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haztory · 3 months

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['sex' by the 1975]

⤷ atsumu miya x f!reader; best friends, references to infidelity, pining, sexual content (w.c 3.1k)

“it’s not sex.” he insists between mouthfuls. a drop of mustard dots the corner of his mouth. you stare incredulously.

“are you joking?” you ask. atsumu just shrugs his shoulder, intense focus saved for the burger held in his hands. practically inhaling a third of it in one bite as he brings it up to his mouth.

“‘s not like it’s the real thing.” he bobs his head side to side in consideration of the sandwich before he’s grabbing at the fries in your lap, “can i haf some.”

the carton lays practically emptied from his pilfering next to your abandoned chicken nuggets. three remaining, absent of consumption in favor of a bewildered stare at the man seated beside you on his bed.

“fingering is penetration, that’s sex.” you say simply.

atsumu raises a brow, “yer gyno having sex with ya?”

“that’s different.” you level a stare at him, one that’s serious and fierce and that communicates everything you mean in the single look alone. he meets it with one of his own, familiarity and uncommunicated languages all the rage between the two of you. “she doesn't make me cum.”

“neither does yer boyfriend.” he shrugs, taking another large bite of his burger as you screech in offense. your hand meets his bicep with a sharp slap and he grabs at it in pain. “ow! ya were the one that told me that!”

”some people take a minute to figure it out.”

”sounds like its taking a lot longer than a minute.” he mutters to himself. “look, its a lost cause. just dump the guy before it gets anywhere. ya haven’t had sex yet, he’s got a weird face, dude cant tell a fake orgasm from a real one. why are ya fighting me on this?”

“fingering is sex! your body count would be zero if fingering didnt count.” you insist loudly and atsumu rolls his eyes. he crumples the foil his burger came in and throws it across the room, cheering loudly when it makes it into the bin in the corner of his room.

his room is much the same since the last time you visited. photos of passing years sit framed on the desk— an image of he and osamu with their arms wrapped around each other, taken right before atsumu left for the olympics. another of you and atsumu placed right next to it, you leaning over his shoulder and him laughing loudly, beer bottles held deftly in hands and drunken flushes decorating your faces. momentos of faded high school memories, interspersed with flashes of young adult realities.

its more sophisticated than it once was. minimal in furniture, and of the items that decorate the room they’re the perfect reflection of a twenty-four year old athlete. his closet is lined with designer gifted clothes, but his desk chair remains stacked with undone laundry, the basics of his everyday life found in the plush cushion more than on the hangers. the jacket you’re currently wearing was stolen from the top of that pile just after delivering a pointed comment at how cold he keeps his apartment.

its a far cry from the bedroom he used to share with his brother, the one you remember at the dusk of previous memories. it was cramped and contained, lines between the two boys constantly blurred and you having to learn rather quickly where to step and when. but even now, as he lives on his own in a city a bit further from you than you’re comfortable with, not much has changed. you still sit on the left side of the bed and he takes the right; you still eat burgers on his bed and steal his jackets, and he throws papers into trash bins and insists he could’ve made it professional were he not already in volleyball; you still moan and complain about the woes of daily life and he still listens to them endlessly, interjecting the same amount of dumb enthusiasm as you know him to have.

there is still much in common that remains between he and you. trusted familiarity, endless comfort; a bubble that remains whole and precious, unaltered despite life dealing its hand to you. you’re convinced there’s no one else in the world that gets you quite like atsumu does.

there’s also no one in the world that works you up, quite like atsumu does.

atsumu stands from the bed, retrieving your own trash from your lap and chucking the rest of it in the bin. lithe and lean, he moves with a body that is sculpted to perfection as he turns off the overhead light and instead turns on the desk lamp, submerging the room in the lowly warmth of its glow. days are shorter now and the sun has just made it return home, leaving you to the dim luster of a pleasant comfort.

its quiet, intimate. words entirely inappropriate to describe the weekly hangout with your best friend of seven years.

pushing thoughts aside, you fight to remember what the whole point of the conversation was about. a boyfriend, right. your boyfriend.

right.

“and he does not have a weird face, he’s just… interesting. it’s what i liked about him.”

“revolting. i’m this close to spiking a ball in his face. it would be plastic surgery for the dud.”

“you’re being mean.” you tell him.

atsumu scoffs loudly, “and yer being stupid! yer the one that’s complaining to me about it. yer really gonna date a guy who can’t figure it out when he fingers ya? what happens when ya actually have sex with the bozo?”

“it takes practice. i don’t blame him for not being able to get me there on the first try. i see him later tonight so i’ll talk to him about it. it’s hard to figure out how to turn someone on and then try to, you know, get me there—“

“woahwoahwoah—timeout.” atsumu hold his hands perpendicular to one another, forming a ‘t’. his eyebrows practically touch the hairline of his bleached hair. “he doesn't even turn you on?”

“not everyone is good at everything, like you.” you mean it sarcastically, but it comes out short and meek. it’s embarrassing to have to cover for the misgivings of your current beau, but there’s an obligation to. a point to make, especially to the man in front of you.

you’ve met the ex-girlfriends, heard their feedback for the man before you. an average of six out of ten in boyfriend material, but he knocks the ball out of the park when it comes to the bed—or so you’ve heard.

(aya, the most recent girl to have made her grand exit, followed you on instagram and asked you to not be a stranger. whether that was so she could have her in for atsumu or because she really wanted to be friends is still up for debate, but the gesture ended with a message in your directs.

[9:17] it sucks, he’ll always be more in love with volleyball than any girl he could ever date. and even if he didn’t, you’re his number two anyway, so there’s really no way i can win.

[9:20] i’m super sorry, aya. if it’s any consolation, i really liked you two together. he’s just slow, i’m sure you guys will figure it out.

[9:20] you were our biggest argument.

[9:20] so no, i don’t think we will.

[9:21] i’ll miss that dick tho, best orgasm of my life. rip

there’s not much you can say to a message like that. there’s not much you can say to the surge of smugness that courses through you either, so you don’t.

you don’t tell atsumu about it.)

“alright. sit up then.”

his voice startles you. “what?”

suddenly, he stands before the side of the bed, looming horribly tall over you as he peers down at you. he shoves his hands in the pockets of his gray sweatpants, the fabric unintentionally pulling down ever so slightly and the waistband of his black boxers peeking out in greeting. the light of the desklamp casts a halo over his silhouette.

your attention is drawn upward and it’s hard to deny the familiar pang that tends to strike through you every so often in times like this. the simple effect of being near him. atsumu is unfairly handsome, and while it’s hard to put a name to the feeling that pulses inside of you when the light catches him just right or when a smile is even more charming than usual, the ache is always the same.

it’s fleeting, you convince yourself. something you refuse to settle on for too long. contexts and suppressed hopes pushed to the back of your mind along with the other unspoken things.

“come on.” he gestures two fingers upward. “i’ll show ya how easy it is to turn a girl on.”

its curiosity that has you standing up on your knees on the comforter, nothing more. its the wonder of how exactly your best friend makes his move on women that leads you to be so close to him, chests practically touching. breaths intertwining as atsumu stares a kind of serious into you that you’ve never been in the receiving end of before.

“im gonna touch ya.” his voice is low and your heart beats erratically in your chest. you nod.

lifting his right hand, cold fingertips run across the heated skin on the back of your arm. digits trailing upward as he paints a pathway up. and it’s nothing—just his hand on your arm, nothing new or different, and yet your breath hitches. innocent in theory, but something solidifies on atsumu’s face, the familiar signs of determination playing out on his face. it’s less babied now, more formed and angular with the growings of an adult man, but it’s the same focus in his eye, the same clench in his jaw.

his fingers trail up then down, repeating a circular figure on your skin. the sounds of your mingling breaths the only whispers between you two. your eyes dart down to his lips, but his stay fixed on you. studying every flicker of your eye, every inhale.

his fingers break from their pattern and trails down to your wrist, then your palm, then your own fingers. tracing them, dancing with them, intertwining them slightly only to pull them away.

“we should stop.” you whisper after a moment of his caress.

“why?” he asks and a quick glance to his gaze reveals that he knows why. he’s just making you spell it out.

it’s unfortunate that the only reason you want to stop is out of principle, and not because you truly have any reservations about any of this. your boyfriend of three months all but an annoying buzz in your ear.

“this feels like cheating.” you tell him simply. atsumu cocks his head to the side, charming smirk pulling across his lips.

“i’m touching yer arm. this isn’t anything, yet.”

“you shouldn’t be touching my arm like this.”

“why? cause it’s working, right?” his voice drops to a low rumble, words vibrating through you and shooting straight to your core. “see how easy it is?”

“that means this is cheating then, right?” the question is posed, but it’s obvious it’s more to convince yourself than him. because all that he’s done is touch your arm and you’ve felt the bubbling of that unnamed something heat within you. it feels the exact same as it did seven years ago when you met him; feels identical to the moment four years ago when a drunken night led to a drunken kiss that was forgotten about the next day; feels the exact same whenever he looks at you like he does now, like you're open for the taking. a pointedly very different response to the dread that comes when getting intimate with your actual boyfriend.

and while atsumu may be doing this to prove a point, to rub it in your face that he was right and you were wrong, you don’t trust that you’ll be able to not carry this with you. to not want more than you should.

“nah.” he says simply, knowingly. “if i kiss you then it’s a problem.”

“oh, so kissing is cheating, but fingering isn’t?”

“can you shuddup? always runnin’ that damn mouth.” he renders you quiet.

satisfied with your silence, he brings his left hand to cup your jaw, thumb and index finger grasping your chin and tilting your head to the left, leaving your neck exposed. he leans in, nose tracing a line up the column of your neck until he meets the juncture between that and your jaw. it’s a simple movement, and yet it feels like eternity in his hands. his breath hits steadily against the expanse of your cheek as he whispers into your ear. “does he touch ya like this?”

the gasp you release is guttural.

the arm previously fiddling with your fingers quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you flush to him. you have no choice but to embrace him with your own arms, hands cupping the back of his neck to steady yourself. it’s impulse to run them down the expanse of his back, to feel the muscles that he’s worked so hard for, but you resist. keeping yourself locked on his neck and nothing more, as though you being pliant to his ministrations wasn’t jeopardizing enough.

his thumb inches upward, stroking the corner of your lips sweetly. “does he take his time with ya? cause i would.”

its then that his lips meet the skin of your neck, tingles erupting from the connection. all of its effects causing an inadvertent clench within you. “it’s not about shoving fingers inside and just doing it. its about doing it the way you like it. and i’d make ya tell me how ya like it. since yer always runnin’ that damn mouth, might as well put it to good use.”

its all-encompassing, the traitorous burn between your thighs. and yet, this is the unnamed something, all that you’ve pushed away.

“astumu—” you whine and its in that exhale of yours that he releases a sigh of his own. one that almost sounds restrained.

“tell me to stop.” he says quickly, lips mouthing against your neck as he utters the words.

and you don’t want him to. not really. the desire is feverish, unlike anything you’ve felt before and to end this is to end the sweetness of something you’ve yet to taste. if it were to be with anyone you would want it to be with him.

you could take the teasing, the “i-told-you-so” from osamu, the obliteration of a friendship for the uncertain promise of something more. but it isn’t right. not like this. if mountains were to come to a head, you want it to happen because they were gravitated to each other, not because the earth told them to do so.

“stop.” you tell him, and it’s like a hot brand that strikes him. he’s immediately pushing away from, untangling his limbs from you and stepping back into the swath of darkness in the room.

his breaths are deep and heavy, that much you can tell from the distance. shuttering exhales that wrack his chest. you can hardly make out his irises, only see the intensity of dark pupils. it’s hard to believe that he could be feeling the way you do, just from the simple touch alone. a quick glance down to his grey sweatpants proves otherwise.

a moment, then two, pass by. ragged breaths filling the distance, words spoken in the silent language you’re both fluent in.

“does this mean i’m easy then?” you ask quietly, an effort to ease the wall of tension.

“no.” he shakes his head gently, “just means i know ya.”

he knows what he means to say, the words and all of their yearning practically knocking against his teeth to escape. it’s the long haul, almost a decade long game of carefully advanced chess pieces to get to this point. blocked, temporarily, by the appearance of the new guy. a boyfriend of yours that atsumu met once, a guy he barely attempted to learn the name of. for reasons of his own, their knowing pertinent only to him. held deeply within the urges of being seen, the desires of having you wholly, completely.

there are plenty of other ways that he could do this—probably be more eloquent about it. admit pushed away feelings when you’re not in the midst of ranting about how your boyfriend just can’t get you off.

but the tension irks him. thick enough to cut a knife, always following the two of you in the long held stares and closeness in which you two gravitate towards each other. the answer to your boyfriend problem is standing right in front of you. he knows what he wants you to do when you see your boyfriend later tonight.

there are certain shoes that atsumu is convinced he could fill better than your boyfriend.

your face is flushed, and the desk lamp makes you look angelic under the lowlights, and you're wearing his jacket like you always do in a way that makes him believe it was always meant for you. and he’s not entirely convinced, even without the cloud of lust that hangs over him, that you don’t want this just as bad as he does.

osamu once said that atsumu wouldn’t admit his feelings to you even if they hit him over the head. they’re here, now. settling in the distance between you two, bobbing in the capsizing waves of want. they ache to be spoken, knock repeatedly against his gritted teeth.

but a choice is made in that moment, with you looking at him as wild as you are. atsumu will admit to the selfish and prideful part of himself, but this—you— aren’t something to just take. the taste of your neck, the feel of your body against him, it must be given to him, earned. not because he needs to make a petty point, but because you want him to.

he cares for you too much to be reckless in how he plays his cards. even if osamu will bust his balls for it later.

you have a boyfriend. and he can’t force you to change that. it wouldn’t be right, he’s given you the taste, he hopes it will be enough.

“like that.” he says after a moment, pushing down his pride and long held desires for you. “tell him ya like it like that.”

a/n: why is it that whenever i stop writing for kuroo, the one i always want to write for is atsumu. also big ups for my beta who entertains me and proofreads me at all hours of the day. i love you sanju!!!!!!

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #atsumu #atsumu fic #i love a best friends trope wtf #also i promise i was writing my boss kuroo fic and then i heard this song and was derailed for THREE DAYS #BIG THANK YOU BY THE WAY TO MY BETA

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hysteria-things · 2 months

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can you do a smut with dom!nate x sturniolo triplets sister where they're at a restaurant with the triplets and nate starts fingering her idc abt anything else but like please im begging you 🙏🙏

FORGIVE ME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x sls!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being friends with benefits with your triplet brothers’ best friend isn’t the smartest idea. especially when nate teases you at a restaurant with your siblings there, there’s only one way to forgive him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, mentions underage drinking, fingering, public, oral (female/male receiving), p in v

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,277

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: first sturniolo’s little sister fic😯 i find this trope fun LOL

i miss why don’t we they were MY one direction.

hope you like it anon!

a burger sounds so good right now. you think to yourself before being rudely interrupted when a foot taps your shin from under the table. your annoyed eyes are met with chris’. “what are you getting?” he asks.

you shrug, continuing to scan the menu in front of you. “probably a bacon cheeseburger.”

your triplet brothers invited you out to dinner at the finest establishment around: texas roadhouse.

they picked up nathan along the way, who’s sitting silently next to you as the other three are squished in the booth across from you. the four of you are close and know everything about each other, which is the best kind of sibling relationship.

well, they think they know everything about you.

what they don’t — and will never know — is your friends with benefits with nate.

it started randomly at a high school party, where the two of you got drunk and made out which led to you guys fucking in the bathroom. it’s bizarre but true.

turns out, the two of you enjoyed it and this whole thing went on from there. that was months ago, by the way.

while taking a sip of your shirley temple, a hand is placed on your thigh. you look over to the culprit, who is talking casually to your siblings.

his hand teasingly moves up and down, each time getting closer to your waistband. your breath hitches as the waitress comes over. “are you guys ready?” she asks in her customer service voice, smiling as she clicks her pen.

“you go first, y/n.” nate says innocently, taking his fingers and now putting them in your pants to rub hard on your clit. he knows you love getting penetration there.

little shithead.

you clear your throat. “c-can i have a bacon cheeseburger, please?”

the waitress nods, writing on her notepad. “with what side?”

you feel two fingers going inside your wetness, moving at a medium pace. “mmm— fries!” you say loud and quickly. you clear your throat again. “please.”

the three across from you give the same weird look, as if silently saying ‘what the fuck is the matter with you?’

soon, the others put their orders in and go into their conversations. nate keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you, a low whimper leaving your mouth.

when he knows your brothers aren’t listening because they’re arguing about whatever the fuck, he scoots closer to you and leans to your ear. “you’re so wet, baby. is it all for me?”

you grip his wrists, trying to pull him away when you feel your orgasm approaching. it’ll be embarrassing to cum in your pants. “nate—”

“you’re coming back to our house, right?” nick asks, causing nate to pull out his fingers and readjust in his seat.

“yup,” he replies, giving your thigh a tight squeeze.

you storm into your bedroom, nate following closely behind. you shut the door and lock it, putting your hands on your hips and tapping your foot like an angry parent. “are you trying to get us caught? what were you thinking?!”

he chuckles. “cut me some slack, will ya?”

he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to where your chests touch. you try your best to give him your best mad face, but to him, you look adorable. “i’m sorry.” he fake pouts.

he tugs at your shirt and slowly lifts it over your head, throwing it somewhere on the ground. his lips are mere centimeters from yours. “forgive me?”

“we don’t have time. they’ll get suspicious,” you whisper.

he shakes his head, now taking off his shirt. “they think the texas roadhouse got to the best of me. i’ll be in the bathroom for a while.” he winks, pecking your lips.

you bite your lip, not losing eye contact when you start to unbuckle his jeans. “i don’t think i forgive you.” you say sweetly, getting on your knees and simultaneously pulling his pants down.

“guess i’ll have to see.” you continue, eyeballing his hard-on through his boxer. you start to rub your hand over the fabric, a groan leaving nate’s mouth.

you give the tip a little kiss before pulling down his underwear, his dick aching for attention. you wrap your mouth around him, going as much as you can down his base.

moistening his lips, he throws his head back. he always loved the feeling of your warm mouth around him.

you start to bob your head, the gulping noises intensifying the faster you go. “shit.” nate exhales, taking his finger and lifting your chin so you can look at him.

he starts to thrust his hips to match your bobs, gagging in the process.

he pulls out of your mouth and in the blink of an eye, he flips you so you lay on your back. despite your bed being quite literally a foot away from you guys, he’s now on the ground with you between your legs. “forgive me yet?”

