#but really do watch this movie if you can

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bucky who starts a purely platonic physical touch giving friendship with reader… until it turns into more

･ﾟ✫* 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡  ｡✭･ﾟ

It starts off so innocently. Bucky just sat really close to you one day and noticed how the touch of your shoulder on his made him tingly all over.

The same happened when your hand brushed his, or you passed close by, and he caught a whiff of your hair - something that reminds him of the feeling he now seeks out when you’re around.

It’s no secret that either of you have been single a long time with basically no prospects for a future relationship, so no one questions when you and him suddenly hang out more.

He invites you over when you ask him if he was okay, and he realized that his day was in fact crappy and that if you offered to talk to him, he’d tell you all about it.

And when you sit on the sofa listening to Bucky talk, your hand instinctively found his and before Bucky knew it, his head was pressed into your shoulder, your nails raking over his scalp releasing a feeling within him, he can only describe as heavenly.

He loves it when you comfort him, and he loves comforting you, somehow knowing that you need this part of your friendship just as much as he does.

So it becomes a regular thing: when the rest of the team returns home to their spouses after a tiring mission, you and Bucky retreat to either one of your apartments under the pretense of not wanting to be alone.

Of course, neither of you planned for it to become so touchy and intimate... no, that would be insane, right?

It’s a normal afternoon for the two of you, hanging out at your place, a movie playing on TV, Bucky’s head buried in your chest as he lays half on top of you and you with your back against the sofa. Your hand rakes over his hair as his are halfway tugged beneath your body, seeking all the warmth he can get.

The physical touch aspect of your relationship has somehow crossed the lines between friends, but neither of you care. It feels too good to be held and protected to stop.

Bucky hasn't felt the caring touch of a partner in decades and you... well, let's just say that all men before Bucky didn't feel the need to express their love through aftercare - not that Bucky is in any way shape or form about to give said aftercare... no, you are just friends. Just. Friends.

Friends who frequently hide their hands in the other's jacket when the cold catches up to them.

Friends who bury their faces in each other's chest and lap like it is the most normal thing a person can do to another.

Friends who somehow always wonder if the other feels that spark ignite whenever they hold each other close.

Bucky feels the sensation when he's practically caging you beneath his upper body of the sofa. He lifts his head as he usually does to see if maybe this time he could magically hear your thoughts.

"What's up?"

He shakes his head. "I just really enjoy this." he mumbles and blushes, and your hand suddenly stops its path along his scalp.

"Me too." you smile and look into his eyes.

normally he'd put his head back, and you'd resume watching the movie, but something is different today.

maybe it's the way his hair looks perfectly tousled by your constant motions, or maybe it's the way he slowly blinks at you like a very comfortable pet.

but you finally find the courage to kiss him.

Follow my library blog for fic updates! @espinosaurusrexex-library

[caughtthedarkness93]

Seriously!

I tear it apart because it gives me new ways to love it.

Returning to a beloved classic years later and finding a new way it speaks to you because you learned something new that lends it entirely novel context.

Talking to a friend of yours who examines things through a totally different lens. Someone who doesn't share your identity or has had different life experiences from you or something like that might pull something you never would have seen about a piece of art and completely change the way you see it.

Watching it and seeing how it's in conversation with other art that's trying to do something similar.

Working on something and being horribly stuck, and then some movie or book you're returning to or reading for the first time unlocks something in your own work that gets you past that roadblock.

Breaking down the details of what specific artistic decisions make it so good and applying those lessons to your own creative work.

There's something joyful in each of these practices, something that pulls more and more and more out of these pieces of art and makes you appreciate them more and more over time.

And yeah, sometimes that means finding something you don't like about it. But sometimes you find there's an artistic reason that makes it deeper than you thought and throws it into a new perspective, or you just...simply accept the fact that you can dislike things about something you otherwise love. No piece of art is perfect. But just because you find a flaw in something, even a glaring one, doesn't mean it's ruined. Edgar Wright's really bad at writing women a lot of the time. The female characters in his films often have little agency or development. Baby Driver has this problem too. Doesn't mean it's not a joyful film to experience that I found so relatable to my own experiences with autism. Just because a piece of art has flaws doesn't make it bad.

i find it so interesting how people act like "critically examining a piece of media" is the opposite of "enjoying that piece of media." rip to you but i actually find it really enjoyable and compelling to dissect and think through the art i engage with

[sir3n-s]

Since Eddie came to live with him, Wayne has seen him bring home many things.

Mainly bugs or hurt animals.

One time he brought home a skunk. Sometimes Wayne thinks he can still smell it.

But this? This is something else.

"Wayne I can explain" he says standing in the doorway with a jar.

A jar that has a pixie in it.

"That jar better have holes in it, Edward.'" He's praying that his nephew didn't hurt the pixie.

Pixies have been around for centuries and helping them will bring good luck. As in the pixie will most likely bring you gifts.

Hurting a pixie though?

He has heard some stories that would be labeled as horror if they were movies.

"Of course, it has holes in it!" Eddie says like it was ridiculous of him to ask, "I'm not stupid" Wayne thinks that is debatable but now is not the time for that.

"Yet you have a pixie in a jar" he sighs, wondering why this kid can't give him a break, "knowing what they are capable of."

"I know, I know!" Eddie says, looking down at the jar. "I just wanted to say hi, and then he attacked me! I didn't want to hurt him, but he wouldn't leave me alone!"

"So you thought putting it in a jar would make it like you," he says while getting up.

"Well no but I tried runng but he followed me"

He's going to need a beer after this. 

"Give me the jar," he says standing in front of his nephew. 

Eddie doesn't hesitate to hand it over. 

Wayne walks out the door of the trailer and starts opening the jar, "I apologize for my nephew, he doesn't think before he acts. He's a good kid, please don't hurt him" he takes the top off and lets the pixie fly out.

It flies in front of Wayne’s face for a moment before smiling and nodding at him, then zooms off.

Wayne walks back into the trailer to grab a beer and start lecturing his nephew.

-

Over the next few weeks, Eddie sees the pixie, who he learns name is Steve, come by the trailer to give gifts to Wayne.  

Eddie has tried to get close enough to apologize but Steve always files away the moment he sees Eddie. 

But he also doesn't do anything to Eddie so he guesses that Steve likes Wayne enough to leave his nephew alone. 

Which is good because pixies can be terrifying. 

"Give him some fruit," Wayne suggests after hearing Eddie complain about Steve leaving once he saw Eddie pull up to the trailer. "He really likes peaches." 

So Eddie cuts up a peach and puts it on a plate. He takes it outside to the bench close by and waits. 

Steve does eventually show up but Eddie can tell he's still cautious of him because he doesn't immediately go for the peach like he would if Wayne was the one offering it.

Eddie smiles at him and pushes the plate towards him hoping to encourage him to eat it.

Steve must have decided to trust Eddie because he dives for the peach slices.

He watches Steve eat a really small amount of the the peach, but pixies are so small it was probably a lot to him.

Once it seems like Steve had his fill of the fruit Eddie sets a napkin down next to the plate.

Steve wipes his hands and face with it. Then he just sits there and stares at Eddie for a moment.

"Thank you" the pixie says. And honestly Eddie is surprised, he didn't know they could communicate with humans.

"You're welcome" he responds, tapping his finger on the table, "I am sorry about the jar thing, I really didn't mean to hurt you"

Steve reached for Eddie's hand and placed his tiny hand on top of his finger, stopping its movement.

"Its okay" Steve smiles at him.

[thatonebirdwrites]

Gosh, I can relate to this.

I think about what fandom is a lot since I sort of lurk in a lot of spaces (until I feel brave enough to speak or share).

First off, the point of this addition isn't to guilt trip anyone, but to get people thinking about what community means. What inclusion means, and what engagement means. And how those are interconnected.

One of the crucial pillars of fandom, and the reason fandom exists at all is because of community.

Writing fanfiction and sharing it for free is about building community with one another. It's people who loved a show/movie/book enough that they wanted to play in the world longer, so they play together in that world with other people who love it too. That's what fanworks are -- it's people playing together in community because of a love toward a specific series/media.

But community requires communication. It requires building connections. It requries engaging one another.

I write long fics. In fact, adding up the word counts of my fics in AO3? It's well over a million words in two different fandoms. These are free novels written because the community had been welcoming at first and it had encouraged me to keep going.

But I made a mistake. Two of these projects (in two separate fandoms) I made into a series. Because of how each part in a series means the sequel gets less engagement, it feels like I'm watching a community dissolve, and that's painful. I don't get paid for this. It's all free, and part of the reason I went to fanfic writing was because of community.

Lack of engagement gives, often unintentionally, the author the message that they aren't really part of the fandom's community. At least not anymore (if they ever were).

Some say, "Well, don't write for your readers!"

Well, no, I don't write for my readers, but the act of sharing for free is me giving to the community and building up community.

But part of building up community requires people to give back in turn. Oherwise the community will fracture and fall apart.

The reason fandom exists at all is because of community.

It's the community part of fandom that has helped me to heal enough to write again, but when that community dries up or no longer engages with me, then what am I to do? I've lost that community, and if I continue to engage with it and get very little (if not nothing) in return, then at that point, I'm throwing my energy into a void in hopes for a scrap of community.

It ceases to fulfill the need. It leaves me feeling lost and alone. And finding out later how much people loved a fic I wrote but that fic received very little engagement? It tells me that I'm not loved as a person within the community.

I have watched and listen to people talk about how much it hurts when the work they put in so much effort in for the community gets little to no engagement. It often pushes them to engage less, to stop writing, and watching that happen? It hurts to see.

Community requires communication. Do not treat an fanfic author like a kiosk, where you grab the story and run. Treat them like they are part of your community. By doing so, by including them, you bolster their sense of belonging and are more likely to get stories in return.

Community needs to be reciprocal. And I fear fandoms are losing that understanding of what community is. They expect and sometimes demand more, but what are they doing to support that fanfic writer or artist? Are they engaging them and uplifting them within the community? Or are they not engaging them?

If you read an author's work and love it, include them in that community by sharing your thoughts in a comment. You don't necessarily have to comment on every chapter of a longer work (Though it is so lovely some do), but to at least offer up comments here and there to be inclusive of that author.

Engagement bolsters the community bond.

The lack of engagement breaks the community bond.

And that's a sort of grief. Us writers came for community and to share our love of the fandom with others. When we fail to be included in that community, it will hurt. It's a type of rejection that people may not even realize they are doing.

Community requires communication, and for fandoms, part of that communication is comments, kudos, (and gosh, even tumblr asks).

I hope that helps give people another perspective to consider.

Think it over. Think about what you'd like to give back to the creators in your community.

And please understand, if you can only give back one or so comments? That's okay and valid, and that too builds up community.

Even little actions matter.

Never think your small action doesn't matter or that your comment or kudos doesn't matter. It does. It helps build community too.

Thanks for reading. Be safe.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[absolutebl]

Of My 50+ Favorite BLs these are the 10 I rewatch the most

So you could call these my favorite comfort foods. Everything on this list got a rating of 10/10 or 9/10 from me.

10 Most Comforting BLs

(for me, in order of most recently rewatched at the top)

Our Dating Sim

Korea 2023 Viki (watch the series not the movie)

This is a perfect short form KBL, an office set reunion romance featuring geeks that really suits 8 eps with no fluff and no chaff. Just comforting and yummy. I adored every aspect from the casting to the pristinely simple premise to the quietly smooth execution. Sure it’s low stakes, but that makes it high domesticity and extremely warm and gentle. This is a fuzzy blanket of a story - a cozy BL. It lives in my rewatch pile and you know what’s best about it? Every single episode is in that pile. There’s no skipping with this one, it might be good natured and calmly sweet but it’s tight and the pacing is excellent.

Cosmetic Playlover

Japan 2024 Gaga

The most recent release on this list, it came out this year and I've already rewatched it 5x. I love this little show. It's a classic office BL about the older workaholic who loves his job and the younger upstart who unexpectedly loves his boss. It’s a hyung romance where everybody is extremely earnest and sweet and pretty about everything. Except our seme, who is slightly unhinged and a little obsessed in all the ways one likes best from Japan (if one is me). Plus the kisses are good! Utterly charming unexpected gem of a show. What fun!

Jun and Jun

Korea 2023 Viki

A delightful office romance about an ex-idol who joins cubical life only to find his new boss is his first love. Other boys are sniffing around too. Operative word being "sniffing" as much of this romance involves smell. With a snappy (sometimes even raunchy) script, enjoyable sides, a pretty as peaches cast, and decent chemistry this show made up for in style what it lacked in substance. I like fluff. I loved this. I smiled every moment I was watching. My only caution is this is for fans of the BL genre only, I don’t think it’ll work for anyone else.

My Personal Weatherman

AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan 2023 Gaga

This style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but are so repressed they don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that aspect is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan. That said it's also bruisingly romantic. Emphasis on bruise.

Unintentional Love Story

Korea 2023 iQIYI

OMG the plot! Uke forced into a totally understandable betrayal, falling in love despite himself, put into a corner he can't get out of, the AGONY, the PAIN in those gorgeous eyes. Gah. Okay, so: A boy loses his job due to trumped-up corruption charges accidentally discovers his ex-boss's favorite artist, now a recluse. Evil manager offers him his job back, if he can convince the artist to rejoin society. Instead, they fall in love. I found the artist a bit stiff and reserved but Gongchan (maknae of B1A4) is a fucking GIFT - he carried this show (which I do not expect from the idol element). He was luminous with extraordinarily expressive eyes, just drown in the emoting abyss. The external conflict, social tension and pressure is complex and beautifully executed, plus Korea gave us legit side dishes (NOT a love triangle, hally-fucking-luya). All that said, when I rewatch this it's usually just the second half, but WHAT a ride.

Semantic Error

Korea 2022 Viki

Sexy older boy discovers pouty younger boy has outed him as a slacker, starts out bullying him, accidentally falls madly in love instead. Korea hits it entirely out of the Parks by doing a university BL with everything we expect from BL just done exactly right. Korea's signature quality executed perfectly with added bonus good story, great pacing, stunning visuals, and fantastic chemistry. You cannot ask for more from a BL, let alone a KBL. Another one where the rewatch is mostly just the second half.

