#I can smell the fatphobia

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

People loved Joe Goldberg but not Patty Bladell?????

HOW?

[krakensdottir]

A scene I wanted to address, because I think we need to, because there is some understandable concern over this.

So, Aziraphale's first taste of human food... he goes pretty nuts. He eats it as fast as he can get it down. He can barely stop to breathe. And I can see why that evokes the Greedy Fat Person trope for some.

Given that Gaiman is no fan of fatphobia, I'm pretty sure that's not the intent. But I won't lean on that. I'll go further, and explain what that scene evoked for me, and see if it makes sense to anyone else.

(To preface, I'm a fat person with blood sugar problems who DOES eat like a starving animal and has 0 shame about it. So I'm not just Not Seeing It because of skinny privilege etc. To get that out of the way.)

So first off, of course, it's his first EVER attempt at eating human food. The absolute lack of moderation could be explained by that alone. But I think it's significant that it's specifically meat.

Those who are familiar with the Old Testament know what I mean when I say that God is carnivorous. It's the entire reason he was a bitch to Cain and not to Abel. The Abrahamic god was one of many at the time that accepted burnt animal offerings, before later revisions attempted to wave that away because oops, it sounds too pagan. Flesh of livestock was a common and expected offering, and burning it assured that the smell and smoke and 'essence' would rise to the heavens.

With that in mind, consider what the taste of meat would do to an angel. What it might awaken in them, the first of God's creations?

Maybe it's the monster-lover in me, but I didn't see a fat man gobbling food. I saw an inhuman ancient entity of immense power that only disguises itself as a man, briefly succumbing to a primal and Earthly urge. It wasn't comical to me. It was almost frightening, in a very intentional way. Rarely do we see through the human guise in this series, see just how eldritch these ethereal beings really are, especially Aziraphale. But here he is, ripping almost uncontrollably into the flesh of another life-form with ominous music and thunder overlying the whole scene, and a demon staring at him with intense satisfaction and fascination throughout.

That's what I took from it. If I had to guess, I'd say that's closer to the intent. Again, partly from knowing the author, but also from the way the scene is shot. We're watching an angel partake in literal pleasures of the flesh for the first time, taking formerly living matter into his body. I can totally vibe with Crowley's reaction, tbh.

[wraithdance]

The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Note: F!Reader but no gendered terms in this chapter, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use Content warning: terrible grasp of british-isms, parental angst, sick parent (cancer), some reader backstory for storytelling purposes, talks of pregnancy and readers womb, fatphobia from a parent, food mentions. (lmk if I need to tag something else for filtering!!)

Chapter Three: Don't tell mum

It is an ungodly hour of the morning and you have a sugar hangover and a canopy bed full of empty wrappers.

You’d spent the night crying and cursing stupid posh, blond men with trust funds and selective sperm practices. Which then led you to curse even stupider, infuriating wankers with pretty brown eyes and smooth burnished skin.

(Also the perky twits the two species have tea and procreate with, but you’re trying to do a better job of showing unwavering solidarity with other women. Despite the present fuckery at hand that is.)

A brief glance in the mirror of your vanity reflects the deep dark circles under your eyes and the evidence of your emergency chocolate eclairs on the bodice of your moo-moo. The silk lined linen had been no match for the wild disarray of your hair during the night. You looked quite frightening really. You don’t even need to glance at the framed Olivia Pope photo on your nightstand to know your fictional icon would be utterly disgusted at the state of you.

This would not do.

Sitting up from your pillow you point an accusing finger to the wobbling lipped wretch in the mirror and take a deep steadying breath for fortitude.

"Tits up, buttercup! There's no crying in show business!" you bellow at the watery reflection firmly.

The wretch in the mirror looks no more enthusiastic than before.

Mentally you shrug. Sure the motto is not as an effective motivator as it is with the raspy American accent of your chain smoking paternal aunt, but still. It's the thought that counts! With shoulders back and head high you're determined to expel angst from your body like water off a duck's arse. You force your mouth into a semblance of a smile that doesn't reach your eyes and tumble-scooch out of the nest of blankets in the middle of your bed. 

It was Saturday and you had an overbearing mother to visit (and subsequently lie to). If you didn’t get it together she’d smell the bitter notes of ‘Eau de Failure’ wafting over you like a shark scenting blood in the water. So with that in mind, you prepare for war with a nice candle and the motivating sounds of a beloved global hero. 

“Breakup, shmake-up! Alexa, be a dear and play Chaka Khan, we need this show back on the road. Pronto!”

An incoming text comes in briefly interrupting your improvised rendition of ‘I’m Every Woman’ while you perform (lounge) in the tub. With suds scarily close to your face you squint at the message from your father with one eye.

> Nurses called, mums in a mood.

You scowl. To be frank there’s not a time as of late where your mum wasn’t in a mood. Waving an arm in the air to dispel the bubbles covering your hand, you type out a text back.

< Gobsmacked, truly. Send rating for level of risk in engaging the matriarch, Skipper.

The reply comes in seconds. You can imagine your tech averse father having already expected the request and having a reply at the ready. 

> Threat level five, Captain.

You scrunch your nose and make a whine of irritation. 

Bugger. The scale only went up to six. 

With a sigh you send a simple ‘Roger that’ and sink lower into the bathtub. It was probably best to add more bubbles and break out the epsom salts. You were going to need all the relaxation you could get.

An hour later you’re dressed and slathered in body butter, glistening like a plump glazed ham. 

Outside your flat you’re shifting your bag around to find the knock off sunglasses somewhere traversing at the bottom when the sound of the door across the wall causes you to tense. Kyle stands in his doorway shuffling with a small plastic bag in hand and a sheepish smile. He’s blinking sleep from his eyes and scrunching his face as if the light filtering in the drab hallway disturbs him greatly. 

Your gut clenches seeing the serene yellow glow cascading across his brown skin. (It wasn’t fair that even the sun was a biased ninny and painted the bane of your existence out to be an ethereal creature.)

You give him a look up and down that you hope is less awestruck and all venom. It’s hard not to get distracted by the low hang of his gray sweatpants and the compression shirt that encompasses his broad chest. 

Sweet blueberries, the man dressed like a common whore. 

Sniffing you turn your nose up at him, shoving your sunglasses on your face when you finally reach them.

“Garrick.”

He smiles wider despite your dry tone. “Good morning, love.” 

“Were you just standing there at the door waiting for me?”

Kyle gives you a flat look in return with slightly less chipper-ness. He shifts his arms to rest in a cross, the bag swinging from the crook of his elbow like a metronome. His biceps bulge in a way that makes you want to clutch your pearls. 

(Or bite him. Hard.)

“I wasn’t waiting at the door.” He’s not quite mocking the cadence of your voice but you still wonder if you could get away with braining him with your overstuffed bag.

“I just happened to be nearby and I know you always leave around this time on Saturdays.”

You roll your eyes. 

“So you were waiting at the door then. You know Garrick stalking is illegal in the UK. I would hope you’d know that being military and such.”

Kyle narrows his eyes into slits. His nostrils flare as his once bright smile turns sardonic, gravely affronted.  

“Don’t know if you’re always such a charm in the mornings, love, but like I said, wasn't waiting around.” He clips. You are incensed at the degree of excitement that shoots through you at his rare snark. 

(You make a mental note to have one of the cute nurses at mum’s care center check you over for possible head trauma.)

“Besides,” He gives you a pointed look. “You would know something about illegal acts considering you’re the one who got banned from the resident’s meetings for nicking the snacks.”

The gasp of offense you let out is involuntary. Morning Kyle was not only scandalously dressed but also very rude!

“I did not steal anything, Garrick, they were complimentary for the residents!” You snark haughtily, pushing your sunglasses up your nose with a manicured finger. “I happen to be a resident you know and I gave my compliments when I took them.”

Kyle lets out a bark of laughter. The sleep layered tenor makes your toes curl in your sensible slippers. 

Bugger he was pretty. 

“Is there something you need from me?” you ask when his laugh trickles off into chuckles.

Kyle sobers and shoots you a sheepish glance. “Ah yeah actually. I wanted to give you these.” 

Kyle maneuvers the bag off his arm and extends it to you. With an abundance of caution you accept the offering like one would handle a ticking bomb and peek inside. 

An assortment of moon cakes greets you at the bottom of the plastic. 

You can smell the crisp outer shell and the sweet red bean filling of the pastry signifying their freshness. You do the mental math in your head and realize he’d had to have been up at the crack of dawn to get in line for them at the shops around the way. 

The treats sold out in minutes and you very rarely got the opportunity to get them on your own during the season as you were prone to sleeping in.  

“What’s this for?” 

“It’s an apology.” He gives your bewildered look a self deprecating grimace. “I don’t know what the other night was about but I wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings.”

Okay, no. Can’t have any of that now. 

You straighten up and put your hands on your hips. Kyle’s eyes follow your movements, staring for longer than polite. You clear your throat and he looks away when you give him an eyebrow raise in return. 

“Firstly, Garrick, you didn’t hurt my feelings, don't insult me. I was just taken aback.” pausing in consideration you peer over the rim of your glasses at the man. “What exactly did Madelyn tell you?”

Kyle shifts, one side of his mouth twitching upwards bringing your attention to the facial scar on his cheek.

“Nothing, actually. Just a lot of crying and mumbling about some Hugo. I honestly thought she was talking about a dog before I realized it was some chap she's seeing.”

You hum. Interesting, really.

You’d been sure he’d known more than he’d let on or at the very least that Madelyn would prove to be the unsavory sort to spill the beans on the sister wife shuffle you’d been unwittingly involved in. 

A glance at your watch shows you that you’ve spent too much time dawdling. No need to ruffle mum’s feathers further.

“Well, this has been lovely, Garrick, but I have to cut out. Places to go, people to see and such.” You shake the bag in your hand in emphasis, “Thanks for the goodies. it ‘s very... Sweet of you.” 

“You’re welcome, love.”

You’re glad you thought to wear your shades, the smile he gives you is infused with satisfaction and warmth. (He really should be much more careful where he aims those things he’s liable to blind someone.)

With a twirl of your wrist you give Kyle a halfhearted wave goodbye. He watches you until the lift closes.

What a strange duck.

You find your father at his usual haunt within the oncology unit of the extended care center. 

“Step away from the vending machine, Skipper. I come bearing tastier morsels.”

You smile at his wide eyed panic as he turns to you with shoulders to his ears. He curses low and pulls you into a bear hug, tight enough that a passing nurse shushes you for the squawk you let out. Your father’s miserably dramatic groan vibrates throughout your own chest and he lets out a puff of air.

“You’ve gotta announce yourself kid, I nearly shit myself.”

With a laugh you poke a finger into his rib causing him to jerk away from you. “It’s shat, do try to act like a proper Brit won’t you? Besides what's the fun in announcing myself when I can catch you red handed doing something you shouldn’t. Mum will be pissed you’re wasting money on vending machine biscuits ya’ know.”

Your father gives you a droll look when you snatch his change and shove it in your own pocket. 

(Someone has to pay the child tax after all.)

“Shit or shat, same difference and you would be the one responsible for cleaning me up, brat. And, I’ve been divorced from your mother for nearly a decade so I don’t care what she won’t like. I'm a grown ass man, I’m not afraid of her.”

Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head you swear you can see your medulla. He was so full of it.

“Yeah? So, if I told you not to tell mum something you’re not going to do that thing where you blurt it out the second she looks at you?”

He puts a hand over his heart in reply. “Of course I wouldn’t say anything. I’m a little offended right now, when have I ever run off at the mouth.”

You stomp your feet in irritation. He didn’t get to play clueless!

“Literally all the time. You’re the reason she sent me to that awful boarding school for nicking one of your cigarettes! I’m still scared of nuns you know- stop laughing!”

Your father continues to chuckle and pats your face. When you swat his hand away the look he gives you is unimpressed and flippant.

“In my defense, you were thirteen and had no business smoking in the first place, much less skipping class to do it. I had to put fear into you so you didn’t come out a delinquent.” 

“By telling mum?” You quirk a brow.

“Course, what’s scarier?” He gives you a smug look, linking his arms in yours. You both set a pace down the hall in the direction of your mothers room. 

“Besides, I wouldn’t be a father if I hadn't done whatever it took, you were very rebellious and snotty at the time. But still, it worked out didn’t it? Got a cool nickname out of it. Siggy, the chain smoking lawyer.”

You start to glare at him but the word father makes you wince and he catches it. “What’s the look?”

“So about being a father,” you slow to a stop just outside your mothers door. You give the nurse at reception a tight smile and try to come up with a way to say the thing. 

“Hugo got someone pregnant.” 

It takes the old man some time for it to click. You watch his mind whir putting together the things you didn’t say. Finally he levels you with a smirk much like a cat who drank the cream would wear.

“No shit? Didn’t think he had the cojones for that, you’d kept them in your purse long enough.”

The look you give him is unimpressed, he snickers. How dreadful, you were being parented by a child. 

“Yes well,” you look away “according to him I wasn’t mother material and he dumped me for the other woman.”

Your father hums “Tragic that. Didn’t like him very much so I can’t say I’ll miss him. He send you off with something?”

He motions his head at the plastic bag you fiddled with subconsciously. With a snort you hand it over, watching his eyes light ups when he digs through its contents.

“No, gift from my neighbor.” you wait until he’s taken a moon cake out of its individual wrapping before leveling him a glare. “Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell mum that Hugo and I broke up.”

Your father shrugs off your concern with a wave. “Yup got it. Won’t hear a peep out of me about it.” He takes a big bite that sends pastry flecks over his shirt and you roll your eyes.

Facing the door to the hospital room you roll your shoulders back and prepare yourself mentally.

The sound of a wrapper crinkly disturbs whatever inner peace you search for in the universe.

“Please Siggy, I served with guys in the Navy with less seriousness going into battle.” 

Good grief.

“Eat your sweets please.” You cluck, “I need to meditate before I walk in there.”

Your father ha-rumps in reply but thankfully keeps quiet. When you feel some semblance of self control you shoot a look behind you.

“Remember not a single word!”

Your mother is propped against mounds of pillows. She looks every bit like a queen holding court despite the tubing and wires running along her body. Her sallow skin is grayish in tint, far from the myriad of browns you remember from your youth. 

Yet her scowl remains sharp and dagger-like in nature.

“Oh, how nice of you to show up. I thought this was your way of telling me you want me to die alone.”

Your father shoots you a look as he finishes off the cake. Threat level five indeed.

You smile at her sheepishly which only makes her glare more.

“I got tied up with my neighbor, sorry mum. I’m here now though. What’s been going on?” 

Your mother says nothing instead choosing to follow you with her eyes as you make your way to the armchair beside her bed. When you’re seated she sucks her teeth and looks you up and down before gesturing at your still standing father with her head. 

“Why did you bring this traitorous shadow on my doorstep, eh? I already have a sickness, why must you make me suffer more?”

Your father rolls his eyes before gesturing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Alright… glad we had this talk. I’ll just run to the cafeteria.” Your father turns tail and leaves without waiting for a reply. Your mother gives you a look.

“Wisdom chases your father but unfortunately he is faster.”

“Please, that’s mean, mum.” You ignore her brush off, “He comes to visit with me every weekend even when he doesn’t have to, maybe you should give him a break.” 

Your mother is silent, choosing to disregard your scolding by facing away and watching the drama playing out on the telly. You allow the dismissal, watching along with her and sharing occasional comments on the plot. 

During an advertisement break she folds her hands into her lap and shifts to get a good look at you.

“Are you pregnant yet?”

You jerk back into the cushions of the chair, “No!”

She frowns. “Why not, you are getting old? 

And here we go.

“Mum,” you start carefully, “You say this every time you see me and I have to remind you once more that I’m not old. It’s actually pretty rude, you know, to suggest I need a baby because I’m aging.”

She huffs adjusting the nasal cannula. You look at the IV in her thin hand and the feeling of wrongness makes your body vibrate with anxiety. 

She shouldn’t be here.

You don’t get a chance to think about it anymore when she leans over the railing of her bed to stare deep into your eyes.

“What’s happened to that Humphrey fellow, what is he saying about your empty womb?”

For fucks sake!

“It’s Hugo and he’s got nothing to say about my womb because it’s not his bloody-” you refuse to amend the curse when she swats at you with the hand closest to you, “it’s not his bloody business mother, I’m not a breeding mare!” 

She narrows her eyes, jaw working as she contemplates your tense shoulders. “Where is he?” 

You recoil. For. Fucks. Sake!

You try to look casual while sitting back in the armchair, your unseeing glaze pretending to be interested in the period piece that now plays on the in-unit television.

“He’s around or whatever. Doing fiancé things and all that jazz. Super happy. Great guy, truly the best.”

Your mother lets out a sharp ‘Ha!’ She calls your full name in the tone. The ‘I have birthed you and I will end you’ like filicide is her right as a mother, tone. You sink low into the chair.

“What, mother?”

“You are lying, I can tell. Where is Harold and what happened to your engagement? If you’ve run off another man I will cut you from my will.”

You snort humorlessly.

“Like I said Hugo is fine where he is. Besides you don’t have a will, I know because I oversee your legal paperwork and you refuse to sit down and draft one with me.”

She mumbles something unintelligible about everyone speaking death onto her when your father walks into the room with a cup of coffee.

You see the second your mother sets up a plan of attack and your father does too in the way he freezes in fear like a doe in the path of a wolf. 

“Where is the child’s husband-”

“He broke up with her!" He blurts with wide, dodgy eyes, "Got some girl pregnant and ran off.” 

He returns your disgusted look with a shrug. “Sorry, Siggy got nervous.”

Seriously, the man needed some backbone! He’s not even married to her any more! You’re opening your mouth to lay into him when your mother launches her own attack on you both.

“Do not call my child that awful name, you discombobulated fool!” you mouth the word ‘discombobulated’, the woman was creative with her insults, you’ll give her that.

“And you!” she wags her finger in your direction with a stiff lip, “You should be ashamed of yourself for lying to your own ailing mother. Quickly, how did you manage to run this one off? I am dying to hear it.”

Primly you sit up, adjusting the hem of your shirt around your tummy. Your time in court was much less daunting, to be honest, but you’re a believer in faking it until you make it.

