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

[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

[aisiedaisie]

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა Hellooooo! My knees are lowkey quaking sending this req in considering its my first time ever but would thou be willing to write a poly!marauders x reader who is kinda like glinda from wicked? shes very bubbly, cutesy, a little bit air-headed but shes got good intentions and is OBSESSED OBSESSED with pink

no pressure though :) thank youuu ♡

Hello hello~!!!

Thank you so much for asking my dear! I am so sorry for taking so long to write this, I’ve been so busy with school. Now onto your request… I have, unfortunately, never seen Wicked so the characterization might not be the best but I hope I did your idea justice at the very least!

edit: If this isn't what you visioned let me know and I'll try again!!! ♡

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Reader WC: 1.3k

The morning air bit at your cheeks, sharp and unforgiving, as though winter itself had woken on the wrong side of the bed. A delicate dusting of snow still clung stubbornly to the pavement, its crystalline sheen interrupted by streaks of white running through the roads. Every breath hung visibly in the air, curling away like fleeting whispers, a reminder that, yes, it was absolutely freezing.

Still, you and the boys had ventured out into the icy embrace of the day, determined to check a few errands off your list. If everything went smoothly— and time was kind —perhaps a movie would sneak its way into the itinerary. That said, the clock was ticking. Remus had an appointment with his chiropractor later in the afternoon, leaving little room for dawdling.

This time of year had always held a special kind of magic for you. The looming promise of the holidays seemed to imbue the air with a tangible warmth, even as the weather remained frosty. Everywhere you looked, there were signs of joy: twinkling lights, wreaths on doors, the hum of cheerful holiday tunes spilling from shop speakers. Your heart felt lighter, your steps quicker — something Sirius was quick to notice.

"Aren’t you a joy this morning," he remarked dryly, his voice tinged with a sleepy amusement. His silver eyes tracked the skip in your step as you bounded ahead, radiating delight. While he was undoubtedly pleased to be with you all, his enthusiasm was dampened by the biting chill and the indignity of being awake so early. His only solace came in the form of the warm paper cup nestled in his gloved hands, filled with an indulgent sugar cookie latte that promised a sweet distraction.

Remus, walking slightly behind, shot Sirius a sideways look, bumping his hip in playful admonishment. He lengthened his stride to catch up with you, his long legs easily matching your pace.

“It’s the holidays,” James chimed in from behind, his tone carrying a fond warmth as he took a sip from his significantly less sweet coffee. “You know how she gets this time of year, Pads.”

Remus chuckled softly, slipping his hand into yours as they all trailed into the grocery store. A wave of warmth wrapped around you like a cozy blanket as the automatic doors slid open, the chill left behind in favor of the comforting hum of indoor heaters and the faint, tantalizing aroma of baked goods somewhere in the distance.

“So, what’s the plan, dove?” Remus asked, his voice low and gentle as he looked down at you.

You beamed up at him, your eyes alight with excitement. “Gingerbread! I want to make gingerbread houses,” you declared. “But we’re out of cloves. Oh, and I was hoping to find some pink candies for decorating— if they have them,” you added, your voice softening with a hint of doubt.

It was no secret that pink candies were elusive this time of year, overshadowed by the dominating reds and greens of the season. Though festive and lovely, they weren’t quite what you had in mind.

Sirius arched a brow, his lips quirking into a faintly crooked smile. “Why not just make them pink?”

You turned to him, tilting your head in curiosity. “Make them pink?”

“Yeah,” he drawled, his tone laced with the sort of lazy confidence only Sirius could pull off. “There’s gotta be a way to make ‘em pink, doll.”

His smile, faintly lopsided and utterly disarming, made warmth bloom in your chest despite the lingering cold in your fingers.

James, ever the problem solver, had already begun to drift through the aisles, scanning for a solution. Meanwhile, Remus fetched a basket with the efficiency of a man well-versed in grocery runs, returning just in time to catch you gathering flour, cinnamon, and nutmeg from the shelves.

“Powdered sugar, right, doll?” Sirius asked, holding up a box as if he’d just unearthed buried treasure.

You grinned, nodding appreciatively. But then your eyes landed on a pack of white chocolate chips, sparking an idea. “I mean... I could make it pink with food colori—”

“They’ve got Valentines candy in the back,” James interrupted, his voice triumphant as he reappeared, his hands planted firmly on his hips. He stood beaming like he’d solved a riddle no one else could crack.