Old Fashion Cupcake

Japan 2022

This show had me from the moment they broke the egg yolk with the chopsticks in the opening credits. It’s about a younger man with a long cherished crush on his boss (ten years older and going through a mid life crisis) who decides to save and seduce said boss with pancakes. It’s wholesome, comforting, sexy, and a very necessary narrative about still having hope, interests, and openness to affection at any age. It’s a stunningly filmed late-in-life comg of age/queerness story packaged in a subtle critique of expectations around masculinity, love, and loneliness… and it’s beautiful.

Yes yes. But the bit you know you want to rewatch is that long shot with the bite kiss. YOU KNOW you wanna.

Seven Days

Japan 2015

Ha! I faked you out 'cause this wasn't at the top but of course it's on the list! One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). Older boy dares the hot af younger one to date him for a week. Turns out they both like it... A lot. The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

Takara & Amagi

Japan 2022

I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this show, but a rewatch is way less tense. Reserved cool kid must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charming: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning.

We Best Love

Taiwan 2021 WeTV

WBL successfully managed to pick up and combine the best features of Korean, Thai, and Japanese BL as it exists right now. Couple that to the insane chemistry from the leads, and we have one of the greatest BLs of all time, cooking to a recipe I doubt anyone else will ever be able to replicate since only Taiwan is this flexible. It's basically every classic BL trope bombarded at us in two parts, rapid fire, one after another. Rewatching this show reminds me of everything I love about this genre. It is the genre in pure concentrated form.

The End!

I think it's no accident that none of these are Thai, part of a rewatch for me is the brevity of the show, longer stuff does get rewatched, but not as frequently.

(source)

[curtins]

going to a cafe with the jujutsu kaisen men a/n: (based on irl experience with a wide variety of subpar men) 😭 gojo's order being my order...aurkay!

gojo — def the type to walk in and push his sunglasses down to check out the place. his order def goes something like a venti caramel macchiato with almond milk, two pumps of vanilla and two pumps of hazelnut, and a little caramel swirl at the top. smiles and is friendly to all the baristas, he's never rude to workers. tells the barista is gojo, with an o. whoever's unfortunate enough to be stuck next to him is doomed to hear him wax poetic about how coffee beans are the soul of the earth, and its 'really deep, you wouldn't get it lol'. if you order a black coffee, he'll ask if everything is okay at home. can't leave the cafe without ordering a $8.00 sweet treat and then wondering why all his purchases are adding up

geto — walks in as if he's a regular and tells the barista that he'll have his 'regular'. the barista has never seen him before. probably orders a flat white, double shot of espresso, no foam. he always says he doesn't have to pretend to like foam because he's chill like that. he'll ask for the wifi password, but only so he can show off how good he is at working in a cafe, but his ass is on coolmathsgames. will nod and pretend to care about whatever you're saying but he's still thinking about coolmathsgames. will also drop random metaphors like 'life is just like coffee. you either take it strong or with sugar.' you tell him to save the bad metaphors for his cult.

nanami — doesn't wander or hesitate when he enters the cafe. checks his watch every five minute. orders a black coffe, medium, and adds one packet of sugar. he's pretty good at ordering what he wants efficiently, and it leaves even the barista worried. he's here to relax so don't ask him any unnecessary question because this man needs a break. actually enjoys eavesdropping on people's conversations, and ends up tilting his angle to snoop on gossip better. avoids small talk like its another curse. you can't really make him react too much in a cafe, unless you spill coffee on his freshly pressed suit. will be passive aggressive and suggest that the cafe chooses better music. likes a good, dependable pastry. apple danishes are a favourite.

sukuna — prefers tea, without debate. but still orders relatively normal things. likes a good latte with chocolate syrup. but the king of curses kinda has to look cool, so he powers his way through a black coffee, with no sugar or milk. you swear his eyes are tearing up as he pretends to like it. after every sip of coffee, he sighs really loudly and it gets a bit annoying. even after you ask what's wrong, he says its nothing and continues to sigh loudly. nanami may be the one who eavesdrops, but sukuna is the one who interferes. will turn around in his chair to give unsolicited advice, but he genuinely thinks he's being helpful by telling schoolgirls to buy cleavers to chop their friends' hands off. is mildly offended when they move tables and give him weird looks. passes loud comments on other people and tells couples when he thinks they will breakup. attempts to connect to the wifi three times before threatening to burn the router.

toji — the barista asks if he wants a pastry with his drink and he asks 'do i look like the type of man to eat a muffin?' but if they're free, he'll take two. sits with his back to the wall like he's in a mob movie. god help anyone who sits too close to him, he really just doesn't trust anyone in his personal space. doesn't even acknowledge the existence of others until he's had at least three sips of his coffee. you could tell him his house is on fire, and he’d just mutter that he can't do anything about it now. types the wifi password on his phone with one finger like a caveman. tells parents to 'control their spawn' but entertains kids with coin tricks when no-one is looking. sometimes struggles to fit the lid on his go-to cup, and refuses to asks for help. wrestles with it for five minutes, getting increasingly annoyed before rushing out the door.

choso (this one is dedicated to pookie @creamflix) — frowns at the menu like it's written in an ancient language, like wtf is affogato. if someone behinds him coughs, he scolds them and says he's going as fast as he cans. spends 10 minutes deciding and then panics at the last second, tells the barista to give him whatever. if the barista asks any follow up questions (like milk preferences) he genuinely short circuits, "what kinds of milk are there?" he's genuinely baffled that there are options beyond 'cow.' he'll point at a pastry and ask what's in it. the barista explains and he replies with 'okay i trust you.' always ends up picking a wobbly table by accident and spends 15 minutes trying to fix it with folded napkins. if someone asks to share his table, he'll look like they just asked for his kidneys. if someone asks for his opinion on his pastry, its always a dumbass cryptic answer like 'its interesting.' uses his phone on full brightness and everyone can see him look up 'how to pronounce cafe au lait.' cleans up after himself because he's nice like that. if the staff get his order wrong, he never says anything even if it tastes like dirt.

[tthoroughfare]

crush (part 2) // abby anderson

*･゜ﾟ･* summary: i owe you a black eye and two kisses. tell me when you wanna come and get 'em. abby finally confronts her feelings in the spur of the moment, then gets scared and runs away. it all works out in the end, though.

*･゜ﾟ･* pairing: canon!abby x reader

*･゜ﾟ･* content: nsfw. nothing too crazy just some yearny sesbian lex using hands. light injury description and abby being a horrible communicator

*･゜ﾟ･* length: 2.9k

this is part two of this series! find part one here

i hope you enjoy the second part! i'm so down to write more of this so lmk if anyone wants it

abby keeps it all to herself. she enjoys having you as a friend, and reasons that it’s better not to mess it all up. just because you like her whole entire gender doesn’t mean you like her. plus, she’s not even sure about what she’s feeling. figures that if she actually wasn’t straight, she’d surely have already known by now. but then again, she didn’t know you back then. didn’t feel what she feels around you.

then, one night, you’ve been around at hers, drinking and watching a movie with manny. she’d accidentally overindulged, possibly (definitely) out of nerves. you’d had to drag the chair and beanbag over in front of the TV, you and abby both piling onto the beanbag, chair not big enough to hold the two of you.

there was still barely enough room, and you were pressed up against her. at first, you were awkwardly perched, body rigid; but then, as the film went on and you had a little more to drink, you found yourself sinking into the seat, further into her.

by the end of it, your head is comfortably on her shoulder, laughing and chatting freely — she can smell your hair, feel the heat of your body against her, and she truly thinks she might combust.

once it’s gotten late, you say you’d better be heading back to your own place. abby tipsily insists on walking you back, even though it’s really not necessary. like, at all.

you jovially chat and giggle on the way back through the stadium, and all you can remember thinking is how glad you are that you met her. how rare it is for you to know someone who you feel so connected to, who everything feels so easy with almost instantaneously.

when you get to your door, she lingers around, keeping the conversation going even after you say goodnight — like she wants something from you, wants to say something but can’t. there’s a moment where it drops quiet, and she’s just looking at you. studying your face, maintaining eye contact for probably longer than she ever has. that’s when you realize she’s automatically drifted closer.

and then, liquid courage coursing through her veins and affirmed by you leaning on her earlier, she kisses you.

it’s quick, and you don’t return it. not because you don’t want to, but out of pure shock — never in a million years would you have seen it coming. you’d fully shelved your crush on her, under the impression it was never going to happen.

before you have a real chance to react, she pulls back, cheeks tinged red.

you speak at the same time: her blurting out, "sorry, fuck"; you simply shaking your head a little, stuttering, “a-abby, i…”

a beat passes, you slightly open-mouthed, abby’s hands anxiously fiddling with themselves at her sides. immediately, she’s sober. “fuck, i-i’m sorry. that was stupid.”

“no, abby, it’s just—“ before you can finish your sentence, she mutters something inaudible and turns, beginning to stride off down the hall, feeling like a fucking idiot. of course you didn’t like her, and she’d just drunkenly ruined it all for nothing.

your call of her name, followed by a, ‘wait!’ falls on deaf ears, and she turns the corner, gone. you’re left stunned, frozen outside your door, trying to process what just happened.

you want to go after her, have her allow you to explain yourself, but decide against it. you don’t know if she really meant it, you don’t know what her reasons were for running off; you don’t know what the fuck to do. so, despite every ounce of yourself begging you not to, you simply go inside and try your best to sleep. you can’t, though, mind whirring for hours on end until you finally pass out.

the next morning, you pray you run into her. usually, you always saw her at some point, but it was like she was avoiding everywhere you might be.

you see manny in the canteen later in the day, catching up to him and asking him where she is; he just shrugs, saying that she’d picked up an extra assignment and headed out that morning. might not be back for a day or two.

you can’t help but let out an exasperated sigh, crossing your arms. you knew it was on purpose. all over a kiss. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he gives you a funny look. “you two have a fight or something? she was… quiet when she came back.”

rolling your eyes, you shake your head after a moment. basically the opposite. “no… no, we didn’t.”

“right.” he quirks an eyebrow slightly, taking a breath. “you want me to talk to her when i see her?”

you shake your head vehemently, furrowing your brow. “nah, nah, don’t. just… let me know when she gets back, please?”

he nods once, tapping the side of your arm. “you got it.”

you utter out a thanks, and with that you’re off.

you don’t want to be mad at her, but you are. you don’t know why she’s running away from you, quite literally putting her life on the line just so she doesn’t have to face you. what makes it so much worse is she didn’t even give you a chance. if she’d have just heard you out instead of storming off, there wouldn’t even be an issue in the first place.

the next morning arrives, and abby’s still not back. the whole day, you fight the urge to walk over to her apartment and knock on the door every five minutes. you know manny said a day or two, but you can’t help but anxiously await her return the moment it’s plausible.

you try to keep yourself busy with work, but all your mind does is wander back to her. thinking about what she’s doing, if she’s okay, what you’re going to say to her when she gets back. you replay the kiss over and over in your head, scrutinizing every millisecond of it. what if the reason she freaked out was that she only did it because she was drunk, immediately realized she regretted it, and that’s why she’s avoiding you?

her absence just gives you too much time to worry, conjure up every worst case scenario. by the end of it, you’re essentially convinced she doesn’t like you, that it was a mistake, and now your friendship will never be the same.

finally, around noon the day after, manny collars you in the hallway and lets you know abby’s back. you let out a half relieved, half nervous sigh, nodding and thanking him. you can’t go talk to her right away — you’re too swamped with work, on your way back from the shortest lunch break known to man, but you know the second you’ve called it a day, you’re finding her.

it’s not until almost eight that you finally get to a place where you can break off, leaning back in your chair and running your hands over your face. you pack a few items away hurriedly, heart beating in your chest as you make your way over to abby’s.

it’s not her who answers the door, though — it’s manny. you blow air out of your nose at the fact you’re seeing more of him than her at this point.

“where is she?” you question gently, as if he doesn’t already know what you want.

the corners of his mouth quirk. “guess.”

“library?”

he clicks his tongue in affirmation, and you roll your eyes fondly before telling him you’ll see him later, turning to make your way down there.

standing outside the door, you realize how nervous you are. you’ve wanted nothing more than to see abby since it happened, but now the moment’s here you can’t help but feel hesitant about all the ways the conversation could go.

after a beat of psyching yourself up, you gingerly crack the door open, spotting her on the ottoman before gently wrapping your knuckles as you peer in. “knock, knock.”

she looks up, an unreadable expression on her face.

“can i come in?”

she pauses, sitting up properly and placing her book to the side. “uh… sure.”

you smile gratefully, picking your way in and softly closing the door behind you. you make your way over, taking a seat next to her with your hands folded in your lap, avoiding eye contact. “so…”

you can see her fiddling with the sleeve of her shirt in your peripheral vision. “so…?”

looking up at her, you go to say your rehearsed spiel, then the words get caught in your throat when you notice the injuries littering her face. a couple of gashes are set into her forehead and chin, purple blossoming over her cheekbone.

“what the hell have you done to your face?” it comes out a little more frustrated than the caring tone you intend, but you are frustrated. if she’d have stayed and listened, she wouldn’t have been avoiding you, and in turn wouldn’t have gone off and gotten herself hurt. you pivot your body to face her side, knee bending to rest your left leg sideways.

“it’s not anything.”

you tut, unable to help yourself from reaching out and running your thumb tenderly over the bruising. she pulls away from your touch slightly, to which you shoot her a look. “worse than i ever get.”

“you’re sheltered.”

she says it matter-of-fact, and you know it’s true. you’ve always had it better than her, better than most, never really being required to go into the field. both your parents are still alive, a rarity nowadays, both academics. the last time you were in real danger was simply when you were being moved into the base, going from safe point A to safe point B. 

still, it stings a little.