“n—” you don’t finish the word when he starts to dig into you without warning. even better, he takes his thumb and plays with your clit like how he did at the restaurant.

you moan too loudly, covering your mouth with your palm. the last thing you want is for your brothers to hear you. your other hand travels to nate’s head, grasping onto his hair tightly. “i’m close.” you mumble, making him pull away.

“what the hell?” you sigh annoyingly.

“shush.” he says, flipping you over once again to where you are now straddling his lap. “ride me.”

you smirk, kissing on his neck down to his chest. he grows impatient, lifting your hips and playing yourself on his cock. you whine, leaning back up straight and grinding your hips to feel him rub the right way on your walls.

“fuck.” you whimper. he grabs your hips and starts to bounce you, a squeal coming out of you. “nathan, fuck!”

“best be quiet, baby.” he smirks. “don’t want them to hear their little sister on their best friend’s dick.”

you whine lowly, biting your lip to quiet your moans. he sits up and you grab both sides of his neck, looking deep into each other’s eyes. he’s smiling smugly, but your face is contorting with pleasure.

he groans when he twitches inside of you.

“did nate fall asleep on the toilet?” matt’s voice echoes down the hallway, three pairs of footsteps along with it.

“the ribs probably gave him food poisoning or some shit.” chris replies.

nate moves you faster on him, panting lowly in the process. there’s no way he can stop now. he’s way too close.

the doorknob shakes, startling the both of you, but you guys keep going. “what the fuck? why is your door locked?” nick asks.

“fuck y/n, i’m cum—” you swallow his words by giving him an opened-mouthed kiss. you moan softly into his mouth, making sure you cum first before lifting yourself off of him.

he groans into your mouth when his cum makes a mess on his abs. “hello? earth to y/n?”

you pull away, staying in position to quietly catch your breath. “s-sorry, what?” you stammer.

“why is your door locked?” this time, the question is asked by matt.

“changing,” you answer, nate giggling silently.

there’s an awkward silence for a few beats before it's broken. “okay…” nick says in a hesitant manner, and their footsteps eventually recede.

“holy shit.” nate throws his head back to laugh, and you smack him on the chest.

“be quiet,” you mumble, getting off from the floor.

thank god you locked the door, or things could’ve ended terribly.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld

#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nathan doe #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic #✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!

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dailycass-cain · 3 months

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As promised many months ago to end this day, here's a 🧵of the insanity Cassandra Cain's "human" body can do due to what David Cain put her through (besides the two obvious ones of body language and various forms of killing he trained her in).

The best issue that showcases that is of course Batgirl Vol. 1 #14 where various government agencies look at the footage Cass got caught filmed in.

The first few pages are literally showcasing how inhuman, but still bordering on human she is due to what David Cain put her through.

This is always fully covered throughout Batgirl Volume 1 and is usually forgotten when writers and editors tend to have their job. Not saying any names or storylines of any RECENT kind where a WAR broke out in GOTHAM.

is still salty YES

We've seen Cass's speed all the time throughout the Puckett run. To just showcase the prior issue's bullet dodging or her issue of Tim (#18) be child's play (along with her taking several shots up close and dodging each one from a certain corrupt government bastard).

Nah the best example of Cass's true "speed" is in #34 facing the mob boss Ving and his gang.

Yeah, you're seeing that right she is faster than a freaking bullet. Surprising how SOME seem to forget that in other comics. 🙄

Something even Batgirls remembered (#15) when Cass was playing shogun dodge with Cluemaster who was trying to shoot her with a shotgun.

But what of Cassandra's strength? Just how strong is she really?

#19 where Cass is faced with the obstacle of three-inch quartz preventing her from escaping a gas chamber. So let's examine just how thick three-inch quartz is.

Well, let's google just that.

A SEVEN on the hardness scale. Further research says that it can only crack due to "extreme impacts" which wouldn't ya know:

As for her body itself, Batgirl/Ghost: The Ressurection Machine #3 suggests this about Cass being immune to A LOT of poisons:

Something Batgirl Vol. 1 "sort of" delves in #50 when both she and Bruce are doused with a new batch of super drug but it turns out they were both immune to it due to them being built differently than normal humans.

This is all the more surprising because a few issues prior to (#46) Cass is doused with a version of it, but you could say given what she "sees" Cass is under A LOT of stress (the building tension with Bruce, Babs breaking up with Dick, Superboy/Black Wind stuff). Plus she does "sort of" snap out of it to beat the bad guys in that issue.

Just like in #51 she avoids the pheromones to Poison Ivy even though she is showing signs of falling under the hormones but snaps out of it due to willpower (something Bruce was almost succumbing to before he fully snapped out of it too).

It really feels like "this anti-poison" ability Cass had was all but forgotten once the series ended. Of course, naturally with a certain "infamous" story ONE YEAR LATER, but also Batman & Robin Eternal as she is affected by Fear Toxin (among other stuff too).

#9 & #59 showcase that David Cain shot Cass regularly so much that she can not even feel it. This could explain also HOW she was eventually able to dodge bullets and become so fast.

#22 also showcases this as well so this is not something simply just randomly put in. This was something the writers wanted to show the sickening lengths David Cain put Cass through.

Again, #14 brought up Cass's metabolism and how off the charts it was. I think something we just overlooked is that in #26 Cass slept for 20 hours a day for four days (or perhaps longer) straight until she fully recovered from fighting Lady Shiva.

That's not even going under the amount of food she consumes. This little detail was first showcased in #39 when Cass ate like she was freaking Goku.

This little bit of detail was brought back in #66 when she ordered THREE burgers (I'm assuming with everything on it) with three sides of fries and a BIG milk.

Amusingly, this detail was recently brought back in Nightwing #106 & #108 where she FEASTED on who knows how many pancakes.

Lastly, I feel this bit is worth mentioning as well from #47 with Doctor Lewis Friedman who started the theory on body language that David Cain made a frightening reality with Cass (shame he was never brought up again after this issue).

All this isn't even counting on the extremely LONG hours of shower time Cass picked up in the Gabrych run that even Willingham's Robin (which went on during this) teased (something again Batgirls kept up on).

So there you have it. The utter anomaly that is the body of one Cassandra Cain.

#cassandra cain #dc comics #insane things Cass can do #cass built differently

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bluecollarmcandtf · 3 months

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Am I Acting Weird?

Part II

I've been jogging on this treadmill for over an hour now. Cardio sucks, and I hate this old unventilated gym! When I joined the football team, I did it for the parties and cheerleaders! I just wanted to drink with the cool guys and get laid. I still do, but I haven't had a drop of alcohol in weeks. I can't even remember the last girl I hooked up with!

I used to think it was weird that I was suddenly working out all the time. It was like my entire personality had changed overnight.

I know it's not weird now. Max, my younger brother, told me so. I have to keep working out until I become the quarterback of the football team. Then I have to bulk up and train even more, so I can become a professional footballer. That's my new goal in life, and I can't wait for my little bro to be able to brag about being related to a pro athlete.

Sure, I never really wanted to play football professionally. If it were up to me, I'd be out drinking with my buds, but it's not up to me.

That's not weird right?

I shake my head and slow my aching legs. Droplets of sweat run down my face as I work to control my breathing. My whole body is sore from the conditioning. It doesn't help that this is my third workout of the day. Between my morning weight session, afternoon field practice, and this, I am totally whipped.

I stagger over to grab my workout gear. My night isn't over. I still have to bulk my stomach up for tomorrow.

With a frustrated sigh, I stomp out of the gym and march directly into the diner next door. I nod to the greasy cook behind the counter. I've become a regular here, so he knows me pretty well.

"The usual?" he grunts with a toothy grin.

I nod and sink into a booth.

Max, my little brother, got tired of me eating at the house. Apparently, it took our father too long to cook my bulking meals. Max has me eat here after my workouts, and I completely agree. Max shouldn't have to share our dad with me. He deserved to have someone at home cooking whenever he wanted to eat.

"Four burgers, fries, and a soda," the cook snickers as he slaps the tray in front of me, "A growing boy needs extra protein."

I grimace and turn away from the chef. His breath alone is enough to make me lose my appetite, but I take a big bite and swallow. I won't gain mass if I'm not consuming mass, and I obviously need to get bigger.

I've broken out into a second sweat by the time I'm done. Forcing myself to up, I have to adjust to my bloated waist. You'd think I'd get used to a packed stomach, but I always feel uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

I let out a belch and carry the dirty dishes to the back. It always feels weird strolling into an employees-only area like this, but it's part of how I get my meals for free. You see, the cook let's is nice as long as I take care of two things.

The dishes are the first thing.

"Leave the dishes," I hear his husky voice behind me, "I never wash 'em anyways."

I drop the dishes and turn the sink off, holding my gut as it growls in pain. My belly might ache, but I've got one more thing to do.

The cook watches me expectantly. He licks his chapped lips, and grabs at the bulge under his apron, between his two trunks of legs. He's already fishing the thing out. I know what he wants, so I drop to the floor. This has become just another part of my daily routine.

It's how I thank the chef.

I don't know how this became a habit, because I absolutely do not enjoy it! The man is filthy, and a man! I'm not gay! I like women, but I have to eat a lot to bulk up and Max liked the idea of me eating for free. It's not weird!

I let him manhandle me a bit, gripping my head and pulling my hair. The cook gets off faster if he roughs me up a little. He usually only lasts a few minutes, but it's the longest few minutes of the day.

It's not sex. It's just a transaction!

"Oh, yeah!" he growls with his eyes squeezed shut, "Yeah, boy! Fuck!"

I whip my head off his hairy crotch and jump to my feet. I spit into a napkin and wipe my mouth quickly. I know from experience that I won't be able to get the taste of sweat and meat out of my mouth until I brush my teeth thoroughly at home.

My part is finally done here, so I just want to leave!

"Can't wait to see you tomorrow morning, jocky boy!" he laughs, but I've already stormed out, marching down the street to my house. I'm trying not to think about how I'll be seeing him in a few hours for breakfast.

"Hey dad," I mumble, stepping inside.

"Boy," he answers dismissively, not even looking up from his work. As usual, he's wearing his home uniform: a suit and white gloves. I have a similar outfit for when I'm hanging around the house, but dad gets a lot more use out of his now that I'm constantly bulking up. Max is really the only one who seems to dress casually around here anymore.

I guess that makes him the weird one.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to start up a conversation.

"What's it look like, boy?" he answers gruffly, "I'm cleaning up after Max and his guests. Now, either get your uniform on and help or get out of my way."

His attitude makes me cringe a bit. Dad and I used to be really tight. We used to bond over sports and craft beer, but he doesn't really care about anything besides Max anymore.

I don't think he's gone to any of my games for the last few months. He's always cooking or cleaning for Max. I wish I understood. We used to tease Max all the time together, but now he gets angry anytime I try and bond with him. Like, it's totally normal and right for Max to be his new favorite, but I wish we could still chat every now and then.

"Sorry," I mutter.

My father ignores me and heads off to the kitchen in a rush. He looks erratic, and I can tell he's just as exhausted as I am. He's made it a habit of working extra hours at the office everyday. It's so he can bring home the biggest paycheck he can earn every week, but I know is affecting his sleep.

"Where is Max?" I ask.

My dad frowns, tersely responding, "Max took his guests to a movie in my car. The house needs to be clean and snacks need to be ready for when Max gets back."

"Oh," I sigh, "Are his friends staying over again? I'd stay up with you and help serve them, but Max said I should be getting nine hours of sleep every night."

"Go to bed, boy. I'll handle it," he states firmly, putting the final touches on the silver platter.

With that, my father picks up the tray of assorted snacks and walks them out into the living room. There he takes his place by the door and stands in his usual position. It's where he normally waits to welcome Max home everyday. Father and I know that someone like Max shouldn't have to put their own coat away or take off their own shoes.

"Alright, dad, see you tomorrow."

He doesn't answer. He's already standing still as a statue and probably won't move until Max gets back. Hopefully, my little brother won't keep him up too late.

Sleep won't be hard for me to find. I can barely keep my eyes open, and I pass out as soon as I fall on my bed. The rest of the night is a deep and dreamless void, while my stomach processes all the food I ate.

When I wake up, I find dad like this...

"Dad? Dad!" I give his shoulder a nudge.

He jumps to life, jerking his eyes around the trashed living room.

"Did you fall asleep standing up?"

"Maybe," he answers with shock, "Max had me holding everyone's coats while they enjoyed some beer. They must have moved to the bed while I drifted off."

"Aren't they a little young for beer?"

"Max and his guests are welcome to my alcohol whenever they want it!" he snaps back at me.

"Geez, ok."

"You have a workout you need to get to, boy," he barks, "And I'm going to have to hurry if I'm going to clean up this mess before work."

I stare at my father as he scrambles to clean up the living room once again. He looks even more exhausted and disheveled than last night. Hopefully, he would be able to clean everything up with enough time to shower and shave. I know that all of the household stuff is his responsibility, but sometimes it seems like too much.

With a shrug, I turn and step out of the door. My day is going to be the same miserable routine as the last. I'm not looking forward to any of it, but that's not weird. Like Max said, I'll just keep my head down, and power through.

#hypno story #mind control #gay ai art #servant

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f1version · 8 months

Text

ORDER NUMBER 16 ★ CL16

pairing: engineer!charles leclerc x scientist!reader (she/her)

summary: something about flirting with the guy you met at McDonald's at almost midnight.

warnings: fluff, meet-cute, probably unhealthy eating habits (aka mcdonald’s at midnight) because of work, the engineer and scientist thing is mentioned once, it is what it is (and it’s fluff)

word count: 1.2k

notes: originally wrote this in italian, like it made sense so it just happened, so have that piece of information!! also happy late birthday to this two baes @formulaforza & @strawberrysainz <33

“Welcome to McDonald's, what can I get you tonight?” The cashier said with a half-smile, they seemed tired, having the last shift of the day didn’t feel ideal anyways.

“Hi, can I have a six-piece McNuggets combo? Thank you,” you said, handing over your card, and Allison —according to the name tag— nodded, charging six and a half euros, handing it back with a ticket. Number 15. "Thanks again!"

A bar table, five four-seat tables, and the counter made the McDonald's a small place, a quick stop in small Maranello. You had the impression that you would be the only one there at 11 p.m. However, while you waited for your order, the door opened revealing a brown-haired man, his green —or blue? no— eyes finding yours for a couple of seconds.

"Number 15!" One of the workers called, making you look away.

Both of you reached the counter simultaneously, once again curious eyes stealing glances, there was something in him that attracted you. Maybe it was the fact that he was very handsome, or maybe it was the sheepish smile he gave you before greeting Allison.

"I would like a cheeseburger, thank you," you heard the stranger ask for and a slight smile left your lips, Cheeseburger, really?

You took your tray and headed to one of the tables, sipping on your soda. Order number 16 was called about two minutes later and you felt the movement a few meters away.

For the third time that night, green may be the only color available when the stranger sits at the table across from you, face to face with you. A small smile found it’s way to your lips, Was this guy serious? This is his way of flirting? Is it even intentional?

You watched him take the first bite of his burger and, as if it were a movie, the meat slid off the bun, his eyes turning away from yours automatically. A soft laugh left your lips, his cheeks turning crimson.

Suddenly the table in front of him seemed to be the most interesting thing in the world, his eyes following the pattern on it. This guy.

You softly tapped the table, the silence on the establishment enough to let him hear, his head shooting upward, giving you what you assumed was his ‘I’m embarrassed’ smile. You, confident enough in whatever this interaction was, tilted your head towards the chair in front of you, an invitation.

He changed seats, both of you smiling, searching for the start of a conversation.

“So, is your burger okay?” you said. The man seemed a bit taken aback, yet he laughed.

“I hope so,” he replied. He was smiling, pretty crinkles around his eyes as he took a couple of fries into his mouth, “That was a bit embarrassing”

You laughed, “Well, I think it was a good first impression,” you saw his cheeks flush again.

“Really? Then I’m the luckiest guy on earth,” he said and you laughed, taking a moment to tell him your name. His eyes widened, “Oh Right, mamma mia, I’m- I’m Charles”

You laughed and he followed, this was so awkward yet it felt right. Talking to him- Charles is very nice.

“So,” he imitated you, “How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight? And don't say because you were hungry,” Charles asked.

“Oh, I had the fantastic idea of leaving my job a little late, forgot I had an empty fridge, and I was hungry,” you answered. "What about you? How did you end up in a McDonald’s at almost midnight?"

"I wanted to meet a pretty girl, of course," Charles said, a grin on his face. You giggled softly, he broke his little act, “Actually, my reason is not that different. I was working on a few blueprints and when I finished, this McDonald’s was on the way to my flat."

“Blueprints?” you asked.

“I’m an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari”

“You’re lying” You smiled incredulously, he shook his head. Of course, this had to be more perfect, “I’m a scientist for Ferrari, Charles,” You took out your nearly new ID, “I got the job a couple of weeks ago.”

Charles chuckled, bringing out his own ID, "Well, what a crazy coincidence, isn't it?"

“A rather pleasant one if you ask me”

Your eyes met, and both of you burst into laughter.

This was such an unexpected thing, but in some way, it made sense. A lot of people living around Maranello worked for Ferrari, yet meeting one in McDonald’s wasn’t the most normal thing.

Additionally, Charles is gorgeous, his hair brown and a bit messy, his shape soft but defined, and his green eyes. They were like walking through an enchanted forest and ending up at the beach, turning and deep but also bright and colorful. You couldn’t help but lose yourself in them.

He looked at you sweetly as both of you finished your meal, his eyes drifting to your last nugget. A question appeared on his mind.

“Why nuggets?” he asked.

“What? You don’t like them?” you giggled a bit, eyes widening when you noticed his hesitation. “No”

“Well, it’s not that I don’t like them!” Charles tried to defend himself, laughter escaping him.

“Oh mamma mia, no no,” you dramatized, “Charles, you can’t call me pretty girl and then tell me you don’t like nuggets!”

"I've never tried them!" he said, eating the last of his fries.