“Really?!” you squealed, your face lighting up with glee.

James grinned even wider, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “Yep. I’ll grab them for you.”

And just like that, your holiday vision began to take shape, piece by piece. Soon, a pink gingerbread house— complete with frosted edges and delicate decorations— would join the charming little pink tree that had claimed its spot on the living room table.

 The thought filled you with a bubbling excitement, your mind already spinning with ideas of how to make your cozy holiday corner even more magical.

It wasn’t just the decorations that made it special, though; it was the way the boys indulged your whims, no matter how outlandish they seemed.

You could already picture Sirius, half-heartedly pretending to grumble as frosting stuck to his fingers, and James concentrating far too hard on piping perfect windows while sneakily eating candies when he thought no one was looking. Remus would undoubtedly take charge of assembling the house itself, his patient hands steady as he held the walls together, teasing you all for your lack of structural integrity.

“Dove?” Remus’s voice broke through your thoughts, grounding you back in the warmth of the grocery store. His amber eyes crinkled with affection as he tilted his head. “You’re smiling like you’ve just won the lottery.”

“Maybe she has,” Sirius quipped, picking up a box of candy canes and twirling one in his fingers. “After all, we found her pink candies. What more could she ask for?”

You laughed softly, stepping closer to him and plucking the candy cane from his hand with a playful grin. “Oh, don’t tempt me. I could think of plenty more.”

“Careful, Pads,” James teased, rejoining the group with his arms full of your prized pink candy melts. “You’ll end up promising her a pink Christmas tree for the kitchen next.”

“Oh, don’t give her ideas,” Sirius groaned, but his dramatic tone couldn’t mask the twinkle in his eyes.

“You’re all terrible,” you said, though the fondness in your voice betrayed you. Your arms brushed Remus’s as you added the last few ingredients to the basket, imagining the laughter and chaos that would follow once you all returned home.

Outside, snowflakes began to drift lazily from the overcast sky, blanketing the world in a soft white glow. It felt like a scene from one of those holiday movies you loved, and you couldn’t help but squeeze Remus’s hand in anticipation.

“Let’s make it quick,” he said gently, though the soft curve of his smile made it clear he wasn’t in any rush. “I think someone’s eager to get started.”

“I guess the movie theater has been pushed off the priority list,” James joked as he followed close behind, balancing bags of groceries in both hands.

“Next time, Jamie~” you sang over your shoulder, your voice light and teasing as you swung yours and Remus’s joined hands in time with the familiar Christmas tune floating from the store’s speakers. The melody seemed to follow you into the frosty morning, adding a cheerful soundtrack to your little procession.

Sirius snorted, his laughter a warm, rich sound that carried over the crisp air. “You’re such a menace when you’re in holiday mode, doll,” he teased, though his grin betrayed his fondness.

James shook his head with a mock exasperation, his lips twitching into a smile as he glanced at the lot of you. “You’re lucky we love you,” he muttered, though his tone was filled with amusement.

The four of you walked down the snowy street together, your breath hanging in the air and your steps crunching against the thin layer of powder beneath your dark pink boots.

Between Sirius’s sarcastic commentary, Remus’s steady warmth at your side, and James’s easy laughter, you could already feel the festive chaos brewing.

It was perfect.

[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

[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?”

[werewolfoffeverswamp]

tbh i dont know if i’ve ever made a single piece of art i actually like in an academic setting. they’re always haphazardly done last minute and the subject matter is always so. hm. it’s a little boring. the only times i think i’ve come close to making something i was proud of in school is when i was pushed to my mental breaking point and i just started fucking doing whatever i wanted. so today i’m rating them

in my sophomore year i was in sculpture class and had to make a smooth plaster sculpture. the amount of manual labor required to sand down a sculpture that had to be at least 3 feet in some direction is not something i wanted to deal with. as you can see my sculpture is not smooth. the design i was happy with— the sculpture itself i was not.

it was titled “Mistakes” or something along those lines. my classmates stood up for me in critique when my professor said it was lazy and unfinished. not one of my peers said a bad thing about it. we smashed the sculptures apart behind the building when critique was over. i still want to cry when i think about it, it was an extremely special experience for me.