“Mumsy, I didn’t run anyone off, thank you very much. In my defense he was a cheating oaf and he is free to do what he wants, it's no skin off my back.”

She laughs haughtily and it makes you feel awful. 

“He wouldn’t have left if you gave him children!”

The dark desire to mention that giving a man a child hadn’t worked out in her favor when you catch your father’s look. He shakes his head, knowing you well enough to pluck the vicious thought from your mind.

You swallow back the biting retort in defeat.

“Mum please. Hugo said he didn’t want kids right away” you mentally add the ‘children with you’ with a frown, “I believed him when he said it and that’s not something I should be punished for.”  

Your mother sits back in bed, raising her hands in the air in defeat. 

“Everyone else in the family has a grandchild or three!” She cuts her eyes at you, “Why was I the one cursed with a child who buys ugly bags instead of raising babies.”

The pit in your stomach grows as tears prickle your eyes. “My bags aren’t ugly and its very mean of you to suggest that.” you whimper dejectedly.

Your father takes a step and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I think that’s enough, we should be comforting our child not being insulting. You didn’t like the man anyways so what's the issue?” 

Your mother just tuts and closes her eyes like she couldn’t be arsed to have you both in sight a moment longer.

“He was also a fool.” She opens one eye to peek at you, “Your cousin is expecting again by the way.”

So that's what this was about, you snort.

“Yes well, terrible for you to compare me to my underage cousin when she’s barely a teenager with her second child on the way. You know as well as I do the family was in a kerfuffle about it the first time!”

Your father hums in agreement, voicing his support (a little late after having caused this mess, but still.)

“You should be proud to have a kid who has degrees, a great career -an admittedly shit flat,” He ignores your sound of objection “but otherwise really fabulous things going on. Say something nice, please.”

Your mother sniffs “I’m getting older and who knows if this sickness takes me to glory. The child obviously wants me to die without a grandbaby.”

Your sigh is deep and loud in the room. You know for a fact she's bringing up her cancer to twist the knife in deeper. Yet you heard from her yourself that the doctors crowed about the progress of her health.

“Mum please don’t keep saying stuff like that. It really hurts my feelings because you know I love you and I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” 

You watch your mother fight to not soften with your admission. She doesn't look directly at you, glancing more in your general direction. You place a hand over hers on top of the covers, squeezing her fingers tight. The dull shine of her wedding band catches the light of the side table lamp. 

She squeezes your hand back and lifts it out from under yours to pat your fingers. You know it's the only form of apology you’ll get from her. She does ruin it though, moments after.

“Your wrists are like sausage casings, have you gotten bigger?”

Yes well, that was your sign that it was time to go.

“Well lovely as always to see you mum,” you shift to a stand reaching for your bag at your feet and patting your father on the arm. “Think I’m going to pop out and consider my life choices and all.”

She tells you not to be cheeky when you kiss her cheek. She ignores your father’s goodbye  and continues on with watching her shows.

On the walk out front your father stops you from leaving. He lights up a cigarette, the cloying menthol aroma turning your stomach. 

(You never could pick one up again after that traumatizing moment in secondary school.)

Your father is quiet for some time, flicking the ash of his cigarette occasionally in deep thought. You don’t make an effort to break the silence, thinking of your own recollection of another successfully humiliating interaction with your mother. They’d been happening a lot more as of late and it was starting to wear a hole in your heart.

When you shuffle in place your father finally looks at you with a softened glint in his eye. He stumps out his ciggie and places a hand on your shoulder.

“You and your mother are just alike.”

Snorting, you look off to the darkening parking lot, settling your gaze on a flickering street lamp in the distance. You try to ignore the warbling view from behind the tears in your eyes.

“Wouldn’t let her hear that. I’m sure she’d pop her lid at the very suggestion.” You don’t mean to, but bitterness coats your tongue before you can stop yourself, “Poor, fat, pathetic Siggy mucking her perfect plans up as always.”

Your father shoots you a warning glance, not liking your tone or the self deprecation dripping from your mouth. Being under his steel gaze makes you feel childish but you refuse to show it, meeting his look head on.

Because like it or not it was the truth. Whether she said it outright she wasn’t satisfied with your person.

You’d grown up always being on the wrong end of your mothers ire. No matter how hard you tried otherwise. But there wasn’t an excellent mark you could get, a partner you could bring home, or even a diet you could go on. You were always just… lacking.

Your father sighs in the night.

“You’re just as hard headed as her, you know that? Just as quick to cut down an idea that doesn’t fit your vision.”

Catching the defeated slump of your shoulders he calls your name. When you don’t look at him he tucks a finger beneath your chin forcing you to meet his gaze. Love and sadness sit on his weathered skin like a cloak. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Captain. I know being all brass and bull dick helps you at that fancy ass firm of yours but it keeps you from smelling the roses from time to time.”

You wrinkle your nose at the crassness, not sure how to take being compared to bulls testicles. He continues on.

“You also got her flare for dramatics and her ambitious nature. It’s why you two have been butting heads since you could set up and talk.”

Whoa, not the case!

“She butts heads with me!” You cry out, “I don’t know what I could possibly be doing to trigger her but I’m exhausted figuring it out. I just want-“

The lump in your throat stops you and you take a shaky breath. 

“I just want her to be on my side for once? Instead of being worried about me embarrassing her in front of the family.”

He gives you a sad smile.

“She’s just scared. Been on the wrong end of the hyenas before, I think she tries to nag you into submission in hopes she can spare you half the pain.”

That you can’t help but give an unbelieving look to.

“Please she acts like the head hyena most days. It’s hard to believe she’s ever been judged the way she judges me.”

Your father hums humorlessly, wrapping an arm over your shoulder to smush you into his side.

“You’d be surprised. She’d gut me, then stuff me over the mantle for saying it, but I have it on good authority that she’s on thin ice with her side of the family as well.”

You sniffle past the tears on your lashes, blinking to peer at him. “Well don’t leave me in suspense, old man. What’s the story behind that?”

Your father chuffs and flicks the tip of your nose, you whine rubbing the sore spot left behind. 

“I got your old man alright, you little shit.” He laughs boisterously, “They’re pissed she dared marry me, an American. Then by doing me the honor of birthing you, the most loving, headstrong tornado of a child a man can ask for, despite their objections.”

The forehead kiss he plants on you brings more watery fluid to your eyes. You hide the emotion by frowning and pretending to wipe off imaginary residue from your forehead.

“I’m not following.” You snark flatly. It earns you a pinch.

“They’re pissed she went against them then had the nerve to agree to divorce me when it was all said and done. That’s on top of inconveniencing them by getting sick. Your mum’s been on the chopping block far longer than you’ve been and the pressure is getting to her.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and you imagine he’s reliving the hard years that came about after the divorce. The constant yelling and coldness within your childhood home still sends ice down your spine. Your father notices the resulting shiver and rubs your arm to provide warmth into your limbs.

“Despite our differences, I know your mum is just worried you’ll face the same treatment she did when she went and ran off with me, the ‘no good American’ while on vacation.”

You sigh, still not really understanding. It was definitely unfortunate their treatment of your parents' marriage. You’d witnessed it in the slick remarks of your aunties and the other elders over the years. 

Your father had done what he could to shield you from figuring out his ostracism up until he’d asked your mother for a divorce. 

It wasn’t fair to either of them that the family was so caught up in outdated traditions to see your parents had loved each other once. But you couldn’t live like this and you say so.

“You said it yourself, you've been divorced for ages. It’s not fair that she puts so much pressure on me when I don’t give a damn about what they say. I’ve never amounted to anything they want and I refuse to exhaust myself trying to meet her expectations.”

Your father nods in agreement.

“That’s valid, Siggy. Ultimately I just want you to make your own path. I’ll talk to her about laying off, promise.” He cocks his head and squints at you. 

“What?” You give him a worried perusal.

“Are you still mad that I spilled the beans about the fiancé situation?”

You laugh, pinching him around the middle. “I’m still very upset actually. You sold me out so quickly, it’s like you didn’t even try!”

He shrugs shamelessly. “It was me or you. I had to put myself first in the end.”

You roll your eyes and enjoy the swaying hug he keeps you in. After some time he speaks, peering at you.

“Your little friend Blue is right, by the way, that Hugo man does look like a chihuahua.”

“Dad, please.” 

“I’m just saying, Captain, might have gotten lucky after all. wouldn’t want you to go off and birth a litter of pups with a french accent.”

Your resulting cackle echoes loudly into the night.

A/N lol sorry for taking forever for an update and all the parental angst lmao. If you can’t tell I suffer from mommy issues and I was avoiding writing this chapter. Excited, next part the good shit begins :’D

<< Prev | Masterlist | Next >>

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Bully x F! Reader

Forgot to post this to Tumblr, but this was requested by ElinaHiganbana on Wattpad.

Wanna buy me a kofi?: ☕

🎀🎀🎀🎀💖💖💖💖

TW: Noncon, dubcon, eating disorder, vomit, fatphobia, disturbing body descriptions, hair pulling, impregnation, degradation.

Today will be a good day. You won't feel like a piece of shit again. You can get through the day.

That's what you say to get through the day. It usually doesn't prove true, but you somehow manage to stay alive.

"Hey, Shamu! When is your fatass going to skip the gym again?" Kory, the boy responsible for your misery, yells, making his friends laugh.

You've been wearing your old clothes that are extremely baggy to cover up the sad state of your body. It feels weird having so much space between the clothing and your skin. Unfortunately, they don't help cover up the feeling of nausea. You run to the nearest bathroom and throw up stomach bile.

You can make it through the day. There are only eight more hours left.

You get up and walk to your first class, Calculus. By the time it's over, you barely remember what you learned. After moving through the rest of the day like a zombie, throwing up your lunch, you shuffle into the girl's changing room for the gym. You ignore the concerned and scared looks the other girls give you as you take off your shirt and pants. Admittedly, you know your body is a wreck. You can even see the veins that are supposed to be hidden by the skin on your arm. Unfortunately, your ass and chest have a bit more to go, but thankfully your boobs went from Gs to Cs. But it makes you feel good knowing Kory would have to create a new insult when you're nothing but skin and bone.

When you walk out of the changing room and go into the gym, your body bubbles with anticipation for Kory to see your body and think of something to say. You're perfect now. All of that fat has been shed to your liking. The gym is silent, and everyone is staring at you. You imagine spotlights pointing at you, and something deep inside you makes you walk with pride you shouldn't be feeling. Well, that is until you bump into your bully Kory. Your eyes meet his, and you swear you could see amazement flash between his brown eyes.

"Y/N, what happened to you?" Kory asks, his brown eyes looking all over your body.

"I don't know, but I don't feel hungry anymore," You reply, your cracked lips bleeding from just you smiling.

"Get away from me, you disgusting freak," Kory says, shoving you to the ground.

You fall and swear you could hear your heart shatter.

Why didn't he call you something else?

He didn't call you something else because you're so big and disgusting.

You're so disgusting, you attention whore.