Your eyes widened again, “What? Never?” Charles shook his head, “How is that even possible? Are you allergic?” you continued, one hand resting on the table while the other grabbed your soda.

"No, my mum always ordered a cheeseburger for me and it just stuck," Charles explained, one of his hands reaching for yours.

“Well, now I will have to make you try them!”

“Well-”

“Hey guys,” the McDonald’s employee, Allison, interrupted “It's almost half past twelve and we have to clean the place, so if you could please wrap it up! Thank you!”

“Yeah, of course,” Charles was fast to answer.

You looked at him, and he was already looking at you, cheeks flushed and you knew you were as red. Without talking, you finished eating your nugget and he finished his drink, honey eyes locking with each other. Why does it have to end?

“It was so nice meeting you, Charles,” you rushed out, not wanting to say goodbye.

He smiled knowingly, “You know, I would like to try some nuggets, maybe after work or on a weekend?”

And how could you say no to that?

“I would really like that”

“Yeah?” You nodded and he beamed, “It’s a date then,” Charles rapidly grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen from his pocket.

“Don’t you want to write your number directly on my phone?” you asked endeared, he was writing as fast as he could.

“For what?” he said standing up, and handing you the paper, “That takes away the cliché aspect!”

You chuckled, picking up your tray and dumping what was on it, Charles did the same. Both of you said goodbye to the —apparently very invested in your relationship— employees and left.

"My flat is one block that way," you said pointing to the right.

"Mine is one block to the left," he replied, "I guess not everything could be so perfect."

You smiled, "I’ll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course, see you soon," he said before taking your hand, squeezing it, and letting go.

3XX-XXXXXXX — Charles Leclerc ♡

Don’t tell anyone but I think I fell in love with this girl at Mcdonald’s!!!

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spidernuggets · 5 months

Text

Jason Todd x Reader

"Thought I was gonna lose you"

"Oh, baby, you can't get rid of me that easily"

You slammed into the hospital room where the nurse told you your boyfriend was at. You received a call from Dick almost 15 minutes ago while you were reading Jason's annotated Pride and Prejudice book, smiling at his little comments at the side. Once you heard "Jason" and "Hospital" in the same sentence, you quickly bookmarked the novel and ran out the door.

The four Titans accompanying Jason; Dick, Gar, Kori and Rachel, turn to you, but your main focus was on Jason. His eyes closed, bandages all over his torso, IV needles stuck all over and an oxygen mask over his face. Your heart beated faster, pushing the Titans out of the way to get a closer look of your lover, gently caressing his face.

"We were told he's in a coma," Dick immediately says. "There was a messy encounter with Deathstroke and-"

"And Jason jumps head in first like always," Kori interrupts, arms crossed, annoyed expression on her face, staring down at the boy.

"We don't know when he'll wake up," Gar says quietly.

You don't reply. All you can do is lean your forhead against his, praying that he'll wake.

You're not part of the Titans, but you've known Jason for years and he'd entrusted you with his identity, and soon after, neither of you could hide your feelings towards one another for long.

"He's going to wake up. He'll wake up soon," was all you could say, just barely above a whisper.

"C'mon," Dick quietly says, motioning for the Titans to leave the two of you alone. When the three members leave, Dick places his hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"He was knocked out but.. he was calling your name when he got out of the ER," Dick tells you. "He's strong. He'll wake up."

When Dick leaves, you pull a chair up beside the bed, sitting down and laying your head beside Jason's torso, holding his hand.

And that's how it remained for the next few weeks. Jason didn't show any signs of movement but you still stayed in that chair, only getting up to use the bathroom. Even with Dick's authoritative commands, telling you to go home and that he'll watch over Jason, you didn't move an inch.

Gar was the only other person to visit Jason, and occasionally dropping of some food for you, while the others focus on missions.

"He never stops talking about you, y'know," Gar suddenly says, placing a paper bag full of greasy food on the small table beside you. "Training, fighting, debriefing, he's always bringing you up. 'Do you think Y/n would be impressed with this move?', 'I have to go, I want to hang out with Y/n', 'Don't tell Y/n I got stabbed'. I don't remember the last time he talked about anything other than you," Gar tells you, repeating all the things Jason had told him about you.

Your eyebrows scrunched together and lifted your head up to look at Gar as he handed you a burger. "He got stabbed? When??" You asked, accepting the burger.

Gar lightly laughed at the fact that you know Jason can take a punch or a stab, but would still be concerned even if Jason stubbed his toe.

"It was a month ago. He's more than fine now- well. The wound, I mean," He corrects, knowing Jason's current situation is definitely not more than fine.

You sighed, looking back at your boyfriend. "Thanks, Gar," You say, a smile tugging at your lips as your grip tightened on Jason's hand.

"For...," Gar's head tilted, confused what you were thanking him for while quickly stealing one of your fries.

You shrugged one of your shoulders. "For being his friend. He's told me some of the stuff he's gone through. How some of the other guys treat him. Without a shadow of a doubt he's wreckless and impulsive. But he's smart. And strong and brave. So.. thanks.. I guess. For believing that he is all of those things."

Gar sighed and gave you a lopsided hug. "Of course. He's my teammate amd my friend."

You leaned into Gar's hold, hand on his arm, giving it an accepting and gentle squeeze.

You remained by Jason's side a month and two weeks later, only leaving the room to go back to your house, asking Gar to look after Jason while grabbing a pair of extra clothes, plus a hoodie and leather jacket you stole from Jason.

You fell asleep, hugging Jason's arm, not noticing how his other arm went over his body and rested on your head, stroking your hair.

"Wakey wakey, gorgeous," You heard a raspy, groggy voice call out to you. You blinked twice before processing that someone was calling out to you. Your eyes widen as you jolt up from you seat and saw Jason smiling up at you.

"Don't tell me you've been sleeping in that position for long, babe, that could not be comfortable," Jason tried to joke. You didn't even realised what he said. You were still processing that he's awake.

A few seconds of realisation later, you start breaking down, tears cascading down for face and sobs choking out your throat.

"Oh, mama, c'mere," He whispers, weakly holding his arms out. You lunge forward, but careful not to lean over his bandages. You sobbed in his bare shoulder as he shushed you, stroking your hair.

"You scared me," you whimpered.

"I know, baby. 'm sorry, shh it's okay, I'm okay." he assures, pressing a light kiss to the crown of your head.

"I missed you," you mumbled, your finger tracing shapes along his skin.

"Missed you too, doll," he responded. "I heard you, y'know. Rereading Pride and Prejudice, saying how stupid my comments were. Asking me to wake up. Talking to Gar 'n all," he quietly explains.

"Thought I was gonna lose you"

"Oh, baby, you can't get rid of me that easily," he tried joking once more, this time earning a skicker from you as you left a soft, lingering kiss on his collerbone.

Jason shifted to one side of his bed, leaving a wider space beside him. He patted the empty space next to him, telling you to lie with him.

"Jay, I can’t, your bandages-"

"They'll be fine, I promise," he interrupts you. "Just come here with me. I'll heal faster if I'm holding you," he says with a cheeky smile dancing across his face.

You roll your eyes, but as much as you wanted him to have space to heal properly, the selfish part of you took over and slid in beside him, craving his touch that had you starved for too long.

You lay your head on his arm and you gently wrap your arm over his waist as Jason's arm cradles your head, the other draping over your body, pulling you closer, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours. It was a deep and hungry kiss that you both missed as you tiredly nuzzle your fave against his arm.

"Get some sleep, beautiful," Jason says. "You need some proper sleep," he kisses your forhead.

You hummed in response, quickly falling into a quick, comforting slumber, Jason closing his eyes shortly after.

Bonus:

After what felt like eternity, you finally slept, better yet, in the arms of the love of your life, knowing he's okay.

After finally getting a break from missions, the Titans made their way unto the hospital to see how Jason's doing.

"If Jason hadn't start the mission on his own, he wouldn't even be in this state," Rachel ranted to Dick, the two of them carrying plastic bags full of take away.

"Definitely taking a toll on Y/n," Kori says. "That kid's seen better days"

The group stopped in their tracks, looking through the window of Jason's room, seeing the couple in each other's embrace.

"Jason's awake!" Gar exclaims.

Dick smiled to himself and started shooing the Titans back.

"Alright, Jason's okay, we'll come back later when he and Y/n wake up". He said, smiling once more at the sight of the two.

♡Might be an ass fic seeing as I tried not to fall asleep. So.... definitely spelling/grammar errors somewhere.. Anyways, Hope you enjoyed reading! ♡

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justsomerandomfanfic · 5 months

Text

Mysterious Boyfriend - Tenth Doctor X Female Reader

Title: Mysterious Boyfriend

Tenth Doctor X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Sarah OC, Lucas OC, and Jaime OC

WC: 2,768

Warnings: Reader is drunk, alcohol, mentions of throwing up (no throwing up happens), teasing, cursing, nicknames, and fluff

You let out an infectious laugh as you walked back over to the table with your friends, setting down another round of drinks and food. Sitting down on the leather bench, you let out another giggle, your head feeling light and fluffy. Reaching out, you tried to grab your vodka cherry, but your best friend quickly pulled it from your reach, making you pout. Your friend, Sarah, gave you a look, gesturing to you with an extra hand.

"Nuh, uh, sweetheart." She spoke over the loud, bumping music, "You're already super drunk, don't want you throwing up anytime soon."

"No fair," You muttered, stuffing your mouth with the greasy bowl of fries in front of you, "I am not that drunk."

Your second friend in attendance, Lucas, only rolled his eyes, giving you the same look Sarah had given you, "You are drunk. You had like... Four shots."

You threw your hands up in the air, "What!? I want to have fun tonight! I haven't been out to a bar in ages!" You exclaimed, waving your arms around for emphasis.

Jaime smirked at your response, resting her chin on her hand that was propped up against the table, "Yeah, you've been so busy traveling with that mysterious boyfriend of yours." She teased, winking at you before taking a sip of her beer.

Lucas only shook his head, mimicking Jaime's position; resting his chin on his open palm, "Yeah, that's right... When are we going to meet this mystery man of yours?"

You sputtered out a nervous laugh, brushing your hair out of the way, "I don't know guys..." You trailed off, shaking your head, "What have you three been up to anyway?" You tried to change the topic, but your friends weren’t having it.

Sarah quickly let out a full-blown cackle, her head falling back before she shook her head at you, "Oh, hell no! You have to tell us about him! It's been what? A year that you've been together?"

You nodded, taking a few bites of your burger before responding, "Yeah… A little bit over a year." You sighed out.

Lucas frowned at your expression, as did your other two friends, "Why don't you talk about him ever? I mean, I think I say this for everyone but you don't have to tell us anything that you're not comfortable with... We are just curious-"

"Super curious, mind you," Sarah interrupted.

Lucas stole a fry from Sarah's bowl in retaliation before continuing, "A lot of people are... Uh, secretive? Is that the right word? About their relationships. So, we totally understand if you don't want to tell us everything."

You chewed thoughtfully, sobering up a bit at his words, "Thank you, for the consideration. It's not that I don't want to tell you guys anything..." You let out a small chuckle, shrugging a shoulder, "I guess I'm still in that 'I can't believe this is real' stage..."

Jaime sighed dreamily at your words, "He must be amazing then."

You nodded, smiling at the thought of him, "Yeah, he is."

"Well, what's his name anyway?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her coke, "So we don't have to call him the 'mysterious boyfriend.'"

You worried on your bottom lip momentarily, quickly thinking, "Uh, his- his name is John... John Smith." You answered, remembering the fake name that he used when needed in your - sometimes rather dangerous - adventures.

Sarah, Lucas, and Jaime all looked at you with such curiosity and excitement, Sarah slapped the palms of her hands on the table, "What does he do? He's got to have a lot of money to be able to take you overseas and everything." She asked so enthusiastically, that she shifted in her seat, unable to sit still. “I mean, you’re always somewhere!”

You laughed quietly, "Yeah, he's a doctor."

"A doctor!" Jaime exclaimed excitedly, leaning forward, "Really? What kind of doctor!?"

"Doctor of medicine." You smiled lightly at their reactions, though, on the inside you were panicking slightly, "His specialty is medical regeneration." You told them, holding back the cheeky grin at your little joke to yourself.

Their reactions were almost instantaneous, "Where has he taken you? France? Italy?" Lucas then asked, eating more of his fries and taking a sip of his own drink, "I bet he's a romantic, taking you to all the wonders of the world." He muttered thoughtfully.

‘Through the universe and time, more like it.’ You thought as you nodded, grabbing a fry, "He says he hates that romance stuff, but he really is a pretty romantic guy… And he's taken me practically everywhere. In fact..," You trailed off, gesturing to the necklace around your neck, "I got this on one of our trips recently. In France. He gave it to me. But that was after he took me to see a concert that I was dying to see."

The necklace in question was a gift from the Doctor when he had taken you back to 1950 France, giving you the Dior necklace only a couple of years after the jewelry company was invented. And that was right after traveling to 1970 England to see Queen live for their first performance at Truro City Hall. Which was amazing, as you fully expected.

Jaime dreamily sighed again, her eyes drooping slightly as she mentally daydreamed, "I wish I had a cute partner that would give me things..." She trailed off before her eyes widened and she stared at you, "He is cute, right?" She asked, and you scoffed, waving a hand at her as if her question was ridiculous... Which it was.

You shook your head, a bright smile appearing on your lips, "Oh, don't get me started! He's gorgeous! Dark brown hair, always sticking out at odd angles no matter how many times he tries to fix it. Dark brown eyes that I can't help but fall into every time I see or look at him..." Your voice rose into the falsetto pitch, your cheeks growing warm as you spoke. "And those dimples... Oh, gosh, and that smile..." You said, covering your burning cheeks with your hands, groaning softly, "His smile makes my heart stop..."

"He sounds wonderful, and handsome..." Lucus spoke, laughing lightly as you gushed over your man. "But, uh, he does treat you right, right?" He asked and you sputtered out another laugh, tossing a fry into your mouth.

"Is that even a question? He's perfect! Such a gentleman... Always opening doors for me... He's funny, always making me laugh. He's so smug, but in a cute way, and he's playful." You paused for a moment before letting out a small chuckle, remembering the time he took you to a planet that was covered in a purple substance that was very similar to snow. You had both just played in that snow, making purple snowmen, and starting purple snowball fights which ended up with the both of you holding hands as you lay on the cold ground, laughing softly up at the pink sky. Your memories seemed to play in your mind like a slideshow, making your bright smile soften into one of admiration, "He can be serious too. And so protective. Always putting my safety first..." You whispered, staring off into space as you reminisced. “And he listens to me, gives me advice…”

"That's nice." Sarah spoke, placing a soft hand on your arm and giving it a squeeze, "He does sound wonderful. You must really love him."

"Love him?" Jaime spoke up with a small laugh, gesturing to you, "She's head over heels, whipped, smitten!" She spoke, pointing her finger at you mockingly, and you stuck your tongue out at her.

Finishing the rest of your fries, you glanced back up at your friends, "Who knows, you might be lucky enough to meet him tonight. He's picking me up in an hour." You shrugged, standing up from your booth, "And so before I have to go... Let's dance!"

For the next handful of minutes, you danced with your three friends, jumping up and down to the music that played loudly over the sound speakers! You let yourself get lost in the music, feeling as if all your problems and the world around you seemed to disappear into the background as you danced with your friends in the middle of the dancefloor. It was nice to just hang out with your friends. It had been over three months since you had seen them, and you had missed them dearly. It was nice to take a break from traveling, especially if it meant having your old group of friends there with you.

As the night began to wind down, you leaned against Jaime, arms looped with hers as you walked out of the bar with Lucas and Sarah. You let out another laugh, still feeling a bit drunk, having snuck one more drink and a glass of water. You were mumbling a song that had been playing at the bar, almost stumbling over your own two feet.

"Dude, we should not have let her have that watermelon Jack Daniels," Jaime laughed, pulling you closer to her, "She's probably gonna end up being super ew tomorrow." She teased, poking you lightly in the side, making you burst out in giggles once more.

Lucas shook his head at the both of you, "Yeah, she's gonna have one killer headache in the morning. That’s for sure." He laughed along as you continued to giggle. “I mean, can’t blame her, I might have one too.”

Sarah hummed, fiddling with the keys in her hands, being the driver since she only had one beer over an hour ago. "Where is this handsome, doctor boyfriend of yours, anyway, sugar?" She asked, looking around them, the city lights illuminating the street and sidewalk enough for everyone to easily see.

Leaning your cheek on Jaime's shoulder, you grabbed your phone from your pocket, flipping it open. "He should be here soon." And right before any of your friends could say anything more, your eyes widened with such joy when you noticed the Doctor walking down the sidewalk towards you; looking as handsome as ever in his usual attire. "Hey, honey!" You waved excitedly at him.

Your friends turned their heads, Jaime's jaw dropping at the sight of the Doctor making his way over. You shimmied out of her arms before falling into the Doctor's arms instead, wrapping your arms tightly around his thin, but strong, body. "Hello there, love." His arms automatically wrapped securely around your waist, instantly taking note of how intoxicated you were.

Suddenly, you pulled back, tugging on his arm, and pulling him over to your awaiting friends, "Guys! This is my boyfriend!" You giggled, leaning against the Doctor's side as you looked up at him with such adoration in your eyes.

Sarah immediately offered her hand, "It is so nice to finally meet you!" She said as he shook the Doctor's hand, who gave her a pleasant but slightly awkward smile.

Lucas was next, shaking the Doctor's hand with a grin, "Nice to meet you, man. She wouldn't stop talking about you once we got her going. Impressive profession, I must say, my mother's a doctor as well."

Immediately after shaking Lucas's hand, Jaime introduced herself, "Break her heart, I will crush your soul," She lightly threatened, smiling innocently as the Doctor let out a small chuckle.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all-" His sentence was interrupted slightly when Jaime gasped, tugging on Sarah's arm with wide eyes.

"He's British!" She whisper-yelled, making you laugh again, "You never told us he had an accent!"

You nuzzled your cheek into the Doctor's arm as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, "English accent, but yeah. I guess I forgot to mention that..." Doctor just stood back and watched everything happen, a small grin on his face as he watched you and your friends interact.

