#this is very lazy but I’ve had it on my mind for a few days

[sinningtamer]

previously skinny vampire gets a bf and faces the consequences of newfound greed

(a few months post-canon…)

[samkerrworshipper]

the lawn is dead. pt.2

hi! i wrote a part 2! i’m on a unofficial hiatus but had some inspiration the last few days and had to finish this. hope it provides a little bit more comfort then the last chapter .. sorry xo

warnings: suicidal themes, self harm themes, themes of depression, anxiety, dark thoughts. viewer discretion advised.

You can describe the carpet of this office better then most people can describe themselves.

It’s a rug, for the most part, except for the where it’s clear a person has chosen laziness in favour of lifting up the heavier furniture to place the rug down underneath it. Where the rug doesn’t cover, there is bleak grey carpet that feels more boring then the time you spend in this room.

Where the carpet lacks in literally everything, the rug makes up for it blindingly.

It’s a messy mixture of far too many colours, pinks, purples, blues, greens and neutrals. It doesn’t make any sense in your mind, why somebody would chose for the focal point of their room to be a rug that doesn’t match with any of the furniture. It’s another sign that the furniture came before the rug, all of the furniture is dark mahogany, beautiful pieces that look as if they’ve come from and English period piece, whereas the rug looks so modern it’s almost painful.

The rest of the furniture has been picked with similar taste.

The painting on the wall looks like what a child would vomit after going to a birthday party. Every time you’ve come here you’ve had a new analogy, but this week that is the one, it looks like stomach contents and you can’t get past it, to the point it’s made you physically nauseated.

From the painting moves onto the bookshelf, where there is a odd mix of medical textbooks, classics and selfawareness books, all stacked in such disarray that you have to keep your eyes away because it makes you uncomfortable.

Beyond the furniture is your psychologist, with her stupid fucking note pad, stupid glasses perched on the very tip of her nose and stupidly calm face that never really changed.

She was supposed to be a specialist, the best of the best, supposed to be the greatest and getting to the bottom of the most famous athletes problems and yet you found pride in alluding her.

One hour, every four days was what you were down to now, a couple of weeks ago it had been every other day and that had been fucking torture.

Sometimes all you wanted to do was rip her eyeballs out, or her brains, or something else. You swore she made your ears bleed and your will to live deteriorate with every second and it was already pretty low.

“You can’t avoid my question forever.”

It was also that annoying tone that sent you, the sort of tone that meant she knew that technically for the whole of the hour she could ask you whatever she pleased and you were technically supposed to answer her. Defiance on your end just ended up in you being suspended from something else that made your life just a tiny bit more liveable.

“No, I haven’t talked to Mapi yet.”

You’ve been avoiding it, there have bits and pieces of homework from your therapist, but this one is by far the hardest.

“How about Alexia, how does she feel about that.”

You don’t want to tell her that you and Alexia are in shambles as it is, add on the pressure of her best friend being psychologically destroyed because of you and just talking about any of it at all and it’s like dynamite.

“Supportive.”

Your therapist nods, but in the way that you know she doesn’t quite believe you.

“Have you started to reintegrate with the team? I know last time we talked you mentioned that before the incident you’d been feeling quite isolated because of your ankle injury. It’s important that you start to normalise your life again before you start to self isolate.”

You don’t call it self-isolation, you like to call it self protection. You protect yourself by pushing against the grain, by keeping to yourself. It’s a lot easier that way.

“I’ve been busy.”

It’s a lie and a blatant one, your days are filled with complete nothingness. You can’t play football, not until she clears you, and you know that it’s not going to happen anytime soon based on the trend of your current sessions. There has been the same amount of progress as there was two weeks ago when you started with her. You shut down at every attempt she makes to try and open you up, you talk when you have to. It’ll probably get you sent back to a ward. You don’t remember much from your transition from the hospital to home, but you do remember signing something that referred to you making significant process or else you would be sent back.

Progress for your therapist is getting more then two word responses from you. You’re aware she’s in kahoots with Alexia, that Alexia is probably providing her more information then you are.

“You’re giving me the look that means that you’re writing something down along the lines of ‘unncooperative’.”

She is also in kahoots with the staff at Barcelona, another thing you signed was that she would work in conjunction with the clubs doctors to get you back to where you were, or somewhere in the vicinity.

They know every time you have a bad session, you’re guaranteed a consolation call from one of the coaches or even sometimes a teammate check-in telling you how brave you are and how strong you are for doing this.

You don’t agree, you nearly took the cowards way out and you’re proud of it. You wish it had fucking worked, every single second, of every single day, you wish you’d succeeded, wished that this hadn’t all ended up how it did.

“That’s not what I wrote, I wrote a observation. Uncooperative would be you refusing to speak to me like you did for our first two sessions, even if you lie it’s still trying.”

You don’t want to be curious of her, you’ve tried to give her as little attention as possible.

You’ve adapted the act that you call, therapised you.

You do your best job of smiling here and there, or at least when you know that you’re supposed to. Therapised you extends to a few people, Alexia, coaches, physios, people on the street.

You believe you’ve become a seasoned liar.

The funniest part is that sometimes you start to believe your act, you start to believe that all the ash and embers in your chest is really alight with flames, like you’re truly alive.

But then, you would pause, sit down, lie down, dissasociate and you would be reminded that that wasn’t your body. Your body wasn’t a place of life and prosper, it was as dead as anywhere else.

“What was the observation?”

You try not to be curious over her, or curious in general, you keep everything to yourself.

“You’ve told me time and time again that you attempted because you believed that not a single person would care if you were gone. Yet you wrote a letter, you knew that somebody would care, somebody would miss you. Guilt is what kept you from doing it earlier and guilt was what kept you from vanishing without a trace. Your conscience was clean in your own words, but that’s not true, your conscience was anything but clean. So what pushed you over?”

You hate that therapists have a way of worming out weird bits of information that they can use against you to worm out more bits of information, like they know your brain inside to out.

“My conscience was clean.”

Your therapist pulls her glasses up from her nose and scribbles on her pad again.

“Why’d you write a note then, specifically why did you write a note to your ex girlfriend?”

There are so many things you could say to that, but you can’t quite find the words.

“Let me rephrase to make it easier. When you were in the hospital, and Alexia reacted so viscerally, you weren’t surprised. You expected her to feel something about what happened, you didn’t seem surprised at all by her words or actions. You knew that she was going to be hurt by what you did. So, how was your conscience truly clean?”

Thinking about Alexia in the hospital makes you feel as nauseous as the furniture does.

Your still mad at her, still mad at yourself for never changing her as your medical contact and medical proxy. It had all been a clusterfuck.

“I didn’t know Alexia was going to be there, I though that she’d washed her hands of me. I left her a note because I thought there had been things left unsaid between us and I didn’t want to leave that way.”

Your therapist nods, she doesn’t scribble this time and that makes the itchy feeling all over you die down a little bit.

“Alright, let’s move on. Your ankle injury, how’s that going?”

You look to the window, it’s a horrible day outside, just your luck when you’d chosen to walk to your therapists office on what was supposed to be a 20 degree day with sunny skies. It was the epitome of your life, high expectations, low realities.

“Well three weeks between a hospital and psychiatric facility are probably the best thing anybody can do for a injury.”

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle and your therapist does nothing but scribble.

“So you’ve been doing your rehab as advised then?”

Rehab, both kinds, is mind-bogglingly boring. You go to your therapist and she tells you all the ways you have to work to rehab your brain, she gives you medication after medication and exercise after exercise. The same happens every time you see your physio, test after test, exercise after exercise.

Your stuck in the same cycle of boredom, it makes you wonder how people ever expect you to get better when all you are doing is living in a constant state of suffering.

“The physios are happy with me, say that if I continue on the track that I am I should be back on the pitch in a few weeks, with psychological clearance.”

At the current therapeutic rate your going at, you don’t think you’ll see a psychological clearance until your 50th birthday, if you’re lucky.

“How does it feel coming back from that injury, especially considering how the decline in your physical health simulatenously resulted in the decrease in your mental health?”

You keep silent, because you know that if you talk then it’s doing to be something emotional. When you don’t know how to answer questions without exposing yourself you opt to keep quiet, it’s a obvious tell that you feel uncomfortable with the question. But giving away a tell is a whole lot better then starting an emotional downpour.

“Y/n?”

You look at your shoes. You only were allowed to start wearing one on your bad foot a week ago, and you’d forgotten how hard it was to coordinate shoes with your clothes. This morning you’d thought that they matched with your pants but now they look much darker then they truly are against the grey carpet. The mix of your navy adidas that you might have stolen from Mapi’s wardrobe a couple of months ago when she was complaining about the amount of shoes she’d been sent with your grey wide leg pants was a interesting choice but therapy wasn’t a fashion parade. The shoes don’t quite fit your feet, that’sc how you remembered they weren’t yours. When you’d taken them, it had been during some kind of team bonding night at Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment. Life had been so good, Alexia and you had been so good and for once you’d kind of felt like you were beginning to fit in.You’d never felt that way before that era of your life.

But like most things, it was now a far distant memory.

“The injury wasn’t what made me depressed.”

It’s a half truth, you suppose. Yes, the injury definitely contributed to the factors that trigger your depression, but it wasn’t a sole cause.

“I disagree.”

More scribbling on her note pad, in your opinion it must be some psychological form of torture. You’ll google it when you get home, check to make sure that this isn’t a form of manipulation to somehow convince you to say the things that she wants you to.

“If you disagree then tell me why you think that.”

It’s daring of you to say, there is nearly a 99.99 percent chance that whatever she says you are going to deny vehemently. Even if she hits it right on the nail.

“I think that you don’t give yourself enough grace for the challenges that you’ve gone through. You came to Barcelona because you were running from things, from your past. You’ve never stopped running, truly. Everytime somebody gets close enough to begin to try and worm their feet into your shoes to try and relive some of it with you, you shut them down and stop it. For most people, shoes are a means of getting to where they want, for you, you keep running because if you stop you feel like you’ll suffocate, like your feet will be wrapped up in barb wire and you’ll be stuck. For whatever reason, you don’t think anybody will ever be able to empathise with that. You think that if you ever let anybody in for long enough that they learn what you’ve been running from that they’ll try and stop you, that you’ll be faced with everything that you’ve ever struggled with. So, you keep running, and running, you’ve always been in a state of escape. With your relationship, you finally stopped running, you slowed to a jog. Then, you got injured. All of a sudden you felt like you were stuck and instead of letting yourself finally come to a stop and accepting help and complete love for once in your life, and being vulnerable. You chose to start running again, running from your friends, running from your team, running from every single good thing that you’d gotten in your life until you were so consumed with all the running that you just wanted it all to stop. But you didn’t know how to stop parts of your life without stopping other parts, so you chose to stop it all.”

You don’t know what to say for a few seconds. You’ve never had the feeling that you’ve been experiencing your whole life summed up, you don’t know how to feel about it.

You look at your psychologist, and somehow she looks back at you in a way that you somehow feel like she understands, you’ve never really felt that way about her.

It’s always felt like she’s judging you, like it’s her job to judge every single thing you say. Or at least that’s the way you’ve always seen it. It’s her job to make sure you don’t fall of the rails again, to make decisions about what you can and can’t do. It’s never been a possibility for you that maybe she’s here for a little bit more then just the business side of it all.

“Is that it? Did you come to a point where it felt like you had no other option but to just make it all stop?”

You bite your lip so hard you think it might just bleed, it’s a mission to try and stop the tears that have begun to cling to the back of your eyes at bay. You’ve never cried during a therapy session, and there is no reason why today should be different. The amount of people you’ve cried in front of is limited to a very, very short list of people and you don’t intend for your psychologist to be added.

“It would be okay if that was it. It’s okay to admit that for you at that time it felt like there was no other option but to make it all stop.”

You feel muzzled, like you can’t speak without admitting to something that you don’t want to.

“I thought it would make it all better.”

Your therapist puts down her notepad, and you feel a whole load of anxiety rush out of you.

“You thought it would make what better?”

You keep your tooth pinned to your lip, if it draws blood, it draws blood. The pain helps to take your focus off of the word vomit you can feel coming up.

“Everyone else’s lives.”

Your response is croaky, and when your therapist points to the glass of water you don’t shake your head like normal, you find yourself reaching for it and taking a few tentative sips.

“What about your life, what about making your own life better?”

You take a few more sips, because it stalls the conversation for long enough that you can think up an answer that doesn’t make it sound like you are completely insane.

“I was never really thinking about it like that.”

You look at her, eye to eye again, and there is this weird understanding between the two of you. You can feel it, whether or not it’s real, for the first time you feel like you aren’t crazy for thinking the way that you do. It’s a weird kind of safety that you’ve never had.

“For a minute, I want you to close your eyes and think about exactly what you want, whether it’s the future, it’s right now. Not football, not other people, nobody else. Just you.”

You humour her, and close your eyes.

For a few seconds, you can’t think of much. You’ve never been a future thinker, not beyond emergency plans and second options.

You think about death for a few seconds, a couple of weeks ago it was all you could think of. Permanent, irreversible disappearance. Even then though, it wasn’t what you were actually yearning for, not truly, it was just an easy solution to complex problems, problems that still haven’t been solved.

You think long and hard, and eventually you find a pleasantness.

You want to resolve things with Alexia, you know that for sure. It’s been impossible trying to navigate your relationship in your new reality. You want to get to a place where it’s less impossible. You want happiness with her, pure happiness. You also want some kind of return to football, you don’t know how. You’ve never really played football because it’s what you love, you’ve never loved your sport, it’s more been about having something that could take you places when inevitable wherever you had been was no longer an option because you’d somehow fucked it up.

You want a better relationship with yourself, you want to understand why you think the way you do and why you can’t think the same way and be the same way as everyone. You want to get past the fear you have that you will never be the same.

When you have nothing else to think about, you open your eyes, to your psychologist smiling at you.

“That’s our hour, I’m really happy to leave this here and circle back to some of it in a couple of days. The progress you’re making is definitely getting bigger and I’m happy to sign off on you getting some hours in the gym if your physios are happy with it. I’ll call the team tonight and we can work out a plan that works best.”

You’re in slight disbelief as she speaks.

“You’re sure?”

You stay seated for the sake of making sure that you haven’t somehow dreamt up what she’s just said.

“If you try and make some progress with your homework. I want you to try and talk to Mapi, a text message, coffee, something. I want you to talk to Alexia beyond her being a caregiver for you and I want you to make progress with your teammates, don’t avoid the gym if you know they are going to be there, don’t avoid team events, dip a toe in the water with them and I can guarantee you will have a very different outcome then what you think.”

Contingencies. One thing you’ve learnt about therapy is that there are always contingencies, it’s always a give and take, never one or the other.

You nod your head anyways, somehow, with her weird manipulation games you’ve managed to agree to something that the version of you from and hour ago never would have.

“I’ll try.”

Your therapist smiles and stands up, for whatever reason there is always a part of you that loves the end of your sessions but also never wants to leave.

Whether it seems like it or not, you actually do want to get better, you just don’t know what better looks like for you and that’s scary. You’ve never met the version of yourself that is ‘better’ or ‘normal’. You can’t say that you want to be your old self because there hasn’t ever been a version of yourself that feels better. You’ve always been in the slums, always been dragging yourself through the thickest mud to try and make it to the end of a day or month or year. You don’t actually want to survive like that, you want to live your life properly, or whatever non-sluggish life looks like for you.

Your still desperately trying to work that out.

Alexia is waiting in the carpark as usual, it’s always the same carpark, always the same consolation hot chocolate in her hands afterwards.

Once you’ve sat down in her passenger seat, put on your seatbelt and the takeaway cup is settled in your hands she broaches the topic of your session.

“How was it?”

There is always an awkwardness around your sessions, Alexia picks your up from every one, on the odd occasion she’ll join in if your therapist thinks it would be good. Otherwise, she spends the time sitting in her car and picking up hot drinks.

It’s infinitely awkward between the two of you, but Alexia in your opinion is mostly to blame for that.

She’d been the first person to put her hand up to be your carer, your glorified babysitter.

You know it’s a guilt thing, she feels guilty that part of your pain could have been because of her, even though you’ve insisted time and time again that it wasn’t.

“Fine.”

Therapy is a tough topic for you, mostly because you’ve never wanted to be there in the first place. You’d been tricked into going from the beginning, Alexia insisting that she was taking you to a appointment to check up on your scars when really it had been to your psychologists office. You’d yelled and screamed and insisted that she take you home, but at the end of the day if you ever wanted to play football again it was obvious you were going to have to suck it up.

You hadn’t talked to Alexia for days after that, which is funny because that was less then three weeks ago and now you’re here.

“Fine?”

You nod your head, it’s hard to find words after a normal session, but after this one it’s ever harder.

“I made some progress.”

Alexia nods, you know there are probably a hundred questions going through her head right now, but she won’t ask them. She’s too scared that if she asks them, she’ll get an answer that will terrify her. One that will restart all of the problems, even if that isn’t really how it works. Alexia doesn’t understand mental health, that’s become frighteningly obvious over the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand your struggles because she’s never experienced them. She’s never had self hatred or depression or overwhelming anxiety. It’s what makes you feel so alienated and so out of place amongst your peers. You feel like a shark amongst a sea of dolphins, like you look the same but when it comes down to it you are completely different.

“That’s good, no?”

You nod your head, disguising the grimace on your face by the mouth of the lid on your hot chocolate.

“She says I can start doing some hours in the gym.”

Alexia smiles, big and wide, like it’s her whose been given the good news.

“That’s good bebita, you’ll be on the pitch in no time.”

The pitch. It’s all Alexia cares about.

When you can be back, how she can get you to the point you can be back. Because when Alexia is injured, it’s all she cares about. What she can do to get herself back on the pitch, how she can make the rehab process faster, she thinks of every single logistic and possibility.

You want to make it back to the pitch, or you think you do. But it’s not your priority. It’s become abundantly clear that your main priority has to be yourself, figuring yourself out.

“Mhm.”

You focus your energy on counting how many bike riders pass Alexia’s car as she navigates through peak city traffic. You get to 38 before she interrupts your intense search for every person on two wheels.

“Vicky’s supposed to be coming over later, I promised I’d help her with a school project. I can go to her house instead if you’d prefer?”

Every time Alexia’s broached the topic of teammates you’ve immediately refused any contact, and your immediate reaction is to say no. but you think about what your therapist said.

“I might text Mapi and see if she wants to talk to me.”

You hear the sound of Alexia’s shock in the form of a choken sort of cough, she tries to cover it up by slapping her hand against the wheel of her car, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think that would be a really good idea, bebita, I think she would be really happy to see you.”

You don’t look at Alexia, you don’t want to see the look of perplexion or shock or whatever emotion she’s going through. You haven’t seen Mapi since the hospital, and as little as you remember from then, you remember Mapi very clearly.

She had been just as out of it as you’d been, refusing to leave your bedside but Ingrid having to do everything for her to keep her alive. Every time she visited you, she looked like she’d seen a ghost, or something worse. You weren’t sure what was worse, seeing somebody dead or seeing somebody who was hanging on the cliff of life and death and having to save their life, knowing that if action hadn’t of been taken they would be dead.

Definitely the latter.

“I’ll text her, see if she can come and pick you up before Vicky comes over?”

You nod your head, allowing yourself to focus back on counting your tally, except moving over to motorcycles this time.

You shower with the bathroom door halfway open. There are no sharps anywhere in your apartment, knives, razors, scissors, nail clippers, vegetable peelers, glasses, anything that could cause any kind of bodily harm. For now, you aren’t allowed to be left alone for longer then an hour. You sleep with your bedroom door open and Alexia sleeping in the guest room next door. You eat a set meal plan, you do two hours of rehab every single day, you live on a schedule that is so carefully planned that you have no time to yourself and yet every single moment feels lonely.

It’s a process, you’ve been told. It’s crucial to your recovery that there are measurements in place to assure your ‘success’.

Alexia knocks on your door every five minutes whilst you shower, you yell back every time.

It had become a rule after the first time you’d showered with the door open you’d made a joke about using the shower curtain to harm yourself, because what did they really expect you to be doing?

It hadn’t gone well, Alexia going silent for a few days and a very heated conversation with your psychologist about the inappropriateness of making jokes about suicide.

It was your trauma, it was your fucking story, and everyone was acting like it was their most sensitive issue.

Bathrooms are a bit of a touchy subject, you don’t shower in your ensuite bathroom anymore, you can’t. The room has permanently been blocked off, completely forgotten about.

The first thing you want to do once you’ve ‘recovered’ is leave this apartment, there are to many bad memories, it feels like you’ll never be able to recover if your stuck in the same place that you were in when it all went bad.

It’s a problem for when you can deal with the stress of packing up your whole life and moving it to somewhere.

