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rmadridcore · 6 months ago

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When You’re Here

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Requested

Summary: Jude, missing you deeply, is overwhelmed with joy and love when you surprise him by showing up at the Bernabéu to watch him play.

Word Count: 3.1K

Author’s note: I had this in my requests for a while, sorry for the delay, hope you love it anon! 🤍

Jude’s typical training day demeanor was straightforward: laser-focused. On any other day, he’d immerse himself fully in the drills and exercises, cracking a joke here and there during breaks but tuning everything else out when it came time to work. Today, though? Today was different. Yesterday was the same. In fact, he hadn’t been himself for weeks — ever since you left for that work trip.

Normally, Jude could handle brief separations. He was no stranger to them, away games you couldn’t attend or your quick business trips that lasted a week, tops. But this time was different. You had been gone for almost a month, and Jude was on the verge of losing it.

Sure, you two FaceTimed every night before bed. You called whenever you had a spare moment. You texted back and forth throughout the day, as much as your schedules allowed. But none of it felt like enough for Jude. He wanted you there with him — not just virtually, but physically. He needed to feel the warmth of your presence, to hold you, to have you by his side. The emptiness of your absence seemed to grow louder with every passing day.

“This is probably the 20th time you’ve checked your phone, bro,” Camavinga teased, breaking Jude out of his spiraling thoughts. Jude wiped the sweat from his face with a towel, phone in hand for what felt like the millionth time today, scanning for a reply that still hadn’t come.

Jude sighed, tossing the towel aside. “I texted her, and she hasn’t responded,” he muttered, his frustration slipping out in his tone.

Camavinga chuckled. “She’s probably busy, man.”

Jude nodded half-heartedly, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, maybe,” he admitted, though the crease in his brow remained.

“How long’s it been since you texted her?” Vini chimed in.

Jude blinked, glancing back at his phone to check. His teammates knew you well. They’d met you often at team dinners and events, where you were always effortlessly charming, seamlessly blending into their lively banter. They also knew how hopelessly smitten Jude was with you — and, admittedly, they’d been enduring his constant moping and wistful sighs for weeks now.

“Fifteen minutes,” Jude declared, as if that was an eternity, his voice tinged with irritation. He tossed his phone onto the bench with a thud.

The boys exchanged amused glances before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.

Jude shook his head, his lips twitching in reluctant amusement. “You lot are useless,” he muttered, though a soft chuckle escaped him.

He sat down next to them, stretching his legs and trying, and failing, to shift his focus back to training. He knew logically that you weren’t ignoring him. You had a demanding job that kept you busy, and the rational part of him understood that you’d reply the moment you had a free moment. But logic wasn’t winning against the ache of missing you.

The truth was, Jude wasn’t just annoyed or impatient, he felt incomplete without you. Over time, he’d come to realize how deeply you’d become woven into his life. You weren’t just his partner; you were his peace in the chaos, his constant in the mess of fame and football. You made him laugh when nothing else could, listened when he needed to vent, and brought a light into his life that felt irreplaceable.

And now, without you here, that light felt dimmer. He was counting the hours, the minutes, until he could have you back in his arms.

After working out for a while, Jude decided to take a break. He grabbed his phone again, and this time, relief washed over him as he saw your name lighting up his screen with a new message. His face lit up instantly, the weight of his frustration and sadness dissolving in an instant. A humongous smile spread across his face as he eagerly opened the message and began typing a reply.

For those few minutes, he felt like himself again. Chatting with you, even briefly, was enough to lift his spirits and give him the boost he desperately needed. But all too soon, he had to return to training. Reluctantly, he said goodbye, promising to talk later.

As Jude put his phone back and glanced up, he caught a reflection in the mirror that made him pause. Rodrygo was mimicking him with an exaggerated, love-struck grin, pretending to text on an invisible phone. Vini, standing beside him, was silently cracking up, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.

Jude grabbed his towel and tossed it at the pair, hitting Rodrygo square in the chest. “Idiots,” he muttered with a half-smile, shaking his head. Their laughter only grew louder, echoing through the training area.

The rest of the session passed uneventfully, but Jude’s mood was noticeably lighter after talking to you. Once training wrapped up, he showered and headed back to his room at Valdebebas. The exhaustion from the day caught up with him, and he longed to be home in his own bed. But more than that, he wished you were there beside him.

Lying in bed, Jude grabbed his phone to FaceTime you, a nightly ritual whenever the two of you were apart. Truthfully, he missed home more when you weren’t there, mainly because when you weren’t around, he found himself hugging your pillow as he slept. It was a habit he wouldn’t dare admit to anyone, not even you.

When your face appeared on his screen, it was as if the entire world shifted back into focus. “Hi, baby,” you greeted him with your sweet voice, and the stress that had been weighing on his chest dissipated instantly.

“Hey, my love. How was your day?” he asked, propping himself up against the pillows.

You started talking about your day, how busy and tiring it had been, but also how much you missed him. Jude sighed as he listened, nodding along with a soft smile, though the longing in his heart grew with every word.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow’s game?” you asked, noticing the subtle tension in his expression as he rubbed his face, clearly trying to shake off his frustration.

“Fine, I guess,” he replied, his voice low and filled with fatigue. “We should do well. I just wish you were here.”

Your heart ached at the way his voice softened when he said that. “Aww, Jude. I miss you so much. I wish I could be there too,” you admitted, your voice laden with emotion. You missed everything about him — his scent, his warm hugs, the way he’d kiss your forehead, the silly songs he’d hum, even the soft snoring you used to tease him about.

“I always play better when you’re here supporting me,” he said, his words carrying the weight of truth. It was something he’d told you many times before, and he meant every word. When you were in the stands, cheering him on, he felt like he could conquer anything.

“You will be watching, though, right?” he asked, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes. He knew you never missed his games, even when you were busy, and the thought of you not being there, even virtually, dampened his spirits.

You hesitated, biting your lip. You didn’t want to lie to him, but you had to for the sake of the surprise. “I’ll try my best to watch, baby. I have a meeting at the same time as the match, but I’ll do everything I can to catch some of it,” you said apologetically.

Jude’s face fell slightly, and the sight of his disappointment tugged at your heartstrings. “Okay,” he said quietly, trying to mask his sadness.

“I’ll be supporting you from afar, love. You know I love you so much,” you said, hoping to cheer him up.

“I love you too. More than anything,” he replied, his voice firm despite his obvious exhaustion.

“Get some rest now, okay? You need to be ready for tomorrow,” you reminded him gently. You could see the sleepiness in his eyes, but you knew he’d never be the one to end the call first. Jude loved hearing your voice so much that he’d rather fall asleep mid-conversation than hang up.

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Goodnight, Jude. Sweet dreams,” you whispered, watching as he slowly drifted off, still clutching the phone.

Match days for Jude had always been a rollercoaster of emotions, but not in the way most people might think. While he naturally felt a bit of anxiety before stepping onto the pitch, the dominant emotions coursing through him were always motivation and determination. Jude was fiercely dedicated, a player who thrived on focus and precision, never allowing his nerves to get the better of him.

As part of his pre-match ritual, Jude strolled onto the pitch long before the stadium filled with roaring fans. With his headphones on, he stepped onto the pristine grass, taking a slow walk around the grounds. It was his way of grounding himself, visualizing the game ahead, and soaking in the calm before the storm. The music in his ears created a protective bubble, letting him zone in on the task at hand.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Pulling it out, he glanced at the screen and saw your name flashing with an incoming FaceTime call. A small frown formed on his face as he answered — it wasn’t like you to call so close to your big meeting.

“Hey, gorgeous,” your voice greeted him, warm and teasing, immediately cutting through the hum of pre-match nerves.

“Hey,” he replied, slipping one hand into his pocket as he cradled the phone in the other. “How’s it going halfway across the world?”

You smirked, tilting the camera just enough to give him a better view of your face. “Work’s been good, but I wouldn’t say I’m quite halfway across the world anymore.”

Jude squinted at the screen, his brows furrowing. Something about the background behind you seemed… familiar. He also noticed the collar of the shirt you were wearing, it looked suspiciously like a Real Madrid jersey.

“Wait… where are you?” he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion.

“What do you mean?” you replied with an innocent tone, though the twitch of your lips betrayed your amusement.

“That—” He leaned closer to the screen, narrowing his eyes. “That looks like a stadium behind you.”

Feigning confusion, you turned the camera slightly, revealing a glimpse of the unmistakable seats of the Bernabéu. “Oh, this place? Yeah, it’s kinda cool. Thought I’d check it out.”

Jude froze, his jaw going slack as the realization hit him. “No way. Are you—? You’re here?!”

“Surprise!” you exclaimed, flipping the camera to fully reveal yourself standing by the edge of the pitch, already decked out in his jersey.

He ran a hand on his face, his heart skipping a beat. Quickly, he glanced around the stadium, which was still mostly empty since the game was hours away. When his eyes found you, waving at him from the sidelines and blowing him a kiss, his entire face lit up. If it weren’t for the cameras and a few teammates milling around, he might have jumped up and down like an overexcited kid. Instead, he settled for a wide, uncontrollable grin.

“Are you serious? You didn’t tell me? When did you get here?” His gaze flicked back to his phone, needing to see your face up close.

“This morning,” you replied with a playful shrug. “I wanted to see that priceless look on your face.”

Jude shook his head, his grin so wide it almost hurt. His chest felt impossibly full, his heart pounding in a way no pre-match ritual could replicate. “You’re unreal,” he murmured, his voice brimming with disbelief and affection.

“You’re welcome,” you teased, leaning casually against the railing. “Now go out there and show me why I flew all this way.”

He chuckled, shaking his head again. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You scored a few goals, I guess,” you replied with a wink, making him laugh.

“I’ll score ten tonight if it means you’ll keep surprising me like this.” His tone softened, a rare vulnerability slipping through. “Thank you for being here. It means everything.”

“Always,” you said, your voice tender and sincere. “Now go win us that game.”

With one last look, he ended the call, his chest swelling with newfound energy. He felt unstoppable.

The game began with Real Madrid dominating right from the first whistle. The team controlled the pace effortlessly, holding possession, creating chances, and putting pressure on the opposition. Jude was a maestro on the pitch, gliding with the ball as if it were an extension of himself. His mind occasionally flickered to you, sitting somewhere in the stands, watching him. The thought of you there, cheering for him, filled him with an unmatched drive.

The match was electric. Vinícius scored the opening goal with a stunning strike, followed by Rodrygo slotting one in with finesse. Jude orchestrated the midfield, dictating the flow of the game, and his every move seemed to hum with purpose. Victory felt inevitable, and the energy in the stadium was palpable.

In moments of brief stillness on the pitch, Jude would glance toward the stands, knowing you were there, proud and beaming. It pushed him to play harder, better, with every passing minute.

The atmosphere at the Bernabéu was electric, as always. The fans roared with passion, their energy pulsating through the stadium. The game had been going spectacularly well, but Jude had one thing on his mind — a goal. His performance had been stellar, commanding the midfield with his usual elegance and precision. But scoring in front of you after so long felt essential. You hadn’t watched him play in person in what felt like forever, and he wanted this goal to be just for you.

As the minutes ticked down, Jude's focus sharpened. While directing the game from midfield, he kept scanning for spaces to exploit, calculating every opportunity to find the net. And then, as if fate had aligned perfectly, the ball came flying toward him off a cross. He surged forward, meeting it with a powerful header that sailed past the keeper and into the back of the net.

The stadium erupted. The cheers were deafening, a symphony of celebration as his teammates rushed to embrace him. Jude stood there, soaking it all in, arms wide open in his iconic celebration. Yet, despite the roaring applause and the love from tens of thousands of fans, all he could think about was you. He imagined your radiant smile, your eyes shining with pride. In that moment, nothing else mattered.

He kissed the badge on his chest, but as he waved to the crowd, his gaze flickered up toward the VIP section. He knew you were watching, and the thought filled him with an unmatched sense of accomplishment. Taking a deep breath, he let the adrenaline rush through him, knowing the game, and his night, couldn’t have gone any better.

