#now we just wait for their calorie moment!!

[moonjxsung]

Where the Storm Looms

Copyright Ⓒ 2023 by Moonjxsung

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner. Doing so will result in a legal takedown per the Digital Millennium Copyright Act and is subject to legal action.

*This fic is part 2 to “When the Rain Stops.” You can read part 1 here.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 13k

Warnings: smoking, drinking, mention of cheating, mention of masturbation, mention of casual sex, brief mention of calories, nipple play, unprotected sex, bulge kink, creampie, squirting

Synopsis: Now living in the city he despises, Minho is determined to find you again- despite the sacrifices he’ll have to make.

18+. mdni!

•

They say if you love something, you have to set it free. And if it comes back to you, it’s yours.

So what implication can be drawn if you go searching for it- for three months and 13 days straight?

Minho isn’t sure.

The city is just as grimy as he remembered it- teeming with the sounds of pushy street vendors, bumper-to-bumper traffic and conversations of plummeting stocks at every corner. The coffee is overpriced, and the people dress in gray slacks even on laundry day. The girls are pretty- they’re decent in bed, they work good jobs and they can carry a conversation well as long as it involves their respective companies or an ex-boyfriend.

But none of them are you.

Minho feels stupid for thinking about it this extensively. A random hookup in his bar as a result of bad weather conditions- one you never even bothered saying goodbye to him after, and yet he’s still hung up on you.

That stupid game. He should've never let you fix that arcade game. Maybe then you wouldn’t have stayed so long, wouldn’t have kissed him back even though he’s the one who initiated it. Wouldn’t have let him fuck you on the pool table, moaning his name over and over again like a prayer permanently etched into his memory. But he didn’t stop any part of it- in fact, he didn’t want to. Minho knows he wouldn’t have been able to deny you anything you asked for that night, not with the way you looked at him through wide sparkling eyes, scared you’d angered him, when all he really wanted was to keep you safe. Safe from the storm, safe from people with ill intent. He’d pour you a hundred cups of Diet Coke on the rocks if you asked, or be a chance card in another game of pool you’d inevitably lose at. He’d make love to you repeatedly on any surface inside the dive bar, kissing you every chance he got like it would be his last. Because you changed something in him that night- and he’s determined to find you again.

*

“Still waiting on that garlic bread. And we have another order for fettuccine.”

Minho nods once, drizzling a pan with olive oil and prepping the ingredients that sit in disarray on the counter in front of him.

Tales from the hotel kitchen.

So maybe getting his job back as a private chef was a harder feat than he’d originally anticipated it to be. But Minho’s sudden assimilation back into city life meant he had to make adjustments- sacrifices. And although he’s still technically the owner of the little dive bar 6 hours out of the city, he recently signed co-ownership off to Jeongin, who’s been practically running the place while Minho does some soul-searching in the city.

Of course, the soul he’s searching for is nowhere to be found.

Coffee shops, bookstores, convenience shops, dive bars... Minho recently read there are nearly 2 million people in this godforsaken city at any given moment of the day. That’s a 0.0000005% chance he’ll run into you again. Coupled with the fact he’s already run into you once before, and slept with you, the odds are considerably lower. But nonetheless, the objective remains.

Sometime after the initial run-in, Minho also realized he knows nearly nothing about you. You never spoke of an occupation, or a significant other, or even your favorite color. He does know you live in the city, you’re vulnerable against married men and you can use a screwdriver like a cellphone. The rest is left to his wandering imagination.

“Minho, your bread is burning,” a voice interrupts, and he snaps out of the daze he’s in to lower the heat on the oven. Minho’s sous chef Seungmin sighs in irritation, practically pushing Minho aside to retrieve the loaf from the oven himself.

“Do you want me to take over for the evening? You seem really distracted and we’re super busy out there.”

“No, I’m fine,” Minho says, his eyes darting briefly to the window across from him.

Dark rain clouds loom over the afternoon sky, but it doesn’t rain- in fact, it hasn’t rained once since that night. At first, he sees it as some sort of blessing, attributing the mostly-clear skies to your presence somewhere in the city. Perhaps where you go, the sun follows.

But he quickly realizes that it’s more of a curse, this constant storm looming over him, taunting him with promises of darkened clouds and rainfall, only for the nighttime to bring clear skies once again.

It never rains anymore. Sometimes Minho thinks he imagined you, that night in his bar.

Maybe he imagined the rain, too.

*

The ceiling of this apartment is in desperate need of some TLC, Minho thinks, as he lays in bed that night with hands folded over his chest. It’s riddled with cracks and imperfections, running along the drywall like a design choice. But it’s not a design choice- it’s a result of the shitty architectural integrity of this crowded city. Everyone’s so desperate to live out here they’d put up with leaky roofs and cockroaches before they’d live in the suburbs. Minho thinks back to his apartment in the suburbs, where his three cats are currently being taken care of by a friend, and the biggest pain point is patching up thumbtack holes when he moves things around. It’s spacious, a lot bigger than this dump, and it’s a hell of a lot cheaper.

There’s no set time Minho has dedicated to being out here. “When the time is right, I’ll leave,” he told his friend, averting his gaze to avoid raising suspicions about his intentions out here. But to most, it’s clear Minho is going through something. His hair is visibly longer, the silky ends of it now resting just above his shoulders. He can’t be bothered to care about what he wears, knowing very well that he doesn’t blend in with the other city-dwellers when he’s in jeans and a baggy t-shirt. But without the bar to dress up for like he used to, he doesn’t find reason in trying.

Minho’s also well aware that he looks like a complete lunatic, coming out to the city like this to search for a hookup. If your paths do cross, there’s a likelihood you’ll call the police and have him arrested for stalking. You could also have zero recollection of who he is, or that you ever hooked up with him. You could have a boyfriend, be married by now, or just not interested in Minho. Maybe you regret that night. Maybe you lied about being from the city. You could be on the other side of the world by now, and he’d have no clue.

But he feels it- he feels you, in this city, at every corner he turns. He sees traces of you in the people who smile at him when he passes them by. He sees you in the people who hold doors open for him, the baristas who make foam hearts in his lattes every morning, even the businessmen when they catch themselves admiring the beauty of the buildings on a smoke break. He sees you in all things good, when he’s reminded momentarily that the world has more to offer than boxing him in the confines of a dark bar out in the suburbs. And while he’s not completely in love with life all over again, it’s a start.

The hotel patrons give their compliments to his cooking, and he’s reminded of his days as a private chef again, chasing the sweet high of people fawning over his entrees and desserts. When he calls Jeongin to check up on the bar, he remembers the view out the window by the kitchen- nothing but a parking lot, empty most days, or plagued by truck drivers and prostitutes.

Sure, his apartment window in the city faces a brick wall, but he can escape at any given moment of the day to be part of the towering skyscrapers and city lights that stay on all night. It’s then that he feels bad for Jeongin, who doesn’t have the same luxury all the way out there.

Of course, Minho also remembers the sex from that night. It plays in his head on a loop, often echoing in his brain at the worst of times. The way you’d called out his name was all but intoxicating, chanting it in the empty space of the spare room like you’d done it a hundred times before. Your fingers looped through his hair, massaging his locks in praise while your moans did the rest. Your lips on his, smiling when he teased you about the game of pool- teasing him back, like the complex woman he knew you were.

He remembers the way your hardened nipples felt between his fingers, memorizing their feel with his nimble hands while he pressed his third erection of the night against you, a confession that this is what you do to me.

The way you took him with complete ease, undoubtedly craving him, too, gushing with arousal as he fit so perfectly inside you.

“You’re so big,” you’d said to him, and Minho isn’t sure he ever felt confident in his girth until it was inside of you, thrusting in and out like he was trying to make his semen catch, painting your walls white while you squirted on his still-hard cock.

He can’t get off with girls from the city unless he’s thinking of you and him, in the bar, bent over the pool table. He also avoids the spare room of the bar now, getting hard almost instantly at the sight of it.

It’s embarrassing, and he knows it, tucking his now-softened cock back into his boxers and reaching for tissues on his makeshift cardboard box nightstand. The shame washes over him as he folds his hands over his chest again, eyes locked with the shitty drywall ceiling. Have the cracks gotten bigger? He’s not sure of the large one to the left, caving in toward the window in the shape of a backwards L. If it rains, the roof will surely leak. How do you fix a leaky roof? Is it ever going to rain again? Where are you?

*

On a random Tuesday in the middle of the month, Minho runs into Jisung again.

He’s out by one of the tall buildings in the financial district, one hand shoved in the pocket of his suit while the other brings a turquoise-colored vape up to his lips.

Of course he vapes, Minho thinks. He’s just as predictable as he’s always been.

“Is that the Lee Minho?” Jisung says, blowing a cloud of strawberry-scented smoke into the air. Minho shrugs, saying nothing as he approaches Jisung.

“What are you doing all the way out here? Lost ownership of the bar or what?”

“No,” Minho replies, a stoic expression on his face. “I’m living here.”

“You’re living here? You? Avid hater of city life and all things that inhabit it?”

“Yeah,” Minho says, counting black spots on the concrete below him. “Not permanently. Just looking for something.”

“What are you looking for?”

Minho swallows momentarily. He knows he could bring up your name, and Jisung would probably know where to find you. After all, the two of you bonded over your love of the city before you almost went home with him that night. But he refrains, suddenly feeling a little jealous and overprotective. It’s the reminder that Minho was technically a second choice- maybe you’d just slept with him to get some relief for the sexual tension you felt with Jisung. You did lecture him when he cockblocked you, after all.

“Seeing if the apartments are better out here,” he settles on saying. “They’re not.”

Jisung chuckles. “Yeah, well, I could’ve easily told you that.”

He slides his vape back into the pocket of his suit, adjusting the buttons as he begins to speak again.

“When was the last time I saw you, anyway?”

Minho blinks nervously. His mind races with options of what to reply, but Jisung is faster.

“That storm!” He finally exclaims, clapping enthusiastically. “When we were stuck there while it rained fucking cats and dogs out there. You, me and Miss ‘hard to get’.”

“Right,” Minho says, his pulse quickening a little at the mention of you.

“Can you believe she backed out like that? I went back to that hotel with blue balls like you wouldn’t believe. I bet she’s a good fuck, too, the way she’s persuaded so easily.”

Minho grows irate, doing his best to refrain from lashing out at Jisung to defend you. The way he speaks about you like you’re disposable, like you weren’t only swayed by him because he puts on this act, one where he’s single and nice. Both polar opposite of the sleazy man standing in front of Minho right now.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jisung says. “I ran into her like a week after that, anyway.”

Minho feels his heart stop. He finally makes eye contact with Jisung, voice hitching in the back of his throat as he searches for words to say. What were you doing? What were you wearing? Were you with anyone? Did Jisung try to pursue you again? Was there any trace that you were as changed by Minho as he is by you?

“You did?” Minho queries.

“Yeah. She remembered me, for sure. Said she googled me and found out I was married. That’s the problem with women these days- they fucking google you. Who does that?”

Minho observes the way Jisung snorts with laughter, shaking his head like he’s not a serial cheater himself.

“Where was she?” Minho asks, quickly aware of the way the question comes off as a little too bold.

“Uh… I can’t remember. Think we were in the parking garage off 7th. She was all dressed up like she was going to work or something. Must be a private investigator with the way she stalks her potential hookups.”

Minho laughs internally at the irony.

“Why do you ask?” Jisung chimes in again, sounding a little skeptical of Minho’s behavior now.

“Nothing,” Minho says quickly. “Just curious.”

Jisung nods slowly, not taking his gaze off of Minho. He’s visibly tense, thoughts circling his mind as he tries to recall the buildings on 7th.

“I should get going,” Jisung says, pulling his vape back out to take another hit, much like the nicotine-addicted cheater Minho sees him for.

“Good catching up,” Jisung finishes, exhaling a cloud of smoke into his face. “Catch you later.”

And as Minho leaves, he turns back around to Jisung, pausing momentarily before speaking again.

“Oh, Jisung?”

“Yeah?”

Minho cocks his head slightly.

“Your wife really deserves better.”

*

The parking garage on 7th is a shithole. It’s a narrow, almost cylindrical building, filled back to back with rows of fancy cars. Minho remains parked on the third floor, sat in his car like he’s staking out the place, eyes darting over every passerby in hopes you’ll be one of them.

But they’re all middle-aged folks, blabbering into their cellphones with briefcases in hand, no sense of purpose for the life they’re living aside from money, and maybe their fancy cars.

He sighs, reaching for a cigarette and cupping his hand over the lighter to set it ablaze. Smoking is a recent development. Minho doesn’t think he’s chain-smoked like this since his culinary school days, when he’d spend late nights preparing for exams and practicing his plating techniques. It’s not that the cigarettes relieve him, nor does he even care for the flavor. But he does it as a form of sacrifice. The city keeps you from him, and consequently, he’s pulled back largely from things he actually enjoys, choosing to mirror the actions of the city-dwellers. Smoking, casual sex, drinking, dressing down, hardly ever eating full meals. He’s become reduced to a product of the disdain he feels for himself, spiraling further with every cruel reminder that you’re not his.

When his car stakeout passes the three hour mark, Minho is all out of cigarettes. He’s also starving, and dying for a beer. So he pulls out of the lot, most of the spaces vacant now, anyway, and starts the painful trip back to his apartment. The streets smell like sewage with his windows rolled down, but his own car reeks like a cheap casino. With one hand hanging loosely over the door of his car, Minho speeds down the crowded streets, groaning when he’s promptly halted by a red light. Cars press their horns impatiently as nobody seems to move. Minho glances to the right of him, scanning the streets that begin to darken as night falls. And then he sees it- a dive bar. It’s a city dive bar, of course, tainted by its rustic gentrifying decor and teeming with hipsters. But he’s sure you’re in there, knowing you probably regularly finish work and hit up the nearest bar to down Diet Cokes and chicken wings. In a frantic motion, Minho puts the car in reverse, using one hand to steer as he makes an illegal u-turn. The cars around him honk angrily, shouting profanities and pulling up to fill his spot. But he crosses several lanes to reach the bar, a sense of anticipation bubbling inside him already.

*

The place is much fancier than Minho’s, albeit much smaller. An open bar makes up most of the dive bar itself, a sleek laminate wood finish surrounding the series of draft beer dispensers. The wall above the bar is plastered in license plates from all different regions, and the patrons around all appear to be tourists judging by the way they take photos of it. There are several bartenders working tonight, the nearest one to Minho being a heavily tattooed gentleman with bleach blonde hair.

“What can I get you?” He asks enthusiastically, holding a pen and pad in his hand. Minho’s not sure he’s ever seen a bartender write down an order for a single beer.

When the bartender makes his way to the tap, Minho sits on one of the circular red stools. They’re a little too tall for his liking, swiveling around erratically while he catches his balance and glances around at the patrons. He’s the only one alone here, standing out even more in his loose jeans and an old jersey.

“That’s $12,” the bartender says when he returns.

“Can I just run a tab?” Minho asks, scoffing internally at the steep price.

“First drink’s upfront payment,” the bartender replies, flipping a tablet around to Minho for his payment details. Minho swipes his card and confidently smashes the ‘no tip’ button, earning a little eye roll from the bartender. These bars are nothing like his back home.

When the bartender moves away to attend to another patron, Minho swivels around on his stool, scanning the bar for a sign of you. There’s not a single cup of coke on any of the tables here. Everyone’s happily sipping away at whiskeys and vermouths, their drinks clutched closely in hand as they chat about their boring lives. Minho tunes in briefly to a conversation about someone’s broken toe and sighs, wishing so badly he had you to converse with. You’d probably laugh at all of Minho’s jokes about the people here, agreeing with his presumptions of them. See him? He’s definitely compensating. That guy there needs to cool off the vodka seltzers. She’s definitely not interested in him.

As he takes a sip from his mug of beer, it suddenly catches his eye. The arcade game, tucked away in the back of the bar like a little secret. It’s neglected, probably no one around old enough to know how to operate the thing. Minho rises from his seat, making his way to the game and smiling at the sight.

It reminds him of you, the giant black display of Galaga, decorated with whimsical drawings of aliens and Galaxian Flagships. He pulls out a quarter, slotting it in the machine, because of course you have to pay at this one, and slots it in, waiting for the thing to start up.

Only it doesn’t, the game not even emitting so much as a hum from the monitor. He smacks it a few times, partly in efforts to start it up, and partly to reclaim his last quarter. But it’s a moot effort- the game is completely dead.

Minho makes his way back to the bar, frustrated at the deja vu of broken arcade games and the memories they bring back to him.

“Your game’s broken,” Minho says to the bleach blonde bartender.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. That thing’s been dead for months now.”

“I put a quarter in. Swallowed it and won’t spit it out.”

“Yeah, it does that. Sorry, man.”

“Sorry? You should be. That thing shouldn’t be down here if it isn’t working.”

The bartender narrows his eyes as he mixes another drink for a patron.

“Yeah, well, people don’t usually try it. Again, sorry man. Not really anything I can do about it.”

Minho is angry now, his ears flushed a crimson shade as he speaks, not in any mood to reason with the bartender.

“Look man, just give me my quarter. Can’t you key the machine or something?”

“We don’t have access to it. It’s from some local vendor. You’re welcome to go find a few pennies on the ground if the 25 cents means so much to you.”

“What the fuck kind of behavior is that for a bartender?”

The other patrons and bartenders have noticed now, quieting down as they watch Minho down a few more sips of his beer angrily.

“Look man, you’re gonna have to leave. I can’t have you in here acting like this.”

“I want my quarter.”

“I can’t get your quarter, dude. It’s gone. Get out before I call the police.”

“Why don’t you hire someone to fix the machine, then? There are people in the city who do that, you know. I know someone who’d get it fixed in seconds. She’d be able to get the fucking quarter out, too.”

“Call the police,” the bartender says to another, and Minho raises his hands up in surrender.

“Relax, I’m leaving.” He chugs the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as the other patrons look on in shock. Nearby, a different bartender has a phone clutched in his hand, ready to dial the cops like they’d requested.

“Tell me one thing,” Minho says before turning around.

The man says nothing, eyes narrowed in fear as he waits for Minho to finish.

“You guys sell Diet Coke here?”

The bartenders look around at each other nervously, confused at the question.

“We only have Pepsi,” one chimes in.

And Minho nods, understanding.

“Take care,” Minho says, waving them off as he finally exits the bar.

*

“I need you to come back for a little bit,” Jeongin says into the receiver one morning. He sounds panicked, like he might break down at any moment. Minho knows he wouldn’t request this of him if it wasn't something serious.

“Okay,” Minho replies. “What happened?”

“The place was robbed last night. By a group of guys. Nobody’s hurt, but they did have a knife on them. Cleared out one of the registers.”

Minho sighs, suddenly feeling awful about being out here. What is he doing out here when the business he owns is being threatened? Even worse, putting Jeongin and the other staff at risk while he embarks on the futile task of searching for what’s already gone? There’s no good explanation for it. It’s selfish- sure, he’s finally chasing after what he wants, but it’s a selfish task nonetheless.

“I can be there this evening,” Minho says, already mentally preparing himself for the six hour drive out there. “Just close up for the day. Make sure everyone gets home safe and knows they’ll be paid for the day anyway.”

Jeongin understands, hanging up on his end of the line and closing up the bar.

As Minho tosses his cell phone aside, he looks around the apartment, sighing heavily when he observes the state of things. His stuff is still stored away in cardboard boxes, the apartment looking more like a showroom than a space lived-in by him. The walls remain bare of any form of decorations, the tiny excuse for a kitchen is void of dishes and cutlery, even his toiletries are in travel bags, like he’s ready to go home at any given moment. And he just might be, after this week’s events.

*

The drive home is as excruciating as he remembers it. Exiting the city means sitting in miles of traffic, alongside impatient city-dwellers who somehow voluntarily make the commute everyday for their jobs. Minho briefly wonders if you’re in the traffic, too. You’re a little impatient, he remembers, thinking about how you demanded a phone charger from him that night in the bar. Only your impatience is something he’d gladly put up with in traffic like this, probably taking the opportunity to play his favorite songs for you and listen to you talk his ear off. He sighs to himself, wishing so badly you could fill the empty leather seat next to him, currently inhabited by empty cigarette boxes and discarded takeout boxes.

Six agonizing hours later, the sun’s beginning to set as Minho pulls into the familiar parking lot of the bar. Waning beams of sunlight reflect off the old bar sign, almost luring Minho inside as the nighttime chases closely after. When he unlocks the door and makes his way inside, it’s like he never left. The red booths are vacant, the peeling vinyl of their seats still scattered across the floor like he remembers. Bottles of alcohol neatly line the shelves behind the counter, which don’t reside far from the shiny mugs and glasses inside the cabinets. Minho runs a finger over the counter, well impressed with the state of the bar since Jeongin’s taken over. It’s impeccable, almost better than it was when Minho first left.

“Minho?” A voice calls, and a figure peeks from around the corner.

It’s Jeongin, who looks different in casual wear for the day, sporting a pair of sweatpants and a simple black t-shirt. He’s wearing his signature pair of thick framed glasses, running a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on one of the barstools.

“It was this register,” he says, gesturing to the one closest to Minho. “I think it was roughly $300 in there. They all had dark jackets and I couldn’t see their faces.”

Minho nods, opening the register to investigate, and then slumps back in the stool behind the counter.

“I’ll take the remaining cash to the safe. Let’s stay closed for a few days while I file a police report. They’ll probably want to poke around in here, and I don’t want any of the patrons to panic.”

It’s Jeongin’s turn to nod, making a mental note of Minho’s instructions. After a brief pause, he speaks again.

“How’s the city?”

“The city is…the city.”

Jeongin chuckles lightly, shaking his head.

“Are you working?”

