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feeder86 · 2 years

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Making Monsters: Part 2: Unleash the Beast

The timing of Tommy’s injury couldn’t have been better for Jimmy. Carrie’s course had taken her away on a work placement for the rest of the semester, and poor old Tommy had been left to fend for himself. As the captain of the football team, there were plenty of people who would have been more than willing to assist. However, it was Jimmy who had taken it upon himself to take the reins and do whatever he could.

It was such a turn on going shopping for Tommy, who would present him with a list almost every day. Jimmy had such a thrill, beefing up the shopping bags with little treats he had paid for himself: a couple of packs of doughnuts, extra cookies, milkshakes and sodas. He added anything and everything he could to up the calories and carbs for Tommy who, for the first time in his life, was being forced to become more sedentary for the sake of his injury.

It was through these constant trips that Jimmy finally started to get some sort of understanding of just how much Tommy ate each day. The guy was a walking trash can, a sinkhole; a pig. There was nothing else that could be said about the vast quantities he consumed, without care or concern for getting back in shape after the injury was healed.

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” Tommy chuckled as he unpacked more sweet treats from his bags of shopping.

“And what’s that exactly?” Jimmy smiled flirtatiously back.

“You’re trying to fatten me up so I look better in my football kit when I can play again,” he smirked back. “You want me to turn into one of those freakishly fat guys you love to date and parade around here.”

Jimmy shrugged and smirked as well. “There’s nothing wrong with me having a little of my own fun while you’re out of action,” he asserted; still allowing that flirtation to glide smoothly through his voice.

Tommy opened the pack of doughnuts and sank half of one into his mouth. He moaned with pleasure, swallowing quickly and then forced the second half in; preloading the next one in his enormous hand. He nodded at Jimmy, replying with a mouthful of the tasty treat; “It’s your money,” he shrugged apathetically. “Who am I to tell you what to do with it?”

“Dude? What the fuck?” Paul grumbled as he entered Tommy’s room a couple of weeks later. The guy looked around at the mess: the empty packaging, the bottles of beer and untidiness. Tommy himself looked unkempt and unwashed. He’d been at the beer a little while before Jimmy and Paul came over and his stomach already seemed a little bloated from the gas. At least, Jimmy assumed it was a bloat.

“It’s fucking gross in here, dude,” Paul shot, without a single sign of good humour or joviality. Tommy let off a deep, throaty burp that was almost deafening, and unbelievably long. The sound and meaning behind it, gave Jimmy an instant erection, and he laughed encouragingly.

Paul, on the other hand, seemed genuinely disgusted. “You’ve got to get a fucking grip, man!” he mumbled. “Take a damn shower!”

Tommy shrugged it off and they began playing, but Paul’s comments and criticisms were coming in thick and fast throughout the evening. Tommy seemed beaten down by the end of it, his mood flat and defensive as the evening drew to a close; arguing with Paul and debating the supposed need for him to do a little light exercise while his injury was healing.

“Don’t get pissy with me, just because you’ve broken up with your girlfriend,” Tommy finally snapped when nothing else seemed to work.

Jimmy nodded. For the first time, he wished he could just shut Paul up. Tommy was having a little fun embracing a new, temporary lifestyle. What was so wrong about that?

On the other hand, Paul was hurt and not particularly in the best frame of mind to be socialising. It happened every time. He fell hard for girls, and when they disappointed him, he found it hard to pick himself back up again.

However, Tommy was never going to embrace that secret side of himself with guys like Paul berating him the moment he stepped out of line. Jimmy thought hard on the matter all night, wondering what there was to do about this. He could hardly stop Paul from having his opinion on the matter, any more than he could sort out the guy’s love life for him.

But, maybe, he thought, feeling more excited as the idea built up momentum in his mind. Maybe there was something he could do after all…

Edith was a beautiful girl, everyone knew that. Plus, she was now on the market for a ‘normal’ guy; someone away from her kinks and not her usual type. It was the most devious and cunning Jimmy had ever been, setting up situations for them to bump into each other and meet. He praised and upsold Edith or Paul in turn. But, best of all, it had worked like a charm. Before long, the ‘new girl’ Paul had taken an interest in, had suddenly become his girlfriend.

“Paul’s not coming tonight,” Jimmy smiled, passing Tommy a beer and a pack of potato chips. “He’s out with Edith.”

Tommy chuckled, in the way all guys do when one of their buddies gets a new girlfriend. “So I spent twenty minutes cleaning up my room for nothing?” he joked, pulling more of his snacks out from his closet and scattering them on the floor for later. “At least I don’t need to pretend to be civilised in front of you,” he scoffed.

Jimmy gave a conspiratorial grin back. “No, but Carrie will be back in a couple of weeks. So, this whole slob thing you’ve got going on…” he pointed teasingly at Tommy, “...you may need to rethink it.”

“Oh, she’s already got an idea of what’s been going on whilst she’s been away,” Tommy laughed, dishing out the cards. “We video call a couple of nights a week. She thinks my face has gone fatter!”

Jimmy chuckled to himself, knowing that he was more than a little responsible for the extra puffiness to Tommy’s cheeks. It was subtle, but Carrie was certainly right; something was altered about Tommy’s face. “How do you think training is going to be when you have to go back to that?”

Tommy huffed. “I don’t know, man. I’ve hardly moved at all since the injury. It’ll probably take me some time to get back into it. No doubt Paul will have something to say about that…” he huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry so much about Paul,” Jimmy grinned. He was so proud of himself, setting the guy up with Edith. It took all of his effort not to boast about what a cunning bit of manipulative play he had achieved. Edith claimed that she was retired from being a feeder, but Jimmy knew better than that. The girl’s kinks were so deep and powerful; so ingrained and implicit, there was no way she would be able to restrain herself from working some of her magic on Paul. That was, after all, the genius of his plan.

“Why not?” Tommy questioned, sensing from Jimmy’s tone that there was more to the story. “You heard him, getting on his high horse about me not exercising.”

“Oh, nothing,” Jimmy replied coyly. “It’s just, you know, guys always gain a few pounds when they start a new relationship. Plus, according to Daryl, he’s already missed two training sessions this week. I wouldn’t bet on him being quite so sprightly by the time you’re both back on the pitch…”

Jimmy had to admit that, when he was right about something, he was really right. By the time Tommy’s injury was just about healed, the effects of dating a feeder for over a month were truly taking their toll on poor Paul. He seemed thicker somehow, like his face and stomach had been pumped with a little air, and his clothes seemed less complimentary than they had before. Not that Jimmy saw him all that often these days. The boy was besotted with his new girl, slowly drifting away from the dorm antics and more often found over in Edith’s building.

“You must be pleased with yourself,” Jimmy smirked as he popped in to see Edith. “I just passed Paul on the stairs…”

Edith looked away and pretended not to know about anything Jimmy was referring to, even trying to change the conversation. But as Jimmy pressed, she finally relented. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to cook for my new boyfriend,” she explained, with only a mild hint of irritation in her voice.

“Oh, so that’s how you’re doing it? You’re feeding him those super fattening meals you used to make for Drake?” Jimmy laughed. “No wonder the poor boy is looking so bloated!”

Edith bit her bottom lip in the same manner that she always did when aroused. “You really think he’s looking bloated?” she asked excitedly.

“He seems pretty smitten by you,” Jimmy continued. “I doubt he’s even noticed how out of shape you’re making him.”

“I didn’t intend to do this,” Edith shot back in her defence. “It’s just, when he eats, I get so horny. And when I get horny, he gets horny. It’s created this strange cycle that I don’t think either of us completely understand.”

“Well, whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it,” Jimmy encouraged, wickedly. “It’s about time some of the guys on that football team gained a few pounds.” He thought about Tommy and how much more relaxed he had become about his weight and eating habits. “And…” he continued, unable to help the grin coming to his face “...I’m hoping that one little porker might lead to another…”

Tommy had returned to football training full of determination, despite the surprisingly distended arch of his muscular middle. The boy had clearly been enjoying himself over the period. But, there he was now, dressed in his workout gear and ready to shed the pounds that he had gained since that fateful night in training last November; indulging himself as he had done. On a man as large as Tommy it was hard to tell what the damage could have been: thirty pounds, forty? Would the slight muscle loss counteract it? Would there be any difference on the scale at all?

“My, my, my! How the mighty have fallen!” Jimmy teased, seeing Tommy wincing a little as he trotted into the kitchen, holding his hip. “You’re like an old man!”

Tommy seemed incapable of answering until he’d sat himself down in the chair. Only then did his sparky wit return. “Shut up!” he chuckled. “Why don’t you come along to football training and then we’ll see how you cope? I’ve not been for nearly three months, remember.”

Unable to help himself, Jimmy reached in and poked Tommy’s stomach, squishing his finger into the surprisingly soft middle. “And you’d never guess either!” he teased sarcastically.

“Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll soon have this off,” Tommy stated with absolute certainty. “At least I’m better than Paul. He didn’t even show up last night. That girlfriend of his has got him wrapped around her little finger.”

Jimmy nodded in agreement. Edith was definitely having some fun with the boy. “Well, I don’t think you would be so desperate to get back in shape if you didn’t have Carrie nagging you.”

“She’s definitely made her feelings very clear,” Tommy mumbled, rubbing his meatier stomach.

“Exactly!” Jimmy nodded. “Imagine having someone who liked you having a little more padding on that butt of yours.”

Tommy jumped in confusion, not even taking in Jimmy’s subtle hint that Edith might have her own feeder tendencies. “My butt’s just the same!” he protested; too lazy to get up and feel it himself, despite an obvious inclination to do so.

Jimmy smiled and shook his head. “I’ve been feeding you doughnuts every day for months. Trust me, your butt is definitely feeling the effects…”

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Tommy smiled, shaking his head and chuckling.

“Of course I am,” Jimmy nodded, getting Tommy’s huge breakfast bowl from the cupboard and placing it down on the table in front of the sore athlete. He smiled, then tipped the huge box of sugary cereal inside, filling it with as much as he could. Tommy should have laughed, told him to stop, or pulled the bowl away; but he didn’t. Instead, he stared with interest directly into Jimmy’s eyes, quietly enjoying every second of it.

By the middle of Spring, Tommy was the campus hero. Despite Paul’s gradual abandonment of the squad, Tommy had single-handedly seen to it that the college football team had performed the most remarkable of turnarounds. From the bottom of the pack, the team were now comfortably sitting within the top quarter of the league, having not lost a game in three months. “Coach says, whatever I’m doing, I’ve just got to keep doing it!” Tommy grinned, getting himself a large tub of ice cream out of the freezer.

You could really see it these days, that extra weight. The way Tommy’s cheeks puffed up, and the softening of his strong jawline. His body was built for football now. Even with a shirt on, it was obvious that the abs were long gone; replaced with a meaty stomach that gave him the appearance of a man a good few years older than he was. ‘Dadbod’ was the term his girlfriend used to describe it; for while his arms and shoulders advertised how strong and warrior-like Tommy was, his bloated, slightly arching middle spoke of a man with a considerable appetite.

But Tommy’s coach had learned, along with the rest of the team, that his star didn’t need to be built for speed. He just needed to be able to flatten the competition. Being big, strong and, most importantly, intimidating, was where Tommy’s true talents lay. That was why Carrie bit her tongue as Tommy dug his massive spoon into the ice cream. Jimmy could see it, that urge to stop him, to argue and complain at how easily her boyfriend was sliding into these bad habits. However, Tommy was also the best known guy on campus now; the guy that other guys looked up to, with an effortless masculinity that girls secretly loved. Being with Tommy gave Carrie what she desperately craved: to be seen as relevant in this strange student world. On a campus that was obsessed with the college football team, Tommy was Carrie’s gateway to being at the centre of their shared, dysfunctional universe.

As for Jimmy, he couldn’t have been more pleased, or turned on, by the unfolding transformation of one of his best friends. Tommy was such a sexy guy, but to see him packing on so much extra mass through his overeating… it sent Jimmy into overdrive whenever he was around him.

“Well, I never thought I would see the day that Paul would give up football. But, somehow, you managed it,” Jimmy chuckled as he had Edith alone with him for the first time in months.

Edith smiled sweetly at just the mention of Paul’s name. “We just don’t want to be parted from each other,” she stated with a sickening sweetness in her voice.

“Have you told him you’re making him fatter yet?” Jimmy asked, teasingly.

Edith frowned at Jimmy’s bluntness. “I’m not making him fatter,” she countered.

Jimmy laughed at that. “Well, you’re sure as hell doing something to the poor boy!” he pressed on. “I’ve never seen a pot belly develop so quickly!”

Despite herself, Edith gave a little smile. “I just like looking after him, that’s all. He loves how attentive I am. He says so himself! He tells everyone how perfect I am for him!”

“Does that mean you’re heading back with him to meet his folks this summer?” Jimmy asked her.

“Actually, he’s coming to spend the summer with me instead.”

Jimmy rolled his eyes theatrically but delighted in the plans nonetheless. “Oh, yes, of course!” he continued teasing his friend. “A whole summer to overfeed him! With you around, he’ll be waddling around campus by Fall!”

Edith brushed Jimmy’s comments away, knowing just as well as he did that Jimmy was simply jealous. He’d have done almost anything to have his own fat boy to overindulge. But Jimmy’s problem was a simple one: There was only one fat boy that he wanted.

The third year was in full swing before the boys all managed to get together. Already, Tommy had amassed a new following of freshers; young, muscular guys who wanted to join the football team and looked up to Tommy, with his massive height, muscle and bulk, like some sort of god. Jimmy noticed him eating lavishly in front of these guys, like he was showing off how ridiculously much he could eat and still be the best player on the team. He was still dating one of the hottest girls on campus and had friends in every corner of the university. What wasn’t there to be impressed with?

The boys were a rowdy bunch this year; overly excited by beer and the freedom to stay up partying. But without much effort at all, Tommy managed to out-do them all in pretty much any conceivable way. No one could come close to defeating him at an arm wrestle, or outwit him with their humour. Tommy knew more about football than any one of them and, to the guys’ astonishment, could take down more bottles of beer than any of them could even imagine.

The night was raucous and unruly. Jimmy cringed at the thought of those trying to sleep in the rooms above or below them, for the guys’ cheers and shouts went on well into the early hours; only ending when Tommy won his final beer chug of the night,sending the other guy off, racing for a bathroom to throw up in.

Tommy looked up at Jimmy from his chair at the table. As usual, they were the last two standing; just as it had been since day one of their first year. They shared a smirk; the familiarity that they had built up together; always knowing that the evening would end up like this. “These guys just have no idea how to party, do they?” Tommy joked, staring around the now empty kitchen space at three in the morning.

Jimmy hadn’t been this drunk since his first year. The room was only one shot away from spinning all around him. He stared, as if unable to control his gaze any longer, straight at Tommy’s gut. “Jeez! I’ve never seen you look so fucking fat and bloated before!” he heard himself marvel.

Tommy chuckled in delight and slapped his tight, solid middle, packed full of the beer and snacks he had ruthlessly been consuming the entire evening. “Beer does a belly good!” he joked back, rubbing the ball-like shape and looking down at it with a masculine pride.

“No, seriously,” Jimmy pressed, sensing that Tommy was making light of it. “Your belly… it’s getting huge! I think it’s now growing beyond even your control!”

Tommy looked up, directly into Jimmy’s eyes. “Oh, yeah?” he smiled, undoubtedly encouraging Jimmy to go on. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s just…” Jimmy began, unable to contain that breathless lust in his voice as he spoke, “...you’re getting so fucking round!”

Tommy grinned and rubbed his gut, as if teasing Jimmy with something he could never have. “Two hundred and ninety pounds!” he whispered, almost seductively. But the rubbing was clearly upsetting the balance somewhere, making Tommy sit up, open his jaws and give off the most tremendous burp; as if it had been building and waiting the entire evening to be unleashed. When he was done, the man leaned back, looking more smug than ever before.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Jimmy teased. “But, judging by what I’ve seen tonight: the amount of food and beer you’ve taken down, the fact that you hardly got off your overfed ass all night… I’d say you’re only a few months away from being too fat to even play football.”

The comment seemed to catch Tommy by surprise and the self-satisfied smirk dropped off his face entirely.

Jimmy moved closer, emboldened by the alcohol coursing through his system, and stabbed an outstretched finger into Tommy’s gut, bloated and hard from the sheer quantities that had been consumed. Tommy simply watched him, his face expressionless but for the raising of a single, unimpressed eyebrow. All evening he had been respected like a king by the other athletes. Now, here was this skinny, jumped-up gay guy stabbing him in his gut and telling him how fat he was getting. “Definitely!” Jimmy nodded. “A few more months of this and you’re getting kicked off the team, for sure!”

“You think I’m just going to turn into some fat boy?” Tommy asked, unable to hide the slight spark of excitement in his voice.

“Oh. you’re already a fat boy!” Jimmy teased, poking a finger into Tommy’s stomach fat once again, but also fishing out his cell phone to find something he had stored on there. “I found a picture the other day. It’s what I think you’re going to look like in a couple of years from now; when college is over and your football days are long behind you. It’ll just be you and that awesome, greedy appetite of yours…”

With that, Jimmy turned around his cell phone to show Tommy the image. It had taken months time to find it online; one of the exact pictures he had seen on Tommy’s computer, of a ginormous overweight guy: ball-bellied, wide and at least five hundred pounds of pure blubber.

Tommy’s reaction was immediate. His eyes bulged to an enormous size as he took in the picture that he knew so well. He made a noise that seemed entirely out of his control: part moan of pleasure, part expression of absolute shock. His hands twitched, with both of them sliding onto his thighs and getting dangerously close to his crotch.

“You think that’s what I’m going to become?” Tommy asked. His voice was so much softer and lust-filled than Jimmy had ever heard it.

“There’s no doubt in my mind,” Jimmy grinned, leaning in a little more to whisper into Tommy’s ear. “And I can’t fucking wait to see it!”

Another moan escaped from Tommy’s throat and the boy suddenly turned, grabbing the front of Jimmy’s shirt to pull him down into him. Their lips puckered and they shared the most erotic and action-packed kiss either of them had ever experienced. Almost two years of sexual tension and the pair of them were moving fast, pushing their tongues deeply into the other’s mouth. Hands were roaming everywhere and it was only when Tommy stood up that Jimmy could once again appreciate the scale of the man he had just seduced. They continued madly kissing as they left the kitchen, heading straight for Jimmy’s room, which was two doors closer down the corridor.

Tommy seemed to be the one leading it all. Once safely inside, the pair stripped down to nothing at all and fell down onto Jimmy’s single bed.

