#this was in that book i was reading but i found this photo on an auction website. kind of desperately wish i could buy this poster still

[stellarsturniolos]

━━ ⟢‘MEANT TO BE’ ╰  MATTHEW STURNIOLO.

pairing: matt sturniolo x plus-sized!reader

content warning: mentions of insecurity & comparison, brief mention of bullying, reader struggles with body image, cursing.

A/N: reblogs and likes are appreciated! i do NOT give consent for my work to be copied or uploaded to any other platform. thank you. this is my first time posting my writing in years, so please be kind. ily.

falling in love with your childhood best friend, matthew bernard sturniolo, was not something you saw coming. although you probably should’ve seen it coming.

you grew up with matt, nick and chris and you’ve always been incredibly close with all three of them — but matt was always special. the two of you had a very unique bond from the moment you met. being around matt was an instant serotonin boost for you, every time you saw him. 

matt was always your overzealous protector — he was always around to make you feel safe, whether it be from something as small as a bumble bee or from something more severe like the assholes who bullied you in high school.

he never failed to make you feel beautiful. every time you saw him, even if it was just on facetime, he complimented you. any time you felt insecure about your body, he was there to comfort you and let you know that he thought you were perfect as you were. 

you always just assumed he did all of those things because he was a very good best friend. even when he would intertwine his fingers with your own, or hold you in his arms a little too tight when you’d hug him goodbye, and you’d feel the fluttery sensation of butterflies in your stomach, you never thought you were in love with him.

you finally came to terms with your true feelings for matt when he went on a date with a flawless instagram model who slid into his dms because she was a fan of the triplets youtube channel. 

you tried to be happy for him. you really did. but the jealousy nearly ate you alive.

for the entire duration of his date, you tried your best to distract yourself — you tried to read your favorite chapters of your favorite book, and you even turned on your most beloved episode of your favorite tv show, but nothing kept your attention. 

you found yourself looking at every photo the model he was on a date with had ever posted on instagram. and comparing yourself to her. she’s tiny, you’re heavy. she has clear skin, you don’t. she’s beautiful, you’re not. 

the insecurity was tearing you apart, slowly but surely. 

you felt sad because you wanted matt to want you. but he was on a date with a hot model who had millions of followers and a perfect body.

and you?

you didn’t look nearly as pretty as she did. not to mention you were just an average college student. you weren’t famous, you didn’t have an abundance of cash lying around, you didn’t understand what it was like to be an influencer. not the way she did. 

what did you have to offer matt? absolutely nothing. but that didn’t stop you from wanting him. 

you felt tears blur your vision and you quickly blinked them away. you didn’t want to cry. 

when you heard a knock on your apartment door, you were pulled out of the hateful thoughts you were thinking about yourself. it was nearly dark outside and you weren’t expecting company, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. so you opened the door.

you were both surprised and pleased to see matt on the other side of the door.

“oh. hi, matty.” your smile was faint. “not that i’m unhappy to see you, but.. aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?” 

“i was on a date. but i left.” he said, pushing past you and walking into your apartment. he started pacing and let out a deep sigh. “i left because i don’t want to date her. i.. i wanna date someone else.” 

you felt your heart fall into your ass and you almost forget to respond. of course he’s in love with someone. that’s just your luck. “oh, um.. okay. am i allowed to ask who the lucky girl is?” 

he just stared at you for a long moment — his big, wide, beautiful blue eyes almost stared a hole through your soul.

he moved closer to you and laced his fingers with yours, which wasn’t unusual. you two held hands all the time. but your heart still skipped a beat. 

“i need to tell you something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i need to make something clear first. if you don’t feel the way i feel, i’ll understand, okay? you’re always gonna be my best friend. if friendship is all you wanna give me — that’s enough. you’re always enough. but, um.. i just need you to know that i, uh..” he laughed softly, a nervous chuckle, but continued to hold eye contact with you. almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he looked away. “this is harder than i thought. holy shit. i just.. want you to know that.. i’m really fucking in love with you. and that’s why i left my date tonight.” 

your mind shut off. your brain felt fucking paralyzed. your entire body was frozen. your mouth moved, but no words would come out.

you felt his hand shaking as he held onto you for dear life. “can you, um, say something? please?” 

the vulnerability in his tone made your brain flip a switch and fucking start working again. “matty.” you breathed out his name, then in a soft voice, you asked. “do you really mean it?” 

instead of responding, he pulled you even closer and then suddenly his lips were touching yours. matthew sturniolo’s lips were touching yours. it was soft, almost hesitant, but it was the most perfect kiss you’d ever experienced. 

he pulled back, but he stayed close. so, so close. too close but not close enough at the same time. “i’ve never said anything more fucking true in my life. i love you.” 

with teary eyes and a bright smile, you said. “fuck. i love you so goddamn much, matt sturniolo.” 

the way he smiled at you in that moment lit up his entire face. and your heart. 

he reached up with both hands, grabbed your face and pulled you in for another kiss. this one more heated than the last. 

[brookbee]

Born to Boogie poster, 1972

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: IF FOUND, RETURN TO HELL by Em X. Liu.