Minho nods. “Not my private chef gig. But it’s a restaurant. I have a sous chef, which helps. It’s nothing special, though.”

There’s a moment of silence as Jeongin traces the table pattern with his fingers. He wants to ask more from him- he wants to know why Minho’s out there in the first place, why he even agreed to sign co-ownership off to Jeongin when this was his bar he was so proud of for all those years. But there’s seemingly no courteous way to go about it- any which way, he feels like he’s overstepping. Minho is usually on the quieter side, only confiding in his colleagues when it’s something that affects the business.

“Minho, are you…” he begins, his voice wavering in fear that he’ll unintentionally offend.

“Have you found what you’re looking for?”

Minho is silent, and for a second, it’s hard for Jeongin to gauge his reaction. His eyes remain locked on Jeongin’s pupils, trembling in discomfort as he thinks back to you. He thinks of the city, of the bar fight, of the hours spent in a dingy parking garage and the cracks in his apartment ceiling.

Jeongin begins to take back his question, disappointed in himself he’s even chosen to utter the inquiry. But Minho finally does give an answer, albeit a vague one.

“Not yet,” he replies, swallowing nervously before continuing. “You’ll be the first to know.”

When Jeongin leaves, he takes the cozy atmosphere of the bar with him, and the place now feels colder, more unfamiliar. Minho looks out the window at the darkness that envelopes the parking lot, feeling a sense of unease in knowing he’s going to leave it all behind again. This bar needs him, it needs stability. It needs someone to look out for the people who are vulnerable to sleazy married men or robbers. As he pockets the cash to transfer to the safe, he glances at the yellow Pac-Man game, sitting proudly where it has for the past three months since its repair. Little ghosts dance along the display screen, prompting users with ‘press A to start’.

Minho simply walks past it, knowing very well there’s little joy in a game that only brings back painful reminders. He makes his way to the back office, where the red leather couch and desk still remain. The cash is deposited in the safe, and the keys in the file cabinet- third drawer from the top.

Minho feels a gravitational pull to the spare room upstairs- he knows he shouldn’t, very well aware that he’s only hurting himself by picturing you up there. But still he does. Hands shoved in his pockets, he makes his way up the creaking stairs and through the little hallway.

The room is just as suffocating as he remembers it. The same old pool table sits in the middle of the room, and at the back where the arcade game previously lived, there’s a rectangle on the carpeted floor where it once sat, contrasting a bright untouched green to the older, worn down carpet. Minho doesn’t leave the doorway; he just stands, observing the room in all its mundane appearance. His eyes remain on the spot you’d previously hoisted yourself up to sit on the pool table, and he can almost see himself looming over you, too. From this angle, it doesn’t feel like it ever happened. It plays more like a cheap movie where a famous scene was shot. Like a figment of his imagination.

Have you found what you’re looking for?

He hasn’t, not yet. But seeing the potential of this old room, in the bar he owns, Minho knows it’s finally time to stop searching.

*

Back in the city, Minho’s days are numbered by the countdown. Two days until he’ll leave all this behind, for good this time.

The kitchen is busier than normal on this gloomy Thursday, more staff than usual working floor while others make trips up to hotel rooms for delivery.

Minho drizzles pans with olive oil in between plating a shrimp scampi, tonight’s special. The air is thick and fragrant with seafood and Parmesan cheese.

“I need a lava cake for room 302!” Seungmin exclaims to Minho in a rushed tone.

“On the cart by the door. Second row.”

Cooks work diligently in their respective areas, and Minho wipes his brow with the back of his sleeve. It’s a stressful role, no doubt, but he still feels a sense of sadness knowing he won’t be back to cooking like this once he’s back in town. He tries to mentally prepare himself for days of mixers and signature cocktails again.

“Minho, get out of here and go take a lunch,” Seungmin says as he reappears from behind the door. “That way the schedule doesn’t rearrange.”

Seungmin is a blunt sous chef, but he’s dedicated to his work. Minho knows he’ll have no problem working his way up to a head chef role one day. He appreciates his attention to detail and ability to work with difficult patrons, and he’d certainly entertain the idea of bringing him to work at the bar back home if he liked.

“On it,” Minho says, already pulling off his apron.

“Oh, and can you bring a Diet Coke to table 6 out there? I brought regular on accident.”

“Yup,” he says plainly, grabbing a clear glass from the clean stack and filling it at the fountain.

Minho thinks back to his apartment- this might be his last day at work, but he still has a generous amount of packing to do when he gets home. He’s relieved he kept most of his stuff in boxes, or else he’d easily be stuck here another week.

Minho counts boxes in his head, balancing the glass in one hand and his apron in another as he exits the kitchen to the seating area. He’s seldom out here, only really passing through when he gets in for the day. But he’s not in charge of serving guests, and the whole thing suddenly feels a little uncomfortable to him. Quiet jazz music plays overhead as tables fill the room with noise of their conversations, everyone dressed up with legs crossed neatly under white tablecloths.

Minho looks around frantically as beads of condensation on the glass wet his hand- where the hell is table 6?

A family sits at the back, every member paired with their drink of choice. An older couple sits closer to Minho, two cups of coffee steaming in front of them.

And by the window, two women deep in conversation- one of them passionately sharing tales of work or perhaps a lover.

And the other one, you.

Minho thinks he’s hallucinating for a moment, when he first observes you sitting there. You’re nodding as the other woman talks, a smile pulling on your face as she exaggeratedly makes a hand motion during her story. You’re not dressed like the other city-dwellers here, looking starkly more beautiful in a sweater and a pair of jeans. You’re the only one in here wearing jeans, aside from Minho. He smiles when he takes notice.

Another server passes Minho in a rush, shoving by him with a tray of food in hand.

“Oh sorry,” he says, eyeing him a little confused. “Did you want me to take that? I know you’re on lunch.”

Minho grips the coke firmly in his hand, shaking his head almost immediately. He’s never refused something so fast in his life before.

“No, I got it,” he says, finally taking the first step toward your table.

Minho glances down at his appearance briefly, fixing the collar of his shirt as he approaches you. He’s a little more dressed up for his last day here, a pastel blue button-up tucked into his jeans, his now long hair parted down the middle. He wishes he could tuck back into the bathroom and see himself more clearly, but he knows he’ll lose you if he doesn’t make his move now.

Minho’s thought of this moment so many times, replayed the conversation in his head like a speech he’s been waiting to give. He wants to proclaim his adoration for you, giving you a romantic explanation of how he’s searched for you all these months and never stopped thinking of you. And in an ideal scenario, you’d say the same, kissing him in front of all the restaurant-goers here and leaving back to town with him to live happily ever after.

But he’s never considered the idea of a friend being present. Or being crunched for time on a 30-minute lunch break. It’s all happening so fast, and his head spins with anxiety as he approaches you.

You’re still in conversation when he sets your Diet Coke down at the table a little too hard, hoping to get your attention. You don’t so much as look his way as he does, and he lingers by your table for a moment as he thinks.

“Do you need a straw?” Minho asks, eyes darting over your face briefly. Your hair is a little longer, too, but you look the same. He’s sure you’re not a hallucination.

“No thank you,” you say, finally glancing over at him to give a small nod.

And just like he’s lost for more words, you seem to be too, lips parting slightly as you keep your gaze fixed on his.

*

“Thank you for lunch,” you say to your colleague at the end of the meal, who’s been passionately talking about her recent project at work for the last hour.

You tuned her out after the first 15 minutes, being completely awestruck when the server delivered your requested Diet Coke to your table.

Either the brain fog from work is finally starting to catch up with you, or you’re simply too tired. But the server looks exactly like Lee Minho, the bartender you slept with a few months ago. Normally, you’d tuck away and hide at the sight of running into a hookup again. But Minho wasn’t just a hookup to you.

He’s lingered amongst your thoughts for the better part of those three months, the polite action of protecting you from sleeping with a married man and letting you seek shelter in the storm remaining some of the nicest things someone’s ever done for you.

He wasn’t just a hookup, not with the way he spoke of his hopes and dreams and asked about all of yours. And then he fucked you like a husband, the feeling you got from him bending you over the pool table like that still sending chills down your spine.

Your colleague pulls her scarf and coat on, nodding as she gestures to the door. The lunch rush has died down by now, and most of the tables are vacant as the streets bustle with people returning to work.

“I’m gonna grab a meal to-go,” you tell her. “I’ll meet you back at the office. Thank you again for lunch!”

Fortunately for you, she doesn’t question it, leaving you to order as she heads back to the office.

Minho is nowhere to be seen, only one server present on the floor as it’s more empty now.

“Can I help you?” A voice asks, and you’re met with the warm smile of the singular server.

“I… I wanted to give my compliments to the chef,” you say, sounding a little unsure of yourself.

“I’ll be sure to do that, thank you very much,” he replies, bowing when he finishes.

“I meant my personal thanks,” you clarify, and he furrows his brows in response.

“Uh… sure, I can ask him. Do you know if it was the head chef?”

“His name’s Lee Minho,” you say with a smile. “He’s probably the head chef.”

*

Minho’s sous chef runs his kitchen like the navy, you quickly learn, as he ushers for you to leave soon after Minho exits the kitchen due to the impending dinner rush.

There’s no time to catch up with him, only being able to utter a short “thanks for the meal,” as he waits for you to speak.

But he recognizes you, his gaze staying on yours a little too long as he nervously bows.

“Y/n,” he says in response, the action saying nothing and yet so much at the same time.

And you smile back at him, relieved he still remembers.

As Seungmin calls for him a second time, you pull a pen from the pocket of his apron, scribbling your address on a napkin from one of the tables.

He nods back at you, napkin clutched in hand, as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

And for a brief moment, neither of you can make out the implications of the action. An invitation for sex? A date to catch up? The details are blurry to both of you. But you hope he shows, and Minho already knows he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

*

As you fix your hair in front of the mirror that evening, memories of Minho play in your mind like they did after the night you spent together. You know you had to leave- it wasn’t something you decided lightly, but you and him are fated for different things. And who are you to intervene where the stars align? Minho deserves someone who will be available for him, someone uncomplicated and willing to inhabit the place he loves so dearly.

You, on the other hand, have a historical bad run with men, and so pursuing Minho would be uncharacteristic. But also unfair to him. It’s clear from that night that your worst traits will always remain the most significant parts of you- impatience, judgment and naivety. And while Minho comes off as curt, he’s anything but. He’s too good for you. You’re just a byproduct of this city- everything he despises. It would be over before it even started.

Minho shows at exactly a quarter to nine, knocking twice at the door as he waits out in the hallway for you.

When you unlatch the door, he perks up from nervously staring at the carpeted floor, adjusting his collar and clearing his throat. He looks more casual than you’ve probably ever seen him before, in a striped gray and black top, layered with a black collared shirt and dark ripped jeans. He also looks particularly handsome tonight, but also different, noticeably thinner in his face where his cheekbones protrude generously, his hair a little longer now.

“Hi,” Minho says plainly, his gaze fixated on yours in an almost trance-like state.

“Hi,” you reply, unsure of where to start. “Come in, please.”

You step aside, ushering him into your apartment and shutting the door behind you both. Minho looks around, impressed with the state of your apartment in comparison with his. There are cherry wood bookshelves lining the walls, filled top to bottom with stacks of old novels and textbooks. Colorful modern paintings decorate the walls, which are admittedly much taller than his own, and cozy lighting fills every room in the space.

Minho bows a little, handing you a bottle, and you smile in amusement as you scan the contents. A single liter of Diet Coke.

“You remembered,” you say, endeared by the simple action.

“So you don’t waste your calories,” he replies with a small smile, echoing the statement you told him so many months ago.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” you tell him. Minho takes note of the shakiness in your voice, a little relieved that you seem to be as nervous as he is. It’s certainly not a matter of picking up where you left off when you both have your walls up like this, but he prefers the silence to your absence any day.

You disappear into the kitchen, pouring both of you glasses of Diet Coke as Minho settles on the edge of the couch. He folds his hands in his lap and blinks nervously, trying so hard to remember everything he’s wanted to confess to you since returning here. But in this proximity to you, in your own home, everything suddenly seems like a bad idea. He feels dramatic, overbearing, trying to make sense of this. Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

When you return, Minho takes a deep breath, quietly thanking you for the beverage when you place it on the coffee table in front of him. And then as he feared, a silence washes over both of you.

You take a sip of your coke, waiting for him to speak, and similarly, he waits for you. You’d forgotten, briefly. That Minho is inherently a quiet guy. It’d been you who brought his walls down, challenged him to a game of pool and even instigated the argument when he told Jisung to leave the bar. As he blinks at you a few times, you realize it may be his way of asking you to do it again, to help him feel comfortable again.

“Your Italian food is on par with your chicken wings,” you say to him, finally breaking the silence. “Think you need to add shrimp scampi to your bar menu.”

Minho smiles, and the whole room seems to brighten up when he does. His eyes turn to little crescents, his grin flashing you the skewed front teeth you were so endeared by when you first met him. His presence feels like the bar did- safe, familiar.

“It’s not my best work,” he replies. “It’s just a temporary job. But I do have a sous chef here, which is a plus.”

“The one with the nice smile? I know, he almost kicked me out for asking to see you. He’s very deceiving.”

You and Minho share laughter, recalling how Seungmin yelled at you several times at the restaurant today. When your laughter dies down, he swallows nervously, unsure of how to proceed.

“Thanks for… giving your compliments today,” he says. He really wants to say ‘thank you for seeing me again’.

“I knew I recognized you,” you say back to him. “I was surprised to see you here in the city. I guess I just wanted some confirmation it was really you.”

“It’s me,” Minho says sheepishly. You smile at him, feeling a little sorry at the way his tone sounds so unsure.

“What are you doing in the city, anyway?” You ask.

Minho isn’t sure what to say. In an alternate timeline, he’d like to tell you he came for you. But he knows he’ll come off as a creep, and the last thing he wants is to lose you again.

“Just wanted a break from the suburbs,” he settles on saying.

“Do you like it?”

He toys with a frayed hem on the throw pillow beside him, shaking his head a little hesitantly.

“If I say no, you’ll think less of me.”

He regrets the words as soon as they leave his lips, not wanting you to think he came here for you to pity him. In fact, the reality is quite the opposite.

“I would never think less of you,” you assure him with a gentle smile. “You’re allowed to have your opinions.”

Minho nods, not entertaining the subject anymore.

“How’s the bar?”

“It’s okay,” Minho says, sighing a little as he thinks back to recent events. “It was robbed just the other night.”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you say to him with widened eyes. “Is everyone… okay?”

“Everyone’s okay,” he affirms. “Just lost some money. I’m working with the police on it, so hopefully we’ll have someone arrested if we’re lucky.”

You nod at his words, feeling disheartened at the mention of the robbery. Although you’re not particularly fond of the suburbs, the bar is a sacred space for you, and knowing he and the staff were put in that situation makes you uneasy.

“How’s work?” Minho asks, and you chuckle at the question.

“Nothing special. I did get a promotion last month, but I’m only making a few dollars more than I was last time we met. Nothing to write home about.”

“We’ll congratulations anyway,” Minho says, raising his glass of Diet Coke. “Well deserved.”

“Thank you,” you say, clinking your glass against his and letting the cool carbonated beverage soothe the nerves still present in your demeanor.

“Oh, you’ll never believe it! I ran into Jisung out here,” you say to Minho with a scoff. “He tried to pursue me again, the bastard. I’m pretty sure he was even wearing a wedding ring this time. I had to tell him I found out he was married on-”

“On Google,” Minho finishes your sentence. “He told me.”

“You saw him too?”

“Yeah, just the other day. He’s just as obnoxious as he was three months ago.”

You smile at Minho, briefly reminded of the way you were able to bond with him as a result of Jisung’s antics.

“I never got to say thank you,” you say a little quietly, averting his gaze. “For that night. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you there to help me.”

He looks down, pondering your words for a moment.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to. Trust me. But I figured…” your voice trails off, trying desperately to decipher how to word your sentiment politely.

“Figured what?” He says, looking back up at you. His eyes tremble a little in anticipation for your reply.

“I figured we’re just different people.”

Minho nods, pursing his lips together as he replays your words.

“And by that you mean that you’re a successful member of the city, and I’m just a bartender.”

Your face drops at his words, suddenly panicked that he’s come here because he’s angry at you. You would never think less of him for being a bartender- hell, you wouldn’t even think less of him if he was unemployed. You’re not sure you could think less of him if you tried.

“That’s not what I mean. And you know that.”

Minho narrows his eyes a little, challenging you.

“Then what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you begin, sighing before continuing to speak. “That I’m everything you despise. I let people down. I’m not inherently a good person, the way you are. You know how I stormed in there demanding a phone charger? Fighting you at the bar because you wouldn’t let me sleep with a married man? That’s the kind of person I am. I’m impatient, and naive and I’m nothing like the girls you’re used to.”

“How do you know what I’m used to?”

“Come on, Minho,” you say, and the conversation finally begins to sound a little more natural between the two of you. “You said it yourself- I’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible. Who’s to say that doesn’t apply to people, too?”

“You’re nothing like you say you are,” Minho interrupts, and you can feel yourself getting frustrated at his words.

“How would you know that? Because you slept with me in a bar? I’m not this dream girl you think I am, Minho. I was looking out for you. You deserve better.”

Minho says nothing for a moment, swirling Coke around in his cup and watching the bubbles fizzle away as they hit the rim of the glass. He shakes his head a little to himself, and then he begins to speak again.

“You want to know why I came out here again?”

You remain silent, already knowing what he’s going to say. But to your surprise, his answer is a little more complex.

“I came out here because I wanted to. I wanted to work as a chef again. I wanted new colleagues, I wanted a different view and I was tired of being stuck in that little bar.”

You don’t reply to his statement, waiting for him to continue.

“And do you know why finding you was something I held onto so dearly?”

“Why?” You ask, the question coming out in a shaky tone. He takes a deep breath before he answers.

“I wanted to thank you. I wanted to tell you all about it. To tell you that you were right- sometimes, simple isn’t better. Sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again. I wouldn’t have done any of this if someone really cool didn’t walk into my bar and make it clear to me. I guess part of me just hoped you were changed by it, too.”

Your expression softens at his words, feeling awful for the way this conversation has gone so far. It’s not your intention to hurt him- in fact, you feel particularly protective of Minho.

“I came looking for you, too,” you say after a moment of silence, and Minho perks up at your words.

“You did?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “I visited your bar. Twice since that night. I asked for you both times. The guy said you weren’t there anymore. I think after the second time, I took it as a sign to stop trying.”

“Jeongin?” Minho says, furrowing his brows together in visible confusion.

“He was blonde, a little small. Freckles.”

“Felix,” Minho says, chuckling lightly. “He’s a new hire. Jeongin would’ve told you differently. I have co-ownership with him now.”

You nod, folding your hands in your lap.

“I was changed by it,” you say, finally letting your gaze meet his. “I never stopped thinking about you. But it scares me. In so many ways, you’re everything I tried to run from when I left the suburbs. I don’t think I was ever good enough for any of it- all I cared about was money, and my work and finding an apartment with a nice enough view of the city. I didn’t care about the memories I made there, or that there’s genuinely good people. I didn’t even visit my parents very often. You reminded me that there’s more to it than just that. There’s more to the past than its negative aspects. So thank you, too.”

Minho is quiet for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do- how to keep you around. But in this moment, it’s clear to him- he has to let you go. He said what he had to say. He’s done the search, all three months of it, and he found you. He validated his own emotions and made sense of yours- you were just as changed by it as he was. But maybe that’s enough- perhaps the rest is just wishful thinking.

“Looks like we felt the same about it, then,” he says with a small smile, sitting up from the sofa and making his way to peer out the large glass window in your living room.

“And by the way, you definitely succeeded with the view out here. Mine’s just a brick wall.”

You chuckle, making your way over to the window and standing next to him to take in the view, too.

“It’s nice, right? All of the east side is visible from up here.”

“See that down there?” Minho points. “Visited that dive bar the other day. It sucks if you’re wondering.”

“CJ’s? Yeah, it’s kind of a shithole. They don’t even serve Diet Coke.”

Minho chuckles lightly, a little sadness evident in his tone.

“You know, maybe if you swung by and fixed their little arcade game, they’d supply you some. Probably something to do with all the ABC’s.”

“The what?” You query, furrowing your brows together and chuckling as he speaks.

“The little gidgets inside. You know, with the pins.”

You pause to think for a moment, mentally mapping out the circuit inside.

“The EPROMs,” you say finally.

Minho feels his breath hitch in his throat as you utter the acronym. It sounds so unfamiliar, and yet so familiar to him at the same time. He suddenly remembers that night, in the spare room, hearing you say it for the first time.

“The what?” He replies gently, not removing his gaze from the window.

“The EPROMs,” you clarify, a little louder this time.

“Say it again,” Minho breathes, a small smile painted on his face now.

“EPROMs?” You question, turning to face him, visibly confused.

“Yeah, those. What’s it stand for, anyway?” Minho finally asks, turning to face you. You face him, too, endeared by the curiosity he’s displayed for that game repair since the first night you met.

“Erasable programmable read-only memory,” you explain, aware of how close he is in proximity to you now. His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back up again, his plump lips pulling into a knowing smile as you speak. He knows he’s wandering into dangerous territory now, but he can’t help it- not when it’s you who makes him feel like this.

“God, it sounds so sexy when you say it,” Minho says sheepishly.

And he knows he shouldn’t entertain it- he’s well aware that his intention is to walk out of here and get on with his life, comfortable with the knowledge that you’d sought him out, too. But he can’t help himself when you’re this close to him, talking circuit repair so intelligently and erotically.

So without another question to stutter, or a fight to be had, he closes the gap between you two, pressing his lips onto yours and kissing you one last time.