“yeowch,” you respond as you allow your hand to drop from her skin, only half joking. “there’s no need to be mean, abby.”

she rolls her eyes, still keeping her sight trained firmly ahead. “i’m not being…” she trails off, shaking her head a little and looking down at her hands. she moves to lean forward, forearms resting on her knees.

a pause passes that feels like an eternity, until you finally will yourself to speak. your voice is soft, low. “why did you run off on me the other night?”

she gnaws at her lip, not saying anything for a moment. “can we just forget about that? it was…”

“a mistake, i know. you were… you’d had a few drinks. i know you didn’t mean anything by it.” you finish her sentence for her, and she sighs and shakes her head in annoyance at how wrong you have it.

she swallows thickly in defeat, urging the words to come. she might as well tell you; she’s already basically fucked everything up. what does she have to lose?

“that’s… not it.” her words come out quiet, and she looks at you for the first time since you walked in, hands wringing in her lap.

you automatically shuffle a tiny bit closer, her leg warm against yours. “then what is it?”

“i didn’t… it wasn’t… because i was drunk. it was because i wanted to.” she takes a deep breath, shoulders sinking. “and then… you reacted all… i don’t know. anyway… you don’t see me like that. can we just move on?”

you look at her, mouth opening and closing a little. your brow furrows. “oh my god. are you serious?”

“what?” she replies, a little defensively.

“i reacted like that because i was fucking shocked. as far as i was aware, you didn’t even like girls, never mind me, and then you just kissed me out of nowhere. i didn’t know how to react. and then, you didn’t even give me chance to say anything and just walked off, and then i don’t see you for two days,” you blurt out, floodgates opened.

it’s her turn to be speechless again, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. “so… w-what are you saying?”

you don’t even bother to answer, knowing you can show her tenfold better than you can tell. you pull her up to you, hand resting on her jaw, pressing your lips to hers with a gentle urgency. she freezes for a split second before kissing back, one hand leaning on the ottoman behind you, the other coming up to cup your cheek.

you shift further in subconsciously, right leg going over one of hers and your free arm wrapping around her neck.

“jesus christ, abby,” you mumble against her lips between adoring smooches, “i can’t believe you.”

she breathes out a chuckle. “sorry.”

you have sex for the first time that night. you invite her to stay over, not even having those expectations. you just want to be with her, want to feel close to her, wake up side by side.

but then it drops late, and your lights are on low, having spent the evening conversing on your bed with the tv droning in the background. you’re both on your sides facing each other, propped up by an elbow. and you look so pretty in the dim yellow light, she can’t help herself from leaning in and kissing you, dripping with want.

you end up on top of her, fingertips stroking over either side of her face, hers pressing into your hips. all you can hear is your own pulse banging in your head, the labored, rapid breaths the two of you let out into each other’s mouths.

you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything this much. you can feel yourself soaking your underwear, and nothing’s even happened.

abby swallows thickly, pulling back for a moment, knowing where this is all going. “you know i’ve never…” she trails off, implicating the last few words, voice husked with arousal.

you pause to look at her, lidded eyes dragging over her face, a slightly amused smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

“i know,” you respond, leaning back in to mouth at the corner of hers, before kissing down to her jaw. you continue to speak against her skin, voice low. “you’ll figure it out.”

and she sure does.

you make love to each other. it’s all slow, and testing, but wanting and desperate. a lot of abby asking every two minutes if what she’s doing feels good, you guiding her and showing her how you like it. when you first flip her on top of you, tenderly taking her hair out from its braid and running your fingers through it, leading her hand under your waistband and showing her how wet you’ve gotten for her, she truly doesn’t know how the fuck she was ever, ever uncertain about her feelings.

you take your shirt off, baring yourself to her, then hers, needing to feel your skin flush against one another. her hands automatically move to make quick work of the lower half of your clothing, gaining confidence. and then you’re naked, spread out underneath her, all flushed and open mouthed, hips shifting into hers desperately — and it’s just like something takes over her.

she kisses over your chest languidly, exploring, needing to taste your skin. you gently take her wrist, moving her hand back between your legs, and your head falls back when she runs a finger through your folds. it’s a little clumsy, a little anxious, but abby’s a quick learner. she finds a rhythm, circling your clit as her mouth attaches to your nipple.

“abby, fuck…” you moan shakily, one hand tightening around her wrist, keeping her where it feels good, the other gripping lightly at her hair.

“is that okay?” she asks. she’s looking up at you reverently, desperate to impress, and the sight sends even more heat pooling in your lower belly.

you nod hungrily and your hand moves from her wrist to her waistband, voice coming out a lot more needy than you intend. “take these off.”

she obeys you without a word, and your free hand immediately goes to touch her, spreading her apart and toying with her clit, reveling in the noises it draws.

you make each other cum like that, touching each other at the same time, all needy and yearning. you’re first, abby’s nerves getting the best of her, you unable to help yourself. it all builds and builds until it hits you hard, breathy, high pitched moans and whines of her name tumbling out against her shoulder. hearing you, seeing you like that sends her absolutely reeling, and it’s not long until she’s there too. you pull her face level to yours with your free hand, threading your fingers through her hair, needing to look at her as she cums.

she looks so pretty, eyes screwed shut and brows drawn, parted lips rosy as she pants her way through her orgasm, unable to help the string of mmphs and low, strangled moans that escape her.

you work her through it, slowing your movements gradually, stroking at her face as she comes down. it’s quiet for a moment, just the sounds of the forgotten movie across the room and both of you attempting to regain your breathing.

“okay?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

she nods, eyes still closed, tongue darting out to wet her lips. then, her mouth twitches, corners forming a small smile. “yeah. fuck.”

you mirror her, a tiny smile of your own tugging at your lips. “good.”

kissing her nose lightly, you shift your hand away from her pussy and pop your messy fingers in your mouth, cleaning her off you, relishing in her taste.

she watches through hazy eyes, committing the sight to memory.

yeah. she’s never looking back.

[hyliagirl42]

Not to get all preachy here but i think this could stem from the really harmful media analysis we're taught in school, which often has us answer questions like "if you were the protagonist in this situation, what would you do?"

And something i read in a post elsewhere really stood out to me, in response to that question - what does it matter what *I* would do? And what I would do is entirely dependent on whether I only have the lived experiences and memories of the protagonist, or if I only havr my own, as the reader.

Because if i only had the protagonist's experiences and memories, I wouldn't know I'm a character in a book (or horror movie). I wouldn't know what genre I'm in. I wouldn't know that this camping trip in the woods with my friends is going to end with all of us dying. It's just a camping trip. And we're teenagers having fun, being silly, and how were we supposed to know the evil tome had a real genuine curse on it? If this is the case, asking what I would do doesnt matter, because my lived experiences speak to what choices I'm going to make, and as such none of the choices I make will be different.

But if I have only my own memories as the reader to make my decision with, that's also a useless question to ask. I know things as the reader that the character never could. Like I mentioned before, I know that this is the horror genre and people are going to die. So obviously I can sit back and think of all the perfect ways to win, the perfect flawless ways of surviving. But that wouldn't be very satisfying, narratively, would it? There's no plot without struggle and hardship. There's nothing satisfying about winning too easily. That's not the story the author wants to tell, especially in horror stories.

But all we're ever taught in school is "what did the character do wrong? How would you do it better?" Instead of the actually meaningful questions such as "what message was the author trying to convey? How can this message apply to your life? Is this message even aimed at you in the first place, or is it aimed at someone else? Did the author successfully convey their intended message?" Questions like that.

And that's doing us a disservice in all media, all across the board. For example, if a character does something you would never do, because it's a Bad Thing To Do, the character is problematic! Because I, an upstanding citizen, would never do that! Forget the fact that the character is still going through character development at this point. Forget that the character's background led them to make this decision, and they thought it was the right one at the time, when it wasn't. Forget that the author may be setting up events in the future or trying to teach a lesson or trying to show that someone who does such things is still a human being and can still be a sympathetic character even if they mess up...

Anyway, I'll get off my soap box now, this is just what this post made me think of. To go back to the original post, if you dont want to see a story about horror protagonists falling victim to circumstances out of their control, and would rather see a cute romance, go find yourself a cute romance to read instead. If you want to see protagonists making all the right decisions and overcoming all odds, go find a story about that instead. This is a horror movie. And in horror movies, people make stupid mistakes, because they don't know theyre in a horror movie. Go find something else to watch or read

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[thegainingdesk]

It Takes Two

Robert had hit the jackpot with Liam. They just clicked in a way that he never had with any of his previous partners, or honestly, even his friends and family. Robert wasn't a particularly romantic person, but the word “soulmate” had cropped up in his thoughts more than once.

The two had the same humour, enough shared hobbies that they could always find something to do together, but were different enough that they were constantly introducing each other to new films, music, and ideas. It helped that they were both gorgeous. Liam was a little shorter than average with the trim build of a swimmer, and his sparkling blue eyes stood out below ash blond hair; Robert was taller and bulkier, but no less fit, and with dark hair and eyes. They both had great careers, great families, great friends, great lives. Robert couldn't imagine anything that could put a dent in the trajectory of their perfect relationship.

“Sorry, you want what?” Robert said, blinking. He couldn't believe his ears.

“I want us both to gain weight,” Liam said, breathing slowly and shakily as if to calm himself.

“Like bulking?” Robert asked slowly, grasping for an explanation that made sense. “At the gym?”

Liam exhaled forcefully and sat back. “No,” he said. “I want… I want to be fat. I'd like it if you were too.”

Robert sat in silence for a while. “Right,” he said after a while. “Okay.” He furrowed his brow. “Sorry, you're going to have to- why? I just don’t- why?”

“It's a uh…” Liam closed his eyes forcefully, balled his fists, clenched his teeth. “Well it's a sex thing,” he forced out. “I have a fat fetish.” He nervously played with the napkin in front of him and looked around the restaurant. “Like, we wouldn't have to, you know, I'm not saying I'd really want us to actually gain weight.” He laughed nervously. “But I just, I don't know, like it's a thing for me and I wanted you to know and umm well.” He took a sip of the beer in front of him. “I'd like it if we could do some stuff with it. Just, you know, roleplay or whatever, not obviously, like get fat or anything.”

The two men sat in silence for a while. “Okay,” Robert said after a while. “That's umm… well it's okay, I guess.”

“Yeah?” Liam said, sitting up in his chair and smiling for the first time in the conversation. “It’s okay? You don't think I'm a freak?”

Robert forced a thin smile. “Yeah,” he said. “I mean no, you're not a freak, but yeah, it's okay. I uhh, I think I'll need to think about it for a while.”

“Is everything okay for you both?” their waitress boomed down at the two of them in a thick Mancunian accent. They both jumped in their seats. “Sorry!” she continued. “Didn't mean to scare you!”

Robert shook his head. “Sorry, no, it's fine, we were just in the middle of umm… Yeah. It's good. The food’s all good.” He looked down at the half eaten burger and chips in front of him.

The waitress raised her eyebrows, clearly excited to tell her colleagues about the hot gay couple who seemed to be breaking up over dinner. “You call me if you need anything then, won't you?” she said as she walked away.

“I'm sorry,” Liam said. “This is a lot to just put on you, it’s weird. I just thought maybe over a meal might be easier, you know. Not as intense.”

Robert shook his head. “It's fine, really, I just need to…” He looked at the platter of sides that Liam had insisted on ordering. He'd found it odd at the time; now he found it made all too much sense. “I just need to get my head around it. Let's eat, yeah? We can talk about it in the morning?”

For the first time since they first met, their conversation was forced. They bounced between what they thought of recent movies they'd watched, banal work gossip, even at one point resorting to commenting on the weather. Slowly, the food disappeared from the table.

-

Robert woke Liam up by putting a mug of coffee on his bedside table and kissing his forehead. “Okay.”

Liam opened one bleary eye. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Robert repeated. “I've been thinking about it, and okay. If it'll make you happy, we can try out putting on some weight.” He sat down on the bed next to Liam.

“What?” Liam said, frantically sitting up in bed, all tiredness leaving his face immediately. “You're really- I mean, we don't actually- I'd be happy if we just did some roleplay, or maybe, I don't know, maybe a threesome with a big guy or-”

“No you wouldn't,” Robert said. “I saw you last night. You started off with saying you wanted us to get fat, then backtracked. This will make you happy.” He took a long swig of his own coffee. “And you make me happy. So I guess that I'll do it.”

“Rob, this is a really big… I mean…. Why are you okay with this? This is weird, I do know that.”

Robert shrugged and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I don't know if it is that weird, you know?” he said. “I mean, yes, obviously the specific, you know, request of it all is weird but…” He brought some photos and showed them to Liam. He swiped through men with varying degrees of dad bods, plus sized models, even some men with actual, if modest, guts. “People are into it, I guess? Like I know that. And I'm not averse to it, some of these guys are hot and I always like it when guys do bulks and…” He shrugged again and put his phone away. “I guess it would be nice to not worry about going to the gym and watching what we’re eating and stuff for a while.”

Liam hugged Robert tightly and kissed him. “This is amazing. You're amazing.”

Robert laughed. “Alright, alright. You’re going to owe me a lot of blowjobs for this though,” he joked.

“Oh don't you worry,” Liam flirted back. “Once you’ve put on a couple of stone you won’t be able to keep me off you.”

Robert’s face paled, but he gave a strained smile. “Come on,” he said, standing up off the bed. “I’ve been to the shops.” He swallowed nervously. “I thought we could have bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast.”

-

Getting fat, Robert thought to himself a month later, was actually pretty fun. No more bothering with cardio at the gym, eating whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Food just tasted so much better if you stopped caring about how much butter you were adding, and he'd never realised how good McDonald's breakfasts were, but now was having multiple a week on his days in the office; this past week he'd even started experimenting with fast food for lunch, a luxury he'd always previously avoided. There were benefits he'd not expected as well; he’d hit multiple personal bests on lifts at the gym as all the extra food acted as fuel, and he's quickly come to enjoy the satisfying warmth of an overly full and stretched out stomach. Best of all, Liam’s sexual appetite, always healthy, had positively exploded, and the two spent most of their time together naked and eating.