I enjoyed THE DEATH I GAVE HIM so much that I immediately picked up the author's other book, which is both 1. Very Short (145 pages) and 2. Second Person (which: Hell--ahaha--Yes). I'm hoping this is a good palate cleanser after ORDINARY MONSTERS!

[deadpoetsmusings]

expected this to hurt more than it did but a solid read nevertheless

[theodore-lasso]

So like certified bad day. My grandma died this morning and now I'm sick???? Bro come on

[flintbian]

Well, one year to go

[readingwriter92]

Finished watching John Mulaney’s new stand up on Netflix and it immediately reccomended night agent??? Those two things seem very different. But since I think I was seeing gifs sets of it on whump blogs i just went. Fuck it. And decided to start.

I’m enjoying. Yep.

[zaras22]

you ok paimon? :c

also

[chadsuke]

Books Read in 2023:

Liberated to the Bone: Histories, Bodies, Futures by Susan Raffo (2022)

Unflattering Photos of Fascists:  Authoritarianism in Trump's America by Christopher Ketcham (2020)

Overdressed: The Shockingly High Cost of Cheap Fashion by Elizabeth L. Cline (2012)

A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid (1988)

Why are Faggots so Afraid of Faggots? Flaming Challenges to Masculinity, Objectification, and the Desire to Conform edited by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore (2012)

The F*ck It Diet: Eating Should Be Easy by Caroline Dooner (2019)

The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple by Jeff Guin (2017)

Garbology: Our Dirty Love Affair with Trash by Edward Humes (2012)

The 100-Mile Diet: A Year of Local Eating (2007)

[ID: Covers of the aforementioned books. End ID.]

[b-blushes]

OH YEAH MOST EXCITING NEWS!!! so you know i was talking about The Bees last week, it looks like some might be moving in after all!!! inside the walls of this building there used to be a wild honeybee nest (?) which got relocated by some local beekeepers when the wood (both inside and out) needed to be replaced. The old wood that could be saved was put aside with the aim of reassembling it for bees to return to, but for a few years none have lived here. BUT it looks like they might be moving back in and building a new home there after all!!! (there are at least 2 bees in this picture haha but it's hard to take non-blurry photos on my phone camera without invading their personal space :P)

[sherbovania]

went digging around my basement and found possibly my earliest drawing that i still own, i’d date it around 2008 i think! also sherbovania name reveal if you can read my handwriting from when i was 4

[loverboybrightsideghost]

a very silly reason that i'm amused by what im reading now has nothing to do with the actual novels or authors themselves, however it is funny to me bc i'll be reading and then wonder a bit about the author and then randomly remember that jonny sims stole their last names for his characters. hehe.

[libertyreads]

Book Review #28 of 2024--

Aesop's Fables by Aesop, Marcus Sedgwick (Introduction). Rating: 3 stars.

Read from April 29th to May 3rd.

It's going to be difficult to discuss this collection of fables since technically the collection isn't even Aesop's. Stories were shared orally and passed down through other people so there's really no telling where these 206 fables originally came from. As usual for classics, we have an insane story telling style that drives me up the wall. We know this from when I read the collection of Grimm's Fairy Tales, the original Beauty and the Beast, and Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Those are all things that were published across so many different decades (or even centuries), but what they have in common is that the whole point of the story is to tell a plot heavy story with very little interest in characterizations or even worrying about suspension of disbelief. Whereas stories told nowadays are more focused on the other things than the plot. Obviously every author and story is different, but in general that's the way we expect stories to be told nowadays. Which makes it harder for me to read such old works. That's a me thing so I can't fully get mad at the book for being of its time. I WILL say that some of those fables had some sick burns though. That sarcasm is welcomed in my house any day of the week.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

[all-pacas]

I finished my Rome book and have now begun one about Pompeii. I’m 65 pages in and I already love it: yes, it covers the volcano, but most of the book is about “this is what the town and daily life of it would have been like, actually.” Fascinating stuff. Things I’ve learned so far:

- The streets in Pompeii have sidewalks sometimes a meter higher than the road, with stepping stones to hop across as “crosswalks.” I’d seen some photos before. The book points out that, duh, Pompeii had no underground drainage, was built on a fairly steep incline, and the roads were more or less drainage systems and water channels in the rain.

- Unlike today, where “dining out” is expensive and considered wasteful on a budget, most people in Pompeii straight up didn’t have kitchens. You had to eat out if you were poor; only the wealthy could afford to eat at home.