You don’t protest the action, instantly tangling your hands in his tresses and reciprocating with the same hungry, passionate kisses he delivers. Maybe it’s the long hair, or the ripped jeans, but part of you also wonders if he’s been dying to kiss you tonight as badly as you’ve been craving him. The flavor is reminiscent of the bar to you, on that pool table like the first time you kissed him. He tastes like mint, enveloping your tongue with hints of Diet Coke while he nibbles on your bottom lip between kisses.

Without any sort of end goal in mind, your hands snake down to his collared shirt, which you tug on hungrily, and then begin to push off his torso. Minho smiles into the kiss, reaffirmed that you want him just the same, and he pulls away momentarily to complete the task of pulling off his button down.

Underneath, his striped t-shirt is cut off generously at the shoulders, completely exposing his arms to you. You almost gasp at the sight of his toned arms jutting out, veins running along his forearms and flexing with each movement. Minho chuckles softly when he takes notice, amused at your reaction.

When his button down shirt is fully off, he kisses you again, hands finding their way to your waist as he pushes himself against you, desperate to feel you against him. You walk backwards, cupping his face between your hands and leading him toward your bedroom.

For a fleeting moment, you’re nervous to take it any further than this, the last person you slept with being Minho himself. You can’t remember which undergarments you wore, or what your bedroom decor looks like to anyone except yourself. But Minho’s kisses shut you up, his lips moving against yours with desire and passion, and you don’t want to do anything except this, right here.

When you’ve made it to the bed, you pull away, crossing your arms over your torso and pulling your sweater off over your head. You’re in a lacy black bra, you realize, because of course you thought to dress for him. Minho blinks a few times, crossing his own arms over his torso and finally pulling his shirt over his head.

It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Minho without his shirt before- he wore that white button down in the bar, only allowing you to see a generous amount of his collarbones. But standing in front of you like this, he’s breathtaking, his toned torso and his sharp collar bones complementing his sculpted thighs and arms so perfectly.

When he takes notice of you staring at him, one hand flies down to his mid-torso, where he spreads a palm out over the skin, seemingly in an attempt to cover something. You take one step forward, gently placing a hand over his and moving it so that his torso is exposed again. And across his tanned skin, a pale pink scar catches your eye, not very noticeable from your previous distance, but definitely perceptible when you observe his body long enough.

“Minho,” you coo, running your hand along the scar and tracing it with your fingertips. “You’re beautiful,” you say to him after a moment, smiling up at him sincerely.

Minho’s heart almost stops in its place, overwhelmed with his emotions for you, to be here with you, the desire to make love to you eating away at his mind like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

And if it is, he’d die a happy man.

His lips crash against yours again, hands snaking down to your jeans, where he unbuttons them, your hands meeting his to help pull them down. While you take over, he unbuckles his belt, snaking the leather out from around his waist and undoing his buttons. It’s then that he pushes you gently against the bed, hoisting your legs up so that you’re at a comfortable angle, finally propping himself above you and working kisses down your neck. He nibbles your flesh between his teeth the way he did before, beginning to work purple bruises around your throat. And you let him, without protest, because you’re desperate for a reminder that he’s here, that he’s yours. Minho smiles against your neck when he feels you moan softly at the sensation, satisfied with the way you melt at his touch.

“Minho,” you call, and he brings his lips to press a chaste kiss to yours again.

“What is it, baby?” He coos gently, pressing a series of kisses to your lips before you speak again.

“I never should have left,” you reply, toying with a strand of his hair around your fingers in a pleading manner. Your chest is heavy with guilt, tears almost pricking at your eyes as he looms over you like this.

He chuckles softly, kissing you for a moment before grazing his lips over yours again, speaking just above a whisper.

“I’m here,” he says. “I’m right where you left me.”

And it’s your turn to kiss him, crashing your lips against his again as tears fall from the corners of your eyes. Minho takes notice when the salty taste of them dance along his tongue, kissing them back up your face and holding you a little closer to him. His hands wrap around the small of your back to find the clasp of your bra, skillfully undoing it with one hand and pulling away from you to discard it on the floor. It’s Minho’s turn to stare, running one hand down your clavicles until he’s grazing your nipples with his fingers.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat with anticipation, before he finally dips his middle finger down over one of your hardened nipples, earning a stifled gasp from you. He works little circles over your nipple with one finger, the gentle stimulation making you gasp into his mouth as he kisses you again.

And then he moves back to your neck, kissing over the bruises he sucked into your flesh, trailing lower and lower until he’s just above your breasts. You look down at him with bated breath, almost clenching at the way his lips exhale little breaths against your nipples, making them even harder. With his eyes on yours, he finally lowers himself, latching both lips around your breast and sucking.

Your back arches up into him instinctively, the feeling of his teeth grazing your skin sending divine shivers up your spine. In a sudden motion, his tongue swirls around your bud, the cold sensation causing you to moan fervently. He smiles with your flesh between his teeth, while your hands tangle themselves in his hair and massage him encouragingly.

It feels so primal, so natural to have his mouth all over you, your legs pressing together to calm the ache between your legs. He takes his time on one breast, only coming up to press a kiss in the valley of your breasts and then moving to give attention to the other one. You could stay here for hours, like this, if it wasn’t for the pulsing reminder in your groin that you want to feel him inside of you.

“Please,” you say gently, pressing your legs together and squeezing in efforts to relieve yourself.

Minho chuckles softly, letting go from your nipple with a gentle sucking sound, a string of spit hanging from his lips as he looks up at you with hooded eyes.

“I want to feel you inside me again,” you admit shyly, tenderly running your nails along the back of his neck. Minho’s lips meet yours again, and his hands quickly find their way to the hem of your underwear, sliding them down and pulling away to discard them on the floor.

He’s promptly reminded of how needy and vocal you are, smiling down at you as you pull his face back to yours and swirl your tongue around his. But truth be told, he’s just as needy as you are, equally reminded of how much he’s touched himself to the thought of this and secretly prayed he’d be able to make love to you again. And now here, his lips on yours, it’s finally happening, his rock-hard erection proof that it’s always been you.

As you arch up into him, one leg wrapping around his to push him even closer against you, your hand snakes down to his erection, palming him through his boxers. Minho groans at the contact, his lips parting a little as he winces in pleasure.

“You’re so hard,” you say with a smile, pleased at his evidently equal desperation for you.

“All for you,” Minho replies, running one hand down your stomach to rub little circles on your clit, causing you to moan in pleasure.

“Ah- fuck,” you breathe out, contorting against him, desperate for him to fill you up. “Please, Minho, want to feel you inside me,” you pant against him, pleading for the second time now.

He remains like that for a moment, working little circles onto your clit as he observes the way your eyebrows arch up in pleasure.

“Want me to fill you up?” He asks, cocking his head with yours as you grasp his forearm.

“Yes, please,” you reply, trying your best to stave off your orgasm until he’s inside of you.

And without teasing you any further, Minho pulls away from you to slide off his boxers, his cock springing up against his abdomen in anticipation for you. You prop yourself up on your elbows, in awe at the sight as he tosses his boxers aside and leans down to kiss you again.

“Lay down,” Minho orders sweetly, and you do as you’re told, exhaling once to calm your steadily beating pulse.

“Is this still okay?” Minho asks, caressing your shoulder with concern as you wait for his next move.

“Yes,” you say, giving a half smile to him when he rubs his thumb along your cheek lovingly. He smiles back at you, giving one small peck to your lips before hoisting himself up and wrapping one hand around his cock.

You watch as Minho wraps his slender fingers around the base of his cock, pumping a few times before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. The sensation causes him to breathe a few gasps into your mouth, Minho also trying his best to stave his release until he’s inside of you.

“Gonna put it in now, okay?” He asks, breaking away to part your thighs. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

But you don’t- not when you’re this wet for him, this desperate to finally feel him fill you up again, like you’ve fantasized for so long.

A strand of his hair falls into his face as he finally guides his cock inside of you, rubbing your clit as he thrusts in fully and bottoms out. You gasp at his size, almost having forgotten just how thick he is, the stretch making your head spin with pleasure. When he gauges your reaction, he begins to move with you slowly, giving gentle thrusts while you wrap your arms around his back.

The bed creaks as he moves in and out of your sopping pussy, emitting lewd sloshing sounds as he leans down to kiss you, your tongues and mouths doing much of the same. You can hardly kiss him back, your lips already dribbling strings of drool in fucked-out satisfaction from him filling you up like this.

“Fuck… baby… you’re so tight,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Feels so good,” you breathe back, gripping his shoulder a little bit when he picks up his pace. “No one fucks me the way you do,” you say to him, and his cock twitches inside of you at the admission.

“Fuck,” Minho says again. “I dreamt of you for so long,”

“Me too,” you say, reaching up to move a stray piece of hair out from in front of his eyes between your heavy breathing. “I wish I came looking for you again. God, I wasted so much time.”

Minho kisses you, burying his lips in the crook of your neck to caress the bruises he’s already left.

“I never stopped searching for you,” he breathes out against your skin. “It’s you, it’s always been you.”

His words make your heart flutter as he continues to thrust in and out of you, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust now. Your moans get louder as he picks up the pace, digging his nails into your waist as he holds you in place. Between kisses, he caresses your thigh with his hand, positioning it up and bending your leg at the knee beside him. You moan instantly at the new angle, his length caressing every inch of your pussy, his girth stretching you out with every thrust inside of you and tickling your pulsing clit as he moves against your hips.

“Good girl,” Minho says, smiling against you as he kisses you. “Take me so well.”

Your nails dig into his back as he thrusts a little faster now, the rhythmic motion sending shivers up your spine.

“I’m close,” you breathe out, and judging by the way Minho’s cock twitches inside of you, he is too.

“Will you do that thing again?” You ask in a shaky voice between moans, and Minho lets out a breathy chuckle.

“What thing, baby?”

But he knows very well what you’re referring to, having replayed it in his head every time he got off without you. You don’t respond to him, instead intertwining his hand in yours and bringing it down to your abdomen, where you sprawl his palm across your navel and give it a little push. Minho groans at the feeling of your warm abdomen under his palm, remembering the way you reacted last time. And he’s eager to please you, to do it exactly how you liked it before.

Without teasing you any further, Minho presses down on your stomach, observing the way you moan when he does, and then thrusts a little faster. He can feel his length sliding in and out of you under his touch, locking his gaze on the bulge in your abdomen that appears with every thrust.

“Min, I’m so close,” you say, gasping desperately and digging your nails into his back.

He presses down a little harder, burying his face in the crook of your neck and moving even faster, moaning every time he can feel himself move against your abdomen.

And as he brings his lips up to meet yours, you finally let go around him, making a mess of your sheets as you cum around his cock, your clit pulsing in syncopation with your entrance as he fucks you through your orgasm. Minho finishes just seconds after, emptying his milky white release inside of you, both your juices spilling into each other and coating the bed in your arousal. He doesn’t pull out immediately, slowing his thrusts for a few minutes as he kisses you much gentler this time, your lips still glistening with the exchange of saliva.

When he feels you shiver against him, Minho finally slides out, turning over to lay on his back and catch his breath. The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, catching your breath and wiping beads of sweat off your forehead as you do. After a moment of silence, he turns to you again, a worried expression on his face.

“I promise I didn’t come here to have sex with you,” Minho says. “I wasn’t lying about wanting to tell you all about it. I guess I just happened to-”

“Min, I know,” you say with a small smile. “I didn’t think that’s why you came here.”

He lets out a silent chuckle, and you mirror the action, smiling back at him before laughing silently. The two of you remain sore and wearied, your languid bodies a comfortable distance away from each other on the soiled duvet.

Still, Minho extends a hand out from beside you, palm facing up and shifting his gaze onto yours out of his peripheral vision.

Your hand meets his, intertwining your fingers together, the delicate embrace a reminder that he’s here, right where you left him.

*

“Can’t you just stay another week?” you say to Minho, leaning down to press another kiss to his already swollen lips.

You lie on top of him as he lays back on your couch, his hands tucking strands of hair behind your ear as he smiles up at you.

“It’s just for a little bit, I promise. I just have some unfinished business out there.”

“I don’t want to lose you again,” you say in a whisper, tracing the bridge of his nose with your fingertip.

“You won’t lose me,” Minho replies, his tone turning serious at your words. “You’ll never lose me.”

“What am I going to do without you?” You ask him, feeling yourself grow increasingly more panicked at the thought of being away from him again. You’ve spent the better part of three months searching for each other, desperate for some closure to this fleeting thing- and now he’s leaving, and you can’t help but feel like you’re doing something wrong by letting him leave like this.

“You’re going to be the woman you always have been,” Minho says with a smile, stroking your hair gently. “You’re going to work your job, and fix things and be absolutely remarkable wherever you go. And I’m going to finalize a few things out there and then meet you right back here in the city. And we’ll lie on this couch, and we’ll pick up right where we left off.”

You smile at him through pricking tears, feeling them begin to fall as he reaches a thumb up to wipe them off your cheek.

“Hey,” Minho says to you reassuringly. “You know- I was thinking a lot about the bar.”

You nod at him, trying to hold back the rest of your tears as he speaks.

“We have contract negotiations coming up next month. And I was thinking of… maybe…handing it off to Jeongin.”

You sit up a little, eyes widening at his words.

“Complete ownership? But you love that bar, Min.”

He shrugs a little, blinking a few times as he pauses.

“I want to cook. And I think being out here made me realize I need a change of pace again.”

“You mean like… moving out here? To the city?”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, throwing his head back a little before meeting your gaze again.

“Maybe. Just something I’ve been thinking about.”

You chuckle too now, cupping his face in your hands as you sit up to look at him.

“You know,” you begin, thinking for a second before continuing to speak. “This really cool bartender told me once that sometimes you have to go back and make amends before you can move forward again.”

His lips flicker down to your smile and back up to your eyes as you speak, a visible sparkle in your pupils as you look down at him. “Whatever you decide to do back there, I’m here with you when you go forward again. As a bartender, or a chef, or whatever you decide. I’ll be right where you left me.”

And he doesn’t have to ask you twice, knowing in his heart, you’re already here with him- every step of the way.

*

Minho leaves bright and early that morning, grasping your hand firmly in his as you make your way down the concrete steps of your apartment building to where his car is parked.

He looks more angelic than you’ve ever seen him, his smile illuminating the space around you as he holds you in his gentle embrace on the sidewalk. The two of you say nothing, only speaking through the tender touches of your arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, face tucked in the crook of his neck as he holds you. He presses kisses to the top of your head, reminding you through hushed whispers that he’ll be back as soon as possible. And you know he will, feeling completely enveloped in his loving trust as he holds you, as he promises not to lose you again.

When he pulls away to look into your eyes, tears prick at the corners of your eyes for the third time this morning, and Minho chuckles lightly, reaching up to wipe them away with his thumb.

Before he can say anything, he feels it, finally.

The gentle caress of droplets on his face- not your tears, not his, but the sky above, showering you with little raindrops for the first time in three months and some days.

At first, Minho thinks he might be hallucinating it, when he looks up to squint his eyes back at the cloudy sky. You do the same, feeling the familiar kiss of raindrops on your skin. And then, as if the sky’s taking notice, it begins to pour, warm rain showering you both in the hazy atmosphere of the city sidewalk.

Minho laughs up at the sky, shaking his now damp hair as he looks down at you again. All this time he’s waited for the rain, thinking maybe he’d imagined it that night in the bar- the same night he ran into you. But as the raindrops graze his skin and glisten under the light of the city, he realizes it was very much real, as are you, standing right here in his arms. And like everything falls into place, so does the rain over the city, washing away the doubts he held onto for so long.

“It’s finally raining!” Minho exclaims, holding you closer to him as he tilts his face up to the sky again.

You watch him in admiration, laughing at the way he embraces the sudden downpour, also remembering the first night you met him because of the storm like this.

The city-dwellers around you begin to seek shelter under the cement roofs of the high rises, but you remain there on the sidewalk, warm in each other's embraces, content with the sudden turn of the weather. When he looks back down at you, his hair is now completely soaked, stringy pieces falling into his face as he continues to laugh.

“Minho,” you say through gentle laughter of your own. The rain comes down violently now, drenching the two of you as he holds you closer to him.

“Where have you been all my life?”

And he smiles down at you, the familiar beam of his giggle instilling the same safety and comfort as the first night you met in his bar.

“Right here,” Minho replies, leaning in to kiss you again.

“I’ve always been here.”

This time, you make no effort to escape the rain, comfortable in the way it looms over the city, much like how Minho looms over you- fortuitous, and with promises of new beginnings.

#skz smut #Lee know #Lee know smut #Lee know fic #stray kids hard hours #skz #stray kids #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #Lee minho #lee know scenarios #Lee know x reader #fanfic #smut #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #Spotify

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 4

Damian's face twisted in disgust at the offending object.

Phantom's quirked in confusion. He nudged the massive striped bass towards the smaller siren. "What's wrong?"

"I am a vegetarian." Damian huffed. "And it's raw."

"Oh. Uh, whoops." Phantom shrugged. "I don't know how to break it to you, dude, but, like... There's not much better to eat out there."

Damian glared at him. "I would rather starve."

Perhaps he was being too stubborn. With a buffoon of a companion such as this, the situation was better treated as a survival scenario than a mere mission. Damian was no fool. Vegetarianism was a luxury afforded to those with the food abundance to choose.

That, and it had been a solid sixteen hours since his last meal. His tail felt sore and aching in a way he hadn't felt in years. His stomach growled and groaned, demanding something to fill it.

The last time he felt a hunger like this was when he was still in the League, when they sent him out on weeks long missions where he starved under moonlight and ate birds and rats to survive.

"Come on, Damian, you need to eat something." Phantom cajoled, as if his puppy-eyed look could ever match that of Richard's. "And the seaweed's not gonna sustain you. Believe me I tried."

"Are sirens obligate carnivores?"

"No, but-"

"Then tell me why I cannot sustain myself off of kelp and seaweed?"

"Dude, those things have literally no calories in them."

A valid point, but just because he was right did not mean Damian had to cede the point so easily. "Is the siren species so primitive as to not have cultivated plants in order to sustain their population?"

"I literally don't know how to answer that dude. Do I look like an ambassador or something to you?"

Damian frowned.

"Look, it's getting late and we'll need all the rest we can get. I promise it doesn't taste that bad. We'll try and work something out tomorrow, how's that?"

Damian sighed. "Very well, but only because I very my life, thank you very much."

"Thank god for that..."

Damian unwrapped himself from his tail, and approached the poor fish. "I am terribly sorry, fish. I will not let your sacrifice be in vain." He muttered.

He looked up to find Phantom with a small knife, cutting up the fish into messy fillets, like this was the first time he'd done so. Peculiar. Surely he had lived off fish his entire life, and had deboned many before this moment.

"Just so you don't get poked in the mouth by a bone or two. Those things suck."

Phantom offered a strip of meat. Shutting his eyes, Damian took the food, and shoved it into his mouth, chewing minimally before swallowing.

The taste was... acceptable.

More than acceptable. perhaps.

It would be a shame to let the fish's death go to waste.

...

Damian sank his teeth into the side of the fish, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head from the taste.

Some time later...

Danny floats back into the cave, a handful of kelp bundled up in his arms. "Hey Damian, look I know this situation sucks for you, like in every way, so I went out and got some greens for you, just so it's not all meat and- Wait, Damian?"

The boy in question slept fastly, his fins gently drifting back in forth in the small currents caused by Danny's entrance. His head was slumped against the bass he'd brought in earlier, little strips of fish still stuck in his teeth.

Now that he wasn't making faces and being angry at Danny, he was honestly pretty cute.

Danny wiped some of the bits of meat off Damian's cheek, careful not to scratch his soft scales with a misplaced claw. Despite being so small, Damian managed to chew through a sizable portion of the fish that was easily half his size or more.

Setting the child's body to the side, and draping a small blanket over him, Danny set to finishing off the rest.

He hoped everyone back home wouldn't worry too much. If the GiW boats didn't clear out by tomorrow, then they were in for a big problem. He and Tucker were working on making waterproof earpieces, but they weren't ready yet, and his waterproof phone had been left in his room when he'd rushed out to get Damian back. That meant no communication with Amity Island whatsoever. No way to get in contact with Bruce Wayne, and no way for his friends to know he and Damian were ok.

He was really in over his head, wasn't he?

The morning came with a very loud wake up call.

"YO BABYPOP!"

Danny jolted awake and bumped his head into the nearest desk overhead. "Who's attacking us?!"

Beside him, Damian jerked himself into a defensive stance (or as close to one as he could manage.)

The curtains of the cave were pushed open, allowing streams of sunlight to stream in and blind the boy with its glare. Peeking into the cave was the head of one Ember McClain, a vicious grin plastering her face.

"You never told me you got a kid!"

Damian chirped indignantly.

Danny sputtered. "Whawhwh Wh Wait a second!"

Ember pulled out of the cave, and squealed. "Yo Kitty! Dipstick's got himself a kid!"

A woosh of water rushed past, and Kitty's neon green and teal scales showed themselves. "Omg! Phantom aren't you like fifteen? What the heck?!"

Danny blushed deeply teal. "He's not mine I swear!"

Ember pushed Kitty out of the way. "Oh my gosh he's so tiny. Who's the lucky woman?? Or man??? Phantom what have you been getting up to without us?!"

Damian hissed at him from behind Danny's shoulder (when did he get there?) "Begone, harpies! And cease your accusations! I would sooner perish than be related in any way to this incompetent fool."

Ember trilled in adoration. "He's so freaking adorable. Where did you get him, Babypop? An orphanage??"

Danny would've done a spittake, if he was above water. "W-what?! Dude, literally where would even find an orphanage around here?"

"Did his parents dump you on him like Johnny was?"