Of course, not everything was rosy. Robert found it disconcerting how quickly his abs had faded and how his trousers had started pinching his sides and he would occasionally panic after they'd gorged on a particularly large meal, staring at the small curve of his gut in the mirror as he wondered what he'd agreed to. Still, he reasoned, it wasn't really noticeable yet, especially with clothes on and it really was fun just cutting loose. Besides, it made Liam happy, and Robert was quickly realising that that was all that really mattered to him. Everyone gains a bit of weight in relationships anyway.

“Best start laying off the beers Robby,” Robert’s brother Dylan said, poking the small puddle of fat at his middle. “You're starting to look like me.” He slapped his own beer belly, grown since the birth of his daughter a couple of years before.

Robert choked on his beer. “What?” he said. His hand flew down to his side, feeling the thin layer of fat that had started to accumulate. He was sure that you couldn't see the gained weight through his clothes. “No, I haven't, umm…”

“Ah, I'm only taking the piss,” Dylan said, slapping Robert on the shoulder before draining his pint. “I'm hardly one to talk, am I?” He gestured down at himself. “I'm just saying, our genetics, it'll catch up to you sooner or later. You've seen dad.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Here, I saw him last week, he said he was seventeen bloody stone. I said bloody hell dad, you'll need to reinforce these chairs soon.” Robert laughed through a forced smile. “Anyway, speaking of taking the piss,” Dylan said standing up and walking to the gents.

Robert took the opportunity to survey his body. Perhaps, he thought, you could just about start to tell - sitting down anyway. His shirt fit just a tiny bit tighter than he was used to, and his torso wasn't quite as flat. He thought back to what his brother said. Would Liam want him to get as big as his dad? Seventeen stone. He tried to imagine that much weight on him. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, he reasoned, he had a good base of muscle, he wouldn't look gone to seed like his dad, with his beer gut that strained all his shirts. Still, he resolved to cut back. Liam seemed happy enough with his current size, anyway.

Four hours later, Robert stumbled through his front door, chips, cheese and gravy in hand, sauce from his already devoured kebab down his shirt. He found Liam watching a film in the living room.

“Hello sexy,” Robert growled through a mouthful of cheesy chips. His cock hardened as he flopped down next to his boyfriend and began to feel up his thighs.

“Hello sexy to you too,” Liam laughed. “Did you get any for me?” he asked as he stole a chip.

Robert shook his head and pushed some more chips in his mouth. “Sorry, didn't think,” he said. “Was just really hungry.”

“That's okay,” Liam said with a smile growing alongside his erection. “You get nice and filled up.” He squeezed Robert’s middle. “I'm loving this beer bloat you've got going on,” he growled. He leaned in and kissed Robert’s neck while one hand began unbuttoning Robert’s jeans. “Did you have a good time with Dylan?”

Robert sighed as his jeans sprung open. “He said I'm getting fat,” he told Liam. His hand fell on top of Liam's as it massaged his gut. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”

Liam laughed. “Oh don't you worry about that,” he said. “You're nowhere near what I’d call fat yet.” Robert smiled before belching. Liam scrunched his nose against the smell of his breath, strong with beer. He leaned in and kissed Robert, hard and long. “How about we take those chips to the bedroom, big boy?”

-

Robert turned to the side as he looked in the mirror and sucked in. He tried to tell himself that he didn't look fat per se, but god was that getting more and more difficult. He was running out of euphemisms for his changing body; for a while he’d told himself he was looking solid, then healthy, then sturdy, burly, and husky and now he had to admit that thick was the best he could hope for. Hell, even chubby might be underselling it. He stopped sucking in and let his gut pool out, sticking out past the waistband of his new 36” waist trousers. He thought ruefully about the 38s lying in the drawer that Liam had convinced him to buy, telling him he'd be wearing them sooner rather than later. He brought his arm up and flexed. At least his muscles were growing too, but he had to admit, it was becoming less apparent as they got covered up with a layer of chub.

At least he wasn't alone in his changing body, with Liam also growing alongside him, although not nearly as fast. While Robert had recently passed two hundred and twenty pounds, Liam was lamenting how he was still fifteen pounds away from the big two-oh-oh. Robert told himself that it was just the difference in their heights, but he knew he wasn't really that much taller, and the difference in their weights really was becoming obvious. While Liam’s pudge had only just started forming a proper belly over the last five pounds, Robert’s own gut had long since reached the point of stretching out his shirts.

In a perverse way, Robert was almost beginning to enjoy how much fatter he was getting than Liam. He'd always been taller and bulkier than his boyfriend, with broader shoulders and bigger muscles, and odd as it was, he was enjoying how he was now outgrowing him in yet another way. He began to feel more masculine, more dominant, and he loved the way his new body made the smaller man go crazy and want to worship him, all while knowing that Liam would give anything to look like he did now. He'd always had a competitive streak, and this was just yet another competition to win.

Robert struggled to button up a shirt, and gritted his teeth as he felt the buttons strain around his shirt, even as his cock inexplicably swelled in his jeans. He walked downstairs and tried to ignore the sensation of his body shaking with each step to find Liam checking his hair in the mirror.

“You ready to go?” Robert asked.

Liam looked up smiling, only for his mouth to fall open upon seeing Robert. “Fuck Rob, you look massive.” He reached out to grab the bottom of Robert’s gut and gave it a small shake. “Are you sure you don't want to wear a large? It's a bit tight. There'll be loads of people there.”

Robert shrugged, the motion causing his shirt to ride up. He tugged at the hem awkwardly. “This is a large,” he explained. “I’ll need to go shopping for some extra larges this week.”

“Oh wow,” Liam whispered. “Extra large, that's, wow.” He tugged at the hem of his own shirt in a mirror of Robert’s motion. Despite being a medium, Robert knew, the shirt was barely snug. Robert struggled to hide a smug smirk, even as his annoyance at his shrinking clothes mounted.

“Well you'll be wearing this shirt soon enough, eh?” Robert said before giving Liam a kiss on the cheek. “And then we can share extra larges once you catch up.”

Liam smiled sadly. “Yeah, maybe.” His phone buzzed and he looked down at it. “Taxi’s here,” he said. “You got everything?”

Robert nodded an affirmative, before dashing to the kitchen and grabbing a couple of chocolate bars for the road.

“God did you see their faces?” Liam asked as they came back that night. His face was flushed with drink and arousal. “They couldn't believe how fat we'd gotten!”

Robert burped into his fist and began to unbutton his shirt and trousers. He gave a sigh of relief as his unconstrained belly was allowed to surge forward. Liam stared at the spectacle for a second before hurriedly mimicking the motion, despite his own clothes not being nearly so restrictive.

“Good food,” Robert said simply. His cock was rock hard, as it was more and more frequently whenever he'd stuffed himself, as he had tonight. He let out another belch.

“You ate so much,” Liam said, almost reverently. “When you went to the toilet, Olive asked if everything was okay. They're properly worried about how much weight we've gained.”

Robert gave a lopsided grin. He was sure they were mainly concerned about him, and not Liam, especially as he'd ended up finishing so many people's meals at the end of the night while Liam struggled to finish his own plate. He reached into his pants and gave his hard cock a squeeze. “You know,” he whispered to Liam, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “There's a tub of ice cream in the freezer. Maybe you could, you know, while I ate it?”

Liam's eyes widened. “You're still hungry? Oh wow. Yeah, yeah, absolutely, I mean, wow.” His smile widened and his hands explored the sides of Robert’s gut.

“Go on then,” Robert said with a small nod of his head towards the kitchen. “I'll be upstairs.”

“Oh, right, yeah. Of course, I'll just go and, yeah.” Liam dashed off towards the kitchen as Robert trudged upstairs, massaging his bloated middle.

Liam entered the bedroom to find Robert sat on the edge of the bed completely naked, with his legs spread wide to expose his thick, hard cock.

“I microwaved it for a bit,” Liam said. “So it's easier to eat."

Robert merely grunted and spread his legs wider in response as he took the tub away from Liam, making his wants clear. Liam sank down before him and dutifully swallowed as much of his prick as he could. Robert grabbed the spoon embedded in the ice cream, and sucked what was on there before tossing it to the side. Instead he simply raised the tub to his lips and began to chug. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, relishing in the twin pleasures of head and dessert.

Okay, he thought, yes, he'd lost his hot gym body he’d worked so hard for, but god, if this is what the alternative was, who gave a shit? What did he want to work out for anyway? He was in a great relationship, getting treated like a king, so it's not like he needed to attract anyone. And besides, his brother was right, with his genetics it was always going to be a losing battle. No, it was best to just lie back, taste the ice cream, and think of England.

He climaxed just as he finished the ice cream. “Thanks babe,” he grunted. “That was great.”

“That was really hot,” Liam enthused, unbuckling his belt and dropping his own trousers.

“Anything to make you happy,” Robert said as he crawled into bed and began scrolling on his phone.

“Oh. Right,” Liam said. “Yeah.” He crawled into bed next to Robert.

-

Robert burped as he brought the carton of heavy cream away from his lips. The taste was greasy and unpleasant, but he thrilled at the thought of how many calories he'd just chugged, and all before dinner.

“What are you doing?” Liam asked. “We’re leaving in a moment, you still need to get changed.”

“Just topping up the tank,” Robert grinned. He pushed his gut out to make a show of it. “What's wrong with what I'm wearing?”

Liam looked at his watch. “We’re eating in half an hour Rob,” he said. “And that shirt’s ridiculous, it's barely buttoned.”

Robert smirked and moved in close, grabbing Liam's love handles and grinding their soft bodies together. “Don't worry babes,” he said. “I'm just getting warmed up. Hey,” he added in a whisper. “I'll even let you feed me dessert later.”

Liam broke away and stepped back. “I'm being serious Rob,” he said, struggling to hide his erection. “You can't wear that shirt. Go find an extra large.”

Robert drummed his fingers against his gut. “All in the wash,” he said smugly. “Come on, don't act like this doesn't drive you wild.” He fingered his belly button through one of the gaping buttons holes. “Two-fifty pounds, eh? Did you ever imagine I'd get so big for you when you asked me to get fat for you?” He reached down and gripped Liam’s cock through his trousers. Liam whimpered involuntarily. “Did I tell you that I'm fatter than Dylan now? Dad too. Biggest guy in the family now, sounds pretty good, doesn't it?”

Liam stepped back away from Robert’s grasp. “Just put on a jumper or something,” he said. He rearranged his erection. “The one you got a couple of weeks ago will work.” Robert stepped closer again and he stepped back. “Please Rob,” he said. “It is hot how big you're getting, and I'm glad you're starting to get something out of it too, but not in front of my family, yeah?”

“I'm just joking!” Robert said. “I know I can't wear this out in public anymore. I'll go sort it now.”

“Thank you,” Liam said.

As Robert left he smacked the side of his gut. “All for you baby!”

Robert returned shortly after, his jumper managing to cover his body but doing nothing to disguise his expanded girth.

“I didn't ask you to get fat,” Liam said, sitting at the kitchen table.

Robert laughed. “What?” he asked.

“Earlier,” Liam said. “You said I'd asked you to get fat.”

“Did I? Well, you did, didn't you! Otherwise I have made a very big error of judgement.” He lifted his jumper to reveal the still straining shirt.

“No, I mean, I know I did ask you to get fat, obviously,” Liam said. “It's just. I didn’t say that. I said I'd like us both to get fat. Together. I feel like that's not been a thing for a while.”

Robert stepped closer to Liam and rubbed his buttery side. “You're getting fat too,” he said. He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of comforting someone about how they were gaining weight. “Here, you hit two hundred pounds finally, right? That's great! I'm really proud of you.” He kissed bent down to kiss Liam. “You're my chubby guy too. It's just that this is your thing I guess, so I don't know how to do all the encouragement stuff you do for me. I just want to make you happy, and I guess I got a little carried away.”

Liam shook his head. “No, I know,” he said. “I'm just being silly. I do really appreciate what you've done.” He laughed. “You know, I just kind of thought you'd put on twenty pounds and then get freaked out. I actually thought I'd end up being the fatter one.”

Robert kissed Liam again. “Funny to think about that now, eh? Here, we've still got five minutes before we need to leave,” he said. “There's another thing of cream in the fridge. Why don't I feed it to you before we go?” He leant in and whispered in Liam's ear. “I think you'll really love how two hundred and fifty pounds feels.”

Liam pulled a face and laughed. “No way,” he said. “I don't know how you chug them, it's absolutely gross.”

Robert shrugged. “Your loss is my gain. Why don't you have some chocolate or something then?” He opened the fridge and licked his lips as he looked. “You know, if you don't want it, maybe you could feed it to me? Maybe we could see if I could break my record for number of calories today?”

Liam forced a smile. “Yeah, if you want,” he said. “Sounds hot.”

Robert grinned as he passed the cream to Liam and sat down and tilted his head back to allow him to pour it down his throat. “The things I do for you, eh?”

-

Robert lifted up his t-shirt as he scratched his side. His most recent stretch marks were particularly aggravating, a fact which wasn't helped by the fact that he was just on the cusp of needing to size up his t-shirts and sweatpants, the too tight fabric irritating the more sensitive skin.

“What's for dinner babe?” he asked Liam as he walked into the kitchen. Liam was clearing away the remnants of Robert’s lunch, a small pile of McDonald’s wrappers and boxes.

Liam's eyes flicked up and down Robert’s body before turning away. “Roast lamb,” he answered. “I thought we'd have something a bit special, since I reached fifteen stone yesterday.”

“Oh yeah?” Robert asked with a smile. He reached out and patted Liam's small paunch. “That's amazing, well done!” He hoped the milestone might work to undo some of the tension that had developed between them ever since Robert had passed two hundred and fifty pounds, almost thirty pounds ago now. Robert sometimes almost forgot that Liam was trying to gain at all, such was the disparity in their rates of weight gain.