The final whistle blew, sealing the victory. The Bernabéu buzzed with excitement, the fans still chanting his name long after the match ended. But Jude’s thoughts weren’t on the post-match celebrations or the cameras following his every move. His focus was singular: you.

In the tunnel, his teammates teased him mercilessly. “In a rush, mate?” one of them quipped. “Someone special waiting for you?”

Jude only laughed, brushing off the comments as he hurried through his post-match routine. A quick change, a few celebratory high fives with his teammates, and a rapid cleanup later, he was finally free. Emerging near the VIP area, his eyes scanned the space eagerly until they landed on you.

You stood by the railing, his jersey hanging slightly oversized on your frame, a grin lighting up your face as your eyes met his. Jude didn’t think — he moved. Jogging straight toward you, he ignored the curious glances from onlookers, his entire world narrowing down to the sight of you.

“You,” he murmured as he reached you, pulling you into his arms without hesitation. His hands slid around your waist, lifting you off the ground slightly as he buried his face in your neck. The familiar scent of your perfume washed over him, and in that moment, it felt like coming home. Holding you after so long filled the emptiness that had grown inside him.

“You were incredible,” you whispered, your arms tightening around his shoulders. “Man of the match, Mr. Bellingham.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his cheeks flushed from the game and the overwhelming joy of having you there. “You don’t know how much it meant to see you up there tonight,” he said, his voice soft. His eyes held that familiar twinkle you adored, a warmth that only appeared when he looked at you.

“Seeing you score was worth every minute of the flight,” you teased, your fingers brushing gently against his cheek. “Not bad for someone who’s been pouting over FaceTime all month.”

He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “I wasn’t pouting.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” you replied with a grin, your fingers playing with the hem of his jersey.

Jude leaned closer, his voice dropping low so only you could hear. “You know, I was planning to dedicate that goal to you. But I figured kissing the badge was slightly less obvious than blowing a kiss to the VIP box.”

“Smooth,” you quipped, your eyes sparkling. “Guess I’ll take it.”

“Take this too,” he said, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. Though quick, it was impossibly tender, a moment that conveyed everything he felt for you. Jude had a way of making even the simplest gestures feel like declarations of love, and this was no exception.

The world around you blurred. Despite the residual chaos of the stadium, the two of you stood in a little bubble of intimacy, your connection shutting out everything else.

“You’re coming home with me, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

“Where else would I go?” you replied, taking his hand in yours.

“Good,” he said, intertwining your fingers with his. “Because after tonight, you’re not allowed to leave again.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, though the smile on your lips betrayed your amusement. “We’ll see about that, superstar.”

“Oh, it’s not up for debate,” Jude replied confidently, squeezing your hand as he led you toward the exit.

And with that, the night belonged to the two of you — a perfect ending to a perfect day.

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222strawberries · 3 months ago

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WHAT A WEIGHT PLATEAU REALLY IS

a weight plateau happens due to metabolic adaptation; where you have been in a calorie deficit or doing extreme diets for months without breaks and your weight isn't going anywhere. this is your body's way of protecting you or conserving energy.

a weight plateau is not rare and can happen at any time, especially once your body adapts to a certain intake. but, if you are truly in a calorie deficit, you will lose fat even if the scale shows that you're maintaining your weight.

metabolic adaptation is only a temporary response, if you follow the things down below, you'll most likely see a change and your metabolism will start to improve (with time) !!!

some things you should check if you suspect you might've hit a plateau:

✿ your water intake ❀ some people confuse a weight plateau with water retention. it is EXTREMELY important to note that water retention CAN cause the scale to maintain and can cause you to look "bulky" or "fat". make sure you're staying hydrated and drinking at least 2-4 bottles of water daily !!! i promise there will be a major difference.

✿ start tracking your calories for a few days (if you haven't been doing that already) ❀ this one is obvious. but sometimes we're prone to underestimating our meals or forgetting things we've eaten throughout the day. sometimes it's just out of plain embarrassment, where we're too ashamed to write it down. but it is super important to document everything you've eaten, especially if it's to see if you're truly in a plateau or if it's just miscalculations. if you're not into calorie counting, then portion control can be a good alternative.

✿ start exercising ❀ it doesn't have to be anything extreme, just moving your body might help. it doesn't matter if you get 4k steps or do a 10 minute video, all movement is good movement and might help break your plateau.

✿ while on the topic of exercise, make sure the exercises that you're doing aren't causing muscle gain. ❀ i have pcos and it doesn't help that due to my genetics, i tend to build muscle extremely easily as well. when i do exercises like cycling or leg pilates or any exercise in general that engages one point of muscles too much, they start to appear bulky after a few days and the scale ends up maintaining or going up. i've learned that just walking at a moderate pace is what works best for me and ever since i stopped cycling, the scale started dropping and i've gotten skinnier. with that being said, find out if your exercises are the reason for the scale maintaining, pay close attention to measurements and/or before and after photos, and check for symptoms of pcos if you suspect you have it!

✿ if none of these are the culprit, then it's definitely time for a metabolism/refeed day (or week... or month) ❀ eat somewhere close to your maintenance (TDEE) for a few days and then after some time you can start restricting again… that way your weight on the scale will start dropping.

❀ if you want to avoid these plateaus in the future, it's important to implement at least 1 or 2 metabolism days a week AND follow everything that i mentioned before !!

❀ it should be noted that you do not have to have metabolism days, sometimes they work and sometimes they don't. it honestly just depends on the person. like for me, i've stayed around the same calorie intake since december 2024. i was steadily losing weight until one day the scale kept maintaining in february 2025 despite doing my workouts and being in my deficit. it was only until i started upping my water intake is when the scale started dropping again. i barely had to do any refeed days. however, this isn't guaranteed to work for another person. it all just depends on how your body reacts so do whatever works best for your body ♡

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logansargeantsbabymom · 11 months ago

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Bar Realizations

Charles Xavier x Fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

a/n: I’ve had this story in my notes drafts for a hot minute but I never posted it but now I feel like I should.

ALSO!!! I HAVE TO START A NEW F1 &F2 MASTERLIST SO BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THAT!!!!

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

Instagram

Marvel Masterlist

I had always known I was different. From the time I was little, strange things happened around me. Objects moved without cause, emotions surged uncontrollably, and the whispers in my head never ceased. When I discovered the full extent of my powers, I knew I needed help—someone who could guide me. That's when I met Charles Xavier.

He was young, kind, and immensely powerful. His ability to control and influence minds was unparalleled, but it was his patience and understanding that drew me in. He offered to help me harness my abilities, and I accepted, desperate to gain control over the chaos within me.

The process was grueling. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, filled with intense training sessions, meditation, and mental exercises. There were moments when I wanted to give up, when the weight of my powers felt too heavy to bear. But Charles was always there, encouraging me, pushing me to my limits, and teaching me to master my abilities. Over time, our relationship deepened. I found myself drawn to him, not just because he was my mentor, but because of who he was—compassionate, intelligent, and incredibly attractive.

One evening, after a particularly challenging session, Charles suggested we take a break. “How about we go out for drinks? Just the two of us,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

My heart skipped a beat. Was this a date? Did he feel the same way about me as I did about him? Trying to contain my excitement, I agreed, and we made our way to a cozy bar in town.

The atmosphere was perfect—dim lights, soft music, and a sense of intimacy that made my pulse quicken. We sat at a corner table, and for a while, everything felt perfect. We laughed, talked about everything and nothing, and I felt closer to him than ever before.

But then, she appeared. A tall, confident blonde with a predatory smile. She sauntered over to our table and immediately latched onto Charles, ignoring my presence entirely. “Hey, handsome,” she purred, placing a hand on his arm. “Mind if I join you?”

Charles tried to gently extricate himself from her grasp. “Actually, we’re on a date,” he said, nodding towards me.

The blonde glanced at me and scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like he’d ever go out with you.”

The words stung, and anger flared within me. How dare she dismiss me so easily? I felt a surge of energy, the familiar tingle of my powers awakening. Discreetly, I focused on her, channeling my emotions into a subtle spell. Suddenly, the blonde started babbling, spilling embarrassing secrets about herself.

“I can't believe I lost my job today,” she blurted out, her eyes wide with horror. “And my ex dumped me because I cheated on him. Oh my god, why am I saying this?”

She turned and fled, humiliated, leaving Charles and me alone once more. I felt a pang of satisfaction, but it was short-lived. Charles turned to me, his expression serious.

“Did you use your powers?” he asked quietly.

Guilt washed over me, and I nodded. “I’m sorry. I just... I don’t know. I felt jealous, possessive. I wanted you all to myself.”

Charles sighed and suggested we head back to the school. The drive back was silent, the weight of my actions pressing down on me. Had I ruined everything? As we pulled up to the mansion, I couldn’t bear the silence any longer.

“Charles, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to lose control. I just... I care about you so much, and seeing her with you made me feel... threatened.”

He remained silent, his face unreadable. As we entered the mansion, I turned to head to my room, wanting to escape the shame and disappointment I felt.

But then, I heard his voice in my mind. “Y/N, I’m not mad or disappointed. In fact, I’m feeling quite the opposite. That was the hottest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

I stopped in my tracks, my heart racing. Turning around, I saw him standing there, a faint smile playing on his lips. Before I knew it, Charles closed the distance between us, his lips crushing against mine in a passionate kiss.

My body responded immediately to his touch, my desire for him igniting like wildfire. I moaned into his mouth, my hands roaming over his strong chest as I returned his kiss eagerly. Charles' taste and touch were addictive, and I already knew I would never get enough of him.

Guided by pure instinct, Charles backed me up against a wall, his lips never leaving mine as he reached behind me to open a nearby door. Still kissing me deeply, he backed us into his bedroom, our mouths fused together.

Breaking the kiss briefly, Charles growled softly, his breath hot against my ear, "Get on the bed, baby." His voice was thick with desire, and I felt my core clench at the commanding tone he was taking with me. I wanted him to take control, to show me just how much he wanted me.

I did exactly as I was told, my heart pounding in my chest as I climbed onto the bed and looked up at Charles expectantly. He reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it, revealing his muscled chest and abs.

My mouth watered at the sight, my eyes roaming over his defined body as I licked her lips subconsciously.

Charles kicked off his shoes and undid his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, his hard length springing free. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, and my pussy clenched at the sight, my own clothes feeling too tight and restricting.

"Take your clothes off for me, baby," Charles demanded, his voice hoarse as he watched her intently. "Show me that beautiful body."

I sat up, my hands shaking slightly as I lifted my top over my head, revealing my lace bra and the swell of my breasts. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my jeans, shimmying out of them, and then slowly stepped out of my panties, now completely naked and on display for Charles.

He groaned, his eyes raking over my body, taking in my breasts and smooth pussy. "You're fucking gorgeous, you know that?" He took a step closer, reaching out to trail a finger along my inner thigh, his touch sending shivers through me.

"Charles..." I whimpered, my voice filled with need. I had spread my legs slightly, inviting him to touch me where I wanted and needed it the most.

As if reading my mind, Charles smiled wickedly, lowering himself between my thighs. He nuzzled my creamy thighs with his face, placing soft kisses along my sensitive skin as he made his way closer to my core.

I sighed, my hands threading through his hair as I savored the feel of his lips and tongue on my skin.

"Mmm, you taste so sweet," Charles murmured against my pussy, his warm breath teasing me. He kissed my inner thighs again before finally zeroing in on my center, his tongue snaking out to lick a long, slow stripe along my slit.

I cried out, my hips bucking involuntarily as I felt his tongue swipe through my folds, collecting my essence. "Oh God, Charles!"

Encouraged by my reaction, Charles gently gripped my thighs, spreading me open further to give him better access. He swirled his tongue around my clit before sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. At the same time, he inserted two fingers into my dripping core, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside me.

"Fuck, yes!" I moaned, my body writhing on the bed as Charles ate me out with skill and enthusiasm.

My hands grasped the bedsheets as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over me. Charles devoured me eagerly, clearly enjoying the sweet nectar I was offering him.

It didn't take long for me to climax, my walls clenching around Charles' fingers as I cried out his name.