"Uh I'm not even gonna question that."

Ember clasped her hands to her mouth in scandalous shock. "No way, did you finally turn to the dark side and kidnap him?"

Damian piped up again, gripping on Danny's shoulders with his unsheathed claws and rising higher. "Nonsense, I claim no familial relationship with this person, not by blood, law, or emotion. He is as close to me as any stranger would."

"Ouch Damian. I literally saved your life."

Ember and Kitty chortled and shorted. They clutched their bellies and lead against the walls of the cave. "It's just... PFPFTT Phantom you total scoundrel, ahah!"

"Yeah yeah, look I gotta get this kid back to his dad on Amity, and quick. He's probably losing his mind over there."

Kitty gasped. "So you did turn him."

Danny shushed them. "Don't scream it out for the whole ocean to hear!"

He rushed out the entrance of the cave and shooed them in, covering the doorway up as they entered.

"Look I'd really, really rather you guys keep this on the down low. This is kind of a huge deal right now." Danny said.

He turned to Damian, still perched on his shoulder, his little tail brushing against Danny's ghostly white sail. "Is it ok if I tell them?"

"if it will convince them to vacate the premises."

"If you have to know, Damian's the son of some ultra rich guy. Skulker got him for whatever reason, and I was forced to turn him."

"Dude, Skulker went for a literal child?!" Ember clenched her first, likely hiding her extending claws. Right, Skulker was a bit of a touchy subject for her. "Of his own kind, no less?!"

"That's fucking low, girl."

"And now the GiW are going crazy too. Probalby got a huge donation or whatever. We're just waiting untli they go away so I can get Damian back to his dad, without any dissections. That also means none of you guys should be going near the place either."

"Pfft, too late for that."

Danny froze. "Who did they get?"

"Relaaxx, Dipstick. I was just preparing another concert, only for like fifty boats to show up out of fuckin' nowhere. Luckily I heard them before they saw me, but come on! I was miles from Amity at that point!"

"Miles?" Damian whispered.

Danny felt the same way too. They were only increasing their patrols now, shit.

"It's bad enough that the rest of the Pod are freaking migrating. We haven't migrated in years!"

"Yeah, actually, Phantom you wanna join us? I know you have this whole, err, thing, with Amity Island, but we hardly see you. And Johnny's been itching for a rematch."

Danny looked over his shoulder, to where Damian was lost in thought. This might have been the first them he'd seen the kid not glaring.

"Thanks for the offer, but I need to get Damian home. It's my fault he's like this, and he's got a whole family out there waiting for him."

"Don't you too?"

Danny swallowed a thick of water. He did have a family, a family that was probably going crazy. But at least part of that family, and his friends, knew he could take care of himself, knew that he was a siren, knew that the water was his element. Damian's family didn't have that luxury.

"We'll figure it out."

The girls shared a look, and shrugged. "The offer still stands, Babypop. Oh, and i'll be sure to fuckin' dice Skulker next time i see him, lying, cheatin' bastard.

For a moment, the boys watched the two siren teens' trailing tails, before they turned a corner and disappeared.

"Gotham."

"What was that?" Danny asked.

"If Amity Island is inaccessible to us, then we have to go to Gotham."

"Isn't Gotham-"

"On the East Coast? Yes, it is. It's our only option."

"That's thousands of miles, and you can't even walk!"

"Would you rather we stay here, waiting for the GiW to approach us and kill us both?"

Danny clenched his jaw. Damian was right, wasn't he.

"The only way to reunite me with Father is to go to Gotham. They will not be expecting us there."

"How can you be so sure?"

Damian dislodged himself from Danny's shoulder and floated in front of him. "Because they are unaware of the sirens' power of transformation, am I correct?"

"Good point, but wait, how did you know that?"

"I did some cursory research before coming here. The prevailing theories put forth by the supposed 'experts' on the matter asserted that sirens eat their human victims, with no mentions of turning. They have no reason to believe I am not dead., and no reason to suspect any siren activity in Gotham."

"And you're ok with that. Thousands of miles of swimming in the endless ocean full of things wanting to eat you?"

"Are you not?"

"Ok ok, calm down." Danny had to chuckle though. Rich as this kid may be, he was definitely not spoilt enough to sit still and wait for his dad to save him.

"And the fastest way to get to Gotham is via the Panama Canal." Damian puffed his chest out in what was probably pride. Danny stared at him, dumbfounded.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Have I ever jested to you before?"

"No seriously. The Panama Canal. You realise that place is monitored up and down, right? Literally the moment we get spotted, the locks are gonna, you know, lock down, and then we'll be stranded and sitting ducks to be chopped up by the GiW."

"That will not be an issue. You possess the power of camouflage, do you not? And again, they will not be expecting us in Panama, so they will have no reason to bring any sonars there."

Danny wanted to bang his head against the wall. This idea sounded so stupid, but not stupid enough that it was unfeasable.

"In addition, you said it yourself. Your negligence resulted in my permanent loss of humanity, so it is your responsibility to do whatever you can do right your wrong."

Shit. Came with being the son of a businessman, didn't it? This kid was guilttripping the hell out of him and Danny could honestly not say he didn't deserve it.

"Fiiiine. We're going to Panama."

"Excellent." Damian grinned. "Let us leave immediately."

Danny could only pray that none of the 50 things that could go wrong, did go wrong, but when was his luck ever that good?

No, instead, Danny strapped in whatever supplies he had laying around in the cave. To Panama we go...

#dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #damian wayne #merman #merboy #dcxdp #angst #vegetarianism #damian vs fish #the fish wins #ember mcclain #mer!danny #mer danny #mer!damian #mer damian #mermaid au

[fromgoy2joy]

Here is the scene -

Shabbat dinner at a rabbi’s house with all the college kids from different schools in the area immersed in discussion. Spaghetti lines up high on each plate with a minimal serving of droopy artichoke. The rabbi made an announcement at the beginning of the meal that calories don’t work on Shabbat and we’re eating for two souls :

A girl I hadn’t met before- Dawn- was discussing the lawsuit set against her school for antisemitism. This is very common nowadays so I was nodding along, twirling noodle around my fork.

My friend , who we will call Duck, shook his head. “I’m lucky.” He stabbed a piece of artichoke. “My school is administratively failing, so that’s the focus. Not the world falling to crap.”

I nod along, eying the challah on the other side of the table.

“Joy, have you experienced anything?” Dawn asked, politely. I know she would’ve loved me to say “oh nothing! We’re actually beloved there!” But that wasn’t the case.

“Oh- uh! “ I jolted up. “No more than the usual.”

“Well,” Dawn peered at me. “What’s your ‘usual’?”

“Ah,” I took the moment to think. “Oh. Well. I started my conversion journey in October and all my freshman first semester friends cut me off because that made me complicit in genocide.”

Both of their eyes widened at me. “Oh G-d,” Dawn put down her fork. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh don’t worry about it! You live, you learn.” I waved my hand. “Let’s see. Oh, oof, there was the time a Jewish kid got beat up and nearly thrown into traffic at a protest -“

“Really!?”

“Oh yeah,” I twirled spaghetti. “Our antisemitism teach in was canceled because we are “genocide colonizers” and it got dangerous to host. A professor made an entire class defend Hamas for a final paper,”

“No fucking way.” Duck breathed.

I shrugged. “Apparently, it was an 1800s philosophy class.” My two friends squawked before I continued. “We’ve got the cliche of ‘resistance is justified’ but I don’t think that’s anything unique-“

“You understand that’s still bad, right?” Dawn interrupted. I felt caught off guard, and answered slowly.

“Yeah of course. It’s just kinda lame. Lack of originality. There’s a bit more. Oh!” I snapped my fingers. “The Nazi thing!”

Dawn and Duck are both staring at me, in a daze. I felt like a commercial, head buzzing with so many examples that I wanted to say “but wait , there’s more!”

But instead of a free water bottle to go with whatever infomercial contraption there is, instead it was a long list of ways my life is passively and actively in danger.”

“I’m so sorry, Joy.” Duck began. Dawn nodded slightly. “I had no idea it was this bad. I was at a conference recently, and a lot of the talk was how bad your university has gotten. You guys might actually be the worst in the state.”

There are things I know logically. Like that I should eat more than 1.65 meals a day, that what I’ve been experiencing isn’t normal.

But it was Shabbat, my heart was as light as it could be, and I was here in my beloved community. I twisted my face into a grim smile. “Huh. Celebrity moment! Now, could you pass the challah?”

(I got like five extra pieces, so, you know! Perks to Jew hate!

Jokes, jokes.)

#fromgoy2joy thoughts #jumblr #jewish #jewish convert #jewblr #jewish tumblr #jewish conversion #antisemitism #tw antisemtism #jewish humor #dark Jewish humor #Jews by choice #jew by choice

[the-cimmerians]

a storytime story. Not my story, it's my friend's, but she doesn't go here so I'm sharing for her. We'll call her Mara. Mara is a high-femme, lovely queer girl from a wealthy family in the southern US, but when I met her she'd been living in California for many years, chugging through her postgraduate education in Women's Studies. She rarely went home, because being at home was always a bit of a fraught experience: not unendurable (because to most heteronormative casual viewers the radiant queerness of a high-femme is pretty much indistinguishable from a quirky beauty queen waiting for the right football quarterback to sweep her off her feet), but still--not the most fun. Yet every once in a while, Mara would have a fit of 'dutiful daughter'-itis, and go home to mend some fences and keep some peace.

Mara's mother had often asked her to come with her to philanthropic events, but Mara had always said no. On this trip, however, Mara's mother had purchased a full table as an event sponsor, and she cajoled Mara into going with her. For those of you who haven't ever attended such an event, they are all different, and yet terrifyingly all the same (and I say this not as an attendee, but as an event-runner for various nonprofits; an event-runner who, fair warning, hates everything about these events, and this part of nonprofit work). There is some form of lower-calorie food (chicken or fish on greens with a very light citrus-fruit dressing is de rigeur, along with some sort of fruit-based airy parfait served in the smallest and most elegant glasses imaginable for dessert), usually an emcee (occasionally entertaining, but always inoffensive to the assembled guests), sometimes speakers (high-profile or famous women on a local or national level depending on the 'get' of the organization in question, or extremely well-spoken young people or teens for youth-serving organizations--with the youth in question being very carefully coached), and an 'ask'--the fundraising portion of the event, where the wealthy attendees compete with the rest of their friends and enemies in the social scene to be the most gracious and beneficent person in the room.

And there is gossip. So much gossip.

Poor Mara knew enough to expect some of this (mostly due to listening to me complain bitterly about how awful these events are), but there were aspects for which she was completely unprepared. Her mother had filled her sponsorship table with all of her closest friends, and the 'social hour' before the event started in earnest was a haze of white wine and a constant stream of excessively perfumed women dressed in full southern socialite chic, coming by the table to air-kiss cheeks and say how it's been ages since they've seen each other and what a darling ensemble, where on earth did you get it? and who does your hair now?--you must tell me, it's simply scrumptious--you look incredible, we really must do lunch some time soon--

...and the moment the woman or women in question moved on, the table, as a whole, in excited, urgent-whispered voices, would drag the everloving fuck out of every single lady they'd just been gushing over.

"Did you see how botched her last lift was? I hardly recognized her--I'm surprised she recognized me, with her eyes yanked back like that--" "so terrible, but she did go to the cheapest surgeon in town--husband has money troubles, you know--"

"Didn't expect to see her here, but I suppose you have to go somewhere to show off that large a collection of paste jewels--" "oh, stop, you wicked girl! But you're right, of course--and she gives herself such airs, like we don't all know--"

"Poor dear looks exhausted--apparently keeping up with her pool boy isn't easy at her age--" "Can't say that I blame her; that Carlos, have you seen him? Of course, she's hardly his only client. I've been dying for a pool, but my Henry just won't--"

"Quite a plucky little attitude for someone whose husband just left her for his twenty-two year old secretary--" "And after she put him through college and law school--I heard she's not even going to get to keep the house. She really should have sprung for a better lawyer--"

"I can't believe she still thinks she can fit into that dress, with all the weight she's packed on--" "Truly grotesque--just ghastly! Seems like last summer at the fat farm didn't do her as much good as one would have hoped--"

::giggle:: ::giggle:: ::giggle::

Mara was horrified, sitting there with a bland, polite smile frozen on her face, with her white gloves and vintage pillbox hat and charming little clutch bag, her seamed stockings and her kitten heels and her classic red lipstick and pin-curls (because in true unquenchable femme spirit, she had taken this occasion as an opportunity for dress-up, an opportunity for fun and play and sexy whimsy--a Gene-Tierney-does-pin-up-girl kind of vibe), utterly unable to see how to extricate herself from this terrible situation.

Another woman glided away from the table, coyly waving heavily-beringed fingers. "Yes, Darling," Mara's mother said, coyly waving back. "See you soon! Kiss-kiss! Love to Laurent!" She sat down and hissed to the cabal at the table: "Ha! Her husband just gave her an STD."

The woman to Mara's left leaned forward excitedly. "Really? Two-door or four-door?--wait, if it was the latest Aston Martin, I'm going to literally perish of envy--"

And that was the tipping point--Mara fled. Walked until she found a suitably divey coffee shop. Had a coffee and a slice of peach pie, and flirted with a soft Butch waitress until the world seemed less dire.

#storytime tumblr #'Mara' - thank you for sharing your story with me and letting me share it with others #because it's hilarious and so accurate #and i'm so glad you made it home after this ordeal #seriously though - fundraising events are the fucking worst #rare ass personal post

[brooooswriting]

Sam and Tara know you aren’t eating properly. You last ate only dinner during Tuesday. It is now Saturday, and they decide to ask if you are ok, to hear that you relapsed.

Can reader be dating Tara.

Wreck

Tara carpenter x reader (Romantic), Sam Carpenter x reader (platonic)

Tw: anorexia, ed

If you have problems like these, please talk to somebody. You’re loved and needed.

“We should talk to her” Sam mumbled to Tara as they sat at the kitchen table during dinner time. They had plates full of food in front of them, food that you cooked. Your plate sat opposite to Tara, empty. There has barely been any food on it as you claimed that you already ate a lot during cooking. They believed you the first few times, you did cook for over 2 hours but when they noticed your constant dizziness they started to watch you while cooking. To no surprise, you didn’t eat during cooking.

Suddenly, a lot of things started make more sense. You were really moody lately, snapping at everybody for small coincidences, you were constantly tired, had lost a lot of weight, you were dizzy and you had a lot of trouble concentrating. The only really calorie intake you had was from the alcohol on the party at Friday Tara figured which made her shiver.

“When’s the last time we saw her eat?” Sam asked her sister, scared of the answer. Truth be told, she was vary if you in the beginning but you were quick to make her like you. You were the nicest 17 year old she’s ever met and the fact that you were starving yourself broke her terribly. She couldn’t imagine how Tara must feel.

“I think Tuesday, we had breakfast for our anniversary. After that, she avoided every meal she normally had with us. I-I just thought she was stressed, I thought that that was the reason she lost weight” Tara rambled on. She didn’t know how to deal with this, she loved you more than she loved anything else. Ever. You were the only person that could make her talk after the first attack, and she hated the fact that she wasn’t there for you at the moment. Her face was covered in tears, she didn’t notice that she started crying. Only when a tear landed on her hand.

Sam didn’t have the heart to tell Tara that she heard you throw up directly after “dinner” yesterday but she decided that there was no avoiding it. “She threw up yesterday. After she ate the three spoons of plain rice, I heard her when I got my hoodie. I tried to deny it but there’s no use” she told Tara with a heavy heart.

“She threw up?” Tara chocked down a sob, she was scared and angry and sad and disappointed. “We should talk to her, now” she sighed out and wiped her face. The brunette opened her phone camera to check her face, her eyes were swollen and red, there were still tear stains on her cheeks and her nose was running.

“Clean yourself up first okay? It’s hard but we have to stay strong for her” Sam told her and both of them went to clean themselves up.

“Ready?” The older woman asked, knowing the answer. Nobody could ever be ready for a discussion like this but there was no way around it so they had to suck it up. Tara gave her a timid nod and knocked on the door waiting for a come in.

When the come in came, they found you sitting on a yoga mat doing sit-ups. “How can I help you?” You asked out of breath, acting as if everything was alright. There was a moment of silence where both of them just stared at you. Your sport bra was showing of most of your body, your rips were showing and your chest bones were pretty visible, it looked unhealthy. The way they stared at you made you uncomfortable causing you to grab your shirt from the bed and tug it onto your body.

“We gotta talk, come here please baby” Tara mumbled as she sat on your bed and petted the space between her and Sam. You looked between them, something was off you figured.

“Look, im kinda in the middle of something right-“ you stopped yourself when you was the look on Tara’s face. She looked so sad and hurt that you couldn’t bring yourself to keep talking. Instead you stood up and sat down between the siblings, careful that your body wouldn’t touch either of them.

“We noticed that your behavior has been… off lately. You’re barely eating y/n” Sam started, her voice was soft and held a lot of comfort. Tara grabbed your hand, squeezing it thingy, hoping to give you comfort too.

“We also heard you throw up after eating Love” Tara said and then there was silence. You were staring off into the nothingness while the siblings exchanged a quick look. “What’s going on inside that pretty head of yours?” Normally you would have laughed about a sentence like that but you didn’t quite feel like laughing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you still didn’t look at either of them. You were scared of their reaction, scared that they were going to hate you or be disappointed of you.

“Y/n, I can see your rips, all of them. I haven’t really seen you eat since Tuesday, it’s Saturday” Sam said and just as you were about to deny your stomach growled, a clear sign of hunger. A sigh escaped the older woman, “I’m going to get you something to eat” she told you and started to stand up.

“NO. I don’t want anything” you quickly said, slightly panicked which caused Sam to stop in her tracks.

“No, go get her something” Tara decided as she wrapped you up in her arms. You struggled, trying to get out of her hold, trying to get away from her but it was no use. No matter how much you pushed at her chest she didn’t budge. You were to exhausted to bring up any more strength. “Honey, you can’t even push me away. You’re exhausted. Whatever was going on has to stop alright? What happened?” She asked you, her hand rubbing up and down your back. Even through the shirt she could feel your spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” you mumbled into your girlfriend, an obvious lie. She sighed and pulled you even closer, placing a careful kiss at the top of your head. Her hands moved to grab your waist but she hör herself from doing it. Scared of how it’d feel.

“You gotta tell me what happened. Please baby” she sounded so sad that you broke. You started to cry and sob into her, pulling her closer to you. In her arms everything felt like it was alright.

“I-I didn’t fit into the sweater you brought me last anniversary. I mean, I did fit into it. But it was tight, way tighter than before. I’ve gotten fat, I didn’t wanna embarrass you” you explained through tears and sniffles making it hard to understand you bug she still did. And suddenly everything made sense, or atleast a bit.

“The blue one?” She asked and you nodded. She sighed suddenly feeling guilty. “Y/n, my love, I washed it wrong. It was the night before our anniversary this year, I accidentally washed it to hot which caused it to shrink. It had nothing to do with you baby. I promise. But even if, you’d still be beautiful if you had gained weight. Because you’re the most beautiful person ever. Nothing could ever change that” she told you, her eyes told you that she was telling the truth. That she meant every word she said.

“It shrank?” You asked through tears slightly laughing. Tara nodded with a small smile which turned bigger when you sighed in relief, your tears becoming less.

“Here” Sam mumbled as sat down with a banana and some nuts in hand, she didn’t want to upset your stomach after not eating for a while. She had listened to your conversation from the door and while she was relieved that the trigger was now figured out she still knew that this wasn’t going to be over this quick. “We should still talk about therapy” she said into the room, to no one particular.

You immediately tensed in Tara’s arms but the way she carefully kissed your head reassured you and made you relax again. “We will talk about that tomorrow” she decided as you carefully are your banana.

It felt good to eat, it felt right at the moment. You knew that in a couple of minutes or hours you were going to feel guilty but you also knew that Sam and Tara would be there to make you feel alright again. “Thank you” you told them as you finished eating. “For everything” you added as you gave Sam a small smile and a hug. The woman pulled you into her chest and kissed the top of your head in such a loving way that you could cry again.

“I’ll leave you two alone now. Call if you need anything” she told you as she parted from you, saying goodnight to her sister before leaving the room. You and Tara left alone.

“Let’s get ready for bed alright?” She said and you nodded before disappearing to take a shower and brush your teeth. In that time Tara changed her cloths and when you were done in the bathroom you changed while she brushed her teeth.

But when Tara reappeared in the bedroom you stood in front of the mirror without a shirt, looking at yourself. She was quick to come up behind you and hug you close to her body. She kept whispering words and phrases like ‘you’re beautiful’ and ‘I love you the way you are’ into your ear until you finally tested your eyes away from your reflection to turn around in her arms. “I love you” you mumbled and kissed her deeply. In that moment Everything just felt right and you nearly forgot about the whole eating thing.

“Let’s Go to bed” you laid in bed, cuddled into Tara that night and you felt loved and beautiful for the first time in a while. Sure, there was still a lot to be figured out but you knew that Sam and Tara would always have your back, no matter what or when.

#reader insert #brooooswriting #jenna ortega x reader #sam carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you

[brokenjere]

bad in the bones (c.f) (part 9)

a/n: hey all!! I’m super excited to have this next part out. I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted anything but I have been working on a lot of things outside of this platform that I hope to share with you all at some point. Please let me know what you think!! I miss talking to you all <3

It was fun seeing Conrad in secret. There were stolen kisses in the backyard when no one was around and knocks on the wall that separated us that always seemed to come when I couldn’t sleep. He could read my mind, I think. Always hearing me think about him. I’d sneak out my room and tap on his door and he opened it so quickly it was like his hand was on the doorknob waiting for me. 

