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sommerregenjuniluft · 1 month

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@rosekillermicrofic may 4 — hopeless — 1233words — cw: mildly pervy and sexual thoughts, nothing explicit though

no thoughts, just line cook! barty

A miracle.

The gods have heard Barty’s wishes and granted him this blessing.

Evan usually gets set up for dealing with the bar or counter but on rare occasions his lovely name gets jotted down in the column of servers/busboys. Today is one of those fateful occurrences which means Barty has at least 30% longer time windows of flirting his jolly ass off and burning food he’s not paying attention to curtsy of Evan’s slutty narrow hips in those damn aprons. Obscene things, those are.

Barty is currently staring at them as he blindly flips the burger patties one after the other, the stove sizzling animatedly. Barty is pretty sure he hasn’t blinked once since Evan has entered the kitchen again a minute ago to help sort dishes.

“So how’s your day been so far, Evan darling?”

“No,” comes back immediately. Not even a look thrown over his shoulder.

Barty’s grin widens. He puts more meat on the stove.

“Aw, c’mon. People been scant with tips already or what?”

Evan doesn’t reply, instead ripping off the notes from his pad and wordlessly striding over to Barty’s station, pinning them up.

Two of today’s specials, one cheesesteak and one portion of chicken for a caesar salad. And a little dick scribbled in the bottom corner.

“More people coming in than usual. Get a move on,” Evan says before briskly walking off again. Barty just so manages to get a whiff of spicy deodorant and whatever shea butter coconut extract beauty shit Evan uses for his curls before he’s gone again.

Barty sighs, looking after his pert little ass and long legs all the way until he’s around the corner. Then he readjusts his grip on the spatula and finally picks the patties off the grill, calling for Lily to collect them and assemble.

“They’re burnt,” she hisses, punching him in the arm with vigor. It hurts but Barty is too busy thinking about what type of underwear Evan might be wearing today. “Stop getting distracted by Rosier and do your damn job, chef.”

Barty hums, “What you think it’ll take to trick Evan into following me into the freezer room?”

Another hit. The same exact spot and Barty can’t help but hiss in pain this time.

Lily simply shakes her head, muttering Hopeless as she leaves.

Rush hour comes and goes.

Barty doesn’t let himself be bothered by the frenzy of it, bobbing his head to his playlist jamming over the old, staticy speakers while servers bustle around him like worker bees.

It’s meditative to him in a way and usually he sort of snaps out of it once it all calms down.

It’s when Evan asks him for leftover containers that Barty is brought back down to earth today.

The other boy is flushed in the face, slightly sweaty and hair messy with what can only be described as the final quarter of an eight hour shift look. It looks unfairly sexy on him.

The take out containers are in the cupboard over Barty’s head to his left side which he made sure to push all the way back during his break earlier.

“Yeah, they’re right here,” Barty says, nodding to the shelf.

“Grab two for me?”

Barty turns back to his meat again, teeth digging into his lower lip, grin straining his cheeks. “Nope.”

There’s nothing for a few seconds, only the background noise of the restaurant, the sizzling oil and Barty’s music.

When he turns again Evan is standing in the middle of the kitchen, rooted to the spot, blinking at Barty once. “‘No’?”

Barty hums, “Yeah, ’m pretty busy right now in case you can’t tell.” He shuffles a strip of bacon around as if to prove his point.

Evan’s eyes narrow, lips twisting into an obscene little pout, “You just have to lift your arm!”

“Sorry, no can do, Rosie baby.”

“You-” Evan huffs, “Hand me the fucking boxes, Crouch.”

“Can’t,” he replies airily, shrugging. “They’re pretty high up, too,” a hum, “I might not even be tall enough. I think you’ll have to walk your devilishly tall ass over here and grab them yourself.”

“Branleur,” Evan spits before reluctantly closing the distance between them.

His amber eyes glower dangerously at Barty and he has to suppress a deeply satisfactory hum, gut tightening and blood thrumming.

Evan yanks at the handle, opening it up to the ceiling before stretching up on his tiptoes to peer into it. He lets out a grumble, presumably at finding the containers to, in fact, be there but pushed all the way to the wall.

He’s only taller than Barty by a bit, an inch or two, maybe three, which means he’s struggling to reach the boxes too.

And it’s glorious and heavenly and so very tempting because Evan’s shirt is riding up in the back and, oh god, he has dimples there. Fuck, Evan has back dimples and they’re approximately half an armslength from Barty’s twitching fingers and it really requires visceral effort not to reach out and dig the pads of his thumbs into them. Push and maybe fold Evan right in half over the counter all together. Lick along his spine and bite into his hip bones, the smooth skin of his stomach, nibble at that one little mole right next to his navel that Barty was once fortunate enough to make acquaintance with and has since rubbed one out to more times than he could count.

When the other boy lifts back down he catches him staring, their eyes snapping to each other instantly.

“Don’t be a perv,” Evan comments, giving Barty a derogative once over and christ, no, don’t do that.

Barty laves his tongue along the corner of his own mouth, collecting spit that was threatening to drool, and uses a quick hand to adjust himself in his jeans.

Evan’s eyes follow his movement, arms crossing in front of his chest and a heavy breath punches out of Barty. He can’t help it, his mind is a powerpoint of all the different things he wants to do to Evan to make him lose this put-on condescending demeanor. Glimpses of the prettiest pair of eyes rolling back, eyebrows scrunching pitifully as Barty sinks into deliciously tight heat.

He desperately needs to get Evan alone with him. “Wanna smoke a blunt with me after closing?” he blurts.

And then Evan suddenly smiles. A downright cute little thing, all coy and syrupy sweet, poisonously candid. So viscous saccharine Barty feels it immobilize him like a glue trap and he groans in anticipation of the fatal blow Evan is about to deliver.

“Sorry, B,” he murmurs innocently, clicking his head, “no can do.”

It glides over Evan’s lips all strained and faux and with the most erotic little pitch Barty’s ears have ever heard.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his semi straining so heavily against the denim it would surely be visible without his own apron.

From one moment to the next Evan’s smile falls, having fulfilled its purpose, and he gives one last snootily look before he whirls on his heels and marches away, takeout containers in hand.