Your eyes shift to the white ceiling, and suddenly, your vision gets enveloped in white. If this is what death feels like, it feels so warm and nice, like you're swaddled in the first blanket you ever touched as a baby.

~~~~~~~~~

When you wake up, you're underneath the covers of someone's bed sheets. They smell like men's body spray, B.O., and sex. You wanna throw up, but someone puts a hand over your mouth, stopping you.

"If you throw up on my bed, I swear I'm going to ruin your ass," Kory growls, glaring at you. "How long has it been since you ate a meal?"

You stay silent and look away, not wanting to spill your guts.

"Since you wanna try and play games with me, I'll just punish you until you answer me," Kory says, aggressively pulling your hair and forcing your head to go up. "How long has it been since you ate a meal?"

"Two weeks," You croak, earning a kiss on the neck from Kory.

"Good girl," Kory replies, letting go of your hair and pulling down his sweatpants. "I know it'll take time for you to eat full meals again, so why don't we start slow."

Before you even have a chance to say anything, his hand is grabbing your hair again and shoving his cock into your mouth. You choke on his length as he forces you to take all of it.

"Did you really think I was going to help your pathetic ass without me getting some pleasure from it?" Kory groans, thrusting his hips as you choke on his cock. "Jesus, you useless piece of bones, breathe through your nose."

You do as he says through the tears, hoping he takes mercy on you. He bobs your head more and more until your whimpers are taken over by the sounds of you sucking his cock.

"I'm going to cum in your mouth, and you're going to swallow it. Don't even attempt to make a run for the toilet to throw up, or else I'll fill up all of you with cum," Kory says, riding through his high as he presses your head harder to make sure you don't lift your head until he's done.

Kory cums into your mouth, and you feel it go straight to the back of your throat and to your stomach.

"Haha, great, now there's some calories in your stomach," Kory laughs, pushing you onto your back as he takes off your pants. "Now I get to eat you out."

You try to close your legs, but Kory forces them open.

"Just for that, I'm going to finger you instead," Kory says, getting up and holding one of your legs open.

With his other hand, he puts three fingers in and immediately fingers you with speed. You try not to let out any moans, but the minute Kory sticks his whole entire fist in, you lose it.

"Ah, fuck, Kory, faster!" You moan, making Kory laugh at you.

"Aw, is my Little Bunny not in control of her body? You wanted my attention so bad, didn't you?" Kory mocks, laughing at your hands, unbuttoning your shirt to get to your boobs.

"Yes, yes, yes!" You scream, making Kory laugh at you more. "Please, make me cum!"

Kory laughs and kisses you on the lips.

"Tell me when you're cumming, Bunny," Kory whispers in your ear, licking your neck.

"I'm going to cum, Kory! I'm going to cum right now!" You moan, wrapping your arms around Kory's bare back.

Kory takes his hand out of your pussy and flips you over.

"No!" You whine, missing the high you were feeling.

"Don't worry, Bunny. I told you I was going to help you," Kory says, grabbing your hair while his other hand is on your ass. "You're going to get big and pretty again just for me."

Kory starts thrusting into you while pulling your hair, and you eventually lose yourself.

"Harder! Harder, Kory!" You moan, making him chuckle.

Both of your bodies become sweaty, and the sound of skin slapping together becomes more frequent. Even the bed is shaking like there's an Earthquake happening.

"I'm about to cum, baby!" Kory yells, tightening his grip on your hair.

"AUGH! Me too!" You scream, a knot forming in your stomach.

Kory yanks your hair hard as he cums into your pussy. You cum onto his dick and scream as an orgasm ravages you. Kory lays on top of your chest and leaves a hickey on your neck.

"If you ever think about starving yourself or throwing up any food you eat ever again, I'll shove food down your throat myself. Only I get to degrade you, Bunny," Kory threatens, keeping a tight grip on your arm. "Now, relax, and I'll get you breakfast."

"How did I even get here?" You ask, rubbing Kory's head of straight black hair.

"You passed out, and I took you to my house since I wanted to talk with you privately," Kory answers, leaving a trail of kisses. "Any other questions, Bunny."

"Are you going to make me drop out of college?"

"Temporarily. You're too sick to be going in this state. Don't worry, I'll take care of you, Bunny."

[eddiexmunsonlover]

One Step Away From You (Chapter 4)

ExBestFriend!Eddie Munson x PlusSize!Fem!Reader

Follow my new blog for future chapters & fics @cherryxhaze

Series Masterlist

Series Spotify Playlist

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Chapter Summary: Your off-handed comment to Jason catches up to you. Before things get out of hand, someone swoops in to your defense. A heart-to-heart ensues. WC: 6.4k Warnings: MDNI. Explicit language. Fatphobia/bullying from Jason. Jason almost hits you. Brief references to toxic family relationships and abuse.

Saturday, September 21st, 1985

The ever so alluring smell of bacon and pancakes invades your senses, stirring you from your slumber. You rub your eyes as you look at the clock on the bedside table. 10:35 am. You slept in, though you can’t say you’re surprised. After the day you had, you must’ve really needed it. You roll out of Steve’s spare bed, making sure to re-make it before you venture down the stairs. 

The smell intensifies with each step down the stairs and into the kitchen, spotting the stack of pancakes and bacon waiting to be picked. Steve is pouring a cup of coffee, eyeing you as you grab a plate and start loading it up.

“Morning, sleepy head”

“Morning, haircut” you respond, taking a quick bite of bacon. Groaning softly in pleasure, “You know, Steve. If you don’t figure out what you wanna do for a career, I think you’d make a great little housewife.” You smirk to yourself as you pour syrup onto your plate. Steve scoffs out a laugh.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that. Know any takers?” You laugh with him before you catch a glimpse of Robin sitting on the couch, eating her own plate. 

“Oh, hell yes.” you say excitedly when you see and hear Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? playing on the TV. You quickly scurry over to join Robin on the couch with your own plate. Steve joins soon after, all leisurely eating your brunch and watching Saturday morning cartoons. After you’ve all finished your plates and are relaxing before eventually having to get ready for your work shifts, Steve speaks up.

“So, we gonna talk about what happened yesterday?”

You look between him and Robin, confused. You quirk an eyebrow up at him.

“Uh, what happened yesterday? What do you mean?”

“I mean, something happened yesterday, didn’t it? You seemed a bit…off.”

Goddamnit. If Dustin hadn't learned it from you, you're now sure he learned his ability to read people so well from Mr. Steven Harrington too.

“Did you talk to Eddie?” Robin asks softly.

You sigh, crossing your arms over your stomach.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell us anything. But if you want to, you know we’re here. I’m also just really nosey.” Steve adds, causing a smirk to tug at your lips before you take a deep breath.

“Yeah. I talked to him. Ran into him after lunch, literally. And uh, let’s just say it did not go well. He kinda flipped out on me. But, I kinda deserved it. Aaand, I kinda slapped him. But, he kinda deserved it.” You let yourself laugh a little, taking in their surprised faces.

“So yeah, based on that I don’t think we’ll be friends again anytime soon. At least I can say I tried.” You finish with a shrug.

Robin reaches out and rubs your arm soothingly as Steve looks at you with sympathy and in thought. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N” he sighs, “Maybe just give things some time to cool down, I’m sure he’ll come back around.” He gives you a soft, crooked smile.

“Yeah, maybe. And if not, I’m sure I’ll be okay.” you say, more to yourself than to them.

You pull into your driveway an hour later. You sit there, finishing your cigarette as your eyes linger on the now familiar van across the street through your rear-view mirror. You look longer than you’d like, finally tearing your eyes away to throw out your cig. Cutting off the sounds of Black Sabbath as you turn off the ignition. 

You slowly shuffle your way to the mailbox at the end of your driveway. Flipping through the spam and advertisements when you hear a familiar sound, a skateboard. Your eyes follow the sound, a figure shaded by the sun. You know who it is. If it wasn’t for the skateboard, it’s the flaming aura around her head under the sunlight. A big smile stretches across your face, leaning against your mailbox as she rides closer into view. When she’s close enough to see your face, her eyes widen and she nearly stumbles off her skateboard, eliciting a giggle from you. She stares at you for a second as she comes to a stop, sliding her headphones down to her neck.

“Hey, you.” you say cheerfully.

In a second, she’s running to you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. You feel the shakiness as she inhales a deep breath.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, the ever elusive Red.” You smile as you return the hug, briefly rubbing her back before she pulls back to look at you.

“W-How?” She looks toward your trailer, “You moved back?!”

“Yep, just this past week. I tried keeping an eye out for you at school, then Dustin told me you moved here. Knew I’d catch you eventually.”

Her smile falters ever so slightly at the mention of Dustin.

“Oh, yeah. I mean, it’s a piece of shit but it’s a roof over our heads I guess.” You nod in agreement, pondering how to approach her. If she’s been avoiding the party, you worry one wrong move will send her running away from you too. You decide to go the easy route, knowing you might not get a truthful answer right away.

“You and mom doing okay?” 

“Yeah. She’s either working or drinking most of the time, so” she shrugs nonchalantly, a move you see right through. “But I can take care of myself just fine anyway”.

“Well, if you ever get bored entertaining yourself, just come and give a knock, okay? I gotta get going for work here soon, but maybe we can go out to the drive-in or something soon?”

A small smile tugs at her lips as she nods lightly.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Oh, and you know. If you ever need a ride, I’m already giving the knuckleheads rides home after school and since we’re neighbors, I can just stick them all in the bed and give you passenger seat privileges.” You ramble before noticing the way she begins to awkwardly sway at the suggestion. “Or ya know, I can just kick them to the curb and save myself some gas with just you.” You quickly offer. She forces a small laugh before shaking her head.

“No, that’s okay. It gives me more time to skate anyway.” 

Great, I’ve already messed this up. Just add it to the list…

“Alright, well the offer’s on the table anytime. For anything.” You insist, giving her an out to the conversation as you begin to move back toward your driveway. She only nods in response, before putting her skateboard in place to ride again.

“See you later, Red.” You wave before heading into your trailer to get ready for work.

During the slower phases of the work day, your mind drifts to worries of Max. How she’s really doing, how you should approach her, how to get her to open up to you. It’s a welcomed distraction considering the other places, or people, your mind would be wandering to otherwise. You and Max had gotten fairly close over the summer, you gave her opportunities with and outside of the party to get away from home, from her asshole step-brother. Being the only other girl and older, she often confided in you. Whether it was about her brother, her relationship with Lucas, or the struggles of girlhood, you were there for her. 

Since Billy’s sacrifice to save her from the mall fire and his resulting death, she’s closed off. Isolating from everyone close to her. That happened to be something you’re familiar with. Something that helps you to understand her, something you can use. You know you need to take it slow though. Based on her initial reaction to seeing you, you know she's missed you, and know that connection is still there. There’s just some walls you need to chisel down first.

Take it slow.

That connection is still there.

Just some walls you need to chisel down first…

Those dark curls… chocolate button eyes… cutest fucking dimples you’ve ever seen in your life.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, frustrated with your brain and your heart. Both deeply longing for him… before the shock of pain with the memory of his words hits you.

Just let it go. Move on. He’s not your Eddie anymore.

~

It was bothering Eddie more than he’d ever admit, even to himself. You. Thoughts of you swimming around his head with every emotion he could think of, was bothering him.

After your argument, he felt a bit of relief. To finally say the words he’d been carrying with him these last few years to you. To finally release the anger and pain out onto you. It felt like a weight off his shoulders in the moment. What he hadn’t been expecting was for you to match it, taking the pain and anger you felt in response, right back out and onto him. 

This whole past week you’ve been back has thrown him off. More distracted than usual. More reactive. More irritable. The other boys in Hellfire noticed, taking extra effort to not poke the bull. 

Your argument and slap left him even more distracted and off-balance. You’d thrown him off his game for Hellfire for christ’s sake. Forgetting details for the campaign that he’d otherwise would’ve had memorized, left him referencing his notes. He didn’t exude his usual dungeon master playfulness, animated voice and facial expressions coming out muted. Everyone noticed. Eddie’s own off-balanced performance reflected in his players. Nothing had ever distracted him so much to the point of interfering with Hellfire campaigns. The way Henderson eyed him suspiciously throughout the night almost set him off completely, again. He’d ended the campaign a little early, offering a brief apology and a quick lie to write off his abnormal performance on. He’d spent the rest of the night getting as drunk and high as he could in his bedroom until he passed out. 

Saturday isn’t going much differently for him. Sitting in his bed with a joint in his mouth as his fingers mindlessly strum his guitar, thinking of you. The anger he felt yesterday is now replaced with guilt. A guilt that sits and churns in his stomach, teetering on the edge of nausea. Maybe that was just the hangover, or maybe it’s from the way he can’t get the image of your tear-streaked face out of his head. Tears caused by him.

You deserved to hear how much you hurt him. Be faced with the consequences of your actions. You deserved that. But as he remembers the look in your eyes yesterday, the way you flinched, the way he caused a side of you you rarely show to come out… he knows you didn’t deserve that. He scolds himself for letting his emotions get the best of him, letting them get out of his control. You hurt him, that didn’t make it right for him to hurt you back. It didn’t even make him feel good. Maybe very briefly in the moment, just to release what he’d been holding in for so long, but it left as quickly as it came. 

He sighs as he moves the guitar off his lap, putting out his joint in the ashtray before rubbing his hands over his face, staring up at the ceiling.

He can’t hold on to this anger anymore, he knows it’s not healthy and is only hurting him more. But he can’t blame himself too much for wanting to, it’s one of the ways he’s protected himself in the past. Protected him from getting hurt. You knew that about him. The way he held onto anger at his dad, people in Hawkins, not wanting to waver and give either the chance to hurt him more. You knew almost everything about him, more about him than he’d ever willingly shared with anyone. That’s why what you did hurt him so deeply, and why he wanted to hurt you just as much. And feels like utter shit for it. 

Hey, you!

His eyes dart to his window as his brain immediately recognizes your voice. He peeks out to see you interacting with a younger girl he’d seen skateboarding around in the neighborhood and at school. His heart begins to ache watching you, watching you embrace the girl, watching the way you smile at her and ramble.

God, does he miss it. Misses the way you’d ramble and rant about something you’re passionate about, the way you’d cackle and smile when he’d do the stupidest thing he could think of just so he could see it. Misses the way your warm, plump body feels against him when you’d hug or lean your head on his shoulder. 

He sighs watching you wave goodbye to the girl and walk inside your trailer. 

Maybe he could give you another chance. Now that he’s not so overcome with anger, maybe he’d be able to hear you out. Not overpower you so much with his anger that you can actually have a real chance to explain yourself. 

Maybe.

Tuesday, September 24th, 1985

Some things have changed since your fight with Eddie on Friday. Flipped, really. Your eyes no longer sought him out. You do your best to avoid looking at him whether it was in the halls or in your shared classes. Knowing the sight of him would only bring back that sting in your chest.

Eddie on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away from you whenever you’re in his sight. Watching you in regret, longing, confusion, hurt, all twisted into one. Eddie’s confident in himself most of the time, except for in a few areas. This situation with you and how to handle it moving forward is one of the latter. It’s a big fucking mess he isn’t sure how to fix. He knows with the way things went on Friday after you made the first move to talk to him, that it had to be him this time to try to make things right. 

You take your time walking down the quiet halls before the end of the lunch period, hearing the distant, muffled chatter from the lunchroom. You open your locker, putting away your books from your morning classes, switching them out with your afternoon ones. Just as you finish putting the last book in your bag, your locker slams shut in front of you, causing your head to whip toward the culprit you didn’t notice come up next to you till now.

“You’ve got a smart mouth on you, don’t you piggy?” Jason seethes out, hand pressed against your now closed locker door. Your smirk at him as you lean against it.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yeah, well I don’t know who the hell you think you are or who you think you're talking to bu-”

“You know, I remember you from years ago. The last time I lived here.” You interrupt before looking him up and down, “Jason Carver. Back then you were just a scrawny guy, trailing behind the older jocks, carrying that ever so fragile ego in tow with theirs.” You look back up to meet his eyes, brows furrowed above them. “I see you’ve grown a few inches, even bulked up a bit. Looks like that’s about all that’s changed, though.” You watch as he processes your words, your insult.

“You fat fucking bitch” He says through gritted teeth, face turning red.

“Oh come on, Carver. Don’t you have anything fresher than that?” you say flatly, cocking an eyebrow at him. You watch as his body tenses up.

“Looks like I need to teach you and that smart mouth a lesson” He says, taking a step closer to you. You don’t move an inch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of you.

“Oh no. What are you gonna do?!” You say sarcastically. “You don’t scare me, Carver.”

You watch as a vein protrudes from his forehead, face turning a deeper red. 

It all happens so quickly. One of his arms pulls back, raising in the air in the motion to slap you, but it doesn’t come. Curly dark hair appears behind him, before Jason’s thrown flat on his ass in front of you.

Eddie had been outside smoking before lunch ended. On his way back into the school, he spots you and Jason. He slows his steps, listening in on the quickly escalating conversation. You’re teetering on the edge and you don’t care. As fragile as Jason’s ego is, so is his masculinity. Eddie wasn’t sure if Jason's above hitting a girl, but he knows that’s where this could go. He creeps closer, eyeing the way Jason’s hand begins to twitch. Waiting for the string to snap, and it does. When he spots Jason’s hand raise, Eddie swoops in. With a foot behind Jason’s, Eddie wraps his arm around Jason’s front, pulling him till he’s falling back on the floor. 

Eddie was no stranger to fights, the jocks of Hawkins having taken their frustrations out of him plenty of times. He didn’t like putting himself in the line of fire, but he has and would do it in a heartbeat for the people he cares about. Despite how he’s acted, you’re one of those people.

Your eyes widen, at the fact Jason was about to hit you in the middle of the school, and at seeing Eddie before you, swooping in out of nowhere to defend you. Your eyes lock with his and everything slows down, so many emotions and words unsaid flowing between you with just a look. For a moment your mind flashes back to 5th grade Eddie, reaching his hand out to help you off the ground, worry and sympathy filling his eyes. History repeating itself. You take a deep breath as the memory hits you, staring into Eddie’s brown eyes. In that moment, it’s only you two. No one else. No white brick halls. Just you and Eddie, conveying so much to each other through just your eyes.

Jason’s groans pull you from your trance, your eyes leaving Eddie’s to look down at him. You drop down to one knee, getting into Jason’s face. Eyes popping open wide when he senses you so close. You look at him with fire in your eyes as you point a finger in his face.

“Let me tell you something, you piece of shit. I didn’t come back here to deal with your little brat boy bullshit. If I see you try to put your hands on any of my friends, let alone me, again… I will make you regret it. And don’t think that I won’t.” You hiss, voice full of steel. Staring at him with as much intensity as he held earlier. You relish in the brief moment of fear that flashes through his eyes before his face hardens in frustration and embarrassment, chest heaving with deep, short breaths.

A silence falls before the bell rings to end the lunch period, breaking you all out of the moment. Jason quickly pulls himself to his feet before students flood the halls, not wanting anyone to see him in his embarrassing position. You rise with him. He fixes his letterman jacket, staring daggers between you and Eddie.

“Fucking freaks” he huffs before turning around, stomping down the hall quickly as it fills with students.