The alcohol fuddled Jimmy’s memory from that point onwards.From what he could remember of the sex, he came pretty hard. Tommy did too, judging by the moans he was making. Led by Tommy, it had been fairly unimaginative; a typical straight guy, deciding to head straight to the sixty-nine position and stay there until they both came. The feeling sent them both to sleep very soon afterwards, and after only a couple of hours of rest, Jimmy awoke to find that Tommy had already gone.

It hadn’t been a dream though, Jimmy realised with a sudden erection at the memories of what had taken place. He could still smell the enormous football player on his sheets and remembered the feeling of his impressive hardness in his mouth. He came at least twice more, before drifting back off to sleep until lunchtime.

Jimmy was determined that it wouldn’t be awkward. Tommy’s disappearance in the middle of the night was not the best of signs, and Jimmy wasn’t naive enough to believe that Tommy would suddenly leave Carrie, quit football and want to be with him full-time. The best he could hope for was that Tommy wouldn’t do the typically embarrassed tactic of ignoring him altogether. That was why he didn’t give the guy a chance to even try it. He burst into the kitchen with a smile on his face, chatting with everyone and treating Tommy in just the same way as he always did. “Eating again, I see…” he teased in front of everyone. “You’re going to cause an earthquake the next time you go for a goal!”

If Tommy had seemed sheepish at all, Jimmy’s breezy, laid back approach hopefully demonstrated that, in his view, nothing had changed between them. But of that, he was completely wrong. Everything had changed.

“I’ve got a whole cheesecake in my room,” Tommy messaged Jimmy one evening later that week.

“Good for you,” Jimmy replied back, smiling with the knowledge of why Tommy was telling him, and what he was probably thinking about doing about it.

“Come over and feed it to me,” Tommy messaged back instantly. “Carrie’s not coming here tonight.”

Leaving his essay work, Jimmy checked himself in the mirror, frowning at how unruly his short hair had been that day. He opened his door and crept across the corridor, seeing that Tommy had left his own door open to save him having to knock. Music was playing at a decent volume; heavy metal with deep, manly voices growling out of the speakers. Jimmy laughed when he saw the size of the huge cheesecake and the excited, horny grin on Tommy’s face. They kissed as soon as the door was closed, which allowed Jimmy to feel just how turned on and delighted the large athlete was to be doing this.

The big man slipped off his shirt and practically bounced onto the bed. He’d already padded up his pillows against the headboard, and as he sat up, waiting expectantly, the most delicious roll of fat fell over the buckle of his belt.

“Come feed me!” Tommy sang. He pinched the softened, most blubbery part of his belly fat, jiggling it gently. “Make my fat belly grow!”

Jimmy grinned and removed his own shirt, pleased that Tommy made a sound of appreciation as he did so. Picking up the plate with the enormous cheesecake on, Jimmy sat himself down straight onto Tommy’s crotch. He could feel how hard the guy was but decided not to comment, for his own arousal was clearly obvious and his heart was beating a mile a minute with the anticipation of what would come next.

It started in a fairly civilised manner. Jimmy dug the fork in and delivered chunks of the extremely fattening dessert straight into Tommy’s open mouth. Each time, Tommy moaned with pleasure and smiled as if he had been waiting for a moment such as this his entire life. The conversation was almost normal, with Tommy explaining about football training and other scandalous news about some of the guys they both knew.

“Well, I certainly feel like I’m doing my bit for the team right now,” Jimmy chuckled, placing another chunk of the cheesecake directly onto Tommy’s tongue.

“What you’re doing is pretty much the opposite of what the team needs,” Tommy chuckled back, enjoying that fact. “You said it yourself; you want to make me too fat to play football at all!”

Jimmy smirked. “I did say something like that, didn’t I?” he teased, trying to push through the fog of memories from their night together. “I don’t understand why you keep playing. Just quit and get fat if that’s what you want?”

“My dad was the one who got me into football,” Tommy explained. “I was a greedy kid; always eating. He told me he didn’t want the embarrassment of having a fatty for a son, so he tried to channel me into sport instead.” A cheeky, boyish smile filled Tommy’s face as he grabbed his fresh, soft belly fat and gave it another little jiggle. “It was a good short-term fix!”

As Jimmy sat over Tommy’s crotch, he could feel the guy’s hardness throb as their conversation returned once more to his inevitable fattening. “So, you’re absolutely serious then? You really do want to get properly big and fat?”

Tommy moaned once again and inhaled deeply, as if Jimmy’s words both excited and calmed him at the same time. “More than anything!” he nodded. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, for as long as I can remember.”

Jimmy simply nodded back, deciding that Tommy didn’t need to know that he had hacked into his computer and found the pictures of the massively obese guys Tommy had been dreaming about becoming. “Well, in that case…” he smirked, throwing the fork down. “I think we need to get serious about this cheesecake!”

Tommy's eyes were wide with awe as he watched Jimmy dig his hand into the dessert and scoop it into his palm. He seemed to know what was coming next, as Jimmy moved his hand closer to Tommy’s obediently open mouth and pushed it inside, being sure to smear some over the boy’s lips.

Tommy moaned louder still. “Mmm! Yes!” he mumbled. “Feed me!”

It was the best game Jimmy had ever played. Each time, he tried to get more and more into his hand. He pushed it onto the horny boy and sat back waiting the few seconds it took Tommy to get it down. Jimmy expected Tommy to start tiring, but it seemed as if the opposite was happening. The smaller the remaining cake became, the hungrier the man seemed to become for it, and the more excited he was to finish.

Feeling how hard Tommy was beneath him, Jimmy knew exactly what he wanted to do. Taking off his pants and sliding protection and lubricant onto Tommy’s raging boner, Jimmy didn’t resume the feeding until he was sat directly on Tommy’s erection and could feel the big guy inside of him. Now Tommy’s eyes were closed, as if he was barely able to function with this much pleasure pulsing through his body.

Just like last time, Jimmy knew it wouldn’t take Tommy long to come. He’d already had to slow down his riding movement in order to prevent the athlete getting overly excited before the cheesecake was finished. Only once the final crumbs were being sprinkled on Tommy’s face, did Jimmy finally work his butt to make Tommy finish. The boy groaned and moaned like he was almost in pain; the intensity of the orgasm must have been so very much for him. His body seemed to writhe and the man even lifted his strong hips clean off the bed, with Jimmy too, just as the pleasure was peaking.

“You did well,” Jimmy smiled, climbing off and getting his clothes back on.

“Thanks,” said an utterly spent Tommy, sprawled on his bed, with remnants of the cheesecake still smeared across his face, like he was some sort of gluttonous clown.

Jimmy had no intention of lingering. He couldn’t think of anything worse than the awkward, post-orgasm chit chat to finish the evening. Better to head off now and leave the moment as it was. “Well, give me a call the next time you need stuffing,” he smiled.

“I will,” Tommy promised, still not getting up and simply lying there like his stomach was a lead weight. But then the man seemed to come to life a little and he said something that Jimmy was not expecting in the slightest: “How about next Tuesday?”

It was strange, and Jimmy wasn’t sure that anyone would have believed him if he said it, but his new, highly sexual relationship with Tommy hadn’t changed things in the slightest; not outwardly at least. It was like living in two separate worlds: one where Tommy was just an ordinary buddy, and another where they would sneak over to each others’ rooms to indulge in their shared kinks. Tommy was still the campus hero, and although his stomach did swell slightly over the first half of the year, it wasn’t so dramatic that people were talking about it, and it hadn’t stopped him from being an absolute bulldozer on the field.

If Jimmy reflected back on that time, the first weekend after the holidays had been his absolute favourite. Tommy had arrived back in college carrying a few extra pounds. When he took his shirt off, the fat was obvious in his love handles and stomach. For the first time, it was starting to really jiggle as Tommy walked and the feeling was obviously turning him on more than ever. His kinks were being turned up into superdrive. He’d taken more risks, feeling Jimmy up in the kitchen the moment they were alone together; almost enjoying the thrill of nearly being caught. He wanted time with Jimmy; real time, not just a rushed hour at the end of an evening when there was nothing else to do. “Pretend that you’re ill this weekend so no one expects you to go out. Just stay in your room. I’m going to tell Carrie and the rest of the guys that I’m heading home for the weekend.”

Jimmy could feel how impossibly hard Tommy’s erection was as he pushed his hips up against him and concocted the sneaky plan.

“I want you to feed me all weekend. Don’t stop until my gut looks ready to explode!” he whispered, suddenly needing to pull away as he heard one of the guys coming down into the kitchen area. Tommy turned his back to them, pretending to be looking for something in the cupboard so that they didn’t spot the huge bulge in his pants. When the person who had walked in wasn’t looking, he turned to Jimmy and nodded his head, silently asking if he was up for it.

Jimmy nodded back; his head already filing with ideas for the things he wanted to do. In that moment, his heart felt ready to burst. A whole weekend with Tommy! He gazed at that big, beefy, muscular butt and swooned. This weekend, it would all be his!

The quiet knock at the door came at about seven o’clock that Friday evening. Tommy strolled into the room, determined that no one should see or hear him. He carried a large bag, as if he really was heading home for the weekend. His face was full of excitement and he bent down to unzip it before he had even stopped to properly greet Jimmy. The guy had obviously been stocking up all week, for it was full to the brim with snacks and treats of the most fattening and delicious kind, alongside his weight gain powders and a pair of bathroom scales.

Jimmy chuckled, for he too had been preparing all week as well. Under his bed were a whole load of similar items and the refrigerator in the kitchen was just as packed.

“Mmm! I’m such a spoiled piggy!” Tommy swooned, pulling Jimmy in for the most romantic of smooches. It was the most relaxed kiss they had ever shared, with no time limits or concerns. “Shall we watch a movie?”

As the hours ticked by, it became harder and harder to concentrate on anything other than Tommy’s insane capacity. It was only Friday and already the greedy guy had already put a serious dent in the stash of food. With each mouthful, the pair of them got more and more turned on. Jimmy wanted nothing more than to tear off their clothes and go at it, but he knew that this was all important foreplay, and an opportunity for Tommy to see what he was really capable of. He allowed himself the chance to slip his hand under Tommy’s t-shirt and rub that slowly swelling middle; stopping occasionally to pinch the softer love handles at the sides. Tommy seemed to appreciate it, moaning softly and bringing his sugary lips over to meet Jimmy’s.

It was only when Tommy really started to feel the strain that they both became incapable of holding back. Jimmy found himself down in Tommy’s crotch, trying to give the slowest and most erotic blow job of his life. He could see Tommy spasming occasionally and breathing heavily as he continued to gorge himself.

The time marched on and still neither of them had come. Jimmy snuck into the kitchen for more supplies, mixing up a calorie shake for Tommy to sip on during a short break. The breaks were important; Tommy had a typically masculine bravado, not wanting to show any weakness or sign that he was getting full. Instead, Jimmy had to be in tune with him, picking up those signs when it was time to pause.

It was gone midnight by the time they were far too horny to do anything but come. Jimmy sat up and lowered his butt down onto Tommy’s crotch, wincing only slightly as the heavy guy’s thick erection entered him. It was the way tonight was always going to end; the position that Tommy had grown to love best, as he lay there, fat and bloated and watching Jimmy ride him like a bull. It also left at least one of Jimmy’s hands free to continue pressing doughnuts into Tommy’s greedy and surprisingly submissive mouth, as he was brought closer and closer to the edge. It played out with incredible effectiveness, but also worked perfectly to muffle the sounds of Tommy’s moans when he came at last, opening his eyes wide, almost in fear at the intensity of the orgasm he was experiencing.

That night, they would lie together for the first time, holding each other on that cramped single bed, more content than they had ever been in their lives.

Unlike the prolonged and intimate sex of the Friday night, Saturday was filled with several rounds of kinkiness, in multiple different positions. The day was about pure indulgence in every single way imaginable. The two chatted for hours about anything and everything, discussed their shared kinks and inevitably fell back into each other's arms. They binged on tv shows and movies, as their bodies recharged ready for the inevitable next round.

Jimmy had been intrigued by Tommy’s quietly submissive side and was rather surprised when his suggestion of using an old pair of handcuffs for the next feeding went down extraordinarily well. With his hands behind his back and bulging tummy out, Tommy ate with incredible enthusiasm; his crotch highlighting just how arousing the situation was for him. It allowed Jimmy to learn a little more about how to play to Tommy’s desires: the words that he liked, the teasing that brought him the most pleasure. In fact, the whole experience worked incredibly well for them both, with a repeated, longer session playing out the very next day.

The pair came for the very last time that weekend as Tommy stepped on his scales and saw the numbers climb up to three hundred and twenty-two pounds. Even though he was stuffed and artificially bloated with food, he had never before seen the scales read so high. It sent them both into a frenzy of lust as they both came, gazing at the reflection of Tommy’s thick and overfed form in the long mirror.

The whole weekend had been the best time of Jimmy’s life and he felt himself becoming incredibly sad as he watched Tommy getting dressed to leave; the large underwear sliding back onto his overfed, bulbous butt for the first time since Friday night. Carrie had been messaging him throughout the day to ask when he would be back and Tommy could delay her no more. He thanked Jimmy for everything in the most genuine and heartfelt manner imaginable, then slipped out, back into the real world once more.

“Carrie wants us to spend Spring Break with her folks,” Tommy grumbled. “It’s my last year in college and that’s what she wants to do. I might as well sign up to become a monk! I’m a three hundred and twenty pound guy and her family all eat like a bunch of rabbits. I’m going to be fucking starving!” He looked at Jimmy, knowing full well that he would have considerably better plans for himself.

He wasn’t wrong. Jimmy had it all mapped out, from start to finish: parties, bars, clubs and street events with plenty of people, from several of the social groups he was mixed up with here at college.

“You’re welcome to ditch Carrie and come along with me instead?” Jimmy asked, hopefully.

Tommy didn’t take the bait. The casual nature of their arrangement had been fine for Jimmy up until then. But, as the months went by and the pair of them were still sneaking around behind Carrie’s back, Jimmy was starting to feel a little confused by it all. The way Tommy talked about his girlfriend sometimes, he wasn’t even convinced that the guy even liked her. They certainly didn’t have anything in common. So, why hadn’t he ended things?

Jimmy didn’t need Tommy to come out and announce their love to the entire campus, but having Carrie gone would have made things so much easier for them. They wouldn’t have had to wait until the nights when Carrie didn’t go to see Tommy, or fake going home for a weekend, just so that they could spend some time together. Tommy had told him how satisfied Jimmy made him, and how no one else on the planet had ever been able to make him come like Jimmy could. The pair could chat for hours and were alike in so many ways, yet it was Carrie who got to call Tommy her own.

“Seriously, forget Carrie and come along,” Jimmy tried, pressing a little harder. “I’ve found some awesome eating places and there will be so much beer on offer, there’s no chance you won’t be packing on at least a couple more pounds…” He rubbed Tommy’s belly in the way that he liked most, highlighting the curvaceous smoothness of it and patting where they both knew it had become the softest.

Tommy smiled wickedly. “I like that idea!” he chuckled, giving Jimmy a kiss. “But Carrie’s my girlfriend,” he stated, turning to look seriously at him. “I mean… for now at least.”

Jimmy adored these little hints that Tommy would one day finish with Carrie. He lived and breathed off them. They gave him life, and an opportunity to plan out a future that he could one day have with the man of his dreams.

“So, I suppose I’d best do what she wants; as much as I’ll hate it!” Tommy added. “Otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it!”

“Sorry, I had hoped to clean up a little before you came over, “ Edith explained, quickly scurrying around to pick up a load of Paul’s things, as well as food packaging, plates and cups. Jimmy hadn’t seen Paul in weeks, but he eyed the guy’s empty pants draped over the end of Edith’s bed and his eyes boggled at what appeared to be a fairly considerable waist size on them.

“Things are still going good with Paul then?” he asked, watching Edith try to make space in her room.

“Oh, yes!” Edith gushed. “We’re putting a deposit down on a little apartment for when we finish college. “I’m getting a job with my Aunt’s company. Paul is moving to be with me, and so that he can look for work too.”

“That’s great,” Jimmy replied, feeling that pit of dread and jealousy in his stomach. The end of college was approaching so fast now and he hadn’t made any plans at all yet.

Getting a job, renting somewhere, these were all issues he could deal with. But what about his relationship with Tommy? What was going to happen there? Would it all just… fizzle out? He couldn’t think of anything worse.

“So, is Paul going to be living the life of luxury when you’re earning a wage?” His eyes kept travelling back to those empty pants on the end of the bed. Just how big were they?

Jimmy listened to it all, until he could hardly take any more. He’d never heard Edith so gushing and almost smug. She painted a perfect picture of their life together and how it would unfold. Jimmy should have been happy for her, but the insecurities inside felt like a nest of rats gnawing away at him from the inside. “Alright, alright!” he grumbled after he’d finally lost his patience when Edith started talking about how her and Paul had even discussed getting married. “Your life is perfect. I get it!”

Edith was silent and clearly offended. “I’m sorry if I’m boring you,” she shot back sarcastically.

Jimmy sighed, trying to get a handle on his sudden anger. “No, you’re not boring me,” he began, apologetically. “It’s just…” he started, wanting to tell Edith everything about his secret relationship with Tommy. For months, years, he hadn’t told a soul about any of the things he had learned, or how their friendship had evolved into the beautifully frustrating love affair that it was today. He took a breath to begin, when the sight of Paul’s pants caught his attention once more.

Getting up from his seat, Jimmy marched across the room and unfolded them, searching for the label inside that would tell him what size they were.

“What are you doing?” Edith complained, snatching her boyfriend’s pants from Jimmy in annoyance.

“You’ve got Paul in 40” pants?” Jimmy spat, in shock, awe and disgust. “You’re talking about marrying the poor guy, convincing him that you love him, and he doesn’t even know that you’re purposefully just trying to make him fat? You should be ashamed of yourself!” He marched once more across the room to the door, until Edith’s loud and angry voice made him stop.

“Is that really what you think?” she asked. “You think I could make this sort of connection with someone without him knowing about this side of me?”

Jimmy was silent.

“Of course he knows. It took him about two weeks of dating me before he figured out I was into larger guys. I’m not exactly subtle, and everyone knows I was dating Drake before him.”

“He knows?” Jimmy asked, flabbergasted by the revelation. “So he’s getting bigger for you on purpose?”

Edith shook her head. “No. He’s not into it in that way. But he likes seeing me turned on and doesn’t mind eating extra calories a few days a week if it makes me happy. He accepts me for who I am… warts and all!”