“Yeah, I did actually tell you yesterday,” Liam said icily.

“Oh sorry!” Robert said, as he opened a cupboard and pulled out a pack of biscuits. “I must have forgotten.” He began to eat the biscuits three at a time.

“Yeah, well, you were eating, so…” Liam muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, you said something,” Robert insisted.

Liam shrugged. “I said that you were eating,” he repeated. “So it's not surprising that you didn't pay any attention to me.”

“Where's this come from?” Robert asked, incredulous. Biscuit crumbs showered from his mouth as he spoke.

“Where's it… How about the last two years of you doing nothing but eating all the time, only caring about yourself?” Liam snapped.

“Excuse me?” Robert said. “Can I remind you that all of this,” he gestured down at his body, his soft overhang hanging out the bottom of his shirt, the way his sides bulged out, the outline of his tits pushing out and down, the beard he'd grown to hide his double chin, “is because you wanted it?”

“Oh, don't put this on me!” Liam replied. “You want this.”

“You're the one with the fat fetish!” Robert pointed out. “I’m just going along for the ride because I love you!”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Well when was the last time I encouraged you then, if you're just doing it for me?”

“Yeah, actually!” Robert retorted. “I'm doing this for you and when was the last time you encou-”

“More to the point!” Liam interrupted. “When have you ever, ever, encouraged me?”

“What?” Robert asked, blinking. The question had genuinely thrown him.

“This was supposed to be about me!” Liam snapped. His voice shook a little. “I was the one who asked you to do it and at every fucking stage you've used it as an opportunity for me to wait on you hand and foot.”

“Oh, I've not done anything for you have I?” Robert grabbed the side of his gut and shook it. “Me gaining over a hundred pounds, just because you asked me to, doesn't count as me doing anything, does it?” A heavy silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of Robert forcing biscuits into his mouth. “I knew you were jealous,” Robert muttered eventually, crumbs spraying from his mouth.

“I am not fucking jealous of you,” Liam fumed. “How dare you? Fucking jealous.”

“Yeah, you know what?” Robert said. “That's exactly what this is. You wanted to get fat and you can't stand how much bigger I am than you.”

“Can you hear yourself?” Liam scoffed. “And you act like you don't want this at all.” He turned away and began to pull food from the fridge to make dinner. “No, what I wanted was for us to gain weight together. You had to take it all way too far.”

“I took it too far?” Robert asked.

“Yes,” Liam replied. “Yeah, you know what, you did take it too far.” He spun around and gestured down at his body. “I'm quite happy with where I am. I wanted us both to get dad bods, hot ex-jock vibes. Not obese middle aged dad.”

Robert’s face grew red. “That’s a lie and you know it,” he spat. “You still worship this gut every chance you get.”

Liam’s nostrils flared. He turned away, back to the chopping board, and busied himself with vegetables for a minute. Robert could hear him trying to slow his breathing. Eventually, he turned back around. “I just think we should both slow down,” he said. His voice was measured, slow and calm. His fists were clenched and shaking with white knuckles. “We've both,” he put special emphasis on the word, “maybe taken this too far, and it's probably best if we both take a break from the idea of gaining for a bit.”

“Yeah, why don't you slow down your gains,” Robert mumbled.

“What was that?”

Robert bit his tongue. He was being offered an opportunity to end this argument. “Yeah, you're probably right,” he agreed. “Whatever makes you happy. It was your idea after all. If you want to stop, no reason to carry on.” He shoved a fistful of biscuits into his mouth.

“Yeah, right, well,” Liam said. He sighed and turned back towards the food he was preparing. “Why don't you go watch something? I'll call you when dinner's ready. It'll be a while.”

Robert shrugged. “Sure,” he agreed.

“And Robert?” Liam called just as he'd left the room.

“Yeah?” Robert replied.

“Why don't you set up the spare room for tonight,” Liam said. “Your snoring’s gotten really bad the past twenty pounds or so, and I need to be up early.”

Robert hesitated for a moment. “Yeah, can do.”

-

“”What the fuck is this?” Liam sighed. Robert couldn't help but admire the way his partner's newly blossomed love handles were framed by the hallway light behind him. He felt oddly proud of his boyfriend's recent weight gain, even as it paled against his own.

“I uh… well,” Robert began. He looked down at himself in the light streaming in from the door. Clad only in too tight underwear, crumbs had fallen down to litter his body hair. His fingers were thick with chocolate icing where he'd dug them into the cake in front of him, and he knew that it must be all around his mouth as well. “I got hungry,” he finished lamely.

Liam entered the dark kitchen and sat in a chair opposite Robert. “Dinner was plenty,” he said. “I was full.”

“Yeah, well, I'm bigger than you, aren't I?” Robert pointed out. “I can't help it if I get hungry, can I?”

Liam shrugged. “I guess, yeah,” he said. “Could you help buying a-” he picked up the packaging and peered at it in the dim light. “Party-sized triple chocolate fudge birthday cake, serves twenty, I'm assuming earlier today?” he asked. “Because this didn't magically appear in the kitchen. Could you help hiding it? And suggesting that you sleep in the spare room so I wouldn't notice when you snuck downstairs?”

Robert slumped in his chair. The wood groaned in protest. “I am trying,” he said after a while.

Liam sighed and put his head in his hands. “I know this isn't the first time this week,” he said. “I know that it's at least two or three nights most weeks, and if it's not,” he gestured at the mess of chocolate on the table and on Robert, “this, you sneak out and go to a drive through.”

The kitchen was silent for a while.

“We said we'd both stop gaining,” Liam said eventually. “We said we'd try and lose weight.”

“You've put on weight too,” Robert said. He felt like a child arguing about missing out on play time. He couldn't stop thinking about the rest of the cake in front of him. He wanted to lick the chocolate off his fingers.

“I've put on fifteen, maybe twenty pounds,” Liam said. “I'm not saying I've been great,” he admitted. “But I've cut down. That's not crazy for a year.” He paused for a while. “How much do you think you've put on?” he asked.

Robert shrugged. “Yeah, probably the same,” he said. He could feel his cheeks redden, and hoped it was dark enough that Liam couldn't see. “It's not like I weigh myself very often.”

Liam put his face in his hands and leant on the table. “I found your grommr account,” he said.

Robert squirmed in his seat. “Well what were you doing on grommr then?” He winced even as he said it.

“I've got a fat fetish,” Liam replied. “What are you doing on there?” When he got no reply, he continued. “It said you're three hundred and forty pounds.” He picked up a small fragment of the leftover destroyed cake and ate it slowly. “Is that right?”

“I guess,” Robert said.

“I don't think this is working,” Liam said.

“I know,” Robert said. “I'll do better. I'll try and lose some weight, I know I've taken it too far now, I’ll join a gym and-”

“No,” Liam cut him off. “I don't think this is working. Us. I think… I think we should break up.”

-

“You okay buddy?” Dylan asked.

Robert shrugged and took a swig of his beer. He belched. “Why wouldn't I be okay?”

Dylan sighed. “Rob, I… I mean look at yourself. This isn't okay.”

Robert scratched his beard. He'd maybe let it grow a bit too long, and he'd not had a chance to buy any clothes that fit in the past couple of months, but what was he supposed to do? He'd been busy, and it's not like he could just walk into shops and pick up his size anymore. “It's just work and stuff,” he said. “And with the move, my appearance hasn't been my top priority.”

“Yep, and I completely get that,” Dylan placated. His voice was bright and soft and his hands were spread open like he'd presumably heard in some how to handle difficult conversations podcast. “But I don't think we’re talking about just your appearance here. You have… fuck me Rob, you've gotten really fucking big.”

Robert scratched his gut and tried to pull his t-shirt down. “It's just the break-up,” he said. “And you've said it before, we've got shit genetics for getting fat.”

“Look, I'm not trying to have a go,” Dylan said. He slapped his own gut. “I'll be the first to admit that I'm not exactly in my prime. I don't think I've been to the gym since Livy’s been born, probably not great. Shit happens, and I get that the break-up hasn't helped, and work, and yep, absolutely, we did not win the genetic lottery in our family for twenty-eight inch waists but… I mean this isn't exactly the break-up, is it? It's been going on a lot longer than that, but at least, fuck, at least I used to think you were happy with it. Happy with Li-” Robert shot him a dirty glare. “Well, whatever, happy, anyway.”

“Who says I'm not happy?” Robert asked. He drained his beer bottle and stood to get another. When he returned he collapsed back into his seat and Dylan winced. “Yeah, I put on relationship weight with Liam too, but that wasn't, you know, that wasn't anything to do with… We just weren't, I don't know, compatible anymore. I know I'm fat, I know I’m stressed, and that I've been doing better, but I'm fine. You can drop it.”

“Look, let's…” Dylan looked around the room as if searching for something to help him. “I weighed myself the other day, eighteen stone. Not proud to be fatter than dad these days, but you know, there it is. How much are you weighing?” He looked Robert up and down. “Over twenty stone?” He hesitated. “Twenty-five?” He said it as if he couldn't believe anyone could weigh so much.

Robert shrugged. “Twenty-seven maybe.” He actually thought it might be a bit more.

“Jesus fucking Christ Robby,” Dylan exclaimed. “No, sorry, I don't mean- that's not, you know, it's fine, bodies come in all different- but fucking hell Rob that's… Twenty seven stone!” he cried. “That's not just relationship weight, is it? That's not break-up weight or stress weight or shit genetics that’s…” He took a deep breath and clasped his knee. “Do you like it?”

Robert stared at him. “Like what?”

“Look, no judgement,” Dylan said. “Vanessa says she likes, you know,” he shook his own gut for emphasis. “The belly. She even feeds me up a bit sometimes, I think, and I'm not exactly turning down bigger portions. I know it's a thing. I even get it a bit. But, I mean Rob. You can tell me.” He reached out and grasped Robert's knee. “Is it intentional? Even just a little bit? At least if, fuck, if I knew you were doing it on purpose, that you liked how fucking big you'd gotten I could… I could stop worrying about you fucking losing it. Like, I'm going to worry about your heart giving way, yeah, fine, but I can't be dealing with worrying about you being depressed or needing help and… And if something happened and I'd not done anything. Not after mum.” He started fidgeting with his collar, a nervous habit he'd had since school.

“Yeah,” Robert said quietly. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I'm into it. It's been, you know, on purpose. Mostly. You don't have to worry about that stuff. I'm not going to, you know.”

“Thank fuck,” Dylan sighed. “I mean, not thank fuck. It's still pretty fucking weird if I'm being honest, but I'm glad that you're, I don't know, not happy I guess, I know you've got other, whatever. I'm glad this isn't some insane compulsive episode or… I mean I've been imagining loads of stuff.” He downed his beer and breathed shakily. “So Liam was into it too? That's how you two met? Some freaky gay kink club?”

“What? No. Fuck off,” Robert said laughing. “Liam was into it, yeah, but he uhh, well he actually introduced me to it. I went along with it for a bit and then… I don't know, at some point I started liking it.”

Dylan nodded. “I get it. Like, I know I'm not supposed to be liking how fat I've gotten but there's something about it, I guess,” he said. “So what happened with you and Liam? You realised you only had the fat thing in common?”

Robert sighed. “No, we were… fuck. We were fairly perfect for each other. He got, I don't know, jealous about how big I was…” He took a drink and closed his eyes. “No. It wasn't just him. I turned into a knobhead about it.”

“Turned into a knobhead?” Dylan asked with a laugh.

“Oh fuck off,” Robert said. “I got, I don't know. There was a lot going on. I felt like I was doing this huge thing for him, but then I started to like it, and… At some point I managed to make it all about me. And if I pretended I still didn't like it I could still make out I was making this noble sacrifice, but really I was just completely ignoring him. And I think, you know, he did get pretty jealous at one point, but I didn't help. Made it into this weird competition.”

“Well you've got me beat at least,” Dylan said. He reached over to pat Robert's arm. “Here, I've got to go to town tomorrow. I'm not exactly fitting into my work shirts myself these days, how about we go together? Get you some stuff that actually covers that gut.”

“Fuck off,” Robert said, laughing.

“No, I'm serious, Vanessa's actually said she won't let you back round if you're not covered up again,” Dylan said. “You're scaring Livy. And the dog. Come on, we’ll make a day of it.”

“You do know I can't exactly just pop into Marks and Sparks and pick up a jumper, don't you? Most places stop at three XL if you're lucky.”

“No, come on,” Dylan insisted. “There's that plus size place in the Arndale, and Go Outdoors has a sale on, they'll have a tent that'll fit you.”

“Oh fuck off!” Robert laughed. “Yeah, go on then, I'll come along.” He drained his beer bottle. “Thanks, Dyl. Seriously. This has been… It's been good.”

Dylan shrugged. “What am I here for, eh? I'm just sorry I didn't mention it ten fucking stone ago.”

-

Robert huffed as he found his seat and squeezed himself into it. He hated how cinemas made you pay extra for supposedly premium seats, only for them to still not be big enough. He settled himself in, sorting his collection of drinks and snacks.

“Robert? Is that you?” Robert looked up to see a man significantly smaller than him, but still undeniably fat.

“Liam?” he replied.

“Oh god,” Liam said. “I’ll find another seat, don't worry, it doesn't matter.”

Robert patted the seat next to him. “Don't be silly,” he insisted. “It'll be nice to catch up during the trailers. Besides,” he looked around at the rapidly filling seats around them. “It's the opening weekend of Paddington vs Barbie 2: Paddington's Revenge, I'm not sure there’ll be any spare seats to move to.”

Liam looked around, sighed and sat down.

“You here with anyone?” Robert asked.

Liam shook his head. “The first one went right over my head the first time I watched it, I decided to come without any distractions.”

“Same,” Robert agreed. “And after it won all those Oscars I knew I should come see this one quick before anyone spoiled it for me.” He surveyed Liam for a bit. “How've you been, anyway?”

Liam smiled. “Good, yeah. Lots of the same, you know,” he said. “Not much to report.” He hesitated for a moment. “Still very much on the gain train.”