Just over to the other end of the kitchen where he bends down to grab some cutlery with which he will scrape the leftovers from the plate into the aluminum containers.

Doing so, Evan’s shirt rides up again, his ass jutting out and Barty vaguely registers the smell of burnt pork as he commits the muscle shift of Evan’s thighs and back into his memory for later.

#RAHR HE’S SO DISGUSTING I NEED EVAN TO SQUISH HIM UP AND PRESS HIM TO THE HOT GRILL LIKE ONE OF THE MEAT PATTIES!!!!!#rosekiller microfic #rosekiller #rosekiller fic #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #line cook barty agenda #<- will make more of this hopefully #they’ve been plaguing my mind for a WHILE i’m happy i finally wrote smth about them #evan rosier x barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x evan rosier #lune’s tiny fic

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vodika-vibes · 6 months

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Crosshair as a LOVING partner lives rent-free in my head.

A Loving Man

Summary: Crosshair comes home to you after a long day.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1361

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So, I wasn't going to write this until tomorrow. "vodika," I said, "You wrote five stories today, take a break before you hurt yourself". And then I saw this and I needed to write it immediately. So. Here you go.

You hum along with the music as you prepare dinner. This is your favorite time of the day. When the rest of the world starts to slow down and you have time to think, rather than to react to whatever disaster happened to come your way that day.

When you can just relax with whatever meal you decided is on the menu that night. When you can look out the window and see the fireflies flickering to life around the yard, dancing to a tune that only they can hear.

When you know that the love of your life, of any of your lives, will be home at any moment.

And true to your prediction, you hear the front door open only moments later. The familiar sound of the old wooden chair near the front door creaking as he sits down to pull off his boots. The sound of the closet door opening and then squeaking shut as he hangs his jacket. And then light footsteps padding down the hall into the shared bedroom.

He’ll take a quick shower, wash off the strain of the day, and dress in clean relaxing clothes, and then, and only then, will he join you in the kitchen. He hates touching you when he’s covered in a day's work, though he’s no longer a soldier and the worst thing he’ll get on you is motor oil.

You tilt your head to the side as you hear the shower click on. If dinner didn’t require an active participant tonight, you would go and see how he felt about having a shower mate.

Oh well, maybe tomorrow.

You pop a roasted pepper into your mouth, before you focus your attention back to the meat. It’s getting to be the time of year where you can pull the grill out of storage. Only a few more weeks. Maybe you’ll finally talk Crosshair into learning how to cook if it’s something as enjoyable as using the grill.

And then strong arms slide around your waist and you feel a warm kiss against your cheek, “Snacking, kitten?”

“It’s a tragic side effect of being a cook,” You joke as you pick up a piece of pepper and offer it to him.

He eats it from your hand, and hums thoughtfully, “Needs a little something extra,” Crosshair decides.

“Oh? You think so?” You nod to your spice rack, “Pick your poison, Cross.”

He chuckles under his breath, and presses another lingering kiss against your cheek, before he releases you and heads over to the spice rack. “What did you already use?”

“Mm. Garlic and onion powder, paprika-” You list, “How was your day?”

“Uneventful.”

“Well, better that than over-eventful,” You quip with an easy smile, as he returns with salt and pepper. “Look at you, I’ll make a cook out of you yet.” You take the spices from him, though he doesn’t release them.

Instead he leans in and kisses the tip of your nose, “You’re not tricking me into using that death trap you call a grill, nice try though.”

“It’s not a death trap. It’s only blown up, like, twice.”

“Sure, sure. Buy a new grill and we’ll talk about it,” Crosshair finally releases the spices and he turns to set the table.

“Ha! I’ll hold you to that.”

He shoots you a fond look, “I know you will.” He sets the table with the ease of long practice, “Need anything else done before we eat?”

“Hm…” You run through a mental list, “Will you run into the basement and grab a new carton of ice cream, I think someone ate the last of it last night.”

“Oh. Someone did, did they?” Crosshair teases, “Is this someone you, or do we have rats eating our ice cream?”

You press your hand to your heart, “I would never eat the last of the ice cream.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” he heads towards the basement, “I’ll get you your ice cream, kitten. But you’re going to share this time, right?”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.” You smile at him angelically as he shoots you a look and then he vanishes into the basement.

Crosshair showed up at your clinic 2 years ago. Badly injured, overly cautious, and absolutely terrified, though he did an excellent job at hiding his fear. You knew, just by looking at him, that he was a deserter from the Empire, though you were very careful to not let on that you knew.

It took you six months of patient care to get him to agree to see a therapist, and it took an additional two months after that before he admitted to you that he deserted the Empire…and before that he abandoned his brothers.

Your relationship started not long after that. Though he never mentioned his brothers to you again. And you never pushed, it’s not your place, even now. Crosshair moved in with you six months after you started dating, and now people are starting to wonder when he’s going to pop the question.

You don’t expect him to. You don’t mind either way, you don’t need a legal document to prove what you know, and what he knows.

You hear the basement door open again, and Crosshair reemerges into your home with a carton of ice cream, which he promptly shoves in the freezer. “Thank you, Cross.”

“You’re welcome.”

You beam at him, “Dinner’s done. Bring me your plate.”

“Oh no you don’t,” He directs you to take your seat at the table, “You sit down, I’ll get us food.” He lightly runs his hand over your hair, “It’s not your job to serve me, kitten. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know. I just…I like doing it. I like taking care of you.”

“And I love that about you, but you’ve been on your feet all day, and I know your feet hurt.” Crosshair serves the food, making sure to give you more of the veggies than the meat, and then he sits next to you.

You smile at him lovingly and tangle your feet with his under the table, and huffs out a laugh, “I love you, Cross.” You say adoringly, mostly because he deserves to know that you love him, but partly because even now his face burns with embarrassment when you say that to him.

“I love you more.” He replies with a slightly ducked head. You don’t mind, a year ago he wouldn’t have even been able to get that much out. So this is a massive step forward.

You decide to have mercy on him and you take a bite of your peppers, and you eat in silence for a time, before Crosshair hesitates and sets his fork down, “Something wrong with the food?”