Charles hummed in satisfaction, licking and lapping up my juices as I rode out my orgasm. But he didn't stop there, continuing to work his magic with his tongue and fingers until I was trembling with sensitivity.

"Please... I can't take any more," I panted, my body still throbbing from the intense orgasms. "I need to taste you now."

With a grin, Charles withdrew his fingers and tongue, giving me a moment to catch my breath. Then he climbed up the bed, positioning himself above me. I reached for his throbbing cock, wrapping my hand around the shaft and stroking him slowly as I guided him to my waiting mouth.

I swirled my tongue around the engorged head, tasting the salty pre-cum before taking him deep into my mouth. Charles hissed, his hips bucking slightly as he threaded his fingers through my hair, gently guiding me as I sucked him off.

I took my time, swirling my tongue around his length, sucking and bobbing my head as I looked up at him through my lashes. I loved the power I felt in this position, knowing that I could bring this strong, powerful mutant to his knees with just my mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N... that feels so good," Charles groaned, his hips picking up a slight rhythm as he gently fucked my face.

I hummed in response, the vibration making Charles grit his teeth. He couldn't hold back anymore; he wanted to feel the tight heat of my mouth around him as he came. With a low growl, he began to thrust into my mouth, his pace quickening as he chased his release.

"Fuck my face, Charles," I moaned, loving the feel of his hard length sliding between my lips. "Cum for me."

my dirty words sent Charles over the edge, and with a hoarse cry, he spilled down my throat, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself into my eager mouth.

I savored the taste of him, swallowing every drop he gave me as he rode out his intense orgasm.

We lay together for a moment, catching our breath, before Charles gently withdrew from her mouth, a satisfied smile on his face. "You are amazing, baby."

The comment made me blush, a happy warmth spreading through me as I reached up to kiss him. "Your turn to lay back and enjoy the ride."

With a twinkle in his eye, Charles lay back on the bed, his hard cock standing proud as he watched me straddle him. I smiled wickedly, reaching for a condom from the bedside drawer before rolling it onto him with ease.

I took my time, rubbing my slick folds against his length as I teased us both. Charles hissed, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to urge me down onto him. "Tease," he accused playfully, reaching up to tweak my nipples, making me gasp.

"Impatient," I retorted, aligning myself with him before slowly sinking down, taking him deep inside me. We both groaned, I threw my head back as I savored the feel of him stretching me.

Charles' hands gripped my hips, guiding me as I began to ride him, my tits bouncing with each bounce.

The sound of our skin slapping together filled the room as I picked up the pace, my hips moving in perfect rhythm. Charles thrust up to meet me, his hands squeezing the flesh of my ass as he helped to guide me onto him.

"You feel so good, baby," Charles panted, his eyes closed in ecstasy. "So wet and tight."

I moaned, my head falling forward as I got lost in the sensations. Charles' cock hit all the right spots inside me, and I could feel my orgasm building already.

Reaching between us, I started to rub my clit in tight circles as I rode him harder, my breath coming in short gasps. "Oh, fuck... I'm gonna cum, Charles."

"Cum for me, baby," Charles urged, his voice thick with his own desire. "Let me feel you squeeze my cock with that tight pussy."

As if on cue, my walls clenched around him, my juices flowing as I cried out his name. Charles groaned, his hips snapping up to meet mine as he thrust into me one last time, spilling himself into the condom.

Our bodies shuddered together as we rode out our intense, mutual orgasm.

Collapsing onto his chest, I felt Charles' arms wrap around me, holding me close. We were both sweaty and sticky, but the post-coital glow and the feeling of satisfaction made it all worth it.

"That was incredible," I murmured, placing a soft kiss on his chest.

Charles smiled, his hand gently tracing invisible circles on my back. "It certainly was. But we're not done yet."

I lifted my head to look at him, a mischievous glint in my eye. "Oh, really? And what did you have in mind?"

Charles' gaze darkened with desire. "I want to try something different. Something a little wilder."

Intrigued, I bit my lip. "Like what?"

Charles rolled them over, pressing a kiss to my neck. "You'll see," he whispered, his hand reaching down to stroke my slick folds. "But first, I want to taste you again."

————

My first Marvel story!!!!

Taglist:

@hiireadstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @dhanihamidi @eddieharrington @tallrock35

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rsg-energya · 1 year ago

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How Weight Loss Without Exercise

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feeder86 · 1 year ago

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Train to Gain

“I want to get jacked!” Jay declared, standing in front of his new personal trainer with his chest puffed out.

Matt nodded, having heard the same thing many times from plenty of guys like Jay, in their early twenties. “Okay, so we’re aiming for muscle gains,” he clarified, making a note of it. “Is there a reason why you want to make this your focus?” he asked, seeing from Jay’s body that he already had a pretty good build that most guys would have been envious of.

Jay nodded. “I’ve just split up with a girl I’ve been with since high school,” he stated without a drop of remorse or sorrow. “I feel like I want to finally do something for myself. You know what I mean? I want to look good. Muscular. Lean.”

Matt nodded. So, just like all the other guys, this one believed that getting more muscle on him would help him score with the ladies. He didn’t need a PhD to crack that little mystery about the boy’s true intention. It was a tale as old as time itself.

Being so muscular himself, guys like Jay seemed to gravitate towards Matt on an almost daily basis, knowing that he could deliver the results they wanted. They saw his statuesque physique in the gym and felt that working out with a guy as built as he was was akin to ordering that body type for themselves in a catalogue. But Matt was not convinced by this latest client. Jay was a pretty-looking boy, with large soulful eyes and a gentle innocence about him. He wouldn’t be single for long. Some girl would come along, snap him up, and this whole muscle workout craze would be a thing of the past for him.

Nevertheless, Matt settled down to a detailed conversation about what it would take, the commitment Jay would need to make and the amount of sessions he would arrange with him each week. It was obvious that Jay had all the enthusiasm for his goals, but little knowledge of how to actually get there. “We’ll take things slow to begin with,” he smiled. “Then we’ll see how we get on.”

Seeming pleased, Jay shook Matt’s hand and threw his workout bag over his shoulder to leave. Then, as Jay was walking out of the gym, Matt watched as the eyes of every woman in there drifted towards his cute, tight glutes in his fitted gym shorts. Matt chuckled, nodding knowingly. It may have been Jay’s first time being single in his adult life, but it wouldn’t take the pretty boy long to work out that he didn’t need any more muscle to get women. Three weeks, maximum, Matt predicted. There was no way Jay would be paying for his services for longer than that; not when he didn’t need to.

Matt was aware that he was in the minority when it came to enjoying those winter months. But as the holidays came and went, he jumped out of bed with a renewed spring in his step, knowing that the gym would be fit to bursting with chubby, overweight and under-exercised guys trying to make a fresh start for the New Year. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly it was that he loved about them so much: that doughy shape, the jiggle of fat as they strolled on the treadmills. Maybe it was the way their sweat made their tight gym clothes stick to their rounded bodies . Matt was both mesmerised and fascinated by it all at the same time.

It was around this time of year that he had met his now ex-boyfriend who had been trying to lose a few pounds back then. He’d copped a lot of crap from his colleagues at the gym for dating someone so big, and he’d had to challenge them multiple times for their attitudes towards the match. So what if he was into bigger guys? Whose business was it who he dated? Certainly not theirs. Not that any of it mattered in the end. Nine months in and the whole relationship had fallen apart anyway. His heart broken, just as they had all been expecting,

“Alright! That was pretty good!” Matt marvelled a staggering twelve weeks later, as Jay successfully squatted his biggest weight yet. He slapped the guy on his shoulder and passed him his water. “You’re killing it!” he smiled encouragingly.

“But I don’t look any different yet,” Jay grumbled, repeating the same complaint that had surfaced again and again in their recent sessions. “Sure, I’m a little stronger, but not much.”

“We’re taking it slow, remember,” Matt stated calmly. “You were quite clear from the start that you wanted to add muscle the lean way. It just takes a little more time.”

“But what’s the alternative?” Jay asked.

“Proper bulking,” Matt replied. “You give your body all the calories it needs to grow. We discussed this in our first meeting, remember?” he explained, a little exasperated. “You were insistent. You wanted a lean muscle bulk.”

“I want to be bigger,” Jay shot back.

“If you go with the bulking option, you’d have to accept the fact that not all of the gains you make would be muscle,” Matt tried to clarify.

“But I saw this guy online…” Jay began, rambling yet again about some viral influencer who claimed to know it all about how to get ripped with ease.

Matt bit his tongue. He genuinely liked Jay, but he was fed up of trying to debunk all of the insane fitness myths clients came in with these days. He was only twenty seven, and yet he wondered how much longer he could stand to do this job when there was so much misinformation out there. “Look, let’s just try it,” he suggested forcefully, cutting Jay off mid sentence. “I’ll set you up with a bulking plan and we’ll see what happens. If you’re not happy after a couple of weeks, you can fire me and send all your money to those online fitness con artists instead,” he stated plainly.

Still not seeming overly convinced, Jay nodded. “Okay. We’ll try this your way…”

“So, have you got much planned for your week off?” Matt asked Jay a good few weeks later. He’d found that he didn’t struggle with small talk as much with Jay as he did some of his other clients. They seemed to share the same sense of humour and had successfully recommended more than one decent TV show to each other in the past.

“I’m going to a wedding,” Jay answered, sitting himself back ready to lift.

“A wedding, huh?” Matt asked, loading on the weights ready. “That’s a great place to meet girls,” he said, finding it bizarre that Jay was still single after all this time.

“Not a chance!” Jay chuckled, lifting his hands up to grab the bar. “I told you, I’m done with all that.”

“Whatever you say!” Matt chuckled back; his eyes catching sight of Jay’s stomach as the guy’s t-shirt rose, ready for the lift. He could tell that the bulking diet was well underway, with a padded thickness around Jay’s middle, bulging to the sides to form what many might consider the beginnings of love handles.

Jay lifted like never before. After one set he insisted that Matt make the bar even heavier again; grunting with the extreme effort it took.

“You did it!” Matt marvelled, finally setting the bar back minutes later. “I can’t get over how quickly you’re progressing now.”

Jay sat up, spreading his legs wide and owning the space he was in. It was a feeling Matt knew all too well: the sense of power and size after lifting more than ever before. “This bulking is really working, isn’t it?” Jay smiled.

“It is!” Jay nodded, trying to mask his surprise at just how much more noticeable Jay’s extra thickness was around his waist when he sat up like this. There was no way the guy was going to stick out the full bulking period; the boy seemed genetically predisposed to carry a tight little paunch at this size. Already Matt could sense the cut was on the horizon.

Once again, Matt’s predictions fell flat on their face. As more weeks went by, Jay was very quickly becoming one of Matt’s strongest clients. However, it was all coming at quite a cost to the guy’s naturally athletic physique. Built around a solid core, Jay’s chunky middle was rounded and significantly paunch-like in appearance, despite being somewhat muted by the large chest and muscular shoulders that had grown alongside it. If Jay had been going for that muscular V-shaped back, he had fallen far short of the mark. His stout tummy had swelled out his love handles to a size that could not be hidden by pretty much any of the t-shirts that he wore in the gym. Matt had even seen the guy out and about upon occasion, feeling shocked at just how thick and overfed he actually looked; especially with that meaty swagger he had about him, artificially pushing out his arms to increase his width.

“And, we’ll finish with twenty minutes on the treadmill,” Matt declared during their next session, waiting for the exhausted guy to sluggishly pick himself up off the weight machine.

“The treadmill?” Jay asked, as if Matt had been joking. “I’m not paying for you to watch me on the treadmill for twenty minutes,” he laughed.

“You do realise that we’re going to be putting a lot more cardio exercises into your routine from now on? We agreed to start cutting from next week, remember?”

Jay brushed him off, insisting that he could do another set on the machine he was currently on. The rest of the session continued in that manner until the time was depleted. Then a sweaty, beefy looking Jay simply lifted a protein shake to his mouth and began chugging.