Jimmy felt terrible. Now he could see why Edith was so happy. Her relationship really was perfect; not a secret between them. “I’m sorry,” he spluttered, realising how much of an idiot he had made of himself, “I didn’t realise. I didn’t mean to… I’m just stressed out because… if I’m honest, there’s this guy…”

“Well, I’m just glad that I can finally see what you really think of me,” Edith shouted, not interested in the slightest about hearing what he had to say; opening the door widely and not closing it again until Jimmy was on the other side of it.

Everywhere Jimmy went, people were buzzing about finishing college. Tommy’s final football game was coming up and, between training and Carrie, Jimmy hadn’t had the chance to be intimate with him in some time. He’d lost weight; Jimmy could see it in Tommy’s face, making him feel even more insecure; as if he was starting to lose track of Tommy completely.

“I got on to that work experience placement in the UK,” explained a girl from the floor below as they all started talking about the summer. “There were a few of us who applied from this college and, amazingly, two of us got on!”

“Oh, my buddy Tommy was interested in doing that,” Jimmy nodded. “He didn’t apply in the end though. His girlfriend was dead against it,” he sighed, never hiding his dislike of Carrie these days.

“Tommy from upstairs?” asked the girl, spreading her arms out to imitate Tommy’s extreme muscular bulk.. “No, he applied. He was successful too. We’re actually going together; working for a multinational finance company in London!”

The girl squeaked in excitement at her own good fortune, but Jimmy jumped straight in on her, lunging like a tiger. “Tommy’s going to work in London for a year?” he questioned sharply, feeling a rush of shock. How did he not know this? “But what about his girlfriend? Tommy said she wasn’t willing to let him go!”

“Who? Do you mean that girl, Carrie?” she asked. “They broke up, like a month ago.”

“Tommy and Carrie broke up?” Jimmy blasted, stunning the girls around him with a sudden increase in volume.

“Where the hell have you been?” one of the other girls laughed. “How did you not know? That’s such old news.”

Jimmy felt cold at the idea that he had been lied to by Tommy. Only last night he had sent a message asking the guy when he was free to hang out; quickly dismissed by Tommy, claiming that he was spending time with Carrie. But why? What was going on? Had things changed between them?

All those insecurities boiled within him. At first he felt angry. Then he felt sad and confused. But there was only one person who could give him the answers he so desperately needed.

Tommy’s room was already looking bare. The posters had been ripped from the walls and most of his things were in boxes. He was leaving tomorrow, missing the last game of the season, and this was the first Jimmy was hearing about it!

“So who ended it? You, or her?” Jimmy asked. He’d promised himself that he wouldn’t get upset, but already he could feel his voice cracking.

“She did,” Tommy finally admitted, accepting that his lies had been uncovered. “You know what Carrie’s like. Now college is ending, she doesn’t want to be tethered to someone who isn’t any use to her anymore.”

“I know how that feels,” Jimmy cried. “I’m no use to you either, now that you’re off to the UK. So you just thought you’d lie and ignore me for weeks?” He took a deep breath and suddenly realised Tommy’s motives all along. “You were never really into Carrie, were you?” he asked accusingly. “She was just a useful excuse to keep me at bay. To stop me from trying to make things more serious between us. Go on, admit it!” he demanded.

Tommy was silent.

That was all Jimmy needed. In a simple, heartbreaking moment, all of his worst fears and dreadful suspicions were confirmed. All the late night doubts and lonely thoughts that he had ever conjured in his mind, they were all accurate. He’d been used and discarded like a piece of trash. Tommy didn’t really love him. This whole affair, it was nothing more than a game to him.

“Look,” Tommy said flatly, no longer able to even look at him. “You and me… it’s just… not going to happen, Jimmy. I can’t be that fat guy you want. They’re fantasies, Jimmy! Nothing more. I’m finishing college with what’s likely to be a very mediocre degree and I need to make something of myself. I can’t just be your plaything for the rest of my life.”

The words cut through Jimmy like a knife. He felt foolish and embarrassed; then angry that Tommy was pinning it all on him; as if all of this had been driven solely by Jimmy’s desires and not his. As if Tommy was just an innocent bystander in all of it. He opened his mouth to retaliate but could already sense that he wasn’t going to be able to make it through a sentence without tears streaming down his face. He’d never forgive himself for making a spectacle of himself at this moment. He’d already been made to look like enough of a fool. Instead, he turned and did not look back. Not once.

And so, that was the very last memory Jimmy had of his greatest love affair. He left Tommy standing by his door, watching him return to his room. One final, bitter goodbye.

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bluegarners · 3 years

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Hi!! I was wondering if you had any Talon!Dick headcannons :)) By the way, I LOVE your writing!!!

Ahhhhh thank you sooo much, darling anon!! That means so much to me 🥺💙

Now, I’m unsure if I’ll be doing this correctly, but I do believe I have a few head-cannons! Here goes~

As Talon, Dick is often mistaken for being a meta-human with flight like abilities. He still subconsciously uses his acrobatic abilities in fighting, the famous quadruple flip giving him away, and his “Flying Grayson” origin and knack for flinging himself off tall buildings gives the illusion that he can fly. If he hurts himself after landing from leaping from tall buildings, it doesn’t show because of his tolerance for pain and his healing abilities, adding to the illusion of flight where no such thing exists

Dick is highly competitive to the point of bordering obsessional. Perfection was everything to the Court, and if one did not succeed flawlessly, than it was considered a failure, no matter the outcome. When he is rescued from the Court and introduced into more familial settings, Dick subconsciously competes with everyone to be the best at everything, including, but not limited to: fighting (there is no such thing as sparring, if he is swept off his feet, then he is a failure opponent; arguing also falls into that category, but he always ends up feeling worse when he feels like he’s won), target practice (darts are the Batfams least favorite boredom game because of Dick’s uncanny and unnatural ability to be so precise [he once pinned a mosquito to the board standing twelve feet away]) , memorization (no one likes to play card games with him either because he knows exactly which cards have been played and also likely knows the cards everyone else is holding), baking (he once tried to out-do Alfred and it was then that Dick experienced his first failure when it came to baking a scone; his always came out too hard), and pranking (he studies everyone very closely, looks for the very thing that ticks someone off, and when challenged, he is merciless in pursing the perfect trick to annoy them for days but leave no lasting harm)

Dick was trained to understand people and how they work, think, and plan. He understands human flaws and weaknesses probably more than anyone else, purely because he himself is so deeply flawed and recognizes this. However, he was never taught how to interact or understand animals. The first time Titus licked his hand, he spent hours researching what it meant (he was too confused and embarrassed to ask anyone because he knows that isn’t normal) and was left stunned for days when he came to the conclusion that it meant affection. When Alfred the cat leaps into his lap and purrs, and he again looks up what this means, Dick is overwhelmed at the undeserved friendliness he is receiving. As a Talon, Dick had had to earn everything in his life, including trust. He had never been given that without having to do something for it. Now, Dick takes every opportunity he can to keep that trust the animals have placed unto him (see: buying and feeding them treats, brushing their fur, giving them gentle affection)

Dick has great interest in things like skin-care appliances. The Court had only ever allowed him a bar of soap to wash the blood away, and he had never truly needed anything else, but when Steph gives him a bottle of lotion because “his skin looks ashy enough to make snow”, he finds he can’t stop lathering himself in it. His skin has always felt rough to the touch; callouses formed over the years of labor and hilts of sharp blades in his grasp. After a week of usage, Dick marvels at the fact that his hands feel soft. It is the first time he has ever thought of himself as being anything but hardened and ruined, and bath & body works quickly becomes an online shopping favorite

Sometimes, Dick forgets where he is. He’s still adjusting to “normal life”, outside and away from the Court. The Court was easy in the way that he never had to truly expect anything new. He walked the same hallways, the same rooms, the same sewer paths all his life; walls bare, plain, and white with only his reflection and the screeching cries of the Courts victims to decorate it. So, when he moves into the Manor, visits the Cave, and sees each wall covered in mirrors, pictures, clocks, trinkets, and little ornaments, he memorizes each placement and finds his way from there. But on cleaning days, when Alfred reorganizes, or when something gets broken and removed, Dick gets lost within his own head and searches in vain for land-markers and tells he was sure was once there. He knows that Bruce’s bedroom is down the hallway with the double mirror and portrait of a woman wearing deep blue, but how can he be sure when the portrait disappears one day and is replaced by a stool and some flowers? Surely he must be confusing things because Tim’s study is right across from the library door, which is always open and has a brass doorknob, but is that really true when the door with the brass handle is actually closed? There are two sets of stairs, one that leads into the kitchen and one that leads out to the back of the Manor, but Dick can’t tell the two sets apart anymore because the banisters got polished and he could only tell which was which because the one to the kitchen had a scuff mark on it from when Damian slid down its railing once. On those days, where everything and nothing is the same, Dick sits down in the middle of the floor and waits for someone to find him. Whoever finds him, and they always do, always look sad. He can’t quite understand why, but he’s just happy he’s not lost anymore

Every time Dick dreams, he feels the strong need to tell someone about them and keeps a journal to help him remember them. Because of the electrum serum administered to him since he was young, the element largely took care of every human weakness Dick ever had, including the physical need to sleep. The Court only ever took him out of cryo when he was needed to assassinate, and even then, every waking moment was spent training, learning, and traveling from place to place to do the Parliament’s bidding. When he is rescued, and for the first time ever given the choice to just sleep and do nothing, Dick dreams for the first time. It startles him because the dream felt very real, almost like a memory, but it’s horribly difficult to recall and he panics because memory-relapse and loss is scary when he knows he’s supposed to recall things perfectly. Jason ends up suggesting that Dick to keep a dream journal, as he too has trouble remembering what is a dream and what is a memory; the Lazerous Pit and being dead certainly did things to the brain surrounding remembrance. It helps to ease his anxiety, even if writing down “nightmares” (as everyone calls them) leaves him feeling worse than before

#anon #ask #Dick Grayson #Talon!Dick #headcannons #Talon #Dick Grayson is Talon #sorry if these were long winded!! i had a lot of fun thinking about these though!

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louiseleblancdiggory · 4 years

Note

okay but what about a 'The Way I Loved You' by TS Au for Rowaelin with Punk!Rowan?? pretty please??

A/N: The way I rushed to post this. I have a bunch of fanfics to write before October is over, and now that I’m finally not sick anymore, I’ve been trying to rush and write them but this prompt.....

The Way I Loved You

“So I’ll pick you up at seven, right?”

Aelin smiled, nodding. “Yeah, seven is perfect.”

Chaol smiled back, putting a hand on her back as he bent down to kiss her. Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Aelin tensed slightly. She had been dating Chaol for three months now, and it wasn’t that kissing him made her uncomfortable, it was just different.

For two and a half years, she had been used to kissing a different guy.

A guy she could feel the stare at the back of her head.

Chaol withdrew, still smiling at her. Aelin forced a smile to appear on her lips, giving him a quick peck on the lips before taking a step back. She needed to go to her class, and even though she didn’t let herself turn around to confirm, she knew Rowan was still staring at her.

Part of her could understand the staring. They had broken up four months ago, and Aelin rushed to find someone new. Not to throw it at his face that she could, but just because she had felt so fucking bad at the end of their relationship, that she figured that the best cure was to jump right back at another one. It kinda worked most of the time. The other part of her, the part that felt like the solution wasn’t working out perfectly, wished he would just start ignoring her existence. Would stop looking at her, being in the same room that she was.

Preferably, stop being in the same continent that she was.

As she left the senior lounge— pointedly not looking back— she let her mind wander to months and months back when all this tension didn’t exist. Aelin had known Rowan since forever. He had been at her class from elementary school until high school, and she knew that they were also going to the same college when they graduated in two months. Until sophomore year of high school, though, Aelin had never exchanged more than three words with him. They had been different at everything their entire lives, and so both never showed any interest in having a single conversation with one another. In elementary school, while Aelin focused on the art classes, Rowan only ever showed a human reaction during music class. In middle school while she was part of every single club she could find, Rowan had been too busy avoiding every club that could find him. In high school, while Aelin dedicated her life to her grades, being cheer captain and part of the volleyball team, Rowan simply worked towards paying off his motorcycle, working at Lorcan’s dad’s mechanic shop, and almost getting arrested every now and then.

Honestly, it had been a miracle that they even knew about each other’s existence.

The only reason they actually met was because of Chemistry. Aelin had absolute no interest in the subject, but since her mother had been bothering her to take it, she relented during her second year of high school. As she had chosen to take it in advanced placement, they had a whole period of the normal class plus the addition of half a period of laboratory. To her chagrin at the time, she got paired up for the labs with the single person in the whole class she wasn’t friends with.

Rowan fucking Whitethorn.

She found some comfort in realizing that he was just as excited to work with her as she was to work with him, but since he was always polite during the labs, she didn’t find a reason to dislike him. He was coldly neutral, and, surprisingly, a fucking genius. If it hadn’t been for him, Aelin would have bombed every single lab, quiz and test they had in that godforsaken class.

Despite both of their reputations, Aelin found out that she had more in common with him than it looked, and that she also liked him a lot more than she would have ever thought. When comfortable around people, he was actually pretty chill and funny. One of the biggest things that made her befriend him, though, was the fact that he didn’t fucking care about anything that didn’t concern him. Rumors? He was too busy for that. Reputations? Nope. Social status? Couldn’t care less.

While so many people in the school saw her as an athletic bimbo, Rowan met her with absolute 0 preconceptions because he never fucking cared about them. Since the beginning, he met Aelin for who she really was, and not the person everyone at the school had a different perception of.

Maybe this was one of the reasons she fell so deeply in love with him.

Things had been normalish. They didn’t know about each other, they met, became friends and then started dating. Nothing too out of the ordinary.

The dating though.

Dating Rowan had been… wild. Not in the bad sense, no. It had been like a roller-coaster all the time. Like driving down an empty highway at 150 per hour, windows open, and screaming your lungs out. It had been fun, and it had made her feel so alive that she could still feel it when she closed her eyes. It had made her blood boil, every single nerve jump. And yet, at the same time, being with him never made her feel so calm, so comfortable. Rowan was what shook her world, but also what made her feel steady.

Loving Rowan Whitethorn had been the biggest adventure of her life.

Their relationship had been the perfect mixture of actual love and burning passion.

The passion was sometimes almost blinding, and it made her do things she would have never though she’d have the courage to do. Rowan encouraged her to push her limits— always safely, he’d make sure of that—, and Aelin enjoyed her life to the maximum. They went on a trip across the east coast on his motorcycle during the summer, went bungee jumping at the neighboring state to celebrate his birthday, and skydiving to celebrate hers. Aelin had asked her dad once, at two in the morning, to take her to the police station to bail Rowan out after he punched someone hard enough to make the other guy black out. The fact Aelin’s dad hadn’t killed her and Rowan after it had been a miracle.

The love, though, the love was her favorite part. Loving Rowan was so easy and so different from what she thought loving someone would be. She always thought that love was that blinding emotion, that easy thing that made you burn from inside out, but no. That was passion, and while it was good, love was… more. Loving him had been like sitting at a beach in the end of the afternoon, the wind on her face and the disappearing sun still warming your skin. Loving hadn’t make her feel like combusting, it had made her feel like home. It wasn’t always easy to be in love all the time, but she also found out that the hardships made part of loving.

Love, she learned, was choosing someone every day, the good and the bad, even when you didn’t feel like it. Love wasn’t always perfect, but it was always worth it.

But they fought. Oh, they fought a lot. Despite Rowan’s careless behavior, he was just as stubborn as she was. Their fights had always been filled with screaming, always making her blood boil in a different way. Even when fighting with him, Aelin had never felt more alive. In the end, however, most of their fights were stupid. They never fought about serious shit, and the screaming matches were usually about fucking nothing. They both had been too stubborn to see this, too stubborn to admit that both were usually wrong

The denial was what broke everything.

Aelin didn’t think Rowan would actually think they were breaking up. It was another one of their stupid screaming matches, and Aelin blurted out the first thing that came to her mind. She had been too proud to say she didn’t mean it, and so things ended because of nothing.

She could still see the whole scene. Could still see Rowan going still, narrowing his eyes and then shrugging as if it was nothing. Could still see him leaving. Could still hear her heart breaking. She knew since that instant that she should have gone after him.

She didn’t. He should have known.

And now he would be staring at her every now and then, would be like a fucking buzzard over her life.

“Hello, Earth to Aelin.” She felt a hand on her shoulder, a hand snapping its fingers in front of her face. She snapped back to reality, raising her head to stare at her cousin’s face. Her best friend, Lysandra, was by his side, staring at her with as much concern as Aedion was. “You ok?”

Aelin shook away from his grip, forcing a smile to her lips. “Never been better.”

————

Aelin waved Chaol goodbye, waiting until his car left her driveway to get inside the house.

She sighed, dropping her shoes down as she walked quietly to the kitchen. It was almost two in the morning, and she didn’t want to wake her parents.

Despite her efforts to keep quiet, she couldn’t help the scream that left her mouth when she turned on one of the kitchen lights and saw her father sitting there.

She put a hand to her chest, trying to calm her racing heart. “What the hell?”

“Was that necessary?” Rhoe asked, a smirk on his face.

Aelin scowled. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Makes it all more dramatic.” Her dad shrugged, and Aelin rolled her eyes. She walked to one of the cabinets, taking out a bottle of water. “Aelin.”

She turned at her father’s tone, frowning when she saw his expression. “You’re the one that said no curfew.”

Rhoe shook his head, patting the seat by his side. “Come here, firefly.”

Aelin set the bottle down, cautiously sitting by her father’s side. He had a strange expression on his face, body somewhat tense. “What happened?”

“You like Chaol?”

Aelin frowned at the question, scoffing a little. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

“You used to have a different boyfriend.” Her dad said, and Aelin understood what the conversation was about.

“Seriously, dad?” She went on the defensive immediately, crossing her arms. “That was months ago. And I thought you didn’t even like Rowan.”

Rhoe actually laughed, a serene smile on his face. “Nah, I actually liked the kid. Despite the motorcycle, the black clothes, constant scowl, and the criminal record, he was a nice guy. And he made you happy. What else a father could wish?”

“Someone who doesn’t have a criminal record?”

Rhoe shrugged. “It’s not like I didn’t agree with him that time I had to take you to bail him out. Some guy harassed Lysandra, Rowan punched them.”

“You sound almost appreciative.” Aelin said, still on the defensive even though a small part of her smiled internally.

Rhoe smiled knowingly. “I am.”