“I noticed!” Robert laughed. He reached over and poked Liam's gut where it spilled out over his belt. “How much are you clocking in at these days?”

“Two-seventy,” he said proudly. “I'm wanting to put a bit of a push on before Christmas, get over twenty stone, maybe.”

“Nice!” Robert said, slapping Liam's side. “Well, it suits you. Always did.”

“How about you?” Liam asked. “I noticed you've lost all the weight I forced onto you.”

Robert laughed and shook his own gut that spilled out towards his knees. “Yeah, I couldn't stand it, you know, who'd be fat?” he joked. “I'm about four-seventy, maybe four-eighty these days.”

Liam whistled. “Wow,” he said. “That's incredible. Like, I thought I was fat but you're another two hundred pounds on top of that.”

“You are fat,” Robert said warmly. “I'm just a lot fatter.”

“A whole decently chubby person fatter, in fact,” Liam pointed out.

“I like that,” Robert said laughing; his whole body shook with the action. “You know, I eventually admitted to myself that I probably am a gainer after all.”

“Probably a gainer, wow,” Liam said. “That must have been a difficult conclusion to come to.” He put a finger underneath one of Robert’s moobs and lifted it before letting it drop and watching the ripples spread across the larger man's body.

“Yeah, well, you know, a pretty great guy introduced me to the whole thing,” Robert said.

Liam smiled sadly. “So have you been seeing anyone or…?”

“Not really,” Robert replied. “I meet up with some feeders occasionally but, they're not, you know. It's not the same.”

“No, I know what you mean,” Liam agreed.

“So are you?” Robert asked. “Seeing anyone or anything?”

Liam shook his head. “Some dates and umm… no. No. Not seeing anyone.”

“I'm sorry,” Robert said. “For everything. For… I got selfish. You were the best thing that ever happened to me and I turned it into this selfish fucking…”

“I'm sorry too,” Liam said. “It wasn't just you. I asked you to do it for me then didn't like it when it turned out you actually enjoyed it, which is pretty fucked up of me. We could have talked about it more. Properly I mean.” He looked around. “Listen, all these people listening in are clearly finding our conversation very fucking weird, and I can't really be bothered with all this art-house stuff anyway. Do you want to just go get something to eat?”

Robert looked down the full row. “Getting out might be a bit of an ordeal. I'm not really built for squeezing past people these days,” he said.

“Sounds hot,” Liam replied. “You in?”

Robert laughed. “Yeah, okay. Dinner sounds nice.”

-

Liam licked the last of the chocolate off of his fingers as Robert lapped up his cum.

“Happy three hundred pounds babes,” Robert said as he leant up.

Liam struggled to sit up. “Your turn now,” he said.

Robert shook his head. “This is your night. Big celebration,” he said. “You don't have to do anything.”

“I want to,” Liam insisted. “Besides, we've got a whole other cake and I’m stuffed.”

“Oh I'll eat the cake,” Robert said. “But you don't have to suck me off.

“You're sure?” Liam asked.

Robert smiled. “It's fine, you take a nap to digest everything, I'll go clean up,” he said. “As long as you're happy, I'm happy.”

[mintmatcha]

Hi, you can ignore if you like. But there is absolutely a point where there’s a big fight, probably promoted by Monoma and his mind games, their teenage kid is like “fuck this I want to live with dad!” And Shinso is the one trying to keep it together, but Reader is the one who says “fine, call him, see if he’ll come get you this time”. The kid is all smug when Monoma does pickup the phone and says he’ll come get him.

Teenage kid thinks he’s won this argument, honestly. He’s at his dad’s place, little rules, no annoying step-dad, it’s great. It’s all fun and games at first, he stays up as late as he wants, his dad lets him order whatever he wants, he doesn’t have to do chores or his homework. But Monoma doesn’t know his schedule at all, doesn’t know what medicines he needs, doesn’t understand that he has extracurriculars he needs help with, doesn’t sit with him and rub his back when he gets freaked out by the battles in downtown, doesn’t make embarrassing songs that make him laugh, no Shinso who has a dry sense of humor that’s just a little too dark that makes the kid spit soda out of his nose.

The last straw is when Monoma swear that they’ll have a boys night, just them. They’ll eat dinner together, watch some movies, play video games together on the expensive game system his dad got him. But Monoma comes home late, some pretty young thing clinging to his arm and giggling. His kid is sitting at the kitchen table, trying to figure out what the fuck an imaginary number is. And he sees Monoma kinda roll his eyes and then usher the woman towards the back of the house before coming over and sitting on the edge of the table, all smiles and laughter.

And Monoma doesn’t really have apologies, just excuses. Swearing that he forgot that it was Friday, that he got busy, that his kid was too Grown Up to really need him around, and when are you going back to your mother’s house anyway?

And the kid realizes at that moment between all the nonchalance and excess promises to make it up to him, that his dad is kind of an asshole.

he has an allergic reaction for the first time in years and Monoma's only epipen is expired by years. he ends up fine, with just a quick hospital visit, but the experience is scary and all he wants is his back rubbed-

he ends up calling you and you're in the hospital within the hour, still in your work uniform, apron still knotted tight.

[jamethinks]

Since Yor and Loid both work very dangerous jobs they have picked a few quirks in relation to safety. Their ideas of what's a normal thought process are a bit warped. But because they're so close it never really strikes them as odd

-

*Twilight and Yor enter a new building*

Loid: There are approximately 15 exits to the exterior, including windows

Yor: 20 security workers. Some are posing as wait staff. No guns only tasers

Loid: No. The head one has a gun. Small discrete. It's probably a pistol. My best guess is that he's not supposed to have it.

Yor: right. I think that table in the north east is our safest bet.

Loid: I said the same thing. Best escape route. Can accommodate moving Anya with ease

Anya: I just wanted to meet bondman.

-

*Twilight showing Yor around a house they want to buy*

Loid: below the basement there's a secret cellar. There's also a tunnel that leads all the way to the garage at the back of the property so we can easily escape

Yor: that's nice but I am concerned about Anya. I don't want her to come down here and play and get stuck by accident.

Loid: yeah, I'm gonna have to work out the mechanics of it. Need it be discrete but also not easy for kids to play around with. Will take a minute

Yor: that's fine. But I do love having a cellar. Nice a spacious and soundproof.

Loid: you could kill someone down here and no one would know

Yor: exactly.

-

*Yor comes back from visiting Melinda's house and is discussing it with Loid*

Yor: the house is such a maze. If you wanted to break in you're gonna need a map

Loid: what's the security like

Yor: surprisingly light on the inside. You would be good once you're inside but getting inside is the real struggle.

Yor: I must say the landscaping is a great deception. You'd think it would be easy to break in and use the foliage as cover, but it's so noisy it would alert anyone.

Loid: *chuckles* those Desmonds really have a way with security huh

-

*watching a horror movie*

Yor, watching a man get chopped up: that's so anatomically incorrect

Loid: that's way to much blood for such a shallow cut

Yor: you only get that kind of spray for a jugular

Loid: There's no way they didn't get caught with all that stomping they've been doing

Loid: that's not how a silencer works

Yor: look at that bullet wound. That's way to big for the type of bullets they were using

Loid: The exit wound is the same size, too. Seriously, who directed this?

-

*Twilight about to teach Anya how to shoot a gun*

Yor: loid what the hell are you doing?

Loid: look ok she's needs to be able to defend herself against intruders. The stabbing and hand to hand combat rely on her being in close proximity. Guns are vest for long range

Yor:

Yor: fine. But we are not showing her how to use a shot gun. It's way to heavy. Trying a pistol.

Loid: No. Too small. It'll be harder for her to get a good shot in. Shot guns can be propped up so she won't have to carry it. Plus, they're way more socially acceptable to have in the house

Anya: Becky's probably playing dress up right now...

[azlovesem]

I font think of dhit. Nothing hood anymore. My eyes are turnong black thanos for not helping ne at all and keaving me like this. I hope this xmas is not kind to any of you. I. Not ever watching snother movie again. If anyone puts one on ill just go for a long walk. Until its over. Im finished with snyone i dobt give a fuck. I defend no one anymore really i dont like anyone. No one. Im alne on a dead and dying planet. I hate you all. Get fuckn murdered gor ne so i can laugh at you on the tv. Crash the llane do i can laugh. Blow each other up thats funny and entertaining yo an Archangel. Stuff uour nedsls up your ass veteran. You fought gor snd they fied gor nothing if it all comes to nothing right? Right i know im right im not aak g dhot stupid chimp. I font go e a fuck you survived. Barely ftombthe looks of it. Ha ha ha ha warrior. Dont maje md laugh smerican lie doreading disease of bullshit.

“And whenever you see the moon, think of me, since that's how I remember you every night.”

— HIRA.S

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 4 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

Present

Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad. . .

Tara’s words and her recount of her conversation with Sam makes all the puzzle pieces fall into place.

That’s why Sam snuck into my room all those years ago. That’s why she changed so much after, and that’s why she left.

It all makes sense now, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hurt Tara by leaving, hurt me by leaving. It also doesn’t change the fact that she wasn’t there for me when I needed her to most. When I begged her to come back and she just screamed at me to stop calling without even letting me explain why I was calling in the first place.

I’m feeling so many things right now, it’s kind of overwhelming, but I try my best to stay calm so I don’t freak Tara out.

She’s been moved to a private floor since Sam left and slept earlier while I called Liam and Paige again. Now, she’s awake once more, curled into my side while we’re watching a movie together.

I really try to focus on what’s going on, but my mind keeps drifting back to Sam.

She could have talked to me! She could have told me about her real dad. Why didn’t she? Did she think I was going to hate her for it? Did she think I would stop being her friend if I knew?

I wouldn’t have done any of that. Who her father is doesn’t change who she is. At least that’s my opinion. She must think otherwise, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left.

I’m mad at her for abandoning Tara and leaving me. I’m sad she felt like she couldn’t talk to me, and I’m heartbroken thinking about how she tried to numb her pain by doing every drug imaginable and sleeping with anyone who would have her.

I still love her, that’s for sure because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be feeling like this, but I’m just not sure love is enough for me to forgive and forget everything she’s done.

“Hey.” Tara’s voice and her finger poking my chin snaps me out of my thoughts.

I clear my throat quietly and look down at her. “Yeah?”

“You okay?” she asks, her kind brown eyes darting between my own.

“No, not really, Sprout.” Tara wrinkles her nose and I chuckle. She’s never liked that nickname. “But I will be, and so will you.“

“You sure?” she asks and I nod.

“I’m sure. Now watch the movie, or I’m changing it,” I tease, making her laugh softly.

“Okay, okay. . .” She looks me over one last time before turning her attention back to the movie, mumbling, “You’re so annoying.”

I just hum and scratch her head, settling deeper into the bed and actually focusing on the movie. Thoughts of Sam are still swirling around in the back of my mind, but I ignore them as best as I can.

About half an hour later, the movie is still playing and, much to my surprise, I’m actually invested in the story now.

Some shuffling and a grunt in the hallway outside makes me look away from the TV though. We’re on a private floor and no one but Deputy Vinson should be here. A nurse comes in every two hours or so to check on Tara, but she was just here before we started the movie.

Alarm bells almost instantly go off in the back of my head, but I don’t want to scare Tara, so I stay calm and shout, “Hello?”

There’s no answer.

“Vinson?”

Again, nothing.

My stomach drops. This is not good. This is not good, at all.

“Y/N?” Tara whispers fearfully, the beeping sound of her heart rate monitor next to the bed speeding up.

I swallow thickly and continue to stare at the open doorway, straining my ears to hear anything else. It stays quiet though, and with every second that passes, the uneasiness in the pit of my stomach grows.

“Y/N,” Tara whimpers and when our eyes meet I see the fear I’m feeling inside reflected back at me.

He’s back. It’s Ghostface. It has to be him. He’s returned to finish the job.

I can feel my own heart rate picking up speed, and after another beat of silence, I decide that we have to leave. We’re sitting ducks if we stay.

“Fuck this.” I swallow again and nod to myself before pushing the blanket to the bottom of the bed. “We’re leaving, Sprout.”

Tara’s eyes widen and she doesn’t protest when I disconnect the IV from the back of her hand. For a moment, she’s frozen, watching me disconnect her from all the machines she’s attached to, before springing into action herself.

With shaking hands, she removes the oxygen tube while I get up and pull the nearby wheelchair to the side of the bed.

I won’t be able to do anything with only one arm, so even though it hurts and I know I’m probably going to tear my stitches, I take off my sling.

I wince at the stinging pain that shoots through my neck and arm, but grit my teeth and help Tara with the rest of the wires. Then I make sure the wheelchair’s breaks are on before turning back to the bed.

“We have to get moving, c’mon. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to go,” I say, slipping my arms under Tara’s knees and under her back. I don’t lift her yet though, waiting for her to nod before hoisting her up.

The gasp she lets out makes me hurt for her, but I can’t stop now.

We have to leave.

Carefully, I lift her out of the bed and place her in the wheelchair, making sure I don’t bump her broken leg against anything.

My shoulder protests, screaming in pain even though Tara is easy to lift, but I don’t stop moving especially when the lights suddenly go out.

We have to leave, now!

Tara whimpers in fear and in pain, and I rush to turn off the breaks on the wheelchair before pushing her to the doorway.

He’s here. I know it.

I peek into the ominously dark hallway all while trying not to let panic take over my mind.

Fear is healthy, panic is deadly.

That’s what my father taught me, and I know if we’re going to get out of this alive, I have to keep a clear head.

The hallway is empty, and the only way out is by getting to the elevator at the end of the hallway, so I slowly push Tara out of the room, keeping my eyes and ears open for any movement near by.

Just get to the elevator.

The deafening sound of Tara’s phone ringing on the bedside table back in her room makes both of us jump for a moment.

Tara sobs quietly, and I tighten my grip on the wheelchair.

I glance over my shoulder, seeing the screen of the phone light up the room before turning back around. There’s no time to get it now, and even less time to answer it.