10/10 i actually wish i still had it and i have been meaning to make a tiny version out of clay. such a special piece to me, very formative

this piece was made at the end of my college career when i first started testosterone. i wanted to make some sort of tribute to it for my final piece— i’m of an extremely divided mind when i think about it. there are parts that look clunky and not developed properly… thrown together, as i believe my professor Jason said. i am, however, happy with certain technical aspects of the piece! the formation and shading of the hand and the syringe is something i really like, and did a lot of layering to achieve. i used a paper cutout to make the repeated syringes on the bottom left, another new technique i tried and was happy with the results of.

the text WAS thrown on last minute in an effort to spice up the piece but it’s a reference to the song Crosseyed and Painless by Talking Heads. it’s a song i’ve always identified with in a gender way, with the first few lines being “Lost my shape, trying to act casual./Can’t stop, I might end up in the hospital.” i felt on the verge of collapse constantly in the early days of my transition. it was like i had lost my shape and was destined to end up hurt in some way. i wish the text was more well thought out, it could have been done in a more uniform way and i think it would have looked a little better.

the wasp head is also a reference to an old oc of mine, who was a man with a wasp head named Gene. i wish i would have used different colors, the black and yellow i used should have been warmer. mars black instead of ivory. whatever again it’s technical stuff.

6.5/10 i could technically go back and fix this one bc i still have it, but i have better things to do rn.

the hand dino came into the world in a fiery manner. for the final project we had to make a piece with the dimensions of minimum like 4ft by 4ft, and by this point i was burnt out and the most exhausted with art i’d ever been (besides maybe sophomore year ig 🤔) and i told my professor i couldn’t do a project that big. he made the mistake of telling me to do what i could manage, which ended up being a roughly 12in by 12in piece of oil painting paper.

in many ways i like the concept of this piece. the idea of it. it’s fun! it’s combining realistic elements with cartoonish ones in a way i enjoy.

however. looking back, i genuinely think it would have been a cooler concept on a bigger scale 😭 which is so frustrating.

7.5/10 i wish i’d had it in me to do it better.

and how could we forget dear body horror babe? made in my first semester of sophomore year and done with ink and charcoal and conte crayons, it was an assignment one of my more eccentric teachers wanted us to do where we randomly splattered ink on a paper using ink-covered coins and tried to come up with a drawing just from the happenstance of where the ink coins landed.

i chose a more abstract route and basically turned every ink splat into an eye and tried to come up with somewhat distorted body imagery to evenly fill all the space on the paper. you can find a lot of stuff going on in this piece.

11/10 but also not done at my lowest point, just during the steady decline.

ok can i be frank for a second. i fucking hate this piece. so what you’re seeing is an 8ft by 4ft thin block of particle board, carved by hand in low relief to ink and print on old bedsheets.

my professor for this relief class was strict about the theme of the class, which was political art. she insisted we make art relating to a political topic and our beliefs on it. and this isn’t to say political art is bad in any way, but it’s truly not something i want to FOCUS on creating necessarily. the fact that it was MANDATORY is the issue here. one of my classmates refused to make purposely political art and instead chose to make a beautiful piece of the sun and moon as lovers. i wish i had just done the same and refused to make strictly political art. if i’m honest i just wanted to make an epic wood carving scene of a dark and eerie night outside draculas castle. instead, as you can see, i chose (somewhat arbitrarily in an effort to make the project into something i could enjoy carving) environmentalism.

technically i don’t mind this piece. the composition is fine and the detail in some areas i’m very proud of. other areas not as much. my teacher also forced me to do what i think is over-carve some areas to fill the piece with texture. i do not like it and i wish i had kept some areas fully un-carved, even if it didnt print right. i don’t care.

also what’s worse about the whole experience of this piece is that it was part of an event called Blocktoberfest and my school partnered with a local state college to make and print these huge blocks on their campus. the reason this is bad is bc the state college students did whatever the hell they wanted for their designs and we saw some really cool subject matters, from aliens to occult symbolism. and their school’s art department had a couch in it and ours didn’t. :/

also blocktoberfest was an insane amount of physical work bc rolling those big ass rollers in ink and then a giant block and then ink and then the block and ink and block was a lot of effort. i was sore after it. and it lowkey felt like me and my classmates were doing all the work and like maybe 5 people from the other school were helping. whatever. whatever anyways