He’d grab my hand and lock the door behind me and sometimes, I’d wake up with the birds chirping the next morning and have to sneak back to my room but sometimes we stayed awake as long as possible like we needed to savor every second of this. One night, I laid on my back starring up at his ceiling and he strummed on his guitar almost too quietly and I leaned over on my side, propped myself up on my elbow and Conrad was already staring at me. “What?” He whispered with a smile. 

“Stop,” I told him. His hands ceased to play and he moved the guitar off of his lap. He put his palms down on the bed on either side of me and crawled on top of my body, forcing me down onto my back again. His eyes were too brown, his hair too floppy, and his smile so perfect I couldn’t stand it any longer so I kissed him. 

My fingers found the hair on the back of his neck and he leaned into me, pressing his hips against mine. Sometimes things got steamy like this: our bodies pressed too firmly together until we were just a pile of sweat, saliva, and heavy breathing. I’ve stopped him every time not because I didn’t want to but because I haven’t had sex with anyone except for Josh and the idea of that happening was almost too much for me to think about. Especially in moments like this were I was too flustered to think straight. I stopped him every time except for last night. 

Tonight, I let his hands linger under my shirt for a little longer than normal and when he looked up at me to make sure I was okay, where I usually shake my head no, I nodded my head yes. Our clothes were off and our bodies were sweaty and everything was quiet except for his breathing in my ear. 

I laid next to him with his blanket wrapped around my naked body and I didn’t speak until he turned his head to look at me. “Are you okay?” He sounded guilty and that made me feel guilty and I nodded my head. It was the truth. I was okay. “Do you regret that?” He asked again and this time I shook my head. I didn’t. 

“Did you know people burn 3 and a half calories a minute on average during sex?” I asked, looking over at him. His cheeks were flushed and he smiled and then he kissed me. I leaned into him and kissed him back. “I should go back to my room,” I whispered against his lips. He nodded in agreement and then I got dressed and returned to my room. 

I didn’t sleep at all which is probably directly related to the bags under my eyes that Laurel is packing concealer on right now. “I never noticed how bad they were,” she whispered as she applied more. 

“It doesn’t need to be perfect,” I mumble to her. She gives me a look and I don’t look at her. “I don’t even want to go to this, you know that.”

“Yea, well, Belly is really excited so why don’t you just be happy for her?” 

“I am happy for her,” I lie. Laurel doesn’t reply, just adds blush to my cheeks. “Just don’t make her wear a fascinator, okay?” I look at her through my lashes and she smiles at my joke and the air in the room relaxes. 

“She’s not wearing a fascinator,” she assures me. I nod and Laurel fluffs out my hair. “It’s time to go.” 

Seeing Conrad in a suit is more shocking than I anticipated. I’m so used to his disheveled, salt-air hair and swim trunks that seeing him all put together is making me feel things I wasn’t prepared for. He eyes me from the steps of the country club, careful not to look for too long but I smile and wave at him as we walk up. 

Susannah is on Conrad’s arm and she smiles as Laurel and I approach. “There you guys are!” She exclaims like she has been waiting for us forever. She arrived earlier with Belly to help set up. “You look beautiful,” she tells me as I approach, squeezing my arm gently. 

“Look at us,” she says, looking at all of us standing together. She pauses and her eyes begin to water. “It’s perfect.”

“Mom, you’re not going to cry, are you?” Jeremiah asks from next to me. He and Steven have their suits hauled over their shoulders, waiting to go inside and finish getting ready. 

“What and ruin my makeup? No way,” she says and gives her son a smile. “Everything is going to be different next year. Conrad’s going off to college,” she says, bumping her shoulder into Conrad. He gives her a shy grin. “It might be the last summer we’re all together.” The group gets quiet for a moment. It feels like no one is breathing.

“Just don’t forget, I get to dance with you tonight,” Jeremiah says, breaking the tension like he doesn’t know it’s there but I swear I can see Conrad’s muscles tighten. 

Jeremiah hands his suit to Steven as he grabs Susannah’s hand, twirling her around and dipping her like I’m sure he has practiced many times over this last summer. When he returns her upright, her hand goes to her head and she stumbles, losing her footing. “Mom, are you okay?” Jeremiah asks, steadying her. We all reach out for her like she could break at any moment but Conrad grabs her elbow first, putting her back on his arm. 

“It’s been so long since I’ve danced, I must be out of practice,” she says, waving it off and wrapping her arm back around Conrad’s. 

“We should go inside,” he suggests. Susannah nods and he leads her inside. The rest of us hesitate for a moment but then we all follow Laurel’s lead and head inside too. When we reach our table, Conrad helps Susannah into her seat and then pulls out one with my name on the placemat. “For you,” he whispers quietly, giving me a look only I can decipher. I slide into my seat and as he pushes me in, he leans forward. I can feel his breath on my ear. “You look perfect.” 

Before I can reply, he’s sliding into the seat next to mine. Conrad’s hand finds my thigh under the table. We’re touching but it’s a secret, just the way I like it. We’re sitting around a decorated table - a pretty candle burning right in the center of our perfect china plates. They’re almost too pretty to put food on, but there’s a caterer walking around offering people appetizers and we can’t help but take some.

When the announcements start, we wait for Belly’s. Girl after girl descend down the steps in fluffy white dresses and tiaras on their head with men on their arms. I see her poking her head out from behind the curtian. I can tell she’s nervous even from over here. “Isabelle Conklin. Daughter of John Conklin and Laurel Park,” she starts as Belly and Jeremiah meet in the center of the stage and descend down the stairs. I can’t help but notice how her eyes find Conrad’s, despite having his brother on her arm. I look over at Conrad and he’s focused but I can’t tell on who. They bow and present themselves to our table. Laurel gives Belly a thumbs up and I look down at my lap. 

Conrad’s hand is still on my thigh and he squeezes it. I look up at him and he’s looking at me with furrowed brows. He mouths the words what’s wrong and I shake my head. He holds his hand out palm up and I put mine in it gratefully. Belly and Jeremiah present themselves in front of our table. Belly does a curtsey and Jeremiah bows and they’re both smiling way too big but I give her a thumbs up because she is beautiful. She’s not looking at me, though, she’s looking at Conrad and it makes my chest tighten. I had spent the last few days hiding, avoiding Belly at all costs because I can’t look her in the eyes anymore. Not when all I can think about is Conrad’s voice in my ears, his hands on my skin, and his lips on mine. She sits down next to me for breakfast and all I can think about is if his cologne is still lingering on my clothes from the night before and even as she’s chatting and laughing over her cereal bowl, I’m watching the doorway for him. Even right now, as she stares at him, my hand squeezes a little bit tighter on his and I feel guilty.  

I turn to him and whisper in his ear, not caring who is watching and say, “can we get out of here?” I pull back to watch for his reaction and he nods. When all the debs are dismissed, I slide out of my chair excusing myself from the table. The hallway is all too quiet compared to the ballroom and I lean against the bathroom door and wait for him. The door creaks open and when I finally see him, it’s like I can breathe again. “You’re going to get us in trouble if we skip this thing, you know,” he laughs as his hands grab my waist and pull me to him. I wrap my arms around his neck and shrug, kissing his cheek. 

“The classical music is rotting my brain,” I tease. 

“Didn’t you used to play classical music?” He asks. I move my fingers, tapping my fingertips against his back as if I’m playing the piano. 

“Rotted my brain then, too.” When Conrad smiles, I think my heart stops and I kiss him. He presses his body closer to mine, pressing my back against the door. I pull away from him, kissing his cheek once more. “Want to go outside? By the pool?” 

“We really shouldn’t miss any more of this,” he says. I can feel his heart beating in his chest and his resistance despite the certainty in his voice. “This really means a lot to my mom.” 

“You did it last year, right? It’s Jeremiah’s turn, she won’t even notice.” I push against him, making his grip on me tighter and his smile gets a little bigger as he considers it. “Come on,” I beg, fluttering my lashes at him for just a moment before his lips crash against mine and my feet are off the ground. 

Conrad carries me down the rest of the hall and out the door to the pool. It’s dark out, the only lights are reflecting on the pool but it’s quiet. Conrad lays me down on the lounge chair, making sure my dress doesn’t drag on the ground and he props himself up next to me. “Isn’t it peaceful out here?” I ask after a long moment of silence. 

“You hate the water,” he reminds me. 

“I like the sound,” I say. “Being by the water with you is the only time I don’t feel crippled with guilt.” Conrad’s breathing hitches and I feel him freeze next to me. “Don’t do that,” I whisper and shake my head. 

“Do what?” 

“Tense up like that. Like I said something wrong.” 

“I just don’t want you to feel that way,” he says. His nose brushes against my cheek, moving away stray hairs that fell into my face. He kisses my jawline and leans his forehead against my temple. “I want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy,” I tell him. “That’s why I feel this way. Belly loves you.” 

“And I love you.” His voice is so quiet I barely hear him but then he says it again. And again. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” he repeats over and over again until I shut him up with my mouth and pull him on top of me. He mutters those three words as he kisses me. “You can say it back, you know,” he says, out of breath but smiling. 

“I love you, too,” I tell him. “And I love her and I can’t hurt her.” Conrad’s knuckles brush against my cheek once before he rolls off of me and stands up. “What are you doing?” 

“Just stand up,” he says, holding his hand out to me. I take it and he pulls me up next to him. He traces my wrist and up my forearm and back down to my fingers before taking my hand into his. “We have the rest of the summer,” he says. “And then, we tell her. You tell her.” I nod, not fully convinced. “I know you’ll be scared. I know you’ll try and back out and that’s okay. But you just have to jump sometimes, right?” I look over at the water as he talks. Sometimes you just have to jump. 

“Right,” I mumble. I take a step toward the edge of the pool and hoist my dress up exposing my feet. I use Conrad’s hand to steady myself as I step out of my heels and I dip my toes into the water. “Sometimes you just have to jump.” 

“Not into the water, you fool,” Conrad laughs, trying to pull me away from the pool but I don’t budge. I dip my foot into the water further, repeating his words in my mind. “What are you doing?”

“I’m afraid of a lot of things,” I say. “Which is weird because my whole life has been about trying new things but I’m afraid of a lot of things. Meeting new people, change, bugs, mostly spiders but all bugs, really. And the water.” I pull my foot out of the water and try to catch my breath. “I’m afraid of hurting Belly and I’m afraid to love you but there’s only one thing on that list that I can change.” 

I can feel Conrad watching my every move, holding onto my hand like I might break at any moment. “Yeah, I’m sure I could find some bugs somewhere around here,” he says carefully. I can’t help but laugh. I shake my head and turn around, my back facing the water and I can see his chest deflate, relief washing over his face. 

“I’m not talking about the bugs,” I say, yanking his hand so he stumbles forward and I’m falling backward and it all feels like it’s happening in slow motion until we crash into the water. My arms are flailing, trying to gain traction in the water and my lungs feel like they’re on fire, and for a moment, I feel free. But then the panic sets in and my hands are grasping at nothing and I think I’m drowning but then he wraps his arm around my waist and he brings me to the surface and when I can finally breathe again, I start to laugh. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “Why are you laughing? We have to go back in there and we’re soaked!” I can see the amusement in his eyes and I know he’s not mad because when I kiss him, he kisses me back. 

taglist: @marajillana@liltimmyst@angelayse@nani-2305@drikawinchester@28cnn@nyenye@isthlsfate@spacefruitsblog@laceandsuch @peotego @hallecarey1

#conrad fisher #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty #tsitp imagine #conrad fisher x reader #jeremiah fisher #jeremiah fisher fan fic #gavin casalegno #conrad fisher imagine #christopher briney

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji has helped me in so many ways. I will forever be grateful for the creation of this character. He quite literally means the world to me right now.

(TW: ED/Depression/Suicide attempt mention)

I've always struggled with food. Well, not always. But at the end of middle school (more or less. Give or take. Age 12/13) I became obsessed with what I ate. I still don't know exactly how it started, but I think it has always been a mix of my need to control my life when it's crumbling down and the necessity to look skinny (both things are my mother's fault, mostly. And also lots of things going on at the moment). So I started skipping meals constantly and throwing away food and throwing up. Not gonna get into details, but it ruined my life without anybody knowing until a huge depressive episode came and then I tried to off myself, yadda yadda yadda. Then I just stopped eating food and my meals every day were basically a monster and gum and maybe a piece of fruit. I couldn't even drink milk without crying. Then it got a bit better. Then a bit worse. It wasn't very consistent. And then I started doing exercise but that only made me even more obsessed with calorie intake and healthy food and I still can't drink milk or bread without at least feeling awful about it.

And then I watched One Piece.

I know it sounds extremely silly and dumb, but it has helped me in so many ways. I'm not gonna get into all the things it has done for me, because then I'd have to talk about Robin, Nami, Luffy, Pudding and Buggy which are, like, the characters that have helped me the most next to Sanji, and I would not finish this post.

But Sanji is just so, so important to me.

He speaks about food with such passion. His whole thing about not wasting food literally comes from an experience of starvation and because of the sacrifice his father made for him. He keeps saying he refuses to let people go hungry, no matter what. That we all deserve to eat. He relates food to love and cooking is his whole life. It kind of started as a joke when my brother said "nooo, now you can't waste food because Sanji would be sad" and I- That day I literally ate wayyy more than usual with that thought in mind. And I didn't feel bad afterward for once. And he's just- He just makes me feel so comfortable around food. Which is the normal amount of comfort somebody should have and sometimes it's not even that, but it helps. It helps so much.

Then his whole thing with Germa and the Vinsmokes. It killed me. My relationship with my mother is, uh, you can call it complicated but I fucking hate her so. Yeah. And Sanji's story about rejecting his blood relatives and finding better people who will love him hit so close to home. Him being different. Weak. More emotional. A good person. Sanji refusing to use the name Vinsmoke. It's my whole life. Sanji self-sabotaging himself all the time and constantly sacrificing himself, too? I just can't do it, man, he means the world to me. And then Wano happens and he turns out to have the same body as his siblings but he's still himself. He's still Sanji no matter how much in common he has with the Vinsmokes. And as somebody who's constantly dealing with people telling them that they look like their mom? I fucking love it. I know I look like her and I even act like her sometimes but that doesn't mean I am her. And it doesn't mean she deserves to be part of my family, because she isn't and I can't wait to get rid of her in my life.

It's not only food and family, though. Sanji has helped me accept myself in so many ways too. In the way I perceive others and in the way I act. He has helped me eat. He has helped me realize you don't have to consider your blood relatives family if you don't love them. He has helped me see that my kindness is a strength and not a weak spot.

Not to mention that his whole thing with gender and sexuality, how the fandom portrays him, and how I personally write him has been of so much help in understanding myself. I recently discovered I was a lesbian, and also being genderfluid I just- I just love Sanji so much I be projecting my gender issues and internalized stuff with comphet on him. And let me tell you, it helps.

This whole thing is just something short and sweet I wanted to say because media affects people. In the best of ways. One Piece in general has saved my life in many ways, but Sanji in particular is still helping me every day.

#i love you sanji i love you i love you #i started crying while i wrote this lmfao pathetic behavior sorry sorry i love my boy too much #but one piece is literally my favorite thing i swear i haven't been happier in years #and i still struggle a lot with everything but it's a lot of help #one piece #black leg sanji

[skylarmoon71]

Raphael (TMNT 2014/2016)- Extra

“My left.”

You ducked, just barely dodging the fist that came hurtling in your direction.

Raph smirks.

“Not bad.”

You were both at a distance now, and he was watching you keenly. With all your training, getting the best of Raph was near impossible. He may have been a hothead, but he’s an incredible fighter.

Calculated.

It seems that he puts a little more effort when facing off with you. Because despite your size, you have the advantage. You’ve seen them train a million times. You know a lot of their movements. Their skills. In a battle, strategy is everything.

“Been listening to Leo huh.”

You grin, arms raised in front of your face as you mark him.

“If you’re trying to throw me off, it’s not going to work.”

“Is that right?”

You nod, still holding a defensive position.

“Ya know I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Yeah, what exactly have you been thinking about? If it’s you we’re talking about, it can't be good.”

He’s still wearing that confident smirk, and you narrow your eyes when his gait changes slightly.

“I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to kiss ya.”

The statement makes your eyes grow wide, and you falter for a moment.

“What..”

You let out a little breath, now distracted.

Raph moves closer, and you know you should hold your position, but that look in his eyes, it has you shifting in your spot.

You find yourself backing up and his smile becomes wider. Your back hits the wall and you jolt. Raph presses his hand against the wall.

“R-Raph w-we’re supposed to be training..”

“We are. Did ya know that kissing burns calories?”

You shake your head, licking your lips.

“Let's get in a good workout.”

Your eyelids lower as he moves in.

“Dude, wake up!”

The whispered yell made you jump, and you barely collected yourself. The nudge from your friend had your head turning and nodded, trying to straighten your form.

“Thanks.”

You mouth.

This has been happening a lot. Since that night in your apartment, you’ve been having constant daydreams about said mutant. It’s frustrating how much he consumes your every thought. Even worse that he hadn’t really made a move on you.

To be fair, they were crimefighters. Their night schedules were busy and your day plans were hectic. You tried to squeeze in as much time as possible, but there was always that point where things just didn’t align. Whenever you got to see them, you just had such a good time. You’d spend the time playing games or training. There was hardly a point where you could speak to Raph alone.

Heaving your duffle on your shoulder, you walked through the lair with a sigh.

“Hey (Y/N)!”

Mikey’s greeting had you smiling.

“Hey, did you just get done training?” He nodded happily.

“Raph and Leo are still going. Donnie and I got knocked out of the finals.” He joked.

“I’ll go and make sure they aren’t training all night.”

Knowing the two, it would never end. They were both too stubborn to let the other win.

As you walked into the dojo, you weren’t even surprised.

“Ready to lose Leo!”

“Not a chance!”

They rushed at each other, weapons drawn. The metal clinked and you just dropped your bag on the floor, waiting for them to take notice that they had an audience.

“Getting rusty.” Raph taunts.

They were both pushing against each other with no resistance. Leo did a backflip, obviously trying to reevaluate what the best course of action was. Raph played with his sais, flipping them back and forth around his wrists.

“Room for one more.”

They both turned at your voice and you waved.

“Sorry Leo, but it’s my turn.”

You pointed at your watch, and he straightened, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Wow, it’s only been three hours.” Leo spoke.

“Only, and three hours should not go in the same sentence. “ You laugh.

He smiled, sheathing his blades.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later.” Leo stated.

“Sounds like ya quitting.” Raph calls. Leo just waved him off, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Good luck.” He offered.

Just like that he was walking down the hall.

Raph slid his blades into his pouch, and you did a stretch. When you felt satisfied, you slid your shirt over your head. You placed a right next to your bag, and when you turned back, Raph’s eyes were on you.

For a moment you felt a bit bashful. You’d literally done that a million times, but things were a little different now. You divert your gaze.

“L-Let’s get started.”

Hopefully the workout would distract you.

So you began.

Raph has never been one to hold back. You already know this.

So your body hitting the mat half a dozen times for the evening wasn’t a surprise.

You grunted everytime you were flipped over.

Each hit knocked the wind out of your body.

“Stop trying to flip me over, I ain’t ya college friends.” He was teasing.

You grumbled.

“It’s not my fault you’re so big.”

He just offered a smirk looking down at you and your cheeks tinted red at how unintentionally dirty that sounded.

“Stupid brain, focus!!”

He was kicking your butt. You needed to retaliate.

You jumped back to your feet, and Raph backed up, ready for you.

Rushing at him, you fired a few punches, all of which he evaded. He made a grab at your hand, and you just barely dodged to move. Dropping low, you used your leg to knock his feet from under him, but he jumped. You rolled to the side, shooting back upright. While you were trying to ground your feet again, Raph took advantage, tackling you.

“OOF!”

Your back hit the mat, and you huffed as Raph pinned you to the ground.

“C-Cheap shot!”

You complained, clearly out of breath.

His breathing wasn’t much better. You were still trying to gather yourself and you seemed to realize the lack of distance. Your chest rose and fell a bit more steadily.

“You can..let me up now..”

Even though it was your suggestion, you didn’t exactly hate your current position.

“Maybe ya should move me.” He taunted playfully.

You couldn’t stop the grin, wrapping your legs around his hips, you tried to use your weight to push him over, but he barely budged and the both of you started laughing.

“This is so unfair you’re as heavy as a truck.”

You whined, giggling. He straightened, pulling you up with him. The sudden tug caused you to fall right into his lap. You could tell from his reaction that he hadn’t planned for that. Your hands braced on his chest, and you looked up into his eyes.

Raph visibly swallowed at the adjusted position and the last of your restraint disappeared. You reached up, grabbing both of his cheeks as you kissed him. He was obviously caught by surprise, hands raised a bit awkwardly.

When he finally reciprocated, you let out a soft sound and Raph pulled you closer, hands smoothening on your hips.

“Finally..”

You’d been dying to just feel him.

Taste him.

You shifted, holding on just a little tighter. Raph didn’t mind.

When the both of you finally parted, you were smiling.

“That kiss is gonna cost ya.”

“I hope it does.”

You replied confidently, pulling him back in. 

#training #tmnt raphael #love #feelings #cute #humor #bayverse tmnt #crushes #raph x reader #dreams #family #care

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

Wait. I will probably gain more weight than before in recovery, but... with the time, it will stabilize and can I get back to my pre-ed body or a normal body and stabilized weight with proper nutrition and exercise after fully recovery? The "disproportionate body" will disappear one day, right?

Because you said: "This is tough for a lot of people in ED recovery, especially because your body may change shape or gain back weight in "disproportionate" ways. ***Even when this phase has passed, your post-recovery body might not go back to the way it was before you got sick.***

So the disproportionate body will likely go away, yes. A lot of people who are new to restriction recovery gain back weight in disproportionate ways and experience lots of other medical symptoms while their bodies try to heal from what they've been through.