"You're killing us, Y/N/N," Lucas said, raising a hand to his heart, "You better give us all the tea next time we hang out." He pointed at you before gesturing back to the car a few steps away, "Well, we'll let you go. I got to work in the morning. It was nice meeting you, Doc." He spoke, saluting you both before looping his arm with Jaime's.

"Yeah, meeting you was awesome!" Sarah spoke, waving to the both of you as she walked backward to her car, "See you soon, girl! Call me!"

You waved back to your friends, "See you guys! Love you!"

As they got in the car, you watched with the Doctor as they drove away. Once they were pretty far down the road, you turned and looked up at the Doctor, "Hi..." You greeted him softly, a smile bright on your face as he leaned down to your height, giving you a kiss to the middle of your forehead.

"Hello, darling. Are you ready to go home?" The Doctor smiled, grabbing your hand in his as he led down the sidewalk towards where he parked the TARDIS.

"Yup!" You chimed happily, "Home sweet home." You let out another laugh, squeezing his hand as you walked up to the TARDIS door.

When the Doctor opened the door for you, he stepped inside, helping you slip your shoes off, and then helped you slip out of your jacket, tossing it to hang over a railing. Turning back to you, he paused to watch you spin around the TARDIS's console, humming some other song. A small, fond smile graced his lips, watching as you danced around, a happy look on your face. You looked beautiful - in every sense of the word; your hair flowing around you as you moved around the console in your party attire; the lights of the TARDIS making you look angelic.

You spun, landing perfectly in front of him, looking up at him with shining shimmering eyes. You were quick to wrap your arms around his neck, your head resting against his chest as he held your waist gently. "Did you have fun with your friends tonight?" He asked softly, swaying you both side to side.

"Yeah..." You looked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, "I missed you though..." You murmured softly, letting out a long sigh as you relaxed in his strong embrace, "You should hang out with us next time." You stated, pouting cutely up at him before your expression immediately changed, your eyes brightening as a thought popped into your head, "Oh! We should have ice cream!"

"I would love to join you next time, love," He spoke, lifting his hand from your waist to run it through your hair, brushing strands from your face and behind your ears, "But, right now... We should get you to bed." He spoke, kissing the top of your head before guiding you out of the console room.

"Alright." You agreed, yawning, your hand reaching up to hold onto his.

The two of you made your way up the stairs, and then down the hall. The Doctor quietly opened the bedroom door, leading you inside. You dropped onto the bed, falling back, your head and hitting the pillow; you quickly ranted on and on about all the different ice cream flavors you knew during the next couple of minutes the Doctor helped you change into your pajamas - which was a pair of sweats and one of his many button-ups. You were out like a light right after, which amused the two-hearted man as he grabbed you a glass of water and ibuprofen for your head in the morning. Heading back into the control room, he started up the TARDIS to float around somewhere safe in the galaxy before heading back to you.

Dressed in his own pajamas, the Doctor slipped into bed, smiling as you subconsciously wrapped your arms around his stomach, your leg tangling with his own as your head nuzzled into his chest. “Love you.” You muttered out sleepily, making the Doctor smile.

Wrapping his own arms around you, he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head before nuzzling his cheek into your hair, “Love you too…” He replied before staring up at the ceiling; his hand trailing up and down your back. The warmth of your body seeped through his shirt as he held you close, listening to your even breathing. It was moments like these that he felt lucky to have found you. And for the rest of the night, he simply lay there, holding you, until his eyelids became heavy and he fell asleep.

#cute #fluff #x reader #x female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #x you #x y/n #doctor who #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x female reader #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x y/n #doctor who x reader #dr who #doctor who fanfiction

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extra-stout-stories · 18 days

Text

Stuck At Work

Reblog if you like meet-cute soft feedist romance and fat4fat. Nothing scandalous or explicit in this one, just a tale of fast food fun on the job, written in response to this request. Thanks for the ask, anon!

She didn't mind being stuck at work with him for the night.

Tuesday nights were quiet after the dinner rush, with not many customers stopping in, either at the drive-thru or the counter. On really slow nights, like tonight, the manager sometimes had her cover both. She couldn't quite reach both the indoor cash register and the drive-thru window from the same chair, but it was just a couple of steps from one to the other, so she spent most of the downtime scrolling through her phone and sneaking glances at him.

He was busy in the kitchen, preparing burger orders as they came in and refreshing the contents of the french fryer and shake machines. He had a chair of his own that he spent most of his time in when it was just him in the kitchen, and she couldn't help admiring how deftly he moved, reaching with a calculated economy of motion to flip a burger with one hand and pull a shake with the other.

She couldn't help admiring his belly, either. Their shifts didn't overlap very often, and while they weren't the only two fat people who worked at the restaurant, they were by far the two biggest. She felt a sense of kinship with him. Kinship, but also attraction. The way his folds of fat seemed to swallow up the shirt of his regulation uniform, the way she could sometimes catch just a glimpse of belly peeking out at the bottom… the sight of him made her more than a little bit flustered, and she couldn't help imagining what he might look like with his uniform off, how deliciously big and soft he'd be if she had him in her bedroo--

Snap out of it, she thought to herself, as the intercom of the drive thru crackled and she punched in an order for a cheeseburger and two kids' meals. He'd think you were crazy if you told him about feedism. And you're not supposed to flirt at work. She sighed. Even a slow night's work kept them just busy enough that it was hard to carry on a conversation in more than snippets, and after the disaster with her last boyfriend she had gotten cautious about admitting to guys that not only did she not mind being fat, she liked it, and she liked it when they were fat too. Another lonely night at the register, she thought to herself before sneaking another glance at him. His back was turned, and she could see his enormous rolls of backfat quivering in the snug uniform shirt as he reached to dip another basket of fries in the fryer. At least I get to enjoy the eye candy.

The intercom crackled to life again. The car was definitely full of teenagers, and they were definitely drunk. Or high. Probably both. She tried to make out the names of particular value meals from the din of at least four or five voices shouting their orders, changing them halfway through, cracking up laughing for no reason, circling back around to ask for the same thing they asked for in the first place. By the time they were finished she had cued up a half-dozen burger meals with sodas, three chicken meals, two extra baskets of fries, and (thanks to a particularly loudmouthed voice who kept saying "I can't decide!" in a mock whine), a trio of extra-large thick shakes, one each of chocolate, strawberry and vanilla.

"Big order coming in, huh?" She could just hear his voice over the crackle of the fryer. Her double chins quivered as she turned her head to see him smiling. "Yup. At least it's the last one for the night. 11:59 on the dot."

"I'll get to work." He was as fast and efficient as ever, and a moment later she was hefting herself up from the chair with a grunt and stepping over to the window between the kitchen and the register where he had just placed a tray of food. Suddenly she blushed. My shirt is riding up, she thought. Gripping it with both hands, she tugged it down quickly and fiercely where it had started to expose a few inches of her own swaying lower belly. Fortunately, his back was turned again. She reached for the tray of food.

"Wait, there's more. Since we're closing up, I'll just bring the rest out to you now. That way you don't have to make two trips."

"Thanks." She took another few steps and slipped into the drive-thru booth, her hips just barely brushing the doorframe. She set down the tray and slid open the window to pass the bags out. Behind her, she heard the kitchen door open.

Suddenly, there was a sound of coughing and laughter, a deafening roar and a streak of light as the car sped past the window, a screech as it braked suddenly at the turn out of the parking lot, and a final roar as it sped off into the night.

"Damn it." She slid the window closed and turned around. "Dine and dash."

"More like drive-thru and das-- WHOA!"

She hadn't realized he was almost on top of her at the entrance to the booth. How did she not notice? He must have stepped towards her just as the engine was revving. With the same swiftness he used when he was juggling the fryer, the grill and the shake machine, he managed to drop the tray he had been holding while catching the handles of the bags that had been sitting on it. He instinctively stretched out the other hand out to steady himself, though, and it crashed straight into her shoulder, sending her spinning at an angle back into the drive-thru booth. Losing his own balance as she stumbled, he swung forwards, just barely avoiding a crash into the plexiglas window as he caught himself with his shoulder against the wall opposite the one where her back was pressed.

They were face to face and belly to belly.

"Whew." For a moment all they could do was breathe, heavy and ragged with the sudden exertion. She saw him try to take a step back, only to find that between the window and the doorframe, his ass and thighs were wedged in so tightly by the pressure of their bellies that he couldn't do it. He tried again.

"I think we're stuck." There was such a sheepish look on his face but she couldn't help laughing. And with her face just a foot or two from his -- their bellies took up a lot of space -- she was even more struck than usual by his boyishly charming eyes, his quivering triple chins, his enormous fat cheeks that dimpled as he smiled back. "What a way to end the night, huh? At least it's closing time."

"This is like something out of a fetish cartoon!" she blurted out. Oh my god. I can't believe I just said that.

"Like a what?" There was a quizzical expression on his face, but still a hint of a smile on his lips.

"I mean -- it's like something you'd see on the Internet."

"Yeah? Where on the Internet?" He laughed, and when his belly began to jiggle, hers did too. She realized suddenly that both of their shirts had ridden up, and the bottoms of their bellies were touching, skin-to-skin. Despite the embarrassment of the situation, and the further embarrassment of putting her foot in her mouth, the sudden realization was electric. It felt so good, so warm, so fat…

Snap out of it! she told herself once again. "I don't know," she said, suddenly desperate to change the subject and get out of the booth. "Places."

"Places, huh." The smile on his face was still there. "Well, talk about places. We're stuck in the drive through booth." He managed to extend an arm out to pull the curtain down over the window. Reversed from their vantage point, the letters on the opaque plastic curtain read: CLOSED.

"There you go. Now at least nobody on the Internet will see us." He grinned. "I'm not sure I can get out of here without either tearing my shirt off or giving myself a nasty scrape on that doorframe. But at least we won't starve to death." He wedged one of the bags between their bellies, opened it up, and pulled out a double cheeseburger.

She couldn't help laughing. "How can you be so relaxed? We're stuck in the booth!" Something about his tone of voice was putting her at ease, almost like he didn't mind being stuck here with her, their fat bellies pressed together as their shirts rode up. But that's silly, she thought to herself. He's just trying to calm me down.

"Well, there are worse places to be. And like I said, we're not gonna starve." He unwrapped the cheeseburger and took a bite. "Unless I get flensed by that doorframe, it's actually pretty comfy."

"Flensed?"

"Yeah. Strip my blubber off. I mean, I am kind of a whale." Seeing the sudden blush on her face, he grinned. "C'mon, I know I'm a big guy. And a big guy's gotta be able to have a sense of humor sometimes. Like when he's stuck in the drive-thru booth with the cutest girl on the entire fast food strip."

At that, she blushed even further.

"Aren't you hungry? You don't eat when you get nervous?" He popped the last of the cheeseburger into his mouth, reached into the bag, and pulled out an extra-large carton of fries. "But seriously, I've seen how you look at me sometimes. You're an FFA. It's obvious. And I'll be honest, it's hard not to look at you that way sometimes, too."

Her breath had returned to normal from the shock of crashing into him, but her heart was beating faster now. He laughed and lifted a handful of french fries to her mouth. "Here, eat! If we're stuck here forever, at least it'll be a good last meal."

The mouthful of moist, juicy fries was what finally put her fully at ease. "You're right. A good meal and good company." I can't believe I'm doing this, she thought as she reached a hand out to touch the side of his exposed belly. "I'm glad it was you and not the manager."

He smiled. "That's for sure. You know I never said anything to you because it's against HR to flirt at work, right? But so is eating the food from a dine-and-dash. And I'm pretty sure getting stuck in the booth is against the rules too. So we might as well enjoy ourselves."

"Good thing those kids ordered all three kinds of shake."

"You can say that again. If it were just vanilla I'd get bored." He winked. "Tell that one to your mysterious Internet site, big girl."

She laughed. "Okay, you got me. It's feedist stuff. How did you know?"

"I can see your phone from the kitchen. You're not supposed to be scrolling 'hashtag: fat boys' at work. But I don't mind. Do you think I got this fat by working at a fast food restaurant?" He paused for a beat. "Well, okay, I did. But doing it on purpose was the fun part."

"Mmm. Can I do this on purpose?" Squeezing his belly with both hands, she leaned in to kiss him. With her tongue already in his mouth, mingling with the lingering taste of the french fries and anticipating the milkshakes, all he could do was put a hand on her own exposed belly and squeeze back yes.

She didn't mind being stuck at work with him for the night.

#feedist fiction #mutual gain fiction #mutual gaining #mutual weight gain #soft feedism #feedist meet cute #wg fiction #weight gain fiction #wg fic #mutual feeding #fat4fat

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justmeinadaze · 9 months

Text

We're A Family Part 17 (Steddie X You)

A/N: Thank you for your patience with me. I'm still moving a bit slow but I've been living in my comfort fics while writing a new comfort fic so yeah <3

Warnings: Dads Steddie and Mama Fem Reader, SMUT, mostly near the end with a lot of passion between da boys. FLUFF , we have an adorable addition to the Munson-Harrington crew <3 as well as Ro's birthday. ANGST because I'm me, Steve does something stupid with the best intentions, Him and Eddie get into a fight, Eddie's dad makes a cameo, Eddie talks about first moving in with Wayne, Dylan talks about divorce (dont panic! Its fine. We're all fine. Im not that angsty.) and I think that's it.

Word Count: 5369

“Ok, ladies and gentlemen, what are the bets this time around?” The doctor grins as he looks at your little family.

“We’re at 3 to 2 with girl being in the lead.”, Steve beams.

“I love it. Let’s take a look.”

It had been about four months since you found out you were pregnant again and this time around was rough. The first few months were spent throwing up pretty much everything you ate and your cravings had been stronger than they had been before. You found yourself getting grumpier and more irritable which the boys didn’t seem to mind, doing everything they could to make things easier.

You got the house by the lake and everyone (especially Wayne) was excited for the move. Aurora’s birthday was coming up soon which, while still happy, always made you and Eddie nervous. That first year his mom showed up at your door and the two birthdays after she called his phone begging him to come speak at his father’s appeal.

Steve finally told his mom that you were pregnant with his biological child and she was over the moon. He begged her not to tell his dad and so far she seemed to honor his request.

“Alright, Munson-Harrington gang. Congratulations, it looks like we have a healthy baby boy!”

***

“Ok, we have to think of a name.”, Eddie mused as he took a bite from the burger on his plate. “What do you think, kid?” Dylan shrugs causing the metalhead to playfully role his eyes. “You’re no help. What about you, my angel?”

“Han.”, Aurora smiles as she chews on her fries.

“I wouldn’t hate that. Harrison Ford in those earlier movies was so sexy.”

Your son makes a face as both men laugh. “You don’t have any special memories with a name? Like I did with Ro?”

Eddie thought for a moment before a smirk crept across his lips. “James.”, he nods, shifting his gaze towards you two. “When my mother left me with Wayne, I was confused. I genuinely thought she would be coming back so I sat on his couch by the door and just waited. Every now and then he would ask if I was ok or if I needed something and I always told him no. Right before dinner that night, he sat at his little table in the trailer with this rickety, old acoustic guitar and started playing Dio’s Rock n’ Roll Children.”, he chuckles.

Dylan leaned against his side and Eddie lifts his arm to wrap around his shoulders.

“Now my uncle is a god-awful singer but man could he play. I was so fascinated by how his fingers moved that I got up to sit with him. He smiled, placing a sandwich in front of me and I ate as I watch him. From that moment on, I knew I wanted to play the guitar. It took me a few days to realize Lynn wasn’t back but Wayne was always there with a new song. Anyway…”, he sighs as his voice becomes lighter. “The lead singers name is Ronnie James.”

You and Steve smile at him as you caress his leg under the table with your foot.

“I like James.”

“Me to.”, the other man agrees. “James Wayne Munson-Harrington.”

#########

“Oh, Y/N, you guys don’t have to do that.”, Wayne bashfully grins.

“We know but we’re going to because we want to.” Winking at him, you stick your fork into the cake on the counter.

“Honey, we have plates.”

“Yes, baby, we do. It’s this thing UNDER the cake.” Steve playfully narrows his eyes in your direction. “Look everyone else said they were full and I’m eating cake for two!”

He holds up his hands defensively as Eddie rounds the corner with Ro who reaches for her grandpa, demanding he hold her.

“Listen here you. No more birthdays. We’re stopping today at four, understand?”

“No, granpa! I…be…a big girl.”, she declares tossing her hands in the air.

The phone rings and Steve chuckles as he reaches over to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hello. This is a collect call from Hawkins Penitentiary from inmate: Al Munson. Will you accept the call and charges?”

The man glances at Eddie who now has a big smile on his face as he tickles Aurora who in turn hides in Wayne’s neck hoping her father can’t reach her. After a few seconds, he hangs up.

“Who was it, baby?”, you ask.

“Wrong number.”

****

Steve’s foot bounces as he waits behind the glass, eyes constantly searching his surroundings. A guard on the other side, opens a door and brings over the prisoner placing him front of the awaiting man. He had never met Eddie’s dad but he had seen a few pictures. The inmate looking at him now was much older and worn by prison life. He did have a lot of his husband’s features especially in the face but his eyes weren’t as soft as Eddies.

“You’re not my son.”

“No…no I’m not and neither is Eddie.” Allen squinted at his guest in confusion. “Look, I just came down here to tell you and Lynn to leave him alone. Every time we change our number, you guys always find it again and bother him on what is supposed to be a day about his daughter, not you. He spent so much time worried about you both and paying for the sins of everything you guys did to him. It’s time for him to be happy.”

“I see. And what are you going to do if I don’t, Mr. Harrington? Call the cops?”, he snickered. “I have done more than enough time to pay for my own sins. Edward could really help me out here and as my son he should want to.”

“What he wanted was a father and he found that in Wayne when your wife abandoned him. He gave up on you a long time ago.”

“Why are YOU here? Do you speak for him now since you fuck him?” Steve’s eyes narrowed in annoyance at the man’s comment. “Oh yeah. I know about you, him, and that girl…what’s her name. Honestly, I don’t give a shit about any of that. If my son wants to bend over and—”

“Don’t. Don’t fucking finish that sentence, Allen, or I swear God.”, he growled. “Listen, leave him alone and I can help you in here.”

“How can you help me?”

“I have some money set aside. I can give you some to make things a bit easier.”

Eddie’s dad’s jaw clenches as he weighs his options. “$500 a month and we have a deal.”