1/10 genuinely pisses me off to look at. wish i would have just done draculas castle

^i also think it’s worth mentioning about this professor: no one really liked her. she made it very clear that she thought there was a right and wrong way to create art. and she fully believed she was right about everything bc she was old and wise. and she was also gay so maybe she had some credit. but her art to me always felt a little uppity and she was also really rich. she let us visit her studio and we did our final critique there of a piece i made that i absolutely hated everything about. i dont even have a picture of it bc it pissed me off so bad. she also was lowkey racist towards a few of my classmates so i really don’t like her.

anyways that’s all the pieces i want to review currently. let me know what you guys think about em if you want. i hereby ask for you to critique my art.

the difference between making art for a deadline vs making art purely bc you enjoy the process and outcome is so crazy. it actually makes me sick with sadness. i don’t have the resources to create freely yet. anyways art under the constraint of academia is so frustrating for me specifically. like whatever. whatever

[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

[sweetcocopowder]

"I've missed your touch" Haytham x Reader? 👉👈

Prompt 3 | Haytham Kenway x Male Reader

Synopsis: You've been away for far too long and you come back realizing that Haytham wants you more than you realize.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Le smut. Blowjob. Hand job. Slight manhandling. Marking.

Notes: Thank you for the request!! I hope you don't mind that i chose to go with a male reader, was just easier to write with. Please enjoy!!

Thomas Hickey’s bark of a laugh makes you visibly wince. Even though you try your best not to, the sound is horrific. It’s more on the lines of a hack with mucus stuck in the back of his throat than anything else and you find it revolting. You can’t help it but your lip curls up ever so slightly as your eyes drift over to him. He swings back on his chair before coming back with the legs coming down with a loud clash. It’s as if the Green Dragon goes silent for a moment before the choir of voices arise up again.

Hickey points at you with a finger while still holding his ale in hand, “You got chased by dogs!?” He shouts out a little too loudly.

“Singular,” you correct. “It was one dog.”

“Mate,” Hickey grins wickedly, “I don’t think that makes it any better.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but catch the Grandmaster’s dark blue gaze appointed to you. He has his hands clasped together in front of his mouth and his tricorn sits low over his face. But you can still see his gaze fixed upon you.

Lazy like, he looks away and gestures a hand out to Hickey, “And what have you done in the month while my tracker has been on his trek these past six months?”

That cuts Hickey short. He’s the only one at this table with you and Haytham and you don’t understand why? Well, you do to some degree. He’s here for the women and the ale fifty percent of the time. The other fifty? You have no clue what he does for Haytham’s cause or how he keeps his worth but he obviously does something right.

You’ve met Gist once and as much as you wouldn’t put them in the same category, that man is a drinker himself. Yet, he’s still able to keep his worth clearly to any passerby. Goes about travelling with that Irishman most of his days now. Haven’t seen him in a good few years.

Hickey tries to defend him, “I’ve been-“

“I know what you’ve done,” Haytham says with a raised hand. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Hickey looks to you up and down with a scowl and sets his ale aside. He stands from his chair, making it scratch against the floorboards loudly before dismissing himself to the Grandmaster. You’re quite surprised that no one else has showed up yet for your arrival back. Maybe most have forgotten about you. Or they’re away.

You can’t truly blame them though. You’re not a true part of the Templar cause. You’re a messenger, an information collector that gets paid by how important the job is. You wouldn’t compare yourself to that voyager Captain Cormac but the others have. But only by the way that both of you skip and hop around the place like a rabid dog. Unable to stick to one place for too long.

But it’s what you get paid for. Heading all the way out west and south to retrieve information for Haytham. It can be tiresome some months but most days it’s worth it. Seeing all the sights that America has to give.

But all of Haytham’s attention is on you now. He stands up slowly before looking you over. Something he’s been doing all day ever since you jumped off your horse coming back into Boston. You had to come all the way from Lower Louisiana with important French intel. Something Cormac wasn’t able to do since he’s up north. Probably still is since he’s not currently present.

You don’t want to hold a grudge against the poor man but it’s very hard when you’ve barely seen Haytham. The urge to reach out and touch is an itch that won’t go away. But, for the sake of Haytham’s reputation, you keep to yourself. The last thing Haytham wants is someone to see him with a man. You adjust your specks, pushing them up your nose. Maybe one day things will change.