Both you and Eddie relax, releasing a breath before you’re just standing there awkwardly next to each other. You resecure your bag on your shoulder before chancing a look at Eddie, who's already staring at you. Reading you, assessing you, trying to tell if you’re okay.

You clear your throat before nodding your head at him.

“Thank you” you mutter softly. When he doesn’t immediately say anything back, your body takes the lead, quickly walking away toward your next class. 

Eddie considers chasing after you, but he doesn’t know what the hell he’d say if he did. He just watches you walk away before he takes slow steps to follow you to your shared class together.

In the two classes you have together, you can feel his eyes on you. You catch him a few times, eyes locking with his before one of you quickly looks away. 

You feel like you have whiplash. From the switch up of the Eddie you faced on Friday that hated your guts, to the Eddie who didn’t waste a second coming to defend you, with only a few days passing in between. You can’t wrap your head around it. You know he cares, he wouldn’t have been so angry before if he didn’t, but you assumed he was done with you, hated you. But someone that hates you wouldn’t rush into potential harms way to defend you, right?

A few more stolen glances and the muffled voices of your teachers’ as you’re lost in thought fills the remainder of your school day. When you leave your final class, stopping at your locker before walking out the front doors, you wonder if he’ll come up behind you, apologize for his behavior on Friday and give you another chance. But it doesn’t happen, making the walk to your truck uninterrupted. You want to chastise yourself for holding that hope, but what happened today can’t mean nothing. It just can’t. You don’t want it to.

You spend the remainder of your afternoon trying to do your homework. It takes everything in you to focus, almost giving up when the calculus problems push you right to the edge in frustration. You let out a huff in relief as you finish the problems and slam your notebook shut, throwing your head back as you slouch in your chair. Rubbing your hands over your face before you hear your mom unlocking the front door. When you note the time and sun setting through your window, you get up and make your way to the kitchen to start making dinner. You browse through the cupboard before your eyes land on a package of pasta. Spaghetti it is. 

As you wait for the meat to brown, your mind replays the events of the day. Landing back into the loop your thoughts had been stuck in all afternoon about Eddie. Trying to make sense of it all, of him. The moment your eyes locked this afternoon made your heart ache, and still does when you think of it now.

You aren’t sure when exactly you first fell in love with Eddie Munson.

The first day you met when he came to your rescue from bullies? That time in the woods when you were 10 when he insisted you be the trapped princess his mission was to rescue? The countless Friday nights you spent staying up late to watch The Midnight Special, eventually falling asleep on each other's shoulders? The first time he shared his mom’s records with you? The first time he really opened up to you about the loss of his mom, and the strenuous relationship with his Dad? That night your parents fighting got so bad you snuck out of your window and went to his trailer in tears, consoling you and doing anything he could to cheer you up? That time he almost went to fight your mom when he saw the red mark on your cheek? Or maybe it was the time he told you you’re beautiful the way you are, when your mom and everyone’s criticisms of your body weighed too heavily on your mind? 

You can’t pinpoint which event triggered the change from seeing Eddie as your friend, to your crush. What event marked the transition to being in love with your best friend, seeing and imagining him in ways beyond a regular friend would. You aren’t sure when, but you know you’ve been in love with him for as long as you can remember. An unrequited love that made your heart ache with every pet name bestowed upon you, with every flash of that devilish smile and irresistible dimples, with every use of his deep, animated voice for dramatic storytelling. An ache you’d decided for years you could stifle to keep his friendship. An ache that turned into a sharp pain hearing his voice over the phone, hundreds of miles away. A pain you’d decided you couldn’t bear anymore. Maybe if you hadn’t been in love with him, things would’ve been different. You wouldn’t have pulled away. 

So foolish. Desperately longing for things you couldn’t have. Longing so desperately you pushed away the best person in your life, the very person you longed for. A decision that didn’t take long for you to regret, but in your mind was too late to fix. Now, after today, you aren’t so confident about that.

You sit on the couch with your mom, eating Spaghetti and watching Magnum P.I. reruns as your thoughts continue. Mindless small talk about your days, vision zoning out as you stare at the tv, petting Henny who sits in your lap, and a heightened awareness of Eddie’s presence only 100 feet away. An hour later when your mom announces she’s going to bed, you ponder how to spend the rest of your night. You know you won’t be able to fall asleep yourself anytime soon, anticipating one of those nights you won’t be able to shut your mind off. 

You wander to your room, shutting your door as you reach into one of your dresser drawers for your little stash box. Sighing in frustration when you notice you only have enough left for one more smoke.

You roll a quick blunt before throwing on a flannel and slipping out the front door. You take a deep inhale of the fresh air, relishing in the cool breeze of the late September night as you begin the short walk to the little neighborhood park at the end of your street. You don’t notice the figure on the porch across the street smoking a cigarette in the dark as you walk, taking in the sound of the breeze blowing through the leaves on the trees, the quietness of the park beyond the very faint sound of some network sitcom playing on a tv.

You sit on a swing and begin to move back and forth slowly as memories flood back. This playground hasn’t changed a bit since you first moved to Forest Hills Trailer Park 9 years ago. Paint faded and chipping, old mulch littered around the playground, and rusted metal chains on the swing that creaks with each movement. Eddie and you spent countless afternoons here in the early years of your friendship. Swinging together, laughing as you’d watch Eddie do the monkey bars, spinning each other on the merry-go-round till you thought you’d get sick.

You put the blunt to your lips and light it, taking a deep inhale as you look around the abandoned playground, hoping the weed would help to calm your mind enough to get some sleep. You rest your head against the metal swing chain, feet softly kicking at the mulch and dirt beneath you. You don’t hear the soft footsteps on pavement approaching you till they’re only a couple feet away, head shooting up at the intrusion when the sound meets your ears. Eddie clears his throat, hands in his vest pockets as he stands at the edge of the playground. Your movements still at the sight of him, streetlights illuminating his figure and messy curls. When your body stiffens and you remain silent, Eddie takes a few steps closer.

“I-uh, I come in peace, promise.” He says softly, raising his hands in surrender. “Mind if I join you?” he asks, head gesturing to the empty swing next to you. You only nod in response before casting your eyes down. You take another hit as he sits down next to you, praying the calming effects you sought would kick in quicker.

You’re both silent for a while, the light wind blowing through the trees, neighborhood noises, and soft creaks from the swing set the only sounds filling the space between you. Eddie’s knee bobs anxiously before he clears his throat.

“I um, just wanted to apologize for Friday. The way I acted, some of the things I said… I let my emotions get the best of me. I didn’t really give you much room to talk, and I’m sorry for that.” Eddie says nervously, eyes turning to look at you as he finishes. You nod in response again, not looking his way.

“I understand. I don’t blame you.” Silence falls between you again before you look towards him. “Thank you again, for earlier today. You didn’t need to step in like that.” Eddie chuckles softly.

“Oh, I know you could’ve handled him just fine on your own, but you shouldn’t have had to... It’s no problem, really. Not my first run in with him anyway.” You wonder just how many times Eddie’s had to deal with Carver and the other jocks, just how bad those run-ins have possibly gotten. In a sign signaling truce, you hand your blunt to him, offering a hit. He gladly accepts with a soft smile before taking a hit.

“Since when do you smoke the devil’s lettuce?”

You giggle softly, letting a smile spread to your cheeks.

“About a year now, same with these” You say, pulling the pack of cigarettes from your pocket enough for him to see. Eddie tsk’s in response, passing the blunt back to you.

“Naughty naughty.” He teases in a deep voice, eyeing you while blowing out smoke. You tear your eyes away and back to the mulch beneath your feet, the sight enough to send a shiver up your spine. 

After a few more passes between you, the blunt is gone and you’re left to face the inevitable conversation. You rub your sweaty palms against your thighs as you work up the courage.

“I just wanted to say again, I’m sorry for how things went. For dropping contact. It’s entirely my fault and… I’m really sorry for doing that to you, Eddie. You didn’t deserve that.” Your eyes peek at him. He’s faced forward, nodding softly in response as he lights a cigarette. He moves his hips slightly, enough to turn his body more toward yours. 

“So why did you do it?” he asks quietly, dark eyes looking up from his cigarette to meet yours. A somber look on his face, a stark contrast from a few days ago. You take a shaky deep breath while turning your head to look up at the stars littering the sky.

You can’t tell him the truth. You can’t tell him you stopped returning his calls because you were so in love with him that the distance, the sound of his voice over the phone caused your heart to ache so deeply that you couldn’t take it anymore, that you’d recluse to your room and cry after each call.

“We were so close and it hurt so much to be torn apart. Every time I heard your voice on the phone… it just” you take another deep breath, “it was just a reminder that I wouldn’t see you again and that just hurt too much to deal with. I didn’t want to deal with it. So… I secluded. I avoided you. I know it might not make sense, that it might not be a good enough answer for you, but it’s the only one I have.” 

You didn’t exactly lie. It’s not the full truth but you were still as honest as you could let yourself be. He’s quiet for a minute as he takes in your words before letting out a deep sigh. 

“I guess I get that,” He does, he felt the pain too. The way his heart ached in longing every time he heard your voice, every time he’s thought about you since. It wasn’t enough for him to stop calling, but he still understands you shared the same pain during every call. “But you could’ve seen me again, you’ve been visiting in the summers this whole time.” he protests softly.

“Eddie, when I stopped calling I didn’t know I was going to come back to visit.” You shake your head lightly before turning your body towards him, mirroring his. “I mean, I figured I’d come back and see my Dad eventually, but uh if you remember, he wasn’t exactly in the best mental state when we left and was also locked up so, I didn’t really know anything about what would happen.” You look away from him and towards your lap, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your flannel. “It’s not that I don’t regret it, I do. But by the time I changed my mind and found out about coming back in the summer I was just… like, paralyzed. It had only been two months after I stopped calling, but I was afraid. Afraid it was too much time that’d passed, afraid you’d moved on and replaced me, afraid you wouldn’t forgive me… so I didn’t do anything. Just let it be. The whole time I just told myself you probably didn’t care much anyway.” Eddie blinks at you, wide-eyed as you finish before scoffing lightly.

“You really think I would’ve ‘replaced’ you that easily? That quickly? You were my best friend too, Y/N. The closest I’ve ever had, even closer than Ronnie, you know that. How could you think I wouldn’t care?”

“Come on, Eddie. You’re telling me your brain never fucks with you like that?” You ask, fingers picking a cigarette out of your pack and lighting it quickly. After an inhale you continue, “I mean logically, I know that you felt the same about our friendship. Plenty of memories and moments to prove it. But I just kept thinking back to when I first told you I was leaving. Sure, you seemed disappointed but you weren’t as upset as I was, you didn’t cry. And despite knowing I've only seen you cry like, twice before in all those years, my brain still just clung onto that. Like ‘See! He doesn’t really care, not as much as you.’” You shake your head in disappointment and frustration with yourself as you take another hit. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No,” Eddie answers quickly, squashing his own cigarette in the mulch with his Reebok sneakers. He looks at you, a sympathetic look etched across his features. “I know what that’s like.” You’re both quiet at first, letting the new information and understanding fall into place. You rock yourself back and forth on the swing slowly, gathering your words before you speak them.

“Look, I don’t expect you to forgive me and I don’t know what I could do to make it up to you but, I just need to say again that I’m sorry. I would take it all back if I could. I’ve really missed you.” You finish, eyes meeting his. You hope they’re portraying your sincerity as his own search your face. He looks away from you as a small smile tugs at one side of his lips, feet kicking at the mulch below.

“Yeah well… I missed you too.” He breathes out, eyes meeting yours again. A small smile tugs at your own lips. After a few moments of silence, he finishes. “I forgive you.”

He leans towards you, pinky finger extended. You choke out a laugh at the sight, relief washing over you. You wrap your pinky around his, closing your eyes to stop them from watering as your smile deepens.

When your fingers detach, you sigh deeply and open your eyes to meet his again.

“Thank you” you say quietly, warmth spreading through your body. It feels like a massive weight has been taken off your shoulders. The optimism and hope you haven’t felt since last Sunday, before your first day back at Hawkins, creeps its way back into your mind and body. You note how much lighter your chest feels as it moves with each breath, and the knot you’ve felt in your stomach for a week begins to loosen.

You stay there for a while, lightly swinging back and forth as you and Eddie dive into discussions about new bands, albums, and movies that have come out since you moved. Concerts you’ve been to since. Eddie smiles seeing that you haven’t changed one bit since you’d left, even mentioning bands and movies he hadn’t even heard of, promising to share your tapes with him at some point. He finds himself getting lost watching you as you excitedly describe the Journey concert you went to with your cousins in 83’. Smiling when he notices the sparkle in your eyes as you rave about Steve Perry’s voice and how they played your favorite songs. Laughing as you pout in jealousy when he describes the Metallica concert he went to with Gareth earlier this year. It all feels so familiar, so comfortable.

You’re so lost in conversation you don’t notice how much time passes by until Eddie checks his watch and whistles. It’s almost 11:30pm, nearly 2 hours since you first walked down to the playground. The hesitancy you held about your ability to get a goodnight’s rest tonight was gone. You feel like you’re floating as you and Eddie walk the short distance back to your trailers, Eddie telling you about Hellfire’s current campaign. 

“You know, you’re more than welcome to join us sometime. You already know half the club.” He offers as you reach the end of your driveway. 

“I’ll definitely think about it, thanks.” You give him a small smile.

“Cool. Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He returns your smile as he rocks back and forth on his heels lightly, hands shoved into his vest pockets. 

“Oh, wait! Kind of an odd question but before I forget, do you know anyone around here that sells?” You ask as the thought of your now empty stash box pops into your head. Eddie smoked with you, you figure he knew where to get some around here.

And boy, did he. 

A bright, cheeky smile stretches across his face.

“Oh yeah, I know a guy.” He says with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before he bows dramatically, “Your friendly neighborhood drug dealer at your service, my dear.”

[genderqueerdykes]

hi, i hope its okay to ask you for advice/information, if not then im sorry, please ignore me

so, im 10 month on t, and my endocrinologist said something about how i shouldnt gain weight because it can lessen the levels of testosterone, and i really want to become somewhat fatter. she advised me to not do that, and i don't really know how this works and whether she is fatphobic or she is right?

sorry if i worded anything weirdly, english isnt my native language and i really only get to use it online

hello there, thanks for stopping by!

first of all i wanted to say it's great that you want to put on some weight- testosterone causes weight gain for many. that's just something that's going to happen for many people who take T. weight has no bearing on the efficacy of testosterone? i've neve heard of that, what the hell is your endo on about

for reference: i've fluctuated between 260 - 360 at points throughout my adult life. i'm muscular after getting on T- very muscular. i do a lot when i'm able to. if being fat lowers testosterone levels that means almost every T user would almost instantly have their testosterone levels drop once they start gaining weight ... ?

that smells like fatphobia to me. that doesn't sit right. has anyone else heard this before? i'm sorry you got told that, that makes no sense to me. also it's not a bad thing for you to want to put on weight. this person is very biased

[petewentzisblack1312]

sorry with the fatphobia patrick stump has experienced through out his career pre and post hiatus PUBLICLY to the point where the essay he wrote that was taken as a suicide note after losing weight was called WE LIKED YOU BETTER FAT named after things people yelled at him during his solo career the way that man has been criticized and fetishized and woobified for his weight you cannot under any circumstances be taken seriously if you think hes not fat, at least socially. like at that point you are covering your ass in the most embarassing and delusional way. i understand you want to have the high ground because your band is better and more serious and their farts smell like roses and their piss tastes like honey but can you be objective for once in your goddamn lives. jesus fucking christ.

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER TEN: RABBIT

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse, self harm, fatphobia, body dysmorphia

This is chronologically the tenth chapter in the series.

Read beneath the cut...

Napalm is the slow fire of waking from a terrible dream, blind, gasping, burnt. The pain, though delusive, is made actual by the action of nerves.

Only a hand at your shoulder, vigorous in its attentions, hauls you up from the putrescence of slumber into the light-dark of four in the morning. You find Hannibal's shape through lashes gummed with sleep's adhesive.

His face is as impassive as a star, but his hair, ever coiffed, is displaced from the friction of his pillow.

“You were screaming,” he says, as you sit, stunned, in his arms. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”

“No,” you say, although the scenes remain briefly in your vision, doubling like silk screen prints upon the walls.

Hannibal fills up a glass with fresh water and bids you to drink, his eyes pensive, unconvinced.

Only the notion that he may suggest you share his bed or else intrude upon yours impels you to honesty.

“I dreamt that I was trapped in one of the Silicone Lover’s dolls. That he was trying to squeeze me inside, and I wouldn’t fit. He said, ‘You’ve gotten so big since I last saw you. I’d better do something about that.’

“Then he started cutting me up with kitchen scissors, and I couldn’t stop him.”

You pause, choking on a breath, a verbal stagger.

Dr Lecter offers you the water again, which you take in both hands and drain to its end.

“Take your time,” says Hannibal. “When you’re ready, go on.”

Lying will fail you before the all-seeing eye, so it is with a flat honesty that you say, “It wasn’t what the Lover did in my dream that scared me. It was what he said to me. Because he was right.”

You reach down to pull the quilt up across your stomach, which Hannibal, with a subtle gesture, prevents.

“To agree with such a statement there must be some basis of comparison for you,” he says. “You knew the person standing in as the Lover in your dream. Can you name him?”

Hannibal could guess it, from the little you’ve told him of your unclean past, but if memory conjures the name from the gully of silence he does not say so.

Instead, he comments, “I think it’s unwise for you to sleep again until your mind is settled. Perhaps we may take advantage of the hour to continue your therapy, in an informal fashion.”

He sits in a chair by your bed, producing a notepad and pen from a pocket of his dressing gown.

You see that he will not move.

"What if I don’t talk?” you ask, softly. “What if I say I'd rather take the punishment?"

Hannibal's slender lips upturn.

"I wouldn't be inclined to take such a claim seriously.”

In sullen defeat you flounce back against the pillows.

Dr Lecter takes his cue.

“I’m curious about the friendships you’ve formed throughout your life. Have there been any notable examples?”

“Not many,” you answer, looking at the raw edges of your fingernails. “I was kind of the weird kid. It was like looking through a dusty museum window at everybody passing by, not really knowing how to get out there and talk to people. Like I was too old and too young at the same time.

“I got bullied, kind of. Nothing worth talking about. Just dumb kid stuff.”

“Even persecution of a childish nature bears painful resonance in later life,” Hannibal comments. “Moreover, isolation from one's peers may disrupt development in those vital years.”

You think of dolorous hours patrolling a fallow playground alone, three hundred children staring through you with adult hostility.

“I did make one friend,” you say. “First year of high school. Amy Glass. She was a weird kid, too.”

Hannibal scratches deftly on his notepad.