When you shut the water off and step out of the warm stream you let yourself breathe, showers are the only real alone time you get. Everywhere else you are supervised, watched like a hawk to make sure that you don’t try anything else that could jeopardise your return to football. The reality is that Barca can’t afford to have you sit on the sideline for a whole season, they need you back, they can’t risk another slip up.

Alexia at least gives you the privacy of getting dressed in your own wardrobe, all of your wired bras have been removed, but for the most part it’s all normal.

You get dressed in another sweat suit, it’s become your new uniform over the last few weeks, no draw strings of course.

Your hair gets swept into a messy bun, it’s too much effort to deal with the brushing and braiding and tying that you would have normally gone through with a couple of weeks ago. You aren’t allowed to wear jewellery anymore so your accessories consist of pretty much nothing. You’re bare from the bones to your clothes, your soul feels as bare as the rest of your body.

You’re allowed to wear laced shoes, but you often opt not to, slip on birkenstocks or uggs are just easier. The Barcelona January chill has been getting to you recently, so you upt for your ugg boots.

Your outfit choice is the most choice you get in your day, so you try and put as little thinking into it as possible, it’s easier for you to just succumb to the reality that everything in your life is controlled by other people.

By the time you’ve finished, you’re towing very close to the time Mapi had told Alexia she’d come and meet you. You collect the things that you might need from your vanity and shove them in your pocket, before making your way out to your living room.

It’s unofficially become Alexia’s office, her laptop and books cover your dining table now. She lives out of your apartment, leaves only for training and barcelona commitments, so it’s fair to say that she’s made herself at home.

When you were living together before, it had bothered you more, having her things everywhere. Alexia is a organiser, of everything and everybody but herself. You’d spend hours telling her to pick up her shoes from random spots around the apartment floor or getting her to pick up random clothing items laying on top of pieces of furniture. This mess is different, it reflects how the situation is different. There is nothing comfortable about your predicament, it’s not the same kind of comfortable coexistence you had when you were dating Alexia.

There is a boundary between the two of you now and it makes it all so much more confusing.

Alexia isn’t just your friend or your teammate, she’s you caregiver, the person who holds you accountable, unofficially the person who is supposed to keep you from doing anything to yourself. It adds a whole layer of stress to the situation, you can’t relax around her the same way you used to.

Your relationship is never going to be the same, but parts of you wished that Alexia hadn’t taken over the burden of caring for you, because maybe the two of you could work on rebuilding yourselves as a couple instead of Alexia trying to rebuild you as a person, as if you are a broken lego set that needed to be put back together.

She spends most of her time in your living room, doesn’t push the boundary of your bedroom unless it’s needed.

She’s sat at the kitchen table, preparing herself to help with whatever project it is that Vicky needs help with.

“Shouldn’t Vicky have maybe asked one of the younger girls? You’re practically ancient now, they probably teach the kids these days history from when you were growing up.”

Whatever Alexia looks like she’s going to be helping with looks like something she’s definitely not qualified in, although Alexia’s never the person to say no.

“You’re acting like I’m a dinosaur, I’m only four years older then you.”

She rolls her eyes at you and it feels so normal, for a second you feel so much more normal. Life would be so much easier if everybody stopped treating you like a fine fucking piece of china. An eye roll here or there, a yell here or there, some kind of emotion beyond sympathy would be nice.

“I mean, in comparison to Vicky you’re pretty much from the stone ages.”

Alexia rolls her eyes again, she looks like she’s about to fight back against you but a knock at the door silences you both.

All of a sudden the little smile is gone and the air goes thick again, thick with the reminder that you can’t just exist in a bubble of nothingness were nobody else exists and you can just be free from everything.

Alexia gets up to open the door, and you let her, allowing yourself to loiter around the table and enjoy the moment for just a little bit longer. It’s that moment that might just get you through what is about to happen.

Alexia calls for you and you know it’s Mapi, you know it’s Mapi because Mapi won’t step foot in your apartment.

Ingrid had come to visit when you’d come home, along with a handful of other people, but Mapi hadn’t been one of them. Ingrid had explained that it had been to hard for her, that she’d made it to the door but couldn’t come in, and you couldn’t find it in you to blame her.

Mapi smiles at you when she sees you, it’s the first time you’ve seen her since the hospital and the both of you look very different since then.

She looks less dead, that’s the first thing you take notice of. She doesn’t look like she would blow away into a puff of smoke if a gust of wind came past. She looks good, she looks healed.

Mapi and you don’t talk, for whatever reason, you take the normal walk you would every sunday morning before it happened.

Down from your apartment, onto the main street, up to the mouth of the road, across the street and then onto the boardwalk.

It’s the main reason you chose your apartment, it’s right next to the beach. Perfect for post matchday swims and a morning walk on the beach. It used to be yours and Mapi’s pregame routine and it’s easy to fall into the rhythm of your feet moving down the sidewalk.

No words are spoken until the two of you are seated on the sand, a wordless agreement that you both come to when your toes hit the beach.

You’re both seated, your eyes looking over the horizon. Your too scared to break the silence, so you wait for Mapi.

“You look good, chica.”

You nod your head, you feel better, you must look better then how you did.

“I feel better.”

Mapi nods, when her hand reaches out to sit on top of your own on the sand, you don’t flinch away, it feels good to have a physical connection with a person who isn’t Alexia.

The silence falls over the two of you again, except this time it feels less uncomfortable. You let it linger for a little bit, before you feel in a place to speak.

“I need to say thank you. I know I said some things in the hospital, I meant it in the moment but I want to take it back now. You saved me, you did something so brave and amazing and the version of me now is so grateful that you did.”

Mapi stops your rant, before you can say something else.

“I would have done it for anybody else.”

The problem is you think, that you aren’t anybody else. It would be so much easier to give cpr to a random person on the street and never see them again, never have to be worried that you would see them again and there would be some kind of problem.

“But you did it for me. You saved me from myself, and I want you to know that I genuinely am so thankful for you. You didn’t choose the easy option and I put you in a extremely hard position. If anything had of happened to me, you would have blamed yourself and it wouldn’t have been your fault but you would have felt like it was.”

Mapi nods, and then you hear a sniffle and it makes you feel horrible.

Mapi’s crying, she’s crying and you don’t know what to do.

“You begged me to reverse it, in the hospital, you didn’t say some things. You begged me to stab you or do something. You told me it was my fault you were alive and that it was my responsibility to undo what I’d done.”

You take a deep breath, you didn’t remember it being that bad, but you remember Alexia telling you that some of the things you’d said had been unrepeatable.

“I can’t reverse what I said, in that moment I was in so much pain Maps. I actually can’t tell you how much pain i was in, all I wanted was to disappear. I’m working through not feeling that way and that starts by apologising. You did not deserve to experience what you did. You did not deserve to see what you did. You did not deserve to hear what I said to you. I am sorry. There is nothing I can say that will make any of it okay, I am sorry that for whatever reason god chose you to be the person burdened with this. I am so sorry.”

Mapi sniffles again. You knew that the possibility of no reconciliation was possible, that Mapi would reject any offer of apologies you had, you’d just really hoped it wouldn’t be like that.

“You’ve been like a little sister to me. I know you didn’t feel like we were that close, but I saw so much of me in you from when I was younger, and that was part of the reason I ended up at your apartment that night. Because I was worried, more then anybody else. I had this weird feeling, and I hated that I was right about it. You were like my little sister, and I watched as they strapped you onto a gurney and wheeled you off whilst telling me that they would try their hardest. I don’t blame you, there is no blame for something like this. But I need you to understand that I can’t just get over what I www, I’m working through it, I’m trying. My therapist has really been helping me, but it’s not going to disappear.”

You nod, Mapi and you have been through two mirroring experiences, and oddly you feel the same way about your own therapy. You’re working through it, you’re trying, but nothing that has happened is ever going to disappear, with yourself or with your peers.

“Maps, you’re allowed to experience however you want. If you never want to see me again I won’t hate you.”

Mapi shakes her head.

“I don’t know how I feel yet, I just need you to know that I understand that the you right now is different to the you from weeks ago, and you are entitled to separate yourself from that person. You don’t have to be that person if you don’t want to be. Let yourself live in the new version of you, the old version died back then.”

You bite your lip, there is beginning to become a permanent divet from your front teeth, you like it in a weird way.

“I’m trying, I’m really trying.”

Mapi nods, raising her arm from your hand, to your shoulders, bringing you into her side.

“We’ll try together then, huh? You try for me and I’ll try for you?”

You nod your head, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re totally alone in the battle that you’re fighting. It’s still very much your battle, but it feels like you have somebody in your corner letting you know that you are going to be okay.

—————————————

well aware it’s not edited… if u have an issue with that such my dick xoxo

hope you enjoyed !!!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

[another-random-paradise]

hello! if you're up to it i've had this one idea in my head for a long time that i just need to see written out

basically maybe short drabbles/hcs about leona, jamil, and vil with a reader who, on days where they're tired, is super affectionate physically as in they might see him pass by in the hall and take his hand for a moment/just search for him to get a hug from him, or comes up to him randomly and puts their head on his shoulder — maybe even in a few classes if they're REALLY exhausted, tldr reader just needs some affection when they're tired and loves receiving physical affection </3

~ ☆

Thank you for this lovely request!! I’m the same haha, nothing like a good hug when your tired <3 also I am so so sorry you had to wait this long, I’ve had a lot going on lately,, I really hope I did the request justice <3

---------------------------------------------------------

Reader whose affectionate when tired

Characters: Leona, Jamil, Vil

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: None that I can think of

Leona

-Leona is in heaven

-or at least he thought he was at first

-After all, you being affectionate when tired, means more naps with you!

-except that, thanks to these naps, you aren't tired anymore, and don't seek his  affection as often anymore. And the lazy lion has already gotten so used to it, that he finds it annoying to sleep without it now.

-He'd much prefer you'd just constantly had the urge to nap, like him

-You'll find him grumbling to himself, whenever you don't feel as affectionate, just as you'll find him with a smug grin whenever you cuddle into him while he lazes around the botanical gardens 

-Jack once overheard Leona grumbling, with his tail swishing around angrily, and Jack was confused to say the least, seeing as how the lion was just grinning at you a few seconds ago

-turns out you just weren't all that tired that day, and, in Leonas opinion, didn't give him enough affection before running of - not that he'd ever admit that 

-overall he really loves your affectionate side and wouldn't mind seeing it more often

Jamil

-conflicted, to say the least

-he genuinely loves you and your affection, he really does, but he's got a lot of work and a kalim who he needs to keep alive-

-He has fallen into a sort of routine when you feel sleepy, which is to get you comfortably to sleep as soon as possible 

-If your at Scarabia, he'll bring you to a more secluded couch (you cannot tell me that those couches aren't as comfortable as can be), lay you down, maybe with some hot tea, and stay with you till you very quickly fall asleep

-if you're at school, he always has some sort of coffee at hand to wake you up, or something sugary if you don't drink coffee! he'll make sure it's still somewhat healthy though

-should you fall asleep on him in class, he'll take notes and asks questions for you. Occasionally just looks at you for a few moments, his grades need to be worse than Kalims anyway, so he can't completely partake in the class anyway

-If you get caught by a professor though, he'll just chuckle a bit. 

-You can get mad at him for not waking you up, but he doesn't regret anything, he'll treasure in any time spend with you, where he doesn't have to worry about Kalim.

-on the very VERY rare chance that he has a day off, he basks in your affection! He'll most likely need to catch up on all the sleep he lost to Kalims shenanigans, so you two will most likely be cuddling in his bed, or on one of the couches in an otherwise empty lounge

-Or, maybe, to make sure Kalim doesn't barge in and ruin the moment, the two of you are at ramshackle, after sending Grim to heartslabyul! 

-on rare occasions Grim does join you two, curling up next to you, while muttering something about Jamil stealing his henchmen. You three almost look like a family <3 

Vil

-At first, Vil was confused as to why you'd sometimes be so much more affectionate than normally, but very quickly figured out the pattern; The more tired you are, the more affection he gets.

-He'd be lying if he said he doesn't enjoy the affection, it feels nice to be wanted by someone he genuinely cares for, who genuinely cares for him.

-BUT he doesn't like you not getting enough sleep, what kind of lover would he be if he just lets you miss your needed beauty sleep?!

-Also, he is a busy person with a reputation to uphold; he can't exactly film a movie or brew a potion with your arms wrapped around him, no matter how cute you may look..

-He does Indulge you, letting you cling to him when he isn't as busy, or in between classes, but never without a light scold about the importance of proper sleep!

-If you're clingy for a longer period of time, for example a whole week, he'll try to find out why, and then help you; If you stressed because of a test, he'll help you study, if something is worrying you, he'll pull out all the tricks to help you relax, ect.

-If you're just lonely, well.. he supposes you can sleep over ever so often, as long as he still gets his much needed beauty rest

-The first time this happens, he realises how much better he sleeps with you next to him, how much better the both of you sleep! 

-It very quickly becomes routine; that way you'll get your affection when you're tired in the evenings, but the two can still follow your normal routine during the day!

-...though he does miss, the way you'd hug him from behind in the hallway, or the way you'd lay your head on his shoulder when Professor Trein was being particularly boring.. maybe letting you stay up longer when neither of you have anything important the next day would'nt be all that bad.. 

Once again, just so very sorry it took this long, I promise I didn’t make you wait on purpose, I’m always trying to reply and write as fast as possible <3

Feedback is welcome, just be nice please! Hope you have a wonderful night/day

[cosyvelvetorchid]

💍💍💍 please!!!

Thanks for the prompt

🩶

**********

They both lay naked on their bed—Tommy vertical and Buck horizontal with his head rested on Tommy’s stomach. Tommy’s hand was on Bucks clavicle with Buck delicately playing with his fingers and occasionally lifting them up to kiss.

They were enjoying the post-sex come down with the breeze from the open window across the room cooling their hot skin.

“You did not know that early!” Tommy accused him.

Buck laughed. “Okay, okay I didn’t know know. But I definitely knew something changed when I met you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I knew that I had to see you again, and that I needed to know you.” He said in that sweet and earnest way that always melted Tommy. His lifted Bucks hand to his mouth to kiss. “What about you? When did you know about me?”

“I was endeared when you were excitedly shouting about the new 118 motto in the back of my helicopter.” He said and Buck laughed. “But what really solidified it for me was standing in your kitchen and you just being so honest and open about how you thought you did wrong.”

“I did do wrong—I acted like a child and got my best friend hurt.”

“I know, but not many people are so quick to admit when they’re wrong—you did it immediately. Plus, you said some really nice things about how cool I was and how could I possibly resist that?”

“Was? You’re still the coolest person I’ve ever known!”

“Evan, you literally had to clean up my puke couple of weeks ago.”

Buck laughed. “So? I’d do it every day if you needed me too.”

He said it in such easy way and Tommy knew he meant it. After all this time together Evan still surprised him with how simply, and easily he loved him.

“Come up here.” He said gently and Buck immediately shifted upwards; arms and legs wrapped around Tommy like an octopus. He adored how physically affectionate Buck was. Very early on in their relationship he’d found himself not being able to sleep without Buck attached to him like a limpet.

He placed a few soft, long kisses to Bucks lips before Buck nuzzled into his usual place in the crook of Tommy’s neck.

“Well shit!” Tommy said after a while.

“What?”

“The sun is coming up.” He told him. Buck lifted his head up to see the beginnings of pinks spreading across the sky through the window.

“Shit. We stayed up all night talking?”

“And other things.” Tommy whispered playfully kissing his temple. “Are you going to be okay today?”

“Yeah.”

“Really? Evan I love you, but I know what you’re like when you have little sleep.” He teased. Buck leaned up on his elbow to look down at Tommy.

“On any other day I would agree, but not today.” He smiled and ran a thumb across Tommy’s jaw.

“No?” Tommy smiled.

“Nope.” He kissed Tommy softly.

“What time is Eddie picking you up?”

Buck reached back to look at his phone. “In about an hour.” He snuggled back into Tommy’s body.

“Last chance to change your mind, you know.” Tommy told him lightheartedly.

“Not a chance. You’re stuck with me forever, Kinard.” He smiled into Tommy’s neck and squeezed tighter into him. “What about you? You’re not thinking about making a run for it, are you?”

He pressed 2 fingers into Bucks jaw to gently guide him up to meet his eye-line. “Nothing in this world could make me walk away from you.”

After more warm and lazy kisses they eventually dragged themselves out of bed to get ready for the day. Buck finished packing his bag while Tommy showered.

“I made you a coffee.” Buck called out as he heard Tommy walking towards the kitchen.

“Thanks babe.” He kissed Bucks temple and picked up his mug, leaning against the counter. “Have you packed everything?”

Buck scanned his bags in the table. “Uh, I think so, yeah.”

“Suit?”

“Hanging by the door.”

“Shoes?”

“Check.” Buck replied patting one of the bags.

“Ring?”

“Eddie has it.”

“Only thing left is vows.” Tommy said.

“I don’t need them—I know what I’m gonna say.” Buck closed the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Tommys neck.

“Yeah?”

“Easiest thing in the world.” He said as the sound of Eddies horn blasted outside.

“I guess it’s time.” Tommy said.

“I guess so.” Buck smiled. He turned to begin picking up his bags but Tommy reached out and held his shoulder to stop him.

“Wait a second.” Buck turned back around and Tommy held his face gently. “I love you, Evan. And I can’t wait to be your husband.”

“I love you, too, Tommy and I can’t wait to marry you.”

If Buck left the house 30 minutes and an orgasm late, well that was his business.

[3minsover]

late night:early start

City commuter Steve has to get the first train at 5:30am, already suited and preened for the day even at the early hour. He ends up in the same carriage as a clearly tired, scruffy-looking guy who lays his guitar case down across two seats about three rows away from Steve before slumping into one himself, one that faces Steve.

Despite the guy’s bedraggled appearance, and the smudges of eyeliner that are still clinging to his waterline, Steve is entranced. He can’t help but follow the long line of the guy’s arms under the sleeves of his jacket, down to the flex and curl of his fingers as they drum out a rhythm on the little table in front of him. The man seems to sense Steve’s curious eyes on him and glances up, meeting Steve’s gaze with wide, bleary brown eyes and a half-smile. He scratches at the skin behind his ear, just beneath where a mess of curls is twisted into a lazy bun.

“Late night?” Steve finds himself asking unprompted. He’s not one to talk to strangers, but there’s something compelling, intriguing about the inked etchings peaking out of the guy’s sleeve cuffs, the silver stud in his nose, the heavy boots at the end of long, stretched out legs. He’s so very different from the crisp and fresh-pressed suits at the firm, and even though it isn’t even 6am yet, Steve suddenly feels wide awake.

“Uh, yeah,” the guy answers sheepishly, his voice rough with evident disuse - or overuse. perhaps both. “Would you believe I missed the last train yesterday night?”

“Ah, trains are tricky like that. You don’t live around here then?” It’s a presumptuous question, but one that Steve’s instincts tell him to ask.

“I look like that much of a city rat, huh?” The man chuckles, and Steve’s heartbeat ticks up.

“Hah- You don’t- You don’t look like a lot of the people I see around town, is all I’m saying. and that’s not a bad thing, if I’m being totally honest.” Steve can feel his cheeks heating, and for a moment the rumble of the train is the only sound.

“Okay, good. I’ll take that,” the guy says, brows pinching a little. “You uh, you goin’ into the city then I'm guessing?”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty gig having to come all this way, but at least I haven’t had to sell my kidney to cover rent.”

“I don’t think they’d take my kidney if I offered,” the guy smiles, and Steve barks out a laugh that’s too loud for the empty carriage and the earliness. The guy shifts in his seat, and Steve instinctively leans forward, wanting really to move the few rows forward until he’s close enough to see the early morning light dance and glint in those big, dark eyes.

“That have anything to do with while you were stranded?” Steve asks, gesturing to the guitar case.

“Yup. got me in all kinds of trouble, she has. Gig finished late, couldn’t get a cab, welcome to hotel train-station-waiting-room.”

Steve manages to chuckle more softly this time, his gaze catching on the twitch of the guy’s lips as he stifles a yawn.

“Hey, if you wanted to- You could take a nap, I’ll watch your stuff. Make sure no one steals it, or whatever.”

The man blinks at him in surprise, lashes fluttering where his lids are heavy.

“That’d- Shit, that’d be awesome, man. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Let me just-” And so Steve’s more daring thoughts win out. He plucks up his briefcase from the seat next to him and hurries the short distance to the cluster of seats on the opposite side of the aisle from his new charge. “There. Now I got a clear line of sight.”

“I’ve never felt safer,” the guy jokes, and pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head, tucking his chin into his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, shit sorry, um. When should I wake you?”

“Whenever you’re getting off, big boy,” the guy shoots back without raising his head, and Steve can just about make out the curve of his lips and the dimple that sits in the corner of his cheek. He can feel his own cheeks warming at the guy’s words, and Steve’s glad there’s no one around to see. He lets himself watch this pretty stranger under the pretence that he’s keeping an eye on his guitar, and the hour and a half slides by almost unnoticed.