Aelin scoffed, but didn’t say nothing in return. Her father let her gather her thoughts, and both sat in silence for a few minutes before Aelin said quietly. “Chaol is a nice guy.”

Her dad nodded. “He is.”

“He seems easy to love.”

Rhoe got up, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s hair. “No one is easy to love, firefly. That’s one of the main points of loving. We value it so much because it is hard to find, because it is hard to keep.” Aelin raised her head to look at her dad, and he smiled at her. “I’m not telling you what to do. You’re grown enough to take your own decisions. I’m also not telling you to go to a bad relationship, not in the slightest. If I thought something was harmful to you, I’d be the first intervening. But have in mind that people fight sometimes. Gods, me and your mother when we were younger? Like fucking cat and dog.”

Aelin huffed a laugh, vaguely remembering the stories her parents told her.

“But,” Rhoe continued. “It gets better with time, and I think you know that. You get more mature, learn to admit when you’re wrong. I remember when you and Rowan were younger and fought about everything, and yet it got better and better with time. The two of you barely argued during the last year.”

“I know.” Aelin whispered, resting her face against her father’s chest. He hugged her, rubbing her back like he used to when she was younger. She knew that he was right. Despite the fact that she argued a lot with Rowan, Aelin also knew that it had gotten much better. They fought less, and the reason of the arguments never got worse. It was usually childish and they’d laugh about it in the following morning. “I didn’t mean to actually break up with him. I never though he’d think I would break up with him over something so stupid.”

Even though she was whispering, Rhoe heard her. “I know.”

“And I should have told him that.”

“Yes, you should have.”

“I was wrong.”

“You were.”

“I’m not going back to him, though.” Aelin said, some stubbornness still in her. Rowan had absolutely left that day, and didn’t give her the chance to explain afterwards. They were apart for her fault, yes, but he wasn’t the saint in all this.

Rhoe groaned. “Really, Ace?”

Aelin crossed her arms. “He was very comfortable with the breakup. Why should I bother?”

“This whole conversation was for nothing?” Her dad crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Not for nothing. I know now that I need to stop things with Chaol. I shouldn’t have even started dating him if I wasn’t going to commit completely.” Aelin raised her head to look at her dad. “Gosh, I’m a terrible person.”

“No, you’re young. Young people fuck up sometimes.” Rhoe kissed her head one more time before he started to walk out of the kitchen. He didn’t try to bring up going back to Rowan again, knowing that it would only make her more keen on not doing so. “But now that you recognize this, I hope you fix it. I didn’t raise you to be a liar, let that be by lying to others or to yourself.”

“Gods, you could have ended this conversation a little more lightly.”

Rhoe turned his face around, smiling at her. “Fix it, firefly.”

————

“Aelin? What happened? I left you at your house twenty minutes ago.” Chaol said, rubbing his eyes. He obviously was going to sleep already, and Aelin felt bad about doing this in the middle of the night but she had to get everything done already.

“I can’t do this.” She blurted out, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

“This. Us.” She signaled in between them. “I juts can’t.”

Chaol took a step forward, a frown on his face. “We’re going too fast? I can go in whatever pace you want but—“

“I know this is gonna sound like a shit excuse but it’s really not you, it’s me.” She said, cringing. It was terrible that she used the oldest breaking up method in the book, but it was true.

“Really, Aelin?” He crossed his arms, face morphing into anger. “This bullshit excuse?”

“I understand you’re mad, but I’m really, really sorry. I don’t want to lead you on, and you’re so nice and deserves someone who is completely willing to make the relationship work.” Aelin said pleadingly. “It’s not anything you did or didn’t do, I’m just—“

She wanted to feel as if her heart was breaking, but not even that. Instead, she was feeling relieved. The feeling angered her to no end. She should have been able to fall in love with a perfectly nice and calm guy, but Rowan’s presence had become like a ghost in her life and not even that was possible anymore.

“Not interested.” He finished, voice full of scorn. “If I’m oh so nice, why are you breaking up with me?”

“I—“ Aelin hesitated, not wanting to even mention Rowan. “I just can’t. I can’t be with you.”

“With me specifically.” Chaol said, grounding his jaw. After a second of silence, he let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, I should have expected that. I’m the very nice guy, and yet you prefer the fucking asshole that Whitethorn is.”

Aelin felt a pang of anger. Of course Cahol would think that. “I’m really sorry. You are a nice guy, it’s really nothing with you.”

“Why don’t you just leave?” Chaol said, already closing the door. “And stay away from me.”

Aelin had the feeling that he didn’t want to hear to any more excuses, and so she just gave him another apologetic look before turning around and going back to her car.

Although breaking up with Chaol had been bad, she knew it wasn’t gonna be the worst part of her night because at that moment, Aelin was pissed enough to want to pick a fight.

And she knew exactly who she was going to pick it with.

As she drove to the apartment Rowan shared with Lorcan and his dad, Aelin went over and over what she was going to say when she got there. Knowing both her personality and Rowan’s, she knew that things would go south very quickly.

Her hands were sweating as she went up the stairs of the four stories building, fingers flexing over and over again as she gathered courage to knock on the door.

Part to her relief, part to her disappointment, no one answered. She knocked again. And again. And again.

On the sixth knock, the door opened violently, and Aelin found herself staring up at Lorcan Salvaterre.

His pissed off face quickly morphed into confusion, and he crossed his arms, leaning against the door frame. “Bimbo?”

Even being all pissed, Aelin rolled her eyes. Lorcan hadn’t like her in the beginning, but now both were actually close friends. Breaking up with Rowan made them separate a little, but good to know that he still liked her enough to use that stupid nickname. “Bully boy.”

Lorcan scoffed. “What have I done to deserve such visit at two in the morning?”

“Where’s Rowan?”

Lorcan tried to contain a smirk. “Why should I tell you?”

“Cause I’m your friend.”

“Nah, not good enough.” He said, letting the smirk appear. Aelin let out a breath, crossing her arms impatiently. “What do you want with him?”

“To talk.”

“You mean scream.”

“To talk.”

“About?”

“Stuff.”

Lorcan’s sarcastic smirk was widening more and more. “What stuff?”

“You’re fucking insufferable. Where’s Rowan?”

Lorcan let out a half cruel laugh. “ Don’t spew fire, baby. He’s in the shop, moping around while you go out with your jock boyfriend.”

Aelin rolled her eyes. “Thanks, could have said that a minute ago.”

“Nah.” Lorcan said, already closing the door. “Fix this mess. Rowan already has a shit mood, and it has only been worse for three months now.”

“You’re one to talk about bad mood.”

“Fuck off, Galathynius.” Lorcan said through the closed door, but Aelin was already rushing down the steps. The mechanic shop was by the end of the street, and she almost ran there.

The storefront was all dark, but the garage door was slightly open, light filtering through the opening. Without further thinking, Aelin crouched, entering through the opened bottom.

“Rowan.” Aelin said, crossing her arms.

Rowan immediately whipped his head around to look at her, eyes narrowing when he noticed her expression. “Why do I feel like you think I did something wrong?”

Despite all the planning, Aelin’s mind was blank. It was the first time she spoke to him in months. “I hate that we dated.”

Rowan let out a laugh, resting against the hood of a car. “You came all the way here, at two in the morning, to tell me that? The dedication is on point, Ace. But shouldn’t you have someone else to talk?”

Oh, he was jealous. Aelin could feel it in his voice. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m the idiot?” Rowan crossed his arms. “If so, you should really get back to Prince Charming.”

“He’s nice.” Aelin said for some reason. When Rowan raised his eyebrows in mocked interest, she felt her blood boiling. It was because of this fucking asshole she couldn’t date anyone else. “He’s sensible and incredible.”

“Oh, I’m sure he is. All your single friends must be swooning over your relationship.” Although he was smiling, Aelin didn’t think he was finding any of that funny.

“And he calls me when he says he will. My mom thinks he’s nice, and today when he came to pick me up, he even talked to dad about business.”

“Really? I’m sure Rhoe and Evalin adore him.”

“He respects my space and limits, never asks me to wait. I, comfortable and I literally couldn’t ask for anything better.” The last lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she didn’t take anything back.

“Wow, that sounds... fucking boring.” Rowan said, simply and with a smile. “And I bet anything you want that you’re fucking bored.”

“Fuck off, Rowan.”

“No, you fuck off, Aelin.” Rowan said, getting up. “You break up with me, you move on, you come here. And for fucking what?”

“You seemed very content in me breaking up with you, so don’t play the high moral ground card.” She replied defensively. “You wanna know what I just did, Rowan? I broke up with my amazingly normal boyfriend because of you.”

Rowan raised his eyebrows, letting out a laugh. “Can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you!”

“The girl I have loved for years just came here to tell me she broke up with her boyfriend because she still likes me. I’m so very sorry if I’m not currently crying.”

“You left.” Aelin screamed, and Rowan’s smile disappeared. She pointed a finger at him, taking a step forward. “You fucking left me after the stupidest fight we ever had. You fucking shrugged as if dating me wasn’t that important and you. Fucking. Left.”

“You broke up with me, Aelin. What the hell was I supposed to do?” Rowan spread his arms, shouting back at her.

“I don’t fucking know, but you could have showed any emotion that didn’t seem like satisfaction. You could have picked up my calls the following day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Could have asked me if I was serious when I shouted something stupid during a stupid argument.” Aelin’s voice was normal again. “And then Chaol comes and you’re right. I’m fucking bored. He opens the door for me, says all the right things and I’m fucking bored. Even when I feel perfectly fine, I’m fucking bored. I’m bored because I’m hung up over a guy who fucking shrugged when I broke a relationship of years. You shrugged, left and ignored me for days. So you don’t get to be happy about all this.”

“Aelin—“

“No. No, I’m talking now because you didn’t let me do it. I loved you so fucking much and you knew it. Loving you was a goddamn roller coaster and you knew I enjoyed it. And that’s the whole point. You knew the way I loved you and you didn’t let me explain. You knew it and you left, and then ignored me. I’m not saying this is your fault. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have screamed that I wanted to break up with you because I fucking didn’t, ok? I was fucking wrong, and we’re apart because of me. All I wanted was the chance to apologize. So now that you’re finally listening to me, you’re gonna let me apologize like it was the following morning.”

Aelin felt her heart beating fast, and when Rowan just stared at her in silence, she continued.

“I am so sorry I broke up with you. Of course I don’t mean it, and you’re acting like an idiot if you think I was for real. An absolute idiot because you should know I love you. You should know that I’d never break up with you over that. I’m so sorry that I even said that. I shouldn’t have, I let my temper get the best of me and shouted the first hurtful thing that came to my mind.” Aelin breathed in and out, trying to make her heart beat normally. “I’m sorry I even made you believe for a second I was for real. I never wanted to hurt you, and even though I hate the way you left, I understand. Please, please, forgive me and let’s go back to our normal.”

“Ace…”

“That was all I wanted to tell you when I called you a million times, Ro.” Aelin felt her throat twisting, the feeling of missing him for months hitting her straight to the chest. She knew she had been the wrong one in the situation, and even though she despised the way he left, Aelin knew Rowan enough to know that it was just a defense mechanism. “I didn’t even need you to accept me back, I just needed you to know that I was sorry and that I loved you. But you left and acted like everything was fine.”

“I’m sorry, Ace, I—“

“Gods, no. I don’t want you to apologize!” Aelin shook her head. Part of her wanted to hear it, the part that had been infuriated when ignored. The other part, however, the bigger part, didn’t want any apology. “I want you to accept the apology. And if you can’t do it, just say it and let me move on with my fucking life. Because if you can’t and this is it, I’ll have to move on with my fucking life. And I won’t bother you anymore.”

The whole room was silent, and Aelin was staring at Rowan as intently as he was staring right back at her. She could feel her heart beating, not fast anymore but so strongly she could hear it. Her palms were sweaty and, despite the fact that she hadn’t looked for Rowan with that intent in mind, she was hoping he’d accept the apology. That they’d talk and go back to being a normal fucking couple. A couple that no one really understood how it worked— Aelin being cheer captain, in the volleyball team, and every single club she’d find while Rowan was one step away from biting someone’s arm off if they talked to him.

“I was hurt.” Rowan started.

“I know.”

“And angry. And I wasn’t thinking.”

Aelin nodded hope and fear mixing inside her chest. “I guessed.”

“For two years I was waiting for the day you decided to break up with him after you realized I just wasn’t it.”

Aelin frowned, confusion clouding her mind. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Ace.” Rowan scoffed. “We both know you can do better.”

Aelin crossed her arms, eye narrowing. “No.”

“That’s a shit response.”

“Why the fuck do you mean by do better? Dating is not a sport or subject, Ro.”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I mean it, tho. There’s no doing better. I love you and it is what it is. Nowhere to improve, you’re the maximum for me already.”

Rowan stared at her in silence, and Aelin wanted to say something else, wanted to maybe hug him. But he hadn’t said everything was fine, so she didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. She hadn’t been lying, though. She never imagined there could be anyone better for her, Rowan was just… perfect. What she not only wanted, but also needed. He had never been a missing part of her, but always someone who added up to who she already was.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you explain.” Rowan said quietly.

“I said I didn’t want an apology.”

Rowan nodded, taking a hesitant step forward. “I love you. Have for years, you know that.”

Aelin nodded, face neutral even though she could feel her whole body relaxing. Worry slowly left her veins, relief and happiness substituting it. “And I love you too. Have for years, you know that.”

Rowan walked slowly up to her, hesitating again before raising his hands to cup her face. Aelin almost sighed in relief. “I should have listened to you.”

Aelin nodded, hope washing her whole expression. “So we’re fine? You forgive me, and we’re like before?”

Rowan bushed his thumb against her cheek, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, we’re fine and there’s nothing to forgive.”

Aelin felt her chest bursting when he said that. She threw her arms around his shoulders, standing on her tiptoes to press her lips against his. Kissing Rowan after months was like coming back home, his warm and soft lips moving against her almost hungrily. Aelin opened her mouth, letting Rowan deepen the kiss as she hugged him more tightly. Rowan’s hands hugged Aelin by her waist, pressing her body against his as his mouth moved gently and yet hurriedly against hers.

Against his mouth, Aelin half sighed, half moaned in sheer happiness.

Tags:

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immodestmussorgskyy · 3 years

Text

you have (1) new message

“I don’t believe in you!”

“I believe in you…”

You can’t help but snort, bursting into a fresh round of giggles. The dialogue in Nightmare on Elm Street is absolutely diabolical-- you struggle to figure out how anybody could consider this a horror movie. But hey… meteoric fame is hard to come by. It’s a cult classic for a reason.

You’d usually be marathoning classic slasher flicks with your roommate, Chloe, but she’s on a month-long Hawaii dream vacation with her new boyfriend. What happened to bros before hoes? But hey, his wealth is apparently abundant enough to fund weeks of paradise beachside living, so good for her for getting that bread. And anyway, you’re content to sit alone in your little mousehole apartment and melt into the couch after work with a family-size bag of salt & vinegar chips under your arm.

You watch the flickering screen with mild interest as you chomp down another handful of chips. Freddy Krueger is definitely failing to get you on the edge of your seat. Wiping your hand on your sweatpants, you pick up the remote and turn the movie off.

“Nightmare, my ass.” you mutter under your breath.

As much as you’d like to, eating nothing but salt and vinegar chips for dinner seems like a great way to end up with an upset stomach and a lot of regret later tonight. The pantry is well stocked with Chloe’s foods of choice-- organic steel-cut rolled oats, a billion different kinds of nuts and seeds all in cute little labeled mason jars, gluten free bread, a mockery of cheese puffs (chickpea puffs? Come on!). Your side is a library of boxed or canned foods in stark contrast: a couple opened boxes of Pop-Tarts, a few boxes of Kraft mac & cheese, a family sized box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and, the only thing not in a box: another bag of salt & vinegar chips.

The fridge tells a similar story. Chloe’s avocados, farmer’s market tomatoes, and thick stalks of celery gleam in the vegetable drawer. She’s consumed half the shelf space with just kombucha and a few swanky craft beers. And bottles of oat milk, or soy milk, or some kind of thing pretending to be milk. You actually don’t have much in the fridge besides leftover Indian food from your favorite place downtown and a gallon of milk for your cereal, so you don’t mind her hogging more space.

Muffy, Chloe’s ragdoll cat, stalks into the kitchen with you and gives you a tiny yowl. You lean down and give her an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

“Scram, Muffy.” you murmur to her. “I’ve already fed you.”

She looks up at you with a look that can only mean “and you’ll feed me more.”

She stalks back into the living room, fluffy beige tail disappearing behind the wall in a flick and a wave. You tie your hair back and yawn. What’s on the menu for dinner tonight?

Before you can think too much about eating, you remember that Chloe left you a voicemail before she took off. You fish your phone from your pocket and open your voicemail, tapping your toe against the linoleum floor as the dial tone plays.

You have one new message, chirps the robot voice of your mailbox.

“Hey girl. I’m boarding soon, so you probably won’t hear from me for a while. Make sure you feed Muffy, water the plants…” she clicks her tongue a few times, “take your meds, and don’t lay in bed for too long on the weekends. You know how that tanks your mood.”

Chloe might be a total hipster health nut, but it doesn’t make it any less sweet that she frets over you so much. You break into a smile and make a mental note to call her back.

“And. You can eat anything perishable of mine in the fridge or pantry while I’m gone. I doubt the bread or the veggies are gonna last long… you need to eat healthier anyway. No potato chips for dinner.”

Your smile grows. She knows you so well.

“I gotta go, but I’ll send you tons of pictures when I get there. Bye, babe.”

You hang up and set your phone down on the counter. Eyeing the bland looking loaf of brown bread, you decide you’ll have breakfast a la Chloe for dinner.

You toss the loaf onto the counter, then stalk to the fridge. The avocados seem pretty ripe. Tomatoes, too. You pick out one of each, then pluck a couple eggs from the carton you two share and set it all on the counter. Avocado toast with scrambled eggs sounds pretty Chloe.

You gut the avocado, tossing its pit in the trash and scooping its innards out into a bowl. The fork makes quick work of it, turning it into a mound of mild green paste. Salt, pepper. Done.

Hey, if Chloe let you eat her food, she’s bound to not mind that you’re using her nice kitchen knives too, right? You cut a few slices of tomato and grimace at its gelatinous, glistening center. You never liked tomatoes much, but she’s kinda right-- you do need to improve your diet.

Before long, you’ve got a nice thick slice of toast slathered in avocado and garnished with ripe red tomato sitting next to a steaming pile of scrambled eggs. This may not be your beloved salt & vinegar chips, but it sure looks delicious.