“What’s in that thing?” Matt asked, noticing that it was far thicker than any of the recipes he had supplied to Jay. He took it from Jay’s limp hand and held it to his nose. “That’s so sweet!” he gasped, recoiling slightly. Swirling the remaining third in the bottle, Matt declared with absolute certainty that this was not part of the diet plan he had given Jay.

“I found the recipe online,” Jay shot back, snatching the shake back and draining it quickly. “I drink four of these daily. Your shake recipes were good, but I wasn’t packing on the muscle half as quickly as I am now.”

Matt winced. Jay had been heading in the wrong direction for weeks now; his muscle gains overshadowed by significant increases in fat. And Matt had been ignoring it all, pushing it to the back of his mind, denying it. “Have you got the recipe for me to look at?” he asked diplomatically.

Jay lazily held out his hand for Matt to pass him his cell phone from his bag. Then, after a couple of seconds, the webpage link came buzzing through to Matt.

“Um…” Matt mumbled, feeling his heart beating with worry. “Have you really been drinking these four times a day? Did you not think to check out the ingredients? All that sugar? Condensed milk?”

“I’m not an idiot!” Jay grumbled back, as Matt noticed the fat that was starting to build up under the handsome boy’s chin and into his cheeks. “These things promise results and they deliver. I’ve gained 25 lbs in the last two months alone!”

Matt took a step back, feeling that he had let Jay down more than any other client he had ever had. Yet, somewhere deep inside of him was a spark of attraction. Jay was starting to look genuinely fat. It was literally spreading across his entire body and had been doing so for weeks. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled guiltily. “I should have been more on top of your diet planner. This should never have happened.”

Jay seemed utterly perplexed by Matt’s remorse, but he agreed to pack up his stuff and head out to a local cafe for a more thorough debrief. They sat with two coffees at a small table near the front as Matt considered how best to insist that Jay quit the shakes as soon as possible.

Matt thought he had his speech all ready to go. He inhaled, ready to begin, when he suddenly noticed that Jay’s attention was elsewhere. A large, overweight guy had come in through the door, making Jay look across with interest. Matt followed his gaze and then cringed with regret, realising that the man was none other than his ex boyfriend, Chris. They had just made eye contact.

“I’m really sorry about this!” Matt blasted out, realising that his almost 400 lb ex was heading over to the table and there was nothing that he could do to stop him.

“Hello Matt,” the large bellied guy smiled. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded, not looking directly at him in the hopes that he would soon get the message and leave them be. “Nice to see you, Chris,” he lied.

“I gained a bit of weight recently,” Chris went on, patting his fat stomach. “I’d love to show you some time.”

“I’m actually with a client right now!” Matt hissed, losing patience. “When I said that things were over between us, I meant it.”

Chris looked down at them both, giving Jay in particular the most filthy of looks. Then he turned, deciding that the coffee house was no good after all and disappeared out of the door.

“Who was that?” Jay exclaimed the second the guy’s large form had disappeared beyond the windows.

“My ex,” Matt sighed, feeling frustrated that they should bump into each other here; whilst he was with a client no less! “We broke up about eight months ago.”

“You? And HIM?” Jay asked in disbelief, making it hard for Matt to tell whether it was the fact that he dated guys that most surprised Jay, or the sheer size of that ex-boyfriend. Either way, it became the focus of a long line of questions that Matt was finding difficult to deflect.

“I’ve made a decision,” Jay finally declared as they at last got off the topic of Matt’s love life. “I want to keep the bulk going for another six weeks.”

“I would very strongly advise against that,” Matt replied immediately.

“Six more weeks!” Jay laughed, as if he was making the simplest of alterations to their training plan. “It’s nothing! You need to learn to relax, buddy!”

Matt sighed. Perhaps because he was still reeling from coming face to face with Chris again, he did not feel especially inclined to argue. Jay was a client after all, and his wishes had to be respected - even if he was making a choice that Matt knew would make it significantly harder for the guy to get back in shape afterwards.

Just as Matt had anticipated, the weight that poured onto Jay’s body over the coming weeks was nothing more than pure fat. He’d find himself staring at it, having never felt so conflicted in his life. He was attracted by fat on a guy’s body, yes. But Jay was also a client who was confused by all of the bad advice out there and had caught himself up in a pattern of weight gain that was bloating his previously toned body. The sight of it, Matt had to admit, was nothing short of wildly arousing.

“He’s one of yours isn’t he?” asked one of the other trainers as Jay walked in for his training session wearing a t-shirt that was significantly too tight for his bloated torso. The guy braced himself against the wall to stretch out his calves, not realising how much his shirt had ridden up in the process and exposing a good three inches of his new, overfed tummy pushing itself over the waistband.

“Great work, Matt,” sneered Harry, the other male trainer, giving him a sarcastic slow clap as the three of them all watched Jay from a good distance.

Matt wanted to explain how he hadn’t been to blame; how Jay had found bad advice online instead, and was continuing to bulk against his advice. However, there was a strange thrill in not saying anything at all; something that Matt could not explain, even if he tried.

Next, Jay began squatting, spreading his chunky legs wide apart with the good posture that Matt had taught him, then lifting his body up and down. It was a simple move and not at all noteworthy but for the extreme tightness of the shorts he was wearing, pulling the waistband lower and lower at the back, revealing more and more of his butt crack with each dip; thanks in part to the similarly undersized underwear he had on underneath.

“Ugh!” laughed Harry.. “No one wants to see that!”

Matt looked around at the others in the gym. Jay was indeed getting looks of disapproval, and even disgust, for his scandalously tight clothing.

“You need to have a word,” the trainers all agreed. “He’s putting people off. It’s bad for business.”

Matt sighed. He knew what they were saying was right, but how could he even begin a conversation about it to a client who was paying him? Especially one he was starting to crush on in the most inappropriate of ways.

Despite Jay’s confidence on the weights, it was quite clear during that session that the guy wasn’t making as much progress with his lifting than he obviously thought he was. In fact, his lifting had peaked almost two months earlier and there had been minimal successes since then. What had changed was the amount of sweating Jay was doing; leaving the machines with a damp imprint of his overfed rear which Matt wiped down each time. But with the sweating, Jay’s clothing tightened around him even more. Matt didn’t need to see Jay on the scales, he was an expert on every part of his body, knowing exactly how it was altering because he could see it right there, before his very eyes. He had to breathe a little deeper when he felt the arousal getting too much for him. Jay’s butt was pure perfection; shaped by good genes and some decent early muscle gains, but now swelling and widening with the pounds and pounds of fat the guy was amassing.

Jay had been buzzing about his new apartment; finally allowing him to get out of parents’ place. It was going to make bulking a lot easier, he’d declared, making Matt feel uneasy about how much more extreme his client may take things.

“I’ve got boxes and boxes of stuff all over the place,” Jay complained. “I need a good sort out, really. It’s just so easy to dump it all in the closet and forget about it though.”

“That reminds me,” Matt jumped in, seeing an opening and seizing upon it. “I got an email the other day for a good discount on the online shop I use for clothes,” he began, having pondered over how best to approach the clothes issue for the entire hour of their session. “It can be quite hard to find stuff that fits right when you’re a bodybuilder.”

“Tell me about it!” nodded the chubby boy, not sensing the irony in his words in the slightest. “None of my clothes fit properly anymore.”

Matt nodded. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a good lead in to discuss Jay’s dissatisfaction with his clothing and how he shouldn’t really be feeling such tightness around his stomach when he was trying to pack on muscle. As it was, he could feel the eyes of the other trainers on the back of his head. The only task he had to complete was getting Jay out of those ridiculously tight gym clothes. “I use this brand,” he lied, showing Jay the webpage he had just got up on his cell phone. He knew that impressionable guys like Jay wanted to look like him; to have the same confidence and presence. If he recommended a clothes line to them, he was pretty certain they would take it. “With the progress you’ve been making, you could probably get away with the extra large, but the 2XL might suit your needs more if you’re still in the bulking phase. Fast delivery too.”

Jay nodded with interest and took every link that Matt sent him.

“I’ve spoken to him about the clothes,” Matt nodded, seeing the faces of expectation from the other trainers as he went back after the session ended.

“I know it’s tough having to tell a client that they’re getting too heavy,” Harry nodded. “But when he’s spilling out of his clothes like that, enough is enough. It’s time to say something.”

Matt nodded, knowing that Harry was exactly right. But that wasn’t what he had done, was it? He’d sent Jay off believing that he was making ‘progress’ and that he needed to wear clothes suitable for bodybuilders. The reality was anything but. Jay was chubby and out of shape. He’d not done any cardio in… it must have been months! He was a client who kept Matt awake at night with his feelings of guilt. He was letting the guy down, and this latest stunt was his worst sin of all.

It came as no surprise when Jay continued to be obsessed with bulking, even after the third and fourth deadlines for cutting came and went. The small mercy was that Jay was at least dressed better in the gym. With his new clothes, he was starting to look like any other broad, fat guy. His pretty face was still getting him the odd glance from some of the women, but the fatter body underneath was more than enough to ensure that it never progressed into anything more.

“You’ll never guess what I managed to get tickets for!” Jay blasted one Wednesday evening as he came in for his session.

“No way?” Matt grinned, knowing exactly where Jay was going with this. “You got them? But the concert has been sold out for months!”

“They were giving away tickets on the radio. I phoned up, answered some trivia questions live on air with someone else and… they’re mine!” he grinned, clearly delighted with himself.

“Congratulations!” Matt beamed. “I’m so jealous! You’re going to have such a great time!”

“No… WE’RE going to have such a great time,” Jay corrected him. “They asked me on the radio show who I wanted to take with me, and I told them your name. You’re the only person I know who is as obsessed with them as I am. No one else would appreciate it like you would.”

Matt’s initial reaction was to decline. There were many clients who tried to socialise outside of these sessions, but it was almost always unprofessional to do so. However, he had also desperately wanted to see this band since he was eight years old. Plus, he and Jay did genuinely seem to get on pretty well.”

“Can I give you some money for the ticket then?” he asked.

“No, I got them for free,” Jay shot back, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll drive us then,” Matt tried to compromise, knowing that the concert was a good couple of hours away. “I know where your new place is. I can pick you up at about 4pm on Saturday afternoon?”

Jay nodded, accepting the offer without hesitation. Then, for the rest of the week, Matt was telling all of his clients about the concert and how excited he was. He was amazed that not a single person had heard of the band or even recognised any of the tracks when he played a couple of samples for them on his cell phone. ‘What the hell was wrong with people?’ he thought to himself, highlighting in his mind just how much better he clicked with Jay than anyone else he worked with.

That Saturday, Matt didn’t really know who he was trying to impress as he slipped on his most expensive shirt and left the last three buttons undone to expose part of his strapping chest. He turned up at Jay’s building, expecting to head straight off, but was instead buzzed inside.

“Sorry!” Jay spluttered, opening the door to him, covered with only a small towel around his waist, fresh from the shower. “I had a big lunch and fell asleep! I only woke up ten minutes ago.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt nodded, trying to keep his eyes fixed on Jay’s face and not look down to explore his client’s beautifully chubby proportions. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Jay trotted back into his bedroom; his jiggly love handles bouncing with the quick pace he was going at. Matt simply took a deep breath and tried to control the arousal that he felt. He looked around the apartment, coming to one very obvious conclusion: This was the home of a fat guy. It was obvious; from the small armies of empty beer cans, to the carnage of emptied take out containers and pizza boxes. Discarded clothes dotted the space and Matt found himself meandering into the kitchen; his curiosity getting the better of him. He opened the refrigerator and peeked in all of the cupboards as quietly as he possibly could. What he found was far worse than he ever would have imagined: cakes, candy, cookies and several containers of those disastrous protein shakes… Jay had the lot, and then some. The guy was eating like a pig and putting on weight at a frankly alarming rate. Matt tried to breathe deeply again, but this time, the blood rushing towards his groin seemed determined to give him a full on erection.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Jay smiled moments later, coming out in a shirt that was far too small for his stout little gut. He opened the refrigerator and downed one of his shakes, as was his usual routine at this time. Once again, Matt had to look away. Then, as the last of it drained, Jay lifted his arms and pumped his biceps, now covered in a good layer of pure fat.