The Grandmaster holds out a hand, gesturing towards the stairs. “Walk with me?” He asks with a small hint of amusement.

You nod your head gently, “Of course.”

Leading the way down the stairs and out the door, you can’t help but let your shoulders ease with relief. A brief touch on your upper arm has you looking to Haytham with a solum expression, even though you feel your chest constrict within you. It’s been too long since you’ve seen him. He hasn’t changed a bit but you may say the lines around his eyes have gotten a bit more prominent. But it suits him.  

“Come,” is all Haytham says before making his way down the street.

Blunt as always. That’s something you haven’t missed. With your hands behind your back, you walk after him. You keep your tongue still, not wanting to overstep or speak out of turn. Despite him telling you that he’s a high society man in the past, you’ve seen him break into too many places to count, kill without remorse and cause chaos in the middle of the street. Something that has you rolling your eyes every time.

But something you did not expect is for Haytham to step down the way of his own estate. You’ve only been here once and that was a good few years ago now. All your other little inquiries with Haytham have been held… elsewhere. It should leave a sour taste in your mouth but with each passing travel, you find yourself yearning for the man more. Even though sometimes he feels so far away when he’s right beside you.

Haytham Kenway’s estate is a two storey building on the outskirts of Boston. You can only guess to keep away from everyone else. But with the rate this place is growing he soon might be surrounded by other houses and properties. Most likely outshining Haytham’s in every way possible. But that’s the future.

You bring your eyes down to Haytham opening the door for you. His tricorn is off his head and he gesture inwards with it for you to enter first. You hum softly as you enter into Haytham’s home. And instantly, the smell of foxing books and tea leaves invades your nose. It’s almost overpowering but it’s almost familiar. The door clicks behind you softly.

“So, what matters did you want to discuss, sir?” You ask as you loosen your cravat from your neck.

A hand presses into the small of your back and you can’t help but stiffen up. You look to Haytham as he comes to your front, feeling around your waist until he stops on your stomach.

“There are no, important matters,” Haytham slurs out. “Only you.”

You can’t help but stifle out a laugh as you place a hand over his. He raises a brow to you, that concerned look coming over his features. This is not the man that you met earlier today. His eyes are too soft now, not the hard dark blue that could stop anyone in their tracks.

“You haven’t missed me that much have you?” You asks with a lilt of cockiness in your voice. It’s hard not to have it there, not with the way that Haytham looks to you now.

“Hmm, I would say as much,” Haytham hums out.

With nimble fingers, the hand on your stomach comes up and plucks your specs off your nose. You watch intensely as he folds them up in one hand before putting them off aside. You truly hate it when he does that because everything becomes a little fuzzy around the edges. But the way he looks at you is something that’s worth the minor inconvenience.

You finally reach out and unclasp the clip to his coat. It falls heavily to the ground with a heavy thud. Your hand touches his neck before caressing up his cheek. He grips your hand and pulls it away to kiss your palm. What a sweet man.

“Do you wish to-“ before you can even finish your sentence, Haytham brings you closer for a desperate kiss. One fill with teeth and tongue. But, you return it all the same with a hand gripping into his dark hair undoing that red bow he always has tied in it. He groans into the touch, a sound you savour all the same.

He pushes you backwards into the wall, almost knocking a painting off its hook. Haytham never parts from you though as his hands waver and venture down your chest, undoing every button on your vest in his path. The vest is discarded with your shirt coming next. You suddenly feel very exposed as his dark eyes look over you.

“This ain’t fair, Haytham,” you push him backwards with a hand on his chest. He complies, taking small steps backwards into the living room. Inches away from the fancy lounge he has, he grabs your hand and takes it from his chest.

“Many things aren’t fair, dear,” Haytham says.

You can’t help but scowl as he turns you around and pushes you backwards onto the lounge instead. You land with an oof onto the soft couches. You should be upset but the way that Haytham grips onto the back of the lounge as he leans over you with that look, it’s very hard to feel that way. Especially when everything you’re feeling is travelling down below, filling out in your pants.

Haytham comes down onto the couch, a leg coming between your own and pressing against your crouch. You can’t help the hiss that escapes from mouth. It’s been a while since you’ve let anyone touch you. And when a large hand kneads you through your pants, the groan that comes from your throat is savoury.