“No, it’s delicious, as usual.” Crosshair replies, “I…uh…I talked to the Doc today.” You nod, Doc was the only licensed therapist within three hours, and Crosshair has been his patient for over a year now, “He suggests that I reach out to my brothers.”

“Oh.” You set your fork down and fold your hand over his, “Is that what you want to do, Cross?”

He turns his hand over and threads his fingers with yours, “I…don’t know. We…there are some things that can’t be forgiven-”

You nod understandingly, “Do you maybe want to write a letter, and if you decide not to send it, then that’s fine, but it’s there if you want to?”

His shoulders relax, “That’s what Doc suggested. I’d like them to know you, even if they don’t forgive me. They deserve to know the person who encourages me to be better.”

“Well, I’m flattered, Cross.”

He smiles softly, and he reaches out to trail his thumb over your lips, “When I get there, when I’m ready, I intend to ask you to marry me.”

Your lips part in surprise, and then you beam at him, “When you’re ready, Crosshair, then I will be waiting to say yes.”

***********

Three weeks later, on Pabu, Hunter receives a letter from Crosshair. Inside is a simple one page long letter, a picture of you and Crosshair, and an address, if he should want to write back or visit.

#star wars #tcw #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

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black-shippers-haven · 2 months

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black selfshippers, imagine spending time with your fatherly f/o.

🎀 imagine him doing your hair while watching a youtube tutorial. is he clumsy with his fingers? is he so skilled that the tutorial is just background noise? either way, his effort and affection for you shines through 🎀 imagine grilling over the weekend together. he happily teaches you all the workings of the grill and makes your favorite foods. maybe he gives you tips and tricks and lets you try for yourself, watching over you to make sure you dont burn the food.

🎀 imagine how he likes to playfully embarrass you. trying to be "hip" knowing full well he's doing it wrong, but nothing makes him as happy as your playful reaction and the way you swat at him about it.

🎀 your fatherly f/o will always be there for you and protect you, but for now he wants to spend time with you and make happy memories.

{pro/com/darkship dni.}

#originals 🎀#imagines 🎀#familial 🎀#bipoc selfship #black self shipper #selfship imagines #selfshipping #safeship #familial f/o #self ship imagine #familial fictional other #father f/o #paternal f/o #parental f/o

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bloodfin · 7 months

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planning out this menu for next week so of course thinking about the ghouls and their kitchen/food habits

dew loves sweet, crunchy treats. kettle corn, frozen chocolates, chocolate covered nuts. anything sweet that will leave a trail of crumbs will do. what he hates, however, is dishes, so he'll do anything possible to avoid making more, including using a paper towel as a makeshift plate (this of course leads to more mess, and mountain has nearly banned him from the space on several occasions)

rain loves spicy foods. ordering thai? he's requesting level 5 spicy, with extra chili paste on the side. loves to chase spice-intolerant dew around offering kisses after. he has too many teeth, so he won't touch stringy foods like celery. in the kitchen, he will clean as he goes, but never remembers where to put the spatulas or whisks so good luck figuring out which drawer he plopped them in

mountain also has a sweet tooth, but more for cakes and cookies. his baking is rivaled only by sunshine, and they'll tackle the most difficult recipes together to make actual magic. also makes the best ✨️special✨️ treats with his home-grown stash. extremely clean and organized; everyone knows better than to bother him in the kitchen, choosing to sit and observe at the island instead. if they're extra good, he'll slide them a sample

swiss loves savory and crunchy snacks. chips, pretzels, extra toasty cheeze-its. mountain made him savory trail mix once and now he asks for a pound of it every yule. will keep the kitchen pretty tidy, but has an unfortunate habit of forgetting to close the cabinets he opens and has bonked himself on more than one occasion. also known to make anything into leftover sandwiches that have no right to be as tasty as they are

aether is a grill dad. grilling is peaceful for him, plus it keeps his hands warm. loves a good classic burger, or a grilled chicken salad, definitely a savory guy. there could be a foot of snow outside, and aeth will be lighting the grill up for dinner without complaint. he's still learning to use the smoker, ever the perfectionist, but no one is complaining about eating the "messed up" brisket that doesn't quite fall apart when you poke it

aurora is the soup queen. loves eating soup, making soup; all soup, all the time. the den has a lot of mouths to feed so mountain made her a special step stool to help her see more easily into the massive kitchen stock pot while she cooks. her favorite to eat (but least favorite to make) is cauliflower soup, it's creamy and delicious, but every time she uses an immersion blender the ceiling gets as much soup as she does

sunshine also loves baking. her favorite is a classic raspberry french macaron and she has perfected the technique - it's impressive. phantom loves to watch her cook in particular, she's so clean and precise, they hope one day to hold a measuring cup like she does. sunshine is a bit more patient in the kitchen, showing whoever is watching little tips and tricks. wears the cutest floral apron, almost always covered in flour handprints

cumulus is all about fruits and berries, loves citrus and blackberries the best. mountain painstakingly cares for a little tangerine tree, just for her. her favorite foods to make are comfort foods, and she always makes the macaroni and cheese for big group dinners. everyone begs for it (and rain doesn't even add hot sauce), but she is definitely one of the messier cooks. everyone knows she has been in the kitchen when there are wrappers left about, little twist ties on the counter. the pack doesn't mind terribly, not when her dishes could cure any emotional wound

cirrus is all about cold, sweet snacks. loves ice cream and popsicles, the freezer is well stocked. her favorite is orange pushpops, and she will take exactly zero questions about it. works with great efficiency in the kitchen, and will often be the one planning dinner party menus with mountain. that, and which special snack he should make next. her specific cooking talent is bread, in particular sourdough. she made a cinnamon bread once that made dew cream his pants, he still hasn't lived it down

phantom burned water once, never tried cooking again. loves to wear a thrifted shrek shirt, "in the morning, im making waffles." they aren't, they barely use the toaster, but they'll make puppy eyes at mountain until he sighs and starts getting the batter ready. will eat anything anyone feeds them, but has an extra soft spot for those cloyingly sweet white puffy sugar cookies with bright colored frosting and sprinkles. the first time they had one was halloween, and they insisted on saving all the bat sprinkles

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #rain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #aurora ghoulette #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #cirrus ghoulette #cumulus ghoulette #sunshine ghoulette #ghost headcanons #this got long if it's annoying on the dash ill add a readmore just let me know 🤍#written on mobile between grocery planning so if you see mistakes shhh you don't

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opalescentdreamscape · 2 months

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AAAA alright I'm still having Thoughts over a COD 141/Stardew Valley crossover AU. Probably going to do one guy at a time, so let's start with the reason I thought of this AU to begin with: John Price. (Post under a read-more (hopefully) bc it's a long one.) (Also y'all can see one of my last posts where I reblogged my original ask to another blog about this idea if you want a lil more context, lol.)