The carriage is a little busier but still quiet when Steve’s stop rolls around. The man hasn’t moved since he nodded off, and it almost breaks Steve’s heart to wake him. Carefully, Steve stands and leans down, wrapping his fingers around the man’s shoulder and shaking lightly.

“Hey, buddy, I gotta get off.”

The guy’s eyes blink open, wide and unfocused and so lovely, before they swivel up to meet Steve’s own. His chin tips upward and his lips curve in a smile, and something in Steve begs closer closer closer, but instead he just clears his throat and rights himself.

“Thank you, dude. Even that was way better than a wooden goddamn bench.” The guy bends his arms and stretches, and Steve doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“I’m- I’m steve, by the way,” he announces suddenly, making a step towards the carriage doors, despite how reluctant he is to move away from his stranger.

“Hey, Steve,” the guy replies, hauling himself upright - how coincidental that they’re off at the same, second-to-last stop. The train draws to a halt, and the guy stumbles forward just a fraction, still off-balance with new consciousness. Suddenly, they’re face to face. Or more they’re nose to chin, because this man has a good four inches on Steve. It’s all Steve can do not to lean up and kiss his pretty lips right here and now. “Name’s Eddie.”

And it feels right. It fits.

Steve doesn’t know how or why, but everything about this man fits; feels right.

“Good to meet you, Eddie,” Steve says, a little breathless. “Hey, if you’re ever down my way again, how about I give you a better place to sleep than a waiting room bench.” And Steve knows it’s a bit of a pretentious thing to do, but he slips a business card out of his wallet and tucks it into the breast pocket of Eddie’s jacket. He pats it once and pivots away, can’t bear the thought that he’s misread the electricity between them. He rushes through the doors and slips into the stream of morning bodies, leaving the perfect newness of his pretty stranger back in that carriage. but that evening, Steve’s phone buzzes with a text from an unsaved number.

It simply reads:

thanks again for being my lookout. if the offer’s still on the table, how about friday night?

[where-dreamers-go]

hi!!! I’m obsessed with your connor writings ♡ so I was thinking if its okay if I request some hurt/comfort with connor and fem!reader who has kinda low opinion (both looks and personality) on herself and always put other people first and rarely think about her own comfort and feelings :( this is very self-indulgent so I’m sorry for that and you’re absolutely free to ignore this! thank you and have an amazing day <33

“Understand” Rk800 Connor x Reader

(A/N: Thank you for your request! It’s self-indulgent for us both, then. Caring for oneself takes work sometimes, lots of practice. But Connor is here!!! Warnings: minor angst, use of (Y/N) for your name Word Count: 721 words)

Weekends were looked forward to by many. The end of the work week for some people. Also a day to visit others to a number of people.

Late into the afternoon, you had finished your visits and social obligations for the day.

Not yet home, you sat outside on a city bench. The day’s activities weighing you down. Muscles in your arms and even your face tried to relax. You hoped a bit of fresh air could help.

For the first time in over five hours, you had time for yourself. Quiet and stillness in your personal space. Nothing left for you to do for other. Hopefully, for the rest of the day if you were lucky.

In your mind, your thoughts zipped between one past conversation to another and any action weaved throughout. However loud, you knew eventually you would work through the thoughts and memories until you could return to your regular streams of thoughts. You just needed some time.

You exhaled slowly.

I really don’t want them to call me later, you thought as you watched some birds squawk at one another. They talked…the whole time.

A light breeze tickled your skin, but you didn’t mind nor move. It was nature not a family member ‘asking’ you to do something.

“(Y/N)?”

With a mild startle, you turned to see your friend, Connor, standing with his LED spinning yellow.

“Connor? Hi, what are yo— OH!”

I completely forgot.

“Are you all right?” Connor asked. “We were supposed to meet an hour ago.”

“I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. I was with my family and being around them,” you took a breath, “it’s hard to think straight.”

“It’s all right,” Connor said more calmly than his words a few moments ago. “How long have you been sitting here?”

“Don’t know.” You huffed.

At that, Connor joined you on the bench.

“It’s just…been a day. I’m tired.”

“You visited some family today. Was it a party?”

“No,” you stretched your neck and added, “I ended up helping with the TV, phone settings, a laundry issue, and rearranging furniture. Multiple times. It was… They just kind of decided on it since I was there too. And I helped.”

“You moved furniture? (Y/N), you had put in a full week of work.”

“I know.” You couldn’t look at your friend. “I just did it. They needed help.”

“Weren’t other people there? You didn’t have to do everything.”

You nodded.

“Did you want to do all of those tasks?”

“No, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because they needed those things done.”

Connor placed his hand on your shoulder, offering a type of warmth you had been neglected for a while. A gesture you denied yourself and he knew. Of course Connor knew.

He needs to understand that’s just how it is, you thought. They tell you to do something or ask whatever and you do it. That’s it. Either you do it or you can’t.

“It’s not a choice, Connor. If I didn’t help them, wouldn’t that make me lazy or rude? I’d never hear the end of it. And…they needed help.”

You looked over to your friend. Brown eyes stared back at you.

“(Y/N), it’s not wrong to step aside to allow other people to help. You don’t have to do everything for others. In fact, it’s impossible for you to always help someone especially if you’re uncomfortable or are not well.”

“But…”

He shook his head, a sad expression on his charming face. “No. I’ve all ready seen you overwork yourself. It isn’t healthy. You know, don’t you?”

Shoulders slumping, you leaned into your friend.

“I’m tired.”

Connor wrapped his arm around you and let you rest into his side. “You don’t have to do anything right now. We can sit here for as long as you want.”

Pressing your lips in a thin line, you suppressed the tears trying to escape. Too tired to discuss how right Connor was and too grateful to have Connor as a caring friend.

“(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you practice taking your own needs first, when appropriate, please?”

“I’ll try.”

“That’s all I ask. You can be happy too.”

Smiling, you wrapped your arms around Connor’s middle and took the first step in thinking about your own comfort.

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Detroit Become Human Tags: @shewhobreathesfire @

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[personne-reblogs]

AUTISTIC SWEEP

The shouts of the crowd are fading into white noise. 

The curtains are closing. 

The lights are dimming. 

The air still feels filled with static, though. 

This is a fight Donatello had known he couldn’t win, logically. The competition had been all fun and games, but this challenger was another story. No amount of support or hype could make up for such a gap; the bone deep certainty didn’t leave room for hard feelings. 

Struggling to catch his breath, battle shell against the wall, Donatello looks up from where he’s been getting some rest - not passed out rest, mind you. More like a beauty nap.

He lets out a genuine chuckle. 

Shigeo Kageyama is simply standing there, as he has been for most of the fight. 

“Sweet Marie Curie,” he puffs, keeping his voice level. The roar of the crowd hasn’t entirely died down, but he knows he is heard. “You don’t even have a scratch.”

The one they call Mob is giving him a stare. He still seems a little out of it. 

“You fought well,” he states calmly, and Donnie giggles. 

“Oh, please. I’ve been losing tournaments at home for as long as I can remember. You don’t need to feel sorry for me.”

At that, Mob flashes a grin. “I’m not sorry,” he says bluntly, coming over in lazy steps. “But it hasn’t been easy, either.”

He sits down, legs stretched out in front of him, and Donnie can now see that his breathing is a little heavy. He feels himself get cocky. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to just let you win. If I had to go down, might as well give ‘em a show, right?”

Mob sends him a sideway glance. “You really are all about dramatics.”

“What can I say?” Donnie sighs theatrically, proving his point. “This whole competition is about being swag. I could hardly disappoint.” 

“I don’t think you could," his opponent utters. “You’re very expressive.”

Donnie raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow. This is something he hasn’t often been told. He looks over to Mob, and the tension in the boy’s shoulders makes him hum in thought. 

“I don’t know who’s next, but you are going to crush them,” he provides. When Mob gives him a nonplussed glance, he goes on. “And even if you don’t, it’s still the last one. How good does that sound?”

“... it has been getting a bit much, to be honest.”

“Yeah, this is wild,” Donnie agrees. “Anyway, what are you gonna do with your trophy once you get it?”

Mob’s smile is a little shy, but he seems happy with the distraction. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one. What would you do?”

“Well, you see, there was this one time I won the Lair Games…”

--------------------------

In the next room, a very proud sensei and three worried brothers are getting impatient. 

The student and the sibling don’t seem to care at the moment. 

The crowd is gone. 

The curtains are closed. 

The lights are off. 

For now, making small talk with a former rival is just enough.

--------------------------

EDIT: there is now a sequel!

YOOO IT'S BEEN SUCH A WILD RIDE

Disclaimer: I have never read/watched mp100 and I deeply apologize for making him probably very ooc. Just wanted to celebrate this beast of a match in my own way, which is wishing I could draw and deciding to heave words on a doc instead lol

CONGRATS ON MOB!! The final match between mp100 and undertale is gonna be soooo funny but I think Mob's gonna win this thing like it's nothing tbh (he has my vote at least)

@autismswagsummit thank you for reblogging all that Donnie propaganda, I genuinely think he never would've made it this far without the signal boost!

All my thanks to the Rise fandom for these past few days! You guys have made such powerful content and there's been so much hype I'm shocked. SHOCKED I TELL YOU

[onlyjaeyun]

i’ve been following ur writing for some time now and i do have to agree with that anon who said you did CH dirty. you are a very talented writer so it’s just hard to watch.

you started off CH so strong with the lore and little chapters here and there but as it progressed you kind of just got lazy and it shows. when important events happened in the story, they weren’t conveyed through writing but through the texts (ie the riki and yn fight, that was definitely worth a written chapter) and it was honestly disappointing.

the ending isn’t much to say about either. yn and hoon barely go through development after the letter incident and all of a sudden they’re dating and married with a kid like two chapters later?

idk, if it was a mental health issue then i get that but even then you should’ve just gave it a break and thought everything out more. you could do so much better.

thank you for the feedback!

i wanna put you through the progess of a piece of writing from the POV of a writer okay? now keep in mind: i work two jobs, am a fulltime uni student and the daughter of an immigrant household with two parents who still work most of the day just so you know what else i have to deal with, besides my mental health okay?

now, i started off CH strong right? yes. i uploaded on the daily, fine i chose that. a chapter usually takes me around one hour if i actually sit down and focus on nothing but the chapter itself, which includes IG stories, editing, formatting etc. alright

on top of the daily chapters, i constantly replied to 40+ asks a day, a blessing in disguise because no matter how much i enjoy talking to you guys, the pressure does get worse the bigger that number of my inbox becomes, i hope this makes sense

now, i started CH back in october, right when my semester started, thats why i started off strong but as time went on, my assignments and private life got too busy and i guess i felt entitled enough as a writer to skip a few certain chaps and make life a little easier for me by making them regular chapters instead of written ones.

and this is gonna be my main point: i'm not a machine. i wrote a minimum of 5 THOUSAND words per written chapter, MINIMUM. we're talking about a 5-9 THOUSANDED worded chapter EACH WEEK. which usually took me about 6-7 hours, even allnighters.

yes, i chose to do that and maybe my time management wasn't the best but i had to create a compromise where i wouldnt have let you guys wait for over two months which would have resulted in me losing my motivation completely, and yet still focusing on EXAMS. because you know, i'm a fulltime uni student with TWO jobs 😮‍💨

if YOU think i did CH dirty go write an alternative ending yourself but it should be a minimum of 15 chapters including 5 written ones, with at LEAST 9k words each yeah? i wanna see you manage it all, pls prove me wrong snd show me you're better than me i'm genuinely begging bc it might inspire me to do "better" next time.

as a writer/artist/creator, and i can tell you probably arent one yourself or havent been one for long, the longer smth takes to come to an end the worse the pressure becomes which results in a blockage i dont wish upon my worst enemy i'm being deadass. i dealt with some of the worst writer's block ive had since i started writing literally 12 years ago and you're telling me i should have just "taken a break" and do "better"

i never, ever expected anything from anyone but some of you are so entitled to a writer's time and skill it's giving me a headache. maybe you didn't like the timing and writing of the last few chapters of CH and i guess that's unfortunate but this was so unnecessary because you completely dismissed everything else that could have been going on in my life and even belittled my mental health issues like im some fucking AI writing machine

do better, be nicer, write it yourself if you don't like it i'm so fucking over this

if i had gotten out of my own comfort and wellbeing and have actually written another set of written chapters i would have burned myself completely out. ive been in this fandom for not even a year and have already finished FOUR smaus with 50 chapters each, you do NOT get to tell me what i should or could have done better because you dont even give a fuck about me as a person this is just about receiving what YOU think YOURE entitled to but this is MY art and I will do what I see fit even if it's not what was expected of it because i'm a fucking human being with a life before i'm a writer on tumblr

oh, also: i do this for free ㅤ:) just a reminder :) this is my HOBBY :)

and don't you EVER call me lazy again when it comes to writing because i'm not gonna pour my heart and soul into a fic just for you to call me lazy when i literally wrote 50 THOUSAND words for this fucking fic just for the written chapters

goodbye

[punkpandapatrixk]

Slow Mornings~♪

Hello lovely peeps. I'm popping in to say that I'm so sorry I haven't been as productive as I’d hoped. I had all of these plans, and literally 3 years’ worth of content ideas, but my body has not been able to catch up! I’m now behind on all of the readings I’d scheduled for the entirety of October XD

The truth of the matter is a little bit convoluted but I’ve been both experiencing a series of burnout—autistic burnout, which I didn’t even know was a speciality thing—as well as being in this healing phase where my body simply wants to catch up on sleep, after years and years and very long years of being on edge. There was a meme I forgot to save that says something to this effect:

'Your body is healing from years of trauma; you’re not lazy. You deserve this peace.’

Actually, the above could as well be a mash of two—or three—separate memes LOL Here’s another good one from a sub maker that I feel captures just thee vibe I’m feeling right now:

‘Maybe you're simply perceiving how a lovely sensation of closure & calm gently fills the air around you, feeling a little sleepier than usual. Or maybe you can sense how a massively positive change is coming, seemingly eager to go with it and that's great as well.’ – The Witch of Drown Shadows

I believe many of you reading this could relate as well. A new beginning is on the horizon for sooo many of us who’ve been on a soul-search to liberate ourselves from the chains of the toxic Matrix. I hope you're doing well, and excited for what's to come before the year even ends ^o^v

Forget the grind, leave behind soul-sucking deadlines, and enjoy the slow mornings~♪

Naturally, I’m going to be more productive again once I’m done stabilising myself—all mind body and spirit aligned. I’m not saying this out of a sense of ‘obligation’; that all people ideally must be a productive member of society. No, not that. I really want to get productive on this blog because I’ve a shit ton of good content in the works XD

I’ve so much new content on career, luck, character glow-up, soulmate friendships!!!, celebrity life, life purpose and other esoteric shit I’m eager to put out \^-^/ Not to mention the fiction that’ll go on Wattpad. I’m making progress on Punk Panda Stories but slow…very slow XD

For now, I’m aiming to post one PAC every week without fail. I’m just going to expect this much from me in the meantime, so as not to burn myself out on the psychology level just yet. When you expect too much from yourself, the stress could deter any progress instead, right?

This is especially true for those who don’t necessarily have a deadline. But that’s the thing, I don’t wanna strangle myself with deadlines anymore. So I’m not gonna work like that anymore. This ain’t 9-5 corporate, girl. Stop thinking like that! Is what I’ve been telling myself. Gotta change the whole way I approach my soul-work~♪

Until the end of the year, I’m teaching myself to enjoy slow mornings™️ I’ve been starting my day with just cleaning myself and my room; having a breakfast of lemon tea w/ a dollop of strawberry jam + a CVS croissant; playing a game on my dusty-but-trusty old PSP when I’ve got the time; and reading a few chapters of an actual book.

In the afternoon, I’ve been back on teaching myself ballet and strengthening my vocals. It’s nice. I feel very healthy and like myself again, but better <3 We were born into this world to enjoy our hobbies and hopefully, ideally make money alongside those hobbies <3

Never forget that, girlies. Hard work doesn’t suit us <3

How the Boredom Epidemic Ruined Hobbies by Nicole Rudolph

[serial-killers-hope]

Could you do a thing for ronin with a partner that’s transmasc but dresses really fem and feels really insecure and like they aren’t an actual guy because of how they present?

(totally not projecting shhhhhhh)

Ah, well. I’ve been planning this for quite awhile actually… well, I suppose you wouldn’t mind some of my work again. ~ DP

CW / TW :

- Gender Dysphoria

- Running / Intrusive Thoughts

- Anxiety

SPOILERS FOR KILLER CHAT

Enjoy.

Petticoats and Blood.

You stared at the coord you had made yourself for the next day. The mannequin sported your petticoat and purse for the next day. Dressing pretty and very nice was your forte after all. Even if it did garner unwanted criticism from so-called “normal” people. It made you happy to dress in frilly skirts, ruffled blouses, cute bonnets. The works for your average sweet style that everyone either loved or criticized ( for whatever reason… )and it made you question whatever was going on through their minds as well.

You hesitate for a second, hanging up the dress and putting away the jewelry for the night. Until your phone pings with a notification and ultimately throws off your insecure thoughts for the moment.

You pick up the phone, eyes narrowed as you stared at the text that the man you who had fallen for ( which you questioned why Ronin had put his name as “ Thy Divine Devil “ ) spammed your phone.

goreboy : darlin’

goreboy : come On. im bored and I want to see Your Pretty mug :)

You frown a bit, the word pretty sticking out like a sore thumb. In all honesty, you never bothered to correct him so how would he even know? All he knew was your identity change and your identity struggles. He’d help with the process, buying you your binder was a plus you didn’t know you needed and a man who knew how to inject testosterone to satisfy your euphoric needs?

Double whammy.

Ronin kept spamming, your frown evident as you shot him a text with a exasperated sigh.

[ User ] : What’s up? :)

You watched as his username popped up and slowly typed. Your impatience grew as you planted yourself down onto your bed with a quiet tap of your foot. Nose scrunched as your dysphoria feuded with your mentality. Hands gripping your phone as his message came through.

goreboy : can’t I just try to See You?

goreboy : But nahhhh, i’ll keep you updated when I see You :)

goreboy : i love you darlin’. keep Your Head up.

Your heart clenched as your throat tightened with a gentle tug of your vocal cords. Your voice didn’t even want to leave as you opened your mouth to say something into the random void of your goddamn room.

“Damn…”

You muster up the word, immediately jumping up to get dressed into some random clothes you had strewn about. Eyes alert and teary as you shrugged on some hoodie that Ronin had gave you some time ago. It’s material plush and gentle on the body. Black in color with a skull on its front.

It honestly screamed Ronin.

Your hand traced the pattern, sighing as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys.

You usually dressed up, even for something simple as this ( meeting Ronin at his usual alleyway ) and even doing a minimal amount of makeup. But you shrugged off the heavy feeling, the dysphoria practically screaming as you got into the car that Ronin had fixed a few months prior to your ‘accidental’ meeting.

You parked a few blocks away from the spot, scrambling out and locking the car before jogging to the alleyway. Your eyes darted around slightly as you made your way down the pathway. Eyes drifting to a specific brick wall that the two of you had met at.

“… huh?”

Ronin slumped against the wall, grinning as he noticed your steps.

“Hey darlin’… how are-“

He cuts himself off, his eyes drifting over your body with a furrowed brow and a small frown which was immediately replaced with a smile.

“Lazy day?”

“You can say that.”

Ronin obviously wasn’t satisfied with the answer, arms crossing as he approached and looked you dead in the eye. Noticing the redness, the puffy texture around them, and the fake smile you usually pulled on bad dysphoria days with a subtle grunt.

“What’s wrong?”

You shift a bit, rocking on the heels of your feet as you shrugged slightly and looked away. Your brows furrowed a bit as he leaned to meet your facial level.

“Nothing… just a bad dysphoria day.”

Immediately, he scowled. His arms suddenly wrapping around you in a comforting hug as he whispered nothing but affirmations to you. It made all the pent up emotions in your body spill out onto the floor. Soft sobs and quiet chokes escaping as you reciprocated the hug and sobbed into his chest.

“I’m not normal, why can’t I be normal…”

Ronin sighs, pressing a gentle kiss against the top of your head. His warmth, inviting and comforting as he whispered into your ear.

“Were we ever normal?”

[feeder86]

Falling for a Feeder: Part 2: Infinity

That evening, Lucas lay there on the giant couch like a beached whale. His enormous, fleshy belly had long since slipped out of his shapeless t-shirt and was draped across the cushions; with sweat leaching from the bare skin due to the summer heat. He’d never been particularly tall, and so the prospect of being over four hundred and thirty pounds had felt like a fantasy in those early days. He’d had to learn to consume so many calories, to step back from overdoing it with the exercise. Now it was all second nature. 