###########

A few months had passed and your little family had moved into your new home. Right on time to because about a month after James decided he was ready to join the Munson-Harrington clan.

Aurora was completely fascinated by the new baby.

“Dada, bra-der tiny.”

“He’s going to be tiny right now, honey. You have to be very careful with him.”

Her eyes widen as she gently pets the top of his head before leaning down to kiss his nose.

One night while he was crying, she watched as Eddie heated up a bottle and rocked him in his arms as he fed him.

“Daddy, what’s wrong wit James?”

“He’s just hungry, princess. Babies eat EVERYTHING.” He widened his eyes making her laugh. “Do you want to help me?”

She nods, following him to the couch and takes a seat in his lap. Placing her little hand on the bottle, he allows her to hold it up as the baby continues to suck at its contents eagerly.

Where Ro was a daddy’s girl, James was a mama’s boy. He loved being in your arms the most and the first time he smiled it was because you were kissing his chubby cheeks.

Dylan, as always, was a wonderful big brother. He helped out where he could and even offered to babysit his siblings every now and then so you and the guys could spend some time alone.

“Hey mom. I need some money for baseball. They said that we need $100 for boosters and some equipment.”

“Geez, isn’t that what boosters is for? To raise money for you people?” Dylan beams at you as he gives you a hug making you smile. “Steve? Little man needs $100 of baseball.”

“Jesus, why so much?”

You glanced in his direction taken a bit off guard. Usually when it came to the kids, if they needed anything financially, he didn’t think twice. Between the three of you, money wasn’t as tight but with the new baby and house things weren’t as easy as before so you let it go. Dylan answered his question and he dug in his wallet to give his son what he needed.

“Everything alright, babe?”

“Huh? Yeah, you know me. I just want to make sure we have everything, you know?”

Your head tilted to the side as your wife and mother senses started tingling again. He was hiding something but what could it be? If it was something involving a surprise for you or the kids his face and body language would normally radiate excitement. Something was wrong.

“Hey, Dylan, do you mind keeping an eye on the other weirdos while I talk to Steve for a minute?”

He nods as you grab the man’s hand and tug him out towards the back porch.

############

When Eddie got home from work, he found you sitting on the couch gnawing on your thumb as Steve paced in the living room. His eyes found yours as you motioned for him to come sit beside you.

“Is everything ok? Where are the kids?”

“I asked my sister to watch them so the three of us could talk.” You softly smile as you kiss his cheek. “Steve has something he needs to tell you.”

“Okay? What’s going on, Stevie?”

The way Eddie looked up at him with concerned eyes made him feel so much worse at what he was about to tell him.

“Um, so, remember how on Aurora’s birthday, you were ecstatic because your mom hadn’t called? Well, uh, your father actually called from prison that day. I answered and hung up on him.”

As the man spoke, you kept your eyes on the metalhead’s face as it slowly fell.

“I-I-I went down there to see him, Ed, and I warned him to leave you alone. He said he needed you and was tired of being in jail, that he and Lynn wouldn’t stop until you showed up at an appeal. So…” Steve’s panicked gaze shifted your way before he looked directly at the man he loved. “For the past few months, I’ve been paying Allen $500 to leave you alone.”

Eddie’s jaw tightened as he tilted his head subtly towards you.

“Did you know about this?”, he whispered.

“No. I just found out everything today.”

He nodded as he rose to his feet, placing himself in front of Steve.

“Eddie, I swear, I was trying to make things easier for you. I hated—”

The metalhead’s fist flew knocking the man backwards before climbing on top of him and swinging his arms.

“Eddie, baby! Stop!” You tried to break them apart but he was too strong. Quickly, prepared for anything, you pushed a few buttons on your phone, sending a text to the one person you knew could get through to him. Three minutes later, Wayne flew in and pried his nephew off the man beneath him.

“Hey! That is enough! I need you calm down, son.”

“How dare you fucking go behind my back like that, Steven! I told you both NOT to go down there!”

“I was trying to help!”

“By giving him money that can be used for our family, you fucking asshole! You think this is going to stop him?!” He tried to charge at the man again but his uncle held him back. “You have no idea what he’s like. I do!”

“Steve, maybe, you should go for a drive or something. Let him cool down.” He glanced your way and you softly nodded in agreement causing the man to hang his head as he quietly left the house. “Now you look at me, Ed.” Wayne grabbed the metalhead’s face forcing him to focus as he murmured low enough so only he could hear.

“Eddie, I know you’re angry. I completely understand that but I need you breathe, ok? Your kids may not be here but Y/N is and she’s worried.” His chocolate eyes glanced at your concerned face as you hugged your arms around your body. “There you go. Can you sit on the couch calmly?”

He nods as he moves to take a seat. Without looking your way, his ringed fingers gesture for you to come closer and he pulls you onto his lap, hugging you to his chest.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“You didn’t. When he told me what he did, I was angry to. Not just because of what he did but because I knew it would hurt you. Eddie, you know how Steve is. He genuinely thought he was protecting you.”

“No. No, Y/N. This is serious. This isn’t like when you went to his mom for money so he could go to school. My father isn’t someone who can be trusted. So many things can go wrong that can get Steve in real trouble. I…”, he shakes his head as he feels his anger rise again.

“Baby, I’m not excusing what he did but, maybe, if you explain to him more about your father and how this could backfire—”

“Which I could have done if he came to me first.”

“I know, honey. I know.”, you coo as you rub his chest. “Wayne, would you like to stay here? You’re more than welcome. Plus, I’m sure the kids would love to see you when they come back tomorrow.”

***

Eddie’s uncle did spend the night while Steve ended up sleeping a hotel. He texted you letting you know where he was and that he thought it was best to give his husband some space.

The two youngest kids were excited to see their grandpa when they got home but Dylan sensed something was wrong especially when he walked in and noticed his dad wasn’t there.

“Is it because I asked for money?”

“No, baby. No.”, you whispered as you kissed his forehead. “He’ll be home later.”

Your answer didn’t seem to sooth him as he sat next to Wayne and watched him try to make James smile.

“Sir, you have the fattest little belly I have ever seen. I could just…”, he made munching noises in his stomach making the baby giggle as he scrunched his head into his shoulders.

“Beep beep.”, Aurora parroted as the front door opened and Steve cautiously entered the home. “Dada!” She ran to his arms and he scooped her up giving her a big hug. “Dada, you have an ouch.” When she pointed to the light swelling where Eddie had hit him, he flinched slightly.

“Yeah, dada is dumb.”

“No.”, she giggled before pointing at Wayne. “Granpa is here. He…he’s making…bra-der happy.”

Dylan’s eyes scanned Steve carefully as he sat across from him in one of the chairs. “You alright, dad?”

“I’m fine, dude. I just missed you guys.”, he smiles.

You come around the corner and playfully swat at Ro’s curls before tickling her neck with your finger. “You. Scoot so I can say hi to dada.”

“Mama! Stop.”, she laughs as she slides down and sticks her tongue out at you. “You’re mean!”

You laugh along with her as you climb onto Steve’s lap and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Are you okay?”

“No. I hurt someone I love. He should have hit me harder.”

“Baby…”, you sigh as you press your forehead to his cheek. “We’re going to talk again later after the kids go to bed especially since he’s had time to calm down and process everything.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I know I should have—” You fingers cut him off as you place them on his lips.

“We have eyes on us. Later, ok?”

Steve’s own orbs scan the room finding Dylan watching you both as well as Aurora before she smiles and waves in your direction.

###########

One benefit of having three parents in the house is everyone can focus on one of the kids at any given time. After coming in to check on Ro and kiss her, Eddie stayed behind to tuck her in. As you passed Dylan on the couch downstairs, you poked your head into James’s room to find Steve with a sleeping infant in his arms.

“Alright, my love.”, you exhaled as you dramatically plopped your body down next to your son. “Time for you to go upstairs and get ready for bed.” Silently, he turns off the tv and begins to stand but you tug on the back of his shirt, bringing him down into your arms. “I know you and I know your big, beautiful brain. You’re a worrier like me. You didn’t do anything wrong, ok? You know we don’t mind giving you money for something you enjoy.”

“Everything got weird after I asked.”

“And that has nothing to do with you. Believe it or not, adults have issues sometimes that don’t involve their kids.” Dylan chuckled at your sarcasm as you kissed his cheek.

“I just don’t want to be the reason you guys get divorced or something.”

As he began to stand, you quickly yank him back again. “Baby, they aren’t Charlie. Just because Steve wasn’t here this morning doesn’t mean that we’re going to break up. The three of us have been together too long and been through too much. And…”, you sigh hating the thoughts that fill your mind as you continue. “Playing the devil’s advocate here, if for some reason we ever did break up, I assure you no matter what, that reason would never be because of you guys or anything you did.”

Dylan smiles as he hugs you before getting to his feet and pulling you up with him. As Eddie comes down the stairs, he meets him half and tugs him into a hug.

“I love you, kid.”

“I love you to.”

The moment he hears his footsteps bang up to his room, Steve appears and softly smiles in your direction.

“Counseling degree at work again?”

“No, that would be my mom degree. I saw it on his face when you came home. Even though he knows you guys aren’t like Charlie, I think there’s still a part of him that feels like he could lose you at if one thing goes wrong.”

“I know the feeling.”, Eddie mumbles as he shuffles his feet. “Sometimes I was afraid Wayne would give up on me to. Obviously, that never happened.”

Your hand gently rubs his back and you gesture with your head for you three to head for the bedroom.

***

The silence was deafening as you sat on the bed near the headboard as Eddie placed himself on the edge with his chin near his chest. Steve pulled one of the chairs from the living room so he could sit in front of you both, fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for someone to speak.

“Did he ask you for money or did you offer?”, the metalhead asked.

“I offered. He came up with the amount.”

“Steven, what do you know about prison? In general, I mean.”

“Uh…”

“Did you know that things are snuck in all the time? Drugs, weapons, food, etc.” Steve shook his head. “Did you know he can use your money to get shit like that or give to other inmates to do that? Did you know that people could find out where he’s getting so much money from and send people to harass you for the same treatment?”

When the man shook his head again, his eyes downcast towards the floor in shame.

“Do you know how I know that? The first time my father went in Wayne tried to help him by sending him $100 a month. A couple months later he asked for more and my uncle told him no. The next day someone broke into his trailer and stole half his shit. We learned later Allen owed some people inside money and when they found out he would be getting out soon they wanted it all upfront. When Wayne told him no, my dad told them where he had been getting the cash from so they sent people to get the rest however they could. Thankfully, he was at work that night.”

“Eddie, I…”

“You’d think prison would reform him but it doesn’t. That’s why he’s there, Steve. He does the same shit in there that he did when he was out. He cons people or steals from them and every time he always loses.”, he sighs angerly. “And that’s just one of the many reasons I’m pissed. We just had a fucking baby, Steven! $500 barely covers half of what he needs, plus Aurora and Dylan’s essentials. That’s for the kids. The three of us need things to including this house!”

You scoot closer and wrap your arms around him as you lean against his shoulder. You had never seen him like this. When he had gotten angry with his mom at Ro’s first birthday that was one thing. Right now, this was fury out of fear for you five and something that could have been avoided if—

“But I think what pisses me off the most is you didn’t fucking talk to me. I have always been up front with you when it came to your parents and especially your dad. Your dad isn’t like mine Steve. He could get someone fucking killed and I’ll be damned if it’s someone in my family. I don’t just ignore him and Lynn for me. I do it to protect you guys. It’s a simple thing and you made it way more complicated.”

A tear escaped down Steve’s cheek that he quickly wiped away as he sat up straighter and cleared his throat.

“I’m, um…I’m sorry, Eddie. You’re right. I should have talked to you, both of you. No matter what my intentions were. I—”

“Don’t do that.”, you cut him off. “Don’t do that authoritative, businessman style voice and dialogue you do because you think it’s what people want to hear.” His eyes roll as his leans forward and his leg bounces. “Be honest, Steve. Be yourself.”

“When he called you were making Aurora laugh, Ed, while Wayne was holding her. Y/N, you were eating cake out of the pan with a fork because you were pregnant and you and Dylan were leaning against each other smiling…it was perfect. A perfect fucking day without Charlie causing problems or Lynn calling to trigger his pain. My dad wasn’t appearing out of nowhere to fuck shit up or you mom to remind you that you’re still the town whore!” Steve’s beautiful brown irises looked at anything but you two as he tried to control his emotions.

“For this one moment, everything was exactly as it should be. Then your dad called, Eddie, reminding me something was always waiting…looming in the background to fuck everything up. So, yeah, I went down there to protect us; to protect you. Motherfucker is lucky there was glass between us.”, he growled. “With Lynn and Allen, I don’t know how you turned out so fucking amazing. I can understand why you would want them out of your life for good.” Steve shrugs as he leans back again. “Since I couldn’t hit him and I couldn’t convince him, I did the only other thing I could think of.”

“Well thank God you didn’t become a businessman like your dad wanted or he would have lost a ton of money.” Their eyes meet for the first time since they entered the room as they both let a breathy chuckle. “Steve, when will you realize that you don’t have to protect us and be the hero alone?”

The baby monitor starts to light up and you hastily get up before they can to check on James.

“I’m sorry I hit you.”

Steve got up from his chair to sit beside Eddie and wrapped his arms around him like you had.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m so fucking sorry, babe.”

The metalhead sighs using his fingers to lift his chin and bring his lips to his.

“Even though I’m mad at you, I still love you. I hope you know that.”

The boy nods as he kisses his lips again before trailing them down his cheek to his shoulder.

##############

Allen glances at the three Munson-Harrington adults, sitting on the other side of the glass before really taking in his son in front of him.

Eddie knew he’d have to go down to the prison to fix what Steve had done but you were surprised when he asked you two to join him. On the drive there, he inhaled one cigarette after the other until you reached over and stole his pack so he wouldn’t overdo it. While you waited, his eyes darted around as he occasionally babbled to block out his internal panic.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been here. The last time was when I was 10, I think. My mom brought me and I remember them arguing about him being stuck in here. She said she couldn’t handle me alone.”, he shakily laughed. “Actually, it was more ‘what am I supposed to do with him.’”

“Eddie…” Turning his head, you kiss his lips as you caress his cheek with your thumb. “Everything is going to be ok. We’re right here with you.”

He nodded before gazing at Steve who was glaring into the void as Eddie reached to hold his hand before leaning to whisper in his ear. “Come back to me, sweetheart. I need you.”

“Well shit.”, Allen sarcastically smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Your boyfriend and I already came up with an arrangement so you didn’t need to come down here.”

“Husband. Not boyfriend. Always glad to know you’re just happy to see me, Allen.”

“Allen? Really? You call Wayne daddy now?”

“More or less for the last about 18 years.” They glare at each other before Eddie snickers. “You’re not even going to pretend to be nice to win me over, are you? I have no idea why you or Lynn would ask me to lie for you if you can’t even say something civil like ‘Hey Ed. Nice to see you.’”

You intertwine your fingers with his as your heart breaks. This was probably just a taste of what little Edward Munson experienced and it killed you.

“Look, we weren’t planning on staying for long. I just wanted to tell you the money Steve has been sending stops now and if you tell anyone that my family gave you that, I swear to God, I will make it my personal mission to make your life a living hell in here. You think things are bad now…”

You’d be lying if you didn’t say his dominance turned you on. There was nothing sexier to you than seeing them both be protective over you and the kids. Usually, it was Steve acting as protector and when he did it with Mr. Osbourne it drove you crazy. Hearing Eddie do it now was not only making you proud of him but excited to jump him later.

“Fine but in return I want you to go the appeal for me.”

“No, that won’t be happening either and let me tell you why. If you keep calling me, sending letters, or any other bullshit like that, I will come to your appeal but it won’t be on your behalf. I’ll remind the judge that you’re a scam artist and a fucking car thief but I’ll also enlighten them on what a great father you were to me between the black eyes and verbal assaults.”

Eddie leans closer to the glass as his eyes burn into the man on the other side.

“I am not a kid anymore. You two think you can still bully me but you’re wrong. You both need me way more than I need you.”

With that, he rises from the chair to leave before pausing and gesturing towards his father to wait with his index finger. Abruptly, he grabs Steve’s collar and tugs his lips to his for a passionate kiss. When he finally lets him go, the other man smirks, drunk off Eddie’s taste alone as the metalhead flips off his dad and turns to leave him behind.

****

About a mile down the road from the prison, Eddie swerved his van into an empty area, hurling off his seatbelt and shoving Steve into the back where you had been sitting. You stayed out of the way, allowing the metalhead to take control. There was a sense of urgency in their kisses, both needing each other in that moment. Eddie needed to convey to him that he could take care of him to and Steve showing him that he could willing give up that urge to control for his husband to take be there for him.

As they shoved down their pants, you slid your fingers down your own, rubbing your clit as you watched Eddie spit in his hand and stroke his cock before breaching Steve’s entrance.

“Fuck, yes. I love you so much, baby. Let-Let me take care of you.”

All Steve could do was nod as he wrapped his arms around him and clung to him as Eddie pumped into him harder. His ring lined hand reached out into the air and it took you a moment to realize he was trying to find you. As you leaned into his touch he yanked the back of your neck, bringing your lips to his.

When he dipped his fingers into your jeans and between your legs, he couldn’t help but smile against your lips.

“You’re so wet, princess. You like watching us together?”

Your own palm held the back of his from the outside of your pants as you rested your forehead on his.

“I like watching you—mmm—take care of us. I love you, Eddie. I’m so proud of you.”

He heavily sighed as he thrust into you both faster. Hearing Steve loudly grunt, you two watch him as his face scrunches and he releases his spend near the bottom of his tummy. Eddie grins as you push against his hand, guiding his pace until he feels you shutter and cum on his fingers. As you collapse next to Steve, he leans over the boy’s face as he chases his high.

“You’re both so—f-fuck—fucking pretty when you cum.”

Watching with half lidded eyes, you softly smile as Steve reaches up to caress his face, listening as he whispers sweetly to him.

“I love you to, honey. So fucking much. Cum, Eddie, please. We want to see it. I want to feel you fill me up. You…you deserve to…fuck…” He struggled to get the last few words out as the metalhead pumped into him so hard you imagined the van was shaking from the outside. They both grunted at the feeling as the boy came inside of him and like you collapsed on his other side.