He moves to town just so he can live by the river and soak in the peaceful surroundings. He isn't the boss of anyone but himself here, and due to the money he made as a captain in the army, he can comfortably retire and just... relax for once. Until three days goes by and he's going stir-crazy in his new, barely furnished house. So he wanders around the forest for a bit, but doesn't forage because he's unfamiliar with most of the vegetation he's walking through. Then he meanders his way over to the beach and meets Willy, who immediately sells him on a good fishing rod and starts talking about all the fish John can catch in the river not ten yards from his front door.

"Just wait until fall comes around and you'll be up to your shoulders in salmon." Willy chuckles. John perks up at that, and within the month he becomes the best customer at the fish shop, constantly bringing in fresh catches to sell and buying tons of bait. He even buys the most expensive fishing pole Willy has in stock once he learns about the eels and tuna that he can catch from the beach during the summer, among other more elusive fish. One day, Willy mentions crab pots, and John starts buying those up too, catching himself crab and lobster on good days.

This is where he comes into contact with the farmer. Y'see, the farmer also likes to go fishing, although they normally only do it on rainy days, which is why they haven't met John yet. He stays in on rainy days and grumbles about old aches and a wound in his shoulder that hurts something fierce with the bad weather, so of course he hasn't met them. But one day, he finds them searching through one of his crab pots.

"Y'know, I get that we're in a small town and all, but stealing is still a crime." John huffs at the farmer, noticing a very large crab in the bucket they're carrying. My damn crab, he thinks. The farmer tilts their head at him, obviously confused.

"It's a good thing these are my crab pots then. I believe yours are those ones." They point down the stream a little ways, where another couple pots lie at the edge of the water, and John pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I swear I put mine here. I would've marked them, but I wasn't aware anyone else in town used those crab pots. Name's Price, by the way." He holds his hand out to shake, and the farmer grips his hand with more strength than expected.

"I'm Y/N, good to meet you, Price. Tell you what, since we aren't sure which is which, I'll give you the haul from these pots and go mark those other ones as mine, and it can just be water under the bridge, yeah?" They smile and pass their bucket to John, who hefts the crab with a grin.

"That's pretty neighborly for someone you just met, but we can split this crab to even the deal. Ever had char-grilled crab legs?" Even though he thought the farmer had been stealing at first, their honest reaction and complete willingness to overlook his initial attitude garnered his interest. He ends up following along while the farmer takes all their crab pots out of the river and off the beach, letting them borrow his pocket knife to scratch their initials into the lid, and they talk about food and fishing.

Eventually, they become better friends. They continue to chat about the wildlife in the valley, and start sharing more than just fishing tips and the occassional crab. The farmer starts contributing fresh produce to John's pantry, and John shares the various catches he gets every day. They tell him about the different foods he can find in the forest, and he tells them a few tricks he learned about killing different monsters in the mines, though he refuses to talk much more about that kind of thing, preferring to avoid discussions of violence and war. He doesn't ever offer to join them when they go mining, and they don't pry or try to cajole him into it. He's here to relax, after all.

Winter hits eventually, and with it comes down the full force of John's aching body. He ends up practically bedridden for 3 days after the first snowstorm hits, and who else is there to check up on him but the farmer? He tries to deny their help at first, grumbling that it's just his old war wounds, just (and I quote) 'an old man's pain', but the farmer is determined to help him out. They show him Lewis and George's tricks for aches and pains, cook some great meals, and talk him into playing some board games when thkngs get too quiet. One day, he asks about their other responsibilities, and the farmer reminds him that none of their usual crops can grow in the winter, which makes their days a lot less eventful than normal.

"This is helping us both out, alright? I have nothing to do besides go in the mines during the winter, and if I'm being honest, sitting here beating you at chess is infinitely more entertaining than getting beat up by a bunch of monsters. You're doing me a favor, John, whether you like it or not." John can't help but laugh at that, and it's a low, rumbling sound. The farmer can't help thinking that they want to hear it more, and they do as the months go by.

#fanfic #crossover au #fanwork #stardew valley au #cod 141 #john price x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #cod/stardew valley au #that's a fun tag to be writing out lmao #why stardew valley and cod you may be asking #it's because I'm autistic and these are my two biggest hyperfixations right now lol #idk what else to tag

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geminimoonbeamx · 2 years

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You can blow what’s left of my right mind(I don’t mind)

A/N: As usual, I'm two days late. But here she is. Writing this his reignited my love for Pedro Pascal in ways that are hard to describe. Please read @allaboardthereadingrailroad sister story and thank her for always dealing with my fuckery. Also GBB: Great British Bake-off. duh lol

Warning: Smut, Oral(femal receiving), Drug use. The very vague, brief mention of homie hopping. Minor mentions of infidelity at the end.

Pairings: Frankie “Catfish” Morales X Plus Sized Reader

Summary: After a shitty date, you fully accept the prospect of being alone forever. One spontaneous barbeque and a joint rolled by the handsomest man you’ve ever met later and you're reevaluating that notion.

You deserve your fate, re-downloading Bumble had been an offense against your carefully routine therapy schedule.

The date had been trash, but you could’ve guessed that. No need for a crystal ball or the stack of tarot cards that had become a staple party trick of yours in college. Another limp dick banker, six figures and no people skills. Gag.

You ponder your shitty decision making skills, hand on your hip, as you stare down the long aisle. Fluorescent and distorted, wine or something hard? What pairs well with leftover tiramisu. You reach for your phone as it dings in your bag:

Huh.

Tequila it is.