Getting up off the couch was an unpleasant thought. There would have to be stages to it. He’d have to use his arms to support himself and try to swing his body in the right way to keep the momentum so that it wouldn’t be too exhausting. He knew what people thought of him: that he was gross and disgusting. But he had never imagined that Talon would feel those things too: that he could ever get too fat, too greedy and lazy. Yet, he hadn’t seen Talon in days. In fact, the handsome man who had started all this wasn’t even returning his calls. 

Lucas felt so alone, and yet, so desperately hungry.

Three Years Earlier

“When are we going to tell people about us?” Lucas asked, feeling content and stuffed; his head resting on Talon’s large, strapping chest. It was a question that had sat at the front of his mind for some time, given that Talon had started to talk about them getting their own place at some point in the future. “I mean, this might be a little confusing for people, you suddenly dating a guy. I’d understand if you’re not ready.”

“Do you think I’m embarrassed to be your boyfriend?” Talon asked, immediately concerned.

“No. I’m just saying…” Lucas replied, “...I would understand if you did.”

“I can’t wait to tell people about us,” Talon insisted, lifting an overfed Lucas off his chest so that he could look him in the eyes. “It’s you I’m thinking about. Have you really thought about it? Everyone suddenly knowing that we’re an item? I’ve not exactly been quiet about my… preferences,” he explained. “It’s already getting quite obvious that you’re carrying a good few extra pounds,” he noted, grabbing an actual handful of fat that had spread from Lucas’ doughy butt and onto his hips. “It’s not going to be hard for people to join the dots once they realise that we’re an item.” He sighed, as if he regretted something very deeply. “Are you really ready for that sort of judgement?”

It almost felt inappropriate to become so instantly aroused. Talon seemed so earnest and concerned for him, yet Lucas had made his peace with it all quite some time ago. He now looked forward to people passing comment on his weight, knowing how excited it would make the two of them afterwards. “You really think it’s obvious to people that I’m getting fat?” he asked with a broad smile.

Talon smiled too, seeming to relax. “Maybe…” he teased, moving his hand up to stroke the puffy fatness at Lucas’ side; fat that would soon fold the skin enough to become full-on love handles.

“You’re right. Once we tell people that we’re together, they’re going to know exactly why I’ve put on so much weight; that I’ve been fattened up. I’m going to be under more scrutiny than ever.”

Talon simply looked up at him sympathetically, making an excellent job of containing his excitement for the idea of everyone seeing all the hard work he had put into ensuring that Lucas continued to pile on the pounds.

“I want to be your fatty,” Lucas stated with lustful certainty. “I’m ready for everyone to know,” he nodded. “I’m so excited for them all to watch me growing fatter and softer for you every single day.”

“Oh yeah?” Talon smirked, raising his eyebrows and getting very much aroused himself, as Lucas lay on top of him and started kissing his lips. He slipped his large hands onto Lucas’ butt cheeks, unable to resist squeezing their doughy fleshiness; gently bouncing and spreading them like the horny twenty year old that he was, knowing that they were about to have sex for the third time that morning. “Let’s tell them all then,” he growled with lust. “Let’s make sure that absolutely everyone knows that you’re my fat little piggy!”

It turned out that Talon had been exactly right. Once people realised that Lucas and the muscular hunk were an item, everything seemed to change. He sensed the whispering behind their backs. The disapproval was obvious; from the guys who felt Lucas had turned their buddy gay, to the oblivious few who looked at Lucas’ increasingly chubby appearance and wondered how he had bagged a guy who was now so far out of his league. Even Jay had given Lucas a friendly word of warning about dating a guy like Talon; still laughably oblivious to the fact that he himself was dating a highly effective feeder.

Lucas, who hadn’t been home in weeks, decided that he couldn’t wait any longer to take Talon back to meet his parents, now that they were an official item. Despite his joy at fattening, he still squirmed the entire way there, wondering just how his family would react to seeing him carrying so much extra weight. 

Indeed, although Talon found complete bliss in watching Lucas expand, he had understood his boyfriend’s concerns entirely; helping his boy to pick out clothes that worked to conceal as many of the excess pounds as possible. He stood next to Lucas the entire time, holding his hand and giving him courage as they walked into the house for the first time. Immediately, everyone had rushed around them in excitement to meet Lucas’ new boyfriend, with Talon’s strapping stature taking most of the focus; Lucas’ mother and auntie looking instantly quite smitten.

Talon had such an engaging personality. It was the reason why he was so well known and liked across the college campus. He had a way of engaging with absolutely everyone; knowledgeable about such a wide range of subjects, he could always find a way to tap into others’ interests and chat for hours with them. Lucas had slipped off to bed, leaving his new boyfriend speaking at length about fishing, of all things, with his dad and older brother; laughing at the fact that the handsome boy had already been invited along to go to the lake with them the next morning.

“I think my parents might like you!” Lucas chuckled in amusement as he and Talon finally got some time alone together that Saturday afternoon, after the highly successful fishing trip was done with.

Talon smirked. Despite how easily people seemed to take to him, there was no doubt that the guy knew exactly what he was doing. Charm was a skill that Talon had mastered better than anyone Lucas had ever known. “I think I’ve got them on side,” he nodded. “Of course,” he grinned, looking over his shoulder to check that no one was within ear shot. “It’s all smoke and mirrors. All I’m doing is distracting them from the fact that I’m turning their good-looing son into my own beautiful, fat piggy,” he teased, making Lucas laugh with pleasure. “Did anyone comment on how many times I cut some of your aunt’s birthday cake for you last night?” he asked, knowing that Lucas had had more than enough time that morning to discuss him with his mother and aunt.

“They just think you’re sweet and attentive,” Lucas nodded, laughing again at how easily Talon was getting away with it all.

“Sweet and attentive, that’s me,” Talon joked. “Not a wicked, evil feeder at all…” he whispered into his boyfriend’s ear, whilst simultaneously reaching under the loose fitting t-shirt to grab at the building softness underneath.

By the end of the afternoon, Lucas was feeling a lot more confident in his thicker body around his family. Talon had pushed him to go into the back yard for a swim together, meaning that everyone would have an unfiltered view of his swollen form. He’d not wanted to go, but Talon had cleverly reassured him that it would all be fine. It was only with some reluctance that Lucas had gone through with it, forgetting that Talon had his ultimate weapon to help Lucas avoid the judgemental eyes of his family. If any man in the entire world could pull off a tiny pair of swim shorts, it was Talon. Lucas sometimes took it for granted just how insanely impressive the guy’s body was. However, it was clear by the open mouths of everyone in Lucas’ family that they were paying a lot more attention to Talon than they were his own softened shape. A mixture of awe, admiration and jealousy, Talon revelled in the quiet attention he was getting; hopping in and out of the pool for any reason at all; bringing drinks and snacks for Lucas as he lazily drifted around the shallow end, enjoying the sun.

After drying off, Talon’s smirk was hard to miss, so pleased was he that his plan had worked flawlessly. “I don’t think that anyone even noticed that I fed you almost a thousand calories in sodas and snacks whilst we were out there,” he chuckled, rubbing the distended stomach on his boyfriend.

Footsteps were heard and Talon quickly retreated, posing with his arm over Lucas’ shoulder as his dad walked into the room. “Hey, Talon,” he called, not even looking at his own son. “My buddy thinks he can get us an extra ticket for the game tonight. You wanna come? I’d love for them to meet you.”

“Oh, man!” Talon sighed regretfully. “I’d love to, but I just promised Lucas that I’d take him out for food tonight,” he lied. “I read about some awesome dessert place downtown and figured that he deserves a treat,” he continued, deliberately rubbing Lucas’ back in just the same, comforting way that he did whenever his chubby boyfriend was trying to push down a calorie shake for him. 

“You sure? They’re pretty great seats!” Lucas’ dad tried, sounding bitterly disappointed to be missing out on spending time with his new best friend.

“Sorry,” Talon replied, suddenly bold enough to reach down and rub Lucas’ fatter, swollen ass, even in front of his father. “When I make a promise to your handome son, I never break it....”

The second true test of their status as a real couple came as Talon invited Lucas along to his cousin’s wedding. Having travelled down on the Friday, they’d had time to meet up with the strapping boy’s family beforehand. They met at a particularly classy restaurant and Lucas began to see that Talon’s family had a lot more money than he had first assumed. With two accomplished brothers, it was clear that Talon wasn’t the only smart one in his family. The brothers were at least ten years older, but handsome men nonetheless; sat together with their attractive, pretty wives, they peered around with interest as Lucas walked in with the muscular Talon. There were looks, of course there were; secret knowing glances between them all, putting Lucas a bit on edge. 

“You really hit the weights hard this year, huh?” asked Mike, the oldest brother, who was also a lawyer, squeezing his hand over Talon’s large shoulder as if to feel the changes for himself. 

Despite the smiles and warm words, Lucas detected a strange sibling rivalry and hostility between Talon and his brothers. Even with his flawless charm, Lucas could always tell when Talon didn’t really like someone.

“And you must be Lucas?” the other brother nodded politely, shaking him by the hand as if conducting an official meeting; immediately introducing himself as a doctor of physics in a Californian university, alongside his wife. It was also the place where Talon’s father had worked for many years as professor; yet another impressive fact about Talon’s family that Lucas had never learned; alongside the revelation that their mother had been a successful novelist for decades.

Talon was clearly the baby of the family and, as it transpired, the one that they all considered to be the uncontrollable black sheep. Within no time at all, the brothers were dragging up stories of Talon’s exploits as a kid. It was obvious that Lucas’ new boyfriend had always had a devious streak to him, never one to play by the rules; the tales making them all laugh with glee. Lucas could picture the man he loved so dearly in each story. Talon hadn’t changed in the slightest!

The wine was flowing and everyone was soon loosening up. Lucas felt like he wanted to make a good impression with Talon’s parents. However, much like Talon, the brothers were such big personalities; it was hard for anyone else to make an impact on the conversation.

“I’ve got to say,” Mike began, looking directly at Lucas, “you’re not at all how we pictured you.”

Slightly taken aback, Lucas smiled awkwardly. “How so?” he asked.

“Well, you’re at least a hundred pounds lighter for a start,” he laughed, not noticing the awkward way the rest of the family were looking around at each other as the words tumbled from his mouth. “Do you remember that girl Talon fell in love with at the end of high school? Cammy? Casey?” he pondered, eventually giving up as no one jumped in to help. “Talon was so into her. Do you remember?” he asked the table. “There’s a picture of them going off to their prom together. She was massive!” he laughed. “Then there was that girl who looked like a beach ball that he brought home during his gap year before college…” Mike blindly went on.

“I’ll stop you right there,” Talon jumped in calmly. “If you think this is meant to embarrass me in front of Lucas, you’re wrong. He already knows about all those other relationships. We don’t keep things like that from each other.”

“Mike wasn’t trying to…” Talon’s mother jumped in, clearly well used to playing the peacekeeper.

“Let’s ask Lucas then, shall we?” Mike cut in obnoxiously; thinly disguising his dislike of his brother with a smug smile. “How do you feel, dating a creepy chubby chaser? I’m sure it must be every gay guy’s dream?” he snorted sarcastically.

Lucas looked around the table: the older, retired and distinguished parents; the good looking brothers, accomplished and successful, with their typically beautiful wives and their equally exciting careers. Talon didn’t fit in with a family like this. He was the square peg in a very round hole. All the stories from earlier now made complete sense. Talon really was the black sheep of the family; how could he not be? He was, and always would be, the naughty one, with mischief and wickedness twinkling in his eyes. He clearly enjoyed it, pushing the boundaries and expectations of this otherwise perfect family that couldn’t understand him, and it was a role that he played entirely for his own amusement. If arrogant Mike had thought he could embarrass his brother, he clearly didn’t know him at all. Talon was the one person in the whole world who felt no shame at all for being entirely who he was.

“Actually, I’ve been putting on a lot of weight since Talon and I got together,” Lucas stated simply, rubbing his smooth stomach as if to demonstrate to the family that he was really a lot softer and fatter than they may have expected from the loose fit of his shirt. He felt Talon’s hand slide affectionately onto his thigh and Lucas turned to look at his handsome boyfriend, smiling with pride. “It’s something Talon and I have been enjoying a lot.”

The arrogant brother had been stunned into silence, whilst others looked down awkwardly or stared at the two of them, wondering what on earth they meant.

“I’m taking Lucas out for more dessert after this,” Talon added. “He’s got an amazing sweet tooth,” he continued, joining Lucas to affectionately rub his little tummy and even give it a small pinch. “As you can all probably tell!”

Still there was silence around the table, something the waiter noticed as he walked by, asking them if they were ready for the check.

“Thank you,” Talon mouthed to Lucas as soon as the attention was diverted away from them. He couldn’t have looked prouder or more in love if he had tried. Not only did he have someone who shared his sense of humour and passions, he also had a guy who understood him completely. Anyone who could out themselves as a gainer to his parents upon the first time of meeting them, was definitely a keeper in Talon’s eyes.

Waking up in the hotel room the next morning, Talon and Lucas had both become so aroused as they realised the dress pants from Lucas’ suit were never going to button, and that even the jacket was too tight to button properly. Despite how well most of his clothes had been hiding it, it was obvious now that Lucas’ ass had been quietly blowing up a lot more than either of them had realised, making them laugh how, even when sucking in hard, the greedy boy couldn’t even come close to buttoning them up.

But as Talon went off to get showered, Lucas was faced with the awkward job of actually having to find an alternative to wear that day, even with the limited amount of items left in his weekend bag. He cursed himself, having spilt chocolate milkshake all down his shirt and pants from the night before, eliminating those entirely. The only other smart pants he had with him just about buttoned up after quite some effort. However, they were an extremely snug fit, with an unflattering cut now that he was carrying more than a few extra pounds on his rear. Lucas had only packed them in the hopes of turning Talon on during their long drive home in the car they’d borrowed from one of their housemates. 

“Oh, Talon! What am I going to do?” Lucas fretted. “I don’t think I can wear these either, and there’s nothing else that’s left in my bag. Just look at me!”

Gazing over at his boyfriend’s face as he returned from the bathroom, Lucas could clearly tell that Talon had left the building. His eyes had misted over with lust and his jaw was slack, as if his brain simply could not function any longer. “You look amazing!” he growled with lust, already dressed up in his fitted, smart, stylish and sexy suit.

“Look at how it stretches over my ass though,” Lucas pointed, feeling genuinely concerned. “I don’t know how well I will even be able to walk. You can even see the outline of my dick in them!” he gasped, feeling almost panicky at how much of his gains people would be forced to see at this super expensive wedding.

“You looking fucking awesome!” Talon whispered into his ear, coming closer and feeling up his body in all the fleshier spots that Lucas knew the bad pants and tight shirt exposed so much.

“Talon, I’m serious!” the chubby guy protested, as his man unbuttoned tortured pants and started tugging on Lucas’ dick as they gazed at his reflection in the mirror. 

“So am I,” Talon growled, briefly stepping back to throw his jacket off, then unstrap his own belt and lower his zipper, pulling out his immortal erection that had already been inside Lucas that morning. Talon knew exactly what Lucas liked, making the chub shudder with pleasure within moments of first tugging them both off together.

Within no time at all, Talon was manouevering his boyfriend over to the opposite side of the room, lifting him with the strength of three men and laying him down on the top of the desk that was there. He unbuttoned Lucas’ shirt, sighing with awe as he saw the fatty torso before him: so perfect, so fat. 

Lucas moaned on the table top as he felt Talon’s large hand sliding up and down his hardness. In return, he grabbed at his boyfriend’s erection and did the same. He stared across the room, able to see the sexy reflection of them both in the mirror; Talon’s extremely broad back and large arms; his sexy, tight ass, still inside his dress pants and moving slightly as he thrusted a little in time with Lucas’ hand work; his strong hips moving in and out.

“Promise me that you’ll wear those pants today,” Talon moaned with lust. Lucas could tell that the hunk wasn’t going to last long before climaxing. But, then again, neither was he.

“But I’m too fat for them,” he breathed lustfully back.

“You’re way too fat for them,” Talon agreed with delight. “That’s what’s got me so fucking horny!”

Lucas moaned even louder. There was little else that got him more aroused than hearing Talon tell him how fat he was looking.

“I want everyone to see how soft and doughy you are,” Talon stated, almost aggressively, as his orgasm started to build. “Promise me you’ll wear them.”

By that point, Lucas was already climaxing; squirting all over his torso. “I promise!” he screamed, pleased that he was even able to scramble a response back at all. However, it made Talon moan louder than he had ever heard before, and Lucas suspected, quite rightly, that he might have just given the kinky boy one of the best orgasms of his life.

They’d only just made it on time for the wedding; with the extreme eroticism of their morning ruining their timetable. Even now, the arousal of the two boys was practically leaching off their bodies.

Lucas had squirmed in his shirt on the walk down to the venue. It had been generously sized earlier in the gains, but now it stretched across his bloated middle, with a little awkwardness. Even the collar seemed too tight, as a fresh, pudgy, puffiness was beginning to take over his face. 

Fed on a steady diet of Talon’s intelligent shakes, mixed in with appetite stimulants, Lucas’ stomach had found it surprisingly difficult to sit through the entire service without something to eat. It had gargled and rolled, aching for food. Each time, Talon had looked at him and grinned excitedly; his large hand rubbing affectionately on Lucas’ thigh and a stubborn, substantial firmness bouncing in his crotch.

Lucas hadn’t held back later on as the food was served. He’d wanted to try and make a good impression with Talon’s family, but his overactive appetite and revelations from the evening before had probably not helped. The news that Talon’s new boyfriend had come out as deliberately gaining weight had most likely spread with relative ease through the crowded event. In fact, it was realy quite obvious, given the looks he was getting at the buffet that evening. 

Talon hadn’t left his side, seeming to enjoy the thrill of showing off his chubby boyfriend to everyone. He’d brought him further platefuls and slices of cake, along with plenty of beers as they were needed. Before long, the shirt buttons had stretched rather worryingly and Talon seemed incapable of looking away from the gradually emerging belly flesh between those tortured buttons.

“Just think, maybe we could have our wedding here one day,” Talon whispered as the pair of them took to the dance floor for a slow dance at the end of the evening. Lucas could feel Talon’s hands on his hips, almost tugging dangerously at the pants as if to show off to all those looking on just how oversized Lucas’ butt was becoming. 

Lucas chuckled, knowing exactly what the cunning boy was doing and enjoying the fact that he could give him such a thrill. His only hope was that Talon wouldn’t tear them entirely, right there on the dance floor. “Maybe…” Lucas smiled, nuzzling into the strong man’s shoulder. “I’d want a better cake than their one today though,” he went on, remembering how unimpressive it had been,

“I’ll make sure that you have the best cake ever,” Talon whispered back. “Absolutely enormous, with all your favourite flavours; more calories in a single bite than most people eat in an entire day!” he teased. 

“Mmm! Yes please!” Lucas moaned back, having to push himself into Talon a little tighter so that his erection wouldn’t be seen by onlookers. He was definitely ready for bed, although he knew that neither of them would be going to sleep any time soon.

Lucas hadn’t gone home that second summer and Talon had picked up some work around the college as well. “I’m not about to skip town just as your tits are coming in,” the horny feeder had proclaimed.

Lucas had chuckled. It was too early to call them that, but he’d certainly been noticing the difference. Talon had wanted to fuss over them all the time and had found some pretty impressive ways to ensure Lucas experienced genuine pleasure from stimulating them. The sensations had only spurred Lucas on to redouble his efforts to consume even more. And, with the added income from Talon’s summer job, combined with his own, Lucas was soon enjoying quite the lavish lifestyle, consuming more calories in a day than a man four times his size. By the last week before college started up again, his nipples had indeed swollen and pointed with building blubber in his chest. The fat had even begun its journey, pushing its way under his arms and widening his chest, like a real fat boy’s. Talon also loved the look of Lucas’ arms as they too began to surrender to the invading softness; the contrast between Talon’s own bulked biceps and Lucas’dough never failing to turn them both on.

“Do you think people will be shocked?” Lucas asked, gazing at their reflections in the mirror as Talon cupped under his stomach fat and shook the blubber that had formed there. A naked Talon, so firm and athletic next to him, moaned with delight; his hardness bouncing and flexing at the ongoing differences between their bodies.

“Oh I hope so!” Talon nodded, feeling more of the lardy flesh that was now taking over Lucas’ once toned butt cheeks.

“So do I!” Lucas grinned, feeling proud after his morning weigh in. Having been a steady 130lbs since high school, Lucas was now having to get used to some very different numbers on the scale. Ever since the first ten pounds, he’d continued to see the figures steadily climbing higher and higher: 140lbs, 160… Now he stood beside Talon, pot bellied and doughy all over, with a weight that measured over 195lbs. The big two hundred was now tantilisingly close. But even after that, there would be more. Of course there would be more. 