The conversation flowed well in the car as the pair listened to a few of the band’s old albums and talked at length about their shared interests.

“If we’ve still got twenty minutes before we need to go in, I’m going to find some food,” Jay declared once they had parked up. He walked slightly ahead as Matt tried to avert his eyes away from the guy’s wide, overfed glutes, barely contained in his overly tight pants. “I absolutely love bulking,” he declared a few minutes later, holding a giant burger in both hands and raising it part way to his mouth. Then, like a genuine glutton, he dropped his head over it and began feasting with his large shoulders hunched forwards.

Matt genuinely did try to enjoy the concert, but he was conscious of trying to hold back an erection the entire time. He wondered why his brain had to be wired up this way. Why couldn’t he just enjoy the music without getting turned on by the significantly chubby guy he had come here with? He’d had to sit for significant periods of the concert with his hands resting over his crotch as Jay danced beside him, arms up in the air and his rounded tummy popping out. It was so humid in there, making Jay glow with a beautiful fat-boy sweat and ensuring that his clothes plastered themselves to his thick body even more than they already were doing.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Jay smiled the moment the lights came up. “How would you like to go backstage?”

Matt couldn’t believe it as he was shaking hands with his idols and chatting away with other fans backstage only minutes later. It truly was an extraordinary night.

“So, how do you guys know each other?” the lead singer asked as he came up to them both at the bar.

“Matt’s my personal trainer,” Jay answered, downing his beer into his bloated belly.

“I can see you’ve got your work cut out for you,” the singer whispered to Matt, tapping him on his strong back in sympathy.

“I’m in the best shape of my life,” Matt went on, clearly a little tipsy. He put his beer down and reached into his tight pocket to pull out his cell phone. “This is me, before I started training,” he declared, passing the singer a picture of him from just under eleven months ago: slim, handsome, athletic.

“And this is you… ‘before’ you started training?” the guy asked, ensuring that he wasn’t misunderstanding.

Jay nodded enthusiastically, raising his chubby arms to flex and simultaneously letting his chubby belly fall out for the umpteenth time that evening.

“Right,” the singer nodded, confused and surprised; possibly wondering if Jay was making some sort of joke. He slapped Matt on the back once more, then headed off to speak to some others.

When Jay asked to stop off for more food on the way back, Matt didn’t feel that he really had the right to refuse him after the night they had had together. However, it was yet another torturous exercise, having to sit next to Jay as he was gorging his fat body on more fries and burgers in the passenger seat. The sounds of his greedy chewing and swallowing were turning on an already stimulated sex drive to even greater extremes.

“I thought he might have been flirting with you,” Jay explained as they discussed their encounter with the lead singer. “The way he kept on tapping you on the back like that.”

“That wasn’t what that was about,” Matt answered simply as he tried to control the boner he was getting, listening to Jay sucking air as he reached the end of his gigantic milkshake.

“You must have people flirting with you all the time, the shape you’re in,” Jay continued, stuffing the last of the fries into his mouth.

Matt took a breath in, wondering how to answer something like that. The answer was yes; he certainly did get a lot of attention from both guys and girls. But, as was being made strikingly clear to him that evening, the types of people he found attractive himself were often quite far from what most would expect.

“You don’t talk much about this sort of stuff, do you?” Jay asked him next after a pause.

“Neither do you,” Matt shot back.

“I’m just out of a long term relationship,” Jay replied grandly.

“Over a year ago!” Matt laughed. “In that case, I can use the same excuse.”

“You mean that huge guy we met in the coffee house that time? You were really into him?”

“I was in love with him, yes,” Matt replied, feeling that the conversation was getting a little too close to the bone now.

“How did he get that big? Was he always fat? Or did he just put on weight as an adult?” Jay pressed on obliviously.

“Combination of both, I expect,” Matt shrugged, trying to think of how to shift the conversation away from his ex.

“Do you think I could ever get as big as he is?” Jay asked.

Matt looked across at Jay in confusion. “Chris wasn’t a weight lifter, y’know?” he stated plainly. “He was probably as weak as a kitten. He was just… very overweight.”

“I just remember him being large,” Jay shrugged. “Guys like that always make me feel a little jealous.”

“There aren’t many people who would be jealous of Chris’ body type,” Matt chuckled, assuming that Jay was making fun.

“I think, if I kept up my protein shakes, I’d have a chance at getting to his sort of size,” Jay pondered aloud.

“I have no doubt that you would,” Matt nodded. “But it wouldn’t be lean muscle, I can promise you that.”

“Do you think it would suit me?” Jay asked playfully back.

Now Matt felt entirely on the backfoot. There was no way to answer the question without incriminating himself somehow. “I guess so,” he mumbled vaguely.

“So, do you think I should give up weight lifting then?” the guy immediately replied..

“I didn’t say that,” Matt countered.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. I’ve had a lot more success gaining weight and getting big in other ways, rather than muscle. Maybe I should just focus on that?”

“You know exactly what I’d say to that. I’m a personal trainer!” Matt reminded him. “Of course you’re not supposed to give up weight training and just let yourself get fat.”

“You can be such a square sometimes,” Jay laughed. “You’re so caught up with your diet plans, your nutrition goals and research papers on exercise schedules. You forget that most people don’t care about any of that stuff. It’s all about feeling good in your own body.”

The last fifteen minutes of the journey went by a little smoother, with the conversation naturally evolving into something lighter.

“Want to come in and grab those recipe books you lent me?” Jay asked as they parked up outside his building.

Thinking about another of his clients, Matt nodded keenly. It was more than obvious that Jay had little interest in any of the lean meals in them, so why not pass them on? He followed the guy up the stairs, allowing his brain to fantasise about taking the chubby guy straight into his bedroom. Now that he knew he would be home in twenty minutes and able to release all the pent-up sexual frustration from his evening with Jay, he somehow felt more able to embrace it; gazing with lust at those giant glutes, like round globes of fat, pressed tightly into Jay’s pants as he walked up the stairs ahead of him.

“They’ll be in my closet somewhere,” Jay explained, leading Matt into his bedroom. Inside here, the mess of take out containers continued, making it clear that Jay did just as much of his eating in bed, as he did anywhere else in the apartment. He reached over a pile of boxes and leaned into this closet, presenting Matt with a full view of his wide rear. Matt simply stared at it, swooning.

Jay had to lean in more and more, too lazy to move the boxed out of the way, and grunting from the effort. Matt told him not to worry; that he could get them some other time, but still Jay persevered, leaning even more of his weight onto the boxes at the front. Then, in a split second, they gave way underneath him, sending Jay falling head first into the closet, his legs up in the air.

Matt grabbed at him in a swift rescue, lifting him up and out by pulling him by his waistband and trying to reach his arm in to hold Jay just above his waist. He was a very heavy boy indeed, and not easy to shift, but eventually he came, looking significantly worse for wear. The most stressed buttons on his shirt had popped clean off and his pants had ripped as Matt had tried to pull him up from behind.

“Sorry about that,” Matt mumbled, seeing what a state Jay now looked in his torn clothes. He’d had to pull him at a strange angle to get him back upright and, although he hoped it wasn’t the case, there was a possibility that Jay might have felt the erection in his pants as he was put back on his feet.

Jay flattened his hair and shuffled over to his mirror. His fingers explored the ripped buttons and torn material. There was his little fat belly popping out like never before; his significant fat gains never looking more obvious. The hallmarks of actual obesity starting to shine through.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Matt asked, wondering why Jay was so stunned; his nervousness increasing by the second.

“If I asked you to stay tonight, would you?” Jay asked simply.

“Why do you want me to stay?” Matt asked. “Do you think you’ve hurt yourself?”

Jay did not answer, but simply unbuttoned only the remaining buttons of his shirt and let the material fall to the floor. “Stay,” he repeated, letting Matt’s gaze fall in its entirety upon his bloated, fattened body. “I can tell that you’d like to.”

Matt allowed himself to enjoy the sight. His fingers twitched at his side, desperate to explore and touch. “Do you mean that?” he asked, no longer hiding his interest.

Jay nodded, grabbing a wedge of his own fat. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only person who gets a boner over this stuff.”

Immediately, Matt pulled Jay into a deeply passionate kiss. Their hands began to explore each other and they soon fell, entirely naked onto the unmade bed. Finally, the fizzing sexual tension that had been torturing Matt all night was set free; the fireworks still to come.

Matt woke the next morning as the light began pouring in through Jay’s window. He turned, seeing the bloated boy still resting deeply. Despite his good looks, this wasn’t the sort of thing that Matt ever did. He could count on a single hand how many guys he had slept with in the past, and he could explain how each one of them had eventually ended up breaking his heart.

Jay stirred as Matt made an attempt to get out of bed. “Morning,” he called out. “What a wild night, huh?”

Matt smiled. “Pretty wild, yeah!” he nodded.

“Did I do it okay?” Jay asked sweetly. “I’ve never tried to give a blow job before.”

“You did great!” Matt nodded. “Amazing, in fact,” he added, remembering how quickly they had both climaxed last night. He’d worked on Jay first and then the sweet guy worked his mouth on Matt until he came in less than a minute.

“Could you go and get me my shake out of the refrigerator?” Jay asked next, sitting up. “I forgot to have my last one when we got back yesterday, so I’ll have to make up for it this morning. In fact, bring me two,” he reconsidered. “I’ll get it down now.”

Matt hesitated for a moment. He knew that, officially, as Jay’s trainer, he wasn't supposed to approve of these shakes. Still, he was in Jay’s apartment, having just spent the night, so he could hardly start lecturing him now.

Still in a state of undress, Matt slipped out of the room and tiptoed over the mess that was littering the living space. He opened the fridge and felt a pang of arousal as he remembered just how many Jay had prepared for himself.

“Thanks,” Jay smiled, getting back from the bathroom as Matt returned. “I can still feel that burger from last night,” he chuckled, rubbing the shelf of stomach fat, before taking a deep deep breath chugging one of the shakes.

Matt’s penis, which hadn’t been flaccid since the moment he woke up next to Jay, began to pump itself harder upon watching Jay drink. He found it embarrassing how quickly his arousal responded to stuff like this and he moved his hand to cover it up; not wanting Jay to see and realise what a freak he was. However, as he looked at the bedsheets, he could see that the same thing was happening to Jay as well, with his own hardness pushing the material upwards, throbbing up and down like a heartbeat.

Taking himself off to the bathroom, Matt calmed himself down. He was so into Jay, he couldn’t ruin it, like last time. When he returned, both shakes were emptied and Jay was up, checking his body out in the mirror; that old jock physique of his destroyed and replaced with the chubby, overfed form there was today. Gone was the youthful pertness of his glutes, now so wide and juicy. All the added fat had swollen his chest up so considerably, with his new, pointed nipples looking alert and sharp as they started to droop a little onto the broad, shockingly ball-like stomach that completely dominated the boy’s appearance.

Matt went over and kissed the chub sweetly, hoping that Jay wouldn’t feel differently now the morning had arrived. Afterwards, he took the guy’s hand and then gently led him back to bed; making love to him slowly and passionately this time; wanting to show Jay just how much he could adore and cherish him, if he would only give him the chance.

When Jay turned up for their training session the next day, there was an air of mischief about him. The pair of them were chuckling and smiling, knowing exactly what they had got up to at the weekend and excited to be in each other’s company again. Now when Matt had to touch him, supporting his arms in a certain way, or correcting his posture, it sent waves of pleasure through his entire body. If he tried to get tough with Jay to get him to build up a sweat, the guy would come back with something flirtatious or rude, making Matt laugh.

“What time do you finish tonight?” Jay asked after a particularly arousing session where Jay had actually done very little indeed.

“Ten,” Matt replied, wincing at how late it was going to be.

“That’s okay,” Jay smiled excitedly. “Want to stay over again?”

Matt looked around, trying to hold himself back from wanting to kiss Jay right there and then; the cutest, chubbiest guy currently at the gym that moment. He knew how unprofessional it was to be dating his client. In some ways, it was like playing with fire; both terrifying and thrilling. “Want me to bring anything over?” he asked politely, knowing how low Jay was getting on supplies like lubricant and condoms after the weekend.