Will your body go back to exactly what it looked like pre-ed? That I don't know. This uncertainty may be hard to embrace, and it's totally okay to feel that way. You're definitely not the only one, I can tell you that. The thing about extreme restriction is that it throws your body into survival mode, so your metabolism might work differently for a long time after this because it retained the traumatic experience of starvation and is now in a place of thinking "I need to hold onto every calorie I can get." Different bodies work differently. Your body at full recovery may look different from your pre-ED body and that's okay, and not any sort of moral reflection on you. You're allowed to feel how you feel about it though, and to grieve for your life pre-ED, and to struggle with allowing your body to do whatever it needs to do.

That's a hard thing, though, isn't it? Letting your body take control? Restriction and eating disorders in general often center around a need to feel a sense of control, especially over one's body. To guarantee that you can make your body be what you idealize it to be through all the trials of time and a full life lived.

It's natural for bodies to change as they go through things in life, something I think I've mentioned before. Eating disorder recovery is one of those things. Other things that can drastically change the body (including its base weight): pregnancy and childbirth, a major health condition, a stress event, a grief event, or just plain aging. All of these things are hallmarks of a full life, much as we may feel uncomfortable while we are living these moments. It's natural to look back on the time that was before and think, how did my body go from that to this? Someday you may have the good fortune to have lived to old age, but you'll be looking at your wrinkled skin with eyesight that's gone blurry, working extra hard to pull yourself out of your chair just to go to the toilet, and you may look back to where you are right now and think "God, I miss how young I was then." Of course, you may experience many joyous and beautiful moments on the way to get to that stage of your life, too.

Oh, one tip I do have for you: while exercise can be great for your physical and mental health, I recommend not taking it on with the specific goal of weight loss, as that might be a restriction trigger. Many people in ED recovery find that to be the case. Find a form of exercise that is fun and rewarding to you, and pursue it to get good at it and enjoy the positive health outcomes it can bring to your body.

#restriction recovery #body image #control issues #self love #body posi

[deanoheartspie]

Sunshine 3

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: None

A/N: Let me know what you think and what your theories are!

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Y/N'S POV

Who is this Lisa and who the heck are Ben and Aurora? It wasn't my business so I slowly backed up leaving the green eyed-man with the darker hair woman. After a few minutes she saw them bicker, well it was more of the woman than Dean he kinda just stood there and took it. As if he was used to it.

And let me tell you... He didn't look to happy when he came back over.

“Dean, what happened?” you ask as he drags you off to the diner, the moment we stepped in fresh common rolls filled your nose and you nearly died and went to heaven.

The man ignored your question while he sat on the other side of the booth, waiting for me to decide on what to get.

“Good morning Sheriff, same as usual?” The chirpy young woman asks with a smirk, He nods and as the woman is about to walk away he clears his throat. “You didn't ask her what she wanted.”

The woman looked me up and down as she rolled her eyes, “What do you want?” she asked not caring for an answer. I guess no Southern hospitality.

Did you say or do something wrong?

You had always hated attitude when it was directed at you, it made you feel small and weak. At this point, you knew how to put on your best face.

weakly smiled trying to make your smile reach your eyes, maybe the girl was just having a bad day? You never know. “I'll get eggs and bacon please” keeping your voice steady and quiet, The waitress simply walks off and into the back of the diner.

First Dean with the grumpy look on his face after seeing the 'Lisa' woman and now the waitress who seemed to already hate her. Maybe marriage would've been the best choice... What if your mom and dad were right? You couldn't live on my own.

“Sorry Darlin' I don't know what crawled up her ass today.” Dean apologizes while flipping through the newspaper. A fresh pot of hot coffee was set on the end of the table, so you poured us both a cup and took a nice sip.

Soon enough, the hot food was placed on the table and Dean had quite a lot of food. Three burritos and an extra side of potatoes.

“How the hell are you able to eat all of that?” you asked shocked as he stuffed his mouth with the food, eating like he hadn't eaten for days.

His bright green eyes, flick over to you as he innocently shrugs before grinning, “Well when you work two jobs you're dammed to burn off calories”

The rest of breakfast was quiet, you take out my wallet paying which you learned very quickly that Dean didn't like that not one bit.

“My momma is gonna whoop my ass, if she finds out I let a girl pay on the first date.”

You raise a brow leaning your chin in the palm of your hand, “First date huh” you teased with a shit-eating grin.

“Y'know what I mean” he rolled his eyes a soft smile on his face but he was quick to hide it by picking up the newspaper to hide his face.

-------------☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️--------------

Around 1:25 we arrived back at the ranch, Dean helped me carry my shopping bags upstairs, in all honesty, you expected some complaints but nope he was quiet as a mouse before disappearing off.

You organized all my new clothes into the drawers, putting all your old clothing into bags to donate. You didn't know how long you planning on staying here for, maybe until you got back on your feet and saved up enough money to leave. After all, you weren't made to take care of a ranch.

A few hours later, the sun had started to go down and You hadn't seen anyone since you got home. You walked downstairs seeing the little kitchen light on, your aunt Laura sitting there with a tea and book in hand. “Your here? I thought you'd be at the bar like everyone else?”

The bar?

You shake your head taking next to her, she offers you a book and you nod. We both quietly read for a few, until she decides to call it a night leaving you alone in the kitchen.

*Boom*

Heavy feet walk across the floor as a laugh escapes the Green-eyed man's mouth. He's drunk when he makes his way towards you. “Yo- you look good in the boots” Dean muttered with a grin, wrapping his arms around you tight.

Drunk Dean is apparently very touchy but not in an inappropriate way.

“Thank you?” you laugh as you walk over to the counters, he was dragging himself every time you moved. Filling the glass with water you hand it to the drunken man. “Drink.” He whines burying his head into your shoulder.

“Fine” He pouts as he downs the water before stuffing his face with some oreos. “Carry me?” you snort and start to laugh. “I can't carry you Deano”

It was different from seeing the usual gruff man be all sweet and clingy. In all honesty it was kinda cute.

The man gasps and places a hand on his chest, staring at you like you had said the most offensive thing ever. “Are you... Are you calling me fat!” he squints his eyes at you slapping his hand away after you attempt to help him up. “Get those filthy hands away” he stands up putting his hand on the wall helping him balance, groaning as he trips over the loud creaky stairs.

“Let me help.” you sigh and help him up as he smiles, finally guiding him into his room. Helping him take off his boots tossing them to the siand de, getting him tucked in. “Goodnight Dean”

“Goodnight sunshine”

Chapter 4

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----Tag list----

@deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @mrsjenniferwinchester @ladysparkles78 @hobby27 @khaleesihavilliard @foxyjwls007 @lucidlivi @jc-winchester @globetrotter28 @beskarfilms @the141bandicoot @alysinwonderland-at-tea @randomgurl2326 @ambergoddess444 @westernwinchesters @lemmons1998 @julie040904 @nic-kolas @raisinggray @alternativeprincess

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean x reader #supernatural #dean x y/n #cowboy dean winchester #cowboy! dean #dean winchester x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester series #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader

[lovingperfectionsblog]

The secrets you shouldn't keep.

Daniel Ricciardo x reader.

Warnings: Eating disorder, mentions of throwing up, shouting, language, drinking, mentions of emotional abuse.

Wordcount: 5172 words.

Authors note: Another eating disorder one. I am sorry guys, again, this is in no way a glorification of it, but rather a therapeutic process for myself, to help me with certain things and things I myself had to go through, Things that are themselves mentioned in the story. Please, if you suspect someone or yourself is going through this, seek treatment and help, you are so worth it <3

______________________________________________________________

You just need to keep it together for a little bit.

You don’t need to do this.

It doesn’t need to get this bad.

You can’t do this.

With that you crouched down in front of the toilet throwing everything up anyway.

You tried, you know you tried so hard, but once again, you failed. You knew you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. You couldn’t do it to Daniel. It would absolutely break him, but also, you’d kept it from him for this long, you were sure you’d be able to for a little longer.

With that your fear was replaced with another one. This new one stronger, older. It began to get the better of you in this moment. Your brain began to rationalize that Daniel would never find out, and even if he did, he wouldn’t care. He hadn’t said anything yet, so clearly this wasn’t an issue to him. He liked how you looked, liked how skinny you looked.

The only important thing is to keep the weight off. To be skinnier.

All your life, your father had reminded you how important this was. How you had to always look beautiful. Your ex only reinforcing it all when you were with him, taking it slightly up a notch. He always made sure you stayed under a certain weight. It was for the best, you knew this. He always reminded you of this, and eventually you became thankful for the reminder.

If this was how you needed to be loved, then so be it. Then this is who you were, because your ex always used to say, ‘the only thing you’re worth is your looks baby, now let’s make sure you keep them’.

You suddenly felt all better again, ready to handle the rest of the day. Sure you’d be able to make it through the afternoon and evening with your and Daniels friends.

“You ready to go babe?” Daniel knocked on the bathroom door.

“Give me 5 seconds and we can get going” you shouted back through the door, quickly grabbing your toothbrush to brush your teeth.

____

“Can I grab you a plate love?” Daniel leaned down to kiss your forehead, you scrunch up your nose at him after he just came off from playing some AFL with his friends, now covered in sweat, causing him to only kiss you longer, laughing all the while.

“No thanks boog, I grabbed a plate while you were playing, but you tuck in” you assured him, pushing him over to where all the food lay out waiting for the boys to finish their game.

Truthfully, you felt bad for lying to him, but you knew you had to, you knew that in the long run this was the best option.

“You want me to grab you a drink though?" You began getting up and heading inside to the kitchen to grab your own drink.

“The coldest one you can find please” he shouted after you as he dished up, pausing only to flash you his signature smile which always made you weak at the knees.

While you were inside, you had remembered that you needed to log your meals for the day, something you hadn’t yet done. Knowing Michael always made sure to heck Daniels logs, and subsequentially always checking yours, making sure you both always followed your programs. More Daniel than you naturally, but he always did his job when it came to you too. Whipping out your phone you quickly made something up, being sure you met your calorie count for the day, something Michael was particularly adamant on. You made sure to add in your exercise for the day, which you had actually done. You loved seeing the little number of how many calories you’d lost pop up on the screen after you added in your exercise. You felt a small twinge of pride in your chest as you saw it pop up in the stats on your profile. Quietly patting yourself on the back as you closed your phone and slipped it back in your pocket, grabbing your and Daniels drinks and heading back outside.

At the same time, outside Michaels phone pinged, alerting him to the fact that one of his clients had logged their meals and exercise for the day. Opening the app he saw it was you, which confused him entirely.

“Dan, Y/n just logged all her meals for the day?” he quietly leaned in and half asked Daniel and half told Daniel as the boys ate with their rest of their friends.

“Yeah, she told me earlier that she had lunch while she was sitting inside with the girls and then had dinner while we were on the field” he relayed the information you had told him earlier.

Something wasn’t right. Something didn’t feel right to Michael.

“I honestly don’t remember seeing her eat once today, did she exercise?” Concerned was laced in his voice.

“Yeah, no, she trained with me today, so she definitely exercised, but obviously we haven’t seen her eat today, we’ve been busy” Daniel attempted to reassure him, “Why all the concern all of a sudden?”

“No, nothing I guess” as both your trainer and friend, none of this was reassuring him, but he didn’t was to make accusations or assumptions just yet, instead choosing to just drop the subject with Daniel for now.

Michael himself couldn’t just let it go. His gut told him something more was going on. He knew something was wrong. Over the next few weeks, he was paying close attention to your eating habits as well as your workouts.

First, he noticed that you weren’t logging your meals correctly and you actually very rarely ate in front of him or Daniel. He also noticed how hard you pushed yourself in gym and with workouts. Pushing yourself too hard nearly every single session, which forced him to stop you on more than one occasion when he noticed you getting too dizzy.

What truly concerned him though is how thin you actually were. He’d been paying a lot of attention to your weight now. When he first met you both Daniel and himself had assumed it was just your body type, because this is all they had known you as, but now that he was really and truly paying attention, he was beginning to think that he was very wrong. This wasn’t your body type, you had just always been underweight.

How was he going to bring this up with you? He could as your trainer, but that felt too impersonal for such a topic, especially when you were more than a client, you were his friend.

Fuck, how was he going to bring this up to Daniel?

____

“As usual, the perfect breakfast, thanks babe” Daniel slid up behind you as you stood at the sink, slyly placing his dish in the water and he kissed your cheek as you continued washing the now empty plates from the breakfast you, Daniel and Michael had just shared.

“When are you and Mike going to train?” you wished you were asking just out of interest for your boyfriends’ day, but you knew you were really asking because you felt disgusting after all the food you just ate, all the food you just shoved into your mouth, now sitting heavy in your stomach. You needed the boys out of the flat so you could get all this food out of you. You shouldn’t have eaten so much.

“We are actually leaving right now, I’ll see you soon okay?” he let you know as he grabbed his plan and him and Michael moved to the door, both saying goodbye and thanking you again for breakfast.

“Bye, love you, don’t train him too hard” you shouted after them as they left.

You’d waited five minutes after hearing the door click shut, making sure they truly were gone before making your way to the bathroom and getting on your knees in front of the toilet, forcing yourself to get rid of the food.

You didn’t wait long enough.

“Hey, sorry, forgot our-“ Michael had shouted out, assuming you were still in the kitchen as he walked back into the flat and made his way into the bathroom to grab the gym towels that they had forgotten to pack, “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he was by your side and grabbing your hair in no time, holding your hair back, praying this wasn’t the worst-case scenario in his brain, in a twisted way hoping you actually just had a stomach bug or something.

You slowly brought your finger out of your mouth, hoping he hadn’t seen.

Michael’s heart shattered as he noticed your hand moving down, confirming his assumptions.

“Yeah, guess I just felt a little nauseous this morning” you confidently lied to him, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

“Not sure shoving your friend down your throat making yourself throw up is going to help with that” Michael tried to sound kind, he truly did, but you could hear the anger anyway. The thing that concerned you the most was that he didn’t sound surprised. Which makes lying to get out of it slightly harder.

“Ag, you know how much I hate feeling nauseous, it’s just easier to get sick and get it over and done with” you tried to get him to believe you, it wasn’t exactly an outlandish claim either, you weren’t entirely lying.

“Is that the same reason you’ve been skipping meals for ages now and lying about it in your logs? Or is it because you’ve been working out so hard you nearly faint every other gym session, or is it the fact that you’re actually pretty severely underweight for your body type?”  Michael had let go of your hair by now, moving to stand in the doorway, looking down on you. God, you looked small on that floor next to the toilet. How had it gotten this bad?

“Michael-“ Fuck, had you been caught? Had he figured it out?

“And now I catch you making yourself throw up” he said it more to himself than to you, recounting all the facts, just proving to himself what he had suspected was going on. He was disappointed in himself; he had completely missed all the signs and now it had come to this. How long had it been like this?

“It’s not like that, I swear” you scrambled up from the floor to try and meet him eye to eye, desperately needing him to believe you. He could not leave here without believing you. What if he told Daniel?

“You’ve been lying to us” he began to make his way to the lounge, unable to stand in that small bathroom anymore, making him feel claustrophobic “Fuck, you’ve been lying to Daniel. You’ve been killing yourself” His voice was raising, suddenly afraid, the reality of the situation settling on him.

You were killing yourself, and he didn’t know why.

“Please don’t tell Daniel” you whispered, unsure if he even heard you.

As you stood before Michael, you knew you couldn’t lie your way out anymore. He knew, he’d figured it out and now all you could do was damage control.

“You know I can’t do that. You can’t ask me to do that” he shook his head in disbelief, he really was going to have to have this conversation with Daniel, knowing you were never going to. Knowing you were probably too scared to, but he had to know.

By now the conversation was delved into a near shouting match, neither of you willing to soften your voice at the other, both equally as panicked as the other, for completely different reasons, you terrified that he was going to share your secret and him terrified that if he didn't you were going to die.

Neither of you noticed Daniel as he stepped into the room looking for why Michael was taking so long, both too focused on the argument at hand and before he could even begin to let his presence be known, your argument was continuing.

“Michael, don’t you dare tell him. It’s none of his business and if it’s none of his business then it is most certainly none of yours” you pointed a shaking finger at him, close enough to shove into his chest, surprised that you didn’t with the anger coursing through you.

“This is by definition our business” Michael shoved your hand out of the way, “fucking look at you! You weigh nothing! Do you genuinely think Daniel would ever forgive me if I let the woman he loved just carry on killing herself?”

The breathing in the room sounding louder and louder whenever there was a moment of silence, his heavier from shouting, yours from trying to keep the panic at bay.

“He’s not going to care!” you tried to keep your composure, you tried to reason with him, but it came out more frantically than even you expected.

“He isn’t going to care? He isn’t going to care! The man is obsessed with you and you think he isn’t going to care about you having what seems like a fairly severe eating disorder?” You shrink away at hearing him actually say it, you hadn’t even said it in private, to no one, not even yourself, yet here he was, freely shouting it out, at you, suddenly making it real, a tangible.

“What do you mean she has an eating disorder?” Both your heads snapped towards the new voice in the room.

Fuck.

You immediately plaster on a smile, wanting to jump in first, needing to keep the secret, needing to do whatever you could to get back in control of the situation that had gone so wrong so quick. Try and fix what you could and get back to the safety of your life before Michael had made it all crumble within minutes.

“Nothing baby, I promise. He’s got it all wrong, it’s a simple misunderstanding is all” you had walked over to Daniel, placing a hand on his cheek, guiding his face towards yours, doing everything in your power to make him believe you.

“I walked in on her making herself throw up” Michael hadn’t moved but directed the statement towards Daniel.

“I was feeling sick, you know I hate feeling nauseous” you felt confident he’d believe you, even if Michael hadn’t.

The hand that had rested against Daniels chest was now tightly in his grip, keeping you in place. It was then that you noticed he’d directed all of his attention to Michael, urging him on, almost instinctively knowing he had more to share.

“I first noticed something was wrong a few weeks ago at the AFL day, I knew she hadn’t eaten anything, but she had it all logged anyway” Michael began recounting it all to Daniel, “after that, In realized she was doing it often, almost daily by this point.”

“Michael!” you shouted in a desperate attempt to get him to stop, at the same time struggling to get out of Daniels grasp, it only tightening the more you tried to pull away, forcing you to stay in place, yet never looking at you.

“I’m sorry Y/n” Michael couldn’t look you in your eye, knowing he was hurting you, but continued anyway “then I’d noticed her work outs, she pushed herself too much, beyond what her body was actually capable of, way more than she could handle. She was on the verge of nearly fainting nearly every session I worked with her” he dragged a hand down his face “Fuck, if those were the sessions I was there, what was she doing to herself when she was training alone” the question was aimed at no one and at everyone all at the same time.

The boys never broke eye contact as Michael took a break, allowing Daniel the time to mull through the information he’d already shared. You could see Daniels jaw clench. He was angry and your brain was desperately searching for a plan to get out of this.

“She’s also severely underweight for her body type and I’m sorry for noticing it too late and I’m ashamed that I did” Michael knew that it wasn’t even close enough of an apology to what you two both deserved, but it’s what he could do right now in this moment.

“And then I walked in on her making herself throw up now when I came to get the towels” The story finally stopped once Michael had shared everything he knew so far.

“How long?” Daniel was now staring directly at you, eyes demanding an answer.

You couldn’t give him one, you couldn’t speak. You’d finally been caught.

Once Daniel realized you weren’t going to answer, he repeated his question, this time directing it towards Michael.

“I assume for as long as we’ve known her, it progressively getting worse” it was the best guess Michael could give without fully knowing all the facts.

“Couch. Now.” He had finally let go of your arm and he left no room for argument on what was going to happen now.

So you sat, both men standing in front of you. You couldn’t look either of them in the eye, too ashamed that they’d caught onto your secret. Instead, you focused down, rubbing the wrist that had been clamped in Daniels hand. Waiting for the inevitable anger that would be directed at you.

“How long have you suspected something?” Daniel completely ignoring you now, acting as though you were not there, as though you were a child. He felt his best course of action was to find out as much information as possible before addressing you.

“A few weeks now” Michael recalled when he first began suspecting something.

“Why didn’t you talk to me sooner?” The shake in Daniels voice caused by the rage he felt was something neither you nor Michael had expected it. Daniel was angry, at both of you.

“I wanted to be sure, plus, it’s a pretty difficult topic to accuse someone of” Michael defended his actions.

“The women I love is killing herself and you’ve suspected something for weeks now and only bothered to mention something when you catch her physically making herself throw up?” Daniel was seething. His best mate made the choice not to come to him about this. He could have been fixing this week ago but was only finding out about it now. His brain was quiet. There was nothing but white-hot anger taking up the space, ultimately not allowing him to do anything other than shout.

Daniels anger surprised you both, not expecting the outburst, especially not directed at Michael. You maybe yeah, but him? Never.

“Baby-“ you began to interject, finally speaking up, trying to stop him shouting at Michael for what you knew was ultimately your fault.

“And you!” Daniel interrupted before you could get any further, voice louder than he wanted. You were now front and centre in the show that was his wrath. Despite you knowing he wanted to say more, you couldn’t help but shrink in on yourself, instinctively trying to make yourself smaller in an attempt to hide from him.

From the disappointment.

You watched on as Daniels eyes darted around, looking at different points of your body, feeling more and more vulnerable as the silence continued.

“I don’t even know what to say to you right now” he shouted out, never ever fully meeting your eyes.