"Describe how you met."

Closing your eyes, you find your way back through the forests of the past to a corridor whose tiled floor squeaks under your shoes. You smell textbook paper and saccharine body spray. The sweat of young bodies, and the stale cafeteria fare you’d never tasted throughout your time there.

“Between classes Amy would sit in a window listening to music, or reading,” you say. “Stephen King, usually. Sometimes Anne Rice. She seemed to be up there all the time. I don’t think she was getting shit from the other kids or anything; she just preferred hanging out on her own.

“I wished I was like that, not caring. I wished I was her, period.”

“In what way?” asks Dr Lecter, and in the hallway of your mind a slender figure appears, brown of skin and eyes, blue hair cut roughly to the chin, its roots seeping in atop it like a stain.

Amy.

“A lot of ways,” you say. “Before I really knew her, it was about how she looked. She had piercings— ears, lip, nose, eyebrow. Teachers would tell her to take them out, then the second she was out of their eye-line she’d put them right back in. And even back then she had these awful stick and poke tattoos of bats and crosses she covered up with band aids for classes.

“She did all of them herself with a safety pin. God knows how she didn’t get an infection or anything.

“Then there was the fact I knew we liked some of the same music because of the patches on her bag, and her t-shirts and stuff. Nothing you’d approve of,” you add, as interest touches the face of your listener. “Jesus, I can’t even imagine playing stuff like that in this house. Anyway, I didn’t want to just be like, ‘hey, you like that band, too’. It would have been too weird. Stalkery, maybe?”

“Music isn’t such a terrible way to form a connection,” says Hannibal, amused. “I was once approached in friendship through a shared taste in cheese.”

Picturing his restrained derision you cannot help but laugh.

“Oh, god,” you say. “What were they thinking?”

“It was a naive assumption of commonalities. Besides, my commitment to professionalism would never have allowed us to be as close as he would have hoped.”

You give a little start of affront.

“You’ve made friends with other clients.”

Dr Lecter’s smile remains.

“Only with those whom I feel my presence benefits.”

“Benefits you, you mean,” you say, pettishly. “Whoever it was, you just didn’t like him that much. That’s why you turned him down. Or maybe he was too like you.”

Without appearing offended, Hannibal turns a page in his notebook.

“I'm unconcerned with debating my personal relationships, little one. Let’s return to Amy. Who initiated the friendship between you?”

“Amy,” you say. “It was after this councillor was trying to get something out of me, and I didn’t want to talk. I walked out that room feeling so... heavy, and grimy, and embarrassed. Then there was Amy, heading to the same office I just walked out of. She looked at me, scrunched her face up, and said, ‘Wish me luck.’ Next time I saw her I made the same face back and asked, ‘how was it?’

“‘The worst, just like always,’ she said. ‘Where’d she get her certificate, anyway? Clown school?’

“I burst out laughing. ‘She’s so bad, right?’

“And that was it. Friends. We went everywhere together. Amy really liked me. I don’t know why. I think maybe she thought I was sort of mysterious and interesting rather than just depressed, probably because I didn’t want to talk about what was going on with me.

“She told me everything about her. How her dad didn’t believe in mental health issues even though he was just like she was, and how her mom just ignored everything, hoping it’d just... go away. But I didn’t tell Amy even one little thing about me, really. Not one.”

Guilt you’ve never truly confronted falls like a petal from a late summer bloom, cloying the dark with its flavour.

“Did Amy ever indicate that she’d recognised your particular illness?” prompts Hannibal, and you shrug glumly.

“A couple of times. I ignored every hint. Changed the subject. Acted like it wasn’t a thing when it obviously was. I knew that she knew. That was the dynamic. She was softer, around me. She got it. She got me.”

Suddenly your breath feels very high in your chest, catching on a rib.

“I can’t help but notice your use of the past tense,” says Dr Lecter. “Might I assume that you are no longer friends?”

“We grew apart after school,” you mutter. “I think she would have liked it if I stayed in touch, but then sometimes I wonder if that’s just wishful thinking, and maybe she didn’t care all that much when we drifted apart and stopping talking.

“I have her on Facebook. That’s all, really. She was never a social media person anyway, but still. I could have tried harder. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

Hannibal allows the silence between you to ferment before he speaks again.

“Looking back, what do you think prevented you from maintaining contact?”

“I felt like after school was over she’d find other friends, and I’d just end up being left behind. So I got out of there before I had to see it happen.”

"You abandoned a friendship on the basis of a prophecy that might never have come to fruition."

"It would have,” you insist. “All my life I've had senses about things. Like, if I get a feeling something will or won't happen, I'm always right. Like I was right about you."

Swanlike, Dr Lecter’s hands move across his notebook, tactfully punctuating a note.

"It's common for sufferers of complex post-traumatic stress disorder to misinterpret their hypervigilance as psychic premonition. A heightened awareness of your surroundings and the behaviours of people in your vicinity develops in order to predict danger before it occurs. Pattern recognition is more mathematical than clairvoyant."

"What about my dreams?" you ask, sharply. “Are they math, too?”

"You've had other nightmares?” asks Hannibal, and leans forward, poised to digest you answer.

Canny, you hoard the matter like a serpent its glittering lair.

Hannibal accepts his defeat with grace.

Gathering up his notebook and the empty glass, he says, "That's enough therapy for now, particularly so early in the morning. I'll make you some tea, and you may return to sleep. Peacefully, this time, I hope."

*

Later, there is a meal that sits, sinking in a bath of bronze on Dr Lecter’s dining table, so much of it that you’re gorged merely from the arithmetic of its makeup.

“Arroz de Cabidela,” says Hannibal, as he pulls out his own chair. “A Portuguese dish made with rice, chicken, or rabbit cooked in its own blood. Today I’ve chosen rabbit. Have you ever eaten it before?”

It occurs to you that he expects you to be disturbed by the notion, but you are not. Meat is meat, all of it equally cruel. That life must end for the furthering of your existence has driven you to veganism many a time.

Little chance of sustaining such a diet now that you sleep in the devil’s slaughterhouse.

“No,” you say. “I’ve never tried rabbit. I heard it’s really... gamey.”

Your palate is scarcely educated enough to comprehend the statement. Still, it is apparently accurate, for Hannibal makes a low hum of agreement.

“It has similarities to poultry, in flavour, though it’s rather lean and dry. The blood stew adds a richness you’ll find complimentary, however.”

The scent is certainly inviting, but you are so committed to rejecting whatever is served to you that you feel lightheaded, succumbing to the altitude of starving heights.

“Couldn’t you have given me a smaller portion?” you ask, piteously. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s so... much.”

Hannibal glances from your plate to his own, his visage neutral.

“I’ve served you a great deal less than I’ve given myself,” he says. “That said, I’m sure we can settle our differences. I’m not unyielding, if I can see some effort is being made.”

You look him in the eye, hoping you appear more bold than frightened.

“Dr Lecter, you make me all these courses, and they’re crazy even for a normal person. I feel like you do it on purpose. And afterwards my stomach hurts.”

“That’s normal, after a period of fasting. Your body will adjust. Now, please eat.”

You don’t. The cut on your plate makes you think of the Lover’s dolls, how even at your slightest you wouldn’t have fit into such a shell. How, changed as you must be through Hannibal’s cooking, you would ooze over every edge.

“I could use the feeding tube, if you’re unwilling,” says Dr Lecter, rising from his chair to stand at your back. “It would be relatively easy for me to administer. But I’d hate to sour an otherwise pleasant meal with brute force.”

He cups your throat in his smooth hand, and you envision how lovingly he’d coil about you in restraint, guiding the pipe down through you as you choked and flinched in his grasp.

“I’ll eat a quarter,” you say. “That’s it. Then... then nothing else until tomorrow. I won’t sneak out of bed, and I won’t do anything that breaks the rules. Please, Dr Lecter. Uh... Daddy?”

Your confusion between roles endears you to him, as does your breathless, eager willingness to beg.

“Should I allow you to barter?” Hannibal muses, still caressing the wand of your stiff neck. “It’s a symptom of your illness, after all.”

“Just let me choose how much and I’ll try anything you offer me.”

Dr Lecter releases a small breath of laughter.

“I wouldn’t like you to eat your words, little one.”

Gnashing your teeth, you say, “I won’t. I can do it. Please let me. You’re supposed to dote on me, aren’t you?”

You feel Hannibal’s lips against your hair in a kiss of paternal indulgence.

“Always so spirited,” he says. “Very well. I cannot deny my little beauty her request.”

What beauty does he refer to? You’ve only recognised it in the mine shafts of furthest hunger, mistaking a shadow for some precious stone.

Yet clearly you are not so low quality as you believe if both men have fucked you so freely over other women, whom they could conceivably draw into the net of the house.

Then again, there is no accounting for the tastes of madmen, and mad they both are, even Hannibal in his gelid divinity.

From the topiary of his language and flippant games you are beginning to see that you interest him in your very opposition to his being. Were you to succumb completely you would not be so worthy: all men bow to Hannibal, after all, seduced and deceived until they’d lick his fingers like lambs for the milk of his approval.

You, like Will, resist and evade enough of his passes to set yourself apart from the flock.

You may yet throw a halter over the head of the horned man, if only in as much as he allows himself to be reigned.

Quartering your meal as neatly as you're able, you glance up at Dr Lecter, afraid that, by some caprice, he’ll break his code and force you to eat down to the bare plate. But he merely stands by, retaining his honour, and as you look at him you picture his mild hands breaking the neck of the rabbit to drain as though for a ritual of blood.

*

Frequently through your days with Hannibal he immerses himself in hobbies and work about the house, cultivating a necessary solitude after the long hours of ingesting others’ anxious thoughts.

He reads, or writes music, sketches, telephones his friends and past lovers—of whom there are many—or else sets his pen to journals, having seen you safe to your locked room, where he need not prepare for misdemeanour.

In this way your residence in Hannibal’s home does not impede upon his individual pursuits, but rather compliments them, an accent of his sempiturnal glamour.

You are, after all, but one of his many pastimes. It is indulgence, then, when he insists on attending your evening bath.

As he kneels beside the tub to dampen a washcloth his intentions surface, another infringement upon the flesh.

“I don’t need you to help me,” you mumble, arms taut across your chest. “I’m not your baby.”

“Your inner child wails for the tenderness your illness has long obstructed,” says Hannibal, calmly. “Your independence would have you die like an infant abandoned to the forest. Let me carry you, at least in this small act of service.”

You look at him with eyes as dull as old blades and picture the futility of your struggle, his lithe arms holding you, kicking and airless, beneath the foam.

“Don’t you have your own daughter you can do all this with?” you ask; you’ve not yet needled him on his familial relations, and feel yourself more than entitled to know.

Hannibal begins to work the flannel over your naked form, paying no heed to your twitching affront.

“Abigail would have served the role admirably,” he says. “But it wasn’t to be. As for my own children, I have none.”

The revelation passes you without surprise. It’s only possible to imagine him having elegant, adult offspring, absent of the soiling indignities of rearing an infant.

“So you took me away for you and Will to raise,” you say. “Guessing he doesn’t have kids, either.”

The washcloth folds beneath the water, and you gaze studiously at the opposite wall so as not to think about the hand behind the fabric, how it has touched you in other ways, pleasantly, horridly.

“Will is also childless,” says Dr Lecter. “He has never known family, as you have. His mother left him when he was only an infant, and his father was a distant figure, though present. Now it seems that they’re estranged from one another. One can only imagine the loneliness Will has known in his life. Perhaps, with your assistance, this will change.”

Cloth, skin, hands, touch. Gentle and beguiling their trap, to distract from the permanence of this suggested triptych as fingers play against you underwater.

Unsteadily, you ask, “Is Will your boyfriend?”

Hannibal turns you an indecipherable look.

“Do you perceive our relationship to be romantic?”

A strange question, considering the violation with which you were inducted to their company. But not once did either man kiss or grasp the other— a technicality, certainly, yet one, it seems, that holds weight.

“Yes,” you say. “For you, anyway. I don’t know about Will. I know he thinks highly of you. He just sees me as something that’s in the way.”

You kick a foot testily, splashing water over the rim of the bath.

“What are you in the way of?” asks Hannibal, as he begins to lather your hair.

“Not sure. Your friendship, I guess.”

“Do you believe him when he implies that you're only an obstacle to him?”

Water pours over your head, and you close your eyes, enduring the sensation.

“He told me I’m unwanted,” you say.

“When you attempted to kill him?”

Fear bowls over you with a black suddenness.

“He told you?”

“I came to my own conclusions. You weren't quiet, either of you, that night."

You look at Hannibal, at the stag man of your dreams, and taste something like dirt, something like blood, at the back of your mouth.

“Had you seriously injured him or succeeded in your bid to end his life I would have been forced to conclude our treatment,” he says. “But you did not. I’m thankful to have been provided with a truth I hadn’t yet drawn from you: I know that you are not a killer, at least not at this present moment.”

In a strengthless whisper, you ask, “What do you mean?”

Hannibal draws a comb through your hair, unmoved by the conversation.

“As time changes the continents, people come apart through circumstance into new being. That shift may one day lead to the birth of murder’s country.”

A thought stings you like the cold: Will and Hannibal want you to be capable of killing, if not of them, then someone of lesser consequence, the hereditary illness emerging in the child.

That is the secret under this house, the whisper in the walls, its present haunting.

“I hope that never happens,” you mumble. “Never. No matter what you do.

“And yet the whetting of your blood thirst didn’t begin with Will and I,” says Dr Lecter, mildly. “Until you admit your liking of its flavour you will remain unsatisfied, little one.”

You do not ask how he knows you’ve thought of killing, once before, which you yourself had forgotten; having been in your home, the chill sanctum of your childhood bedroom, he may have learned, of you, a myriad, his interrogation merely a practice in contextualising his findings.

“I’d rather starve,” you say, at last, and sink your chin beneath the water.

Dr Lecter takes a razor from a nearby cabinet and begins to shave you with slow precision. He does not ask if you wish for it, only glides the razor across your underarms, groin, and each leg until you run silken beneath his hands.

That done, Hannibal rises, brushing unseen dust from his knees.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes,” he says, and leaves the room, a ghost departing the stage.

You look at the razor, entrapped in its plastic guard on the rim of the bath.

Had you a pair of scissors you might have cut the metal free to make a weapon, or else an escape into realms unknown to the living. Though its edge is still wickedness manifest, it would take a great deal of pressure to pursue death by this angle, though it would not be impossible.

It is not death you want to meet, however, but another, nameless coward.

You take the blade to your arm, and the pain is like eating, a sin that sates the freak of misery.

The bathwater turns like a devil’s baptism, and though they are but shallow cuts you feel suddenly faint. Lying back, you lay your arm against the porcelain, thinking murky thoughts of your mistake.

Hannibal returns carrying a muted lilac dress and pale stockings, stilling at the sight of you, of the water, red as autumn mud.

He sets down the clothing and kneels beside you again.

“Let me see.”

You let him take your arm and touch the crude little gashes softly.

“Shower, quickly. Then I’ll treat your wounds. Fortunately, they aren’t so deep.”

How gentle he is with you, this beast dressed as a man in his pressed shirt and waistcoat, guiding your numb form about with a soothing authority. You’d once yearned to be handled like this, to be absolved and set free of any and all expectation. That it comes from him is like being spit in the eye by the Fates, one after the other.

Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos: what have you done to so offend them?

It’s only after having bandaged your forearm and settled you, dummy-like, upon his bed, that Hannibal speaks again.

“What motivated you to do this?”

“You know.”

“Elaborate.”

You lie, face down, in the pillows. The cotton smells like him.

“To feel better,” you say. “Amy said it helped her, sometimes. Cleared her head.”

The mattress tilts slightly as Dr Lecter sits down beside you.

“You mirror her pain to feel closer to love lost. Has it helped you?”

“No. I feel stupid. I feel—”

Restless, you turn onto your side and feel a tear, compelled by gravity, mark your jaw.

“I feel like a kid,” you say. “It’s humiliating. I hate that I always feel this way. Don’t make me live like this.”

Dr Lecter presses a tissue into your hand, as much to save his bedclothes as to comfort you.

“Fighting the expression of necessary emotions will only stunt them further, little one. Will and I would dearly like to see you flourish. Amy would surely wish that for you, too.”

Cradling your wounded arm to your chest, you flick the used tissue to the floor with the other.

“Screw you,” you say. “Both of you. That’s what Amy would tell me to say to you, Dad.”

Hannibal stares at the tissue, and you sense the inward twitch of his irritation as he bends to pick it up from the ground.

“Your parents called again, this afternoon,” he says, offhandedly. “I informed them that you were struggling with your treatment. I advised that we continue your residence here a month longer than previously agreed.”

He casts you a pitying look, and you’re reminded of the futility of going to war with Hannibal Lecter.

“It seems that I made the prudent choice,” he says. “Don’t you agree?”

[missredherring]

An Act Of Kindness

Eddie (BTVS) x Fat!F!Vampire!Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 3k

Summary: "More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

Contents: fatphobia. descriptions of throwing up. horny thots. mouth-to-mouth blood transfer kiss. Max being a dick. Sweet baby angel vampire Eddie.

A/N: I really had a fun time playing with the idea of Max being Eddie's selfish douchebag maker. I'm also trying to write a more explicitly fat reader, and a confident one at that.

Thank you to @reaperofmen for beta reading.

Tagging those who expressed an interest: @prolix-yuy @oonajaeadira

Part Two

The man is a little too intoxicated for your tastes, but you've put off feeding for too long this time. He followed you out here without complaint, just strolling after you with a sleazy grin on his face. It takes effort to keep up the coy act; the arrogance and stupidity of men hasn't changed in centuries. 

He only chuckles when you nudge him to the wall and reach to pull the shirt collar away from his neck. His sweaty hands are on your wide hips, pulling you closer and squeezing too hard. 

You almost don't hear it with how focused you are on his pulse, with how the hunger has hollowed you out so the rattling bass of the club music thumps inside your chest in place of a beating heart. The smell however, couldn't be missed: rejected blood on damp pavement. The hot and cool scent sours in your nose and makes you turn away in an attempt to clear it. 

"Don't get nervous on me now, baby. C'mon, you should be thankful I'm paying attention to a girl like you. Not everyone likes 'em big," your prey says and you give serious thought to opening his neck and draining him like the pig he is.

A hint of a command in your voice shuts him up and pins him in place. He's humming to himself, stargazing in the back alley of a club like an idiot while you walk around the nearby dumpsters to find the source of the smell.

It would be bad manners to poach in another's territory. Vampires have a habit of becoming especially violent when feedings go wrong, and by the smell of it, this one had. The days of killing first and asking questions never are sadly long gone. The consequences of a bad temper are swift and deadly when everyone has a camera in their pocket. The newer generation of vampires think your kind are invincible, but they just haven't shed the bravado of youth enough to appreciate just how well thinking before acting can serve them. The last thing you need tonight is to spend precious hours cleaning up after someone else's mistake that could've been prevented with a little caution.

You see a tattered book sticking out of a back pocket first. The pages gleam like a beacon in the dim light. The figure is hunched over, clutching at their middle with one hand and the wall with the other for support. One more spasm of their stomach expels a bit of tar-like blood and there's nothing left to come back up. 

At their feet are the mangled remains of a human; flesh torn in haste and wasted blood already turning dark and dry. It reeks of alcohol.

As they stumble back their heel catches on the corpse and you end your observation to act, putting a hand out to stop their fall backwards onto the dirty pavement.