- Most importantly, and I can’t believe in all the pop culture of Pompeii this had never clicked for me: Pompeii had a population between 6-35,000 people. Perhaps 2,000 died in the volcano. Contemporary sources talk about the bay being full of fleeing ships. Most people got the hell out when the eruption started. The number who died are still a lot, and it’s still gruesome and morbid, but it’s not “an entire town and everyone in it.” This also makes it difficult for archeologists, apparently (and logically): those who remained weren’t acting “normally,” they were sheltering or fleeing a volcano. One famous example is a wealthy woman covered in jewelry found in the bedroom in the glaridator barracks. Scandal! She must have been having an affair and had it immortalized in ash! The book points out that 17 other people and several dogs were also crowded in that one small room: far more likely, they were all trying to shelter together. Another example: Houses are weirdly devoid of furniture, and archeologists find objects in odd places. (Gardening supplies in a formal dining room, for example.) But then you remember that there were several hours of people evacuating, packing their belongings, loading up carts and getting out… maybe the gardening supplies were brought to the dining room to be packed and abandoned, instead of some deeper esoteric meaning. The book argues that this all makes it much harder to get an accurate read on normal life in a Roman town, because while Pompeii is a brilliant snapshot, it’s actually a snapshot of a town undergoing major evacuation and disaster, not an average day.

- Oh, another great one. Outside of a random laundry place in Pompeii, someone painted a mural with two scenes. One of them referenced Virgil’s Aeneid. Underneath that scene, someone graffiti’d a reference to a famous line from that play, except tweaked it to be about laundry. This is really cool, the book points out, because it implies that a) literacy and education was high enough that one could paint a reference and have it recognized, and b) that someone else could recognize it and make a dumb play on words about it and c) the whole thing, again, means that there’s a certain amount of literacy and familiarity with “Roman pop culture” even among fairly normal people at the time.

[lavendertalks311]

Female reader during ovulation week??? Oh I think so.

Warnings: suggestive topics, female reader being feral for her husband, husband Nanami, mentions of ovulation, feeling horny. Not proofread, female reader x Nanami.

———————————————————————————

You looked at the time on your phone, sighing in disappointment when realizing it was still 30 minutes before your lover came home from work.

You get up from the sofa and make your way to the kitchen, trying to find a way to distract yourself or make the time pass by. All that was on your mind was the way his biceps flexed when he lifted you with ease, the way his veins popped out when he held a knife, cutting something as simple as fruit.

The way his thick fingers flipped a page of a book he was reading, the look on his face when he was concentrated, his jawline ever so prominent as he fixated on his baked bread.

Those same fingers that were knuckle deep in you the other night, the same arms that held you down as he hovered over your frame, those same long, blueish greenish veins on his di-

You shouldn’t be thinking this, no, you definitely shouldn’t. You took a piece of bread your lover had made earlier in the day, taking a piece of it into your mouth, savoring the taste. When had you gotten so worked up?

Alas, nothing you did would erase the intruding thoughts that were in your mind, replaying the events that occurred a couple nights ago. You sigh, looking at the time once more and rolling your eyes when seeing it had only been 13 minutes that passed. You go back onto the sofa, looking through your phone to find another way to distract yourself.

Yet, you found yourself going through your camera roll, full of pictures of your lover. It didn’t help that his muscular and large build were evident in almost every photo, making it hard for you to compose yourself.

You squeeze your thighs together, replaying visions of his eyes on you as you squirmed under his touch, his hands on your thighs slowly making their way to your sensitive spots, his lips kissing your neck as you moaned in pleasure.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear your lover come through the front door.

“Darling, are you well?” His deep voice sounded through the silence, pulling you out of your mind and in reality. You look up at him with wide eyes, almost embarrassed he caught you in such state.

“Ken! You’re home!” You said with an unsteady voice, a grin on your face. Your cheeks were painted red from the embarrassment, and the nervous laugh that escaped your lips didn’t help you.

“Hello, love.” He said, slightly raising a brow as he pulled you into his embrace. His scent was so manly, and his large frame in comparison to yours wasn’t helping your case. “Darling, what’s getting you so worked up?” He asked, looking down at his watch.

“I’m okay, hon.” You lied, shifting yourself in his arms with unease, attempting to hide the wet spot in between your legs. “I was just.. thinking.”

He knew something was up, of course he did- he knows you too well- and pulled back from the embrace, still holding onto your frame as he looked into your eyes, examining you.

“Darling, I have a suspicion there’s something going on in that head of yours,” he said, bringing you in for a kiss on your temple. “don’t expect me to think I don’t know this behavior.” He finished, teasing you with a smile.

He pulled out his phone, looking at the date, then softly smiled, knowing full and well exactly why you were acting odd. When he looked back into your eyes, he moved his hands from your shoulders to your waist, slowly bringing you in as he never broke eye contact.

“Honey, if you’re ovulating, why didn’t you bring your thoughts to me sooner?” He brought a hand to your chin, forcing you to look up at him. He slowly moved closer to you as his eyes were on your lips, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know I have no issue addressing your thoughts.” He finished, kissing you instantly.

“K-Kento.” You cried out, almost begging him to continue. That look in his eyes told you all you needed to know, allowing him to completely take over.

“Don’t worry, love. Why don’t I fix us some dinner and I’ll handle the rest after, hmm?” He said, bringing his hand through your hair, moving a piece away from your face and smiled down at you.

Safe to say, you were well taken care of that night after he prepared you both a fancy dinner, in the comfort of your shared bed.

———————————————————————————

Ugh idk I’m lowkey scared to full on write smut but here’s a step towards that. Anyways I hope you enjoyed 🩷