“I need to go’” hands running through his curls, “I need to get out of here” He couldn’t deal with the onslaught of information and more importantly, he couldn’t deal with all he was currently feeling. Fear was not a common emotion for him to experience, never fully knowing what to do with it and never had he felt it more than when he realized that your actions could potentially kill you. Next minute he was storming out of the door, leaving you and Michael behind, stunned and silent.

After he had left, you stood up without saying a word, leaving the room.

“Y/n, I’m sorry” Michael called out to you, giving up when you gave no indication of responding. He sank onto the couch, unsure of what to do. He knew he had done the right thing, exposing it all, but he was starting to think the way he had gone about it was all wrong. Too much anger for a situation that was so delicate.

Next minute you were walking back into the lounge, this time carrying two glasses and a bottle of rum.

“You know it’s like 9am right?” Michael informed you as he watched you place the glasses on the coffee table and pouring rum for the two of you.

“You honestly think I care after that shit show?” with that you downed your first glass, wincing at the burn in the back of your throat and immediately pouring yourself another one.

“Guess I can’t really fight you on that one” he agreed, downing his own before holding it out for you to pour a second for him.

You sat down next to him on the couch, both of you dead silent as you sipped on your drinks, replaying every single moment of the previous argument. Topping it up when necessary.

After drink three, you finally felt brave enough to talk again. You needed certain questions answered. You didn’t really want to hear them but you know you needed to.

“Do you think he’s going to come back?” you needed to know what your next move was going to be.

“Jesus, he was so fucking angry” Michael offered up in lieu of an answer to your question, genuinely unsure what Daniels next move was going to be.

“I’ve never seen him that angry, ever, let alone with me.” It was true, Daniel very rarely allowed his anger to get the better of hi, but this? This you’d never witnessed before and it terrified you.

After a few moments after he had finally gathered enough courage from his own drinks, he decided he was able to talk to you about it all.

“Why?” is all he managed to ask you, it was all he needed to ask, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“It’s all I’ve known for the longest time I guess” you answered truthfully.

“That long?” Michael didn’t want to push, but if you were willing to talk, he was going to try and get answers at least, so he could better understand.

“My dad came from a pretty conservative culture, women needed to look pretty and skinny and that was where our worth lay, and he reminded me of it always, I always needed to look a certain way, be a certain weight” you began mindlessly, the first time you ever really spoke about it openly, “and then I just ended up dating a man exactly like my father, and he pushed for the same things, my worth being in how I looked, never really allowing me to weigh more than a certain number, monitoring the food I bought, how much money I spent on it, constantly reminded me that all I was ever good for was to be pretty and skinny.”

Drink four done, drink five being poured, and downed, six.

“Eventually you don’t know any other way. It becomes a part of you. It becomes you. Then it’s this like, every time you walk past a window and see your reflection, you hear their voices telling you to be thinner and better and then it’s the only thing you hear, except this time in your own voice. You don’t really know any other way of life, the deeper the wound, the more you need it, because who are you without it? No one needs a wound more than a wounded person.” God it felt like your chest was about to rip open.

“Jesus Y/n” drink five downed for him too, pouring six.

“I know I was getting worse, I’m not stupid, despite what I was always told, I know. It’s not like I don’t want to get better. The longer you have it though, it’s almost more difficult to come forward and say anything, because I mean, look what happened here” you gestured to the empty lounge in front of you. “Also, the fear of not being believed you know, or of being abandoned.”

“You know you haven’t been abandoned right, you know I believe you and want to help right?” Michael was suddenly trying to justify himself.

“Michael, the love of my life just walked out, there’s very little you can say to me right now that is going to make me believe I’m not going to be abandoned now that it’s out in the open” Seven done, you were struggling to pour eight, you were drinking too quickly.

“Listen you’re drunk and I’m pretty close to it, let’s chat about this all after a nap yeah?” Michael wanted to be present for this conversation, even if you didn’t want to be.

You didn’t need to answer, instead just sliding onto your side and falling asleep then and there, hoping you’d be able to pick up the pieces when you woke up.

_____

Daniel walked back into the apartment to find you fast asleep on the couch, a half-finished bottle of rum and Michael sitting in silence, watching some show.

God, this was going to be an awkward conversation. He knew he had reacted badly. Shit he had absolutely lost it at you both, and neither of you deserved it. You were sick and he was scared.

And he had lost it.

Fuck! He hoped you were going to forgive him, not just leave him like he knows he deserved.

He sat down on one of the couches, planning his words carefully in his head for what he was going to say to his best friend, some apology that could even nearly make it up to him.

“I would’ve reacted the same way, you don’t need to worry man” Michael spoke first, almost as if he could read Daniels mind.

“It’s like the fear eats you alive” Daniel confessed after a second. Michael nodding in agreement.

You stirred, waking up slightly to their voices, neither noticing though. Not opening your eyes just yet, not willing to face them together again. Trying to work out what they were whispering about.

“You think it was bad for you man, Jesus, you should have stayed for the conversation afterwards” Michael’s voice.

“How badly did I fuck up by leaving?” Did Daniel really feel like he fucked up?

“Didn’t at all, she was more concerned that you weren’t coming back for her” Michael giving small bits of information, “the word abandoned may have been thrown around.”

“Shit, she thinks I just abandoned her?” the guilt hit Daniel like a ton of bricks.

“Where did you go anyway?” Michael didn’t want to answer that, Daniel knew, he didn’t need to confirm it for him.

“Truthfully, I just needed to get out. It’s like my brain wasn’t working.  After I had a second to breathe, I just kind of, I don’t know, researched? I needed to know exactly what to do, exactly how to help her. I got some therapists numbers too, some of the best in the city.” Daniel recounted exactly what he had done for the last few hours, “some for her, some for us both.”

He did all of that for you? He wasn’t going to leave you?

“I may have also taken a look at a few jewellery stores for an engagement ring” he said it so casually, too casually.

“Seriously?” there was an excitement in Michael’s voice, knowing you were both perfect for each other.

“Nothing like the shock of you potentially losing your girl for you to realize that she’s the one that you want to spend the rest of your life with” Daniel chuckled, despite it completely being the truth.

You stirred, wanting to now join the conversation.

“She waking up?” Daniel whispered, in case you were still asleep, Michael nodded, getting up so Daniel could take his place next to you.

“Hey baby, I’m right here” Daniel gently rubbed your back, physically alerting you to his presence.  You slowly opened your eyes adjusting to the light, sending Daniel a lazy smile, just glad to have him back, “Hi” you softly returned, a gentle smile making its way onto his face.

“Listen, I’m going to go, let you guys talk, we’ll chat later” Michael interrupted the moment between you two, throwing a smile at you, nodding goodbye as he made his way to the door.

“Michael, mate, thank you” Daniel tried to show as much gratitude in his voice as he possibly could, he was indebted to him and would be thanking him for the rest of his life, Michael only nodding in return as he closed the front door behind him.

“We should probably talk” you began, sitting up to face him.

“We don’t have to right now, we can save it for another time, when you’re ready, when things have calmed down slightly, we’ve both had to deal with a lot today as it” Daniel guided you into him, wrapping an arm around your waist, feeling you melt into him, “I do need to say I’m sorry though, I shouldn’t have shouted, I shouldn’t have left. I was scared-“

“There’s nothing to apologise for.” You didn’t want to hear him say sorry when this all happened because of you, “I’m just thankful you didn’t leave me completely” you confessed to him, the vulnerability making you nervous.

“You know you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life right?” God you were thankful to hear the joking Daniel come back, “I love you; you know that right? I’m not leaving you over something like this. We’re going to get through this together” insecurity laced his voiced.

“I love you too.” It was all you could get out, not knowing what else to say to his declaration.

“How about a lazy day? Junk food, movies, the couch, some other types of shenanigans?” He winked at you, tempting you with a perfect lazy day.

“And what type of shenanigans would this be?” you lifted your head that rested on his shoulder, placing one kiss to his neck, pulling back to allow him to elaborate.

“Like, definitely the type that would make my mom incredibly disappointed in me for how I treated a lady” and with that he picked you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist, and walking you to the bedroom, you placing kisses all across his neck and jaw as he went.

“ma’am, you’re only going to make the shenanigans that much more disgusting if you carry on doing what you’re doing” he joked, kicking the door open with his foot.

“Do your worst” you flashed him a devilish smile.

“God I love a challenge”

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x ofc #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo oneshot #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo #daniel Ricciardo #DR3 #f1 #f1 fanfic #monaco #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #F1 oneshot #F1 Fanfic #F1 x Reader #F1 Fluff #F1 Imagine #Fanfiction #fanfic #F1 Angst #F1 x OFC Reader #F1 x Y/n #F1 x You

[lovingyourlovehandles]

I left you alone at my place while I'm at work, but you are unable to control yourself so you empty my fridge and my cupboard. You eat all day long, your stomach is now so full, it's painful.

Meanwhile, I was feeling guilty of letting your fat ass alone, so to excuse myself, on my way home I bought a huge feast at McDonald's. My arms full of fast food for my porker, I open the door to see you struggling to breath, your hands on your round and taut belly.

What are we going to do? You seem so overstuffed, but I can't let all those burgers go to waste... I have no choice, I have to force them into you. You can't run away from me in this state, so I approach you with a develish smile as I unwrap a burger. You barely acknowledge me in your half-asleep state but the moment I lean my body on yours, building more pressure in your packed gut and the smell of greasy fast food burger, you are aware of what's going on. I'm expecting some resistance but you are the good piggy I conditioned, you just open your mouth and wait for the food to be shoved in it. You shouldn't have anymore space in your gut and yet, you managed to devour, not without difficulty, every single food I brought to you.

While you are drifting away in your food coma, I look at you with so much pride. I have a beached whale on my couch snoring surrounded by wrapper. I clean you up a bit and put a blanket on your engorged self, turn the lights off, a kiss on your forehead and one last pat on your belly before leaving you to your digestion.

Sweet dream piggy, digest all those calories and turn it all into more fat.

[warnersister]

Yandere! Peter Parker x (female!) Reader with an eating disorder - read at own discretion and take note of warnings!!

A/N: I wrote this at 9pm and idek what was going through my head but it’s the first fanfic I’ve finished in months so it’s whatevs. Reader is based on me, oops🤭

WARNINGS: yandere, eating disorder, not pro-recovery, fat used as a derogatory term, depression, inferences to suicide, starvation, kidnapping, (please let me know if anything is missing)

Prompt / summary: Yandere! Peter Parker took his love away from everything. This world much too dangerous. But he stopped you exercising. And exercising was the only thing keeping you eating.

It had been three months since Peter had taken you hostage. After all, this world was way too dangerous for your precious soul. He’d dropped out of college, and ‘coincidentally’, so had you. He saw you every day. Whether in class, in the library, getting coffee, running, in the gym, in your apartment, in the shower. Wait, what? There were too many creeps in this city, too many weirdos. He needed to take you away from it. Away from it all.

But one thing he neglected to notice, was your relationship with food. How you chewed it slowly. Counted your calories. Weighed your portions. Obsessed over the scales. But your runs gave you peace. Your workouts allowing you to eat.

You were towards the end of your run, 4.7km in and only 300m away from your apartments. Peter was on top of your adjacent building, watching you in his spider-suit. His eyes narrowed, beginning to swing down. And before you knew it, your mouth was covered by a gloved hand and the ground was appearing farther and farther beneath you.

You were flying further away from your abode, your mind spinning with confusion. About a mile or two away from the main city now, you finally found your feet. It was a green area, ground covered with over growing trees and dense woodland. Your captor let you go for a moment, and you made a run for it - after all, you wanted that final 300 meters.

He grabbed you after a second or two, having sprinted after you. “You’re very fast, sweetheart.” He huffed, spinning you around to face you. Your breathing slowed down slightly, as you looked at him, clicking at your watch to stop your run - GPS on it now well and truly fucked.

Your eyes focused and it took you a minute. “Spider-Man?” He immediately removed his mask when he noticed your softened expression. “Peter?” You knew his name? This angel knew he existed? He nodded. “You’re safe now.” He spoke, hugging you close.

It wasn’t the hug that alarmed you. Nor was it the situation. It was the close proximity. Could he feel your fat? Was your back chubby? Was he squeezing your skin? He leant back to look at your wide-eyed face. “Was I in danger?” You queried. He nodded. “From what?” “Everything. Everyone. This world is too dangerous for you, my love.” You pushed him away, and he creased his brows. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Apparently, you had chosen the hard way - breaking out into a run but tripping over a large tree trunk in your way, and then you had found yourself in a small cottage surrounded by the unfamiliar canopy of trees.

It turned out Peter was batshit crazy. He had confessed his love for you, you were tied to the bed for about a week while he went to work so he knew he could trust you. You hadn’t left the house since he had taken you. Nor had you eaten since. Now he was sat at the edge of the bed, plate in hand, pleading with you to eat.

“Please, my angel. Eat. Please.” He begged, tears building in his eyes. “You’re not listening to me!” You shouted, your own pouring down your cheeks. “Peter I can’t eat if I don’t exercise!” You yelled. “Why? I don’t understand.” “Because I’m not good enough! I need to lose weight! I’m fat! I have to exercise to eat!” You sniffed. “Please, I’m not trying to escape, Peter. I understand - you love me! I just need to run. Come with me, choose where and when we run! Just let me run, please!”

He was taken aback, looking at you. Without a word, he stood up, walked to the kitchen and placed the food down then to the shoe rack in the corner. He returned with the running shoes you were wearing when he took you. “Let’s go.”

Peter had tried to strike up a conversation with you, but you didn’t respond until the fourth kilometre. His breaths were fleeting as he grew tired with your pace. “You know, to say you’re a superhero your endurance is terrible.” You joked, allowing a smirk to fall onto your face. “The works all in the arms, babe.” He replied. “I appreciate this, Peter.” You told him, facing forward as you continued on the route. “I love you.” He said. “I know you don’t get it, but you will. And I’m sorry but this is for the best.” You didn’t reply, only stopping when you reached your familiar; the cottage.

And sat at the table, cereal in front of you, you had taken a few bites and Peter was sat, silently smiling as he, too, ate his breakfast. “I get it Peter.” He hummed, raising a brow. “I was miserable in my old life, I didn’t see a purpose to it. You were right.” You made eye contact. “I was in danger, endangering myself. I don’t love you quite yet but I understand. And thank you for taking me on a run.” He leant across the table and kissed your forehead sweetly. “Anything for you, my love. Anything.”

“After all,” You began. “Now we have plenty on time to focus on your 10k’s!” He groaned jokingly. “Oh no.”

#masterlist #xreader #smut #fluff #Peter #Parker #Peter Parker #spider #Spider-Man #yandere #yandere x you #male yandere #peter parker x reader #Peter Parker x you #yandere Peter Parker #yandere Peter Parker x reader #Ed #warning #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you

[mortiskiller]

First Time, but Not The Last Time

A short story about the first time a feedist couple tries funnel feeding. Proofread and approved by @ihatemakingusernames.

I could feel the energy in the room—it was a mix of nervous lust and heart-pounding fear. My heart was racing, tight in my chest; I could only imagine yours was as well. My legs bounced slightly, and my ass wiggled back and forth as I heard you whistling in the kitchen. You told me to sit down and wait until you came back. In those minutes, I heard bags opening, jugs cracking open, and liquid pouring, and it all made me so aroused. Tonight, we took the next step in our relationship. Tonight, you said we are going past the point of no return; after this, we would be closer than ever. Tonight, you were going to funnel-feed me.

As I sat there, my body exposed and vulnerable, I couldn't help but admire how massive I had become. Naked on the couch, with my enormous stomach protruding out in front of me, I could barely fit on it anymore. My belly was so large it hung between my legs like a giant boulder, weighing down on me with its sheer size. Every inch of me was soft and jiggly from all the excess fat that had accumulated over the years. My stretch marks spanned across my flesh like a roadmap, a testament to the journey that brought me to this point. Behind me, my ass overflowed the cushions, bouncing up and down as I jiggled. Whenever I moved, it felt like a small earthquake had just struck, all my excess fat quivering with the movement. I looked down at my body and felt in awe of how it had changed over the years. It was almost a miracle, how my ass and chest had become so enormous, and I couldn't help but be filled with love for the person that transformed me into this.

As I waited for you to come back, the nerves and energy were building up inside me. It felt like a caged animal kicking and screaming to be set free. Finally, I heard you coming back from the kitchen and craned my neck to see. Voluptuous as ever, you padded across the hardwood, a gallon pitcher of light brown shake in one hand and a funnel mask dangling from the other. I knew you enjoyed this part—the way you threw your hips out more than usual, your eyes smoldering with deep lust as you saw all 500 pounds of me relaxed on the couch. We had no need for words; our relationship was well past that. You placed the pitcher down on the coffee table and proceeded to strap the mask to my face.

The funnel mask went around my head like a soft blanket, wrapping itself around each of my cheeks and encircling the back of my neck. The rubber mouthpiece was cool against my lips as it was carefully secured in its place. I could feel the straps pulling tight against my face, but not uncomfortably so. With each movement I made, the mask would follow, like an extra layer of skin protecting me from anything that may come. Despite the anticipation and trepidation that had built up inside me, I felt surprisingly calm and safe with this extra layer around me now. It felt like a protective cocoon that nothing could penetrate, no matter how hard I tried. In the darkness behind the funnel's frame, I saw your eyes staring at me, and I knew that you were as committed to this process as I was. Your hand traced a line down my cheeks, growing chest, bulging heavy belly, and ended with a firm grip on my thigh. We decided since I could not speak with the mask on, our safe word would be gripping your thigh.I felt your hand relax on my thigh, and I followed your hand as it grabbed the pitcher. Every second of movement was in slow motion; it was happening—I was going to be funnel-fed like a massive lardass.

Your arm strained slightly holding the pitcher as it reached the rim of the funnel. You waited. My eyes were locked on the lip as it hovered just a millimeter away from dumping thousands of calories down my throat. A smile crossed your face, gentle and glowing, savoring this moment—another milestone in our relationship as feedists, piggies first taste of how you plan to grow them past 600, past 700. With one quick motion, you tipped the pitcher, and I watched as the thick creamy shake cascaded down the funnel.

The first few gulps were a struggle until I matched your pace and opened my throat. I barely needed to swallow as the pressure of the liquid poured down my throat. Rich chocolate coated my mouth as the thick and heavy shake streamed down my stomach. My stomach roared at me, stretching and screaming to push any food back out before it had a chance to settle in. I took quick breaths in between the gulps to make sure I had enough wind to continue. The thick shake was filling me up quickly and stretching my stomach to its limits; I could feel every inch of me expand painfully as every mouthful was stuffed inside of me. I could feel my body give in, the fatigue and heaviness set in as I struggled to gulp down the shake. Every swallow felt like a battle inside my stomach, but fuck that, I needed to consume it all—my pure sexual desire to be as full as possible and grow for you helped me push past any discomfort. I could feel it pooling in my belly, stretching it out, making it even larger.

After all 500 lbs of me had been funneled, for several minutes, I just sat there motionless, all of me growing and stretching with the shake. I heard you walk over and heard the sink turn on, the sound of you washing the pitcher and funnel out. I could feel the cool air rush down my throat. My head was reeling from the thick shake, but I felt the pressure in my stomach decrease as I felt your hand trace down my leg. My head was now spinning; I had never been this full of food before. My skin was tingling from the soft tug of gravity pulling me further and further into myself. My mind was foggy, but I could still feel your hand rubbing my thigh and digging under my gut. I could feel your arms strain to lift my gut as I moaned and burped. Your hands reached the fat-padded mass that was my genitals, and we both sighed as you gently massaged it.

My breathing was heavy and labored, but in that moment, I felt nothing but ecstasy. The combination of fullness, pleasure, and being accepted for who I am transformed me into a new person. My body was still growing and expanding with the food inside me; it felt like the shake was settling and filling every crack in my stomach. Your hands moved back up to my chest, tracing circles around my belly button before curling around the back of my neck and pulling yourself into me. There we stayed motionless for what seemed like hours until finally, your lips touched mine, signaling that it was time to break out of our trance and begin our journey together as feedists.

#fat #feedist audio #male feedee #female feeder #female feedee #male feeder #ffa #fa #weight gain #feederism kink #belly play #fat belly #hi babe #choclate or strawberry base for your funnel feeding?

[eriexplosion]

Replacements time, I didn't need my heart anyway.

The way that Wrecker was fully going to take Omega's food rations, I get it I am also not thinking when I'm hungry. But this combined with his line in Pabu about being full for the first time, they were just NEVER provided enough rations to adequately fuel Wrecker, not even before they had to puzzle through buying them themselves. The kaminoans had to know his calorie intake needs okay and they simply opted NOT to fill them. Justice and a nine course meal for Wrecker.

"It's not affecting life support. We're fine!" Tech is going to come back with like a dozen injuries he simply didn't deal with yet because he was technically able to function with them, so it's basically the same as being healthy.

I do love Echo's grouchy REPAIRS WOULD GO FASTER IF I HAD SOME HELP, but the feels punch of seeing them bickering in the pilot and copilot seats and then flashing forward mentally to Echo gazing sadly at the empty chair. I'm hurting my OWN FEELINGS.

I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE REASONABLE TO STRAP GONKY IN? DO YOU WANT A FIFTY SOME POUND (MINIMUM) DROID SLIDING AROUND FREELY IN A CRASH SITUATION?

Another Wrecker head bonk, no wonder his chip activated it's been under percussive maintenance this whole time.

CROSSHAIR WEAPONS KIT MOMENT. Which they have just been steadfastly ignoring because it hurt their feelings to think about it.

Further evidence they simply haven't been thinking about it: Echo like THEY CAN DO THAT? when Tech reminds them that the chip can influence behaviors. Yeah what did you think they did, Echo, just provided a tiny little nudge? But I think it's just very hard to fully grasp the scope of something like that. Yes almost every single clone is under the control of an inhibitor chip, yes it's strong enough to make you turn on your own squad, yes that's in ALL of their heads right now, just not functioning properly.