-------

Realtor Tom, as he’d been dubbed months ago, had finally closed on the property next door. Condo, beach front, wrap around porch. You have no idea how it could’ve taken it him so long to close on it but as you arrive, you congratulate him all the same-

Exchanging the crystalline bottle for a heavy plate, steaming, fresh off the fire.

It’s just something small and intimate, his celebration.

The porch lights are dim, music hums and the grill is worked by seasoned hands as the moon shines brightly down on the crashing waves in the distance. .

It’s you and Claire and a handful of Tom’s oldest friends, military men. Brothers. All that macho we almost died together and now live in each others back pockets bullshit that you think is just a skewed version of your grandmothers book club.

The stories they tell almost seem lifted straight off a page, carefully crafted. Pieces clearly cut away for you and Claire’s benefit. The bloody kind, you figure. A shame really, you like your gossip like you like your steak- medium rare. Raw and almost unpalatable.

Men suck, as a whole. But former military men with jawlines that could cut diamonds? Yeah, you could stomach that. Work with it even.

The golden boy with the right dash of middle america and bright blue eyes, Will- right? He’s your usual type.

Unfortunately not all that in interested in you though as far as you can tell.

Pope’s darkly handsome with black hole vortex like charm, a gaping maw with salt and pepper hair. Your daddy issues are screaming-

Claire weaves and bobs through conversation with skill- honed in on a target that you don't think Benny, the little brother who likes to box, has caught on to yet. With his eager eyes and booming laughter he obviously still thinks he’s in the game.

Her daddy issues are worse than yours..

“You wanna hit this?”

It comes from beside you. Frankie’s hand is outstretched, a freshly rolled joint in between his long fingers.

“Greens? For little ol’ me? Thanks, you’re a real gentleman” You tease, grinning as you take it. It’s clean work, pretty as shit and pulls perfect. You hold his gaze, just for a moment as you suck on the end.

You hadn't been sure about him, hours ago. Tall, lanky, donned in Hawaiian tropic and a baseball cap.

Catfish, Frankie, is a pilot. Contracted through some government agency since he retired from the military. You think he’d be a great commercial pilot, cute little helicopter flights for rich fucks over the bay, turtle island. His easy humor would win ‘em all over. You’d be his first client, he could take you out anytime.

“Yeah, you want me to take you flying?” He grins, tips his beer. Entertaining the idea.

“What girl wouldn't?” You counter “I mean, heights aren't really my thing but if the pilot was good enough, sure. I’d be game”

He shakes his head, playing it cool. Yeah, whatever you want, just tell him when.

Is there certain terminology for flight head or would that just fall under the blanket statement of joining the mile high club?-

You reach over to hand the joint to Claire, the dim fairy lighting hitting her dark eyes just right. A smug, knowing gleam aimed right at you.

The night bleeds away and the shots of tequila start to lose their sting.

Everything is warm, the sticky Floridian heat doesn't dwindle, not at all phased by the mid October time stamp. You glow, alcohol fueled, from the inside out. You know these guys better now, these near strangers feel inner circle close,

But maybe, it's just because you’re sitting in a circle?

Or maybe it's because that expensive bottle you’d brought, Tom’s gift, is long gone. The sketchy little decanter Santiago brought- the one with a distended scorpion that came straight from the Motherland is getting there too.

Clear liquor is thicker than blood, or whatever that saying is.

Will bows out first which, surprise surprise. Who has to work on a Sunday? Tom soon after, toting a stumbling old country song singing Benny-

“Last time I let you crash at one of my properties, I was left scrubbing who know’s what the fuck off the the three thousand dollar couch. Get your ass up”

And then there were four.

Pope insists that it’s in poor taste not to finish this particular bottle, bad luck.

You know what else is bad luck- hangovers. You’re out, its been fun and real and real fun.

You’re not expecting Claire to leave with you, because you know- the daddy issues. And the liquor tolerance of steel.

You remind her to lock the door when she gets home, she’s on Buttercup duty in the morning too, still drunk or not.

“I think i'm going to head out, too, man” Frankie announces, standing just after you and your stomach erupts into butterflies. “I’m too old for this shit”

They, Frankie and Pope, exchange words in spanish. Embracing. Laughing.

You and Claire exchange words, silently. Telepathically. All eyes and vibes.

The verdict is clear;

Use protection.

----------

You’ll walk him to his car you offer and he chuckles, will do you one better and walk you to your door. All of fifteen feet away.

The night can end here and it still would have been good, beautiful even. Far removed from the horrible date, but you?

Make bad decisions. Tequila addled or not.

You reach for his hand, twining your fingers in between his and tugging. Staring up at him with want, bare and vulnerable, written all over your face.

“Come home with me?”

Frankie looks like he might say no. Like there's something on the tip of his tongue that you have no desire to unearth, something that should dictate a hard decline. Like he should utter the words that will end the night-

But he doesn't want to. You can tell.

You tug him all the way up the the porch stairs.

Fumbling not to let go as you fiddle with the key, the moment the door swings open its like a switch has been flipped. He’s turned on. A squeal breaks free as as he crowds you in all body and warmth and close, close, close head spinningly fast.

He kicks the door shut with the heel of his heavy boot.

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

You don't do one night stands.

Not because of morality or maturity or lack- but because they’re unpredictable. The few you;d had had fallen on the spectrum of either holy fuck wow, or never, ever, again,

Frankie sits in his own bracket-

A peel of laughter breaks out of you as he runs his bearded face across your neck, into the sensitive skin behind your ear.

He’s fun, playful. It doesn't feel like a performance, him touching you. He digs his fingers in to feel. He runs his tongue across what he wants to taste- he’s not against lighting up another spliff.

The plumes of smoke pass between your mouths in hot kisses and coughed fits of giggles.

“That did not happen” You accuse, sprawled out on the couch. Your hair fanned across a throw pillow, silky slip of a top long gone as Frankie sits between your bare spread thighs.

“It did- and that shit’s prosecutable in most third world countries” He informs lightly in all seriousness, the two very different tones existing harmonious as he husks it in your ear.

Playful, all fun, until he's kissing down your chest. Wet and scorching,

It feels good, the drag of prickly facial hair over all that soft supple skin. Hypersensitive, you arch into his mouth when his teeth catch on your nipple, just on the right side of pain. He’ll stop, the soothing lave of his tongue makes that clear.