It had been a relatively recent revelation to Lucas just how much pleasure he got from others noticing his gains. Perhaps it was because Talon seemed to get such a buzz out of it as well. Everything was sexier when Talon took an interest. With the warmer weather, Lucas had become used to heading to the park with Talon and taking his shirt off for all to see as they walked or lounged around. The feeling of blubber rippling through his body as he trotted along was an insanely erotic experiece; amplified only by the fact that Talon’s extreme weight training regime and cardio work had helped him pack on a further twenty-five pounds of pure muscle since they had started dating. He looked so much in shape, so strong and capable, that Lucas often felt that he had drifted off into a dream.

It was easy to get Talon’s attention. Indeed, it was like switching off all other mental functions to the boy’s brain once Lucas chose to remove his shirt and let out his belly. He’d tease the sexy guy with little moans when his stomach started to stretch, or whisper into his ear that he wanted more food. Talon’s hardness would respond, morphing into pure, thick concrete that could be seen through everything he wore. It was also a joy to see just how horny the kinky boy was for him. He could spend the entire day, climaxing again and again with Lucas, and was only ever one belly rub away from wanting to lavish Lucas with all of his doting affection.

Once Lucas’ butt started getting particularly squishy, Talon could hardly keep his hands off it. He continued to worship it, lying Lucas on his front in bed so that he could play and jiggle all that softness to his heart’s content. He enjoyed how the fat was spreading into Lucas’ thighs and how remarkably different his shape looked with the added mass on his hips. He liked seeing Lucas in sweatshorts and dress pants; anything where the material stretched over the oversized glutes and showed off the doughiness within. During times when his ass crack popped into view in public, Talon could barely contain his extreme arousal.

It was an absolute pleasure to gain for Talon. The validation and admiration his body gave the sexy man was something Lucas never thought was possible. Every fleshy ounce was noted and appreciated, his clothes shrinking every day. But then the magic seemed to stop. Shortly after hitting 215lbs, an entire month went by without gaining a thing, followed by a further week. It wasn’t possible to eat as much as Lucas did without getting fatter. So how was his body doing it?

“Nothing again!” Lucas grumbled, stepping off the scales in frustration.

“Don’t panic,” Talon chuckled, sliding in to smooch Lucas from behind. “You don’t need to put yourself under pressure for me. I can see the changes, even if the scale can’t,” he whispered, rubbing his hand against Lucas’ bulging love handles. “Trust me, I’ve got plenty of blubber to play with. You just need to relax and let it happen!”

Already Talon was moving in for another round of sex, locked in the bathroom together as they were. But the light from the scales might as well have been shining into Lucas’ face, for the numbers they displayed still burned in his mind. How long was he going to be stuck at just over two hundred and fifteen pounds?

“No, wait a second,” Lucas cried out to his lustful boyfriend. He looked at the gorgeous hunk; the evidence of how hard Talon had been working in the gym standing right before him, yet he was feeling so pitifully behind where he wanted his own body to be. “I need to start taking this more seriously,” he grumbled, rubbing his small, but very soft belly. “I really liked it when I was seeing big changes. I just… I miss getting fatter.”

Talon kissed him sweetly. “It’s just a plateau,” he offered soothingly. “These things happen.” He kissed Lucas again. “But, if you really want to get fatter… and I mean, seriously fatten up, I guess I can think of a few changes we could make to kick start things again. Then again… how fat are we talking?”

Lucas’ arousal immediately spiked. Talon sounded so confident and self-assured. Suddenly, the idea of gaining weight seemed so easy if left in his very capable hands. “I want to be huge!” he moaned, kissing Talon with lust. “Fatter than we’ve ever spoken about before!”

Talon looked at him, with a smirk of pleasure spreading across his face. “Okay,” he nodded slowly. “I can definitely do that to you.” 

The muscular man took a step back to look at Lucas’ body, as if to take a mental picture that he could keep forever, then he took Lucas’ hand and led him into the shower with him.

Lucas had been sound asleep when he first felt Talon touching him up. Shortly after, he was rolled onto his back, his legs spread, with Talon disappearing under the covers to blow him off at three in the morning. He moaned, reaching over his stomach to touch the back of Talon’s head, as the guy’s tongue worked with the utmost skill to make him hornier than ever. He knew Talon wouldn’t let him climax right away, but he still moaned with longing when Talon came back up. 

“Are you ready to get fatter for me?” the hunk asked, knowing that Lucas was aroused enough to do absolutely anything for him. He reached over and Lucas could suddenly see that the table on the side had been filled with shakes and treats. How long had Talon been awake, preparing it all? This hadn’t been in any way spontaneous. Did that make it even sexier?

In the quiet silence, Lucas swallowed and chewed between lustful kisses and whispered praise. He was still feeling tight after eating so much before bed, yet he was so horny and relaxed, he felt that he could keep going for hours. Somehow, it seemed more erotic and naughty at night, with no other sounds in the house at that time; Lucas’ chewing and slurping sounding ten times louder than ever before.

After the third shake, Talon expertly brought them both to a climax. Then, without much tidying, the strapping, muscular boy slipped his big arm over Lucas’ chest, slowly rubbing his boyfriend’s belly until he fell fast asleep. When he awoke, the room was tidy once more, with everything cleared away by a perky Talon who had just returned from a morning jog. 

“Morning, sleepy head!” the man teased, throwing off his sweaty t-shirt to launch himself down on the bed next to Lucas. “How’s your tummy this morning?” the kinky boy asked, pulling down the sheets a little so that he could kiss the softness of his chubby lover’s stomach.

Lucas raised his eyebrows in realisation. He’d felt so completely stuffed and bloated when he fell back asleep, yet, now he felt absolutely fine; hungry even, and he told a delighted Talon just that. “I do need to get up shortly though,” he sighed, enjoying the comfort of Talon’s bed. “I need to take a textbook back to the library.”

“Which library?” Talon asked, suddenly serious. Then, when told, he shook his head. “That’s like a half hour walk. No, I’ll take it back later,” he insisted, kissing the belly once more, breathing in the smell of it like a scented flower. “I’m not having you burning unnecessary calories at the moment”

“I can’t just stay in bed all day!” Lucas chuckled. But the grin on Talon’s face told him otherwise; letting him know that that was exactly what was going to be happening that day.

Lucas didn’t need the scales to tell him that he was gaining weight again over the next couple of weeks. He could feel himself softening all over, his blubbery glutes spreading wider across the bed as he sat up to eat whatever it was Talon had brought in for him. He didn’t dare ask what was in the recipes, knowing only that Talon was getting very hard as he ate it all up for him. How many sticks of butter? How many cartons of cream? All of those hidden calories that his boyfriend had been researching how to include in his food. Lucas found that there was a deep, erotic pleasure in the not knowing just what was being done to him.

The nightly feedings had become a regular fixture and Lucas hadn’t done anything more physical than was absolutely necessary. His underwear were pinching him badly in his hips, needing to be constantly tugged out of his crack. He explained his predicament to Talon, hoping he’d find it sexy, but as soon as the inevitable sex was over, Talon went straight out after the gym to buy him a whole load of larger sized ones.

“I can’t believe you’re in XXL underwear already,” Talon sighed with delight, unboxing them all and holding them out for him to admire the size. 

“Well, you did always promise me a fat ass,” Lucas chuckled, having thought for some weeks that his rear was morphing into quite an unfamiliar shape. Pants did not sit at all the same now that his shape was beyond what the fashion industry chose to cater for. He looked at the way Talon’s clothes caressed his cute butt so well, then saw his own monstrous, wide rear that only seemed to be emphasised even more by the poor fashion available to him,

“A funny thing happened whilst I was training tonight,” Talon began explaining, simultaneously mixing up his most effective calorie shake to date. “This lady came up to me and said she works for a modelling agency. She said she wants me on her books. Said that I’ve got a look that a lot of advertisers are looking for these days,” he explained.

“That’s amazing!” Lucas gushed. He didn’t need anyone to tell him that he was dating the most handsome man in the world, but it was amazing validation for Talon, who’d trained so hard at the gym for so long.

“If she’s right, she said I could earn quite a bit of cash,” Talon smiled hopefully. “Enough to keep you overfed at least,” he added with a cheeky grin. “And it’s not just things like underwear you’re going to be needing. I know most of your pants are getting too tight and your belly sticks out of the bottom of your shirts quite often now. It’s sexy as hell, but probably not a look you want to show off in front of your parents and stuff,” he chuckled. “I’ll be able to take you out on more days out and spoil you.”

It was so typical of Talon to be blessed with good fortune and immediately begin to think about how he could use it to help Lucas. After only a week, Talon’s headshots were being dispersed around the industry and he was taking on bookings. Lucas half expected him to start going mad in the gym, training harder than ever, but Talon was as self confident as always. After the first few shoots, the amount of cash in his wallet had increased significantly and Lucas chuckled, imagining what people must be thinking, seeing such a sexy guy like Talon in the supermarket picking up such fattening treats every single night.

Talon had been modest by not telling anyone about his new sideline career. However, he had soon been tagged by his new friends on his socials; each of them amazed, delighted and in awe of how good his body was underneath his shirt. For Lucas, it was a feeling of pure pride as Talon earned enough cash to afford a car; dropping him off and picking him up from classes to save his fat legs from walking. Talon also never shied away from those public displsays of affection and Lucas became used to being pulled in for a kiss whenever they were out; a constant hand resting on his jiggling lovehandle or out of shape butt.

Lucas had no idea that Talon would be given so many free clothes in his line of work. The sexy guy was turning heads everywhere he went with the daring new styles and perfectly fitting items draped across his perfect body. He’d see the girls checking him out and always enjoyed the look on their faces whenever he went to hold Talon’s hand. It was hot, knowing that everyone was so attracted to Talon, yet Lucas was the only one who could have him. He knew that there would be girls, as well as guys, on these shoots making passes at him, yet none of them would have what it took to turn Talon’s head.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have our own place?” Talon asked longingly. “That way, I’d be able to pump you full of soda at 3am and not have to worry about your burps waking everyone up. You’d never have to wear a shirt inside again; just keep that fat belly out all the time,” he whispred, rubbing the mass of stomach fat on his lover.

“I’d love that,” Lucas nodded in agreement, having begun to wonder just what they should do once college ended in a few months. He already stayed each night in Talon’s bed, often not going upstairs to his own space for days at a time. Judging by their grades, he knew that they would both be finishing with good degrees. Lucas managed to squeeze in all his studies and work time within the day, or in the evenings when Talon was working out; whereas Talon was just naturally gifted when it came to acquiring high grades. He had smarts and a shrewdness than few people could lay claim to. Nothing got by him and he was rarely caught out by anything. Just like Lucas’ fattening, Talon seemed to understand all the factors and play and how to use them to get what he most wanted.

And at a now 290lbs of pure, blubbery goodness, Talon’s efforts were definitely getting him results.

It was two in the morning when Talon and Lucas rolled into the house. Talon hadn’t been able to keep his hands off his fat boyfriend the whole cab ride home and he now pushed Lucas into his bedroom without even heading to the kitchen for the usual calorie shake before bed. Talon, who was no stranger to lust, suddenly seemed more enraptured by his fat boy than ever before and Lucas wasn’t afraid to say so, laughing at how quickly he was being undressed by the furiously horny stud.

“You just… ate like such a fatty tonight,” the hunk explained between breathless kisses. “Seeing you around all the guys and girls in the model industry as well… it just reminds me how insanely soft and beautiful you are now. All our kinky little secrets and your enormous, greedy appetite written everywhere, across your whole body,” he exclaimed, running his hands all the way up and down Lucas’ giant belly. “I thought some of their eyes were going to pop out of their heads when you kept on going back for more and more food.”

“Did I really eat that much?” Lucas asked, feeling surprised to hear Talon bringing it up as if he had just completed the most momentous stuffing of his entire life.

“About four thousand calories, I counted,” Talon explained, “Everyone was watching. Everyone was thinking exactly the same thing...”

“What a pig?” Lucas guessed.

“What a greedy, fat piggy!” Talon nodded in complete agreement. He spoke with such glee and satisfaction. He was all wound up and excitable, now taking Lucas’ hardness into his hand and stroking it in just the way that he the obese boy liked.

“I had no idea,” Lucas gasped, caught by the sudden pleasure of embarrassment and excitement. They’d eaten before they even arrived at the party that night and, if he was really honest, he still felt rather hungry now. There was only one possible conclusion from what he had just learned in that moment, and he knew that it was the thought that was going to make him climax very shortly: he’d crossed some invisible threshold, he no longer understood how extreme his behaviour and appetite had become. Lucas was actually losing control.

In the coming weeks, after the toil of the final exams was over, with the graduation ceremony only weeks away, Lucas and Talon waved a fond farewell to the housemates they had grown so fond of. Some had lived with them for the full three years, whilst others had come later, only ever knowing Lucas as the fat man he now was. In all regards, the time at college had been lifechanging, with new friends and relationships that would last a lifetime. Jay and Sarah were still going strong, with plans of moving down to be near her family in Florida, where Sarah planned to open a bakery business that would no doubt increase the tremendous size of Jay’s already wide, fattened rear. Lucas watched that tubby butt walking away for the final time; Jay’s hand firmly grasping his secret feeder’s. It had been some time since Lucas’ own ass had been smaller than Jay’s and, rather than the jealousy he once felt when seeing the rear on the quietly fattened boy, now he only felt a smug sense of superiority, reinforced by the proud rubbing and patting that Talon was giving it right at that very moment, obviously thinking exactly the same thing. 

It was infectious, the buzz that Talong got, holding up Lucas’ pants and underwear in awe; his joy clearly displayed across his beautiful face. He swooned over the massive sizes that Lucas now needed just to cover up his fat. Every item was ridiculously oversized, the width of the pants when empty and draped over a chair causing Talon to lose his mind to lust every time he saw them. Lucas had also been experimenting with facial hair for a few months, so when he shaved it all off, ready for his graduation ceremony, the spectacle of his fatter chins had meant that Talon hadn’t been able to get his dick down in days.

The joy of having their own place after living in the house share for three years was a revelation. The new apartment was nice; very nice. Finally, Lucas had the space to slob out and relax without a shirt on once the summer heat was really biting hard. No longer needing to think of others, he had an entire kitchen filled with snacks and a freezer bursting with ice cream. Talon was earning enough to easily cover their bills, so Lucas didn’t feel the pressure that some of his peers did to rush out and get a job. For a few months at least, he was simply going to enjoy the lazy, obese lifestyle that he and Talon had fantisised about for years; his weight climbing higher and higher; faster than ever before. It had all been the perfect catalyst for a shockingly rapid fifty pound weight gain in just over three months. 

As for Talon, despite his outstanding grades, he also wasn’t in any hurry to use his new degree either. The modelling work was taking him further than either of them ever imagined. The amount of money he could make in a day was overwhelming,and he’d started stashing it away into multiple savings accounts to set the pair of them up for life. The only downside being that Talon was often away for days at a time. Thenm upon the advice of his agent, Talon had started acting classes as well, and was even being pitched for a few reality TV projects.

“I don’t care if they’re desperate for me to sign on, I’m not doing a dating show!” Talon laughed down the phone to his agent, Gail. Ever since his career had started taking off, she had barely left him alone, wanting to squeeze him for every cent she could make. “Because, as you well know, I’m in a relationship!” he sighed, feeling exasperated as he tried to feed Lucas at the same time as taking the call.

“She’s got a nerve calling you so much after you’ve just got home,” Lucas grumbled as Talon wiped around his mouth with a napkin. It was the first calm time they’d had together, given that Talon had immediately whisked him into the bedroom upon getting home. Lucas had meant to try and slow the gains down during Talon’s absence, but his completely defenceless metabolism had seemed to think otherwise. He’d grown lazy; very lazy indeed. Some days, he didn’t even leave the apartment, getting a confusingly erotic pleasure out of doing very little at all. Talon had spotted the added thickness around his neck and into his chubby face in an instant.

“Well, I’m putting my phone on silent now,” Talon promised, soon throwing it over to the couch on the other side of the room so as not to be within his reach. “Listen, I’ve been in touch with someone about coming over to do some personal training.”

“You don’t need a personal trainer,” Lucas scoffed. “You’ve got one of the hottest bodies in the world right now.”

“It’s not for me,” Talon mumbled, sounding slightly embarrassed. “It’s someone to come and work out with you.”

Lucas’s face was one of pure horror. “For me?” he gasped. “Why the hell would I need someone to work out with me?”

“Just some stretches and light cardio work to keep you moving,” Talon smiled, seeing how shocked and disappointed his lover was. “It’s pretty obvious that you’ve hardly left the apartment since I went away.”

“But… I thought you were happy for me to just sit around all day?” Lucas mumbled, feeling like the rug had just been pulled from under him; as if the good times had suddenly come to an abrupt end. “How am I supposed to keep growing if you make me exercise?”

“It’s not necessarily about stopping you getting fatter,” Talon laughed, seeing the sulk Lucas had suddenly slipped into. “Sometimes I think you don’t realise how fat and lazy you actually are now,” he stated, sitting back slightly just to appreciate the enormity of his lover.

Lucas continued grumbling. He couldn’t say that he fully understood or agreed with Talon’s reasoning. In his mind, he still had much further that he wanted to go with his gains. However, it suddenly felt like Talon had reached a level that he was content with. Lucas was, at long last, fat enough.

He decided not to dwell on it, knowing that he only had Talon for one night, before work would drag him away again. There would be no point in spoiling the entire evening with an argument about taking a small amount of exercise. But the meaning behind it? Well, that hurt a little more.

Her timing couldn’t have been worse, Lucas thought, grumbling at seeing Talon’s agent on the intercom screen a couple of weeks later. Sweaty and aching from his first personal training session, Gail was the last person he wanted to see at that moment. The last hour had been pure torture. Lucas had been able to tell from the second that Talon’s trainer had arrived that he’d had absolutely no comprehension of how fat his client was actually going to be that day. Knowing Talon through a modelling shoot, he’d questioned Lucas again and again to check that he was at the right address, not believing for some time that he was in the presence of Talon’s real boyfriend. For the first ten minutes, he’d talked about nothing but weight loss and goals, even despite Lucas’ assurances that he wasn’t doing this to lose weight. One of the things Lucas had most enjoyed about getting larger was the fact that it gave him a licence to be as lazy as he liked. Talon’s whole reason for buying a car had been to save his fat boy from burning too many calories. As such, it made things sexy and erotic when Lucas had been a little slower doing things, or when he needed to take a moment to catch his breath. The exercise that afternoon however, had been anything but an erotic experience. Once they’d got going, the routine had been clunky and overly challenging, with the guy openly admitting that he had never tried to work with someone as large as Lucas before.

“He’s not in!” Lucas shouted down the intercom at Talon’s agent. He felt in no mood to deal with her bullshit and, in that moment, he felt fairly cross with Talon too, for making him get so hot and sweaty.

“I just need to drop off some contracts,” Gail shouted back into the intercom. “I won’t be long!”

Sighing, Lucas reluctantly buzzed the woman in and stood outside the apartment door waiting for the elevator to arrive. Just as normal, Gail breezed on by with her own agenda, flowing by Lucas and inviting herself straight into the apartment.

Flushed and sweaty, Lucas wasn’t looking, or even smelling, his best. However, Gail’s disapporoving look would have been the same, no matter what he looked like at that moment. “These contracts need signing and returning to me as soon as Talon gets home tomorrow,” Gail stated, as if explaining it to a child. “It needs to be the first thing he does when he gets home.”

Lucas took the envelope and opened it up, despite the little gasp of surprise from Gail as he did so. “This is for the reality dating show,” Lucas mumbled. “Talon told you he didn’t want to do that.”

Gail’s teeth clenched with impatience. “Well, what Talon says, and what he needs, are two very different things,” she preached. “I know what’s best for him. A career in this industry is like a well played game of chess: make the right moves at the right time and there is no end to what you can achieve.”

“Well,” Lucas sighed, handing her back the envelope, “Talon’s told you his decision. It’s a no.”

Gail was clearly used to getting her own way. She stood there, glaring at Lucas like he was a disgusting piece of gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe. “What are you even doing?” she complained, refusing to move her arms and take the envelope from him. “You really think you can keep hold of a guy like Talon?”

Lucas was slightly taken aback. Then, with that, Gail laughed; a spiteful, menacing look in her eyes. Instantly, Lucas was transported back to high school, imagining girls just like Gail conducting their exhausting mind games and less than subtle manipulations. “What’s so funny?” he huffed, realising that he no longer needed to pretend to like Gail.

“You are!” Gail smirked. “I mean, look at you! Every time I see you, you look like you’ve gained thirty pounds. And yet, you seem to think that a man like Talon is going to stand by you no matter how much you let yourself go!”

“You have no idea about our relationship!” Lucas shouted back.