You snap a photo of your meal and text it to her. Am I healthy yet? you type, with a grin on your face.

Muffy stalks up to you, looking up expectantly. You sigh and toss her a morsel of scrambled egg. “That’s all you’re getting, you little twerp.” you admonish through a mouthful of toast. It’s not… delicious, but it’s not bad for some mushed up vegetable on top of an excuse for bread. You curse yourself for not adding some cheese to your scrambled eggs. That would’ve really been delicious.

You’d usually be scrolling through your social media right now, but something inspires you to look longingly out the window of the kitchen. The sky is a starless, inky black, obscuring everything except for whatever is illuminated by the weak orange streetlights. Usually there would be more traffic or drunk yelling-- you and Chloe didn’t exactly get lucky with the placement of your unit-- but tonight it’s eerily silent. That’s perfectly welcome to you, though. It’s much better than cranking up the volume of your music to drown out whatever street fight is occurring three floors below you.

Suddenly, your musing and its silence is broken by the sound of your ringtone. It’s half past midnight… who in their right mind would be calling you right now?

Unknown number. You frown and let it go to voicemail. Probably just some spam caller.

You finish your dinner and sit there in the silence, then check your phone again. You can’t help but be curious as to what message they’ve left you. Gingerly, you open your voice mailbox again and listen dispassionately to the dial tone and the little robot voice.

You have one new message and one old message.

The voice that erupts through your speaker is unfamiliar, smooth, low. All you can discern is that it’s a male voice, its tone almost perversely cloying.

“I was hoping you’d pick up.” A long inhale, a long exhale. “You seem a little lonely. Breakfast for dinner… cute.”

Ice cold horror washes over you and you can barely move your fingers to hang up. This has to be some kind of joke. Some stupid kid getting really, really lucky with their prank call.

But a question still sears into your thoughts:

Who would have known what you were doing?

That you were alone in your apartment?

Maybe, just maybe, by some insane stretch of the imagination, Chloe’s new boyfriend got ahold of her phone, saw your text, and decided to pull some prank. Yeah, that sounds about right. That’s the only situation that makes sense, unless…

Somebody is watching you.

You nearly jump out of your seat as the phone rings again. Unknown number. Your hands tremble over it as your panicked brain deliberates picking it up. Before you can think about it any more, you’ve snatched it into a sweaty palm and brought it up to your ear.

“Chloe, this isn’t fucking funny. Cut it out.” you try to sound intimidating, but your voice trembles in just the wrong way with each word.

“You picked up.” the voice breathes, and you swear you can hear a sinister smile creep onto whoever’s face it belongs to. “You must really be lonely.”

“I said stop, Chlo--”

“My name’s not Chloe.” he snarls, and your empty threat dies in your throat immediately. Then, as if nothing had happened at all, his voice slips back into that relaxed, amused tone. “But I do wish I were spending a month in Hawaii right now. Lucky girl, isn’t she?”

Another pang of fear hits you like a brick. You swallow hard, biting your lip. “Whoever you are, leave me alone. Or I’ll… I’ll call the cops.”

“What exactly are you going to tell them, sweetheart? That some big mean boogeyman is leaving scary messages on your phone?” he lets out a mocking laugh. “They’ll send their best officers, I’m sure.”

“Leave me alone.” is all you manage to say, breathless and trembling, before you force yourself to hang up and practically slam your phone down onto the counter. Muffy jumps and cocks her head at you. You force yourself to break out of your panicked stupor and hurry over to the kitchen window, glancing hurriedly to the left and right of it. If somebody were on the fire escape, you surely would have heard it.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You yank those curtains shut, then the curtains on the living room window, then finally the ones in your bedroom. You remember Chloe locking and shutting her windows, so there’s no need to check in there. Something tells you to anyway.

You creep to her doorway, palms sweaty. There’s probably nothing to see in there, you think to yourself, the curtains were already shut.

Looking into her room, your stomach drops.

The curtains are tucked neatly to the side, and her window is cranked all the way open, letting in the cool night air and the sounds of the streets. You nearly choke in horror and rush over to shut the window, making sure the lock is tightly down before throwing the curtains back over them. You must have just misremembered. She probably left the window open to let some fresh air in, or something.

But she never leaves her window open, or Muffy would get out, you realize.

“Oh my God.” you gasp to yourself, before you sprint to the kitchen and grab the biggest, meanest looking knife in the drawer, as well as your phone. Muffy meows at you curiously, then yelps in indignance as you swiftly scoop her up by the stomach and fly to your room.

“Sorry.” you mutter as you practically toss her onto your bed, then lock your door. It’s a pathetic, flimsy mechanism, and could probably be picked with a fork, but it’s better than nothing. You pause, surveying the room for any heavy objects, and settle on jamming your full laundry hamper under the doorknob. At least this way you’ll hear any intruder before they make it into your room. The knife you tuck under your pillow as you scramble under your covers and turn your lamp off.

Your hands shake as you dial Chloe’s number. The phone rings once, twice, then goes straight to voicemail.

“Hey, Chlo,” you say shakily. “Uhm, I got some really weird calls from somebody tonight and I think our apartment might have been broken into. Or something. Uh,” you swallow hard, “Muffy and I are locked up in my room right now and I have a knife. I could be just imagining things, but if you don’t hear from me for a while, I probably got murdered or something.”

God, you sound so stupid right now, but it’s the best you can muster when your thoughts are racing at a million miles an hour.

“I’ll call you when I wake up tomorrow. Bye.”

You plug your phone in and set it on your nightstand, shrinking down underneath your duvet. Nothing is visible in your room, even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, except for the glow of the hall light you left on under your door.

It’s going to be a long night.

Check out this story and the rest of its chapters on AO3!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688007/chapters/70331253

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #the ghostface #jed olsen #fanfiction #murder and intrigue huehuehue #getting stalked basically #cat and mouse type shit

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captain-s-rogers · 4 years

Text

Have A Little Faith In Me

(gif credit to the creator)

Part One

Master List Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC // Clint Barton x OFC Word Count: 1,900 Warnings: none? A/N: Debuting for OC Day 2020! Here’s the first part of the rewrite of my first ever Marvel series! If you want to be added to my tag list please let me know! Feedback is cool :)

Rockefeller PR firm. Though not connected to the famed family by any means, legend had it the J.D. Rockefeller himself had hired the founding members to handle his public relations in the very early success of the family. As a show of gratitude, in addition to a substantial cash and client flow, Mr. Rockefeller had allowed the firm to use the family’s prosperous name.

Anyone who was anyone in New York City knew of and often employed Rockefeller PR. The firm put on benefit events like they were going out of style, constantly hosting galas and banquets for one charity or another. Of course, with the guest lists for the events most often restricted to Manhattan’s elite, the donations poured in left and right. The firm had reached their renowned status as the most profitable and most charitable over the years.

In more recent years, Sophia Hawkins and Lucy Cleveland had made names for themselves as the firm’s most successful representatives. That success had given the clout they needed to swing an event entirely different from anything the firm had done in a long time -- possibly ever.

For starters, this event wasn’t being held to raise funds for an art gallery or secure investors for a corporation. This event was being held to raise funds to donate to several different organizations that supported the US troops and veterans. Not to mention, the event was made open to the public -- another component which had never been a part of a Rockefeller PR event. The thing was 1940s USO; everyone who showed up to attend the event was required to dress accordingly and make a donation at the door, in addition to their purchased ticket, of course

Both Sophia’s and Lucy’s grandfathers had fought in World War II, which had been Sophia’s inspiration for the idea. The firm’s executives hadn’t been keen on the idea when the two women first presented it, but between the excellent publicity that would come from supporting the troops and veterans, and the girls’ track record of successful events, convincing them to endorse the event hadn’t taken but a few minutes.

The night of the benefit arrived, with a line forming out the door a couple of hours before the designated start time. Sophia and Lucy were dressed to the nines, double checking that everything -- from the menu to the music -- was in order. The servers were dressing in period-appropriate waiter and waitress uniforms, and the trio of women singing were emulating a 1940s singing group to a T. While the musical act ran through their era-specific setlist, Sophia and Lucy shined up the finishing touches on the decor.

“Soph!” Lucy called out across the banquet hall, “do we need to alter the table settings? Caitlyn still has place cards for high-profile clients set out.”

“We can just toss the cards, since there’s no guest list and we’re closing the doors as max capacity,” Sophia replied, already plucking name cards from a nearby table.

“Do we have enough food?” Lucy continued.

“We’ve got the chefs cooking for one-hundred-fifty and there’s one-hundred seats. I think we’re okay,” Sophia smiled. “Calm down, Luce. Everything is going according to plan. Nobody can plan like we can.”

Finally, Lucy was able to calm down. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right.”

The women smiled at each other; everything was going to be perfect. Despite Lucy’s worries, they were well aware that this had been one of the smoothest events they had ever planned. Not having to please a bunch of snobby clients made the process a breeze.

With only a few minutes to go, Sophia and Lucy decided they were happy with the state of things. After a short breather, they told the doorman to begin letting guests in the hall.

Manhattan’s elite mingled with some lesser known citizens, filling the room and milling about the dance floor with freshly served drinks. The two event planners flitted about, adjusting table placements as necessary, making sure the food and drinks stayed well-stocked. The turnout was set to be huge, and within ten minutes of the doors opening, the hall was filled to capacity.

Once everyone had found their seat, Sophia made a brief yet spectacular speech welcoming everyone and thanking them for their donations -- with the total amount to be named later in the evening -- the musical act took to the stage. Drinks continued to flow, the appetizers were served, and the nostalgia of the songs pulled a few couples to the dance floor. Sophia and Lucy stood at the back of the room, admiring their handiwork.

“Ya know, Soph, I think we did a good job with this one,” Lucy mused, accepting a martini from the bartender.

“I think you’re right,” Sophia agreed. She sipped wine from the glass in her hand and took another cursory glance over the room, ever vigilant for any little thing that might go wrong.

“Everyone seems to be having a good time,” Lucy added. “And, speaking of a good time, I do believe that gentleman in the corner is eyeing you. He has been all night.”

Sophia choked her drink. “You’re kidding, right? Lucy, tonight is not the night for your games, friend.”

“I’m not playing games,” Lucy laughed. “See, over by the band? Tall, blond. Might have to call the doctor, since he’s been nursing that beer for over an hour. But, yes, friend, he keeps glancing over at you.”

“I think you’re full of shit,” Sophia mumbled, though she looked somewhat hopeful as she threw a casual glance in the direction Lucy had indicated. She locked eyes with the man Lucy had nodded toward.

“Still think I’m full of shit?”

Sophia scoffed, shaking her head before she downed the rest of her wine and set the glass on the bar. Yes, she had been hopeful seconds ago, but this man was beyond handsome -- and she was on the clock, to boot.

“Go, talk to him!” Lucy urged.

“Not a chance, Luce. We’re working, remember?”

Before Lucy could come up with a suitable response to change her friend’s mind, the man in question started towards the two women. When he was close enough for them to see he was, for certain, headed in their direction, Lucy whispered a quick ‘good luck’ in Sophia’s ear, then made herself busy checking on the status of supper.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man began, “but are you Sophia Hawkins?”

Sophia nodded. “I am. Can I help you with something?

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduced, extending a hand. When Sophia slipped her hand into his for a confident but cautious handshake, he continued. “I wanted to thank you for coordinating this event. It’s a great cause, and I’m very impressed with the level of authenticity.”

Sophia faltered for a moment, running through her mental files so could explain the familiarity of his name. She recovered quickly, pasting a polite, professional smile on her face.

“We did our best to make it as authentic as possible. My grandfather and great uncle were in World War II, and my co-planner, Lucy’s grandfather was in the war, as well. We were able to find a lot of photographic evidence to go off of.”

Steve hesitated, casting an uneasy glance at the ground before meeting her eyes again. “Yeah, my grandfather was in the war, too. I think he would appreciate how well you pulled it all off.”

“Why, thank you,” she smiled. They stood in silence for a moment, and Sophia noticed the authentic detail of the Army uniform Steve was wearing -- even with the best costume designers, nothing they had provided for the waitstaff or singers was this authentic. The longer she looked, the more familiar the uniform seemed.

Steve met her eyes. “Everything all right?”

Sophia nodded and quickly dismissed the strange familiarity as something she had seen in her own family’s photos. “Is the uniform your grandfather’s?”

Again, Steve hesitated, almost as though he was looking for the right words to answer an otherwise easy question. “It was. Found it in my mother’s attic before the event. Since time-period attire was required, seemed like the uniform was the way to go.”

“It suits you,” Sophia smiled. She turned away for a moment to ask the bartender for another glass of wine.

Steve quickly took a sip of his beer while he waited for her to return to their conversation. He looked around the room, catching sight of the dance floor; a warm blush creeped over his cheeks and down his neck. The tempo had changed from upbeat and quick to slow and steady. A surge of confidence swelled in his chest, pushing him to act on impulse. Steve finished off his beer and set the bottle on the counter, then extended his hand to Sophia again.

“Forgive me if I’m out of line, but would you like to dance, Ms. Hawkins?” Steve asked.

Sophia’s blush matched his as she turned to set the wine glass on the bar. She accepted Steve’s hand. “Call me Sophia, and I’d love to dance.”

The couple eased into a simple waltz as the music began to build from the first verse into the bridge of the song. They danced in silence through the chorus, concentrating on the steps before changing focus to each other.

“You told me about your family, but what made you decide to do an event open to the public? I’ve been told your firm generally caters Manhattan’s high-status citizens.”

“We do, you’re right,” Sophia confirmed. “Lucy and I have done so many of those, we wanted to do something different. We were looking through old family photos together one night, just for fun, and the idea to do a benefit for the military came to us. The USO theme followed.”

“I don’t want to sound like a broken record,” Steve smiled, “but you did a really fantastic job.”

Sophia showed her appreciation for his compliment with a modest smile. When the song ended, though she was reluctant to do so, she thanked Steve for the dance and turned to return to the bar.

“Sophia?” he called, gently grabbing her wrist to keep her from getting too far..

She turned to face him, brows raised in question. “Mm?”

“Would you want to get dinner some time? Maybe get to know each other better. Sometime when you’re not working.”

Sophia didn’t bother to stop the ear-to-ear grin that spread over her face. “I would love that.”

A pen was handy in the pocket of her dress, since she was, in fact, working. She took Steve’s hand again and jotted her number across his palm. She clicked the pen before putting it back in her pocket.

“I’ll call you in a few days,” Steve promised. “We’ll work out the details.”

“Sounds good.” Sophia nodded and winked at him. She turned to walk away, this time looking over her shoulder to add, “Thanks for the dance, Captain.”

He froze for a moment, fearing that Sophia was aware of his full identity. Her eyes glanced to the patches on his jacket before she turned away from him; that had been what tipped her off to the rank. When she was back at the bar and conversing with her friend, Steve looked down at the phone number written across his palm. With a suppressed but victorious smile, he worked his way back into the crowd.

@arrowsandmixtapes @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @growningupgeek @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @captain-rogers-beard @kitkatd7 @patzammit @sagechanoafterdark @what-is-your-plan-today

#steve rogers fanfiction #clint barton fanfiction #oc appreciation day 2020 #ocs are people too

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spahhzy · 4 years

Text

Myosotis. Pt.8 : Stormbound

The familiar light of the broken moon greeted her silver eyes once more. The gentle breeze and the swaying of tree's from the forest behind her filled her ears. "This is not the Bullhead" Ruby thought to herself but enjoying the feeling of serenity that the moon brought.

Looking away from the moon she could see Beacon down below, the moons light illuminating the academy from the darkness, really making it live up to its name.

"Ruby?"

Came the voice she has come to love and cherish much over their time together.

The crunching of grass from a pair of boots was audible and getting progressively louder until finally it stop right near her. Turning her head slightly upward she was met with the loving, bright smile of one Jaune Arc.

"What are you doing up out here so late?" Questioned the blonde as he sit down next to the rose, who just shrugged, still staring out into valley below.

"This place...is just soothing ya know?" She said to him and he just hummed to her in acknowledgement.

Silence fell again.

"Hey Rubes...this ain't a bad spot to get buried you think?" That caused Ruby to turn to look at him questioningly.

Jaune just continued looking out over the cliff.

"I mean look at the view!" He said pointing out below.

"Its dark Jaune but...sure I know what you mean" giggled Ruby , shuffling over a bit to lean against Jaune.

"Hey Rubes...if I die...mind burying me here?" Chuckled Jaune to which Ruby chuckled as well giving him a light slap on the shoulder.

"Sure Vomit Boy but that won't be till we are both old and grey how about we both get buried here" That statement caused Jaune to snort but nod in agreement.

"Great -yawn- glad we got burial placements out the way" said a sleepy Jaune to which he felt a shift as Ruby motioned him to come lay down in her lap.

Jaune heartily accepted the invitation and laid his head into her lap staring up at those loving silver eyes.

"Gotta tell ya Ruby...the moon ain't got nothing on you" he told her to which she blushed and ran a hair through his blonde hair.

In seconds the blonde knight fell asleep.

Ruby smiled at her adorable knight. Closing her eys she sighed contently.

She could stay here forever.

"Time waits for no one little rose"

Snapping her eyes back open she looked up to where she thought she heard the voice only to see that the night sky was tinged an eerie red.

Smoke started filling her nostrils and she turned her head towards the forest of which she treasured so much, Burning to the ground.

It wasn't until she tried to move her body that she couldn't. The horrifying realization set it.

"This is a nightmare"

"Oh sweet little rose...this is no nightmare"

She twisted her head to try and pinpoint the voice but it was seemingly everywhere!

Her eyes finally settled back to Beacon...or what remained.

Beacon laid in ruins. Fires all but consumed every inch of the school that had given hope to people. Now laid to ash.

No this can't be happening...who could have done such a thing!

"Oh we both know the answer to that"

That damned voice was teasing her now!

"Wh-who are you!?" She spoke out trying her best to remain calm as the voice just chuckled at her.

"You know who I am"

Ruby was sweating bullets trying to come up with an answer, the smoke from the forest fire behind her making it hard to breath.

"I am "

Ruby suddenly felt something very cold touch her cheek and she realized it was a hand.

Hyperventilating she looked down and was met with lifeless blue eyes and a bloody smile.

She screamed.

"Your reality"

Snapping back to reality Ruby jolted forward from her seat. Breathing heavily.

"Ruby" came the concerned voice of her knight. He gentle pulled her into a hug as she steady catched her breath.

"Did you have another nightmare?" He asked to which Ruby nodded. She reached to her side and opened up a bottled water and chugged it down immensely.