They whirl around to reveal a face as pale as the pages of their book. Dark eyes stare back at you in fear from under floppy brown hair that's fallen over his forehead. It's a fledgling vampire, as you suspected, his face still transformed from his high emotions. 

"I d-didn't- it's not what--" he tries to say but his stomach gurgles and he has to lurch away again; the heaving of his muscles is undeniable. 

Your lips curl up as fresh bile scents the air, but you reach out to pat his back a little until he calms and finally stops. 

"Thank you." He says, turning back to you. He wipes at his face, leaving streaks of blood on his sleeves and cheeks. Tears wet his lashes as his face slowly smooths back into its human death mask. It's easy to see he's beautiful even in this terrible lighting. A sharp bone structure balanced with round eyes and plump lips. He's sorely out of place in the clubbing scene, dressed as he is in simple clothes, sneakers, and a jacket that hangs on his frame. He's a fallen angel let loose on the devil's playground. 

With all of his sudden movements the book has fallen from his pocket. You pick it up, reading the title with an amused twist of your lips. Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. You hold it out to him with a smile wide enough to show your own fangs.

"Where is your maker, darling? Surely they didn't leave you on your own?" You ask.

He flusters so prettily, and you imagine how red his cheeks would've turned when the blood ran fresh in his veins. Some of the tension drops from his broad frame and he carefully takes the book from you with a nod of thanks.

"I'm Eddie," Eddie motions towards the club's backdoor with the book. "Max- my maker- he's still in there. He told me to watch him 'do his thing,' but it's been hours so I came out here to read. A-and then this guy came out and wouldn't leave me alone. I was so hungry-"

He glances down at the corpse and swallows thickly, his shoulders rounding as he hunches in on himself. 

You tsk and turn Eddie away from the mess. He goes willingly, twisting the book in his hands before stuffing it into his jacket pocket.

"A club full of unleashed humanity is no place for a fledgling. Come, you may share my meal. It should be enough to hold you until you can find more suitable food."

Your prey is still looking up, his throat on full display, when you lead Eddie to him. 

You motion to Eddie your permission for him to feed, but he doesn't move.

"He said it's supposed to get easier," he says almost to himself, his gaze glued to the hypnotizing beat of the man's pulse. "But I didn't mean to kill him. I don't know if I can control myself right now."

It's sweet, that thread of earnestness in his voice. You smile at him and take up your previous position, finally biting into your prey's neck. The blood is hot as you suck it into your mouth. It's so very tempting to swallow and gulp, to latch on and drain every drop until the heartbeat slows just enough to keep him alive. But Eddie is shifting behind you, and it's a reminder of his plight, his nervousness and attentiveness at your back. His breathing picks up when you break the seal of your lips, even though he doesn't need to inhale anymore.

The man slumps back into the wall as you leave him and approach Eddie. 

Eddie's eyes are wide, the pupils expanding in reaction to his want. He flinches just a little when you press both of your palms on his shoulders, using a bit of force in your muscles and only a twinkle of amusement in your eyes to put him on his knees. Then you cup his handsome face and kiss him.

He's hesitant and unsure when you press your lips to his and slip your blood-coated tongue into his mouth. A rush of liquid follows gravity's lead, and he grabs you then. His arms surge up under your own, careful not to disturb your hold on him as he fights to get as good a hold on you as he can. Large hands catch on fabric, and he grips the rolls of cool skin on your back.

He holds you to him with the desperate strength of the newly turned. You chuckle into his mouth. His hands may sink into your soft flesh, but it'll take much more than this to break you. 

After the initial rush he sips and sips at your mouth. He sucks blood and saliva from your tongue and whines in the back of his throat when it's gone.

"More," he begs, his tongue eager and searching out every drop. "Please."

He growls when you take a step back, his grip shifting to your clothes, and it's a testament to your seamstress' skills that they don't tear. Although, you're starting to think you wouldn't mind this young vampire rending your clothes from your body. 

You swipe at a smear of blood at the corner of his lip, and your thumb is in his mouth a second later, his dark eyes never leaving your face. 

"Do you feel more under control now?" You ask, and the question brings him back to himself.

"Y-yes. Thank you." He says, and his attention goes back to the night's meal. Another glance at you and Eddie is on the man, his fangs sinking into flesh in the same spot that yours had. 

Eddie's moan is a sinful call and there's an answering throb in your fangs and your core. 

At a more leisurely pace you come up behind the men, taking in Eddie's feeding technique. It's sloppy and non-existent. His hunger is only just tempered by the fear of his new existence. 

"Listen closely to his heartbeat. Can you catch its rhythm? Pull on a beat, and then wait. Move the blood in your mouth; taste it, savor it, and be thankful for its nourishment," you instruct him in a soft tone. Food aggression can get nasty with fledglings before they're taught better table manners. 

Eddie's head tilts towards you, and he blinks a few times, his gulping stuttering to a stop as he absorbs your words. It takes a moment, only one heartbeat, and then two, but he finds the rhythm and begins to dine instead of gorging himself. 

"Well done, darling, that's it," you say, and the way he preens under such little praise makes you want to shower him in it. 

Feeding, fucking, and fighting are core tenets of a vampire's life, and you feel them keenly right now. It would be easy to find another meal and then test Eddie's skills in other areas. You run a hand over his head and note how he doesn't growl or snap or perceive your presence as a threat to his meal.

Your hunger is changing, the allure of food fading as you feel the slight movement of his head as he readjusts his angle at the man's neck. If you took his chin in your hand and directed his mouth to your cunt, would he continue feasting? Eddie gulps, forcing his Adam's apple to bob in his throat, and you clench your thighs together to tease yourself.

"Killing isn't necessary when feeding. It's downright rude when you have consenting partners and is frowned upon in most circles these days. Follow the rhythm until it falters and becomes too irregular. That's enough to satisfy you and leave them alive."

The man's heart has only just begun to misfire from the lack of blood when Eddie jerks away, landing on his backside and breathing hard. Again he wipes at his face with his sleeve, but this time the expression on his face is triumphant. 

He looks at you with a grin stretching his ruddy cheeks, and you want nothing more than to kiss him again. To sink down on him and feel the fresh blood rushing through his body. It would be so tempting to drink from him in return, to mark his pretty skin with your teeth. Has he had a vampire lover before? Does he know the pleasure of another's bite? Would he let you be the one to show him?

You rest a hand on the alley wall, and your nails gouge through the cinder block like a cat's claws caught in lace. You allow yourself to indulge in the lusty thoughts before taking control of your urges. 

"Are you alright?" He asks.

"Just hungry." You say, your tongue catching on an extended canine. 

"Oh. Oh, no," he frets. "You said you'd share him and I drank it all. I'm so sorry, I can go find someone-" Eddie gets to his feet and is turning away from you, but you take his hand and keep him in place.

"You're a fledgling, darling, and need it more than I do right now. Don't worry, hunger is an old friend." 

You're about to tug him close and offer to spend the rest of the night with him when an unctuous voice calls out from behind you.

"I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. A back alley blowjob, huh? You didn't even have to leave the club for one of those."

Any distracting desire is sufficiently snuffed when you recognize the voice, and you curse your foolishness for it.

Of course Eddie's maker, Eddie's Max, is Max Phillips. A graduate of the feeding ground disguised as a college. It chewed up a selfish boy and spit out a selfish vampire. He cares for nothing but his own gain, and frankly you're surprised that a boy as seemingly sincere as Eddie got tangled up with him. But if they're together, maybe Eddie isn't as innocent as he seems. Max does like to pull the wool over his victim's eyes. 

Eddie quickly steps in front of you. "Max, I-"

"I don't care, kid. You're not dead so that's good enough for me," Max says, not taking his eyes off of you. Up and down, they roam over your thick thighs, wide hips, and ample curves. His perusal makes you realize that Eddie's gaze had never strayed far from your face. 

"Well, if it isn't Bella Lugosi, herself," he says, smirking at his own joke. 

"Bella?" Eddie echoes, looking at you with curiosity. 

"I have been called beautiful in many languages over the centuries by lovers and admirers alike. I do like bella; it suits me well, don't you think?" Ignoring Max in favor of teasing Eddie, you enjoy the way his eyes track the movement of your hand across your belly, his eyes keen on your fingers as they press into the giving flesh of your hip. "Max thinks he's being clever." 

"I was clever enough not to be fat when I was turned. A gym membership won't do shit for you now, sweetheart," Max shoots back, and your lip curls in disgust. It's so disappointing that he is quite handsome. While his looks are striking and sharp, the image is ruined when he opens his mouth and starts spewing shit.

"What small insults from a small mind," you say. "Eddie is your fledgling, then?"

"Sure is. Aren't you, champ? You didn't smell my scent on him?" Max saunters to Eddie's side now, his polished shoes clicking on the pavement. He slings an arm around Eddie and shakes him a little. They're a mismatched pair in every aspect. Max's tailored suit with its coordinated pocket square and cufflinks a stark contrast to Eddie's simple attire. Had Max even bothered to procure more clothes for him, providing for his fledgling, as a maker should? Or did he leave Eddie to his own devices? A miserable look passes over Eddie's face before he tries to cover it up, and you think you know the answer. 

"I thought that was the dumpsters," you say and wrinkle your nose at the strong cologne Max insists on wearing even with his heightened senses. There's a hint of a smirk on Eddie's lips before they twist back into a semblance of a straight line. 

Max opens his mouth to say something, but a scream coming from inside the club stops him. Another one follows, and the pounding music is abruptly stopped. You could feel the vibration of many feet moving on the ground like a disturbed ant hill. 

"Leaving another spoiled hunting ground in your wake I see, Max." You scold him, but he just shrugs. Has he no shame for his actions?

"Just a few girls who wanted a good time," he says and jerks Eddie a step away. "That's our cue to leave, kid. Say goodbye to the big bad vampire lady."

Eddie's eyes fly to you, and you're surprised at how strong the bloom of disappointment is in your chest. He wriggles out of Max's grasp and swallows at the scowl his maker throws him, but his steps are sure as walks back to you.

"Thank you for your help tonight." Eddie says, taking your cold hand and squeezing it. He brushes a kiss on the round apple of your cheek, and his lips are warm and chapped from his recent feeding.

The tang of Max's scent is on him, yes, but now that both men are present you can identify the scents that are unique to Eddie. You inhale and memorize the hint of vanilla, citrus, and cedar. 

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure meeting you, Eddie." 

He smiles, revealing a deep dimple in his cheek. "The pleasure is all mine, bella. I hope I'll see you again."

You untuck a slim card case from your cleavage and take out a calling card. The way Eddie's eyes track your movements, lingering on your chest, makes you stand a little taller and lean a little closer to him when you hold it out to him. 

He takes it, examining the cream cardstock and tracing a finger over the iridescent ink. Your name and a street address in the city are the only things printed on it. 

"If you need help in the future, you may call on me." You tell him and he nods dutifully.

"Oh. My. God. You're gonna make me hurl, and the alcohol hasn't even kicked in yet. Let's go, Edward." Max says, and the command snaps Eddie to attention, forcing him to turn away from you and follow Max out of the alley.

Police sirens are getting louder, and the streetlight is soon overshadowed by flashing red and blue lights. 

You don't spare a glance at the man passed out against the wall or the corpse a little further down as you leave. They can be lumped together with Max's mess, and he can have the blame for them as well. 

Tonight didn't go as planned at all, but you know that teasing your appetites only deepens them, and when you finally sate them it will taste that much more delicious.

[reigningqueenofwords]

One Second, Sweetheart

Pairing: Dean x plus size!Reader Word count: 1,682 Warnings: Fatphobia Request: Can you do a request with Dean and the plus size reader where they go to a festival and she takes his snap back and he is just in awe but he gets mad when guys start saying mean things about her. She is in shorts and a tank top and he finally has enough and freaks out in the guy.

Read on AO3

Part 1 of Festival

You’d been looking forward to this weekend for months . Dean had gotten the pair of you tickets to a festival you’d been wanting to go to, but always came up with reasons not to. Finally, he bought them so there would be no more excuses. You’d bought a couple new outfits (you’d even splurged at Torrid!) just for the occasion, as well. 

He would be picking you up on Thursday night, driving most of the day Friday, and then checking into your hotel Friday night. You’d been the one to book that. There was no way you’d let him pay for everything! The festival would be on Saturday and Sunday, and then you’d be driving home Monday morning. Four days with your best friend. That you may or may not be in love with. Maybe. Not that you’d ever tell him that. 

Standing in your room, you looked over your bed. You were packing for your trip, and trying to make sure that you didn’t miss anything. “Outfit for Saturday, check.” You muttered to yourself. “Two outfit options for Sunday.” You went on. “Chub rub stick, deodorant, dry shampoo, makeup bag, a pair of cute shoes, a pair of comfy shoes…” You went on. “Why does it feel like I’m forgetting something?” You furrowed your brows. “Phone charger! Oh my God. How did I forget that?!” You went to grab your spare. The last thing you wanted was your phone dying. 

You grinned when you opened your door Thursday night. “Hi!” You let him in. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He smiled. “Looking forward to this weekend?” He sure as hell was!

“I am. Four days with my best friend? Of course I’d be looking forward to it.” You teased. “Let me get my shoes on, and then we can go.” 

He motioned to the two bags by the door. “Just these two?” He asked, glancing at you. You simply nodded. “I’ll get these out to the car.” He lifted them without giving you a chance to protest. A moment later he was headed back out. 

You quickly got on your shoes, grabbed your phone and purse, and followed him out. Once your door was locked, you jogged out to the car. “Did you want me to drive first?” You offered. 

“Nah. I napped all day.” He shrugged. “You hungry?” He leaned on the top of the Impala, that knee buckling smile on his face. 

“I could eat.” You smiled, slipping into the passenger’s seat.

“That’s my girl.” He said proudly. 

Saturday morning, you were up early. Before Dean was up, you quickly got ready, and then went out to get the pair of you breakfast. Sure, you could have gotten something at the hotel, but you didn’t always like the options. So, you went down the road to a little cafe you’d seen. 

Twenty minutes later, you were walking back into the hotel room with breakfast and coffee. “Wondered where you went, sweetheart.” Dean spoke from the side of his bed. His voice still held the remnants of sleep.

“Was hoping to get back before you woke up.” You chuckled, setting everything down on the table. “I got you an egg, bacon, and cheese bagel, with a hashbrown.” You smiled. “And then a coffee.” 

“Smells amazing.” He got up to go sit with you at the table. “I’ll shower after I eat and then we can head out. Sound good?” 

You nodded, getting comfortable in your chair. “Sounds perfect.” 

“This has been amazing, Dean!” You gushed after you’d been at the festival a few hours. “I will never be able to thank you enough for this.” You looked around, not seeing the way he looked at you. “You will get the best Christmas and birthday presents ever for the rest of your life.” 

He chuckled lightly, shaking his head. “Nah, this was for both of us.” He told you honestly. Seeing you light up like this was a gift enough for him. 

You grinned up at him. “Selfie together?” You asked, hopeful. You really hadn’t taken many pictures that day, but you knew you wanted at least one of the pair of you. 

“Of course.” He agreed, taking your phone. “I am taller.” He teased, holding up the phone to get a couple pictures. “Wanna go grab lunch at the hotel, cool off, then come back when it’s socially acceptable to drink?” He asked as he handed you back your phone to put in your little bag. 

“Sounds good. Give our feet a break.” And give you a chance to refresh your anti-chub rub stick. 

After a few drinks, you were a bit giggly. Not drunk, but feeling really good. Smiling up at Dean, you bit your lip and snatched his snapback off his head when he wasn’t looking. He whipped his head around just to see you putting it on. “What do you think?” You asked, striking a playful pose. 

He had been fully ready to tell someone off for taking his hat until he realized that it had been you. Licking his lips, he playfully let out a sigh. “I think I just lost my hat because it looks good on you. Matches your tank top.” He noted. 

You blushed, nudging his side lightly, and you were taken aback when he put his arm around you to keep you close. You shyly put your arm around his waist, not complaining one bit. While you could hear laughter, you assumed it was just other festival goers having a good time. Drinks had been flowing for a few hours now, afterall. However, when you heard a ‘moo’ a little to close to you, you tense. 

Dean noticed, glancing at you. “You okay?” He asked, worried. 

“I’m fine.” You brushed it off. “How about we go to the taco truck for dinner?” You suggested. 

“Yeah, because she needs tacos.” A voice from not far snorted. 

That one Dean had heard, but he didn’t want to ruin your night, so he ignored it. “Sounds good.” He smiled, moving to lead you away from whatever asshole made that comment. He didn’t realize the same group was following. “Burgers tomorrow for dinner?” He suggested. 

“Have I ever turned burgers with you down, Dean?” You teased. 

“She should, isn’t that cannibalism?” Another voice laughed, making you swallow. You weren’t unused to cruel comments, you’d been bigger your whole life. However, it had died down quite a bit since you’d graduated high school years ago. “Maybe get a damn salad.” 

Your hand gripped the side of Dean’s shirt, willing them to just go away. “How’s Sammy doing?” You asked, trying to veer things away from the rude guys behind you. 

Dean chuckled. “He’s good.” He smiled. “Starts every call asking me if we’re dating yet.” He admitted, making your eyebrows shoot up. “Then gets annoyed when I tell him no.” 

Before you could say anything, another rude comment met your ears. “Who the hell would want to date her?” The first voice asked. “She should go to the gym and put some damn clothes on. No one wants to see that.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he moved his arm from around you. “One second, sweetheart.” He saw the worry on your face. “I’m just going to talk to them.” 

You watched him get closer to them and gasped when his fist met some guy’s nose. “Dean!” You rushed over, pulling on the back of his shirt. 

“What? You can say a bunch of shit but you can’t deal with the consequences?” He spat at the group who looked like they were about to bolt. “Learn not to be such assholes and you won’t wind up with a broken nose.” 

“What the hell, man?!” One finally spoke up. “Why are you defending that?!” 

That made Dean even madder. “That? That ?! That is my best friend, the woman I love, and a better person than you could ever hope to be.” 

“Come on, Dean.” You tugged him, as more people were looking. “Let’s go back to the motel.” You said softly. He loved you?! Since when? 

Dean heard the softness of your voice and let himself be pulled away. “Yeah, let’s go.” He pulled you back to his side, kissing the top of your head as he led you towards the exit. He was clearly still upset over what was said, but now he was also a bit worried. You’d heard him say that he loves you. Would he lose his best friend? He couldn’t lose you! 

Neither of you said anything the entire way back to the hotel. Neither of you knew what to say. You were wrapping your head around him feeling the same way about you, and he was panicking that this would push you away. 

Finally, you sat on the end of your bed and pulled off your sneakers. You left his hat on your head, not wanting to give it back just yet. “Hey, Dean?” You asked, nervous. 

“Yeah?” He braced himself. 

“Did you mean what you said? That you love me?” You asked, crossing your fingers it wasn’t just something to shut those guys up. He blushed and looked down, speaking volumes. “Because I love you, too.” 

His head shot up, and his eyes were wide. “What?” He breathed. 

You giggled at the look on his face. “I’ve loved you for ages. Who wouldn’t?” You asked, getting up to walk to where he was sitting. “Thank you for sticking up for me.” You ran your hand through his hair. As he leaned into your touch you giggled. 

“I’ll always defend you, sweetheart.” He sighed, sounding content. He surprised you by wrapping his arms around your hips. As he rested his head against your stomach, perfectly comfortable holding you. 

“How about we order dinner, and then cuddle while we wait for it to get here?” You asked, feeling brave. 

“Don’t have to ask me twice.” He agreed, looking forward to holding you. “Sleep in my bed tonight? We can keep it totally PG.” He promised, looking up at you. 