I push Tara into the hallway, slowly and quietly while letting my eyes dart around in the darkness for any sign of danger.

It still eerily quiet though and I don’t see anything, so I continue pushing her until we get to the nurses’ station.

That’s where a chocked gasp claws it’s way out of Tara and when I follow her line of sight, I freeze for a second.

Laying right there on his back on the ground, with a slit throat and a pool of blood around his head is one of the deputies Sheriff Hicks assigned to Tara’s floor. He’s still alive, even though only barely, and chokes on his own blood, his wide eyes staring unblinkingly at the ceiling.

There’s nothing we can do to help him, he’ll be dead within a minute, but still, the sight of him, so helpless and alone, makes the blood in my veins freeze.

That could be me, or worse, Tara.

Stop! Don’t think about that, Y/N. Focus.

My dad’s voice rings in my head and makes me snap out of it. He’s right, I have to focus.

I’m about to continue pushing Tara towards the elevator, but then a thought strikes me.

I pause and look around again before letting go of the wheelchair and crouching down next to the deputy. I reach for his belt, fumbling around until my hand grazes the holster of his gun.

With a gun, we’d at least stand a change against Ghostface, but as fate would have it, the holster is empty. The gun is gone.

Fuck.

Not only does that mean that we have nothing to defend ourselves with, it also means that Ghostface has the gun.

Tara sobs into her hands and watches me get back up, only to flinch and freeze a second later when we hear a door being opened somewhere down the hall.

There’s no time to ponder over the gun and its whereabouts now. I spin around and take a hold of the wheelchair again.

Getting to the elevator now is too risky. It’s too far away, so I wheel Tara into the room right next to the nurses’ station.

We need help.

Tara whimpers and cries quietly while I close the door behind us. I don’t shut it all the way, just enough to hide us from plain sight while still being able to see what’s going on outside. Then, I fumble around for my phone in my sweatpants.

Just like with the gun though, I come up empty, and the realization that it must have slipped out of my pocket while watching the movie makes my heart drop.

No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.

My hands begin shaking, and it’s getting harder to keep my panic at bay.

We’re alone with a psychopathic killer, we have no way out, no help is coming, and I’m not in any shape to fight properly.

Tears well up in my eyes and I feel my bottom lip quivering. There’s no way out.

My heart starts pounding in my ears and my hands start shaking.

Please, no. Not now.

I’ve had enough panic attacks after my parents death to know what it feels like when one is about to start, and even though it sucks having them at any time, it would be especially inconvenient right now.

I force myself to calm my breaths and blink away the tears, but it doesn’t help much.

We’re trapped.

We’re alone.

I continue to focus on steadying my breathing while also keeping an ear out for any more sounds in the hallway.

That is until Tara nudges me. I clench and unclench my fists, and look at her. She has tears streaming down her face, but she’s urgently gesturing at something she can’t reach.

I follow the length of her arm with my eyes and almost start crying with relief when I spot the phone on the wall right next to the door.

I lunge for it and start dialing 911 with shaking hands only to stop a moment later when another door opens out in the hallway.

Tara clutches the back of my sweater with her uninjured hand and bites her bottom lip to prevent any more sobs from escaping her.

I flinch when another door gets opened, this time closer by, and hold my breath.

This is it. He’s here.

I lower the phone and square my shoulders, ready to fight when the door to our room suddenly swings open.

Tara yelps and I instinctively punch whoever just walked in.

“Ow!” Richie stumbles back against the doorframe and raises a hand to where my fist just connected with his jaw. “Ah, goddamn it!”

“Richie?” Tara’s pulls on the back of my sweater to get me to step out of her line of sight while I simply stare at Richie in disbelief.

I’m honestly relieved it’s just him, and that he’s here because now we’re no longer alone, but I can’t find it in myself to feel sorry for punching him.

“What are you doing here?” Tara asks as Richie continues to recover from the punch.

“Sam called,” he explains and as he continues to talk, I feel some of the tension in my body dissipate. “She said that you were in trouble.”

He doesn’t look at me when he says it, and the revelation that Sam probably only called about Tara is like a blow to the stomach.

I don’t get much time to dwell on it though because a split second later, Ghosface appears behind Richie, ready to strike with a knife in his hand.

“Look out!” I shout, stepping in front of Tara again.

Richie spins just in time to avoid getting stabbed, but the knife manages to cut his forearm. Ghostface goes in for another stab, but Richie manages to catch his wrist before he can bring the knife down on him.

He grunts and they struggle for a moment, but then Ghostface manages to grab the back of Richies head and slam him into the door frame, knocking him out.

“Shit!” I clench my jaw when Ghostface turns his attention to Tara and me, and quickly grab the IV stand next to us, flinging it at him.

Ghostface goes down because the monitor on the IV stand hits him in the head, and I rush to wheel Tara out of the room.

We’re almost back in the hallway, away from Ghostface, when he suddenly lands a punch on the back of my left knee, making my leg buckle. I stumble and manage to regain my footing without going down, but that little trip costs me a lot of precious seconds.

“Y/N!” Tara twists around in the wheelchair with wide eyes and even though I know Ghostface is now back on his feet and right behind me, it still catches me off guard when he wraps his arm around my neck from behind and punches me in the side, right below my ribs.

“Ah, fuck!” I grunt and grab his forearm, trying to pry it away from my neck, but it doesn’t budge. “Go, Tara!”

Another blow, this time to my ribs, takes my breath away, and even though I’m in pain, it fills me with an unexplainable rage.

Instead of trying to get his arm away from my neck again, I dig my heels into the ground and push backward until we hit a wall. Ghostface hisses in pain and I use the momentary distraction to get out of the headlock.

Then, I run to Tara, limping slightly and ignoring the sound of a phone ringing nearby. She’s crying and struggling to move in the wheelchair, and the sight of the blood soaked bandage around her hand makes my stomach clench.

I’m about to reach her, my arms already outstretched to grab onto the wheelchair, but then I’m tackled to the ground from behind.

My head hits the floor, making black dots dance in my vision for a moment and then my head is yanked up by my hair.

“Hold it right there, Tara,” Ghostface says, the voice changer eerily distorting his voice, “or I’ll slit Y/N’s throat.”

Tara freezes and wheels around in time to see Ghostface press the blade of his knife against my neck. He’s kneeling on my back and I know I have no way of escaping without getting my throat slit.

It stings when he pushes the knife down a little too hard, drawing some blood in the process, but I don’t dare to move.

“Y/N!” Tara cries and I try not to cough because of the weight on my back. “No, please don’t.“

“Tara, go!” I rasp, feeling the edge of the knife dig even deeper into the skin of my neck.

Tara shakes he head desperately, tears rolling down her cheeks. “No, Y/N, I—“

“Do you hear that, Sam?” Ghostface says and at the mention of Sam’s name my heart drops. He must be on the phone with her. “Your little sister and Y/N, begging for each other’s lives. Pathetic, don’t you think?”

Tara makes a move to wheel closer, but I pin her down with a stare to stop her. Go, I mouth, but Tara doesn’t move while Ghostface continues talking to Sam.

I can’t hear everything he’s saying because my ears are ringing, but when he suddenly gets off my back and approaches Tara with calculated steps, I hear him say, “So, the choice is up to you. Who is it going to be, Sam? Richie, Y/N, or Tara?”

Tara whimpers as Ghostface gets nearer, but she’s too injured to get away. She manages to turn the wheelchair around, but Ghostface is right there before she can even attempt to get away.

He grabs the handles of the chair and tips it forward forcefully, making Tara fall and land on the ground with a cry of pain.

No, not her. Not Tara. Please, anyone but her. She’s been through enough.

“Stop!” I groan, trying to get up, but slipping on something sticky on the floor. My shoulder stings and the side where Ghostface punched me burns, but I try to get back up again, and this time, I manage. On unsteady feet, I limp toward Ghostface who’s now standing over Tara.

He twirls the knife in his hand and raises his arm, getting ready to strike while Tara sobs.

“No!” I’m not going to make it. “Tara!”

Just then, the elevator dings and the doors open. Ghostface looks up, surprised, and dives out of the way when gunshots ring out.

My eyes widen at the sight of Sam and Dewey?! who dart out of the elevator.

“Tara!” Sam rushes to her sister’s side and drops to her knees, trying to help her to her feet.

“I’ll get Richie,” Dewey says, but then he freezes when his eyes land on me. “Y/N?! What are you doing here? Are you hurt?”

I wave him off and shake my head, looking around to see where Ghostface went. “Not now, I’m fine. Go get Richie, I’ll help Sam with Tara.”

“Okay.” Dewey nods and stares at me a moment longer before dashing past me to help Richie.

The last time we saw each other was at my parents’ funeral. He used to be like an uncle to me because he was friends with my dad, but after the accident, we kind of drifted apart.

Now is no time to dwell on the past though. I push through my dizziness and the pain in my side, shoulder and leg, and limp the rest of the way to Tara and Sam.

Sam’s already managed to get a crying and whimpering Tara to her feet, but Tara can’t walk with her broken leg, so as soon as I’m within reach I tug on Sam’s jacket to get her to stop dragging Tara to the elevator.

“Stop, let me help.”

Sam’s eyes widen. “Y/N, y-you’re here?”

“Of course, I’m here,” I snap, not because I’m mad but because there’s no time to talk. “Now, let’s get a move on!”

Still in disbelief, Sam doesn’t say anything else as I scoop Tara up into my arms.

“Ow,” she whines and I quickly apologize for hurting her.

I limp to the elevator with Sam hot on my heels and lean against the wall as soon as we’re inside. My legs are shaking and my entire body hurts, but I’m not letting go of Tara until we’re safe.

Sam holds the doors open while Richie and Dewey make their way to the elevator.

They’ve almost made it when, out of nowhere, Ghostface comes back, crashing into them from the side. Richie falls to the ground, and Dewey gets pushed against the wall which makes him fire his gun.

A struggle ensues between Dewey and Ghostface while Richie tries to get back up, and for a moment it looks as though Ghostface’s got the upper hand, but then Dewey headbutts him.

Ghostface stumbles back and Dewey grabs his gun off the ground, firing it at Ghostface before he can come at him again.

He stumbles back at the force of the shots hitting him in the chest until he crashes into the glass display cabinet on the opposite wall.

He sinks to the ground and stops moving, and even though I’m not convinced he’s dead, there’s no time to make sure he is. We have to get out of here as fast as possible.

Dewey must think so too because he gets to his feet and immediately pulls Richie up as well.

“Let’s get out of here,” he grunts, dragging Richie toward the elevator. “Come on, hurry up.”

They finally make it, and Richie slumps against the wall next to Sam who runs her hands over him and checks for any not-so obvious injuries.

“You okay?” she asks, her voice laced with worry.

Richie nods and exhales shakily. “Yeah, you?”

Sam nods. “Fine.” Then she turns her attention back to Tara who’s got her arms wrapped around my neck and is crying into my shoulder.

“It hurts, Sam,” she cries, and I press a kiss to her forehead while Sam takes a hold of her hand.

Dewey pushes the elevator button for the first floor, but before the doors can slide shut, he stops them with his hand and says, “The head. . .”

Richie frowns. “What?”

“You have to shoot ‘em in the head or they always come back,” Dewey explains, stepping back out of the elevator.

Sam gapes at him and asks exactly what I’m thinking. “Dewey, who gives a fuck?”

A forlorn look enters his eyes and as the doors slide shut, he says, “I do.”

“No! Dewey!” I try to step forward to stop him, but as soon as I shift my weight off the wall, my legs start trembling, so I slump back and grit my teeth.

It’s too late.

The doors close and the elevator starts descending. A tense silence settles over us for the duration of the ride, but then the doors open and Richie stumbles out first, shouting for help.

Doctors and nurses swarm us almost instantly and within seconds, a gurney is brought over and I place Tara on it.

She’s okay.

Seeing her being taken care of lifts a huge weight off my shoulders and the relief on Sam’s face makes me smile a little.

She’s going to be okay.

The dizziness I felt before suddenly returns full force now that the adrenaline is wearing off, but I can’t sit down and rest until Dewey is safe, too.

He’s up there all alone. Someone has to help him.

I stumble back to the elevator but a hand on my stomach stops me from entering it.

I look down, swaying slightly, before following the arm connect to the hand all the way up with my eyes until they land on Sam’s face.

Wait. . . Sam?

“Where are you going, Y/N?” she asks, frowning.

I blink to get rid of the irritating black dots growing in my vision and try to push past her. “D-Dewey, he needs—he needs help, Sam.”

“I know,” she says, stopping me again by grabbing a fistful of my sweater. “But you can’t go up there. The police are already on their way.”

“But. . . But Dewey,” I slur. I grasp at Sam’s hand to get her to let go of me which, much to my surprise, she actually does.

It doesn’t last long though because not even a second later my knees buckle and I fall forward, right into her arms.

“Y/N? Y/N!” Sam panics and grabs onto anything she can to stop both of us from toppling to the ground. “Oh my God, you’re hurt.”

I awkwardly slide down her body, bringing her down with me until we’re both on the floor and I’m gasping for air.

“Y/N, hey. . . Hey!” Sam grunts and manages to scramble out from underneath me before propping me up against the wall next to us. “Look at me. What’s wrong? What hurts?” she asks, but I can’t answer. My lungs suddenly feel like they’re on fire and every breath I take makes it harder to breathe.

“What happened? Did Ghostface—“ She falls silent when her eyes land on her hands and when I look down, I see why.

They’re covered in blood. My blood. But. . . how?

I think about everything that happened, and then dread settles in the pit of my stomach when the realization hits.

Ghostface wasn’t punching me. When he “hit” me all those times, he wasn’t punching me. He wasn’t punching me at all. He was stabbing me.

Welp, that explains why my side hurts so much. I thought I was going soft.

My eyes flutter shut and I cough, tasting blood in my mouth.

I guess no one noticed I was hurt until now because I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline wore off and the blood soaking my clothes wasn’t visible because both my sweater and my sweatpants are black.