"Sis you okay?"came the concerned voice of Yang to which Ruby nodded but Yang was skeptical.

"Ruby... your crying" Yang said which caused Ruby to wipe her eyes with her shirt.

"I - I had another nightmare again..." she said to her sister who got up from her seat and proceeded to nudge Ruby to get up as well.

"Come on were going to the bathroom to clean you up" she said to her little sister with a tone that left no room for argument.

Ruby looking at Jaune who just smiled at her.

" go Rubes you know how yang can get" he teased and Ruby rolled her eyes before getting out of the seat and following yang to the bathroom.

Jaune just looked on as Ruby left, a frown visible.

This bullhead was unnecessarily big. Well thats what you get when you travel with anything from the schnee's.

"Can you believe it! this bathroom is almost as big as my room at home!" Yang said to Ruby who just looked around before going to a sink and turning on the cold water, she started applying it to her face.

"Was it the same nightmare as last time?" Her sister asked to which Ruby shook her head.

"No...this one was different...the forest was buring and beacon was in ruins...but their was this voice" she stopped and yang just raised a brow.

"A voice?" She questioned and Ruby sighed before applying more water to her face.

"What did the voice say?" To which for some reason Ruby hesitated to answer.

"Hey remember its just a nightmare... its not real" Her sister reassured her which calmed Ruby down.

" 'I am your reality'" I s what the voice said before their was screaming and I woke up" She said to her before looking at Yang, who for the most part looked unfazed.

"Hey give me one second imma go get you a towel" and on that note Yang exited quickly much to the confusion of Ruby but decided not to push it.

Sighing for what was the trillionth time before submerging her head under the cold stream of water trying to wash away the weariness.

"Running away...so unlike you"

Fear shot through Ruby like electricity as she shot her head up from the sink.

She looked around to find the bathroom completely empty. Shaking her head and swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned back towards the mirror.

But looking back at her was not her silver eyed self.

No staring back at her hauntingly with black scalera and red pupils with evil smile adorning her face.

Gasping before smashing her fist into the mirror , in a panic. Glass shattering and falling onto the floor. Ruby was beginning to hyperventilate again.

"Just breath Rubes...just breath" she said trying to calm herself down before wincing a little as she looked down at her right hand which was now bleeding from the shards of glass.

"Weiss is gonna kill me" she cursed to herself before collecting the pieces of glass, carefully to not cause more injuries, before throwing the shards in the trash.

Closing her eyes, she let out another shaky breath before turning to fix the cut on her hand.

She turned only to be met with black rob.

Slowly she tilts her head up to see the same evil smile and crimson red eyes looking down upon her.

Shaking her head slowly, and backing up in fear at who was in front of her..

"N-no but me and Jaune..we w-we killed you" Ruby stuttered terror flooding her body as her brain scrambled for a solution. She could NOT be here. Her and Jaune ended her in her own palace. Salem should no longer be ALIVE.

The woman brought a hand to her chin pretending to ponder.

"Oh if thats the case why am I here? Their are...other ways? Hmm to immortality...just ask dear ozzy" Salem taunted before moving forward which only caused Ruby to move a step back.

"Tsk tsk You are running away again, I see" she chided to the reaper, who in turn started whimpering in fear and tried backing up but each step she took, Salem got on step closer.

"Don't worry...you can only run so far from the truth...and I'm going to be with you" She said to Ruby who's back was now against the wall.

Salem bent down to Rubys ear, fear paralyzed the reaper who could do nothing but stare helplessly like a fish out of water.

"Every step of the way"

A gasp of air finally manged to make its way to Ruby as she looked around.

Salem was gone.

"Rubes I'm back had to get the towels from the other- Ruby!" Yang voice finally came through and soon enough lilac eyes looked at her in worry.

"Whats going on? Is everything al-oh my Ruby!" Summer came in rushing to her daughters side, who was now shaking in fear.

"Yang go get the med-kit we need to stitch the hand" all she heard was Yang running across the tile floor.

"Ruby sweetie look at me" Summer said sweetly which caused Ruby to look at her "its gonna be okay sweetie" but that did nothing and offered no comfort. She needed warmth, she needed comfort. Instantly her mind thought of one person.

"Jaune"

As soon as the name was said from her mouth, ocean blue eyes met her gaze and a tuft a blonde hair as bright as the sun appeared behind summer. A smile on his face as he wrapped a comforting arm around her.

"Its gonna be okay crater face...your gonna be okay"

And with that Ruby feel asleep.

---

"Mom...whats happening...only time it got this bad is when she..."

"I know yang I know..."

"Do you? I saw the fear in her eyes... Ruby isn't scared that easily mom..."

A sigh.

"Do you think Ruby...is...remembering?"

" for the life of me little dragon...I hope not...I don't think she can take it "

Yang looked out the window of the bullhead. Eyes red in anger as they saw the dark clouds forming.

A storm was coming.

Took longer then I wanted too really, my bad.

#rwby jaune #ruby x jaune #rwby lancaster

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

Text

Female Orc x Female Reader (NSFW)

Orc Lady MMA fighter! This story contains drinking, swearing, professional fighting, and gratuitous smut. Forewarned is forearmed!

----

Your family had always been avid watchers of what other humans would consider violent blood-sports. Modern cage fighting is an art, especially when you’re dealing with someone whose major mode of fighting is submissions and takedowns. There’s something incredibly thrilling about it, and considering they’re two consenting, sapient adults there’s nothing you feel guilty about when it comes to watching them fight each other.

Your sister-in-law, your brother’s wife, was having her first professional bout. She had started working at a BJJ gym when she moved to your city during college, before she ever met your brother. It isn’t that she had ever thought this is where her life would take her, she started taking classes in fact as a mode of self defense and a healthy physical outlet. Her being good at it came as a complete surprise to even herself.

Your brother was out of town on a business trip, a sad fact of life considering his profession and position within the company where he worked. Finance could be time consuming and thankless, but the paycheck he got from his work meant that Liz could pursue her new dream of going pro. As her sister now, and considering you’d always wanted a sister growing up, you took it upon yourself to support her whenever your brother couldn’t. You’d go to her bouts, cheer her on, go drinking when she won and when she lost, iced her bruises. You loved her like a true sibling.

So, when your brother couldn’t make her first big fight, you were incredibly flattered when she asked if you’d join her instead. You donned the tee shirt she had made for the fight with her fighter name on it and some sponsors, made sure you looked presentable enough for when you’ll inevitably wind up on camera with her, and settled in for the evening. Your day started hours before the doors opened, helping her get in the right headspace with music and jokes, helping her stretch out, keeping her calm and centered.

When the two of you made the trip over to the venue, a huge arena where the local professional basketball and hockey teams played, you were surprised to see people already waiting outside by the athlete’s entrance. You guessed they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the big names, but you knew enough about how these things were run to know that they wouldn’t arrive until at least a few fights into the undercard.

Liz’s fight was second to last on the undercard, so the house would likely be packed by that point. You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not, her placement on the card meant that more people would see her fight and therefore if she’s good enough in the cage tonight she’d get more followers and her pro career would start off on a great note. That being said, the performance anxiety of your first fight is hard enough you’d assume, if the way she’s been acting the last week is any indication, so making it harder on her by adding the pressure of a bunch of drunk, judgemental attendees doesn’t seem like it would be great.

The two of you traverse the back hallways, with passes that get you into the behind the scenes staging area. As one of the few women fighting tonight she was given a semi-private area to warm up and keep limber. All four of the undercard women were in the visitor’s locker room, although there had been privacy created with the use of moving screens that the maintenance crew had set up to create some relatively spacious individual cubicles. There was one main card title fight between two women, an orc defending her middleweight belt for the twelfth consecutive time and an upcoming athlete from Russia who was undefeated, those two each got their own private warmup space same as the men on the main card.

The two of you were the first ones here from Liz’s crew, a fact which amped her up and not in the good way. “Marcos said he’d be here at three, fuck me it’s already three fifteen, come on.” You pull her into a hug, smoothing your hands over the french-braided pigtails you’d helped her with earlier.

“Relax, sis, just relax. You know how the trains are at this time of year, if he isn’t here in the next twenty minutes I’ll call over to the gym and ask when he left, deal?” She huffs but nods against your shoulder, hugging you back. “Breathe with me, okay? Easy in, and out, nice and slow. You’ve got this, you’re going to go out there and kick some serious ass, and then we’re going to sit in our nice ring seats and celebrate by getting obliterated on vodka and soda like a normal Friday night.”

The laugh she gives you, shoving you away playfully, is what you were going for. “If you think I’m paying for the expensive garbage vodka they have here you’re out of your fucking mind.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling up the side of your tee shirt to show a large-ish hip flask, the one she gifted you when she asked you to be a bridesmaid.

“We’ll have to supplement it with a few expensive drinks, so we don’t raise too many eyebrows, but you know me better than that by now.” She reaches for it and you swat at her hand, wagging your finger in her face like a caricature of a mother. “No, bad Lizzy, no drinking before fighting.” She pouts at you and you can only laugh at her. “How mature, which one of us is older again?”

“Yeah yeah, I hate when you’re right. At least give me some water, you don’t want me in there all dehydrated. Help, I’m wasting away right before your eyes, dying of thirst.” She’s comically flopped across her bench, arm slung across her face in despair. The ‘oof’ she gives when you gently lob her water bottle at her stomach makes your snort out a laugh.

“Come on, don’t abuse my fighters before their bout.” Your shoulder is clapped by a huge hand and you turn to find the bright smile of Marcos, Liz’s coach, and his brother Julian her cutman. Her third corner man won’t be joining you until closer to fight time, coming from his normal day job to help out in her corner as he does in their training ring. Marcos and Julian are both objectively incredibly handsome men, if a little rough from years of fighting experience. Tall Brazilian walls of muscle, with tan skin and long curly black hair. Julian would probably be considered better looking, if only because Marcos has some serious cauliflower ear going and one broken nose that wasn’t quite set properly. They’re both quite tall and fit, but not really your type considering they’re packing some equipment you’re not into using.

Marcos gives you a serious look, but still warm. “You’ve done a good job keeping her head clear and relaxed today, thank you.” Liz is busy chatting with Julian and getting properly stretched out, and Marcos keeps his voice quiet enough that they don’t overhear. “It’s going to make tonight go much smoother if we can help her focus on the fight and not everything surrounding it, so thank you.” You just blush and smile, waving it off.

“She’s my sister, I love her, I want her to go out there and kick some ass. So, anything I can do to help I’m happy.” He beams at you, patting your cheek with almost fatherly affection.

“Good, you remind me of my brother. We’ll have to start training you to be in the corner with us if you can keep her this calm on a big fight day.” You laugh, but when he declares he’s serious answer back that you’re absolutely willing, but today is not the day to start.

The next few hours are a blur of keeping Liz distracted enough that she can slip into her fight-brain as she calls it, and before you know it you’re place in ringside seats reserved for families to watch the bouts waiting for her entrance song. At the first few bars of ‘Knights of Cydonia’ you stand up and start to cheer. You’ve got your cell phone out and recording, knowing she’s going to want to see later, and you go wild as she finally steps out onto the arena floor and makes her way towards the cage. She ignores you as she passes, but you don’t take it personally knowing that she’s got tunnel vision for the door.

Her opponent Bryn is currently 1-1, a half-orc from a relatively prominent gym in a neighboring state. She looks intimidating, considering she’s a few inches taller that your sister in law, but where Liz isn’t as tall she’s consideribly stockier, and their reach is surprisingly near equal in terms of measurements.

You’re sure the referee for Liz’s bout is a half-dwarf, if the insanely impressive braided beard down to his navel is anything to go by. When his hand goes down between the fighters, Liz and Bryn tap gloves before getting into their stances. It’s a few seconds of sizing each other up before Bryn goes in, closing the gap. She sends out a pretty telegraphed jab and Liz blocks it without trouble, answering with a blow to Bryn’s ribs that connects. Grasping the back of Bryn’s head, Liz tugs down to force Bryn’s face to meet Liz’s knee.

When Bryn’s head pops back up she’s sporting a cut on her nose, and she’s starting to leak blood down her cheek. She grimaces at Liz and snarls, you suppose it’s meant to intimidate her but she obviously doesn’t know Liz very well. Liz just roars right back and goes in for a takedown.

Bryn, you suppose, is a striker, if her lack of takedown defense is anything to go by. When Liz goes for her leg Bryn is a step too slow to dodge, and goes down like a sack of bricks onto the canvas. You cheer loudly “‘atta girl!” and watch with rapt attention as Liz locks her legs around Bryn’s arm. The grip she has on Bryn’s hand and the way she tugs forces Bryn’s elbow back over Liz’s hip. Bryn taps, the bell rings. You scream. Victory by submission in the first round, not even a minute in. You’re almost cackling with joy as Liz does a celebratory lap around the ring before being hoisted up by her coach.

She thanks you in her post fight interview, and you look like a deer in the headlights when a camera gets trained on you and you’re up on the jumbo-tron. Oh god, not like this. You smile a little shyly and give an awkward wave before the feed cuts back to your sister in law and you can relax. When she leaves the ring she grabs you from the seat and pulls you back with them. “Holy shit!” That’s about all the two of you can say for the next few minutes as you help her untape her hands and brush out her hair. She’s changed into more normal clothes and the two of you are back out at your seats for the main card fights just as they’re announcing the winner of the final undercard bout.

“You were great out there, good fight. You locked in that arm bar quick like nobody’s business, that’s a natural talent.” You watch as your sister in law starts to converse with arguably the most gorgeous orc woman you’ve ever seen. She’s tall just sitting, you don’t even want to hazard a guess at how tall she is standing. Her long hair is side shaved, and pushed over the top of her head to expose the bare side and her pointy ear. The cauliflower ear tells you she’s a fighter even before you notice how incredibly muscular she is. She’s broad with huge biceps and traps, her breasts are a bit small for her frame and she hasn’t bothered with implants, and you want to know if she has abs. You bet she does. She and Liz are talking shop, and you’re trying not to stare at this hot, hot orc. Liz glances at you knowingly, she knows your type, and snags her arm around your shoulders to pull you in over her, introducing you.

“Ushat, this is my sister in law and constant cheer section.” You introduce yourself by name to Ushat, and she shakes your hand with her huge and calloused one. She looks like she’s blushing a little when you two make eye contact, so you try to hit her with your sweetest and most affectionate smile, the one that’s melted more than a few hearts in your time.

“It’s really nice to meet you Ushat.” She’s definitely blushing now, but she smiles at you gently.

“If you two want to hold hands you could just say so and switch seats with me.” Liz smirks at you, and the two of you just now realize how long you’ve been shaking hands for. You both pull away like the other one is on fire, cheeks hot and stuttering out apologies. “So Ushat here is the current women’s heavyweight champ.” You stare over at her with wonder, which makes the green in her cheeks get darker as she blushes harder.

“Ah, yeah, y’know. Been fightin’ for a loooong time. Kinda orcish culture. I’m impressed your sister here was able to take down that half orc so handily. I think my kind tend to underestimate humans because some of you are very cute and small.” She smiles a little at you, her impressive tusks flashing in the low light of the arena. Liz, for what it’s worth, looks incredibly smug. Self-satisfied barely begins to describe it, she’s been talking about setting you up on a date for a long time but this kind of takes the cake.

“Alright ladies, I’m going to get a round of drinks. You two be sitting next to each other when I get back or no more flirting, I don’t want to be between the two of you anyway ‘m gonna get diabetes, you’ll ruin my career before it’s even started.” She’s jokingly frustrated and shoves the side of your face with the kind of aggressive affection only a sibling can manage.

Ushat is still blushing a dark green, her lightly mossy skin made dark emerald with it. She slings one of her huge arms over the back of the now vacant chair where Liz had been sitting. With her free hand she gestures a little shyly at the now free seat, looking satisfied if a little surprised when you blushingly sidle up next to her. Your thigh is soft compared to hers, you’re pretty sure anyone is soft compared to her considering how close she’s pressed against you. The way her stance widens in the chair ensures that you’re pressed together from knee to hip, and she even relaxes her posture some to press up against your side, your shoulder neatly tucked underneath her arm, your head slotting onto her shoulder like you two were made for each other.

Liz’s grin goes almost impossibly wide as she sees the two of you while walking back. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing how shy you and Ushat have been so far in your interactions she doesn’t want to run the risk of scaring you two apart. So she passes the drinks around instead and proposes a toast to new friends, the little eyebrow waggle at the end she just could repress. You snort a little laugh into your cup but take a deep drink, sighing at the light burn of the double pour. “The bartender gave us an extra pour on top because of how badass I was.” Liz preens, and Ushat gives her a proud grin.

“Rudolf doesn’t do that for just anyone, so you’ve made a good impression. Unsurprising! That fight really was great.” The two continue to talk shop over you, but you can’t find it in you to mind too much. You enjoy listening to the deep timbre of Ushat’s voice, and before you know it you’ve finished your drink, topped off by a healthy pour from the flask at your side, and snuggled further into the warm side of the orc next to you. When they announce the first fight and the first of the two fighters starts to walk out to their music Ushat begins clapping. She doesn’t pull away from you though, or remove her arm, no she crosses her other arm in front of you to basically pull you into an embrace. She isn’t giving thunderous applause, just enough to be polite, but it does pull you further against her to the point that you have to brace yourself up with a hand on her side.

When she stops applauding after the second fighter has made it to the ring you don’t make any moves to pull back. You keep yourself snuggled into her side, one hand resting on her firm stomach while your head is leaned fully against her shoulder. You’re definitely getting past the tipsy stage and into the drunk stage, if how affectionate you’re feeling is anything to go by. The arm Ushat has behind you shifts so that you’re corralled in the crook of her elbow while her hand lifts to thread her fingers in your hair. She smiles down at you, and you can only grin back up at her.

The night is kind of a blur, although you and Ushat have gotten to know each other better. Sometime around the fourth bout of the main card they announce that she’s in the arena, and she’s thrown up on the jumbotron with you still tucked into her arm. While the majority of you is cut out of the main shot, the camera does manage to catch her pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when she thinks they’ve cut away.

It’s late by the time the fights are over, the orc having successfully defended her belt once again and declaring herself the greatest. Ushat is pleased, passing on her congratulations in orcish with her arm still around you as the fighter passes by. When she stands for the first time that night you realize how huge she really is, the top of your head just barely reaches her clavicle. She laughs loudly, palming your head and tugging you close again. “You’re so dainty!” She sounds amused, pulling your hand up against hers and holding them palm to palm the tips of your fingers only reaching the first knuckle of hers. “Look! I can almost close my hand!”