“Oh, I think I do, honey!” Gail laughed again. “I’ve seen it hundreds of times before. There are millions of guys out there, just like Talon; with their cheeky preference for people who are on the larger side. And I don’t doubt that you two might have had something special once. But, sweetheart, you need to get a grip. You’ve turned into a whale! You can’t even begin to comprehend the world that Talon is living in now: surrounded by beautiful men and women every day; people who understand this life better than you ever could.” She paused only briefly, as if her spiteful words rose with such ease to her sharp tongue. “If he’s out there, travelling the world, he’s not going to want to come home to someone who hasn’t even got their enormous, lardy butt off the couch all day. Talon’s profile is getting bigger and bigger every single week. How long until people want to learn more about his personal life? His home town? Whether he’s single or not? You really think he’s going to take YOU with him to some movie premiere?” she laughed, as if the absurdity of the idea was all too much for her. “You’d turn him into some sort of freak show! A laughing stock! And that,” she threatened menacingly, “is something I cannot have.”

Lucas had never been the type to be easily rattled, yet Gail had done just that. As soon as he’d kicked her out, he’d tried to contact Talon to tell him what had happened. However, just like earlier that morning, there had been no answer. The waiting was torture, with Lucas suddenly finding himself questioning everything. Why did Gail still think she could get Talon to sign up for a reality dating show? Why hadn’t the personal trainer been told by Talon how big he was? Didn’t he share pictures of the two of them together? Did some people he worked with even know he was in a relationship? Was his whale-like appearance now becoming an embarrassment for Talon? Was that why he’d hired a personal trainer?

That evening, Lucas lay there on the giant couch like a beached whale. His enormous, fleshy belly had long since slipped out of his shapeless t-shirt and was draped across the cushions; with sweat leaching from the bare skin due to the summer heat. He’d never been particularly tall, and so the prospect of being over four hundred and thirty pounds had felt like a fantasy in those early days. He’d had to learn to consume so many calories, to step back from overdoing it with the exercise. Now it was all second nature. 

Getting up off the couch was an unpleasant thought. There would have to be stages to it. He’d have to use his arms to support himself and try to swing his body in the right way to keep the momentum so that it wouldn’t be too exhausting after all that exercise. He knew what people thought of him: that he was gross and disgusting. But he had never imagined that Talon would feel those things too: that he could ever get too fat, too greedy and lazy. Yet, he hadn’t seen Talon in days. In fact, the handsome man who had started all this wasn’t even returning his calls. 

Lucas felt so alone, and yet, so desperately hungry: for food, as well as the fat that was slowly taking over his entire existence. 

“Oh, my goodness! What a day!” Talon cried out a couple of hours later, catching Lucas by complete surprise as he ate his feelings with a massive tub of ice cream. “I haven’t stopped since half four this morning!” he chuckled, turning the corner and seeing his boyfriend at last. “Looks like the party has started without me!” he sighed, seeing his lazy, oversized boy with a smear of chocolate ice cream around his face. “They had to cancel the shoot because of the weather, so I got an early flight home.”

“Didn’t you see my messages?” Lucas asked, now far too sore from the workout that afternoon to get up and greet him..

Explaining that his cell phone had died that morning, Talon was soon brought up to speed on everything that had happened. He stayed silent, allowing Lucas to get it all off his chest, only preparing to speak once the fat man had stopped.

“Okay… first of all,” Talon began, as if about to start wading through hot treacle, “perhaps the personal trainer wasn’t my best idea,” he agreed, sitting a little closer to rub his obese boyfriend’s aching thigh. “And I’m definitely not wanting you to lose weight. It’s just… like I said last time… your body is gaining a lot of weight quite quickly. There’s nothing wrong with a fat guy improving his flexibility and stamina. I actually read that it helps to increase your appetite. Which, if I’m really honest, was my main reason for wanting to try it.”

Lucas felt a pinch of optimism as Talon’s hand reached out and grabbed the lardy flesh that had slid from under his t-shirt; his ever gentle fingers caressing it with as much affection as they always had.

“Plus, with the way that ass of yours is growing, I’m going to need you to have that flexibility to bend over quite a lot for me!” he teased, sensing that Lucas would be okay with him lightening the mood now that he had shared all of his concerns. 

“I know you sometimes feel guilty,” Lucas nodded, trying to understand Talon’s reasoning. “When we first got together, we never talked about me getting as big as I am now.” “No, that’s true,” Talon agreed, suddenly looking a little sheepish.

“And I know you sometimes feel bad for getting hard, hearing me huff and puff and get out of breath,” Lucas ploughed on; determined to get everything out in the open.

Talon nodded. “Yeah, that’s definitely something that plays on my mind sometimes,” he agreed, wriggling to disguise the boner he was getting just by talking about it.

Lucas chuckled, always enjoying seeing Talon squirm with these types of inappropriate erections.Then, recognising that they both knew that Talon was getting aroused, they laughed, lightening the mood even more.

“Remember though, I fell in love with a guy who was getting off to secretly fattening up his best friend without a second thought,” Lucas teased.

Talon smirked and wriggled a little closer to Lucas on the couch so that he could reach his hand over the full extent of Lucas’ belly to grab the remote and turn off the TV in the backround. “Oh, yeah,” he chuckled. “That certainly was a very strange thing to do…” he smiled playfully, grabbing the skin of Lucas’ belly fat once more and starting to rock the blubber so that it rippled through his entire body.

Now it was Lucas’ turn to be provoked into a more aroused state. He closed his eyes for a moment, simply to enjoy the pleasure of feeling all that fat moving across his monstrous body. “I love this,” he moaned.

“I know you do,” Talon whispered back.

“I’m getting so fat; so lazy and out of shape…”

Talon moaned as well; the words arousing him just as much. The pair of them looked at each other, both seeming to understand that the lust they felt for Lucas’ ever intensifying obesity was something that neither of them could ever control.

Talon inhaled deeply, trying to reset and focus once more. “As for Gail…” he began. “I’m sorry you had to put up with that. She must have gotten wind that another agent has been trying to get me to sign with him instead.”

“Another agent?” Lucas asked, unsure whether to feel pleased or frustrated about Talon taking on even more work. Not when he still had so much fat that he wanted to gain.

“Well, I don’t want to be working all over the place like I am at the moment,” Talon reasoned. “I explained our situation to him; how I want to be here, with you. This guy has much better connections, right here in New York: more money, more opportunities… more time with you!” he offered sweetly. 

“Good,” Lucas nodded in approval. “Because, I’m telling you… simply taking a shower these days is getting to be so…” “I know!” Talon jumped in excitedly, no longer ashamed to show that he enjoyed Lucas’ struggles. “And if you’re worried about me being somehow embarrassed about you,” he sighed, clearly showing a fair amount of guilt that Lucas had ever been made to feel that way, “this is exactly why you should use social media more.” He pulled out his cell phone, scrolling through app after app to show just how many pictures he had of the two of them together on both his personal and professional accounts. “You’re the person I’m most proud of in the entire world!” he exclaimed. He looked around, as if deciding whether to do something or not. “In fact…” he hinted, heading over to a drawer in the kitchen and rummaging around, right at the back. “I bought this a couple of weeks ago and was waiting for just the right time…”

Lucas gasped, spotting the box straight away. Then he held his pudgy hands over his large face, peeking as he saw the most handsome man in the world drop to his knees and propose to him. He had no idea that Talon had even been thinking about marriage; nodding his head without a second thought, before being swept up in an immediate, bold and romantic kiss.

“Now I have something to really fatten up for!” Lucas grinned excitedly, pulling off his t-shirt to unleash every last one of his blubbery belly rolls for the man he loved so much.

“I guess so,” Talon smirked, overwhelmed by the sight of Lucas. He lifted up the half eaten tub of ice cream from the coffee table along with the sticky spoon, clamped his hand onto Lucas’ belly fat and rocked it with nothing but love and lust in his eyes. “Come on then,” he whispered seductively; ready to feed. “Let’s get a jump start on some wedding preparations…”

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

I’m not sure if you’ve ever said anything about this, but the first time I read new moon, the vote chapter, there was one bit that really stuck out:

(from Bella’s point of view) Edward grabbed my face in his hand, forcing me to look at him. His other hand was out, palm toward Carlisle. Carlisle ignored that.

Bella later went on to say it was hard to talk clearly with how Edward was holding her jaw. I don’t know if I’ve misunderstood what exactly was happening, but why did the entire family watch that and do nothing? I’ve read the metas where you’ve said it’d take a lot for Carlisle to realise what Edward really is, but surely that’s a pretty massive indicator and Carlisle actively ignored it?

Anon, you're hilarious.

An Aside in Which I Say "Look in the Mirror"

I've been running this blog for a few years now (a terrifying thought) and I'm both a) one of the most critical of Edward in this space (which is not a bad thing, mind, people are free to do what they like) b) often get asks in which I am asked by anons to justify why I think poorly of Edward.

This is on top of the thousands of metas I've written pointing out various things from canon, where I've presented many arguments, and anons still will ask me to make more arguments.

This is fandom, anon, relatively objective observers who are privy to information the characters in the story don't have. We know Bella's exact thoughts, we know how Edward has interacted with her in private, and we even know Edward's private thoughts for at least the duration of Twilight because of Midnight Sun.

AND YET, I AM HERE.

And you ask this as if it should be obvious to the most casual observer.

Back to Your Ask

I've discussed this at length in posts I'm too lazy to look up at the moment but the crux of it is that

a) Edward's a beloved family member and it's deeply hard to think ill of those we love and we want to justify their actions

b) the family doesn't see most of what goes on with Bella and are only told things by Alice and Edward with Alice being firmly on Edward's side

c) Due to his having previously had a redemption arc in which Edward came back unprompted to the diet even though it must have been not only humiliating but terrifying, Edward comes across as one of the Cullens who best understands that human life is worth protecting and just why they're all doing the diet.

This particular moment though, I'd also give Edward a pass if I was present. To touch Bella at all, to move her like this, Edward has to be extraordinarily gentle and careful. If he was at all rough with her, at all, Bella would be dead or seriously injured (with her jaw crushed between Edward's fingers, her neck snapped, etc.) Basically, for Edward to do this at all, he's being incredibly mindful and the Cullens as vampires are very aware of that.

Add onto that that Bella can speak, when this is a guy who's hand is made of stone, he has to be holding her incredibly gently from his perspective for her to be able to speak at all (and not have a broken jaw).

Also from the outside perspective, where Bella and Edward are in this romantic relationship (even though they just got out of being broken up) and they all know Edward's deeply in love with Bella, this looks like an intimate gesture than it does a "LOOK AT ME" gesture. It's not something any of them would do, or a normal person would, but they're also not dating Bella/convinced they're soulmates with her.

Add into that that they're in the middle of a very intense day, in which Edward had just tried to kill himself and is very emotionally fragile, Bella's now asking to be turned directly, the Volturi barely pardoned them, and Edward is coming unglued with the idea that Bella's going to be turned and the Cullens aren't at the top of their game.

They're just trying to get through the conversation where they tell Edward (and Rosalie) that, yes, they actually do have to turn Bella.

This doesn't register as physical violence to them, and I don't blame them for this one.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

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a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drug use

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 11

Matt Sturniolo created his own world; only in his own environment did he feel secure, comfortable, and protected. A genuine camaraderie was created at Graceland. We lived as one big family, eating, talking, arguing, joking, playing, and traveling together.

Although I became friends with the guys in Matt’s retinue, he never let me, or anyone else, forget that I was his girl. I was never to get too close or become too familiar with any of the regulars.

One evening, after we came home from a movie, we said good night to everyone and went upstairs. Returning to the kitchen a few minutes later to get something to eat, I found Jerry Schilling, who’d just started working for Matt, making himself a snack. We started talking. A few minutes later, Matt appeared.

“What the hell are you two doing down here?” he shouted at us.

Intimidated, Jerry said, “Well, Matt, we were just talking. I was asking her how she felt, because she didn’t feel well this afternoon.”

“I came down to get something to eat,” I explained.

“y/nn, you don’t need to be roaming around here late at night,” he said, angrily ordering me upstairs.

Behind me, I could hear him lashing out at Jerry. “If you want to keep this job, son, you mind your own business. If there’s anyone who’s going to ask her how she feels, it’ll be me. You better mind your own goddamn business.”

I liked Jerry. He was warm, sincere, and very personable; just a couple of years older than I, he was one of the few people who I could relate to. But from that time on, it was a dodging match every time we’d run into each other. Now Jerry and I laugh about the “good old days” when we reminisce.

Most of the boys who worked for Matt had been around from the beginning and they knew all about him—his sense of humor, his sensitivity, and his temper. He stripped himself bare in front of them, and they accepted him for what he was.

Yet working for Matt was a twenty-four-hour-a-day job, and the boys were at his beck and call constantly. They played when he played and slept when he slept. It took a certain kind of personality to put up with his demands, whether they made sense or not.

“Come on, y/nn, let’s go to Los Angeles. I’ll show you where I film movies.,” he said one afternoon when we’d only been up for a few hours. He called downstairs and told Alan to alert everyone that he wanted to leave within the hour.

Alan said, “Okay, Boss. I think Richard and Gene are still sleeping. I’ll give ’em a call and tell ’em to come right over.”

“Their lazy asses are still sleeping?” Matt asked. “I’ve been up for two goddamn hours. They should have been over here by now. Alan, from now on, when I call down for my breakfast, call the boys and tell them I’m up and to be ready for anything, and that may include me not even coming downstairs. I just want them here.”

Demanding? Yes, but Matt could be just as generous. By today’s standards the boys’ salaries were not high—the average paycheck was $250 a week—but if the boys ever felt the pinch by the end of the month, they would go to Matt. They’d ask him if he could help them out with a down payment on a house or the first and last months’ payments on an apartment. Matt always came through for them, lending them the one thousand or five thousand or ten thousand dollars they asked for. He was rarely if ever paid back.

There also was no limit to the expensive gifts he gave them—television consoles for Christmas, bonus checks, Cadillac convertibles, Mercedes-Benzes. If he heard someone was sad or depressed, he loved to surprise them with a gift, usually a brand-new car. When he gave to one, he would usually end up giving to all.

James didn’t have much respect for the guys. He said Matt just gave and gave and gave, and they took and took and took. He’d say, “Son, we have to save.” Matt would answer, “It’s only money, Dad. I just have to go out and make more.”

James resented the regulars acting as if Graceland was their personal club. They’d go into the kitchen at any hour and order anything they wanted. Naturally, everyone ordered something different. The cooks worked night and day keeping them happy. James felt, “To hell with the boys. Their main concern should be Matt.”

What was really outrageous was that the regulars were ordering sirloin steaks or prime ribs while Matt usually ate hamburgers or peanut butter and banana sandwiches.

I wasn’t too popular around Graceland when I started reorganizing the kitchen. I set down a policy of having one menu per meal, and anyone who didn’t like what was on it could go to a local restaurant. This new edict resulted in much grumbling from the guys, but the cooks were relieved, and James sanctioned my decision, announcing, “It’s about time someone organized the meals. It was beginning to look like we were feeding half of Boston.”

Matt was the boss, the provider, and the power. Both the boys and I had to protect him from people who annoyed or irritated him and were no longer in his favor. Before coming down for the evening, he’d have me call downstairs to check who was there. I’d run down the guests, aware that certain names would strike him wrong.

“Shit,” he’d say, his mood destroyed. “What’s he want? Bring me some more bad news?” He’d stay up in his room rather than spend an evening with someone he didn’t like. There was one particular regular who had incurred his disfavor, and Matt told everyone he didn’t want him around. “Don’t let him through those goddamn gates!” Matt ordered. “All I have to do is look at his face and I get depressed.” Matt barred him from Graceland for a number of years, saying, “If he changes his morbid attitude, maybe I’ll change my mind.” His perceptions were correct, as these “friends” eventually betrayed him.

Matt and James kept some of their relatives at a distance because, as Matt explained to me, they’d shunned him when he was growing up, ridiculing him as a sissy, a mama’s boy. Mary Lou stood up for Matt and told his tormentors to go their own way. Angrily, she had said, “Don’t bother us with these accusations.”

Then fame and fortune hit, and suddenly all the kinfolk came around, begging for jobs or crying that they needed help. Sometimes Matt got upset, charging, “The only time they visit is with their hand out. It’d be nice if they’d come around just to see how I was doing. But hell no, it’s always, ‘Ah, Matt, I could use a little extra cash. Could you help me out?’ Hell, I’ll bet when I’m dead and gone, they’ll still be taking advantage.” But Matt ended up slipping each of them a hundred dollars or more every time they came around. If it had been up to James, he would have gotten rid of every one of them. But Matt kept saying, “No, Dad, they don’t have any place to go. They couldn’t work anywhere. Keep them here.”

From the beginning of his success, Matt put many family members on salary, and all had titles. James was his business manager; Patsy, his personal secretary; uncles Vester Sturniolo and Johnny and Travis Smith, and cousin Harold Lloyd, gate guards; cousins Billy, Bobby, and Gene, personal aides; and then there was Tracy Smith, who seemed to go from brother to brother for support. Matt took care of everyone.

I remember one night at Graceland when Matt came back to the kitchen and saw Tracy pacing the floor. “Hey, Tracy,” he said, “How ya doing, man?” Tracy, his hands in his pockets, could hardly look Matt in the eye. “I don’t know, Matt,” he sighed. “What do ya mean, you don’t know? Everyone knows how they’re doin’, man.”

Tracy, shifting back and forth, mumbled, “I got my nerves in the dirt, Matt.” Matt staggered back, laughing. “Nerves in the dirt! Hell, I never heard it expressed like that before. You need some money, Tracy?”

Again, Tracy just shifted back and forth, as Matt called Nate over and told him to give Tracy a bill. A big smile covered Tracy’s lined face as he happily took his hundred dollars and walked out the door.

Matt knew that having his nerves in the dirt was Tracy’s way of saying he was down and out—and worried sick about it. He never forgot that phrase. “Poor ol’ Matt,” he’d say. “I’ll never forget the look on his face that night, poor ol’ guy.”

That was Matt—always caring, always sensitive to everyone’s needs, even while presenting a macho image to his fans and friends.

Anything I could think of doing for him, I did. I made sure Graceland was always warm and inviting, with the lights turned low, as he preferred them, the temperature in his bedroom set to his exact desire (freezing), and the kitchen filled with the aroma of his favorite meals.

Every night before dinner was served, I came downstairs first, checked with the maids to see that his food was just the way he liked it—his mashed potatoes creamily whipped, plenty of cornbread, and his meat burnt to perfection. I always had candles on the dining room table to create a romantic atmosphere despite the fact that we always ate with several of the regulars.

I loved babying Matt. He had a little-boy quality that could bring out the mother instinct in any woman, a beguiling way of seeming utterly dependent. It was this aspect of his charm that made me want to hold him, shower him with affection, protect him, fight for him, and yes, even die for him. I went to extremes in taking care of him, from cutting his steak at dinner to making sure his water glass was always filled. I enjoyed pampering and spoiling him and found myself jealous of others vying for his attention and approval.

But I didn’t always receive his approval. If something went wrong with his dinner, Matt blew up. “Why isn’t this steak done? Why didn’t you make sure the maids cooked it right? If you’d have done your job, it wouldn’t have turned out like this.” Obviously something else was wrong, and I didn’t recognize it at the time. Because of the continuous pressures and problems in Matt’s life, all magnified by taking prescribed drugs, little things would set him off. I took responsibility for everything in his life and always took it all too personally.

I wanted to be with Matt as much as I could, but while going to the movies or the fairgrounds every night might have been a wonderful way for him to relax, it posed an enormous problem for me. Often I wouldn’t get home until 5 or 6 a.m., and I’d have to be at school two hours later. Sometimes I never went to sleep. When I did, I could barely make it out of bed. I would lie there trying to drum up the strength to face the day, Matt making it even harder by suggesting that I sleep in and cut classes. It would have been so easy to go along with his suggestion, but hanging over me was the agreement I’d made with my parents. They trusted me and even though I was letting them down, I still had to keep up the facade.

Day after day I drove to school, attended classes till noon, then returned to Graceland to slip back into bed and cuddle next to Matt, who was still sound asleep. When he awoke at 3 or 4 p.m., I might never have left his side for all he knew. I was there to give him his usual order of orange juice, a Spanish omelet, home-fried potatoes, a mere two pounds of bacon, and—first and foremost—his black coffee.

Everyone who knew Matt was aware that it took him at least two to three hours to wake up fully. Asking him to make a decision, even a simple one such as what movie he wanted to see that night, was ill-advised. He was just too groggy and irritable from the sleeping pills, which were causing him to sleep as many as fourteen hours a day. It seemed only natural for him to take some Dexedrine to wake up.

I was always concerned about his intake of sleeping pills. His horror of insomnia, compounded with a family history of compulsive worrying, caused him to down three or four Placidyls, Seconals, Quaaludes, or Tuinals almost every night—and often it was a combination of all four. When I expressed my concern, he just picked up the medical dictionary, always near at hand on his night table.