Smiling, you nodded. “I think I can do that.” 

[big-edies-sun-hat]

Watched Lisa Frankenstein last night—was really delighted by it. I can see why male critics weren’t, but it hit its marks.

There were things they remembered from the 80s that only women would, like the Mean Fat Goth Girl archetype. (This is not fatphobia, it is just a type of person you saw, like Pajama Pants Girl. I can think of at least two that gave me grief.) Also the tanning bed was used as a site of rebirth, instead of just a punishment in waiting for vanity. I did it a few times as a teen because I hoped the UV light would be good for my skin problems, and it was.

Spoilers

The more I thought about it in the night, the more problems I saw. Like, why wasn’t he writing to Lisa? He was clearly literate to a fault. Why did he only gain the power to speak offscreen at the end? And how did they solve the problem of him smelling “like a hot toilet at a carnival”? Or did they not?

Also, whenever I see or read about a high-achieving woman getting a boyfriend from The Past—either because of time travel or because she was born too soon—I have questions. Sure, he knows his Shelley, but what about his Wollstonecraft? Is he not racist, or at least just abolitionist? 

Speaking of anachronisms, the toughest girl from the 80s would not mention “changing her pad” in front of a guy unless he was a medical professional, and probably not even then if he was young. It was hard enough to take pads up to a male checkout guy. (My dad, a wonderful man, is still slightly unnerved by the sight of perfectly clean unused feminine items—)

But in any case I only think about a movie so much if I adored it or hated it, and I certainly did not hate it … does this mean fic—oh dear—

[trannydragon]

I have seen to many people simping over elf senshi and saying “oh hes so pretty now”

Get out. Get out of my tunnel system right fucking now i hope you get lost on the way, you can like elf senshi idgaf but the way i see ppl talking about it are “oh hes slender now it’s amazing” or “oh his beard is so much better now” or “hes soooo attractive” get out.

I can smell ur underlying fatphobia to those who say “hes so slender now” and to those who are saying hes more attractive now i am side eyeing you very heavily and asking you to leave thanks

[ghostsprettymama]

MONA LISA.

“ i want you to give in”

Warnings: smut,bullying,panick attacks,alcohol and possible drug use, anxiety, talks of suicide,toxic relationships,fatphobia,gun violence, throw up. MDNI.

Word count: 4,274 words 22,560 characters

pairings: Riri williams x Black! Reader fluff, shuri x Black! reader, top!black reader x gang member ! Shuri udaku

ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ UNLESS MENTIONED OTHERWISE

A/N: NAUR BC I WAS WORKING ON TS IN MY DRAFTS AND I ACCIDENTLY DELETED IT 😭😭 BUT TYSM FOR SM LOVE ON THE LAST POST HERES PART 2.

part one part three

blue text = whispering.

Y/N pov

You woke up in your room . With no collection on how you ended up there, but you do remember why you have this massive ass hangover, you checked your phone seeing Shuri’s message on instagram.

you squinted at the messages smiling, but your momment got ruined by your Brother “ wake yo ass up or T and all of us are leaving yo blackass home and you're gonna miss your first day" Said Erik on the other side.

You groaned getting up from your bed charging your phone while you went to the shower "siri play my song. " you said in your gentle morning voice.

Your phone responded automatically playing your song while you showered putting on your F/s bodywash, taking care of yourself in the shower, stepping out when youre squeaky clean and smelling good.

Youd put on your fit for the day stopping the music, taking your phone and charger with you, along with your purse so you have other mecessarities with you.

you went downstairs heading outside while Erik was waiting for you, he looked you up and down "Fuck you goin lookin like that" Erik said glaring down at you, the 6'2 man said looking down at you "take ya blackass back and change, my sister aint going out like no whore" he said.

A whore? You're dressed like a whore.. you look at him your pretty eyes threatened tears, your pretty makeup threatening to be ruined. "nono please, bee I promise you can go like that you aren't a whore" Erik said to you, your tears no longer threatening to come out.

You both headed to the car and the Udaku sibblings followed behind, shuri looked you up and down Before smacking your ass when the older brothers arent looking.

"SHURI-"

you yelped and the men turned around looking like someone was about to be murdered, both of them reaching for their hips, shuri motioned for them not to and you didnt understand why.

"sorry saw a spider" the two tall dudes sighed shaking their heads "dont do that shit again unless you want us to make sure someones not breathing anymore" said T'challa shaking his head getting in the drivers seat after unlocking one of his many cars, but he only used this one for school. you reached for shuris' hand but she shook her head " youre big now, you dont need to hold my hand" She obviously teased,

You just got in the backseat of the car with shuri, the two men sitting up front. you thought about what she had said, it made you upset either way, but you shook your head listening to one of your second favorite songs

SHURI POV

she looked at instagram going to her dms, seeing one unread dm from Riri, a close friend of hers, they werent at all interested in eachother but here and there theyd joke like they were.

She looked at the previous convo trying to remember what and who they were talking about and why, these two werre notorius shit talkers, but aint nobody stopped them, even if they can they cant.

Ohhh... she thought ttyping fast with her digits trying to carry on with the conversation hoping Riri isnt mad,Not that Shuri needs her, she js enjoys her prescense as a friend, she held Riri dearly to her.

She rolled her eyes turning her phone off, Shuri knew Riri was just concerned about Y/n, after all the school they go to is fucked up, but its the closest and least expensive one.

T'challa pulled up to the school everyone but Y/n getting out, Shuri decided to show out and open y/ns door helping her out the car. She held her hand as they walked into ths school, everyone looking Y/n up and down

"Why are they looking at me shuri.." she said to shuri in a whisper, "well maybe because youre a woman thats fine as fuck coming to a bigass school, and holding my hand?" Y/n bobbed for the answer and got the wrong apple, Shuri took the ' sarcastic asshole ' response in return for a dumb question.

T'challa pov

"You two already got your schedule right?" T'challa said turning to them, hoping to god they didnt forget the schedules at home or theyre gonna have to drive back. Even if T' challa seemed to be some ' big scary gangsta ' as titled by peers. He rather not be late to class.

"yeah, i got me and i put Y/n's schedule in her purse so we good." Erik said, T'challa got closer to erik when he pulled schedule out, shit was so crumbled you could barely read the words on there. "My nigga what the FUCK is this??" t'challa looked at him with his signature look on his face.

"Bro leave me alone i was rushing" said Erik looking back at him as if he got hit in the head with a hot comb. they both broke out into laughter not being able to take looking at eachother like that. "anyways we got the same schedule, what about you two?" T'challa looked at the girls who were already gone.

"did they ju- " T'challa turned to erik and he nodded, both of them shook their head in sync. "kids these days.."he said causing erik to chuckle.

They hated eachother but still kept the unremovable bond of their good friendship, who even knows why they arent actually friends anymore. The tale is like a mystery to people. Neither T'challa or Erik open up about it, but only shuri and the udaku sibblings mother Ramonda knew.

homeroom period bell rings

Y/N pov

She sat by Shuri and her friend Riri we met while walking around,both were on each sides of me and it mad me feel safe, she adjusted her braclets bracelets, some teachers gave her work the students were already working on,i only had gotten it due to the fact that shes a " hard worker".

Riri nudged me motioning me to pull my jacket up and cover my chest, I raised my eyebrows looking down, shit...she left hickeys on my chest you thought to yourself zipping up your jacket "Thanks Riri..." you smiled at her and she gave you a fist bump. "its nothin, a sista helps a sista out" she said as the bell rang your homeroom teacher coming in, damn she was fine.

RIRI POV

Shuri better not let this one go, i actually like her. She sighed to herself after fist-bumping her, Watching Miss Romanoff come in Rolling her eyes, she desperately loathed that woman with everything in her damn body.

“Good morning class we have a new student today, could you stand up” said Natasha,Riri glanced at her and she got up walking to the front,

I dont got a good feelin about this, She looked at shuri and shuri nodded feeling the exact feelings

Y/n POV

She got up, coming to the front of the classroom waiting for it to go silent. She gave her usual pretty smile. “ Hello im Y/n L/n and i hope this school treats me right”. She was going for her seat before Romanoff said something.

“ any facts? Like your family or you” She said to Y/n as she sat down, she looked at shuri before looking at riri, both of them shook their heads. “I Rather not, thats not anyones buisness in here anyway” you shrugged sitting back down, finishing the papers you had gotten.

Romanoff's eyebrow raised before she went to her desk handing you a paper and book. Youd put it aside before putting the papers in youur pink folder putting it in your folder.

you felt eyes on you, when you turned you looked at a white boy with brown hair and dark eyes trying to uncover who you are.

But his friend next to him calling him, causing the boy to look away.

You raised an eyebrow at his actions, a weird one you thought. Maybe he wanted to play a game, but you werent interested in some white boy with a staring problems games.

After class

you and your two friends left first standing by the lockers and talking about what had happened, shuri paid attention to your body language taking note of Peter, if he made you uncomfy she would do something about it, if he didn't then he was fine.

“Yeah, the weird guy? Peter, he’s usually talking to ned in their world, I don't know what's up with me today.” Riri said shrugging it off, you dismissed it too not caring about him either way, shuri looked at Peter and ned while you two talked. “I just find it weird that the nigga was staring at me like I'm the Mona Lisa,” you said uncomfy with what he did. “Hold that thought” riri and shuri went over to the two guys.

you were on your phone as you suddenly looked up seeing two red marks on peters face.

Shuri POV

She was paying attention to her friends body language “I just find it weird that the nigga was staring at me like I'm the Mona Lisa,” said y/n shifting her body showjng she was uncomfy. almost immediantly the two girls looked at eachother nodding oou im gonna beat this dough boy colored bitches ass. shuri thought " hold that thought" she said as she moved off the wall going over to Peter and ned, they wanted nothing with ned he was cool for now.

"What the fuck is your problem," Riri said staring up at Peter. She didn't care at all about the height difference in height, after all the bigger they are the harder they fall. Riri put her finger in the middle of his chest roughly pressing it against the middle as if it was a knife. “So you just gon’ creep my friend out and stare at her? We know the shit you're trying to pull Peter and stop digging for shit you shouldn't even know” said shuri spitting venom at the male before giving him a big smack to the face

“Hey man in sorry for him, he was j-” ned tried to defend his friend but Riri interrupted him "Shut the fuck up ned, this dont involve you" she stared at him as if the poor boy committed an act of murder to her friend. "if you wanna keep ya girl mj, even if that bitch is yours, leave Y/n alone" said Shuri walking away with Riri.

"does she even know why shes not at that school anymore? or about the shit both of your familys do huh?" Peter said as he was trying to anger Shuri and Riri more. “Its none of her buisness” said shuri as they kept walking .

“What does he-”dont worry about it” Shuri interrupted as they continued walking, Y/n looked at them before catching up to the others

LATER

Y/n pov

you sat on the bleachers watching the two play basketball for gym class recording it to watch later on my camera, when the bell rang shuri lifed her shirt whiping her sweat off, her sports bra and v line showing, along with the lovebites and kisses from lastnight on her body. you stopped filming putting the camera in your purse staring at her body.

"you like her ? " a voice said to her causing her to jump, her purse being sent all the way to shuri from her jumping so much . you turned around looking at the pretty girl beside of you "kiana" she said to you, her name so you nodded saying yours "Y/n" you said smiling to her. Her entourage was behind her watching the two of her “oou shes pretty... Is that Shuri's girlfriend?” said one of the girls “Thats Mariana, ignore her” you nodded “so what was your question” you adjusted yourself looking at Kiana, you weren't scared of her and you knew what she was trying to do. “a statement actually, You shouldn't like shuri, shes like of dem playgirls” she looked at your hickeys and kisses shuri left on you. You nodded getting up “mmh. Kiana rii? Yeah. Just because you were one of her hoes or rejected by her, dont mean you get you and ur friends to scare me away from my childhood bestie, i know her more then you ever would” you declared showing no form of emotion, Riri and Shuri called for you as they came out the lockerooms.

“It's ‘ight, she doesn't like fat bitches ‘nyway,” said Mariana, causing you to turn around and stare “ that's crazy becausee... She didnt say that last night. “ you shrugged it off walking past your bag, and giving shuri a little kiss on the lips, you dont know what fueled you but you did it anyways.

“What's with the sudden kiss?” shuri stared then looked up to see Kiana and Mariana then back to y/n who bent down to pick her bag up causing her to stare.

“Mmh y/n..” she stared for the longest time before smacking it, loud enough for the gym to hear. You flinched turning to shuri with a face red as a tomato. “Payback” she’d say smiling, Mariana and Kiana walked over to shuri putting their arms around her.

“Hey, baby. Why are you fucking around with someone like her I thought you liked us” Mariana said her acrylics Circling them on her chest. Shuri smiled at her getting lost in the momment " you know its not like that ma im up for anyone i can do what i want, nobody gon' hold me down anytime soon." she used the same nickname and voice she used for you. "shuri." said riri and kiana hushed her.

you had a “ did this bitch really just...” face on offended at how your two faced friend was acting"Nah Riri let's go. let shuri fuck around with her hoes like she always does" Youd say leaving and not waiting for riri, the bell rang for lunch, you were hurt bad.

Riri POV

" you said you wouldnt play her Shuri, i knew you were a damn lie" Riri said spitting venom at her as she got her bag leaving " like you said her soft ass wasnt gonna last here" Riri turned around staring up at shuri. "yknow what.." she clocked both of the thots on shuris dead in the nose. " fuck you and your thots, you know i dont fuck with this playgirl shit" she said leaving.

Riri saw the girls go the same way y/n went as she looked both at Kiana and Mariana "oou im sick of yall." she ran after them following them to the bathroom

Shuri looked at the two , realising what she did and said was wrong, "fuck." she sighed movinf past them and going to the lunchroom to get Erik.

Riri on the other hand came in the bathroom seeing the other 4 girls bang on the stall Y/n was in . she heard her crying and hyperventilating, she was havinqg "either yall gon' get the fuck out or im airing this bitch out right now." Riri reached for under her shirt, the girls stopped running out as she sighed, sitting by the stall

"Hey Y/n you 'ight ?" she leaned against the stall listening to her cry." Shuri probably didnt mean it, she was lo- " she got interrupted by the sounds of her throwing up and the toilet flushing. soon y/n came out, sitting on the counter in the bathroom.

" im Fine, i know sex doesnt mean you love them its whatever, we were drunk" y/n said i saw her try to keep a straight face, but she failed crying her eyes out again, her makeup was ruined, you signed hugging her, she burried her head into riri's shoulder as she patted and rubbed y/n's back to soothe her. "lets get you prettied up again yeah?" said Riri as she used makeup wipes from her gym bags cleaning y/n's face. "you know how to do make up?" Y/n sniffled asking you. "girl hell yeah i do? ion got lucious lashes like you do but shiit i got the falsies that look like yours. I wish i had your features" Riri said with a smile, doing y/n's makeup for her.

"Why'd you say that? youre so pretty and strong Ri, and you stand up for your friends ." She smiled. wow shes so pretty, why does she play games with shuri.. id deffinently treat her right. Riri shook her head as she didnt know why she had these thoughts, she wasnt going to act on it either, shes not that kind of person. "thanks." she smiled

Y/n pov

She was so nice to me and i dont know why, Riri turned my face to the mirror, i smiled seeing my new makeup i hopped down giving her a kiss on her head hugging her . " thank you so much Ri!"

Erik, T'challa and Shuri came busting in and we both sighed turning to them. "what the hell happened in here?" T'challa said , Shuri looked at you hoping you returned contact, still hurt by what you said you didnt look at her. your focus was on T'Challa, " nothing. it isnt important " you said turning back to them going back to talking yo Riri.

Erik came over putting his hand on your shoulder, thinking its shuri's you smack it off turning around " the fuck do you want?? didnt you already do en- you turned to eriks face staring you dead in the eyes. " Were serious y/n. what the fuck happened." He said trying to intimidate the answers out of you, well not trying you already are.

"If i said its nothing then its nothing micheal! im sure you know because the captain of hoes over there already ran her mouth. instead of fucking helping me from her sillicone dick crazed hoes." you screamed starting to go off because you were getting overstimulated. "i dont need a damn knight right now because i got fucked over five minutes ago just because one of Shuri's crazy ass fans" you pushed past them leaving , you decided to hide in the darker part of the schools library.

The lights were busted here, you curled up into a ball sighing, your eyes felt heavy, and behan to close, eventually closing for a good time.

you got woken up by someone moving your head to their lap, you open your eyes trying to see who it was shuri. you were too tired to argue so you just sat up sighing.

"what time is it," you asked her as she looked at you, she had a look you saw the look on her face that you never saw throughout the 13 years you knew her. "its 4th period, almost over but why the hell are you hiding here." said shuri looking at me with a cigarette in her mouth.

“Number one.” you said as you took the cigarette from her mouth. Stomping on it, "two if you wanna talk to me do it respectfully" you straddled her lap looking her in the eyes you got close to her almost close enough to kiss her " you can speak now, and dont use nicknames" you said crossing your arms.

Shuri Pov

Shuri blew the smoke away from your face fanning it before diverting her attention back to you " why are you jealous if we arent dating" i said rasing a brow trying to get the answers out of her

Y/n hesitated before huffing, her cold breath blowing on my face. " Because you make my heart race, you give me butterflies and just make me wanna do things to you.. " she got close to my lips and my heart began to race, but she pulled away, her eyes looking at me full of lust and anger. " then why dont you act on them ma." i said smirking knowing that'd set her her off.

"I said no names," Y/n said yanking my hair back and causing me to look up. "you already pissed me off acting like a player, I know damn well you arent one" she’d positioned herself to be looking down at me. “ i want you to myself shuri, im not sharing you, i want you to give in “ she said, her lips kissing mine.

her lips went to attack my neck leaving love bites, and bite marks. The arousal this woman is causing me will be the death of me, part of me wants to make her work, and another just wants her so bad, but i deffinently cant do this relationshp shit, its scary.

“How about you work for it? Yeah?” i said mocking her but Y/N absolutely didnt like that,she yanked my hair causing me to moan. “Okay okay, fuckbuddies yeah? How about tha -

“stop fucking talking.” she took my shirt off of me. She sucked and kissed my collar bone causing tiny moans to escape my mouth, her tongue swirled and flicked on my nipples, and I heard the librarian nearby. Oh fuck. Please baby don't do this right now. “Shut the fuck up then” Y/n whispered before going back to attacking my breasts, her fingers sliding to my pussy, her digits Massaging my clit in a circular motion.

god damn she was so sexy like this. I moaned in her ear causing her to bite my nipple, the pain causing my pussy to get wetter, her fingers entered my pussy fingering me nice and slow, the squelching being able to be heard.

Shuri tried to speak but got interrupted by Y/n’s thumb rubbing her clit in circular motions, She felt so good right now, Finally, y/n would let go of Shuri's hair .

Peter and neds voice was heard and that made y/n smile, “ma, no. We can continue late-” she whispered to the angered y/n pulling her pants down. She yoinked her panties down not even giving shuri a second to speak, immediately eating her pussy out. She blew cold air against Shuri's’s pretty soaked cunt, she used her tongue to explore her pretty cunny(cunt,pussy). Shuri gasped for air her hips rocking against her face riding her high.

Peter and Ned slowly got closer and closer. “Baby I'm gonna cum fuck, please me just like that I'm so proud of you” Shuri would say keeping their eye contact with y/n. “mmh cum in my mouth, please i wanna taste you “ said Y/n.

Shuri bit her lips as she squirted in Y/ns mouth,Shuri panted then moaned louder when y/n was licking her clean.

Y/n licked my thighs clean before fixing my pants and underwear, i stood up fixing it myself.

“do you forgive me?” Y/n Nodded turning to shuri “cmon were gonna be late” i said going down the stairs holding her hand.

Y/n pov

I smiled to myself, that didnt settle the jealously but i knew I did what those hoes couldn't. Pride filled my stomach as we went down the stairs facing Ned and Peter who had shocked faces on.