You knot your fingers in his thick black hair and push him deeper into your chest.

He’s attentive, so much so that it’s almost odd. He just met you not even six hours ago and he’s treating you so nice- it must be his kink or something. Oral fixations. He doesn't want to pull away, his mouth slams back to yours after every minor disconnection.

He has to yank his shirt over his head? Kiss- has to shimmy his jeans down his long legs? He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth the moment they’re off. You smile into each one.

“You wanna fuck me, Frankie?” You whisper into his mouth because he’s so hard and hes rocking into you, nudging against lace“You can have it, what ever you want”

He’s not a man who needs to be told twice, or so you learn. “Whatever he wants”, you’d offered. Thought he’d slip your panties to the side, pound into you. Condom first of ofcource, youre not that fuck dumb yet- but there he goes with that mouth again. Down, past your sternum and belly button and the round curve of your stomach and oh, there goes your panties-

Fuck.

He shoulders his way right where he wants to be, face first between your legs, “Right here baby, keep ‘em right here' ' because hes slim but far from weak and you’re going to wrap your thighs around his ears whether you want to or not.This is the good stuff, the kind of stuff that blocks out all the ugly shit he’s seen and the bad things he’s done. It’s white noise, peace and he goes down you like he’s dying for it.

Fucks his tongue into you in a way that makes you whine. All men(boys not included) like eating pussy, in theory. Only a select few of them love it,

Frankie Morales loves that shit.

Your eyes roll as his nose nudges your clit and what’s that quote about big noses? Its messy, overly wet and yeah, sloppy but who cares. The squelch and slurps make you shiver because what the hell? You were not expecting this. You nearly lurch right off the couch when his fingers join in because wow yeah you knew g spot orgasms were a thing but this is something else completely.

He doesn't stop until it hurts. Until your muscles burn and his jaw is threatening to lock. Until you're begging him to let you ride him, using the back of the couch to bounce in his lap in a way that's truly impressive. Your pilates instructor would be so proud of your muscle elasticity.

The two of you are barely human Jell-o after. When you offer your bed for the night, he doesnt have the energy to decline.

----------

The sun is bright in the sky by the time Frankie gets his shit together, clothes pulled on and out of your wildly comfortable bed. He tells you he’s leaving, kisses your cheek- even when you groan and push him away, burrowing deeper into your comforter. He debates on waking you up, on chicken scratching a note with his information-

No numbers will be exchanged, no promises of next time.

It’s for the best, less messy. He tries to comfort himself with this facts as he trudges down the stairs.

He’s head pounds with the beat of his heart and he could throttle Pope for pressing those last few shots. Too old, not young enough to deal with mornings after anymore-

“Good morning”

Claire stands in the middle of the naturally lit kitchen, hair tied up neatly, donned in activewear. Her tawny complexion clear and unblemished. Not a dark circle in sight.

A panting squirming mass bum rushes him and winds around his feet . Oh, Frankie remembers you putting a dog in their room last night.

“Good morning, I was just going to head out-”

“Ill walk you out- we were about to go for a run anyway. Buttercup, leash” Claire’s tone is cheerful, even. There’s no waver, nothing to prepare him for what comes next.

The moment the front door opens, they spill out onto the pristine lawn, and he’s heading for his truck-

“Oh and Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“Say hi to your wife for us”

Read @allaboardthereadingrailroad sister story to find out what happened with Claire, Pope and that bottle: One Night Stand

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x plus size reader #frankie catfish morales x reader

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carnivorousyandeere · 1 year

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SFW Alphabet: Mason

CW: alcohol, a little suggestiveness, kidnapping, violence and murder, manipulation

Sorry for taking so long~ Had to spend time studying, blehhh. Also kept getting distracted when writing this and thinking of things that would probably fit better on his other alphabet 🫣

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Mason shows some affection physically, generally keeping a hand against your back or around your waist. He also unintentionally falls into a sort of Sugar Daddy role, buying you pretty much whatever you like (within reason, he’s not super rich lol). In addition, and this might come as a surprise, he’s one of the werewolves most adept with verbal comfort and praise, lowering his head to your ear so nobody else overhears what he has to say 💕

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Just ask Hunter; they watch sports together, drink together, go on walks together, makeout once in a while 🫣

Being the Sheriff, you may have met him while he was on duty. Maybe he got called because somebody was getting rowdy at the diner, and afterwards while checking to make sure everyone was okay, he paid just a little extra attention to you… Gave you his personal number, y’know, in case you ran into more trouble… 😏

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Mason enjoys holding you and just breathing in your scent after a long day at work. His favorite ways to cuddle are having you in his lap, or having you lay with your head on his chest <3

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Like Hunter, I think Mason is already domestic. Of course, he feels a lot of pressure from keeping the group under the radar, and if you want to help relieve that stress he would greatly appreciate it 💖

Mason can clean and cook (especially on the grill– who do you think showed Hana all the tips and tricks for perfect kebabs and meats?), but oftentimes he’s too tired after work. Once he has a day off to sleep in, though, he’ll tidy up around the place that afternoon.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Uhhhh….. I don’t want to be That Person, but as a cop he has a disproportionate amount of power to keep you where he wants you. If you escape, he’s got strings to pull at the D.A. to put out an APB and warrants out for you, so even if you escape the jurisdiction, cops from a neighboring county could catch and bring you back… it draws a lot more attention than he wants, and he feels extremely dirty for it, but he rationalizes it as somehow being “for your safety” 😒

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Mason loves the idea of a beautiful, quiet, rustic wedding with you. He’ll start to think about getting married within a month of knowing you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Mason is very gentle with you physically (unless you… want him to be tougher on you 😳). Emotionally, however, he can be a bit more manipulative and coaxing than his “open-and-honest, upright lawman” persona is designed to suggest.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Mason likes hugging you; he just melts into you at the end of the day, and it means the world to him if and when you run up to him for hugs <3

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Mason says he loves you for the first time when you spend the night alone together, whispering it against the top of your head as you fall asleep.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Mason really only gets jealous if you form relationships outside the pack. Then he gets his hackles all raised and does his best to intimidate and scare them away from you. It makes him feel really content to see you enjoying yourself and having fun with the pack, even if he doesn’t get the majority of your attention 🥹💕

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Mason likes it when you kiss him on the forehead, and he loves to give you kisses across your back and shoulders. His kisses are soft and slow most of the time. He also tastes like coffee in the morning, and sometimes whiskey or bourbon at night 👉👈

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Mason is incredibly good with kids, especially babies! He would make a good Dad.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mason will snooze his alarm and snuggle back up to you.. Just five more minutes?