“What have your thoughts have me been? Since I’ve been away all this time?” You ask with a grin.

Haytham looks to you and you can see so many thoughts run behind his eyes. He leans down and kisses your neck, your jaw and then your lips.

“Many things,” he whispers deeply.

You lightly grab his face, making him look at you. “Show me,” you whisper back before kissing him deeply.

Clothes are striped off at an alarming rate and Haytham’s actions become desperate. His calloused hands run over your frame as soon as you’re free of your clothing. And the shivers that run down your spine has goosebumps littering your skin. He kisses you again deeply, biting at your bottom lip and sucking. His bites and kisses venture to your neck where it almost feels like as if he’s tasting you.

You grab onto the back of his neck and drag him down further onto the couch. He has to hold onto the back of the lounge to stop himself from falling over you. You bid yourself to think and open your eyes to take in the view in front of you. The muscles on his back twitch and move as his hands feel every inch of you. You take him in the best you can as he sucks and latches himself onto your neck. A hand wraps itself around your aching cock and your eyes roll up to the ceiling.

“Haytham,” you breathe out. “Please.”

He comes up and latches onto your lips again, deep and wet. His mind is probably a blur right now because yours is too. You get lost in the pure pleasure swirling in your gut and fogging your head. You grip onto his sides, your nails digging in as the hand that’s on your cock quickens it’s pace. Your back arches slightly off the couch as he squeezes at the base before stroking back up and flicking the bead of precum that’s leaking from you. It has you panting and holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

Haytham breaks off, breathing heavily into your cheek. He grinds down onto you and you can feel his own excitement rub up against your own.

“I’ve missed you,” you breathe out into his skin. “I’ve missed your touch, Haytham.”

Haytham returns that with another kiss as if he can’t get enough of you. You grip onto his hair, tugging at his locks that earn you a deep growl. Being like this, you miss it so damn much it hurts. You earn for him too much when you’re off on your little expeditions that it’s becoming a problem. You just hope that Haytham doesn’t send you away again on another six month journey. Because you don’t think you’ll survive this one with the way he makes you feel.

And seeing him like this, desperate to touch you. Desperate to taste you. Oh, it does so many things to you. And with him moving off the couch and guiding your hips with him, your heart does a flip. He sits on his knees in front of you, the Grandmaster of the Templar Order with your cock a breath away from his kiss swollen lips. The sight is something that no one will ever get to see but you.

“This is what I’ve wanted, dear,” Haytham almost whispers. “I’ve missed this too much for my own good.”

Only you.

You grip a hand into his hair again and guide him down onto your cock. He takes you beautifully and you grind your teeth, hoping to hold out for a few minutes more. But the way that Haytham sucks and bobs his head at your bidding is almost too much. His hands grip into your thighs painfully and you know there will be bruises there later. But it’ll be a reminder to today. Something you love to see in the mirror.

All for you. And only you.

-

;)

[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

[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.

[yoshi17here]

A Mall, A Date, A Christmas Day 8

wc:1.5k

paring:nonidol bf chanbin x y/n

YOSHI*(: I'm very sorry that it takes a while for me to post but my lazy ass has not been feeling well emotionally.

It was a cold December afternoon, and the air in the city was crisp with the scent of fresh snow, pine, and cinnamon. Christmas lights adorned every storefront, twinkling in the late afternoon twilight. Inside the mall, decorations filled the halls—golden garlands, red bows, and sparkling wreaths hanging from every beam. The excitement in the air was palpable, and you could feel the holiday cheer spreading to everyone around.

Chanbin, the person you’d been dating for the past few months, walked by your side, his hand in yours. Unlike the usual hustle and bustle of his work as an idol, today, Chanbin was just your boyfriend—a normal, slightly introverted guy who loved the simple things in life. The two of you had decided to escape the usual holiday stress and spend the afternoon together, browsing the shops, picking out gifts, and enjoying each other’s company. It was the perfect way to celebrate your first Christmas as a couple.

“You sure you want to do this?” Chanbin asked, his voice warm and gentle as he pulled you toward the entrance of a store. “I know Christmas shopping can be stressful.”

You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “I think it’ll be fun, especially since we’re doing it together.”

“I’m all in,” he chuckled softly, glancing at the glittering store window displays. “But just so you know, I’m probably the worst at picking out gifts. You’re going to have to help me a lot.”