“well.. We were sent to look for you” said ned beginning to turn around to the entrance of the library, walking away.

Peter sighed rubbing his temples. “in a school...” he said with disappointment in his voice Shaking his head “could you two like?? Not wait to fuck at home?” he said stating the fact that we have a problem.

"you mad i got to her first peter?" said Shuri getting in his face. "see thats your problem. you assume i want her because i was staring, i was only doing so because shes pretty and i was curious" said peter looking down at shuri.

"So you hit him for no reason Shuri?" I said turning to her with an eyebrow raised. "well he made my friend uncomfy, so i fixed it Udaku style fym?" she said acting as if she didnt assault a man because he made me uncomfy. i shook my head .

"well we gotta go peter last period of the day." i said skipping on to the next class.

------

CLASS STARTS

I wrote notes down in my notebook for history, since its black history month today they were studying Marsha p. Johnson, i paid close attention the whole class.

i had sat next to erik,shuri and riri. T'challa didnt have this class anymore since he passed the test with full credit.

Erik had his glasses on since we sat far and he needed to see desperately, sometimes I’d et him copy my notes as long as he changed it up, Mariana and Kiana came in with busted noses and black eyes.

my phone dinged and in sync we all checked the gc.

i looked at riri and she whistled looking at the sky, we all laughed as the bell rang, all of us going outside to the car.

Eventually we made it home in time for my rest,i went on the steps and felt shuri turn me around giving me a deep and long kiss. evemtually i pulled away before it lead to anything else due to me being tired. "thanks ma, for coming back" she smiled smacking my ass before she left.

i smiled at her watching her till she went inside, going inside myself getting ready to sleep

----

A/N: this took long as hell to write my fingers hurt 😒. LEAVE A LIKE BELOW IF YOUD WAANT MORE

[gayhenrycreel]

i think people need to stop being so angry about people having genital preferences. its not transphobic to not want to eat cunt.

im a trans man and im only attracted to men with a dick and a flat chest (this includes trans men). i cant help it. its just how i am. its not because i don't see trans men as men or something, im just not into pussy.

stop shaming people for not being into girldick or boypussy.

ive also noticed that a lot of these people shaming others about this are also very... weird about bottom surgery. bottom surgery is just as life saving as top surgery. if you actually look on transbucket you can see that it does look real and its very rare that someone completely loses sensation after bottom surgery.

im not as familiar with vaginoplasty, but it seems that people who fear phalloplasty think that scars are hideous and that the first stage is the only stage. thats not true. scars are just a part of someones body, and phalloplasty has secondary stages, after which the neo penis looks just any other dick. stop looking at photos a few weeks after surgery, look for photos a few years post op. it takes time to heal.

people who fear metoidioplasty just think micropenises are gross. thats it. they also think bottom growth is disgusting.

weirdly, all of these people are trans. i have not seen a single cis person on this site go into trans tags and claim bottom surgery is mutilation. ive seen many trans men do it. (the terfs seem to stick to their own tags).

honestly with all the terfs around here its really fuckin weird.

they also seem to believe that there are 4 genders: men, trans men, women, and trans women. thats clearly not right.

they stereotype trans men (they call them boys regardless of age) as being white, submissive, and never wanting to transition. its very rare i see art of trans men who are not white femboys.

they do the same to trans women- sorry, "trans girlies".

interestingly, they always draw feminine women and men, but never masculine anyone. art of masculine people is always drawn by those who are in the process of transition or butch lesbians.

its the terf kool aid. they think masculinity will make them like their oppressors, so they cant imagine that anyone would ever want to be masculine in any way.

they really seem to think bears are gross too. smells like fatphobia.

theyre also weird about trans people who are... not young twinks? why do they keep drawing us in maid outfits? consistently?

and then theres the fanfics. a while ago i made a post about cis people doing this, but since then ive realized trans people do it too. a lot. i am yet to find a fanfic featuring a trans man who is not a submissive bottom. always with tits. always scrawny. always ALWAYS into having his cervix destroyed.

some trans men are like that and they deserve representation, but its the only representation i see.

also, when you look at these peoples bios, you see that they are either cis women in their 20s, or teenage trans guys.

i think they are so out of touch with real world queerness that they have come to believe the stereotypes chasers have made for us.

and thats why trans tags read like fetish tags.

also, transhet people get thrown under the bus. completely erased. i have never seen a fic depicting a straight trans man- sorry, "pussyboy". sometimes i see one saying noooo, hes bisexual. and then he gets railed by a cis man youd see in hollywood.

and why is every fic about trans people porn? do we exist outside of porn or are we just mpreg fetish fuel? yeah, a lot of its mpreg. and they react to REAL LIFE MEN getting pregnant as some kind of joke. they make suggestive comments, theyre just all sorts of weird and invasive. its gross. those are real people.

it fucking hurts to see other trans people talk about bodies like mine as if we're not real actual humans, just sexual fantasies.

i cant go into ftm tags because theres porn everywhere. and its not bots. its young trans men who think trans men are only defined by pussy.

thats not how it works. we're defined by being men. not all trans men have tits and vaginas. surgery exists. this place is crazy.

on youtube men declare that women and faggots are destroying western civilization for wanting basic autonomy.

on tumblr, everyone, except a select few who stop to think, declare that masculinity is inherently restrictive and oppressive and that testosterone is poison. which republicans on youtube also claim. the difference is that tumblrinas think cis men are included in being poisoned by testosterone.

go back to terf island and grovel at the feet of jkr like you have wet dreams about.

just because youre trans doesnt mean you cant be transphobic.

have you heard of tirfs? trans-inclusive radfems. they believe that trans women are women and must be saved from the evil men, and that trans men are men and so are rapists. terfs love them.

you need to understand that transphobia is not the defining trait of terfs. the defining trait of terfism is the belief that men are disgusting, violent, sex driven, out of control, abusive, and rapists in waiting. ive seen them say that male fetuses should be aborted by law. thats eugenics. ya know, like fascism.

because thats what it is. by my definition, fascism is the belief that certain humans are not worthy of life. terfs think men are not worthy of life, and drag trans people into it.

before you decide that trans men, or whatever fetishy term you call us, are all twinks, think. like, at all. is there a reason you think this way? do you have room in your worldview for hairy trans men? hairy feminine trans men? trans bears? trans men of colour? masculine trans men with long hair?

trans men who have surgery and T shots?

or does that seem too much like... i dunno... body horror to you?

thats how these people react to sex changes. they make comments on photos of phalloplasty scars and say it looks like a horrible burn scar. it looks painful they say. "how do you go out in public?", "why would you put yourself through that?".

if someone had a kidney transplant would you say such things about those scars?

both are life saving surgeries. treat them as such.

stop writing the same smut over and over about a woman who can only have vaginal sex and never be anything other than submissive and breedable and slap the word "cuntboy" on it. has it occurred to you that some trans men would like to read about guys like them? not a bunch of white twink clones? fucking hell, it hard to find twink clone smut where the twink even has a flat chest!

it actually makes a lot of trans guys really dysphoric to have so much attention put on the parts we're born with. not all trans guys, but a lot. honestly the lack of representation makes me feel like i have to use parts of me that i cant even look at. ive seen a lot of other guys express this feeling too.

are we not sexy if we don't have sex a certain way? not getting representation hurts. it feels very isolating. the only kind of people like me who get called sexy are called sexy for things i can not do. (seriously i am physically not able to get anything in my front hole without extreme pain. how do you think trans guys like me who are physically incapable of vaginal sex feel about boypussy fetishism?)

anal sex is a thing. do you think its too gross for your twink clone to try? almost like... its unnatural...?... its dirty...?... its... sinful?

good fuckin job, buckaroo, ya reinvented classic homophobia.

there is no form of consensual sex that is sinful. you're just anti kink! if ya think anal sex is gross wait till ya hear about fisting.

youre all "i wanna turn that femboys prostate into jelly" until you realize it in his ass. so you give that femboy a g-spot instead. it doesn't take much to realize that all holes have something gross that comes outta them, not just ya asshole. i mean, blood and earwax is pretty unpleasant too. youre fine with kissing and vomits definitely gross! (your nose is also connected to the back of your throat so if you french someone youre gonna get nasal cavity mucus on your tongue)

if you think anal sex is gross youre just an 80s homophobe.

think of of it this way: i dont wanna stick my dick in a hole that ejects a buncha blood every month anymore than you want to acknowledge that some people prefer to shove something up their asshole. both are equally gross, and neither of them are actually gross at all unless youve been told its gross your whole life.

stop deciding that (however unconsciously) trans men can only be skinny white young twinks. i have actually yet to met a trans man above the age of 20 who is skinny. the trans guys ive met irl are fat and hairy. its quite obvious that the twink thing is just a stereotype.

seriously, yous are missing out on writing smut about fat hairy men, but youre too scared of being *gasp* not perfect under white cishetpatriarchy, ergo it is incomprehensible that someone would be attracted to that let alone want to be like that.

ever since i watched Jumanji: welcome to the jungle, i have wanted to be a fat middle-aged man. i was genuinely confused that that barbie didn't like it. cant remember her name.

yous are the same people who wanna "fuck that old man" arent ya? the people who are usually grossed out when you see an old man above the age of 30? it seems like the same sorta mentality.

if a cis guy got hairy would you call him disgusting and unattractive? not that ive seen. its reserved for trans guys on T.

tldr; theres nothing wrong with having a preference for certain genitals, those people who say its wrong just think its transphobic because they think not being attracted to someone means you hate them. they just don't realize that some people get bottom surgery and that its not a bad thing. theyve been drinking the terf koolaid

[chaifootsteps]

Isn't it funny how Vivzie's interpretation of gluttony, described in Christianity as literally overeating to the point that the lower class starves (basically just generic corporate cat #47), is another one of her hourglass figure women, but the sin of greed is fat...? I feel like gluttony would have done better as that, 'fatphobia' aside, since Vivzie seems fine using Heaven and Hell which is often associated with Christianity.

I do have my own interpretation of the Gluttony ring which is still a WIP, but I took the eating and 'lord of the flies' aspect (as well as ULTRAKILL's Gluttony) to the max.

I think the first layers of Gluttony would be maybe bright and colourful similar to the show, since I would also like to include overindulgence in drugs and the like-these often bring feelings of ecstacy and joy at first.

As you go deeper, however, things begin to smell worse. The walls start to resemble rotting food and flesh, the whole place is full of flies and their respective larval forms.

As well as that, almost all of the hellborns are riddled with weird, pulsating tumours, and also look much more like flies as well as maggots. Sinners usually look more like trypophobia-inducing masses of skin, fat, and a face with a miserable expression that barely move except to eat, hardly recognizable as demons or even living at all.

There are hardly any children here, and when you see any they are often large maggots, feasting endlessly on the rotting walls.

Deeper and deeper, sinners are less so lower class addicts and overeaters, and more of them are corporate monsters, even larger than previous ones, with even more tumours and hundreds of layers of rotting, yellow fat with just as many maggots as the walls at this point. They hardly even resemble sinners anymore, but rather masses of fat that exist only to consume.

Although that might convince you that they simply ate too much in their lives on Earth, the truth is many of the corporate sinners indulged in more than just food, and stopped at nothing to consume money, treasures, anything they could. This does include overeating, but there are much darker sides to what they did.

At the center is Beelzebub. I imagine, instead of Vivzie's version (sparkledog? seriously?) this one is similar to the previous sinners, but resembles a mix of a termite queen and a fly. Although she has no set gender, I refer to her with feminine pronouns for convenience.

Her abdomen is constantly pulsating and forming offspring. She is endlessly laying eggs, which are tended to her by worker flies (i know flies don't form colonies like termites but who cares). These hatch into the same maggots as above, and then become the worker flies that tend to the eggs and Beelzebub.

Back at the top of the ring, where things are bright and bubbly, hellhounds are most prevalent and other hellborns resemble candies. They do also have bug aspects, which mostly sticks to an exoskeleton-esque outer layer, wings, and 6 legs. These hellborns also influence demons from other rings to indulge more and more, eating and drinking and everything possible, which causes them to begin to become those tumour-infested zombies from the lower layers. Demons of the Gluttony ring have more resistance to this but they are not safe either.

Some of this was made on the spot so I'm sorry for any mistakes but I've also planned this out (mostly the fleshy parts) across the span of a couple days. As well as that, I'm not an expert in demonology but I have done some amounts of reading.

I also definitely was inspired by Heaven Pierce Her's 'Guts', which also plays during the first level of Gluttony in ULTRAKILL and can be found here: https://youtu.be/0oKVuDnNX-4?si=gNVrzLxLhEcUQrGp

Oh, that's creepy as fuck and I like it a lot!

[cherryc1nnam0n]

can i please request a loki x insecure plus size reader?

Oh my gods! You read me like a book, I literally crave this all the time. I am a plus size person so I will reflect a lot on this.

Thanks for the request, remember they are open!

Beautiful | Plus Size!Reader x Loki

Summary: As a princess you live to high standards and surrounded by perfect bodies, feeling like you're not deserving of love, Loki shows you otherwise

Cw: Insecurity, fatphobia, dysmorphia, rude comments, rude mother, fluff, comfort, angst, body worship, slight innuendos, talks of sex and slight NSFW

"Princess Y/n, your mother is waiting for you in the dinning room." Your maid said as she snapped you out of your thoughts

"Oh, I'll be there shortly" You said to her with a small smile, the maid nodded and walked out of your room

You eventually stood up, ignoring the reflection on the mirror, the one that you always avoided because of your larger body and how you didn't seem to find yourself looking good in any dress you wore

"Ugh finally you appear young lady, I'm starving- don't serve her too much, she needs to cut calories" your mother said to the server, making him give you a way smaller portion

You sat down and stared at the food, the smell was amazing but you didn't want to eat, not after what your mother said

"Remember tomorrow we are traveling to Asgard, your sister has her engagement party and we have to be there, I prepared a dress for you, hopefully the corset will fit you tight" you huffed, looking down bashfully "What? It's the truth, no one will curt you if they see you like that"

At the end you didn't even eat anything, you felt too self conscious about your body and how as much as you tried, you couldn't lose weight, accepting the fate that your destiny was to die alone, fat and alone

The next day...

Travelling to Asgard was tiring enough, but listening to your perfect sister talk about her perfect fiance and his perfect physique was even more tiring, along with the horrible comments about your body from your mother was enough to make you wanna jump out the carriage

Finally at Asgard, you were taken inside the beautiful castle, it was all so elegant and magical

"Queen Rhoda, it's always a delight to have you here" Queen Frigga said to your mother, saluting her old friend as always, with a huge hug and a bright smile "Mory, good to see you again sweetie" She said to your sister, who after saying her greetings excused herself to go see Thor, of course she did "And you must be Y/n, dear you're so beautiful" you smiled at her, muttering a quick thank you at the kind queen "Let's get you to your rooms shall we? You must be exhausted"

While walking through the halls your mother and the queen were talking about the kingdoms and how things were going, you suddenly stopped walking when a male voice was heard, you peaked from behind the queen to see no other than the Dark Prince, Loki, God of Mischief himself, talking to his mother when his eyes travelled to you

"Who would this beautiful lady be, mother?"

"This is Princess Y/n, daughter of Queen Rhoda" you went to curtsey but he stopped you

"Please, no formalities, were both royalty"

You smiled at him and he had a mischievous grin on his face, something flashed in his eyes, you quickly looked away

After what seemed like an eternity of silence, your mother interrupted saying she needed to rest to you continued walking, looking back Loki was fixated on you, making you hide your body with your arms, not wanting him to look at you

The next day...

"No, no, no, suck in your stanch lady! Gosh you really don't want anyone to look at you don't you?!" Your mother snapped making the corset tighter around your figure, making tears almost fall your eyes

"I can't... Breathe..." You barely said

"Pain is beautiful my daughter, if only you were like your sister" she said before getting out of your room, leaving you feeling even worse than you did before

The night had been a torture, everyone celebrating the engagement of your sister with the future king of Asgard, your mother throwing looks at you and the dress, gods the dress was killing you, all you wanted was to rip it apart and go to your room and sleep, but no, you had to stay there receiving looks from people

And looks from someone else too, Prince Loki had been looking at you from afar, grinning at you everytime you looked his way, finally he approached you

"I must say you look exquisite tonight my lady" he said grabbing your hand, placing a kiss there

"Well, thank you my prince" you tried to retrieve your hand from his but he held it tight

"I must say the dress is beautiful but... I'd rather see it on my chambers floor" he said looking straight into your eyes, making you look away

"Prince Loki, I should go now"

"Why my dear? The night is young, so are we" he circled you, taking in your frame, quickly hugging your body you wanted to bury yourself into a hole "Don't be shy now, let me see you"

"I-I want to go..."

"Sure dear" he grabbed your hand and walked you to your mother and his mother "Mother, Queen Rhoda, if you excuse us, I would like to take Y/n to a walk around the palace"

Your mother gave you a look that you couldn't read, surprise? Amaze? Confusion? You didn't know

"Sure Prince Loki, I'm so glad you're taking a liking of my daughter, she doesn't attract many" your mother said casually, that hurt you even more

Your breath hitched and Loki heard it, smiling fakely at her he excused you both out, walking out the ballroom he spoke again

"How are you feeling princess?" You sighed, feeling like you might cry

"Awful, I want to dig a hole and cry there, I feel like a whale in a cute dress and I, you, I just-" a sob escaped your mouth, he turned to look at you, stopping your walk

"A whale? What are you talking about princess? You are beautiful" he kissed your forehead "And no one can tell you otherwise"

"But... I'm fat, greasy and no one will ever love like this" those were your mother's words towards you and your body

The truth was, she loves you yes, but since your father left for another woman, she became insecure, transmitting all that to you through the years, she was obsessed with having perfect daughters that would marry important princes and have perfect families and children

"Princess..." He brushed away your tears "You are beautiful, look at you, you are a princess, the most beautiful creature I've laid eyes on, it would be a privilege to well, court you" he brushed your hair away from your face "If you let me, I will show you a new perspective on yourself, on your body, you deserve to be loved, to be ravished, to be fucked out of your senses until you forget your name" you gasped at his words "If you let me..." You closed your eyes and nodded, he gave another kiss to your forehead "Allow me to show you what love is like, what I can do to show you that love and make you feel it, you won't regret it, and after tonight, you'll belong to me and I'll take you away from your mother and you'll be happy"

"How do you...?"

"I am a god sweetheart, can't lie to me, I see through you, your insecurity comes from your mother and has to stop, come with me princess and I'll show you how loved you are"

You smiled at him, seeing nothing but honesty in his eyes, nodding again he walked you to his chambers, were a long night of passion and love making awaited you... Along with so much love... More than you could ever imagine...