I just love Wrecker not giving that much of a shit about being shot. That hurt, but he still misses Crosshair.

Anyway this squad contains pure concentrated avoidance juice, if they just don't think about it then Crosshair didn't betray them.

Rampart and Tarkin together creating a solid layer of slime all over the room. I just hate them watching him through a one way mirror talking about him like an interesting object. (Though I do like the moment where he stares at them straight through his own reflection, he knows he's being watched the whole time)

They literally do not address him once and he looks so unimpressed just looking between them like he's waiting for anyone to notice he's there.

Tech looking at giant clawmarks in the siding: well those weren't there when we landed. Treat something like an emergency challenge, impossible.

"I'm part of this squad now too, right?" *Tech and Echo look at Hunter, they're NOT taking a stance on this* Assigned dad by committee

"I'm angry at myself. We don't leave our own behind." "Then we'll find a way to get him back. Somehow." AND THIS IS WHY THEY ALL NEED TO BE TOGETHER, THIS IS WHAT THE SHOW DESPERATELY WANTS US TO WANT, THE TEAM IS NOT COMPLETE UNTIL IT'S ALL OF THEM.

I might have paused just before the start of the attack on Gerrera's camp for an inordinately long time but it's just a genuinely distressing scene.

Does contain a GREAT transition back to Hunter & Omega though.

"See it?" Well Hunter it's both flashing AND beeping, so yeah I think Omega sees it.

The way that Hunter straight up would have died out here if Omega hadn't gone with him okay, just would not have come back. (Omega is going to continue to be the key to making sure everyone survives I think.)

Back to Onderon for more highly uncomfortable war crime scenes. Truly I don't think that the show that has Crosshair shoot a woman at point blank range would have many reservations showing us Tech's body. (Yes I'm going to be like this the whole time I'm SORRY)

But ohhhh my god I need Onderon to come back somehow. I need it to become relevant. I think a lot of the time people do want to pass over it because it's horrific and like it's not one of the several things Crosshair does wrong of his own free will. But it's also still something that he remembers doing, all of it, and I think it's pretty key to why he eventually tries to stay with the Empire. What do you do when you've done something so horrific, when maybe you've been told it wasn't your choice and it wasn't your fault but you still remember giving the order, you remember every sight and sound and smell, and you remember at the time it made so much sense to do it. You can even remember the reasoning you came up with to ease the way. What do you do when you've done something so bad that you think that the only way forward is with the people that forced it onto you in the first place?

Anyway fucked up that they gave that one soldier a flamethrower just so we know completely that those civilians were burned alive, that's great.

Back to Hunter thinking he has had this child for a day and a half and has already lost her on a deserted rock somewhere.

"Soldiers know the risks of battle" what about the risks of Crosshair because like Crosshair is the cause of 100% of his squad's fatalities through this season.

Crosshair in the cleaned out quarters with all of the doodles and marks still on the bunks, going to his own and everything that made it his has been cleared out of it. They even took his walls of boxes. Just completely alone in their old room with nothing but the reality of what he did. I wonder if guilt comes easier when they're not in battle.

AND JUST THE CONTRAST WITH THE ABSOLUTE SWEETNESS OF OMEGA GETTING HER OWN ROOM ON THE MARAUDER. MAKING A BEAUTIFUL AND WARM PLACE FOR HER THAT STANDS OUT FROM EVERYTHING ELSE.

SERIOUSLY MY HEART.

HER PRECIOUS FACE <3 God I do love this episode even though it wounds me in places.

#the bad batch rewatch

[echoedcrosshairs]

Foxglove ~ Commander Fox x F reader (part 3)

According the language of flowers Foxglove symbolizes riddles, conundrums and secrets along with ambition and creativity.

Summary: A small fancy caff shops pops up in the senate building. Commander Fox is not amused.

Slow burn, enemies? to lovers, Commander Fox x reader, Commander Thorn x reader (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, Smut, implied smut, cannon violence and talks of cannon related violence.

Part 2 Part 4

Masterlist

3.9k

Mando’a: guuror (be fond of a person) kar’taylir (hold in the heart) ~> a Crush

Rex and Kix kept you behind them as they entered the hall which seemed to aggravate Fox further. Kix pulled you aside away from the tantrum unfolding suggesting the both of you put up the signs so they can deal with him. You nodded stunned, you stared at Kix and then at Fox a moment of fear filling your face. Their clones, thinking the word made your stomach turn, what if Kix is like that? No Kix watches sappy romance movies with me and ask to kiss him, he's nothing like Fox. The thought soothed you as you started walking.

Kix grabbed the stack of papers, "The commander will be fine, he's just use to getting his way," handing you part of them.

"I hope so."

Both of you moved mindlessly attaching the posters here and there. It was an adventure within itself exploring the lower levels of senate building seeing where the other shock troopers were stationed, many took tiny stacks of peoples to post around the barracks and other local clone areas. The gesture gave you a little pep in your step as the both of you finished putting up the posters by lunch. You heard a beep automatically taking your pad laughing when it turned out to be Kix's, "Their all waiting in the Cafe with lunch."

"I'm starving," you admitted.

"You should have said something, I always have ration bars...." He remembered you've never tried  the grime they got for nutrition, as equally balanced as it was it was still bland.

"Their delicious, I like the yellow ones," the comment caught him guard but he kept his mouth shut.

Kix kept the appropriate distance away from you as the rest of the soldiers broke apart for lunch, appearing to me your guard as you took yourselves back to the commander's wing. He pulled out your chair before taking his own. Their was trooper food for the five of you, he watched you dig in without being phased.

"You know there's real food down the hall," Thorn said arching an eyebrow at the sight.

"This is fine," you shrugged, "More then enough for me. Working in filing you don't really get a lunch, you eat when and if you can," you admitted.

"It will probably be more calories then your body needs at one time," Fox said.

You choked on your bite of you, "Excuse you?"

"Fox is saying this is nutritionally made for us, we consume twice to three times what the average person does to keep up with our output on duty. Long story short, you might feel sick as it is denser then it appears," Kix said calmly.

I'm pretty sure that was not what he meant, but you bit your tongue. You put down the food walking around the counter grabbing yourself a cup of water before returning to your seat finding Rex on a call.

"Yes, General," he nodded shutting off the holo interface.

"Gotta go?" You asked.

"Before first light, I can still stay for a movie or two before I have to head back to the barracks theoretically we should only be gone a couple days but with General Skywalker and the war can't be sure."

You nodded, "Be safe,"  letting them get back to eating in the awkward silence. Rex gathered all of the trays motioning for Kix to follow him, "We'll get out of your hair for now, Ma'am, look forward to seeing this open when we return."

"Ma'am," Kix nodded returning the formal gesture, "I'll be here when you get off work."

When they walked off you looked at Thorn and Fox still sitting at the table, "Caf?" you asked.

"I would love some," Thorn spoke up.

"I would... appreciate a cup," Fox said eyeing you, you had sat eating food that was below you and didn't even seemed phased when Rex told you they had to leave. He eyes your movements, you didn't flatter in any of your movements. Is she putting on a brave face or did meeting us change her? He mentally scowled himself for his curiosity. Fox noticed you wouldn't look at him as you handed him the cup, "I am sorry about my outburst earlier," he mumbled.

"What was it about?" you asked flatly handing Thorn his.

"Discretion."

"Ah. Thank you for the concern, Commander."

"Well we're going to get back to work," Thorn said giving him a little nudge towards the door.

You patiently waited at the table for the droid to shove up with some of the last shipments of the menu selection for the wall and some mild soldier decor for the bland walls. The rest of the day went by in flash getting everything set up for the grand opening tomorrow even cutting out a tiny section for a break room office for overstock storage if you needed a moment alone. Smiling you looked at the finished product wiping the sweat off your forehead. Hearing several footsteps behind you, "We're not open yet" you barely got turned around before your hand almost dropped your drink, "Chancellor Palpatine, it is an honor." You watched the man eye the room noticing Fox, Thorn and a few other  guards you met in passing clustered around him escorting him.

"This is simply tremendous, I can not help but marvel at how fast you accomplished this."

"The senate worked light speed for this to be approved, I simply wished to be able to show you all my gratitude but moving just as fast."

"You mind if I tried something?" he asked.

"Anything you want, Chancellor," you smiled.

He opted for the Mocha, your stomach fell at it was the only thing on the menu you had yet to taste yourself. You made it for him trying to keep the shake out of your hand from being detected as you handed it to him. The moment he smiled after taking a sip you exhaled, "I hope it is to your liking."

"This is delicious and this is made with the soldiers caf?" he asked looking at the cup.

"Any coffee can taste good depending on how you tend to it while it's developing it's flavor profile."

"I look forward to tasting more of your work," he smiled, "I'll see you at the opening. "

You left like someone was in your heart having a speeder race, the moment they left you grabbed yourself a cup of cold water the trembling shaking the water over the lip of the cup splashing over the counter. The chancellor took time out of his schedule to show up and is coming back? Your mind wouldn't quiet racing you sat yourself against the wall as your legs turned to putty underneath you, the weight and reality of it all colliding together in explosions. Eventually you started hyperventilating and passed out.

Kix waited outside the building not want to disturb Fox further with his presence when he saw a Coruscant ambulance pull up, he was shouted at to hurry up and get into realizing the injury as at the commanders wing. He allowed training to take over, taking the stairs a few at a time at the elevator was busy. He found Thorn and Fox's offices empty and his stomach fell.

"How long has she been out?" He asked striping the pack off his back.

"I don't know, we escorted the Chancellor here an hour ago and when we got back she was out," Thorn said.

"She will be fine," Kix confirmed, "I am assuming she overworked herself," he looked up to see Fox ushering the other medics away, glaring at him as he did it, "Her electrolytes are down and her oxygen level is two points below average," reflexive Kix tugged your feet down so you were laying flat on the floor, "more then likely due to the odd way she passed out. There no sign of any ailments," he tugged one of his various stims out of his pack over inserting into your leg, "It should be a few more minutes." The minutes always felt like hours to him as he waited either it was something as simple as fixing a broken nose or a major wound. "Thank you, Commander Fox," Kix said noticing him on the outskirts of the room watching telling the other medics the situation was under control.

Fox rolled his eyes not bothering with a comeback, "How long did you keep her up?" he snapped noticing you still weren't moving.

"We finished the movie, watched the sequel and passed out. That's it."

"Sure."

"I don't fuck on the first date."

"Not you too," Thorn groaned.

"Apologizes, I am not a fan of having my character questioned."

"Alwaysa'gentleman," you breathed trying to sit up feeling Kix's firm hands push you back down, "You passed out, you need to take it slow," he said keeping you from getting up, "How are you feeling"

"I am one with the floor," you muttered feeling pain in your back from its cold flat surface, Kix chuckle but begrudgingly pulled you up into a sitting position, "What happened?" you asked.

"Di'kut, you over did it and passed out," Fox grumbled walking into the room, "What were you thinking?"

"As the medic... I outrank you, do not aggravate my patient or you will be ask to leave."

"Di'kut?" You asked ignoring him, the word foreign on your tongue.

"Idiot."

Kix carefully helped you stand up feeling like a glass doll, "You're done for the day, the place is as perfect as it is going to get."

"But-"

"No, your done," Fox growled, "Thanks for the paperwork," Kix shot him a glare, "I'm walking with both of you," Fox added, "So grab your stuff."

You arched an eyebrow but dug out what little you typically brought to work meeting both of them at the door, "Night, Thorn!" The two men took their respective distances as you moved through the building. It was barely perceptible but you saw Fox hanging a little closer. There were several scowls as the three of you moved down the street, you noticed more No Clone's signs and it made your stomach crawl and threaten to come up. The audacity of people here in the inner worlds.

"How are you feeling?" Kix said nonchalantly taking out his scanner seeing your vitals almost return to normal.

"Honestly, I could use a shower, a nap and a huge cup of coffee not in any particular order."

"No coffee, your sleeping," Fox stated.

"Yes, sir," you giggled, "Honestly sleep sounds so good."

"We can just sleep," Kix whispered.

"I'd like that."

Fox stayed quiet, wanting to tell her to cancel tonight but having a medic there would be beneficial if anything other complications arose. He drifted back to regulatory distance when he noticed he was out of sync with Kix. He was relatively silent the rest of the way to your apartment besides the occasional grunt when Kix had tried to include him in the conversation about holofilms.

"Make sure she gets rest," Fox said eyeing up and down, seeing that your color had fully returned, "Expect me to be here in the morning."

"Is that really necessary?" you asked.

"It's not negotiable," Fox turned leaving with the Medic and headed back to the guard building, why did I say I was going to meet her in the morning? Farking civvie. Fox remembered the paperwork he now how to fill out groaning but thankfully Kix had been there so it only was about half of the normal load for an incident. The walk back to the building seemed emptier then normal, the usual glares and occasional comment against clones but something about it just left... off and he couldn't put his thumb on it.

Kix took your coat and hung it up for you, "If you're going to shower you should use lukewarm water just as a precaution."

"Wanna join me?" you teased.

"Tempting but you need rest," Kix smiled, any other time he would have been more then thrilled and scolding himself for turning it down, "Raincheck when I get back, assuming you don't over work yourself again?"

"Awe, not even to make sure I don't use hot water," you said giving him a wink, "as long as it's a promise when you get back."

"Trust me, it's a promise," he said sinking himself down into the couch watching you walk towards the refresher. He smiled at how domestic it felt being away from the barracks but it also felt strange being away from his brothers for any prolonged length of time, even spending the night felt like forever to him. He heard the water running and peaked at the modestly open door checking for steam but it never arrived.

As suggested much to your aching muscles complaint you kept the water cool, tenderizing the muscles as you washed which helped. You dried yourself off giggling when you found his shirt laid out for you on the counter. You put it on expected to see shirtless but he was still sitting in the couch completed covered with a smirk on his face, "Ma'am, did Gar issue you to me because damn you look good in my shirt," he couldn't keep a straight face at the end and buckled over laughing, "Happy Fives?" he spoke into his com and you heard his brothers laughter and hung up on him. Your face was bright red as you curled up next to him on the couch his strong arms curling around you, "Sorry Mesh'la, I got dared to say it," Kix said awkwardly.

"It was actually really cute," you admitted, "I take your brothers are playful?"

"You have no idea," he groaned, "Fives is the brother they should have warned you about."

"Actually Hardcase and coffee is the only direct one I've been warned out."

"Yes, that, never do it," he laughed, "Rex?"

"Yes. Speaking of which how does the dear captain feel about this?" you asked curiously, "he seems like one for regulation."

"He has a... unique understanding that we are still men," Kix offered, "So movie and sleep?"

"Horrible cooking, movie and then sleep?"

"You ate trooper food for lunch, I think anything you make it gourmet in comparison."

"It was delicious," you said nonchalantly getting up trying hide the sound of the smirk.

"Should I get a fire extinguisher?" Kix jested back following you over to the tiny kitchen, "It wouldn't hurt," he rolled his eyes watching you cook.

"FOX!" Fox heard Thorn call, shock stick in hand finding a scowl on Thorn's face with his ear pressed against the hall, "Womp Rat's, we have to exterminate tonight."

"Great, more paperwork. I'll go brief the Chancellor," Fox set the stick back in his office, using his security to get pass several restricted doors to approach the Chancellors office. He used the back of his knuckles to knock hearing the voice to come on, "Pardon the interruption Chancellor, may I have a moment of your time?"

"Ah, yes Commander Fox, what is on your mind."

"Sir, unfortunately we need to seal this building for a rotation. There is vermin outbreak of womp rats in the wall, we need droids to come purge the building," he watched the Chancellor look down at this schedule before answering, "I will still clearing the senate, thank you for taking care of this haste. I hope you and all your men enjoy a day off."

"Thank you, Chancellor. I will send in the drones at 10pm sharp assuming that will give you plenty of time."

"That will be perfect, thank you Commander."

Fox gave him a curt nod of acknowledgement before above facing and striding out of the room typing out a ping to the guard to clear out when the droids arrive. He scowled realizing your com channel wasn't in his device and he was to proud of a man to ask Thorn in case he didn't have it, his scowl intensifying realizing he was still going to get up early to come personally tell you to go back to bed. He kicked himself for not grabbing it while he was up in the offices and didn't want be seen backtracking over something so small.

You were tucked into Kix's arm, nuzzled up next to his chest breathing him in realizing the shirt smelled the exact same. His hand traced against your arm feeling your breath start to fade into sleep, "I'll let myself out," he whispered kissing your forehead, "get some sleep." Your eyes were started feeling heavy as gravity was pulling them down, "you smell good," you whispered before his breathing soothed you to sleep.

"You too," he whispered, letting himself enjoy a couple private hours just watching the movie listening to you sleep listening for any breathing difficulty or restless before he left to go get endlessly teased to bed before getting shipped out. He would have sworn he saw Fox duck in the  apartment next from yours as he was leaving.

Your fingers reached out curling for the place Kix would have been but the spot was long since empty and cold. You shivered with a while stretching before realizing the noise that woke you was Fox's name being moaned. You tossed a pillow at the wall before typing out, 'Ash, quiet down some of us are trying to sleep.' It got quieter but it was still enough to make you want to cover your ears. It was early in the next  rotation and it woke again,'Tell him to quiet down and behave if he expects me to be seen with me later.' The apartment falls into deathly silence and you were any to finally rest until the bastard pounded on your door waking you up. Still in Kix's shirt you swung open the door once you looked through the eye hole and saw it was him, letting him see that Kix was gone.

"Next time bring coffee," you groaned leaving the door heading to the mini coffee counter which paled in comparison to the cafe, letting your head rest against the refrigerator, "Want coffee or just going to stand their menacingly?" You heard the two footsteps and the door shut.

"Senate building is closed today," he grunted sitting down on the couch.

"So you fuck my neighbor loud enough to wake up and then, wake me up violently banging my door, just to tell me there's no work today?" you asked handing him a cup of nothing but flavored expresso and sipping on your own.

"Yes."

"Commander, you need to work on your people skills," you grumbled, "Hungry?" Fox gave you a short nod. You dug out a variety of snacks and fruit slices setting them on the table not having the energy to cook yet, "Eat whatever," you said yawning sitting on the couch next to him leaning towards the armrest. First the look alike and now my neighbor, but there's no way he could have known right? No he should have known my room was next door. Simmering in your annoyance you sipped the scorching cup watching him nibble visibly taking you in and especially inspecting your neck.

"Kix let me sleep and left last night so stop searching me your not going to find anything," you told him coldly.

"Good."

"I don't understand you."

"Good," you rolled your eyes at the reply.

"She kick you out?" you asked.

"Yes, thanks to your message."

"Good," you tossed back, getting a little growl out of him, "Kept me all night on a day I could have slept in."

"79'a?" He asked arching an eyebrow, "Thorn wanted to know."

"I was planning on going," you bold faced lied, "but next time he can just message me himself."

Fox shrugged, "Know how to get there?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Playful you tossed a pack of one of the assorted packs of snacks at him, "Man of few words, good," you laughed, "at least I can count your vocabulary with my fingers," you added snorting.

He scowled, "I might be a man of a few words, I am however articulate enough to only need a few. Now get dressed."

"Now?!"

"I didn't say later."

You scowled prying yourself off the now warm body position sunken coat to go find something decent to wear this early in the morning to a cantina. You opted for simple and fitting pants and a lose shirt, close enough, "Fox?" With in a few moments he appear in your door way, "if you haven't showered from last nights.. activities, you can if you want."

"Thank you," he mumbled heading towards the refresher.

The man drives me crazy but at least he has manners, you heard the water running and the door wide open. He's probably not use to showering outside the barracks. As you walk by you catch a glance at how well defined the commander in all the right places. His bronze complexion highlighting every well toned muscle. Your breath hitched causing you debate not going out tonight, every sensitive placing tingling wanting to be touched. Wish Kix would have taken me up on the shower offer. You melted into the couch hearing the water shut off hoping the scarlet across your face was gone.

"Liked what you saw?" if the scarlet wasn't gone it surely wasn't going anywhere now.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Your face tells me a different story, let's go," he was already opening the door before you even stood up. He was full tooth grinning as he saw the blush across your face, “Your face also tells me I’m built better than Kix.”

“Shut up, Foxy,” you growled at him.

“I was the quiet one last nigh.”

Your fist itched to make contact with his face, you weren’t one for violence but he was getting on your last nerve this early Morning in the day, “I bet you whimper like fox,” you decided to say.

He pinned you with his eyes, “That better not be an invitation to find out” he moved staring down at you ignoring the glares of passerby’s, “because it would be on the men’s counter,” he added before walking again towards the tram.

Reluctantly you followed him wondering how much trouble Kix get in if he sent you orders to stay home so you could avoid being around him. The rest of the trip was silent, thank the maker. You stayed closed to the clone reserved area but not next to it in case he made another comment so you could elect to ignore it. Fox eyed you but focusing his eyes on the people around you in a protective stance, it wasn’t often that tram crime happened this far up but it still happened and the last thing he wanted from his brothers was an earful. He had a sneaking suspicion he was going to anyway. Groaning he found Gree waiting outside hearing you say, “At least there’s a splash of color besides red.” He growled when Gree offered you his arm escorting you inside. You all just loved pissing him off, especially Gree understanding the look of death in his eye cackling when he finally understood.

“What’s funny?” You asked as Gree ushered you inside the booth,

“Foxy’s got a secret,” he laughed.

“Duh,” Thorn said appearing out of the thin air, “The man is a walking secret.”

“Guuror kar’taylir,” Gree said winking at his brother in Mando’a

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