“You could pick me up some doughnuts,” Jay happily agreed.

“Oh, right. Okay,” Matt mumbled in surprise. That hadn’t been what he had meant at all. “Any particular kind?” he offered, not wanting to spoil the mood by declining.

“Just the twelve pack that you can get at the late night convenience place at the end of my street,” Jay answered him, clearly wanting to kiss him goodbye, but knowing that he couldn’t here.

Slapping the twelve pack of doughnuts on the counter a while later, Matt couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. Here he was getting a spark of arousal at buying all this sugar and fat for his chubby lover. What would people say if they knew? He strolled over to Jay’s place and was buzzed in, finding the apartment door open as he made it up the stairs.

Seeing his chubby boy sprawled out on the couch, Matt took off his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind him before he marched straight over to kiss his new lover. Still dressed in his gym clothes, Jay’s stomach was falling out of his t-shirt as he twisted his head for the kiss. Two more empty flasks of shake sat on the floor beside the couch, alongside another pizza box that Jay must have picked up right after his workout.

Matt had slipped his hand onto Jay’s tummy as he went back for another kiss. How could he tell him off for his bad diet when he looked so adorable right now?

“Did you get my doughnuts?” Jay asked.

Matt nodded, getting up to collect them and feeling surprised at how eagerly Jay took them from him.

“Amazing! You got the cream filled ones!” Jay cheered, ripping the box open and pushing a doughnut straight in his mouth.

Matt hadn’t realised that there were different types, having just bought the first pack he’d found in the store, but he was pleased that it was giving Jay so much pleasure. He gazed with adoration as he ate, feeling himself falling hard for the guy. He sat there, on the floor, below the couch, rubbing Jay’s leg, observing it all. Doughnut number 5, 6 and 7 disappeared. Afterwards, Matt slipped in beside him, kissing his head from behind and holding the overfed boy tenderly. Whilst he couldn’t wait to sleep with Jay again, these tender moments were something he never wanted to rush.

“Did anyone notice that we were flirting at the gym? Jay asked as they lay tenderly together later on. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“That’s not something I want you to worry about,” Matt whispered into his ear. “I can handle any fallout if it comes to that.”

“I’ve actually wanted to quit weight training for quite some time. I just didn’t know how to tell you properly. Then our little relationship wouldn’t be so much of an issue.”

“So, we’re in a relationship, huh?” Matt teased, beaming with pride and hugging his boyfriend tightly from behind. “I don’t want you to give it up just for me, though,” he added regretfully.

“You’re the only reason I stuck it out so long,” Jay chuckled. “The truth is, I’m getting a lot more of a buzz out of developing my mass in ways that aren’t strength training related.”

Matt lifted his head as he lay in bed and looked down at the fat filled stomach on Jay; his hardness immediately throbbed into the guy’s doughy glutes. He wished he could control it; still wanting to conceal the fact that he found the idea of Jay becoming even more overweight so wildly erotic. He realised that as much as he would try to reason with Jay about his overeating and general laziness, his dick would always be there, trying to undermine his words of caution.

Although Jay didn’t acknowledge it with his words, he reached across for yet another doughnut, even though he had previously said he was stuffed. Was that for Matt’s benefit? Was he doing it to turn him on? Perhaps it was yet another unintended error of Matt’s that was dragging Jay even further down this crazy rabbit hole.

Jay’s gains began to speed up quite dramatically within the first six months of their relationship; Matt’s guilt increasing with every pound. There were times when he should have stepped in to stop Jay pushing his appetite too hard. When he discovered Jay buying in clothes for himself that were far too large, he could have asked why. He knew so much about nutrition and what it all was doing to Jay’s body, bloating it more and more beyond recognition. He’d crossed 300lbs. That should have been a moment for them both to take stock and reevaluate things; but the arousal of it all; the way Jay seemed to not care in the slightest about how people were seeing him these days; that confidence; the love that Matt felt for him. It all culminated to ensure the personal trainer kept quiet and allowed it to continue.

Jay’s body was stunning. There wasn’t a single spot where the fat hadn’t done its work, softening and swelling him up. With the lack of weight training, Jay’s chest had succumbed to the blubber, now filling up under his armpits and inflating his arms. All the while, his gut and wide butt quietly continued to grow ever more; becoming more extreme with each passing day.

Matt couldn’t say not to Jay on his birthday. He’d asked him again and again what he wanted to do for it: a day trip, a weekend hotel stay, any gift he wanted. But all Jay had insisted on was a take-out meal in front of the TV.

“This ice cream is definitely the best,” Jay smiled, scooping out from the tub with his spoon. “I can’t believe you found some!”

“Well, you’re worth it,” Matt smiled. “I even found some of those special flavour doughnuts that you tried a few months ago. So you’ve got something to enjoy tomorrow as well.”

“Tomorrow?” Jay chuckled sceptically. “I’ll be having those bad boys tonight! It is my birthday after all!”

Matt laughed and nodded. There was no arguing with that logic.

“In fact,” Jay continued. “I’d like you to be the one to feed them to me.”

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Matt pretended to spill his glass of water and made a fuss, grabbing a towel from the kitchen.

“Why do you always do that?” Jay asked, obviously downbeat. “You’ve got to know that I love the idea of you feeding me. We both clearly get off on how fat I’m getting. Everyone thinks you’re a feeder now. They saw you with your ex; they’ve seen me getting over 350lbs. You’ve heard them whispering it behind your back. So why won’t you ever feed me?”

Matt tried to brush the comments off. It wasn’t the right time; not on Jay’s birthday. However, his refusal to answer only seemed to make things worse. “Okay,” he finally surrendered. “I’m not being coy,” he admitted. “I… I just…” he stumbled. “It was when I was dating Chris.”

“The four hundred pound guy you were with before me?” Jay asked, with only a mild hint of jealousy.

“Chris and I didn’t meet at a club like I told everyone. We actually met on a kink website for feeders and gainers.”

“How did I not know this?” Jay laughed, realising that his shy boyfriend had been holding out on him the entire time. “So you used to feed Chris to make him gain weight?”

Matt nodded. “It was great. It felt amazing. I fell ridiculously in love with the guy. He put on about 40lbs in the time we were together.”

“You dark horse!” Jay joked, barely containing his delight.

“But it just wrecked things in the end. We both wanted him bigger and fatter. We spoke about it endlessly. But when Chris was in a mood with me for something, he used to blame only me for making him fat. He said it was all my fault he was so unhappy. I spent so much of my time trying to make him smile and the second something pissed him off, he’d throw it all back in my face.”

“That’s not very nice,” Jay agreed, pleased to finally learn how Matt’s previous relationship had ended.

“Then there was one day when Chris’ car broke down. He came over in such a bad mood and started taking it all out on me. He ended up getting drunk and heading out with his friends. He made out to them all that I was fattening him secretly. He even messaged my parents to say the same thing.”

“Shit!” Jay cringed for him, now realising why Matt’s parents had never been especially warm with him.

“Chris apologised, of course. But it was too late. Fake news like that travels like wildfire. Even though I knew I was always going to be attracted to bigger guys, I always promised myself, I wouldn’t ever get caught up in a situation like that again. Not if it risked making someone as special as you so unhappy.”

Jay nodded, completely understanding. “It makes sense,” he nodded in agreement. “But you’re not to blame for how I’m turning out. I’m not Chris, and I never have been.”

“I get that, but..” Matt tried to counter.

“No, I mean it. I’ve wanted to be a fat boy for as long as I can remember. I felt so ashamed about it. I thought a muscle gain might quench that thirst, but it didn’t. There is no part of me that is doing this just for your pleasure,” he stated sincerely. “So stop with the guilt.”

Matt nodded, feeling that he had been thoroughly put in his place. This wasn’t all about him. This was Jay’s journey.

“But I think you also know how huge I want to get. I know you’ve spotted some of the clothes I’ve been buying recently,” Jay smiled.

“Yeah, those sweatpants you bought the other day…” Matt nodded knowingly. “They were something else!”

Jay beamed with pride. “Aren’t they just!” he chuckled. “So why don’t you tell me, seriously,” he insisted. “How do you really feel about me getting so fat that I could actually wear pants like that?”

Matt considered his answer, knowing how upfront and honest they were both trying to be that evening. “Excited,” he replied simply. “Really turned on by it.”

“So, would you be willing to help me with getting there?” Jay asked.

Matt knew what Jay was asking of him and he sighed at the hard choice he was having to make. “I really want to,” he admitted, rubbing Jay’s rounded gut and admiring the tight softness. “It’s been so difficult trying to hold myself back sometimes.”

“Then stop,” Jay shrugged. “You know that I’m doing this, with or without your help.”

The two men looked at each other with true honesty in their eyes. “Okay,” Matt smiled at last. “Okay, I’ll.. try.”

Jay beamed brightly and slouched his fat body into the tortured couch, placing his limp hands at his side and opening his mouth, waiting. “No time like the present. It is my birthday, after all!”

Matt, who had not been anticipating such an immediate start, fumbled slightly, not knowing what to do as he picked up a doughnut from the table. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked nervously.

Jay nodded, raising his eyebrows with excitement, but did not close his mouth as the doughnut was dangled so wonderfully close to his face.

With the doughnut in his hand, Matt pressed it into Jay’s greedy mouth. The boy moaned in appreciation and took as large a bite as he could. The sound was instantly arousing. Already he felt the sugar uncomfortably sticking to his fingers. By the time the third bite came along, he knew the remaining piece was too big, but pushed it into Jay’s mouth anyway; making the fat boy’s cheeks swell with fattening dough and sugar. Yet, still the glutton gorged, sucking the sugar off Matt’s fingers as soon as he possibly could. This was hot!

Jay’s hand reached towards the hunk’s crotch, feeling the arousal his part in the feeding had given him. Then he smirked gleefully. There was no hiding anything now as they both undressed entirely. “Feed me another,” he demanded.

Matt did as he was told, picking up more confidence with each fresh doughnut he pushed into the horny boy’s mouth. Seeing sugar glistening on the glutton’s cheeks, the arousal in his eyes; the pleasure he took from drawing this side of Matt out.

“Am I a good piggy?” Jay asked teasingly,sucking on Matt’s hardness as the doughnuts were all finished at last.

Moaning softly, feeling his dick getting sticky from the fat guy’s sugary saliva, Matt nodded in agreement. Had Jay really just referred to himself as a ‘piggy’?

“Say it then,” Jay demanded, letting his hand take over for the few seconds he needed his mouth to talk. “Tell me what a good, fattening pig I am.”

Matt’s brain was foggy with lust. He could tell that Jay was already holding back, not allowing him to climax just yet. “You’re a good piggy,” he heard himself saying, worrying that he could ejaculate the moment he felt the words leaving his mouth. “And I do want you get fatter,” he admitted. “I always have.”

“Prove it then,” Jay suddenly demanded, slipping his mouth and hands away from Matt’s hardness; cutting him off in an instant.

“How?” Matt asked, having been so close to finishing before this abrupt stop.

“The refrigerator,” Jay simply replied; smirking in triumph.

Matt knew in an instant what he needed to do. He headed straight over and collected Jay’s calorie shake from the cool refrigerator and held it in his hands, about to become the world’s biggest hypocrite after everything he had said about these things.

“What do you want me to do?” asked a super horny birthday boy, laying back again and letting the fat splay into the seat once more.

“I want you to drink it,” Matt replied, already unscrewing the lid.

“What’s it going to do to me?” Jay whispered next, savouring the kinky moment between them both.

“It’s going to make you fatter,” Matt smiled back, so happy to be drawn into the game; so happy that he was doing this at last.

Matt stepped closer to the fat boy and then sat beside him, using his free hand to jiggle the immense softness that had enveloped Jay’s torso, whilst kissing him deeply. Then, just as Jay was really getting into it, he lifted his free hand up and gently rocked the boy’s head backwards so that his mouth pointed towards the ceiling, in position for the pouring.