“In here is the explanation for every type of pill on the market, their ingredients, side effects, cures, everything about them,” he assured me. “There isn’t anything I can’t find out.”

It was true. He was always reading up on pills, always checking to see what was on the market, and which ones had received FDA approval. He referred to them by their medical names and knew all their ingredients. Like everyone else around him, I was impressed with his knowledge and certain that he was an expert. One would think he had a degree in pharmacology. He always assured me that he didn’t need pills, that he could never become dependent on them. This difference in opinion resulted in many serious confrontations; I always compromised my integrity and ended up taking his viewpoint.

I began taking sleeping pills and diet pills too. Two Placidyls for him and one for me. A Dexedrine for him and one for me. Eventually Matt’s consumption of pills seemed as normal to me as watching him eat a pound of bacon with his Spanish omelet. I routinely took “helpers” in order to get to sleep after wild rides at the fairgrounds or early-morning jam sessions. And I routinely took more “helpers” when I woke up in order to maintain the fast pace and, more importantly, to study for my final exams.

During the last month before finals, I started popping more dexies than before. They seemed to give me the energy I needed to get through classes and homework. Every free moment was devoted to cramming a whole semester’s work into a few weeks. But my concentration was scattered; the strain of life at Graceland had finally caught up with me.

I had already been warned by Sister Adrian that in order for me to graduate, I had to pass all my subjects. During a talk in her office, I wanted desperately to confide in her and explained how hard it was to maintain my grade level with the late hours I kept: But how could I tell that to a nun?

I had no real goals after graduation, but I did sometimes dream of becoming a dancer or possibly enrolling in an art academy. Now I realize that I was deeply influenced by Matt’s casual attitude toward continued schooling. He figured I didn’t need it and I agreed. Just being with him most of the time would provide an education—not to mention experience—that no school could give me. He wanted me to be his totally, free to go to him in an instant if he needed me.

That sounded great to me. I’d never planned on a future without Matt. Therefore, while my classmates were deciding which colleges to apply to, I was deciding which gun to wear with what sequined dress. I was tempted to say to Sister Adrian, “Oh, by the way, Sister, does gunmetal gray go with royal blue sequins?” With that attitude it was no surprise that I was still woefully unprepared for my most hated subject, algebra, the week before finals.

On the day of the test, I sat in the crowded classroom, hyper from downing a dexy, trying to work out the problems. Despite my effort, I knew there was no way I was going to pass. I started to panic. I had to graduate. I had an obligation to Matt and to my parents, who I knew would yank me out of Graceland the minute I failed this test. I glanced at the girl next to me—and at her completed test paper. It’s my last resort, I thought. I’m going for it. I was not willing to face the consequences of being sent home for failing this test.

Her name was Janet and she was a straight A student. I tapped her on the shoulder and flashed my brightest smile, whispering, “Are you a Matt fan?” Taken aback by my question, Janet nodded yes. “How would you like to come to one of his parties?” I asked.

“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I’d love to.”

“Well, I know a way that it can be arranged.”

I eyed her test paper and explained. Janet instantly grasped my dilemma and, without a word, slid her paper to the edge of her desk. Now I had a full view of her answers. I spent the rest of the hour furiously copying them down and I not only passed, but I got an A on that test.

I hadn’t expected Matt to make much of my graduation. His attitude was, “A diploma’s not that important; life’s experiences are.” But to my surprise, he really looked forward to it and arranged to have a big party for our friends after the ceremony. There he presented a beautiful red Corvair, my first car.

On the big night he was like a proud parent. Nervous about what he should wear to the ceremony, he finally settled on a dark blue suit, and I put on my navy blue gown. I couldn’t possibly keep the cap on over that mass of teased hair.

Matt had a limo waiting for us out front. But there was one problem: I did not want him to come to the actual ceremony. It would attract a lot of attention, and all eyes would be focused on him instead of the graduating seniors.

Finally I worked up enough courage to ask him to wait outside, and explained why. Smiling his funny little grin, the one that came to his lips when he was hurt or upset, he agreed without hesitation. “I hadn’t thought about that,” he said. “I won’t come in. I’ll just be outside in the car waiting for you. That way I’ll kinda be there.”

And that was what he did. I accepted my diploma with mixed emotions. I would have loved for him to have been watching, but only I knew what a physical, emotional, and mental strain it had been to get that piece of paper. To me, it represented freedom, freedom to stay out until dawn if I wanted and sleep all day if I wanted. It represented freedom from my school uniform and from the teasing the entourage subjected me to every time they caught me in it trying to sneak past them at Graceland. I was a big girl playing in the big leagues.

As soon as I could get away, I ran outside. In front of the church, Matt and the boys were standing by the long black limo, looking like the Chicago Mafia in their dark glasses and suits, each concealing a.38. Around them a group of nuns were clamoring for Matt’s autograph.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - so cute🎀

[homesickwhispers]

care.

Van helps you unwind after a stressful day of work, doing everything in his power to make the night pleasurable for you.

warning: NSFW content

ps: hi guys, i just wanted to let you know that this story is a bit different from my previous ones, but still keeping the same vibes haha. I’d consider all my stories to be very personal but this one is extremely vulnerable considering it involves an actual struggle of mine. :/

I’ve been wanting to write this for a while, for my girlies who struggle with it as well, I never saw any representation of it on the media so I thought well…I’m a writer after all, why not just make it?

I really hope you guys like this story, even though is a bit different. this is just another reminder that all of you are deserving of and will find a partner that loves and takes care of you like this. ❤️‍🔥

love to all. <3

I let out a long sigh as I finally sat down on my bed after an intense day of work. My body ached, every muscle screaming for relief, but when I saw Van sitting there, waiting patiently for me, a wave of comfort washed over my mind.

He probably had been in my room for a few hours now, waiting for me to come back, giving me a sweet smile when he saw me opening the door.

“Sorry I took so long, we had an awful day today… hope you didn’t wait too long.” I finally spoke, already feeling the need to justify myself.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “You’re worth it.”

Van had no idea the way his words made me feel. Every time he said something like that, it sent a wave of goosebumps over my skin. His voice, so calm and certain, made my heart race in ways I couldn’t explain.

He didn’t say a word after that, but I could tell he sensed my exhaustion. He always seemed to know what I was feeling without me needing to spell it out, giving me the space I needed to process before pushing for more.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness we shared—it was how effortlessly he could make me feel seen, understood, even cherished.

We had this strange, undefined dynamic—neither fully together nor apart. Yet, every night, he came to my room, sleeping beside me as if we were something more. As if being together was already natural for him.

Normally, I wouldn’t settle for this ambiguity. But with Van, it felt… different. It felt worth the wait, worth letting things just be for once, without rushing or forcing labels.

As the soreness took control of my body, all I wanted was to end this day as quickly as I could.

“I think I need a bath,” I murmured, more to myself than to Van, already imagining the warm water washing away the stress of the day.

Excited to finally be doing something after staying in my room for a few hours, he immediately got up, taking my lazy comment as an actual order. “I’ll run the water for you.” His voice light but eager.

“Oh no, there’s no need-“I began, but he was already halfway to the bathroom, determined to help in whatever way he could.

I felt a little self-conscious about him helping with something so simple. But before I could protest further, he had already disappeared behind the door.

I heard the faucet turn on, the sound of water filling the tub, and I let myself relax for a moment.

It felt strange to have someone taking care of me like this. Especially someone who didn’t expect anything back like Van. I mean, what could I possibly do for him, that someone else couldn’t do better? Why wouldn’t he want someone who made things…easier?

Before I could overthink it more, Van returned, leaning against the doorway with that easy smile of his.

“Water’s perfect. You can check if you want,” he teased, his eyes flickering with amusement.

I shook my head, feeling my heart race a little. “Thanks”

As I moved toward the bathroom, my fingers automatically went to the hem of my shirt, but I froze when I realized Van’s eyes were still on me. There was something soft in his gaze, a question lingering just beneath the surface.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked, his voice softer now, no teasing edge.

I hesitated, my fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt tightly. I could feel the weight of my insecurities pressing down on me. We never took a bath together, and it felt weirdly vulnerable this night.

But instead of pushing him away, I surprised myself by shaking my head. “You can stay… if you want,” I mumbled, deciding to keep my underwear on for a moment. It was safer, a small barrier between me and my own vulnerability.

Van’s eyes stayed on mine, searching, but he didn’t push. “I can seriously leave if you want,” he offered again, giving me the choice.

I felt a rush of something—nervousness, but also a quiet thrill. Slowly, I unhooked my bra, then slipped off my underwear, standing bare before him for just a moment.

His eyes softened further, but he didn’t move, letting me control the moment. Before I could second-guess myself, I stepped into the warm water, the heat immediately soothing my aching muscles.

Van let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he knelt by the side of the tub. “You really are something, huh?” he said, laughing softly. “Making me crazy when you’re this tired.”

I couldn’t help but laugh with him, the sound lightening the air between us. “It’s your fault,” I teased back, sinking deeper into the water, letting the heat and his presence wash over me.

Van reached into his pocket, pulling out some rolling papers and a small stash. He started rolling a joint, his movements calm and practiced, as if this was just another part of our strange routine.

Once it was ready, he lit it, taking a slow drag before passing it to me. The smoke curled lazily in the air, blending with the steam rising from the bath. I took a hit, the familiar taste hitting my lungs and relaxing me even more.

We passed it back and forth in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds in the room being the water’s occasional ripple and the soft crackle of the joint. It felt easy, sitting here with him, like we had done this a thousand times before.

“How was your day?” he asked eventually, his voice soft, his eyes watching me with that quiet intensity that always seemed to unsettle me in the best way.

“A lot” I sighed “But we are here now. No need to think about that.”

“Yes, we are” he said smiling as he pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles, a simple gesture that made my heart flutter.

I felt the water cooling down and I knew it was time to leave. As I shifted on the tub Van got himself up and reached for my towel, wrapping me like a present.

“I feel like a burrito.” I say laughing despite the tiredness

“A burrito, huh?” he said, smirking as he held me close. “That’s good, ’cause I’m about to eat you all up.”

“Evan!”

“Only if you let me, Els. I wanna make you feel good today.” He kissed my forehead gently but I felt tense.

“All you have to do is sit back and relax.”

He looked at me, waiting patiently as I searched for the courage to say no. “You can say no,” he spoke again, as if he could read my mind. “No is okay. We can just go to sleep.”

I swallowed hard, a lump forming in my throat.

It had been a week since we last had sex, and the guilt was creeping in.

Like I owed him something for all the times we hadn’t. But deep down, I knew Van would never want to do anything that hurt me. Still, the weight of my own insecurities felt heavy.

“I know,” I whispered, finally finding my voice. “But I don’t want to.”

My thoughts were jumbled, the combination of the warm bath, Van’s closeness, and the gentle way he held me making me feel too overwhelmed to think clearly.

It wasn’t like I could deny the way he made my body react. His touch, his words, it all set off sparks within me. I couldn’t lie to myself saying I didn’t miss him. Because I did, every hour of my day, his touch was like a ghost haunting me.

“Let’s do it, Van” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper.

Van smiled, the expression so bright it seemed to light up the room. “Are you sure?” he asked, the words making me blush.

“Yes.”

His smile softened, his eyes filling with warmth as he cupped my face in his hands. “You have no idea how much I want you, how much I have been wanting you.” he murmured. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

His words sent shivers through me, my body already so worked up from the day and all the sexless nights that I was afraid I’d climax the moment he touched me. I was still getting used to the fact that Van was touching me, kissing me, wanted me.

I closed my eyes as he kissed me for the first time in the night. The sensation of his lips against mine making my head spin.

I felt a spark of desire ignite within me. It wasn’t the kind of arousal I usually felt with him — instead, it was deeper, more primal, like my body was responding to his care and attention. He felt it too, I could tell by the way his chest rose and fell a little faster, the slight shift in his gaze that hinted he felt it too.

As we kissed, he slowly got rid of my towel, leaving me naked in front of him.

He pulled back again staring at my body, leaving my mouth tingling as he ran his fingers over my collarbone, tracing the curve of my breasts.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” he murmured, his eyes following his touch. “Could get lost in this body of yours.” He kissed along the top of my breasts, his tongue trailing a path across my chest. “So fucking perfect.”

I let out a cry, already feeling the wetness inside me starting to grown.

“Hey.” He asked tilting my chin up. “Do you think you have enough in you to make out, or do you want me already?” he asked, his tone teasing yet sincere, as if he were testing the waters to see just how far he could go with me tonight.

I felt my heart skip a beat at his question. The playful glint in his eyes made me aware of the tension building between us, a delicious mix of desire and uncertainty.

“I want to make out,” I replied, my voice slightly shy but laced with eagerness. “And… I think I’m ready for you, too.”

He gave me a quick peck joined by a satisfied smile before leading me to bed, guiding me gently by my waist and immediately taking off his shirt. His muscles on full display as he took off his pants, revealing his erection. My mouth went dry at the sight of him—there was nothing more attractive than seeing Van naked.

He was so beautiful, so gorgeous that it made my heart ache to look at him. He had so much power in his body, so much strength and grace, it almost made him unreal.

He was lean and fit from years of touring, with defined muscles in all the right places. I had seen him like this hundreds of times, but it never failed to make my breath catch in my throat.

Van got closer to me and his mouth dropped open, kissing and sucking at my sensitive skin. His teeth grazed across the spot where my neck met my shoulder. His hands found mine, intertwining our fingers as he pulled both hands behind my back. I shivered at his touch, letting out a soft moan.

His touch was gentle and loving, and every part of me felt like it was on fire. I closed my eyes, giving in to his soft bites and licks. He sucked a path across the curve of my shoulder, down to the swell of my breast. His teeth bit down gently, and I moaned again.

His lips found mine then, pulling and biting at my bottom lip. I wanted more. I wanted his mouth everywhere, on every inch of me. He kissed me until I was panting, my body clenching with need.

He sighed against my mouth as his hand found my breasts, stroking and rubbing over them until he found my nipples again. I felt a rush of moisture pool between my legs as he pinched and tugged, his teeth finding my earlobe and biting down.

“Van,” I gasped.

He groaned into my mouth, his other hand dropping to my clit. He rubbed the little nub, rolling his fingers over the sensitive spot until I was writhing. I pulled away from his kiss, arching my back and dropping my head. I cried out as his finger dipped lower, rubbing at my opening.

“Please,” I begged.

Van smiled softly as he pulled back “Just a second.”

He climbed out of the mattress and reached into his bag, pulling out a small bottle of lube. His expression was soft, full of care as he climbed over me, gently brushing my hair away from my face. “I’ve been doing some research…This will help us tonight,” he murmured, planting a soft kiss on my cheek.

There was something different in his touch—more deliberate, more mindful. It was like he was focused entirely on making me feel comfortable, and it made my chest tighten in the best way.

The last few times we’d made love, Van noticed I had been quieter than usual, barely responding to his touch. I wasn’t trying to shut him out, the truth is I was concentrating really hard on not feeling pain. Or at least, not letting him noticing I was going trough it

I have a condition called endometriosis and that has always made sex… complicated for me.

It’s like this invisible weight that I carry around, affecting my body in ways most people don’t understand.

I always felt weird about it, like I was broken or something. My sex drive was never as high as I thought it should be, and when it did kick in, the pain would be right there to shut it down.

I never really talked about it with anyone because who wants to explain that? That even when I want to, my body fights against it? It’s frustrating, and honestly, it’s made me feel embarrassed sometimes. Like I couldn’t give enough, couldn’t be what someone else needed.

Most days, things with Van were easy. He knew exactly how to make me feel good before we even get to that point, but last week had been a sequence of rough days.

The pain was constant, and no matter how much I wanted to be present with him, I just couldn’t ignore it.

I hadn’t told him at first. Lying that I was just tired from work. I didn’t want him to feel like something was wrong with me. I was scared it’d push him away.

He could sense something was wrong, but didn’t say a word, waiting to see what I was feeling, without pushing me to say it.

But after one particularly difficult night, he asked me what was going on. His voice was gentle, and there was no judgment in his eyes, just concern. So, I told him. I explained how sometimes it hurt more than I let on, how I didn’t want to stop having sex, but there were moments when the pain overshadowed everything else.

I thought I’d feel embarrassed, opening up like that, but with Van, it was different. He listened without interrupting, his hand resting on mine the entire time. We talked about it for hours that evening, him holding me, promising that he could do so much better.

When I finished, he didn’t make a big deal of it, didn’t try to fix it right away.

It was like something shifted in him that night.

That feeling had transferred into the bedroom.

I wasn’t sure if Van understood how much it meant to me. To have a man look at me and still want to sleep with me when I was like this, but it meant everything.

And now, here he was, thinking of me, of my comfort, without making it awkward or strange. It made my heart melt.

As he gently spread the lube on his fingers, he looked down at me, his eyes full of quiet reassurance. “If anything feels off, you tell me, okay?”

I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. “Okay.”

Van kissed me again, slow and sweet, his hand moving carefully between us. His touch was soft, patient, and as he moved closer, I could feel the difference already. There was no rush, no pressure, just him taking his time, making sure I felt good.

I shivered as he slid his fingers over my clit, teasing it in circles. His touch was so gentle alongside the coldness of the lub, but it felt good. He knew just how much pressure I liked. He always did.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he said, his words coming out on a hiss of breath as my hips instinctively rocked into him.

I nodded, my breath catching as he slid a finger into me.

“You’re not,” I whispered.

His touch was light as he worked his finger inside me, making sure I was comfortable before he slowly started to pump in and out.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur against my ear. “We’ll take it slow.”

His eyes staying on mine as he worked me. “How’s that?”

“Good,” I answered, my voice already breathy. His finger slipped out, and then there were two, stretching me more than before. “Mmm, that’s nice.”

“Like that?” He grinned, his other hand moving back to my clit as he fingered me.

“Yes,” I sighed, my head falling back. “More.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “So demanding.” He leaned down, his mouth closing around my clit as his fingers curled inside me. I cried out at the sensation, feeling myself clench against him.

Van groaned, his mouth moving over me as his fingers continued to work. I gasped again, the dual sensations overwhelming me. His tongue was hot against my clit, the pressure sending sparks of pleasure through me.

And his fingers—I felt so full from the three he was now using, the stretch sending a different type of pleasure through my body.

“Van!” I cried out, my fingers clutching his hair as I pressed him against me.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to taste you again,” he said against my skin. “Fucking torture not being inside you.”

My pussy clenched harder at the words, and I pushed his head down, encouraging him to keep going.

He moaned against my clit, his tongue licking quicker as his fingers picked up their rhythm. I could hear the wet sounds of his fingers fucking me, could feel myself getting closer. And then he was pressing against my G-spot, and I was tipping over the edge again.

“Fuck!” I screamed, my pussy clamping down around him as I climaxed. “Van!”

His mouth never left me, his tongue keeping its pace as I rode my orgasm. It wasn’t until I was coming down that he let go, his lips releasing my clit as he lifted his head. He smiled, his eyes bright as he watched me. “Good?” he asked again.

I nodded, already feeling my arousal build again. I reached for him, pulling his mouth to mine and licking his lips. He groaned at the taste of me on him, his hands moving to my waist.

“Condom,” I reminded, as I felt him adjusting between my legs.

He leaned back, a flush spreading over his cheeks as he reached into his bag again. He ripped open the condom package, his hands fumbling to roll it onto himself. I watched him, feeling my pussy clench at the sight of him stroking himself.

He slipped the head of his cock into me and then reached back for the lube. There was a small noise, and I watched as he squirted it onto his cock.

He started to press inside, and I held my breath as the pain burned through me. I gasped, feeling him trying to enter me, tensing at the sudden intrusion, the stretch almost too much.

Van sensed it though, stopping immediately.

“Too much?”

“No,” I replied. “Please just...”

“You have to tell me, El” he reminded me, his breath hot on my lips. “I won’t move unless you tell me it’s okay.”

I bit my lip, looking down where his cock stretched my entrance. I could see how much was left to go, how big he was in comparison to me. It seemed too big, too much.

“Hey.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “We don’t have to keep going.” He started to pull back, but I reached up, my hand sliding over his cheek and into his hair.

“No. Keep going” I said, pulling him back down to me.

Van hesitated, his eyes searching mine. “Ella, I don’t want—”

“I said it’s okay,” I interrupted him, my other hand sliding down his back. “Please,” I pressed.

He kissed me softly, his lips barely moving against mine. “Say stop if you change your mind,” he said, his voice strained.

I nodded, feeling the anticipation build again in my core. He pressed forward again, and this time I relaxed, letting him push deeper inside me. The pain was still there, but it was bearable now, the stretch no longer so overwhelming that it hurt. “I’ll wait a bit.”