But eventually, he’s gotta go to work. I mean, unless you wanna go with him…? No? Alright, he’ll let you sleep in 💕

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Mason falls asleep pretty early and easily, and he loves to cuddle with you~ He’s not too much for the nightlife or staying up super late anymore, although he’ll make an exception to go out for a few drinks with you and Hunter, or to stay up for a good backyard bonfire date with the whole pack.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Mason’s middle-of-the-road on this. He’s certainly got skeletons in his closet (NOT literal… that would be the worst place to hide human remains… if he had any to hide 🫢), that he doesn’t want to share with you. Other than those bigger secrets, and the lengths he has and will go to to protect you, he’s open about everything else. He’s too old, and concerned with bigger problems, to be too shy about who he is and what he wants.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Mason does his best to be level-headed and patient, but that patience has his limits. Limits that Ace likes to push and prod at for fun. Luckily, he’s so enamored with you that he’ll never get truly mad at you (well, except for if you do something dangerous and he’s worried, and it comes out as frustration). Most of the time he just sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, making an effort to keep his temper in check, but every once in a while he does yell. Again, mostly just at Ace though. And when he found you in the lodge all scraped up after the kidnapping he yelled at Hunter for the first and only time. And Mateo did push just a few too many buttons that other time… Maybe his temper isn’t that well controlled after all 😓

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Mason remembers almost everything~ Sometimes smaller details slip his mind when he’s busy, but he always feels bad when he misses something, and he kisses you on the forehead and promises to make it up to you 💝

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Any little moment that displays your trust in him. When you look up at him with trust and love in your eyes, it really takes his breath away. He also likes it if you cling to him or hide behind him when you get nervous, and when you show him things you’re really excited about. He might not always understand what you’re telling him about, especially if the subjects you’re interested in are more obscure, academic, or artistic, but he loves listening to you talk about them regardless.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Mason is incredibly protective, and he’s very strategic about how he protects you. If he can manipulate or leverage his position as a cop to resolve a situation, he will. The less you know about his efforts behind the scenes, the better. He never wants you to look at him with fear or disgust. If you’re in immediate danger and he has no choice, Mason can kill with no remorse. He will act like he feels worse about it than he does, so you hopefully won’t think of him as a monster…

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Mason puts a lot of effort into dates and anniversaries, but might not always have a great idea of what you’d like. He starts out with stereotypical romantic dinner dates, and if you’re not particularly interested in those, he’ll have a difficult time trying to figure out what it is you’d actually like lol. He could just ask you, but he doesn’t want to admit that he’s lost on what to try. Ace overhears him asking Hunter for advice and roasts him about it endlessly 😭

Okay sorry, got carried away there lol. Everyday tasks get as much effort as he has energy for, being tired much of the time. He likes casually going shopping with you and buying you gifts here and there 💕💕

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

…….his whole career. No offense meant.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s old and his back hurts, he doesn’t have the time or energy to care too much about his looks. That said, he does try to keep his beard and hair trimmed, and as long as his clothes are clean and not-too-wrinkled, he’s good to go 🫡

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Mason would be able to go about everyday life and continue to do his job, compartmentalizing to hell and back, but any light he had left inside him is dead. Nothing gets a genuine reaction from him anymore; it’s as close to an automaton as a human– or werewolf– can get.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Mason’s pretty casual about physical affection. In another post I’ve talked about how he’ll keep his hand on your thigh when you’re in the passenger seat and he’s driving. Similarly, when you’re walking, he often holds your hand and absentmindedly strokes his thumb over your hand. Also, every once in a while, when he’s sure nobody else is around to see, he will playfully slap your ass (if you’re okay with it). He’s not easy to embarrass but asking him to do that more often, or in front of other people, is a good way to do it lol.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Mason loves you and can excuse almost anything you do. Even if you’re committing crimes left-and-right, and helping Ace make his life harder, he’ll go easy on you. Ace would be constantly pouting about the blatant favoritism lmao.

The only thing that would really make him sad would be if you rejected his love, and his gifts. It’s not a deal breaker, he’s sure he’ll win you over eventually, it just really hurts to hear you say horrible things to him, or destroy whatever he brings you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Mason likes to drink a little nightcap before bed, usually a small shot of liquor. It helps him relax and unwind after a long day. One of the werewolves bought him a maternity pillow as a joke about him being a “mom friend” and he still sleeps with it anyway. It helps with his back and knees ☺️💕

#oc mason #my thoughts #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere cw #werewolf pack #yandere werewolf #werewolves #werewolf #sfw alphabet

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workingforitallthetime · 10 months

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drawn arrows unseen

part 9 / previous installments/tags

Mason must be going crazy, that’s all there is to it. He’s still learning his nose and it’s giving him bad intel. That must be what it is, because no one else seems to catch Connor’s scent. Mason can pick it up from the other side of their huddle, sharp and clean and dangerous, and the alpha coach between them keeps right on scrawling on his whiteboard like nothing’s going on.

That’s what lets Mason believe this isn’t what his nose is telling him. This is his problem and only his problem. If the coaches could smell Connor, they’d make Mason change rooms. Maybe they’d even send him straight back to Peterborough, if they had any idea what it feels like to sleep in the same room as Connor.

“Sleep” isn’t even the right word. Mason lies awake every night fighting his body’s reactions, trying to will his blood into an orderly flow through his veins instead of racing to his head and to his dick, not in that order. Every calming breath he tries to take is steeped in Connor’s scent. He curls on his side, tucking his knees like he can cork up the heat blooming in his belly.

“Norway,” Connor whispers from the opposite bed, and Mason has to stammer out Oslo while he’s practically dying.