“I don’t mind. It’s not about the presents anyway,” you said, nudging him lightly as you entered the store. The air inside was warm, and the faint scent of candles filled your senses as the soft hum of Christmas music played in the background.

The store was filled with rows upon rows of unique, beautifully crafted holiday decor—snow globes, plush reindeer, scented candles, and sparkling ornaments. Chanbin scanned the shelves, seeming a little lost as he ran his fingers through his hair. He had a way of looking endearingly out of place in situations like these. You loved it.

“So,” you began, looking at him with a playful grin, “what are we buying first? We could grab something for your parents.”

Chanbin thought for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, let’s do that. I’m sure they’ll appreciate something personal, like a photo frame or a nice candle.”

You smiled at his thoughtful nature. “Sounds perfect.”

As the two of you walked down the aisles, chatting and laughing, you found yourself constantly amazed at how easy it was to be with him. With Chanbin, there was no pressure. There was no rush. He was kind, attentive, and genuinely interested in making sure you had a good time, even on something as simple as shopping.

“Y/N,” he said, suddenly turning to you, his face softening. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you replied, your heart fluttering a little at the sincere tone in his voice.

“Do you like Christmas?” he asked, looking uncertain for a moment.

You nodded enthusiastically. “I love it! The lights, the music, the food… It just makes everything feel so cozy and special. Why?”

Chanbin seemed to smile to himself, as if your answer reassured him. “I’m glad. I know the holidays can be a bit much for some people. And, uh, I guess I just want this Christmas to be really good for you.”

Your heart melted at his words. “It already is, just being with you.”

He smiled, though you could see the faintest blush creep up on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, teasing him. “You know, you’re not exactly the type to get all mushy.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of me!” he protested, though there was no real heat in his voice. “I’m just saying that I want everything to be perfect. I’ve never really had a Christmas where I’ve gotten to do the ‘normal’ stuff—like going to the mall, picking out presents, just being with someone.”

“That’s why I wanted us to do this,” you said, squeezing his hand again. “I know this isn’t your usual vibe, but I think we’ll make it special. And hey,” you added, grinning, “at least you don’t have to worry about running into any fans, right?”

Chanbin let out a quiet laugh. “True. But you’re my favorite gift, so… I’ll just be focusing on that.”

You could feel the warmth of his words settle in your chest, and you tried to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips.

After grabbing a few more items—personalized mugs, candles, and chocolates for his family—the two of you continued strolling through the mall, finding yourself outside the crowded food court. The smell of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and warm coffee wafted through the air, and the soft glow of the Christmas lights made everything feel even more magical.

“So, how about a hot chocolate break?” you suggested, looking up at him with a playful smile. “We’ve earned it, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Chanbin agreed eagerly. “I’m starving, actually. Can we also grab some pretzels?”

You laughed. “Sure, we can grab whatever you want.”

You made your way to the kiosk, ordering two hot chocolates and a pair of giant cinnamon sugar pretzels. As you sat down on one of the benches near the mall’s large Christmas tree, Chanbin took a deep breath, gazing up at the lights. The tree was absolutely massive, adorned with thousands of twinkling lights and shimmering baubles, its star shining brightly atop.

“It’s a little surreal, isn’t it?” he murmured, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

You nodded. “It feels like a dream. But I love it. Being here with you, just enjoying the little things.”

Chanbin smiled softly at you, his eyes shining with a kind of quiet contentment. He didn’t say much more, but there was a warmth between you that was more than enough to fill the silence. The soft hum of holiday music played in the background, the sound of people laughing and chatting filling the air, but none of it mattered. In that moment, it was just the two of you—together, enjoying the day.

As the afternoon stretched into evening, you finished up your shopping. The bags in your hands had grown heavier, but it didn’t matter. You were happy. You had everything you needed. You had each other.

When the final moments of the evening arrived, you stood by the mall’s exit, your breath visible in the cool air. Chanbin turned to you, his hand gently brushing your cheek.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “For today. It’s been perfect.”

“Anything for you,” you whispered back, your heart full.

As the snow began to fall softly around you, Chanbin leaned in and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. It was the kind of Christmas moment that would stay with you forever—the kind of moment you knew you’d cherish for a lifetime.

And with that, you both walked out into the world, ready to create even more memories.

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

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🎀