It didn’t take long for me to start feeling better. My pussy felt warm and relaxed, and my nerves started to tingle from being filled with him.

But instead of fucking me, he paused for a moment, letting us both feel the stretch of it. “Fuck, I missed this” he rasped. “Every time with you is like the first.”

“I’m going to start moving now, okay?” he murmured against my skin.

“Yes.”

He set a gentle pace at first, and my eyes fluttered shut. I loved this feeling, the stretch of his cock, the feel of his weight on me. His chest rubbed against mine, causing my nipples to harden.

I gasped at the feel of him inside me, my inner walls tightening as I tried to pull him in deeper.

My hands found his ass, and I pulled him in further. “Fuck,” he grunted, holding himself still for a moment.

The pain of him filling me was still there, but it was nothing like the pain of not being with him.

“Easy, baby” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Go slow.”

His pace was agonizingly gentle, each movement so controlled it seemed like he was savoring every inch of my heat. He thrust forward, then slowly pulled back, letting me feel every delicious inch as he stretched me open.

The feeling of him stretching my walls was almost too much. I was already oversensitive from the first orgasm and the stretch was sending me over the edge again. I started to shudder, my muscles trembling as the pleasure took over.

It was like he could sense that I needed him to move faster. His thrusts picked up immediately, filling me completely with every pump. He felt so good that I could barely breathe, moaning loudly into the room.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice ragged with desire as he felt my body weaken.

“It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt,” I said. “Please don’t stop.”

He leaned down to kiss me, and I met him halfway. The connection was a rush of emotion, our bodies drawing closer until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

We both moved at the same time, his cock slipping out, then back in. The pace was slow, delicious, but my hips already rose to meet him, greedy for more. Van’s eyes searched mine, his lips parting as he watched me.

I heard the sound of our skin slapping together, the mattress shaking beneath us. He moved one hand between us, circling my clit with his fingers until I was screaming. He was right. He truly was going to make me feel good. Amazingly good.

I opened my eyes to find that he was staring at me, a soft look in his eye. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but he couldn’t quite put it into words. It made my heart skip a beat.

His hands gripped my hips, and I gasped as pleasure swamped me. The pain was still there, but now I was distracted from it.

My fingers curled in his hair, holding him as his body rocked into mine. His teeth sank into my shoulder as he let out a moan, his orgasm hitting him.

I trembled with him as we both worked through our releases, my body quivering in his arms as he filled me until I couldn’t take anymore.

The sex had been gentle, and I loved that for us. It reminded me that we didn’t have to be wild all the time to enjoy it.

I let out a shaky sigh. “Van…I don’t I think have the energy for round two today” I whispered knowing that as soon as he came down from his climax, he would want to be inside me again.

He laughed softly, dropping down to press his lips against mine. “You never need to worry about that,” he murmured.

“Huh?” I asked, my mind already feeling hazy.

“I don’t need it.” He smiled against my skin. “I get enough of you just in the touching, just in being with you.” His voice softened. “But you’re beautiful when you come, so don’t worry if you change your mind.”

I let myself melt into his words, into his touch, feeling his love surround me even in the quiet of the moment. I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, sighing happily.

He held me like that for a while, slowly coming down from his orgasm. Our bodies still joined.

“I can't move,” he groaned “you have broken me.” He laughed, “But fuck, I am so happy about it.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his words. “This is how it will be every time, you know that, right?”

“Yes.” He kissed the top of my head “And I fucking love it.”

When he finally did pull out of me, his cock was still half hard. The sight of it leaking his cum on my stomach was the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

Van had the same reaction, looking at me like I was the only woman in the world.

He reached for the towel next to the bed and cleaned us up, then pulled me to him once again, holding me in his arms.

When he came down from his high, Van rolled over to my side, his face soft and sweaty as he looked over at me. “How did you feel tonight?”

“Better,” I breathed, still trying to catch my breath. “Really good.”

He smiled. “Did it feel any different with the lube?”

“Yeah, it did,” I said. “It helped.”

After a few seconds of silence, I finally got the courage to speak.

“Thank you for tonight” I murmured, my voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry for pushing you away… I was just afraid.”

“Afraid?What were you afraid of?” he asked softly, his eyes searching mine.

I hesitated, my voice barely a whisper. “Of you leaving.” I swallowed, feeling the weight of the words. “Finding someone else, someone who could make… sex easy.”

Van’s face softened as he processed what I’d said, and his hand gently cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped free. “Ella, it’s not just about that for me. It never has been.”

I looked down, embarrassed. “But I know it’s not easy with me. I’m not… normal.”

He shook his head, lifting my chin so I’d meet his gaze. “You are more than enough. I’m with you because I care about you, not because of how easy or hard things are. You’re worth it. Every single part of you is worth it.”

I nodded, my chest tightening with emotion. “It’s just… you’re always so patient, so understanding, and I didn’t know how to handle that. I didn’t want to mess things up.”

Van gently pulled me closer, his hand resting at the small of my back. “You’re not messing anything up,” he said softly, his words wrapping around me like a blanket. “We take this at your pace, okay? Whatever that looks like.”

I exhaled, feeling a bit of the weight lift. “Okay.”

He stroked my hair back from my face. “We’ll keep trying, El.” he said. “There’s plenty of other things we can do. I won’t give up on this.”

I nodded, snuggling into his arms, wanting to hold back the tears that were about to fall. “I know.”

“We’re in this together. If you need a little extra help to enjoy it, that’s fine. We can adjust. We can do this.”

Van was right.

There were always new ways to try things, new ways to have fun.

And we were definitely going to try them all.

For the first time in what felt like forever, sex actually started feeling good for me again and I couldn’t wait to finally explore it with him in a way that seemed not so scary.

Because the one thing that scared me even more than the pain and discomfort was losing Van.

I never wanted to let him go. I never wanted to live a day without the love and affection he showed me. I never wanted anything less than what we had together.

I knew deep down that it was a feeling he shared.

And with that, I wrapped myself a little tighter in his arms and let the soft rhythm of his breath be my guide back to sleep. There would be days of pain, yes, but there would also be moments like this.

“Thank you,” I murmured against his lips. “You’re my favorite thing in the whole world.”

His smile was soft as he leaned in to kiss me again. “You’re mine too.”

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

valentine

pairing: steve harrington x reader

WC: 1.9K

warnings: cursing, some suggestive stuff, a little nightmare sequence that involves punching and blood mentions. should be it!

summary: you blinked and suddenly, you had a valentine. ❤️

A/N: a late v-day post, i guess. inspired by the lovely Laufey song. much love to @alecmores for proofreading 💗💗💗

it cut off some of the ending when read on mobile 😒 but it’s looking completely fine on computer. just an fyi

masterlist

I’ve rejected affection for years and years. Now I have it and damn it, it’s kind of weird.

Out of your twenty-one years of living on this planet, this is the first year you have a relationship and it’s simultaneously the greatest feeling in the world while also making you want to run away. But you can’t find it in yourself to run, not from him.

Steve. Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. 

You feel like you need to pinch yourself every time he looks your way and throws a smile meant for you, or feel the furnace heat of his fingers grasping your hips before pulling you into a kiss, sweet or searing.

He tells me I’m pretty.

The two of you are just laying in his bed on a lazy saturday morning, with no hurry to be anywhere, facing each other as you practically share his pillow causing your noses to bump with a simple shift. The blanket covers both of you from the waist down, your top half open to the slight chill dancing through the room.

Steve's shirtless and you're wearing an oversized shirt you found at a garage sale, one that goes to rest at the top of your thighs, but right now it’s bunched up high, allowing Steve to toy with the elastic of your underwear and drag his knuckles over your exposed waist. Legs tangled together, your cold feet pushing into Steve’s calf causing a gasp of shock from the boy which pulled a heartfelt giggle from your lips.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” A hand instantly moves to tuck loose strands behind your ear.

You don’t say anything, you can’t. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Soft eyes that twinkle, an easy smile that displays his stunning smile lines, his freckles, and moles that mark his face and body that you smother with thousands of kisses when given the opportunity. How his bed head of hair is curled and twisted this way and that, the ends tucking and touching his ear lobe and neck or even his jaw.

You don’t know how to respond to the sudden compliment, you haven’t received much in your years. So as you memorize him, you instantly say the words back to him, in your own way, of course.

“You’re quite pretty yourself, Steve Harrington. Very nice on the eyes.” A finger trailed his nose and down to his jaw.

A deep rumble from his chest filled you with a warmth that pushed away the February chill. You weren’t sure if you should’ve called him that. Most guys don’t like the word "pretty" being used when complimenting them, most like strong or handsome, pretty to them seems weak when it isn’t towards a girl. But when you looked at Steve he was all those to you, but pretty will be the one to always come to mind when you look at him, especially in moments like these. Intimate and away from prying eyes.

With every passing moment, I surprise myself.

You’re usually scared of guys, whether it be in a general sense or a relationship kinda sense. You’ve been on dates, didn’t like the guy and stopped talking with him or you liked him and went on a few dates but those ended up fizzling out as well.

But Steve Harrington made you feel scared, but the good kind of scared. The roller coaster adrenaline scare, where you’re whooping and hollering at the top of your lungs. Clinging to the metal bars for dear life worried you’ll fly away, but they're holding you securely in their grasp.

Steve constantly made you smile and laugh, scream out of slight fear or extreme pleasure. He held you in firm hugs, his chin digging into your scalp as he slowly swayed your bodies. He made you feel safe and loved.

Loved. You’ve fallen in love with him after just a year. Now you were scared.

What if he’s the last one I kiss? What if he’s the only one I’ll ever miss? Maybe I should run, I’m only twenty-one.

You began to panic. There was no real reason to panic, but you're an overthinker, constantly making useless scenarios in your fast-paced mind, thinking the worst of peaceful times. It’s a terrible flaw, but one you can’t push away no matter how much you try.

‘What if he gets bored of me? What if he thinks I’m clingy? What would he do if I told him I love him?’

Evil thoughts that would creep up in the time of silence.

You stared at nothing while you sat behind the counter at Family Video, body unconsciously swiveling the rolling chair from side to side. Steve and Robin are out on the floor putting away new releases and returning stock, their friendly banter becoming white noise to your ears as more corruptive thoughts came to mind and cramp every single space in your brain.

Your fingers pick at your nail beds, you don’t even feel the pricks of pain or feel the little trickles of blood pooling to the top. Only when you feel someone else’s hands pulling yours apart into their hold do you snap from your trance.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Steve's melodic voice rings in your ears.

“Huh?” Not too sure what he means.

His eyes are focused on your hands, pulling each finger in his eye line and then bringing a kiss to each nail. It made you flush at the sudden display of affection.

“I was calling for you,” another kiss, “and you didn’t answer so I came here,” kiss, “and your eyes were just wide and you were picking at your nails. I thought you stopped that.”

‘Great now you disappointed him’ ‘Probably thinks you’re a liar’

You bit your bottom lip, “got lost in my thoughts. That’s all.” A shrug of your shoulders.

He still held your hands, fingers laced together and his thumb ran atop your knuckles. He was warm and comfortable, it pushed the negative thoughts away just a bit.

Then he crouched down, hands placed on your knees and head tilted to look up at you with your small bit of height. His head tilted and swayed, trying to find your eyes that you wanted to hide away from him, he could always find what was wrong in the end.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, “I’m not gonna make you tell me what’s wrong, or I won’t act like a mind reader, cause I’m not-“ “Beg to differ on certain days.” You interrupted.

He breathed a laugh, “if you believe so. But I just want you to know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, especially if it’s about me. Cause I don’t want you to think the wrong thing.” He squeezed your knees.

You looked at Steve, held his eye contact, and said, “I really like you, Steve Harrington.” The closest thing to I love you right now.

He smiled wide, “I really like you too, sweetheart.”

I’ve lost all control of my heartbeat now.

He said the words. He said the words.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

It felt like all the air left your lungs and now you probably looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing. Trying to process everything that just happened while also trying to find the words for a proper response.

“(Y/n)? You okay?” He has a firm hold on your biceps.

Your own hands are also holding his biceps, eyes dancing across his face. You wanted to memorize this moment, the way he looked in the overhead lighting of the grocery store where you were buying snacks for a night in.

He just had to say the words that rocked your heart in the freaking grocery store!

“Sweetheart, say something, please. You’re scaring me a bit,” a chuckle but you knew he was concerned.

“Uh,” you blinked a few times, “really caught me off guard with that.”

The both of you chuckled, you from the absurdity of the moment and Steve from your comment. But it felt so perfect, a special moment to remember for the future.

When I hear I love you, now I’ve got someone to lose.

You tried fighting back, you desperately tried with all the strength you could muster into your bones. You yanked hard against the metal cuffs, the skin on your wrist starting to sting from the breakage. You tried kicking with your legs, but it was no use, you weren’t close enough to hit anything or anyone.

You could only stare and scream as you thrash. Watching helplessly as the soldier beats Steve down with his knuckles. How his skin breaks and bleeds, the loud cracks of his nose breaking causing blood to spill from his nostrils.

“Stop! Stop! Please! We’re telling the truth!” You tried to plead with them.

They just laughed and continued the harassment. Steve always being the hero, making sure they don’t lay a finger on you, causing him to be the center of their attention and attacks.

When the soldier got tired from throwing punches, he gripped Steve’s neck tight. You could slowly see the blood leaving his face, the air not making its way to his brain. His feet scrambled against the floor to find some purchase.

In what seemed to be his final moments, he looks at you.

“Steve!” You cried as you blotted upward from the bed.

Your chest heaved with heavy breaths and sweat formed at your temple while your back and chest were sticky with perspiration. A hand touched your chest to feel your heart as you pushed sticky strands from your face.

‘Just a nightmare’ ‘It was just a terrible nightmare’

“(Y/n)?” A scratchy voice was heard through the darkness of the bedroom.

“Steve, sorry.”

You felt him sit up, his hand rubbing circles to your back along your sleep shirt. He laid his head on your shoulder and placed his free appendage on your thigh.

“Was it a nightmare? Cause usually if it's dreams, there’s a different way we go about things.” He tried for a laugh and you gave him one. “There we go,” he sighed.

“Can you just hold me?” You whispered. An unspoken ‘I love you’

“Always, sweetheart.” ‘I love you too’

The first one to ever like me back. I’m seconds away from a heart attack.

“You know you are my first boyfriend, like ever.” You randomly blurt one day in Steve’s kitchen.

“No way, I find that hard to believe.” He called over his shoulder as he worked on breakfast.

“Oh!” You hop onto his counters, “and what makes you think that? Do enlighten me.”

He didn’t say anything quickly, so just as you were about to say something, he spoke up, “because you’re… you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.”

He said the words so easily like they were the most obvious answer to your question. He was trying to give you a heart attack with how sugary sweet he is.

“Like I can’t believe I get to call you mine. Every day I wake up and remember I’m dating you and it makes my day one hundred percent better already. And knowing I get to call you or see you throughout the day, it keeps me from going insane during the boring or terrible moments.”

You were speechless. Steve caused every word and thought to leave your mouth and brain, all you could say was, “I love you.”

I blinked and suddenly, I had a valentine.

[sociopathicartist]

heyy!! i was wondering if you could do a (romantic) one shot with classic sans? just a fluff one shot, something cute

hey! sorry it took a bit to get to this, been busy redoing my room. i should be back to uploading normally :3 ty for requesting!

You tapped your foot on the floor, a distraction for your mind while you glared at your TV.

The power was cutting off and on, just to your luck, and unfortunately, your TV went with it. While it wasn't a big deal since you mostly watched TV in your bedroom and not the living room, you were frustrated with your lack of skill to fix it.

There were plenty of things in your house you’d fixed. You had fixed the refrigerator with the assistance of several YouTube videos whenever it stopped working for some miscellaneous reason, you fixed your couch whenever one of the legs broke, you weren’t incompetent by any means.

All of that was making it more frustrating that you still could not fix your TV.

It wasn’t necessarily easy to just take a break either and come back to it later. Since the power was cutting on and off from the whipping snowstorm outside, you couldn’t charge your phone or laptop to watch movies or play games, and the lights kept flickering which did not help your mood.

You groaned in annoyance, running one of your hands over your face before you flopped down onto your couch, continuing your staring contest with your TV. It wasn’t like this was the first time your power went out, it happened all the time due to where you lived, but it was always so damn annoying whenever something stopped working because of it.

Crackling static echoed throughout your living room, a noise you had become very used to. You knew who that was.

“heyy, babe. you on the couch?” Sans called out for you, his lazy and loving tone already calming your anger down a bit.

He shuffled over to you, putting both his hands on top of your head as he leaned over the back of the couch to greet you. “there you are. did your phone die?”

You looked up to him since he had his face hovering above yours, and Sans moved his hands down to your shoulders so that you could see him properly. “Yeah, it wasn’t able to charge right with the power cutting on and off.”

It was good that he showed up, you needed a nice distraction right now, and who better than your boyfriend?

“i figured.” Sans vanished into thin air before the couch sunk down a bit and he was right next to you, stretching his arms out to get a bit more comfortable. “paps isn’t home tonight, he’s out with the microwave, so i thought i’d come over to you.”

Ah. Figures Papyrus was out with Mettaton, he’s been pretty busy with him as of late.

You kept your hands in your lap, your mood still a bit deflated from your TV not working. “Are you gonna stay the night?”

“mhm.” He snuck an arm around your waist, leaning into your side to enjoy the embrace he never got tired of. “s’ storming outside, someone’s gotta keep you safe just in case the snow comes in and whisks you away.”

Sans never failed to find humor or make a joke in any situation.

“Yeah…” You mumbled, looking down at him.

Sans stared at you, his pinpricks big and wide from the typical infatuated look he always gave you any time you two were together, which was most days. “what’s wrong, babe?”

Damn. He could always read you like a book. It was a curse and a blessing.

“I can’t fix my TV.” You huffed, looking away from him and back to the TV. “I’ve tried almost everything, I can’t find out what’s wrong with it.”

Sans hummed to let you know he heard you, starting to trace little circles onto your t-shirt where his hand rested. “mmmaybe it’s because the power is off?”

Well, the power was off right now, but whenever it was flickering on and off earlier the TV should have at least turned on when your power was still lingering. Right now just some melee candles and battery-powered lamps were your source of sight.

“No. It wasn’t turning on whenever the power was cutting on and off just a few minutes ago.” You corrected him, shutting down his words on what was wrong with your TV.

“huh. let me look at it real quick, baby.” Sans bumped his teeth to give you a small kiss on your arm before he slid off the couch, taking slow steps over to your TV stand.

You stood up, sighing and following after him. “You don’t have to-“

“shhh, let me work.” He waved a hand at you to brush you off, crouching down and opening up the cabinets on your TV stand so that he could see all the wires.

Sans was a lot better with technology, you couldn’t deny that. He was always wicked smart with any sort of math or science due to his lab work several several years ago, and the occasional times he’ll help Alphys now whenever he’s free. The upkeep of his skills made him incredibly smart with technology too, he was always your first call to make when something was wrong with your laptop or car.

A little hum came out from the TV stand, and your boyfriend popped his head back out to stand up straight and look up at you. “it’s fried, probably from the storm. we can go out to get stuff to fix it whenever the weather passes.”

You frowned, upset with your failure to fix the TV. Why couldn’t you do something so simple whenever you could do so many other complicated things?

Sans was quick to read your frustration like he always was. His hands came to gently rest on your hips, and he brought himself closer to you.

“it’s no big deal, babe. there isn’t anything you or i can do about it right now. you know you’re smart.” He tried his best to assure you with his words, something he had to practice on whenever he started dating you.

You looked down at him, trying to get the TV out of your mind. He was right, it wasn’t a big deal. You were getting worked up over nothing.

The acknowledgment still didn’t make you feel all that better.

“c’mere, let’s go lay down in bed. you need the rest, babe.” Sans was trying his best to get you to relax with yourself, and what better way than to lay down and cuddle?

You took a few seconds to answer him, nodding your head and moving your hands to rest on his shoulders, feeling the soft fabric of his signature blue jacket. “Okay… Yeah, that sounds nice.”

With your hands on him, and his on you, you both disappeared for a bit into nothingness before coming back into your bedroom, standing next to your nightstand. Well, it appears he was not in the mood to walk all the way to your bedroom.

He took his hands off you and gently pushed you by the small of your back, nudging you to lay down in bed before he climbed under the covers to lay next to you, double-checking that you were all snug and warm.

“You’re weirdly comfortable considering that you’re a skeleton.” You remarked, wrapping your arms around him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“that’s the first time i’ve ever heard that.” Sans chuckled, his hands wandering under your shirt to rub the soft skin of your back. “thanks, babe.”

It was almost like you melted into him the longer that you were wrapped up with him, and your previous frustration was melting away by the second. “Yeah… I love you.”

Sans wasn’t ever sure if he could get used to you telling him that, it had become his favorite thing to hear you say. “i love you too.”