He’s not going to jerk off five feet from his sixteen year old roommate and the future of Canadian hockey. He’s not going to do it in their bathroom, or in the shower, either. Aside from how that would feel creepy, he’s also pretty sure if he touches himself around Connor’s scent he’s going to pop a knot, and he doesn’t know how to manage that here.

It’s not so bad during the day. When they’re playing hockey, it’s easier for Connor’s scent to be more distracting than excruciating. All of their conversations unspool seamlessly from their text chain back into real life. Mason likes being around him, is the thing. It would be nice if Mason could stop smelling whatever it is he’s smelling and just enjoy being together.

One day they’re talking about Mason’s brother and how the strength and conditioning he does for MMA compares to Mason’s workouts, and Connor comments that Mason must have picked up some tips for fighting. “I’m not bad,” Mason allows, and Connor wants Mason to teach him some tricks.

After practice the next day, Mason tries to show Connor how to haul a guy in so his face connects harder with your fist. He twists his hand in the front of Connor’s jersey. Connor goes pliant and lets Mason pull him close. Mason swings a slow-motion uppercut and taps his fist against the grill of Connor’s fishbowl. “See?”

“Try it again.” Connor squares up.

Mason drags him in for another swing. Connor’s easy to haul around. Mason weaves backwards, bringing Connor with him, forgetting to punch because it feels so good to pull Connor toward him again and again.

[would you like video of this? there is video.]

Wright passes him in the tunnel afterwards. “That’s so cute, you’re such a big brother.”

Mason grunts at him and grabs his skate guards. He stomps off looking for the closest single occupancy bathroom in the bowels of the arena, someplace he can unlace his breezers for a quick and shameful wank.

During practices and meetings and meals he circulates among his teammates, assessing. He pays particular attention to the guys who are older, bigger, who’ve played NHL games. His nose tells him that Jake Neighbours and Cole Perfetti and Kaiden Guhle aren’t alphas, or at least haven’t presented yet.

Mason doesn’t even need his nose to figure out that Owen Power is the one and only omega at camp. He’s constantly on the phone with Kent Johnson, touching his fingertips to the shadow of Kent’s teeth under the collar of his t-shirt.

Mason’s not sure why they’d have an omega on the team, especially on defense. Power won’t hit anybody. He looks unsure of himself, coltlike on his very long legs. Mason overhears two of the coaches talking about it on the bench. They don’t sound concerned. “That’ll work itself out,” one of them says. “Once we get Johnson here.”

(next)

#drawn arrows unseen #kent and owen appear! their scene tomorrow is one of my favorites

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fitnessreview · 12 days

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Unleash Your Inner Powerhouse: Best Foods to Improve Gut Health for Weight Loss

Hey there, weight loss warriors! Sarah here, your guide to sustainable weight loss on Medium. Today, we're diving into the fascinating world of gut health and its surprising connection to shedding those unwanted pounds.

Let's face it, the "abs are made in the kitchen" motto rings true. But what if your kitchen efforts are being sabotaged by an unhappy gut? Research suggests a strong link between gut bacteria and weight management. So, fueling your gut with the right foods can be a game-changer in your weight loss journey.

Here's the good news: you don't need fancy supplements or drastic changes. Let's explore some readily available US supermarket staples that'll transform your gut into a weight-loss ally:

1. Fiber Fiesta: Your Gut's BFF

Fiber is the ultimate prebiotic, food for the good bacteria in your gut. These friendly fellas keep you feeling full, regulate digestion, and even help control blood sugar – all factors that contribute to healthy weight management.

Load Up on Leafy Greens: Spinach, kale, and romaine lettuce are all-star sources of fiber. Aim for a colorful mix in your salads and stir-fries.

Go Whole Grain: Ditch refined carbs like white bread and pasta. Opt for whole-wheat bread, brown rice, and quinoa for sustained energy and gut-friendly fiber.

Bean Bonanza: Beans and lentils are a triple threat: packed with fiber, protein, and resistant starch, a prebiotic superstar. Enjoy them in chili, soups, or hearty salads.

2. Fermented Frenzy: Probiotics to the Rescue

Fermented foods are teeming with probiotics, the live bacteria that work wonders for your gut. They aid digestion, boost immunity, and may even help regulate weight by promoting feelings of fullness.

Yogurt Power: Choose plain yogurt with live and active cultures. Sweeten it naturally with berries or a drizzle of honey for a satisfying snack.

Kimchi Kick: This spicy Korean staple is a fermented cabbage dish loaded with probiotics. Add a dollop to your next stir-fry or enjoy it as a side dish.

Sauerkraut Savvy: This tangy fermented cabbage is another excellent source of probiotics. Find it in the refrigerated section of your grocery store and enjoy it on hot dogs or alongside sausages.

3. Prebiotic Powerhouses: Fueling the Good Guys

While not technically probiotics themselves, prebiotics are the food source for your gut's good bacteria. By feeding them, you promote a healthy gut microbiome which can positively impact weight management.

Banana Bonanza: These readily available fruits are high in prebiotic fiber (resistant starch) that keeps you feeling fuller for longer.

Garlic Goodness: This flavorful addition to your meals boasts prebiotic properties. Add it to stir-fries, pasta sauces, or enjoy roasted garlic cloves for a satisfying snack.

Asparagus Advantage: This spring vegetable is another source of prebiotic fiber. Roast it, steam it, or grill it for a delicious and gut-friendly side dish.

Bonus Tip: Stay Hydrated!

Water is essential for optimal gut health and digestion. Aim for eight glasses of water daily to keep your gut functioning smoothly and support weight management efforts.

Remember: Weight loss is a journey, and a healthy gut is your travel companion. By incorporating these gut-friendly foods into your American diet, you'll be well on your way to a healthier, happier you, both inside and out.

Want more personalized advice? Leave a comment below and let's chat! And don't forget to check out my other Medium blogs (search for "Sarah - Sustainable Weight Loss") for more tips and tricks on your weight loss adventure.

P.S. Share this article with your fellow weight loss warriors! Let's spread the word about the power of gut health for a healthier America.

#fitness #gut health #healthylifestyle #healthcare #health & fitness #i wanna lose weight #weight loss #weight loss journey #weight loss tips #fitblr #fitspo #health and fitness

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