“Are you ready, Piggy?” Matt asked, finally unleashing his true self. “It’s time to grow for me…”

Jay’s eyes were dancing with excitement as they drifted from his feeder’s gaze and up towards the ominously held jug of calorie shake looming above his head. Then, just like that, his mouth opened wider than Matt had ever seen it go before.

Matt couldn’t put his finger on when exactly he came, but he knew he hadn’t been done pouring. His fat boy had slipped his pudgy, sweaty hand onto his hardness and tugged at it; pushed it right into his giant, jiggling stomach, until Matt could stand it no longer. His orgasm had been years in the making and he moaned louder than any of his former lovers had ever heard him.

A new beast had just been unleashed.

#gainer fiction #gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeedee #gainerstories #gainer fic #gainerfic #gayfeeder #gainer story #gainer stories

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inmyglowupera · 6 months ago

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Mindset shift #2: Plateaus are part of the process and key to the success of longterm weight loss.

Plateaus are not roadblocks—they’re milestones. They show that your body is adjusting to the progress you’ve made so far. Instead of seeing them as failures, view it as a reward for your hard work. As your body giving you a break so you can recharge and reevaluate.

Why Are Plateaus Important to Your Weight Loss Journey?

When you lose weight, your body needs time to recalibrate:

• Metabolism: Plateaus prevent metabolic adaptation, where your body slows down calorie-burning to preserve energy.

• Hormonal Balance: Hormones like leptin (which regulates hunger) and cortisol (stress hormone) stabilize during plateaus, reducing stress on your body.

• Muscle Preservation: Slower weight loss during plateaus gives your body a chance to retain muscle mass.

What to Do During a Plateau:

1) Don’t Rush to Make Changes: Give your body time to adjust to recent weight loss before altering your diet or exercise routine. Sometimes, patience is the key to moving forward.

2) Focus on Restorative Acts: Prioritize sleep management and stress management, as both play a critical role in weight loss. Poor sleep and chronic stress can disrupt hormones like cortisol, which can hinder progress.

3) Celebrate Non-Scale Victories: Progress isn’t just about the number on the scale. Look for improvements in strength, stamina, mood, energy levels, or how your clothes fit.

4) Reflect and Reassess:

Use this time to observe your journey without judgment. Ask yourself:

• What has been working so far?

• What feels difficult, and how can I make it easier or more sustainable?

• Have I become too restrictive or too lenient?

• Are my diet and exercise routines still aligned with my goals and needs?

Plateaus are a chance to adjust and refine your habits to better suit your lifestyle.

5) Consider Upcycling Calories:

Upcycling calories involves alternating higher and lower calorie days to prevent your metabolism from adapting too much. For instance:

• Increase your calorie intake slightly on one day with nutrient-dense foods like healthy fats or complex carbs.

• Return to your usual calorie range on the following days.

This strategy can help reset your metabolism and push past a plateau.

6) Reassess Your Workouts:

Once you feel ready to adjust, start by varying your exercise routine:

• Incorporate new movements or activities to challenge different muscle groups.

• Ensure your workouts include strength training, which boosts metabolism.

• Avoid overtraining—intense workouts with insufficient recovery can increase cortisol, working against your weight loss goals.

7) Review Your Diet: Plateaus are a good time to take a closer look at your eating habits with curiosity and without judgment. Ask yourself:

• Are you eating enough proteins and fibres to help you feel full and well nourished? Did you eat enough healthy fats to ensure proper satiety?

• Are you eating more calorie-dense foods than you realize, such as cooking oils, granola, nuts, nut butters, cheese, or avocado?

• Be careful of low calorie foods. These items are often ultra-processed with artificial sweeteners. Sugar substitute can negatively impact your gut microbiome and insuline response—paradoxically causing you to gain weight. Focus on fresh whole foods and bake your own little treats, even of they are higher in calories they will be more satisfying.

• Have recent stressors, celebrations, holidays, or vacations led to more indulgences than usual?

• Are you underestimating portion sizes or the amount of food you’re eating?

If you feel comfortable and it won’t negatively impact your mental health, consider tracking your food intake for a couple of weeks. Focus on accuracy by weighing your food rather than using cups or spoons, especially for non-liquid items. Be gentle and non-judgemental. The goal is to understand not punish.

If tracking feels too overwhelming, focus instead on visual portion control (e.g., smaller plates, filling half your plate with veggies, or limiting high-calorie extras like dressings).

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jetii · 3 months ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-One: The Weight of Command

Chapter WC: 9,771

Chapter Tags/Warnings: it's a battle chapter what can i say

A/N: Welcome to part two! Much angst, fluff, smut and clone shenanigans ahead. Sadly no Rex in this part, but absence makes the heart grow fonder (and more desperate) and all that.

Mind the time skip from chapter 30, we're about 3? months in the future now.

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Nadiem, 20 BBY

No matter how many battlefields you walk away from, no matter how many lives you save, no matter how much glory you win for the Republic, the weight of your vision still rests heavy upon your shoulders.

No matter how much you try to silence the echo of Rex’s voice calling you back or the memory of his blaster pressed against your chest, it still lingers, like an unseen shadow at the edge of your sight. You had chosen to turn away from the darkness in that moment, a decision you've made time and time again, but it's a choice you've wondered if you would continue to have the strength to make again.

After all, every Jedi is tested at some point, and each must choose whether to give into their anger or their fear. Every Jedi must conquer the temptation to reach for the power that comes from the Dark Side in order to embrace the Light. Every Jedi struggles to understand the will of the Force and the part they are meant to play.

But not every Jedi has seen their own death.

You know what awaits you in the dark, and the temptation is always there, a constant nagging voice in the back of your mind, a whisper on the wind, a promise of power, of strength, of safety. You've learned to ignore it, but you can't ignore the burden of the knowledge, the weight of the responsibility. You can't ignore the certainty that, eventually, you will be faced with a choice, and that choice will define who you are, who you were always meant to be.

It's a terrible thing, knowing that you will never be able to save everyone. But you haven't stopped trying anyway.

In the months since you've left Coruscant and Rex behind, the 419th has been inundated with missions, battles, skirmishes. It seems as if there's always another fight waiting around the corner, and you have a sneaking suspicion that the Council is hoping to distract you, or perhaps even exhaust you. But there's no denying that the galaxy is changing, and the threat of the Separatists is ever present.

It's easy to lose track of time, the days and weeks blending together into a blur of movement, a cycle of action and reaction. It's easy to lose track of yourself.

And through it all, you've been training your men. Teaching them.

You've drilled them relentlessly, not just in standard combat, but in one very specific skill. Nearly every morning begins with sparring exercises, teaching them how to counter a lightsaber, resist Force-assisted strikes, and fight without relying on the idea that a Jedi would always be their protector. After all, not all Jedi are as noble as Obi-Wan. Not all Jedi will be there to save them.

Some might even have their backs turned.

The irony isn't lost on you.

You've also spent much of your time on the field, honing their skills, encouraging their growth, and learning their strengths and weaknesses. You've seen their potential, and you've worked tirelessly to bring it out, to shape it, mold it. You've pushed them to their limit, and they've surpassed every expectation, refusing to fall. Refusing to give up.

And most importantly, refusing to let you go.

They follow your lead, no matter where you go. No matter what you do. No matter what the mission is, no matter the risks, no matter the danger. They're always by your side, and they always have your back. And it helps.

The more time you spend with Booker and the men, the more at ease you feel, the less afraid, the less lonely. They've become your family, and their support is invaluable.

Without them, you know you wouldn't have been able to make it this far. Without them, you'd be lost.

It's the only reason why you're here now.

The view from your perch on the lone tree among miles of open fields is beautiful, the rolling hills and valleys stretching out before you. The sky is a vibrant mix of blue and pink, the sun just beginning to rise. In the distance, you can see the outlines of a nearby town, sunlight warming the small hovels and cobblestone streets.

The wind is blowing softly, rustling the leaves above, and the smell of fresh rain hangs in the air, filling your lungs. It's peaceful, quiet, and you can't help but appreciate the calm. But you know better than most that the peace never lasts. It's a fleeting thing, a fragile illusion, and the war will soon find its way here. It always does.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" you murmur, not turning your gaze from the landscape. "I could sit here all day."

Snap lowers his binocs from his visor and looks down at you. He sways dangerously on the branch above as he shifts his weight before his hand comes down to steady himself. The kama attached to his belt, covered in gold swirls and lines that remind you of a sun's rays, flaps in the breeze.

"Not the best spot for a nap, if I'm being honest," he quips, adjusting his position, the branch creaking ominously beneath him. A bird takes flight in alarm, and he sighs. "And if you ask me, the sun's a little too bright. Hard to get a good look at things."

"Careful, Snap. Sounds like Wise is rubbing off on you," you retort, shooting him a smirk. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were becoming a bit of a grouch."

"If that isn't the quacta calling the stifling slimy," he mutters, and the branch creaks again.

You snort and shake your head, shifting your attention to the horizon. The smoke is beginning to dissipate, and the first rays of sunlight are peeking over the trees.

"I happen to like the sunlight. It's...refreshing."

"You're only saying that because you didn't have to run drills for two hours this morning," he mutters. He sighs and reaches for the binocs, bringing them back up to his visor. "So what's the plan? Do we wait here until the droids show up or what?"

"Patience, Captain. Patience," you reply. He gives you a look that translates through the helmet, and you laugh again, raising a hand in surrender. "I'm kidding. Mostly."

He lets out a huff and returns his attention to the binocs, scanning the area. You've been camped out on this ridge for hours, waiting for the Separatists to arrive. The village has already been cleared out, and the town hall is wired with explosives. All that's left is for the droids to show up. Then, it's game time.

"We'll give them an hour," you say, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. The scent of grass and flowers fills your nose, and you exhale slowly, allowing the Force to flow through you, reaching out and stretching. You can feel the faintest whispers of the enemy, the echoes of their approach. "Then we'll make our move."

Snap grunts, and the branches above rustle as he adjusts his position. He's impatient, and you can't blame him. The wait is maddening, but you can't afford to jump the gun again.

The last time you rushed the Separatists, things didn't end well. There were heavy casualties, and the 419th lost a lot of men. It was a hard lesson, but it was an important lesson, and you've taken it to heart.

You will be patient. You will be smart. And most importantly, you will protect your men.

"Hey, General," Snap finally says, his voice low. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always," you reply, your eyes still closed, the Force guiding your senses.

You can feel the presence of the 419th tucked in the rolling hills behind you, the soldiers spread out along the perimeter, watching, waiting. Elsewhere on the planet, Master Luminara and her Padawan are preparing their own forces for an attack. If all goes according to plan, the droid army will be trapped between the two forces, unable to retreat or escape.

"It's about the training."

Your mouth twists. You've been expecting this conversation for a while now, and you're almost impressed that he managed to hold out this long. You're certain that the others have been whispering amongst themselves, wondering if they should bring it up. But Snap has always been the brave sort, and it seems that bravery extends to speaking his mind.

"I'm surprised it took you so long," you quip, and his breath catches, the branch creaking again.

"I..." he trails off, and the hesitation is thick, almost tangible. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "The men are...we're worried. About you."

Your connection to the Force snaps shut, and you open your eyes, the image of the landscape blurring before settling. You take a moment to gather yourself, the familiar pang of guilt tugging at your heart.

"Is that so?" you reply, forcing the emotion from your voice.

"Well, yeah. Of course we are," he continues. He lowers the binocs and looks down at you. "Look, I'm not trying to question your methods or anything. And I'm sure the Council has a good reason for doing whatever they're doing, but...we just don't understand why. We're fighting droids. Blasters will do the job just fine."

You let out a heavy sigh and shake your head, leaning forward and resting your forearms on your knees.

"Because the battle doesn't end the moment the droids drop," you reply, keeping your voice low. The wind is still blowing, and the last thing you need is for your words to carry back down to the camp. "The war is just beginning, and we can't afford to take any chances."

"With all due respect, General, that doesn't answer the question," he replies, his tone firm. "I don't know what kind of enemies we're facing, but I know how to fight, and I know how to win. And the men are capable of handling whatever comes at us."

"I'm not disputing that," you assure him. You keep your gaze fixed on the horizon, and you can't help but think of Rex. He would like it here. And he would be just as eager to charge into battle as the rest of them. "But this isn't about winning or losing. It's about surviving."