“Y/N, hey! Don’t you dare close your eyes.” Sam cups my cheeks and shakes my head slightly to get me to open my eyes again. “We need some help over here!” she shouts over her shoulder before looking back at me.

She’s frantic, more frantic than I’ve ever seen her, and her eyes are filling with tears. Her hands drop off my face and she’s quick to push my sweater up to take in the extent of my injuries.

“Oh my God.” Her voice cracks and when she presses her hands against my side to slow the bleeding, I cry out in pain.

I gasp like a fish out of water, still struggling to get enough air into my lungs, and push at her hands.

“No, stop— Stop!” she protests, desperately pressing her hands against my side again.

“Hurts,” I wheeze and Sam nods frantically with tears dripping down her cheeks.

“I know, I know,” she says, “but I’m trying to help.”

I writhe in agony, but don’t try to push her off again. I don’t think I even could if I tried because with every passing moment I feel weaker.

My eyes are also threatening to close again and when Sam notices, she presses down harder on my side and shouts for help again.

This time, a nearby nurse notices and she springs into action. She rushes over, dragging a doctor with her and tells another nurse to bring a gurney.

I don’t focus on her though. No, I keep my attention on Sam and how she’s desperately try to stop my bleeding.

She’s crying, covered in blood, and on the verge of hyperventilating, but she’s still beautiful.

So beautiful. . .

I cough again just as the nurse and doctor drop down next to me, and when Sam takes her hands away so they can examine me, I give into the urge to close my eyes.

_______________________________________________

Whew! I wrote this in one sitting, and only proofread it once, so please excuse any mistakes I may have made/overlooked.

Tag list: @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @bella423

[gotta-winwin]

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special teaser

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air. 

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

🐻‍❄️ release date: christmas day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ i just know i'm going to have sm fun writing this cuz the dynamic is so interesting! its already giving christmas romcom vibes and omg you guys are not ready.

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003: 

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground. 

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?” 

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised. 

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word. 

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.” 

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.” 

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned. 

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.” 

--

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met. 

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.” 

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024: 

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene. 

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister. 

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

[grayve-mistake]

It's good to know how to protect yourself, but I agree that a lot of people take it way too far. I think the best general rule is; Like the first person said, highly populated areas during the day are generally safest for the first few dates. Cafe, movie, restaurant, picnic at the park, whatever suits you. As long as there's cameras and people and it's not the middle of the night. Shoot someone a text about where you are if it makes you more comfortable but it's generally not necessary to be too stressed about it. NEVER go to a bar or a club with a guy/date without telling anyone. Yes, even if you're gay, mlm and wlw dates aren't always safe either. Tell people where you are and when you plan on coming home, don't take your eyes off your drink. Common sense. Never go to a house or secluded location unless you know the person REALLY really well. Shoot someone a text letting them know where you are beforehand. If you get a bad gut feeling to the point where you feel the need to use a million extra security measures, just listen to your feelings, make an excuse, say "sorry i have to go, thanks for your time", and politely leave. Don't try to push through it or make it work if you're getting a bad vibe. Just end the date early, don't bother with a million extra paranoid measures. You're better off just going home if you feel unsafe. If you think someone's following you home, drive around a block a few times to confirm they're actually following you, then drive towards a police station. Usually they'll back off.

You don't need a million self defense devices and gadgets. Learn some basic maneuvers, keep one or two REASONABLE self defense tools at most if necessary. You only really need any of this stuff if you're walking home alone at night a lot. You don't need a million alarms and locks in your house either, they're probably more dangerous than whatever threat you're trying to protect yourself from. Simple latches on your doors and windows will usually do just fine, especially if you're not in a high-crime area (most of the women posting their elaborate security systems online, nay, the only people that can AFFORD elaborate security are white people in a nice little middle class neighborhood with white picket fences. They have nothing to be scared of). You don't need 50 guns, you don't need a husband with you 24/7, most of you don't need 10 alarms or 100 different locks on your door and barricaded windows that'll be real inconvenient when you're in a housefire or a more realistic emergency. Let loose a little. enjoy your life. Go on a cute date without checking your phone 80 times. Live in the moment for a change. It's ok. A while ago I had to walk a mile in the dark after a long shift at work. I share transportation with someone and I live too far away to just walk home, but they had the car, and we worked in the same town so I thought I'd just walk over and ask for the keys instead of waiting around for the next few hours for them to get off their late night shift. The sun went down before I left, it was quiet, dark, and there were lots of run down houses. I passed by a few strangers on the way there. You wanna know what happened? Nothing. Well, my legs were tired and I got a few stickers stuck to my shoes. But other than that, nothing. Did I have the means to defend myself if I had to? Yeah. I keep a couple practical things on me just-in-case. But I've never needed them, and hopefully I never will.

You know the most dangerous thing I encountered on that walk? The lack of fucking sidewalks and crosswalks. Had to strategically dart across some very busy roads and watched a guy slam on his brakes past the white line because he was going to run a red light until he saw me step forward a bit. The danger was not the random guy or two I saw walking around, probably in a similar situation as me, and minding their business. If you want to make your city safer, advocate for better walkability or public transit, lmao.



i'm sorry the self-victimization of some women i see online is crazyyyyy, they're saying shit like "yeah being a woman is so crazy, if you go on a date you have to text his full name and picture to your friend, and also where you're meeting, and share your location throughout the date, and check in hourly" girl the only safety measure you need is meeting in a populated place. that man is NOT going to kidnap you from Popular Cafe on Well-Frequented Street in broad daylight at 2pm. i promise. do you go forest hiking as a first date or what the fuck.

[wxxpingangxls]

YAYO

+content/warnings; gun play, mentions of guns, allusions of cheating, perverted behavior, getting caught, lap grinding??

boyfriend's icky dad toji who always told his son that girls weren't shit, men weren't piss and money was where it was at, until he met you.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who leers at you every time you're over, insisting that you stay longer to "keep megumi company".

boyfriend's icky dad toji who suprisingly puts a lot of effort into his appearance every time he hears your coming over, shaving his beard, even going as far as to making home cooked meals that he notes you love so much.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who always praises you for helping do the dishes and tidying up, claiming that one day he was going to give you a reward for being so good to him ( and megumi i guess ).

boyfriend's icky dad toji who takes any chance he can to get his grimy hands onto your soft and sweet skin, even going as far as to put his hands on your waist as you're doing the dishes.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who makes sure to check on you (and megumi) whenever you were sleeping around, just to make sure the two of you were ok, even though he'd never done that before when it was just megumi.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who, every time you can't sleep invites you to watch a movie with his until you get sleepy, watching those tiny shorts crawl up your fat ass.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who takes all the chances he can to 'acciedentally' walk in on your undressing, before you catch on and start locking the door.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes gloss over as he tells you the story of megumi's mother and why he was so stoic and stone-faced.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who has to physcially stop himself from grabbing you and fucking you hard, knocking the wind out of you and stuffing your cunt full.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who wonders if you're on birth control, but then the image of you pregnant with his child comes to mind and suddenly his mouth starts watering.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who starts to let his mind wonder every time he sees you, imaging your stuffed cunny leaking his cum, with your big tummy carrying his child.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who doesn't even feel bad about feeling this way towards his son's girlfriend and gets sloppy when trying to hide it.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who, whenever you're in the shower takes a pair of your dirty panties and stuffs them in his pockets, and whenever you ask him about his dodgy laundry he always alludes to megumi stealing your stuff.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who gets caught jerking off with a pair of cute panties on his face by his son, claiming they were from a one night stand.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who not only sniffs these underwear that he's stolen but full on soaks them with his saliva before drenching them in his thick semen.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who starts having wet dreams about you and realises something is really wrong, and he needs to do something about this.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who finds himself humping the erection away at the mere thought of you and figures that maybe just sleeping with you once will be enough to satiate his insatiable hunger.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who shows you his gun collection when megumi's out at a party that you couldn't attend because of a sprained ankle, in an attempt to cheer you up.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes light up as he promises to take you shooting one day if you're good - whatever that means.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who watches your eyes tear up and voice break as you begin to explain how his son was fucking around with someone else.

boyfriend's icky sticky dad toji who suddenly wishes to take back everything he'd taught his son, seeing how bad that mentality had fucked him over.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who tries to make you feel better but the only way he can think to do that is to suck on your pretty lil' clit.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who nearly chokes on his beer when you tell him that you and megumi were back together with the same mouth you used to suckle on his cock.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who swears up and down that he could do you better than his son ever could, despite every thought in his head telling him how disgusting that was.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who genuinely believes he could treat you better than any man your age, he swears he'll spoil you despite not even having a good paying job.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who figures that since your so keen on being an independent girl, he should show you how good it'll feel to have a real man by your side.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who aches and yearns and feigns for your soft lips on his, and finally convinces you to lay and relax while he shows you how a real man treats you.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who is undeniably shocked when he finds out that megumi rarely went down on you especially when you cunt was so juicy and sweet.

boyfriend's icky dad toji who is even more shocked when you suggest grinding on his thigh with a gun to your head, watching as you leak and ooze and drip all over on to his plaid pants.

He watched intently, eyes thinning, as your tits jiggled with each grind of your hips against his flexed thigh. One hand on your throat and another holding a gun to your head. Whether it was loaded or not you had no idea, but that was all part of the sick thrill you had flowing through your veins. Megumi had told you all about his father's sick work and the different escapades he'd been on, but having put a gun to your head was an entirely different experience.

It was deliriously sick, twisted and sinister even. It was beyond demented and dangerous. What if his finger slipped on the trigger? Your brains were sure to be blown out of the back of your head. Maybe that was why drool seeped from between your pouted lips and tears welled up in your eyes. Maybe that's why your nose was all scrunched up and sniffly while your cheeks and ears were hot red.

Your hips tried embarrassingly hard to keep up with the bouncing of his leg but it was like no matter how hard you grinded, you couldn't cum. Was it the fear of having you tongue blown out of the back of your cranium? No, it wasn't that. After all, this was all your idea.

As sweet and innocent as you looked, your eyes held a certain insatiable and disturbing thirst behind them. Not the some what normal fantasy of being held by a signifacntly older man while he rearrgenged your guts, but the idea of danger. Crossing the line between right and wrong.

It wasn't as if you didn't shove your used, slick and dirty underwear all the way to the depth's of Toji's throat just to suck the soul out of his hard cock, dribbling messily all over it, disgustingly spluttering and making a hot mess of yourself all over him while he sat there choking on your panties like a whore. Your cunt was throbbing, and your throat hurt like nothing before as you coughed and constricted around him numerous times before gulping his hot and thick load down shamlessly.

So why now, after being to desperate you flick and play with your cunt, could you not get off on Toji? You whined and squirmed and sobbed and cried, feeling nothing but frustation as your fists balled up on the creases of his pants. Your whimpers died down in your sore throat and Toji's hand against it did nothing to soothe the ache.

A part of him relished in watching you struggle to get off, watching a pretty young thing like you yearn for his help with your eyes. He felt a certain urge however, to flip you over and shove his filthy dick between your - no doubt - sopping folds, and show you how good girls get rewarded, but felt as if you needed to be warmed up first. "You need help, beautiful?" he finally spoke after long minutes of watching your pathetic and helpless cries simmer down in your throat.

You groaned out, squinted your eyes in an attempt to ask if he was being serious with his stupid question, hips occasionally stuttering. "Hey, hey, relax baby..." he soothed, removing his hand from your throat despite the hand with his gun never moving from your head. His hand slowly moved from your neck down as his thumb brushes against your nipple and placed his hand on your hip.

"Take it slowly, ok princess?" he reassured. A part of you was surely confused. This whole time Toji had been nothing but sadistic with you. The two of you were as equally as sadistic with each other, you tying his hand up whilst riding his cock to no end. But now he was guiding you towards an orgasm. "Thereee you go, sweets," his hand that was once on your hip now cupped your face as he moved closer, nose in the crock of your neck. This was intimate to say the least, and you were sure he was going to come up to give upon those beautifully glazed lips.

You whined out loud, feeling his breath tickle your neck, but that was the least of your problems as now you could surely feel a big wave coming. Toji saw as your hips twitched and your toes curled and uncurled: "Oh? Are you gonna cum, sweet girl?" He could feel your naked cunt throbbing hard on his clothed thigh. He immediately sat up, green eyes on your own big ones, watching as you silently pleaded. Pleaded for what, you had no idea, but he surely did.

He knew you wanted to make a massive mess all over his trouses. Completely soak him in your sticky fluids and watch as he gets turned on even more. With every exhale you made, his pupils dilated even more, as if he was getting higher and higher on your impending orgasm. His hand never once left your face and with every deliberate roll of your hips, he pushed that cold metal gun further into your skull.

You stuttered out cries of his name, before attempting to stand up. It was far too much for you, and your orgasm was going too soon. But you were too slow, for his entire arm snaked around your waist, keeping you on his lap, watching as you soaked his leg with your cum. You gushed uncontrollably, begging Toji to let you go as he just snickered in your ear, telling you to hush down and stop freaking out.

He figured that this must've been the first time you've squirted, as you're shaking non stop. Your mascara was dried up on your cheeks and lip gloss all smudged from earlier. Almost ironically, as you came down from your intense high, the outro to Floods by Pantera came on the radio.

Toji was a sick and an icky man, and he lay in seamed in your fluids with zero shame, while his son lay asleep in the next room. He watched as you took in hard and deep laboured breaths, still trying to compose yourself. I guess now you knew how he felt when you went down on him. Him seeing you squirt all over him, confirmed the thought of wanting to see you stuffed full with his own icky fluids. He finally moved the gun from your head before placing it down.

"Would you have really shot me?" you whispered out, voice still coarse.

"Are you crazy? That gun was empty." He scoffed, scratching his stubble.

"That's a stupid question, Toji, and I would've loved for the gun to be filled to the brim," Your cunt throbbed as you imagined Toji's huge cock pounding you hard, hefty arms keeping you in place.