The three of you panted as you starred at the ceiling.

“I am sorry I put you in this position, Munson.”

“I mean… I put you in this position but you know me…I’m open to any and all positions as long as it feels good for everyone.”

They smile when you giggle as Steve shakes his head playfully. “You’re so stupid.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. I forgive you, Harrington.” He leans up on his elbow to kiss him before dramatically leaning across him to do the same with you. “Alright, you two recharge and I’ll drive us home.”

@dad-steddie @manda-panda-monium @alligator-person

#############

@adequate-superstar @kalinaselennespeaks @strangerfreak

@decadentwombatmiracle @katie-tibo @marsupiooo

@local-stoner-bitch @steamystrangerfics @lunatictardis

@adaydreamaway08 @hazydespair @actuallyspencerreid

@moviefreak1205 @waylandmorgernsternherondal-blog

@kik51199 @strngrlytn @idkidknemore @damon-loves-pie

@k-k0129 @micheledawn1975 @eddie86baby

@justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @3rriberri

@sashaphantomhive @chelebelletx @big-ope-vibes

@munsonzzgf @munsonmoonshine86

#steddie x reader #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve fanfic #steve smut #steve stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #stranger things #fan fiction

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real-fire-emblem-takes · 30 days

Note

going to fire emblem for canon gay rep is like going to a burger king for beef wellington. like sure, if you ask enough for years they'll probably make it but it won't really be good and if you want it done a certain way you need to go to another restaurant or you can buy the true Burger King where both ways are available but also the restaurant isn't very good compared to like the five guys's down the street where they don't do beef wellington but they keep the bathrooms clean and the menu isn't really problematic and and you can go home and talk about the ingredients making a beef wellington really well and someone makes a Five Guys's Beef Wellington mod so at this point why both waiting on the restaurants to make Burger Wellington 3 Houses where if you sit down in section A or B you get a bunch of options of Beef Wellington but if you go to C or D you get like four options and there's like two options total if you like men, one of which they added on later after people were upset the only mlm Beef Wellington was some annoying green bitch who i want nothing to do with so i might as well go home and make my own Alois-Style Beef Wellington! FUCK YOU BURGER KING! WHY THE FUCK CANT I DATE ALOIS! WHY DO YOUR FRIES SUCK! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

are you okay

#fe #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe16 #fe3h #fe 3 houses #alois rangeld #character hate

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gainingfiction · 2 years

Text

Big Bro

Summary: Marco is a cocky jock used to coasting through life on his good looks. His stepbrother Jared has always been fat, and teasing him about it is Marco’s favourite pastime. But when Jared starts slimming down, Marco’s latest scheme (sabotaging Jared’s diet) comes back to bite him in a big way.

This story owes a huge debt to “Neighbors” by Anonymous. I couldn’t match that story’s rapid-fire pace, but I do think I did justice to the narrator’s snarky tone.

I’m one of those guys who can eat whatever he wants. It’s true—my whole life I’ve had this amazing metabolism. I ate like a pig all through high school, and I had the best body in that place. Probably because I played so many sports.

My stepbrother, Jared, wishes he could eat like me and look as good as I do. Dude is so lazy, and so damn fat. The only exercise he gets is lifting a fork and getting up for seconds. I don’t know where he gets it—my stepdad keeps in pretty good shape; he’s a pretty good looking dude, all around. My mom definitely could have done worse.

But Jared was always big, at least as long as I’ve known him. He used to get some shit for it in high school, but never when I was around. In a weird way, I felt kind of protective over him. We were 17 when our parents got married, and we didn’t have much in common—I mean, come on, look at us. But I still don’t like other people ragging on him for being such a fat fuck. It’s like, I can say that, but it feels different if it comes from a stranger. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.

Do I tease Jared? Well, yeah, but he knows I’m just screwing around. When you hit 300, 350 pounds like he is, you probably get used to people messing with you. One time I slapped a “Wide Load” sticker on his back, and he walked around for like, an hour before he noticed. My mom was pissed; I definitely got in some shit for that one. And then there was the time I loosened all the screws in his gaming chair—I still remember the look on his face when he came crashing down like a ton of bricks. Hilarious.

Lately, though, I have a new way of messing with him. It’s so damn funny. He’s doing this diet thing, so I’ll pig out on all his favourite junk food, right in front of him. Put on a real show, too, sighing and moaning and licking the ice cream off the spoon like I’m in some kind of commercial. Or a porno. His face is priceless, with his eyes glazed-over and his hands rubbing that big fat gut of his. It must be torture for a guy like that, to see a guy who looks like me stuffing his face with all the food he knows he can’t have.

So I’m pretty sure he’s gonna snap soon, and fall off the wagon in a big way. He’s never exactly been the poster boy for restraint, loading up at every meal like it’s gonna be his last, then waddling—and I do mean waddling—off to play video games with his arms full of snacks. Plus, he’s in culinary school now. I mean, go figure, right? How’s a guy going to stick to his diet when he’s surrounded by food for a living?

That’s why I’m glad I don’t have to diet. I’m a server at this big family restaurant, so I’m pretty used to working around good food. I’ve been working there for about four years now, since I was 16, so the kitchen staff have gotten to know me pretty well. They’re never shy with the leftovers, and I’ll never say no to free grub. Especially not when it looks that good. I used to just have a quick bite on my break, to keep my energy up, but lately I’ve been bringing a big doggy bag home so I can pig out on ribs, mashed potatoes, burgers and fries in front of poor Jared.

I’m honestly impressed he’s stuck out on this diet thing for as long as he has. It’s been a couple of months now, and he’s still at it, picking away at celery sticks and Greek yoghurt and boring salads while I pile up plate after plate of whatever I want. Seems like he’s starting to get some results, too. He’s still a massive fatass, but his clothes are a little looser (or less hilariously tight), and his gut doesn’t hang out quite as far in front of him, either.

I’ve been trying to save up enough to move out for a while now, but I’m not exactly great with money. I like to have a good time, you know? My mom’s always on my case about how often I go clubbing with my friends, not to mention all the hot clothes I buy to show off my killer bod. That shit just looks good on me. If it shows off how pumped my arms and pecs look, of course I’m gonna buy it. But I’m starting to get serious about moving out—I’ve been taking on way more shifts at the restaurant. It does mean I’ve had to cut back on my trips to the gym a little bit, but that doesn’t matter. Like I said, my metabolism can do anything.

When I do finally move out, I’m gonna miss seeing Jared’s sad puppy dog eyes when he watches me scarfing down chips and swigging beer like it’s going out of style. “Unh, this is sooo good,” I’ll moan, clutching my stomach as I shovel another spoonful of rocky road into my mouth. “These brownies are incredible,” I’ll say, licking the chocolate off my fingers while Jared just stares on, nibbling carrot sticks like the world’s fattest rabbit. So funny.

I’ve been having some uniform problems lately. It’s the weirdest thing. I’ve been wearing size 32 jeans for years, but lately my pants have been kind of hard to button. Same thing with my shirts—I’ve only ever worn a medium, but lately they’re feeling a little snug, especially when I’m a little bloated after my second dessert. My buddies have been joking that I need to cool it with all the food I’m scarfing down, but they’re probably just jealous. They’re all a bunch of diet-obsessed muscle heads; those drama queens don’t understand how much a guy like me can put away without gaining weight.

Speaking of clothes that don’t fit, Jared looks like he’s swimming in his old t-shirts and cargo shorts. I’ve seen him shirtless, heading to and from the shower, and he’s definitely still a lardass, but I can’t deny that he’s lost at least a few pounds.

And speaking of a few pounds, I had the weirdest experience at the club the other night when I was out with a couple of the guys. Looking like I do, I always clean up there. Normally, guys throw themselves at me—I haven’t had to pay for a drink of my own in ages, considering how many I get for free. But that night, I got maybe one free drink from a guy who was about twice my age! I smiled at him, but I was surprised he thought he had a shot with me. And then, later, I was flirting with this pretty little twink at the bar. We’d hooked up once before, but that night he seemed totally over me. When I finally got him to look up from his phone, he put his hand on my side, and then pulled it away like I’d burned him. “You need to hit the gym, Marco,” he said.

And then he just walked away! I was so pissed, I walked right out of there. I stopped by a pizza place on the way home and picked up a few slices… I’ll admit it, I do eat my feelings, sometimes. But like I’ve been saying, it’s no problem when you’ve got a body like mine.

The owner of the restaurant called me into the office recently, and handed me a new uniform. I was sort of confused. Then he pointed at my stomach and said, “You need a size up, young man. That show you’re putting on is distracting.” Show? What show? At first I thought he meant the gun show, although my killer biceps have never been a problem before. Then I realized that my shirt was starting to slip up around my stomach and on the sides. I really must have overdone it on the pasta, to be that bloated.

Still, I do appreciate the new threads. Clearly they’re doing something with the sizing, because the 36s fit me a lot better than my old pair of 34s. To be honest, they still aren’t what I’d call loose, but I can at least get them on without it turning into a whole production. And it’s nice to wear a shirt that I can breathe in—and eat in.

On the subject of eating, I still haven’t managed to get Jared to crack yet. He’s dedicated, but I know I can break him. I think I’m getting close. The other night, I came home with a dozen frosted donuts, and I ate one after the other, moaning like a noisy bottom during a good fuck. I can tell he’s starting to crack, because he got this weird, distant look in his eyes, and he couldn’t stop staring at me. He looked seriously tempted when I dangled my tenth donut under his nose, but he just looked at me and said, “You have it, Marco.” Well, if you insist, bro! Ten was all I could manage, though, since my tank was seriously full by that point. The other two made for a good midnight snack, at least.

Teasing him isn’t as fun as it used to be. He’s dropped some serious weight by this point. He still has a big, soft gut and a fat ass, but he must have shifted about 80 pounds. Maybe more, honestly. And he’s getting to be in better shape—he has a real spring in his step, and his hips have slimmed down enough that he can walk without waddling. I even walked in on him doing bicep curls in his room the other day! I almost laughed out loud. “Gonna get into sumo, bro?” I asked him. He just smirked at me and kept going. Like I said, he’s getting harder to make fun of.

But tempting him has never been easier. He’s practically doing it for me at this point, bringing home all this food from his culinary classes. It’s something different every day: a huge porterhouse steak fried in garlic butter, thick slices of New York style cheesecake, Nashville fried chicken… Like, okay, bro, but it’s your funeral! If you wanna see me eat all the delicious food that you can’t have, I’ll eat it, but don’t blame me when your diet goes belly up. Besides being a regular glutton, he must be a glutton for punishment, since he just stares at me while I eat plate after plate. Damn can he cook, though.

My mom has been kind of on my case about me clearing out the fridge on a regular basis. I don’t know what her damage is; I mean, a guy’s gotta eat, right? But she and my stepdad have definitely been giving me a few looks when I load up my plate with seconds and thirds at dinner. “You must be hungry, big guy!” my stepdad said the other night. He even poked me in the stomach! I assume he was kidding around, but still, it kind of annoyed me. Like, nobody ever said shit about Jared when he would demolish a big bowl of pasta, but when Marco’s the one pigging out, suddenly it’s a criminal offence? Give me a break. And who the fuck is “big guy”? Like, maybe take a look at your own son, bud.

At least Jared’s been cool. He’s really not a bad guy. I guess there are no hard feelings about me messing with him, since he did me a real solid the other day. I was trying to get into a pair of pants before work, but they were giving me a really hard time. I was tugging and fighting, and starting to get a little out of breath from all the struggling—yeah, I know, probably time to hit the gym, but that was like an arm workout of its own! But those damn pants just wouldn’t budge. I’m telling you, 38 inches is not as big as it sounds. And then Jared walks by, notices me having the fight of my life with a pair of khakis, and comes back a minute later with a pair of his own.

I tried not to laugh in his face, since he was trying to do something nice. I mean, come on, dude, those are gonna be huge on me! Or so I thought. Like I said, all these clothing companies must be getting weird with the sizes since a 40-inch waist really wasn’t a bad fit. “Don’t sweat it, Marco,” he said. “Everyone puts on a little weight in their 20s.”

Yeah, you’d know, I wanted to say. Except, that wasn’t really true. He’s still fat, but not comically fat. He just looks like a big bear. But still, where does this guy get off? “A little weight”? A guy that size is in no position to talk.

But I figured that he might have a point. I mean, I definitely do look a little softer around the edges… my gut is getting kind of hard to ignore, and I’m getting a pretty big butt. Not that a big ass is a bad thing… I have to admit, I do kind of like having a nice, round bubble butt to grab onto.

A few days later, I decided to see how much I’d put on.

When I stepped on the scale, I did a double take. I know I might have packed on a few pounds, but I was thinking 10, 15 tops. But the damn thing must have been broken, since it said I weigh 247 pounds. I mean, 247? Are you kidding me? I was 171 when I graduated high school; there’s no way I’ve packed on 76 pounds. Not with my metabolism. Maybe 20, but close to 80? That thing had to be busted.

I decided to ask Jared about it. If the scale said I was closing in on 250, I don’t know what it would have said about him! So I asked him straight-up: “How much are you weighing these days? According to the scale upstairs?”

“245, last time I checked,” he said. “Although I usually use the scales at the gym.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so they definitely were broken. No way I’m fatter than fatass Jared. Any scale that says I am must be seriously out of whack. I decided to celebrate with a couple of pieces of the apple pie he’d brought home the day before. I ate most of it last night, but there was still enough left for a half-decent snack. I made a big show of looking my stepdad in the eyes as I shovelled out a few scoops of ice cream to go with it, almost daring him to say something. He didn’t, though.

I have to admit, I’m a little bummed out now that Jared’s graduated from culinary school. I had gotten used to free food on a nightly basis, and there was something pretty satisfying about tempting him with his own cooking. Turns out, that’s the least of my worries: Jared got a job as a cook at my restaurant! Which means I’ll have to see him at work and around the house.

There is one upside, at least. Ever since Jared started, the kitchen has been very generous with the free food. I’m talking full steaks and ribs during my shift, with two or three sides: loaded baked potatoes, cheese fries, potato wedges… the good shit. Plus, doggy bags to bring home, complete with some of my favourite desserts. And I make sure Jared can see me eating all of it. It must be killing him, now that he can’t avoid it at home or work! I bet he’s gonna give up that diet thing any day now.

“Maybe you should go on a diet, yourself,” my pal Jordan said when we were out for drinks the other night. Well, the guys were getting drinks, I was getting drinks and a few appetizers; like I said, a guy’s gotta eat! I could see Jordan staring at my body, and he had the nerve to give my gut a slap! “You’re getting bigger than Jared, dude.”

“Fuck off,” I said, laughing. I grabbed a handful of potato skins. I was starting to regret bringing up my little pet project. “He’s a whale compared to me.” I gave my arms a flex for emphasis, and then took a swig of beer.

“I don’t know, man, that gut is getting out of control,” Aiden said, poking me in the stomach. I flushed; what was this, some kind of intervention? “When was the last time you hit the gym? I haven’t seen you around there in ages.”

“Nah, Aiden, he’s been working out,” Tony said. He cupped one of my pecs and gave it a jiggle, “His jaw muscles have never been stronger!” I tugged on the hem of my shirt, trying to remember when my pecs got so damn jiggly. I can’t even explain it, but there was something about my buddies manhandling me like that that got me kind of hot and bothered.

The guys all laughed. “That’s funny, ‘cause I can’t see ‘em!” Aiden chimed in. More laughter. I clenched my jaw; maybe my face is a little rounder, but I hide it well with some stubble. I thought I looked pretty hot.

“I was talking to Reed the other day,” Tony said. “You guys remember Reed, Marco’s old fuckbuddy? Works at Silk and Satin? Well, he said he barely recognized you when he saw you at the club a couple weeks back.”

I must have been bright scarlet by that point. “Reed’s a fucking liar,” I grumbled. “He was all over me that night.” The truth was, I couldn’t even flag that little dick down to order myself a drink, but I wasn’t about to admit that to the guys. Silk and Satin is overpriced and overrated, anyway. Just a meat market full of shallow gym bunnies.

“Yeah, there’s a lot to be all over!” Jordan said. He turned to me and put a hand on my arm. “Seriously, though, let us know if you want some help at the gym. You’re not a bad looking guy, Marco, it’d be a crime to throw those good looks away.”

I wanted to melt into my seat. “Yeah, thanks,” I said. I didn’t even know what they were talking about; how exactly was I throwing my looks away? I was just hungry.

The guys might have a point about me getting bigger than Jared, though. I was passing him in the hallway the other day, and I caught sight of our guts. Well, shit, I’m pretty sure mine stuck out farther than his! Had more jiggle to it, too…. That might explain why I’ve been borrowing his old clothes and he’s been borrowing mine. But I wrote the experience off; his metabolism sucks compared to mine, so it’s definitely temporary. Probably just a bloat. I just need to cool it with the junk food and hit the gym again. I promised Jordan I’d go with him, but I just haven’t found the right time, you feel?

And I also didn’t want to run into Jared. He’s in that place every damn day, running or lifting or doing whatever he’s been doing to shrink that fat ass of his down to a reasonable size. A very reasonable size, apparently, since that ass seemed to be getting plenty of attention in the locker room: a couple of my friends had started commenting on what a round, perky bubble butt he’s sporting. He’s a fatass! I wanted to say… I would have, too, if I wasn’t wearing his old size-46 jeans. And it was probably time to ask if he had any with a 48” waist, since those are getting pretty tight…

It seems like the whole damn world is going crazy. The other day at work, a couple of the waitresses were talking about Jared like he was the hottest guy around. I had to jump in and say something, I just couldn’t ignore it. It used to annoy me when people talked shit about him, but lately, that wasn’t even a problem—everyone seemed to be joining the Jared fan club. And no, I definitely wasn’t jealous, fuck you very much. Why would I be? “Don’t you think he’s kind of… fat?”

I’ll admit, maybe my timing wasn’t great. Earlier that shift, I was turning around in the stock room and I knocked a whole bunch of cleaning supplies off the shelf with my ass. It’s not my fault, okay? That room is cramped; they really need a supply closet that’s big enough for normal people. And I’ve got a lot of junk in the trunk! Since when did that become a bad thing?

They frowned at me. Jessica gave me a look like she’d just stepped in something. Which was pretty rich, given how she used to leer at me like her own personal Playgirl centerfold. “He just has a little dad bod,” she said. “And besides, you’re one to talk.”