It’s such a smooth move you don’t actually recognize it for what it is until the day after, and when she does in fact close her hand she laces her fingers through yours. She tugs you around and you follow without protest, her and Liz having become fast friends and Ushat taking Liz to meet some promoters and sponsors. You feel a bit like arm candy, the conversation mostly above you but you’re happy that Ushat and Liz want you there with them. It’s nearly five in the morning when you all leave and the three of you are sufficiently trashed. The stumble back to your apartment is a short three blocks, and Liz takes the pull out couch as she’s used to.

You’ve stripped off your jeans and shirt, your bra undone and halfway off you when Ushat walks into your room having come out of the bathroom. You freeze with your bra pressed up against your breasts by your hands but otherwise unsecured, and you can’t help staring at how much smooth and scarred green skin she’s showing. She’s in a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and black bikini cut panties. The grin she fixes you with is sultry, her dark eyes burning. “Don’t stop on my account kitten.” Her eyes rake over your bare legs and the way your panties hug your form, lingering on the softness of your stomach before moving up your neck to your blushing face.

You bite your lower lip in contemplation before slowly lowering your hands and letting you bra drop to the floor. Ushat lets out a low and pleasure growl, almost humming. She stalks up to you, towering over you and gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger. She stoops down to kiss you, and with a satisfied moan you slip your hands up her chest and over her shoulders to cling to her. Her huge hands caress up the back of your thighs and she takes advantage of your distraction to pick you up and toss you on the bed. She’s hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress, and she brings her hands up to cup them. Thumbing over your nipples she grins as you let out a whine of pleasure.

Ushat kisses you again, and the smooth cool surface of her tusks pressed against your soft cheeks. You surprise her by swiping your tongue along her lower lip first, and she opens her mouth to meet your tongue with her own. They caress each other, rather than wrestling for dominance, and when you lay back and allow her to explore your pliant mouth she knows it’s willing and not coerced.

One of her hands continues to grope and your breasts sloppily, moving back and forth with her attention as her other hand pushes down your stomach and under your panties. You tug your lips from hers to throw back your head and cry out for her. “Fuck, Ushat!” She chuckles huskily against your neck when you cry out for her.

“That’s the idea kitten, don’t worry ‘m’gonna take good care of you.” When her fingers push between your labia she finds you already wet and waiting, and she snarls against your neck. “Fuck baby, you been ready for me all night haven’tcha?” She bites down on your shoulder, chuckling again as your hips buck up into her hand. “Ushat knows whatcha want baby, I gotcha.” One of her thick, calloused fingers slowly pushes into your waiting pussy. She groans at how hot and tight you feel around just one of her fingers. “Fuck baby, you got a real tight pussy, gonna stretch you out nice and good.” She licks up your neck wetly, biting harshly at your earlobe as she pushes a second finger into you, angling her hand to rub your clit with her thumb. You let out a broken cry, tugging at her shirt in order to press against her skin on skin.

In order to avoid having to stop fingering you, she just tears off her shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor nearby as she smashes her lips against yours again. Your hands grope at her strong back and shoulders before moving around to her front, skimming up to palm her small breasts. Her dark nipples are begging for your mouth, and as if she knows what you’re thinking she shifts her position just enough to be leaning completely above you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy. She groans when you lift your head enough to take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking gently and flicking your tongue over the hardened bud.

She moves so her hips are just above yours, her legs splayed between yours and wrapped around your own so that you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to. She slowly leans down until you’re completely flush with her, held in control as she fingers your eager pussy. She has you pinned with her weight to the point where you can do literally nothing but moan and accept whatever it is she wants to give you. The broken sob of her name as she presses a third of her impossibly thick fingers inside of you makes her laugh, satisfied. She kisses the crown of your head, whispering praises. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll stop here for tonight, but eventually that cute little human pussy of yours is going to take my whole hand.” The way you twitch around her at the words makes her chuckle against your hair. “You like that thought huh kitten? At least this needy pussy of yours does.” She shoves her fingers in particularly harshly, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

She starts rubbing her thumb over your clit again, and your walls begin to flutter with the stimulation. “That’s it kitten, cum for me, gonna make you feel so good baby, that’s it.” You’re panting under her, trying to writhe or buck your hips or do literally anything, but Ushat just chuckles at your shifting muscles pinned under hers. “No baby just take it, you’re gonna take what I give you kitten. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

The way she growls that last sentence in your ear, paired with the endless stimulation of your clit and those thick rough fingers inside you, takes you over the edge. You cry out her name and tense underneath her, muscles screaming to contract or do anything. All your body can focus on is the feeling between your legs, considering it can’t do anything else with its excess energy. You can’t believe when you squirt against her hand, but she just gives a satisfied growl and slowly brings you back down to earth.

You’re half asleep by the time your heart rate calms down, and you notice Ushat is trying to climb out of bed. You pout up at her sleepily, grabbing her huge wrist. “Stay? Please? I know this was fast but I was kinda hoping you’d stick around.” She just grins at you, using her cleaner hand to thumb your cheek with open affection.

“Just gettin you a towel, kitten. Gotta clean you up.” She wanders half naked into the bathroom and brings back a damp hand towel to wipe up between your thighs, gently cleaning your labia with the warm cloth. She tosses the towel across the room into your laundry hamper and crawls back into the bed behind you. She pulls you back against her chest, wrapping you up in her warm embrace and burying her nose in your hair at the crown of your head.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, quickly seems to be the answer. You wake up to your bed shaking, and you whimper and cling closer to the pillow that seems to be jumping. It calms down slightly, still vibrating but less destructive. “Sorry kitten, go back to sleep.” You crack open an eye and glance up at just the right time to get a kiss on the forehead from Ushat, who stayed the full night with you.

She’s on her Instagram, posting a picture of the two of you from last night along with Liz. “Whatcha doin’?” Your sleepy voice makes her smile gently.

“Gettin’ some damage control done. I’m not about to have people accusing me of being ashamed of my girlfriend.” She flicks over to an article on some MMA site where the still of her placing a kiss to your head ringside is front and center. ‘Ushat Cruelbeast Spotted Getting Cozy With Fighter’s Sister!’ is the headline, and you snort. Really? So uncreative. “I like you, a lot, I want to date you. I don’t want people thinking I’m just using you to get under some other figher’s skin. Which is fucking ridiculous by the way, I mean we’re not even close to the same weight class and never will be, so why would I be dating you to get under the skin of a figher I’d never fight? Fuckin’ hetero dudes can’t fathom why a human girl might want to date a big scary orc girl. Or why a girl would want to date another girl at all really.”

Your laugh makes her laugh, and the two of you are cracking up in bed. It takes a few minutes to calm down and you find yourself draped over her chest while you rest your chin over her heart, looking up at her earnestly. “I don’t think you’re scary. I mean, you’re for sure huge, but you aren’t scary at all. You know the first thing I thought when I saw you was some variation of ‘oh no she’s too hot, I can’t talk to her, she’s way too hot.’” She snorts and buries her face into your hair, apparently her favorite thing to do whenever you embarrass her.

“Come on pretty kitty, let’s get dressed and join your sister for breakfast. Then, ‘m gonna go home and get changed to take you on a proper date. And then, kitten, we’re gonna start workin’ on that promise I made you last night.” Your answering whimper makes her laugh, and she stands while hefting you up over her shoulder. “Come on kitten, unless you want your sister walkin’ in and finding us like this.” She emphasizes her statement with a firm slap to your ass, making you laugh. This might be the best morning ever.

#Female Orc #Fem Orc #Female Reader #Fem Reader #WLW #Lesbian Love #Lesbian Fiction #my writing #exophilia

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90simaginesandfanfics · 4 years

Text

Cradle Broken Glass - Chapter Sixty Three

“I called on the phone earlier to make sure that the Centrepieces had been delivered and I was assured by whoever the fuck I talked to that they had been received and were being placed on the tables as we spoke. Clearly that was a fucking lie, so where the fuck are my centrepieces?” Ash bit out, her whole body tense and as she spoke to the manager. The pale faced man who looked like he was about to shit himself went to opened his mouth to respond when he was cut off again by the pissed off bride.

“Do you know who you’re dealing with here? Because as far as you’re concerned our wedding is going to bring hundreds of dollars in for your hotel. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought that Rolling Stone was going to be coming on Saturday to write an article on it. So if you don’t get me my fucking centrepieces then I’m assuming you want me to take my business elsewhere and allow them to benefit off of your mistake.” She finished. Ash was short, about 5”4, but the look on the man’s face made it seem like he was facing up to Goliath. And as much as she knew her best friend was letting her emotions get the best of her, Layla still felt afraid herself of what she would do if everything wasn’t in order for Saturday’s wedding and reception.

“Look, let’s all just calm down and talk to the delivery service. I’m sure we can figure out what’s happened and get it sorted out.” Jeff stepped in, trying to neutralise the situation.

“Do you have an office with a phone or something, somewhere where we can talk this out and try to fix it?” He continued and the owner nodded eagerly before directing them through a hallway on the side of the ballroom. Layla raised her hand up to her mouth, attempting to hide the laugh that was about her escape her when Ash turned back and gave her a glare, shutting her up immediately. The pair left the room but not before Jeff turned around to her and rolled his eyes as if to say ‘this is what I’m marrying into’.

She felt bad for him. No one could have predicted that Ash would get this tightly wound up over the wedding, but all the pressure from the press and media was making her feel like she needed to have everything perfect. Layla completely understood where she was coming from, but she could not wait for everything to be over so she would go back to the Ash that she knew. And she could bet Jeff felt the same.

But nothing could spoil the excitement that everyone was feeling for the next two days. It was all anyone had been talking about and Jeff was constantly being teased about settling down despite the fact that he had claimed he would stay a single man for the rest of his life. The two of them were perfect together and Layla smiled when she thought about how neither of them had realised the other had feelings for them at first. They were lucky that she was such a nosy best friend who played matchmaker and forced them to talk about how they felt. At least she was going to take the credit regardless of what anyone else said.

“What are you smiling about?” Eddie’s voice pulled her from her daydream and she noticed that she’d been staring into space for a while with a dreamy look on her face. She turned and looked at him briefly before moving around the tables and making sure that everything that needed to be on them was there and in perfect order.

“Nothing, just lost my head there for a while.” She replied with a neutral tone. She noticed that Eddie had been doing that more and more since they had seen each other again. Acting like everything was normal. He treated her like a friend, which she wasn’t complaining about, but it felt like there was a massive elephant in the room they were ignoring. And she didn’t understand how he could be so casual about it. They hadn’t had many interactions since but all of them had been polite. This was the first time they were talking after their dispute outside of the restaurant without someone else in the room, and she felt a sudden urgent awkwardness descend on them both as they made their way around the room, fixing placements and straightening the chairs.

“Is there a Layla here?” Someone said from the entrance of the ballroom and she turned to find the receptionist.

“Yes, that’s me, why?”

“Someone’s on the phone for you, they asked for a Layla. Didn’t give a name. You can use the landline in the corner, I’ve put them on line four.” She said before walking out of the room.

Layla looked around and spotted the phone. She could feel Eddie’s eyes on her as she walked over to it and picked up the receiver.

“Hello, Layla speaking.”

“You need to come back. These people here have no fucking clue what they’re doing. I asked one of them to get me some baby powder because I can’t get into all the latex without it, and the asshole comes back with icing sugar from the canteen like I’m not supposed to tell the difference between them. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that Layla, bake a fucking cake? Although I wouldn’t mind sticking my head in the oven if this tour doesn’t finish soon.” Trent’s voice whined through the phone and Layla had to stop herself from laughing as he went on and on about how bad things were without her there.

One thing she knew to be true was that Trent liked things done a certain way. He wasn’t a diva by any means but he also didn’t pay people to mess things up. He took music and performing very seriously and hated the thought of charging fans loads of money only for him to not perform a show that they were never going to forget. And that meant getting his latex and leather shorts on with baby powder.

“Look, it’s only a couple more weeks and then you can go home and sleep for the next year if you want to.” She replied, although she also wished she was on tour with him right now. She wouldn’t miss Ash’s wedding for the world, but in the short amount of time that they had known each other, her and Trent had become a sort of brother and sister pairing. They would stay up late to talk about all their problems. She would talk about her family’s death and abusive past and he would confide in her about his depression and drug taking. Neither of them were the most stable of people so to have someone to talk to that could understand the shit that you were going through helped. The one time that she had refused to talk to him about something was when he brought up Eddie. He of course knew that they had been in a relationship and wanted Layla to talk it out so that she wouldn’t bottle up all her feelings, but she quickly shut him down and they vowed that they wouldn't talk about it until she was comfortable.

“Look, I’ve got to go for soundcheck but I just wanted to call to see how you’re doing.” He said quieter and she could hear the concern in his voice.

“I’m fine, honestly. Just excited about the day after tomorrow.”

“Well I am too.” He responded and Layla’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Why?”

“Cause I have a date.” He stated and she started laughing, her cheeks hurting from the smile on her face.

“The Prince of Pain has finally taken his head out of his ass I see.” She joked and he scoffed down the phone.

“God, I’m not asking her to move in with me yet. Just dinner.”

“Well good luck, hope it goes well. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, I’ll call you before we leave New York.” They said their goodbyes and hung up. She turned back around to start up her task again, but saw that Eddie hadn’t moved from where he had been standing before, and he was staring at her intently.

“Problem?” she enquired, trying not to sound snarky.

“No, not at all. You just sounded excited to be talking to whoever you were talking to.” He said sheepishly.

“Yeah, well he’s a hoot.” Her sarcastic retort was meant to end the conversation but clearly he had other ideas.

“He?” She turned around to see him looking at her with a somewhat unreadable expression on her face.

“Yes, Trent.” She clarified, although she didn’t know why she felt the need to. It’s not like she owed him an answer.

“Oh, of course. Sure… You seem close.” He spoke slowly, as if trying to find the right words to continue on his little questioning he had going on. Layla huffed as she moved a chair out of her way to get to the next table.

“Well, he’s like family.”

“Oh.” Came what sounded like a relieved reply, which confused her.

“Oh?” She repeated, not knowing what his problem was.

“Yeah, I just thought you were together or something.” Eddie started to go back to arranging the tables, but this time Layla was the one who continued the conversation on.

“What does it matter if we were?” She asked accusingly but he wouldn’t look up from what he was doing now. She waited for him to reply and after he realised she wouldn’t stop looking at him until he did, he sighed exasperatedly.

“It doesn’t. I just thought it was a high possibility. I don’t care about it so can we please just get on with it.” He near pleaded, although she could hear frustration in his voice. It didn’t matter though as she processed his words, her mind jumping to every conclusion possible.

“What, do you think I’m not capable of holding down a job in this business without getting involved with people who could help my career out? Should have known your opinion of me hadn’t changed.” She huffed out and walked away from him, her blood now boiling. Before she could walk more than a few steps, a hand grabbed her by the arm and she spun around to face Eddie’s flustered and panicked face.

“That is not what I meant by that at all and you know it. And I’ve never had that opinion of you. Not now or ever.” Their eye contact was so intense that she had to look away, and she pulled her arm out of his grip quickly. She hadn’t been touched by him in over two years, and the contact had made her feel warm and dizzy, something she had no business feeling. But even after all this time she couldn’t help that he was so fucking handsome and had so much of a fucking effect on her and she hated it. And what she hated more was that every time she looked at his face she saw the Eddie she met at the record store, the Eddie who had made her feel human for the first time. She could barely even recognise him as the one who had made her feel so small to the point where she left him.

And not being able to see the Eddie who had hurt her was making her forget about the reasons they weren’t together in the first place.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or suggest anything like that. It’s just… It’s just seeing you after all this time has fucked me up a bit. Not that I wasn’t fucked up before.” He continued and Layla just stared at him while he opened up. They had acted like they barely shared a history in the weeks leading up to the wedding and now she knew they were going to have to confront it.

“When you left I was a mess. I could barely even stand to wake up in the morning. I hated the album we’d made, I hated the tour that we had to do. And I was drinking even more than I was before if you could believe it. And then I realised how fucking selfish I was. I thought that if I could do anything to make it up to you, then I owe you getting better. I stopped drinking. Stopped everything really. I know that doesn’t change anything and whatever you felt for me is long over, but I made sure that the next time I saw you, you would be proud of what I’d done for myself, for you.” His eyes were desperately flitting around the room as he tried to get through it, but she had no words to give back to him.

“And then Jeff and Ash got engaged and I knew this was gonna be it. And I was so nervous to see you again. But I felt dead inside the minute I saw you because you looked at me like I was nothing. And that hurts more than if you’d have looked at me with anger and disgust. You looked at me like I had meant nothing to you. And it made me feel like everything I’d done was for nothing. And I know I have no right to feel this way, but the thought of you with someone else makes me feel like I’m having my heart ripped out. Because the thought of you looking at someone the way you used to look at me fucking hurts. It makes me feel like we didn’t have anything at all.”

She had no idea what to say.

What do you say to that?

They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, neither knowing how to address what had just been said.

“Thank God that’s sorted out. Do you two want to go grab some chinese with us, I’m starving?” Ash’s voice cut into the ballroom, the space so massive yet so stifling at the same time.

“No, I’m going to go home and sort some stuff out. I’ll see you guys later.” Eddie said, his whole demeanour the perfect picture of disappointment. He walked out before Layla could even get a good look at his face.

What was she supposed to tell him? Did he want her to say something back now? Or were they supposed to go back to pretend each other didn’t exist?

The wedding was going to be eventful.

*****

Finally managed to get a chapter done, and it seems tension is building between Layla and Eddie. How do you think the wedding is going to go down, any predictions? Hope you all have an amazing week ahead and sending all my love to everyone who’s still reading xx

#eddie vedder #Eddie Vedder Fanfic #eddievedderfanfiction #grunge #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction #Pearl Jam #pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #cradle broken glass #imagine #imagines #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #90s #nirvana #soundgarden #alice in chains

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xielanji · 4 years

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supposedly happy | wangxian au (given)

listen to this while reading

inspired by the anime given

angst

one shot

The feeling of performing on stage for the first time. Nervousness? Adrenaline rush? Exciting? Scary?. Lan Wangji is having mixed feelings , it was his first time standing at the middle of the stage after all. Anyone would've never guessed he was feeling that way , his dull expressions would only be visible for them but to the ones close to him could tell he’s actually anxious. Not many people could read Lan Wangji; his Uncle ,his brother and him.