I scowled back. “What, this?” I patted my stomach, realizing I’d slapped it hard enough to make it jiggle a little. I had to tug my shirt down where the motion forced it up. “This is nothing. It’s like, a delayed freshman 15.” I didn’t point out that it was more like 100, at this point. Okay, okay, maybe a little more. No more than 150, though. I swear.

Kristen snorted. “Pretty sure you have to be a freshman to pull that off,” she said. “You’re obviously just jealous.”

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Me, jealous of Jared? If anything, they’re jealous of me, bitter that they’ll never have a shot with me.

Still, after that I decided to cool it a little with the food. I’m a big guy with a big appetite, but getting those sorts of comments is way out of my comfort zone. They give me this feeling in my gut that I don’t even understand. It’s like… shit, people are starting to think of me as a fat guy. It’s weird. So I decided to help myself to all the food the kitchen threw my way that night, and cap off the night with a trip to McDonald’s for a few Big Mac meals. The diet would start tomorrow.

Except, it didn’t. I really planned on eating better, but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I’ve always liked to eat, and never had to count calories in my life. It’s not like I didn’t try—I had a bowl of granola for breakfast and everything. But I don’t know how people live on that rabbit food; I was starving again after an hour. So when Jared whipped up a big plate of waffles, I couldn’t resist. I had to dig in.

It sort of became a cycle. I’d promise myself I’d start eating better and working out again. I’d have something halfway-healthy for breakfast. But I was so miserable and hangry that I just couldn’t deal. So I’d end up at Five Guys, stuffing my face with fries and washing it down with a chocolate and peanut butter shake. By that point I’d be so full that even thinking about the gym was a chore, so I’d blow Jordan off and head home to take a nap, or maybe watch the game or play some video games with Jared. He’s actually kind of fun to hang out with, to be totally honest. Rinse and repeat, day after day. Meanwhile, Jared is there throwing his healthy diet in my face, munching on salmon filets and garden salads like he’s Jenny Craig’s bottom all of a sudden.

At least he doesn’t make a big deal out of how much I’m eating like our parents. He’s like, the least judgmental guy I know. I’ve been complaining to him about how annoying it is to still be living at home, how I need my independence. Take my mom, for example: she’s always pushing stupid healthy food on me. And I swear my stepdad is judging me for eating as much as I do. I don’t care what he thinks, though. It may be your house, Roger, but I’m a full-grown man, and I can eat whatever I want. So what if I want to eat a lot? That never seemed to be a problem when your own son was stuffing his face around the clock. Glass houses, right?

And then weeks would pass, and then months, and I couldn’t get my pants to button. Well, Jared’s pants. First 48 inches got tight around the waist, then my thighs busted the seams on his 50s, and before I knew it, I had to stop raiding Jared’s closet. I’d straight-up outgrown every damn thing in there. Let me just say, I’m not proud to be walking around the big-and-tall store trying to find something to disguise my gut.

And the guys in the kitchen at work are no help. Tempting me with food is like a game to them. Let’s see how much Marco can eat today, I imagined them saying, as they loaded up plate after plate with pasta, steaks, burgers, and fries. How much can we feed him this time? I swear, it’s like they’re messing up orders on purpose just to push the rejects in my direction.

No one tells you how hard it is to be a fat guy. When I hit 350 pounds, I realized that’s what I was—a fat guy. Getting hungry all the time is one thing, and getting out of breath hauling all my weight around could have been expected. But there are a million little things I never even imagined. Like showers. I used to hop in, lather up my abs and my ass, and hop out. Not anymore. Now, it’s like a goddamn Olympic event, squeezing into the shower, soaping up all those hard to reach places… downright exhausting. And sitting in booths? Not gonna happen. I’ve even started looking at certain chairs funny, wondering if they’re gonna splinter like kindling under all this extra weight. 360 pounds… 370 pounds… When I crossed 380, I decided to stop keeping track. What difference does it even make, anymore?

And the looks I get? I never imagined. It used to be that guys couldn’t get enough of me; I used to turn heads when I walked into a room. Then people just started ignoring me. Now, those jackasses are downright hostile. Their heads turn for other reasons. Like, okay, I’m a little on the big side, I’m not gonna fucking sit on you, or eat you. Some bratty little twink straight-up huffed and rolled his eyes when I sat next to him on the bus. Sure, I may have been taking up a pretty major slice of his seat, but it wasn’t like I was letting my love handles spill over onto him on purpose. You would have been all over me three years ago, I wanted to say. And that bus ride was its own ordeal—those doors are narrow! And I forgot how sweaty I get from just walking around, not to say jogging to catch the 34. I was pretty damn pleased when I got my car back from the shop.

My so-called “friends” are the worst of all. Turns out they’re all shallow gym rats. Aiden, who I grew up with, actually pretended not to know me when I bumped into him at Starbucks for my daily caramel frappuccino! Like knowing a guy my size would make him guilty by association.

They’re all too busy chasing after guys like Jared. Yeah, that’s right, fatass Jared has become a hot commodity among thirsty gay boys. Seeing him fill out my clothes with his muscular lats and round, firm glutes almost makes me want to cry. Those jeans were mine! That Marc Jacobs bomber jacket was mine! Those friends were mine!

I can’t even stay mad at him, though. He’s just too decent. If I even seem hungry, he’ll jump up and start chopping potatoes and frying bacon. I kind of wonder about the new him, though—is he happy? He definitely seems like it, when he’s slipping on some form-hugging muscle shirt to go clubbing, or crawling home with some stud under his arm. But when he sits down across from me at the table, watching me devour donut after donut, burger after burger, there’s always this look in his eyes… it’s not even like he’s hungry. He doesn’t want the food, he wants… something else. I wish he wasn’t so damn hard to read.

I was really starting to like the guy when he went and dropped a bomb on me. He was moving out. “I’m almost 22, Marco,” he said, when I tried to protest. “I can’t live with my dad forever.”

You know what? I almost got a little choked up. “I feel like I was just starting to get to know you,” I said.

He smiled at me. “I’ll still be around.”

But what about your food? I wanted to ask him. Sure, there’s the food he makes at work, and my full-blown fast food addiction, but none of it can match the stuff he makes me. As a former fat guy himself, he knows how to make food taste good. Really, really good. It isn’t just butter and sugar, either, it’s care. Watching him cook… the guy is an artist. I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t want to let him go.

And when it rains, it pours. About a week after Jared moved out, the owner of the restaurant called me into his office. I sat down—on two chairs, just to be safe—and felt like I already knew where this was going.

“1,932 dollars, Marco,” he said.

I just looked at him. What the hell was he talking about?

“That’s how much free food you ate in the last month alone. If you sat down and ordered all of it off the menu, it would cost almost two thousand dollars.”

I didn’t know what to say. Sure, I liked steak, and pasta, and cheesecake. I liked a lot of food. But I’d never really thought about it like that before. The guys in the kitchen handed me food, and I ate it. That’s what I told him.

He sighed. He had this pinched look on his face. I guess he might have been handsome 20 or 30 years ago, but there was something mean in his features. “I’ve talked to the kitchen staff, and they tell me you’re constantly bothering them for food. I’ve never minded giving out a few meals here and there, but…. This has become an issue.”

I gulped. Maybe I asked for a few freebies here and there, but it’s not like I was some sort of addict. They were pushing it on me! If I asked for it, they made it.

My cheeks were red hot. What do you even say to that? “Okay,” is what I came up with.

“And it’s been affecting your work performance. Customers have complained. Tips are worse when you wait tables, which makes the other waitstaff unhappy. You take breaks constantly. I think maybe it’s time that you moved on.”

Moved on? This guy was firing me? I’d been working there for more than six years, since I was a kid. And now I was out on my ass, because I like to eat and customers don’t want a 400-pounder waiting at their tables? “Woah, I don’t think that’s fair, I—”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Marco. I like you. But you’re not the young man I hired.”

That pissed me off. So this guy wanted me to stay some pretty little piece of ass for the rest of my life? Like the Peter Pan of hot gay jocks? Sorry I’m not a hunky teenager anymore, I wanted to say. Sorry I got fat. That’s fucking life.

But I didn’t. I just stared at him.

“You can work the rest of the shifts on your schedule. But after that, I think it’s best if you find another job.”

Bye, bye moving out: after years of saving up, getting ready to move out on my own without roommates, I could kiss that plan goodbye. I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Food was my comfort and my vengeance. If the owner had a problem with me getting fat off free meals, well, he hadn’t seen anything yet. I had four shifts on my schedule, and Jared and the other cooks made absolutely sure that my gut was completely stuffed after every one of them. How many hundreds of dollars would that have cost me, dick?

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do next, Jared,” I said after my last shift. I was off the clock, but I stayed and watched him cleaning up around the kitchen, prepping for the next day. Damn, he’s really changed: big, brawny arms, prominent pecs, a chiselled jawline… the sort of guy I used to want… and used to be.

He looked up from the herbs he was chopping, staring at me as I picked at a heaping bowl of french fries. “You could move in with me,” he said.

I paused. It was something I wanted, but something I didn’t think I could have. I didn’t even think it was right to want it in the first place. He was such a good cook, and he was pretty much the last good friend I had left in the world. He was the only one who didn’t seem to care what I ate, or how fat I got. Maybe it was because he’d been there himself, or maybe it was because he liked me.

And to be honest, I kind of liked the new me, too. I liked eating. I loved it, actually. I used to challenge myself at the gym, but now, I could challenge myself at the kitchen table. Instead of pushing myself to do more reps, or bench more weight, gluttony was my new challenge. How many donuts can I eat today? Could I polish off a whole frozen cheesecake in one sitting? The answer was usually “yes”, and I’ll admit, there’s an undeniable pleasure in pushing your gut to new horizons. If blowing up like a balloon was a side-effect of that, it was a price I was willing to pay. Big guys had more presence, they took up more space. Was that such a bad thing to be? Was that wrong to want?

I looked at Jared. How many good meals had he made me? How many times had he gone to bat for me when my mom or his dad got on my case? Living with him, hanging out with him all the time, eating his amazing cooking whenever I want it… it all sounded like a dream come true.

“I don’t know, I don’t have a job, I don’t know how I’d pay rent,” I said. Admitting that felt kind of pathetic.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He smiled, but there was something in his eyes, something… dark? “Besides, you’re going to need someone to take care of you when you’re too fat to take care of yourself.”

I felt my throat get tight. He’s never said anything like that before. Jared’s always been this stable, comforting presence. I don’t even know where a comment like that came from.

But I nodded.

Because, deep down, I know he’s right.

And I know I’ll probably like it.

#weight gain #male weight gain #gay #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction

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trivialbob · 3 months

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Last night Sheila and I went to a seafood place. For a cheeseburger.

Coastal Seafoods in Minneapolis is a fresh seafood market. It's a neat little place. When @littlerunnergurl visited us years ago she and I shopped there for ingredients of a seafood stew LRG made for us.

There's a small counter for hot food in back. Two four-tops and a small row of bars stools next to a cold window is the complete dining room. A Facebook page devoted to smashburgers had mentioned this place's burger recently. That's what got us over there.

We ordered one Coastal Burger. "Two 4oz Wagyu Beef Patties, Caramalized Onion Jam, Pickles, American Cheese, & Dijon Mayo on Toasted Brioche!" (images from the Coastal Foods website)

I also ordered the wonderful looking Connecticut Style Lobster Roll. "Warm Lobster & Seasoned Butter on a Toasted Tom Cat Bakery Roll"

The cook cut them in half so Sheila and I could try some of each. Both were fantastic. We didn't order French fries or any sides. The older I get the wiser I am about not ordering too much food. For sure if there had been a serving of fries in front of me I wouldn't have left until the plate was clean. As it was, we walked out feeling satisfied yet not needing to adjust the car seats back so we could fit in the Subaru.

I'd been wanting to see some dive bars. A block away is the Fraternal Order of Eagles #34. It's an appropriately dimly lit place where most of the customers seemed to know each other. We didn't order food, but I almost did just to purchase a cheeseburger for under ten bucks, a rare thing these days.

The bartender was friendly. She knew what to pour for people a few times without asking. I chuckled when she asked us if we'd be okay for a bit unattended when she went outside for a quick smoke.

It's located at the intersection of two similarly named streets. When I was a kid it was mind-blowing when I saw Minneapolis street signs with the same numbers. Sure, the Av and St make a difference, but it still seemed like division by zero to someone not yet accustomed to how cities named numbered east/west and north/south roads. Similarly, I was amazed when my dad pointed out the named streets in some places were in freaking alphabetical order.

After a bottle of beer (and a sunset) we drove south a short distance through the cold and dark night to the Schooner Tavern. It too is at an intersection of numbered streets.

It was a bit louder, but no less dimly lit, than the previous place. The two bartenders were very friendly. Sheila and I again sat at the bar for one beer.

We listened to conversations around us. It was only 5:30 PM but some folks appeared to have started the evening early. A frazzled looking guy (who was probably 15 years younger than he actually appeared) must have gotten the happy hour special on "fucks" which seem to have been a 20-for-1 deal. Whew, I got tired of hearing that word used as noun, verb, adjective, preposition, pronoun, article, and adverb.

The bottles behind the bar appeared to glow. If the bar had been quieter maybe I would have heard them hum.

Sometimes I want of those tiny Red Bull refrigerators with the glass door (as seen in the left side of this picture I took). Sheila doesn't think it would look appropriate on our coffee table no matter how well it fit. People would probably trip over the power cord she also claims. I still want one though.

We still enjoyed the atmosphere while we had one beer. After that we headed to the brewery by our house. It's at the intersection of one named and one numbered street, more to the sensibilities of my suburban mind.

We met up with one couple we know and another couple who were on a second date. The guy is a regular, the woman is new to that crowd. At first she seemed like she wanted to move to a private table. Soon though she warmed up to us, and the six of us had a great conversation.

I'm going to start looking up some more dive bars for another weekend.

#dive bars #numbered streets

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fanficimagery · 2 years

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Be Somebody to Someone 2/4

You've lived your entire life in Forks, Washington without anyone paying too close attention to you. Then you befriend the new girl and suddenly you find yourself friends with the unexpected. And maybe even something more if a certain shapeshifter stops denying the Fates.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR

Words: 4.8K Author’s Note: Congrats! You guys hit 100+ notes on the first part. If this gets the same treatment, I’ll post part three if that happens :)

With your newfound knowledge of the Quileute shapeshifters, you find yourself invited to a bonfire held by the Elders on the reservation. But when you find out you and Bella are to be the first outsiders ever permitted, you try to worm your way out so as to not break their tradition.

Emily, however, is in your corner and convinces you to attend. So you do and to none of your friends' surprise, you find yourself absolutely enthralled with the Quileute legends and the Third Wife's sacrifice. It also probably didn't help that you had taken an edible and had a bit of a trip while listening.

Then with as much time as you spend visiting La Push, your parents surprise you with a brand-new Jeep- it being an early birthday present so you didn't have to hunt down a ride to your new favorite place down in La Push. So while Bella and Jacob continued their little dance, and the pack introduced Quil into the ranks after he shifted for the first time, you bypassed all that drama by driving yourself to Emily's whenever you had any free time.

Parking in front of Emily's, you grab up the two to-go trays and cardboard drink holder from your passenger seat. You manage to hop out without dropping anything and walk up her porch steps.

"Knock, knock!" You call out since your hands are full. "I'm coming in, so if Sam's shorts are around his ankles he better pull them up before I catch an eye full!"

Emily barks out a laugh as she makes an appearance, meeting you just as you manage to open the screen door with your foot. "Sam and the others are on patrol."

"Good. As much as I joke, I'd probably pee myself if I ever cockblocked the alpha wolf."

She smiles in amusement at you. "Never change, YN. Never change."

"I don't plan on it. Now," you state, setting everything down on the table, "I hope you haven't eaten because one of the guys at the drive-in gave me an extra meal." You open up one of the trays to show her. "I have an extra cheeseburger and some cheese fries."

"Ohh. It's been a while since I've had a good cheeseburger," Emily says. The two of you take a seat at her table and she pulls a tray in front of her. You also pass her one of the sodas and then you dig in. "Why'd they give you an extra meal?" You momentarily freeze at her question, your gaze clashes with hers, and then you take a big bite out of your burger to keep from answering. She slowly grins. "YN, what did you do?"

You sheepishly cover your mouth since you're still chewing. "Nothing."

"Bull."

You continue to chew, washing it all down with some Coke. "Well there might or might not have been some guy that's been angling for a date, and I might or might not have agreed."

Emily's smile falters. "You're going on a date with him?"

"Well, yeah." You shrug and eat a bit more. "He's a fun guy, makes me laugh," you tell her. "But I'm not really looking for anything serious. I think he's hoping to change my mind, but I won't. I'll grant him this one date so he can see I'm not all that interested in anything other than friendship."

The subject drops as you hear the familiar whoops and hollers of the approaching pack, and you grin as they all stumble in behind Sam. He immediately makes a beeline for Emily, bending down to kiss her and then steals a couple of fries from her tray. Embry and Jared attempt to ruffle your hair, and Paul merely nods at you.

Embry and Jared plop into the chairs on either side of you, but it's Embry who boldly reaches for a fry which results in you swatting his hand. He pulls his hand back, frowning. "What was that for?"

"I don't take from your plate, so you don't take from mine."

"Yeah, but Sam and Emily-"

"But Sam and Emily," you mock him, causing Jared and Paul to snicker at their brother. "Sam and Emily are doing the do. He's allowed to steal from her plate and vice versa."

Embry suddenly leers. "Well you and I-" Paul immediately slaps him upside the back of the head and you grin.

"Not happening, Cujo."

"You're so mean when you're not high," Embry mumbles.

"Really? And here I thought I was a delight."

Emily ends up serving Sam some of the lunch that was on the stove while letting the other boys have a go at it after she sits back down. Lunch is a loud affair and for the time being you're absolutely happy.

You get halfway through your cheeseburger- it was a big cheeseburger, after all- and a few fries before you start slowing down. The boys take notice and you roll your eyes while gesturing for them to have at it. Paul snatches the half burger before anyone else and you laugh as the other two grumble while digging into the cheese fries.

"Thank you for lunch, YN," Emily tells you once she's finished. "Even if you had to agree to a date for it."

You don't take notice of it, but Paul freezes and the other three males glance worriedly at him. You, however, laugh as you shake your head at your friend. "You make it sound like I pimped myself out for a free meal."

"Didn't you?" The harshness of the words make you freeze and the look on Paul's face makes you gulp.

"No." You frown. "I was given the food before I even accepted the date." Paul scoffs and suddenly you find yourself getting angry. "What is your problem? Since I've met you you've barely strung together a full sentence to say to me, yet-"

"You are. You're my problem."

"Paul," Sam admonishes.

For barely knowing the guy, his words break your heart. But you school your features and pray nothing shows. "Ever since you and that goddamn leech lover showed up-"

"Paul, outside now!" Sam barks.

Paul's mouth snaps shut as he glares at you and he shoves back from the table in a huff. You flinch when the back door slams shut and immediately Emily is apologizing. "YN, I'm so sorry."

"Don't. Don't apologize for him." You flash her and the others a shaky smile as you stand up, collecting your trash to take to the bin. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go ahead and head home."

"You don't-"

"I do." You smile sadly at her before addressing Sam. "I'm sorry if I made him uncomfortable with my presence. It wasn't my intention to do so."

"You did nothing wrong," Embry grumbles, but one sharp look from Sam quiets him.

When Sam glances back at you, his whole demeanor softens. "Embry's right. It's not you, it's Paul. He's got some.. issues to work through, but he was in the wrong to take it out on you. I'll talk with him."

"Don't even worry about it." And then desperate to get out of the conversation, you glance back at Emily and say, "I'll call you later. Thanks for having me over."

Then before anyone can stop you, you rush from the house and out to your Jeep.

You end up calling Emily two days later, but make excuses to prevent from going over to her house. Thankfully school keeps you busy, but it was only a matter of time before you were pulled back to La Push.

It's dark out when your phone rings, Emily urging you to get to her house because apparently one of the Cullens came back and whisked Bella off to Italy.

Clad in only a too large sweatshirt that falls off one shoulder, flashing the strap of your sports bra, and a pair of flimsy cotton sleep shorts, you shove your feet into a pair of sneakers before shouting at your parents that you'll be at Emily's and would probably be back super late or the next day.

When you get to Emily's, you hurriedly park and climb out of your Jeep. Jogging up to her house, you enter without knocking and find everyone sitting around as Jacob angrily paces around the room. When he spots you, Jacob rushes towards you and it makes you stumble back into the wall at his fast approach.

Hands grab onto your bicep and you stare up, wide-eyed, at Jacob. A low, warning growl from behind him makes the two of you tense, but Jacob pays it no mind. "Your friends with the leeches. Call them. Find out what the hell is going on."

"Jacob!" Sam barks. "Hands off. Let YN sit so we can figure out what's going on."

Jacob reluctantly backs off and Emily rushes to your side, quietly making sure you're okay. You smile weakly at her to assure her you are, and then nod at each of the boys who are intently watching you.

"What's even happening?" You ask. Emily retrieves you a glass of water and you smile in thanks at her.

"Those goddamn-"

"Bella," Sam says, speaking over your friend, glaring at him to defy some unspoken thought. He quiets down with a huff and lets Sam speak. "Bella went cliff jumping that resulted in Jacob having to retrieve her from the water. After taking her home, he smelled a leech nearby. Bella recognized the vehicle belonging to one of the Cullens."

"They're back?" You frown.

"Just one," Jacob grumbles. When Sam glares at him, he eventually nods to let him continue the story since he was there. "The small one," he clarifies.

"Alice," you realize.

"But then Edward called and asked for Charlie, and I told him he was out planning a funeral. I guess he thought I meant Bella's and apparently he was going to the vampire royalty so they could kill him."

"Jesus," you mumble, rubbing the spot between your eyebrows. "So why did Alice whisk Bella away then?"

"Because she thinks if they get there in time then Bella can stop Edward from killing himself."

"Do you have any idea about what's going on?" Sam asks. "Any little detail can help. Especially with the vampire royalty they're now speaking of."

You shake your head. "I'm sorry, Sam, I don't." Paul scoffs at his side and you frown at him before giving Sam your full attention once more. "I didn't even know what the Cullens were until after the altercation between Paul and Bella."

"Is there any way to get a hold of them to see if they know anything?" Jacob asks.

"I only have three of their numbers, but they were all disconnected when they moved away."

"Try again," Jacob says.

Glancing at Sam, he nods in agreement. So with a quiet sigh, you pull out your phone from the large pocket in the front of your sweatshirt to scroll through the contacts. You click on Alice's name, but it merely rings once before going to voicemail. "That's new," you mumble. You then scroll down to Edward's name, but his automatically goes to voicemail. "Alice and Edward are a no-go. Let's see about Emmett."

Emmett's number rings once and then twice, and you hurriedly put the call on speaker. It rings twice more before it clicks over.

"I knew I was your favorite."

Your lips twitch in amusement. "Hardly, Dracula. I believe your wife and Jasper are my favorites in your little coven."

The line goes quiet and then, "You know."

"Yeah, I know," you muse. "But that's not what I'm calling about. I'm calling about Bella and why the hell Alice thought it was a good idea to take her out of the country."

There's a brief shuffle on the line before someone else takes over. "Hello YN, it's Carlisle."

"Hello Doctor Cullen."

"May I inquire as to how you found out about our true nature?"

"Sure, but after you explain what Alice and Bella are doing. Jacob is freaking out over here."

Carlisle lets out a soft sigh. "It's to my understanding that my son believed Bella to be dead. With our kind, to lose one's mate, it makes us do foolish things."

"Mate?!" Jacob snarls. He starts to shake uncontrollably and Paul grips him by the shoulder.

"Get him out of here. Now!" Sam demands.

You sigh and then apologize. "Sorry, Carlisle. Please continue."

"With Bella believed dead, Edward wished to join her. He went to the Volturi in hopes they would kill him."

A pad of paper gets held in front of your face and you read a question that had been penned. "Who are the Volturi?"

"They're basically kings in our world. We have to abide by their rules."

"Oh. Okay."

"Now if you don't mind answering my question," Carlisle says.

Sam nods at you and you tell him. "Some of the Quileutes have shifted. When Bella confronted one of them and angered him to the point of shifting, we were both brought back to one of their houses. Since they knew Bella knew of the Cold Ones, they figured it was the same for me. It was by accident I learned about you. Sorry."

"Apology is not necessary," Carlisle chuckles softly. "You have been a trusted friend of this family since Edward met Bella. I'm just sorry you have been brought into all of this."

"Well thank you, Carlisle. I should go, but if you hear any updates, can you please let me know?"

"Of course. Goodnight, Miss YLN."

Just as you hang up, a howl pierces the air. Everyone tenses, but it's the pack who rushes for the door. And before he exits, Sam pauses and looks back at you. "Stay here. Don't leave until we get back."

"Yeah. Okay." As the pack rushes off, you yawn and stand from the table. Glancing at Emily, you ask, "Can we move to the sofas? I'm a little tired."

"Yeah. Of course." She follows you into the living room, handing you a blanket after you toe off your shoes and then curl up in the corner of her sofa. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" You snuggle down, smiling contentedly.

"With the way things are looking, the coven of Cold Ones might be coming back to Forks. If they do, you'll be going to school with them while they know that you know their secret."

"It'll be fine," you assure her. "After hearing the Quileute legends, I know you're not fond of the vampires, but they treated me perfectly well before. And that was because they knew I knew something was inhumane about them. I just never cared to figure out what."

"You're a lot braver than I am," Emily muses.

"Not really. I was just too high and too hungry to care about other people's issues."

Emily grins as she watches you slowly drift off. "Get some sleep, YN. I'll wake you when the others get back."

"M'kay."

Emily tidies up while she has the time. The pack is busy with whatever either Jacob or Paul howled about and you're fast asleep on her couch.

Eventually, once everything is as clean as she can get it, Emily curls up on her sofa chair with the television playing on low. She gets through a couple of FRIENDS episodes before she hears the screen door opening and she sits up.

Sam, Paul and Jared enter the house.

"What happened?" Emily asks. She's addressing Sam, but her gaze falls to Paul whose shoulders sag when he sees YN fast asleep.

Sam catches her stare, grinning. "Jacob caught the scent of a leech on the res. We followed it all the way to Forks, but we're needed here more than there. What about here? She hear anything yet?" Sam asks, gesturing to you.

"No." Emily shakes her head. "She fell asleep right after you guys left, but her phone's been quiet."

"Well there's no use in waking her," he says. "Might as well put her in the guest room for the night."

"I got her," Jared says, only to be stopped with Paul's arm across his chest.

"Like hell you do."

Jared slowly grins. "Why not? YN's a friend of the pack. And besides, it's not like you want her. You made that perfectly clear when you imprinted and fled the kitchen in a huff."

Paul growls, body vibrating.

"That's enough," Sam says, voice hard. "Paul, get YN to the room. Jared, knock it off."

Paul smirks then and Jared rolls his eyes as his brother steps closer to the couch you're asleep on. Carefully, Paul then picks YN up into his arms, one arm under your back and the other under your knees. As he shifts you in his arms and your head lolls to rest on his shoulder, he has to bite the inside of his cheek as you mumble, "Stupid raccoon took my potato," in your sleep.

Emily places a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles and Sam shakes his head in amusement.

"Did she just talk in her sleep?" Jared muses. "Oh my god. We need to record her."

"No." Paul marches off then, careful not to bang your head on the walls or door jamb to Emily's spare room.

It takes Paul a few minutes to get you situated under the blanket all the while making sure you didn't wake. Then when he's done, he takes a step back to watch you snuggle into the comfort of the bed.

"It's not so bad, you know." Emily's quiet words startle him. "Having an imprint isn't the end of the world."

Paul sighs and turns his back on the bed. "It is when you didn't want the bond in the first place."

"Trust in the Fates." Emily smiles as she reaches up, cupping Paul's face in her hand. "They give you boys an imprint for a reason. Just give her a chance."

He says nothing in response because he knew there would be no reasoning with Emily who had embraced the imprint after Sam explained it to her, and she walks off. Paul never wanted to find his, hoping that Sam was just a rare occurrence, but then he had to go and imprint in Emily's kitchen after he tried to attack his imprint's friend. At first, he was livid, but the restless nights proved he was going to have to talk to you sooner or later.

He makes his way back to the living room to find only Sam and Emily. He asks if he can sleep on the couch for the night and Emily lets him, and then he lays down on the same couch YN had been on.

Hours later, you're waking in an unfamiliar room. Through the opened curtains, you can see the sky barely turning pink with the impending sunrise. Yawning, you stretch in the bed you find yourself tucked into and then reach into the pocket of your sweatshirt under the blanket. You pull out your phone, finding a missed text message from Alice who told you that everything was fine, and the entire family would be back to Forks soon.

Stretching once more, you sit up in bed and practically hold your breath as you see someone pass by the opened bedroom door. The person backtracks and you heave a sigh of relief when you see it's Emily.

"You're awake!" She smiles. "I'm about to start breakfast. Why don't you wash up and come join me?"

"Yeah. Okay," you mumble.

As you stumble out of bed and into the bathroom down the hall, you head straight for the bathroom closet for the bin that holds the spare hygiene products you kept there. You place the bin on the counter space, pulling out your toothbrush, toothpaste and mouthwash. Then after making sure your mouth is all minty fresh, you quickly brush out the tangles in your hair and then tie it up in a messy bun. You wash your face last before putting the bin of supplies back in the closet, and then make your way to the kitchen.

"Sleep okay?" Emily asks as you take a seat at the table.

Smiling lazily at her, you nod. "Yeah. Sorry about the sleepover. You should have woken me up."

"It's fine. None of us wanted you to drive home so late at night." She places a cup of coffee in front you and you readily pick it up, blowing on the steaming liquid.

"So what happened?"

"There was a vampire on our land. The pack chased her away, but they weren't comfortable waking you and sending you on your way. I hope you don't get in trouble for staying last night."

"It's fine. My parents love you and I told them that it was likely I wouldn't be home until today anyway."

"Oh. Okay. Eggs?"

"Scrambled, please."

You slowly sip your coffee as Emily cooks and then she's setting a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the table in front of you. She has a plate for herself and the two of you happily dig in.

Halfway through breakfast, a tan arm comes into your line of sight and steals a piece of bacon from you. You're still too sluggish to do anything about it, but you do manage to look up and glare at the culprit. Your glare falters, however, when you find Paul smirking down at you.

"Dick," you mumble. Emily chokes on her coffee and Paul chuckles as he takes a seat next to you. When he reaches for your plate again, you're prepared and swat at his hand. "Stop it. S'not nice."

Sam appears at the table then, yawning as he takes a seat. Emily quickly gets up to make them their breakfast and then soon enough the only sounds in the kitchen are that of the forks clanking against the plates.

After your second cup of coffee and a text message from your mother asking if you could do the grocery shopping when you get in, you decide to head home. You help Emily gather dishes, drying after she washes, and thank her for breakfast and letting you stay over.

As you're heading for the door, you feel pressure at your elbow and look over your shoulder to see Paul right behind you.

"Come on. I'll walk you."

You frown at him, wondering what the hell is going on through his head to give him a change of heart towards you, and glance at Emily to make sure she's seeing what you are. But Emily, nor Sam, are any help as they hide smiles behind their mugs of coffee and refuse to meet your gaze.

"Okay..?" Paul releases your elbow, following behind you as you head towards your jeep. You try to put his odd behavior out of your mind, but just as you open the door and climb into the driver's seat, he stops you from closing the door. Again, you frown at him. "What?"

Paul steps back, hands going to the pockets of his jean shorts. "It's just- with the Cullens coming back, we can't patrol Forks anymore."

"Because of the treaty, right?" You ask, trying to recall what you remember hearing from the bonfire stories.

"Yeah. And with them back, I can't protect you."

"Why-"

"Just promise me something? Watch your back with the leeches," he says, speaking over you in a rush. "They say they eat animals, but they can easily slip and murder a whole town."

You open your mouth to defend the Cullens, but Paul turns on his heel and marches off back towards the house. Speechless, you watch him disappear inside before pulling yourself together and starting your Jeep.

Paul Lahote was seriously giving you whiplash, and you didn't know what to make of him anymore.

The Cullen and Hale family return as expected, and Edward and Bella continue their relationship as if the last few months hadn't happened. Jacob and the rest of the pack were the only ones who were absolutely against their return, and it was no surprise that Bella was instantly put between Jacob and Edward.

Those two fought over Bella like she was the shiny new toy, and you sat back to watch everything unfold. Once or twice they tried dragging you into their petty argument over who was better for Bella, but you never entertained them and wisely kept your mouth shut.

For some reason, Paul is even more amped up around you, sneering and scowling and muttering how you smell like a leech now that they were back in school. But by now, you're used to his attitude and merely let his words go in one ear and out the other.

Unfortunately, you can only keep your cool for so long.

"Do you have any plans this weekend?" Emily asks. She's whipping up some batter for muffins while you lean against her counters, the pack sitting at the table talking amongst each other.

"I do, actually. Rosalie wants to go shopping, but she knows if she asks Alice then Alice will invite Bella, and Rosalie is not a fan."

"A leech?!"

Emily winces and you roll your eyes with a huff as you turn your attention to the now quiet table. "Yes, Paul, the Cold One."

"I thought I told you to be careful around them and now you're spending the day alone with one of them?" He practically seethes. "What the hell are you thinking!?"

"I'm thinking that I can spend the day doing a little retail therapy, that's what I'm thinking."

"They could kill you!"

"So could you!" You finally snap.

"Oh shit. Now you've done it," Jared muses. "YN never raises her voice."

"Both species are dangerous, but I don't see you warning me off the res," you say. "So what the hell is the real issue here?"

"YN, I don't think-"

"No, Em," you cut her off, lowering your voice and shaking your head at her. "I'm done. I'm tired of the attitude and belittling, and now I think it's time for answers." Turning back towards Paul, you ask, "So what is it? You obviously don't like me much, which is fine, but you are so dead set against me hanging out with my friends. So why?"

Paul's glaring at you, but you refuse to avert your gaze. You want answers and you want them now.

"Just tell her, man," Embry says. "This has been going on long enough."

You have no idea what he's talking about, but apparently Paul does. His glare is briefly directed at Embry before turning back to you, and eventually his shoulders sag. "You're my imprint."

"I have no idea what that means."

"You're basically his soulmate," Jared says. "The Fates decide that there is one person perfect for us. So whatever you need, Paul can become it- friend, brother, or lover." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, but his words earn him a slap upside the head from Sam.

Your eyes subtly widen and you stand a little straighter. "W-What?"

"I didn't want you." You rear back as Paul's words instantly make your chest ache. Something must flash across your face because his own eyes widen. "No, I didn't mean-"

"You did." You cross your arms over your chest, holding yourself together. "And i-it's okay. I get it, I think."

"YN.." Paul stands, but you quickly shake your head at him.

"You wanted the choice to pick, am I right? And the Fates took it out of your hands." Your eyes tear up and you quickly glance to your side so he doesn't see you cry. Emily, however, looks just as heartbroken as you feel. "I, uh, I think I should go."

"Are you sure?" She asks.

"Definitely." You flash her a feeble smile. "I'll text you when I get home." As you make your way towards the door, from the corner of your eye you see Paul reach for you. But before he can even touch you, you pull away from him. "Don't."

You walk out the door, not bothering to look back.

Inside Emily's house, all is quiet. Everyone can hear the sound of YN's Jeep starting and driving off.

"That was cruel, even for you, man." All eyes are on Jacob as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Paul asks.

"Texting Bella to have her check on YN. Thanks to Emily we know our imprints feel a bit of the bond and you flat out just told yours that you didn't want her."

"I didn't mean it like that! She didn't let me explain."

"Why should she?" Finished with his text, he looks up to meet Paul's gaze. "You've treated her like crap since you've met her. You should've spoken to her a long time ago about the imprint, like we told you, so you could avoid this exact mess. You didn't and now you get to lie in the bed you've made."

Jacob stands and Paul tenses when he notices his packmate heading for the back door. "Where are you going?"

"To patrol and then to go check on my friend."

To be continued..

#paul x reader #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #twilight imagine #paul lahote #emily young #jacob black #sam uley #twilight #new moon

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