If it wasn’t for Mo Xuanyu accidentally hearing him humm a song, he wouldn’t have been there at the center. He found a friend in Mo Xuanyu, in fact he was the one that encouraged him to write lyrics for the band. Lan Wangji wasn’t good at expressing feelings so naturally it took weeks before he finally found inspiration in writing one, focusing on his muse and deeper feelings. And then it was time for their performance, their band name ‘Light’ was called.

The air felt different, along with the cheers from the audience. Lan Wangji’s limbs were shaking uncontrollably, but when he took a deep breath and looked at the crowd he snapped out of it and went back to reality. The drummer tapped his drumsticks and counted down to three and finally he strummed his guitar, hand placements were messy but tolerable. After the intro the music toned down into a slower beat, the crowd were wide eyed along with his band members when he started singing.

Just like The snow that won't completely melt away ,I keep with me these feelings deep inside .Just let me know the words Should I just close Now ,The door that guards strongly this love?

In his mind all he could think about was that one person. He met him one summer, asking him to be his friend, Lan Wangji was just peacefully sitting at the swing then. In Lan Wangji’s nature, he couldn’t keep up on the latter’s energy, as a teenager it was given that the latter would have that much energy, enough to tire Lan Wangji out. After all of the things the latter have done, Lan Wangji felt his heart beating faster than normal every time he smiles at him.

It wasn’t in his plan but as time went by, the feelings were deeper and he couldn’t hide it anymore so instead he hid himself away from him and everyone, afraid of his feelings being found out. The latter kept on knocking at Lan Wangji’s door. The door that separates both of their hearts, once it's opened then there’s no turning back at all. Lan Wangji with the hopes of his feelings melting away only grew stronger when he was held in the latter’s arms.

You're my everything and now,My soul keeps calling for you And,now I am completely in love.

Lan Wangji then decided to embrace the other and be unrestrained when it comes to falling deeper. He still remembers the way they kissed for the first time, under the street lamps at midnight. The way he looked down at the shorter man’s face, his smile brighter than any lights or stars above them, the eyes shining as if Lan Wangji was the only one in the world, he was his world.

He wouldn’t forget about the times he’d quarrel with his family to fight for him, the times where it’s just the both of them against everyone. He was Lan Wangji’s everything and he couldn’t afford to lose him.

Just walk right now along with me. Through all the ways that we can go.I ask right now don't let me go. With no goodbyes or moving on. Just stay with me, wherever I go

Lan Wangji singed his heart out, emotions filled with regrets and unspoken words finally being expressed,but with no one receiving those on the other end of the line. It was like there was a projector playing all of the memories he had with this man, all he could think about right now was him, and only him. He messed up a few chords from time to time. He sang along with the heavy burdens in his heart, all he wanted was to walk with him until the end. Without any warnings nor letters, he ended his own life.

Don't let me be alone,The spell or maybe curse has not been broken yet. I'm still holding the baggage that I had, Just please relieve this pain.

Everyday he carried the pain of losing his loved one, although he continued existing, there was no reason to live anymore. It was a long time since he felt he was truly alone again. Ever since he got into his life, the once dull and colorless world Lan Wangji suddenly bursts with colors. The strong feeling of regret still surrounds his mind, he wished he could have stood beside him, he wished he told him what he was feeling, he wished that he could at least take away his pain. It was noticeable, something changed, but he shrugged it off knowing that he probably wouldn’t tell him because he doesn't want Lan Wangji to worry. He wished and still wishes that he’s right next to him.

He never really thought he would say goodbye to him one day, until now he daren’t say goodbye because Lan Wangji was still holding on to that small bit of hope that he would hold his hands again.

Hey, what's our future? What should I keep on waiting for? What am I supposed to find? In this cold place, let me know.

The days after his death, Lan Wangji found himself strolling around the places they used to go together. The familiar scenarios , signs and even the vendors were still there, but the person he went with wasn’t. Lan Wangji hoped that he’d bump into him, impossible but he was still hoping it could happen, that one day he would wake up from this nightmare with him laying by his side. It took Lan Wangji a few weeks to sink in that he’s never coming back, he broke down at the swing he once sat at the day he met the boy, until he got used to going to that certain place almost everyday as if he’s waiting for someone that will never come.

In the end, when the sun loses its light and the moon shows up, he would call it a day and return to his house.

The tears are falling from my eyes, They're freezing everything inside. Under this beautiful blue sky, They're just pretending to be kind

He could feel it, the numbness. Lan Wangji just wanted to cry, but he can’t. He clutched his chest, Lan Wangji lost control. In reality even if he wanted to scream all the pain away, there was no one willing to listen and understand him. Lan Wangji picked up the red guitar, not knowing what to do with it, only memories of him playing a song for Lan Wangji lingers when he eyes the guitar.

Lan Wangji didn’t notice himself tearing up as he sang the words that were meant for him. Mo Xuanyu even spotted some people wiping their eyes, the way Lan Wangji sang made them feel like they were mourning too, he was so emotional that even the others could empathize with him.

And around the time. they fall down my face. Two people who were always together are torn apart.

That's all there is to this story.

“Wei Ying”, the boy hummed in response, “Wei Wuxian” Lan Wangji held his hands, “I love you”. Wei Wuxian didn’t expect Lan Wangji to say those three words first, so Wei Wuxian said, “ Lan Zhan! I love you, I fancy you, I want you, I whatever you”, hugging Lan Wangji tight, never wanting to let go of his embrace. Two people molded perfectly with each other, The sun that gives his light to the moon and the moon that wouldn’t shine without the sun. The total opposite of each other’s personality binded by love that made them fit for one another. A happy love story, supposedly happy.

Lan Wangji still can’t forgive himself when one day before Wei Wuxian’s passing, he blurred out the words he never really meant. “Are you willing to die for me then?” Lan Wangji coldy told Wei Wuxian, it was out of anger. Those words pierced through Wei Wuxian’s heart. The next thing Lan Wangji knew after they parted ways, He went to Wei Wuxian’s house to apologize, but what welcomed him was the sight he’d never forget. It wasn’t supposed to happen, they were supposed to end up growing old together.

Just like that, the two people that could barely be seen without the other were torn apart. An unfortunate ending of a supposedly happy love story. In Wei Wuxian’s mind, he proved to Lan Wangji how much he loved him.

Even if your everything loses its shape one day,You'll always be here within me. As I try to move forward again, Even though I couldn't say goodbye. You'll always be here with me

Lan Wangji, who didn’t have a high tolerance on alcohol, drank a few bottles. The next day he woke up with a red rose tattooed on his left chest, it was Wei Wuxian’s favorite flower. Even if he was intoxicated when he got the tattoo, he did not regret having it for it would mean that wherever he goes it means that Wei Wuxian will always be with him in his heart. He then looked up and said, “Wei Ying, I’m sorry” his voice shaking and his tired eyes were once again spilling out tears.

The song came to an end and he quickly went back, he rode his motorcycle and ran away. Lan Wangji sat again on the swing, it was midnight when he got to the playground. Lan Wangji looked at the moon and smiled, his hands on his heart, a habit he developed when he remembers Wei Wuxian,

“Wei Ying, did you hear me sing tonight? I wrote that song only for you. Wei Ying, tonight I was very brave, you will always be my source of strength, I did all of that so you could hear me up there. I’m still sorry Wei Ying, I love you so much and I am missing you more and more each day.” Lan Wangji lowered his head down, tears running down his face, he took one last look at the moon and said,“Take care of me, Wei Ying.”

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gone-dw-abt-it · 4 years

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hey

send in some ideas for gem star sanses (I’mma call ‘em the Starlight Sanses or Starlight Gems).

I need ideas/questions to go off of them for some development into them and can’t figure anything out without something to go off of.

here’s so far the ideas:

Dream is a Vivianite, a gem that has a green/blue inside but gets darker on the outside and essentially means/has healing/love/positive influences. or an Amber due to the healing properties and color, he’s gonna have wings (babey ones tho) and his sparkle stick/staff still gem placement is gonna be on the collar bone of where the “DS” on his attire it, still a debate tho.

Blue is a baroque pearl, he’s prepy, he’s a mom, but he’s not perfect enough to be a pearl, so he’s a messed up, melted looking imperfect but perfect baroque pearl. Probably on one of his hands or of his chest where his “armour” kingdom marking commonly is.

Ink is a rainbow amethyst for personality and how he seems to match up well with the amethyst’s meanings or a white spinel since he has found a coping mechanism(crystal shards/ink to feel) and try to bottle up everything, might be carved like art deco resulting in him hiding the gem when he can and his eye(lights?) changing form constantly. OR a fractured/broken Ammolite since he is a rainbow, fragile, old, and has no clue the surrounding mood until after stating something.

Send me ideas and I’ll confirm, deny or expand on them since I’m the one drawing this jazz into existence. These are going to be the only “canon” gems they could/will be until a gem that fits them entirely works.

#starlight gems #starlight Sanses

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sml8180 · 5 years

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Focus

Another Ego fic! This time with Eric! Based off another prompt I found (Focus on me, okay?). Eric end up suffering from a panic attack, and Dark does what he can to help, because he understands that sort of situation more than he would ever let on.

Heads up for the following: Mentions of gunfire, panic attack, description of panic attack symptoms, mention of PTSD.

Focus

Eric Derekson hadn’t had an easy life by any means. He had lost his brothers, his mother, his girlfriend, his pets, and now only had his father, who wasn’t the caring type. Derek was overbearing, in a way, and extremely pushy with Eric; he forced him in front of the camera to film commercials, belittled him for being so anxious, and constantly compared him to his late brothers, all while claiming that Eric would never live up to the family name. It was no wonder Eric was constantly anxious and wary of everything around him.

With some under the table help from Dr. Iplier, though, he was making slow progress. It was very slow progress, but it was at least something, and that was better than nothing. The doctor had adjusted Eric’s prosthetic legs, making it so they fit better and didn’t pinch like they had been, and had started to teach Eric ways to manage his anxiety. It was slow going, and sometimes difficult, with Derek being against the idea that his son could even be helped and being extremely set in his ways.

Eric often had issues communicating with his father, but the opportunity he’d been told of by Dr. Iplier had him excited enough that he forced himself to confront the man. He had told his father that he had learned about a television studio not too far away from them that was looking to hire an audio-video technician. Derek initially shrugged this off, but begrudgingly agreed to allow Eric to go in for the interview when he learned that the pay Eric could make would be enough for him to hire someone more competent than his son.

Eric had rehearsed what he would say until the moment he was brought in for his interview. There were points where he stumbled a bit under the cold gaze of the man across the desk from him, he stammered through some of the questions, but did his best to make it clear that he knew what he was talking about when it came to the specifics of what he would be doing. He’d been interested in what went on behind the scenes of television broadcasts since he was a child, and the occasions where his father allowed him to stay behind the camera had allowed him to learn quite a bit. In the end, things had gone fairly well; with Eric’s knowledge and clear desire to learn, and Dr. Iplier’s recommendation, the young man got the job.

At first, Eric had been his usual anxious self. He tried his best not to screw up, starting out on the set of a news program run by a set of twins. They were energetic, and the camera work was sometimes fast and loose, but it was clear that their usual cameraman was glad to have an extra set of hands. Eric was able to help set up a switch system for their cameras, so that the usual tech could change between them more easily. After a few weeks, Eric was put on the set of a game show, but the noise proved to be too much for him, and he was moved to another set, Warfstache Tonight.

The Warfstache set was still chaotic, but the main showrunner made sure to keep the peace as much as she could. Eric seemed to fit right in on the set; he made suggestions concerning the placement of lights to cut down on awkward or distracting shadows, set up the cameras to better catch the faces of Wilford and his guests, and suggested they look into getting newer lavalier microphones, as the ones they were using were older and bulkier.

The thing with anxiety, though, is that someone can be doing well for a while, but it can take just one small thing to cause them great distress. Eric’s run of doing well was broken by a shot being fired from the revolver Wilford kept at his desk. The young man could feel the coil of panic tighten in his chest at the noise and stepped back from the camera. A second shot rang out, and Eric found he was shaking and it was getting harder to breathe. He ran out after a third shot was fired; he wasn’t thinking about anything but getting away from the noise.

Dark was forcing himself to take a break from his work. He was walking the halls of the office floor, checking in on the Google brothers and Host when he heard gunfire on the floor below them. He shook his head, knowing that it was Wilford slipping back to his old ways. The man didn’t think it would be worth the aggravation to go down and investigate; Kathryn would call him down if she couldn’t handle the situation on her own. Instead, he made his way to the bathroom, looking to check on his eyeliner, out of habit, mostly. When he went to enter, though, he was met with a surprise.

Rather than the usual silence, Dark could hear sniffling. None of the stalls seemed to be occupied at first glance, as none of them were locked, but one stall, down at the end of the row, was mostly shut, and Dark could see that there was somebody sitting on the floor. It wasn’t much of a mystery as to who it was.

“Eric?” Dark quietly addressed, approaching the stall where the young man had hidden himself away. He got no response as he got closer to the door, and he was able to see Eric sitting on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest, wringing his yellow handkerchief in his hands, while his head was down, hiding part of his face and his glasses which were fogging up from the heat of his face meeting the cool air in the bathroom. Dark knelt down near the young man, trying to think of what to do.

With everything that went on in his head, and everything he had experienced, Dark himself had developed anxiety; Dr. Iplier even brought up the possibility of him having PTSD, and Dark couldn’t disagree with that. He did his best to keep these things to himself, considering he had to manage most of the studio and keep his fellow egos in line. His symptoms weren’t usually all that intrusive, but there were days where Dark found it nearly impossible to function. Thus, Dr. Iplier had taught him a handful of techniques that helped. Now wasn’t the time for anything complicated, though. Eric needed something simple; he needed something to steady his breathing and to ground him.

“Eric, look at me,” Dark calmly urged. When the younger ego didn’t even glance up, he set a hand on his shoulder.

Eric looked up at Dark, looking at the man through his foggy glasses. His chest felt tight, and he couldn’t breathe easily. His hands were shaking as he held his handkerchief tight.

Dark carefully took Eric’s glasses off him, taking his own handkerchief out and wiping them clean before putting them back on the young man’s face. “Just focus on me, okay?” he suggested, keeping his voice calm and level. Eric nodded, and Dark returned the gesture, shifting to sit cross legged on the floor. He urged the young man in front of him to do the same, keeping a hand on his shoulder. The man carefully took one of Eric’s wrists in his hand, bringing the young man’s hand towards him, lightly pressing his hand to his chest.

Eric’s heart was still hammering in his chest, while his mind raced. He was trying his best to focus on the man in front of him, watching as the older ego held his hand to his chest, the grip on his wrist firm but caring.

“Focus on me,” Dark urged, his voice pulling Eric’s gaze to his face. “I want you to breathe with me, slow and deep,” he instructed. Before Eric was able to respond in any way, Dark began to take a deep breath, going slow and making sure Eric was following his lead. After holding the breath for a few seconds, he slowly exhaled. Dark didn’t need to breathe, not like the others did, but he had found that taking deep breaths even helped him, as it was something to focus on. He repeated the same cycle with Eric a few times, helping him settle his breathing, keeping the young man’s focus on him the entire time.

The young man focused on the figure in front of him. His breathing was slowing to a normal rate again, and his heart no longer felt like it was going to break through his chest. His thoughts had calmed down, as well, the panicked fog lifting.

“There we go,” Dark mused, his voice still soft as he let go of Eric’s wrist. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“I-I-I don’t know why… He, he just s-started shooting…” Eric stammered. His voice was hoarse from crying, and his throat was tight and dry, making his voice more quiet than usual. He could hardly remember what had even happened; the last thing he remembered was the gunfire, he couldn’t even recall why Wilford had started shooting in the first place.

“It’s alright, don’t get yourself worked up again. Host isn’t around today, but if you think it’ll help, we can get you a bottle of water and you can sit in my office where it’s quiet while I talk to Wilford. How does that sound?”

Eric could only nod, finding his throat too sore to speak up. He watched as Dark stood, and took his hand, pulling himself up. His legs were a bit shaky from the last bit of adrenaline coursing through his system, and there was no doubt he’d be exhausted for most of the afternoon because of the inevitable crash that was going to hit him. The young man walked with Dark, and the pair stopped to get Eric a bottle of water before going to Dark’s office.

He sat down on the black sofa in the office, taking a sip of his water while he watched Dark leave to talk with Wilford. Eric wasn’t sure how long he was alone in Dark’s office before the grey ego came back. The man didn’t seem much different than he usually was, he didn’t seem overly upset or annoyed, which Eric could only assume was a good thing.

“Kathryn is taking care of things,” Dark told Eric, sitting on the sofa, making sure Eric had a comfortable amount of space. “Wilford still has his job, for now, anyways. The next time he’s filming, either she or I will be on set with you, to make sure he doesn’t pull this sort of stunt again.”

“Thank you…” Eric replied, his voice still sounding a bit rough. “How did you learn how to do that…?”

“The deep breathing?” Dark questioned, looking towards the young man. Eric nodded. “Dr. Iplier taught me. Sometimes you just need something to focus on.”

“Do… Do you ever, u-um,” Eric began, uncertain of just how he should phrase what he wanted to ask.

“Get anxious? Have panic attacks?”

“Y-yeah…”

“I do. Not often, but sometimes.”

Eric looked at Dark, seeming a bit surprised at the response. “I never would have thought…”

“I manage it well. With Dr. Iplier’s help, I have more good days than bad ones. The important thing is to find something that works, whatever that might be. What I’ve found works for me is to just have something to focus on.”

“Like breathing.”

“Exactly. If you find yourself getting too worked up, just take deep breaths and count, just like we did today. Find something simple, and focus on it; ground yourself.”

“Alright,” Eric mumbled. The younger ego did his best to stifle a yawn, but the adrenaline crash was hitting him hard, tiring him out.

“I told Wilford and Kathryn that you would be here recovering,” Dark told him. “Katherine said you can stay with me as long as you need. Get some rest, Eric,” he suggested.

Eric nodded a bit, setting his water aside and settling on the sofa. It wasn’t long before he started to drift off, falling asleep in the quiet office. Dark pulled the dark red throw blanket off the back of the sofa and carefully draped it over the young man, before heading over to his desk. He kept an eye on Eric for a few moments, and soon started to settle in to his work, simply letting the other ego rest. It seemed Dr. Iplier had been right the last time they spoke about Eric. He, like Dark, needed something to focus on, and though Dark couldn’t do much for him, he could at least give him that; he could provide something Eric could focus on.

#markiplier egos #eric derekson #Darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #dr. iplier #derek derekson #kathryn knutsen #tw: gun mention #tw: panic attack #ptsd mention #eric deserves better #dark can be gentle when he wants to be #long post

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