Snap falls silent, and the breeze picks up, ruffling your robes and tossing your hair. You close your eyes, reaching out once more, and the faint presence of the Separatist forces grows stronger, a steady trickle of droids flowing toward the village.

"I care about all of you," you continue, your voice strained. "And if the enemy ever wields the Force against you, I want you to have a chance to survive. To have a chance to fight back. I want you to have the tools to protect yourselves."

You open your eyes and look up at him, his expression hidden behind the visor. His shoulders are tense, his body stiff, and his hands clench and unclench at his sides. You can feel the emotions roiling beneath the surface, a storm of confusion and frustration.

You know it's selfish. You know it's foolish. But you can't help it. The idea of losing any of the men is unbearable, and the thought of losing Rex, the idea of him being forced to face the darkness within you, the idea of him having to kill you...it's a pain you can't even begin to comprehend.

You've already lost so much, and the future is a constant, looming threat, a shadow in the dark, a whisper on the wind. It's a burden that's always there, always lurking, and you can't shake the feeling that the worst is yet to come.

You will do everything in your power to prevent the future you've seen from coming to pass. You will not allow yourself to fall. You will not allow yourself to hurt him. Not again.

"General," Snap says, his voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to worry about that."

You can't help but huff a laugh, and you shake your head, your eyes stinging.

"But I do," you reply. You look away, unable to meet his gaze, and your fingers brush against the hilt of your lightsaber. "More than anything, I worry about that."

"General..."

Your comm beeps, and you raise a hand, cutting him off.

"We'll talk later," you promise. "For now, focus on the mission. Stay safe, and remember your orders. I want no heroics."

Snap hesitates for a moment, his hands flexing, and he sighs.

"Yes, sir."

You lift your vambrace up, and the holoimage of Master Luminara flickers to life. Her hands are clasped behind her back, her head tilted down, and her lips are pressed into a thin line. You immediately feel a sinking sensation in your gut.

"Master Luminara, I'm afraid you're a little early," you quip, trying to keep the anxiety from your voice. She doesn't respond, her expression unchanging, and you take a deep breath. "Okay, clearly, something's wrong. What is it?"

"We have a situation," she replies, her tone grim. She glances over her shoulder and turns back, a slight crease forming between her brows. "My scouts have reported movement to the north. A large group, and they appear to be heading in your direction."

You swallow and look up at Snap, who gives a nod. He's already moving, sliding from his perch and landing on the ground below. You watch as he hurries down the hill and back toward camp.

"How long until they arrive?" you ask.

"An hour, perhaps less," Luminara replies. Her frown deepens, and her hands clasp tighter. "But what troubles me is the makeup of their forces. They appear to be commando droids wielding blades. Cortosis blades."

"Fuck," you mutter, and her brow rises at the profanity. You sigh and shake your head. "Sorry, Master. It's just...I had a bad feeling about this."

Luminara lets out a small sigh and nods, the lines around her eyes softening.

"As did I," she murmurs, and she looks over her shoulder again before returning her attention to you. "The question is, what do we do now?"

You glance up at the sky, the first rays of sunlight piercing through the clouds.

"I'll take care of it," you say, looking back at her. Her expression shifts, concern etched on her face, and you raise a hand. "It's alright, Master. I have a plan."

"I do not doubt your capabilities," she replies, and the corners of her mouth curl upward. "However, I cannot help but notice that you tend to attract trouble."

"All the better for me to handle it," you say, smiling wryly. You're already moving, sliding down the hillside. "Don't wait for me. Attack on schedule."

"Very well," she says, and she reaches out, cutting the connection.

You pick up the pace, sprinting across the field, your boots kicking up the grass. The wind whips at your robes and sends your cloak billowing behind you. Your men are already moving, packing up the camp and waking the AT-TEs. Booker is barking orders, and the soldiers are falling into formation, their blasters at the ready.

"Booker!" you shout, and his helmet snaps up, his body tensing. He rushes over to meet you, his rifle in his hands, and the rest of the 419th follow suit. "I need a squad, and I need them now."

"What's going on?" he asks. He motions to the soldiers closest to him, and they break ranks, forming a loose semi-circle around the two of you. "Who am I shooting?"

"Cortosis blades," you reply. The color drains from his face, and he stiffens, his mouth falling open. "There's a detachment of commandos heading this way, and they're packing. Luminara’s scouts spotted them. We have less than an hour."

A ripple of tension passes through the men, a shift in stance, an adjustment of grips on rifles. No one speaks, but you don’t need the Force to feel their unease. Cortosis is rare, and the material is difficult to work with, fragile against most armor. But it can block a lightsaber, and it can kill a Jedi. It is, in effect, the greatest weapon a droid could wield against a Force-user.

Booker curses under his breath. "Great. That’s just great. So, what’s the play, General?"

You scan the gathered soldiers, your mind already calculating the odds, the risks, the potential. You could wait for the 419th. The droids won't arrive for at least an hour, and Luminara will likely send her own troops to assist, but it's not worth the risk. If the enemy is armed with cortosis, it means they're coming for you. And that puts everyone else in danger.

"I'm going ahead," you finally say, and Booker goes rigid. "You have your orders, and I trust you to carry them out."

"That's not gonna happen," he counters, and his grip on the rifle tightens, his jaw clenched. "You're not going out there alone. If the droids are really packing, you're gonna need backup."

Snap pushes his way through the group and steps forward, his shoulders squared.

"I'm coming with you," he declares. His voice is firm, resolute, and he lifts his chin. "And so are they."

He gestures to the rest of Maelstrom Company, and a chorus of agreements rings out, a show of support. Dash and Screwball take their place beside Snap, and the others follow, standing at attention.

"It's too dangerous," you argue, and Booker rolls his eyes, stepping closer.

"No, what's dangerous is sending a lone Jedi into battle against a group of commando droids wielding a rare metal known for cutting through Force shields and blocking lightsabers," he says, and his voice is quiet, his gaze hard. "So unless you're planning on telling me that all this training has been a waste of time, I suggest you let them help."

You look up at the soldiers, each wearing a fierce expression, a set jaw, a raised chin. They're not backing down, and neither is Booker. And the sight warms your heart as much as it fills you with dread.

"Well, I can't exactly argue with the entire company," you reply, and Snap lets out a snort. You shake your head and take a deep breath. "Fine. Snap, you’re with me. I need a fast, mobile team—no more than ten. We intercept before they reach the village. Cut them off in the ravine."

"Ravine’s tight quarters," Booker points out. "Could work in our favor… or trap you with them."

"I’m counting on the terrain to funnel them, limit their mobility. If they can’t swarm, we can pick them off in controlled strikes." You glance at your men, weighing each of them. "We’ll need explosives to destabilize the cliffs. Set the charges right, we could bring half of them down before they get close."

"Risky," Snap says with a low whistle.

"Only if we hesitate." You meet his gaze. "Do you trust me?"

He doesn’t waver, not for a second. "Always, sir."

That should reassure you. It should fill you with confidence. But it only serves to twist the knot in your stomach tighter. You nod anyway. "Then gear up. We move in five."

As the squad disperses to prepare, Booker lingers, his fingers tapping against his rifle. He doesn’t speak, his silence more meaningful than anything he could say. You can feel the concern radiating from him, the uncertainty, the worry.

"I know what you're thinking," you say, your voice low. His brow furrows, and his gaze shifts toward the men, watching as they grab their equipment. "But they have a choice. And I trust them."

"I'm not worried about the men, I'm worried about you," he replies, and he looks back at you, the lines around his eyes deepening. "You're taking a lot of chances lately. Don't think I haven't noticed."

"It's the only way we win," you retort. Your voice is harsh, your words more biting than you intend, and he flinches, his shoulders slumping. You let out a heavy sigh and place a hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"You better," he mutters, his hand coming up to cover yours. "If you get yourself killed, I'm gonna be really pissed. And don't think Rex won't be, either."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of his name, and you pull your hand away, clearing your throat.

"You worry too much," you say, offering him a weak smile. "I'll be fine."

"Right," he replies. His expression softens, and his hand falls to his side. "Just...come back. All of you. Okay?"

"We will," you assure him. You turn and gesture for Snap to join you. "Come on, we're burning daylight."

The ravine is a jagged scar in the land, cutting deep through the valley, its steep cliffs lined with loose rock and vegetation. It's narrow, just wide enough for three men to traverse shoulder to shoulder, and the perfect place to bottleneck an enemy.

The plan is simple: let the droids enter, detonate the charges, and force the survivors into a close-quarters engagement. One they won’t walk away from.

You crouch behind a boulder at the ridge’s edge, peering down into the path below. The morning sun casts long shadows across the jagged rock walls, but it does little to ease the weight settling in your chest. You stretch your senses outward, brushing against the cold, mechanical signatures approaching from the north.

The droids are close.

Snap shifts beside you, his rifle braced against his shoulder. He's watching the ravine below, scanning the terrain, searching for any signs of movement. The others are waiting elsewhere out of sight, hidden in the shadows, ready to strike.

"I've got eyes on 'em," Snap murmurs. "Looks like... a full squad of commandos, maybe two. Moving in formation."

You exhale slowly, fingers curling around the hilts of your lightsabers. "Then we stick to the plan."

Screwball, perched on a ledge above, snorts.

"You say that like plans don’t go to hell the second we start shooting," he says, his voice barely audible through the comm. "We ready to light this thing up, or what?"

"Just hold your position," you reply. "Wait for my signal."

"Whatever you say, sir."

You glance back at him to see his posture is relaxed, his arms draped over his knees. The detonator is clutched loosely in his right hand, his thumb resting on the trigger. He seems calm, almost bored, and you can't help but envy his composure.

"Stay focused," you remind him, and he chuckles.

"Don't worry, General. I know how to handle myself."

You roll your eyes and turn back to the ravine. The droids march into view, moving with an unsettling precision. Unlike the standard B1s or even B2s, these commandos are sleek, built for agility. Their movements are eerily smooth, nearly silent, and in their hands are dual-bladed staffs made of a strange, dark metal.

Your pulse steadies. You can feel the moment hovering on the edge of action, that perfect, weightless second before a fight begins. The anticipation is always the worst, and the adrenaline is coursing through your veins, heightening your senses, sharpening your focus. Your heart is beating slow, your muscles coiled, ready to strike.

Then, with a wave of your hand, you give the signal.

The first blast rings out, echoing off the rock walls. It's followed by a second, a third, a fourth, the explosions rippling along the canyon walls in a cascade of rock and dust. The blast takes out the lead droids instantly, their metal forms crushed beneath tons of debris. The rest reel back, momentarily thrown into disarray.

"Go!"

Snap and the others move as one, blasters lighting up the smoke-filled canyon. You take a deep breath and ignite your blades, launching yourself over the ledge. You hit the ground hard, landing in the fray with a controlled burst of the Force, sending the nearest commando droid skidding backward.

Your lightsaber arcs through the air, slicing through the first droid, its body falling in two pieces. The second is already moving, its staff swinging down, and you move to block with your blade before remembering at the last moment that the cortosis will resist the plasma. You pivot, narrowly dodging the attack, and swing again, this time severing the droid's arm at the shoulder.

A bolt sizzles past you, slamming into the droid's chest, and it falls backward, collapsing to the ground. Another shot rings out, and the droid's head explodes, sending shrapnel flying. You duck, barely avoiding a piece of metal as it whizzes by.

Dash and Snap are beside you, their blasters trained on the remaining droids, their shots finding their targets with deadly accuracy. You spin, deflecting another bolt and bringing your blades down, carving a deep gash in the chest of a nearby droid. The commando falls back, its movements sluggish, and a second bolt pierces its head, causing it to fall limp.

A third and fourth droid approach, their blades swinging, and you deflect their attacks, pushing back against their onslaught. You're holding your own, but the enemy isn't faltering. The commandos regroup, adjusting, adapting. One of them moves with eerie precision, its blade slicing dangerously close to your ribs. You're forced to sidestep, throwing up a shield to block a second attack.

A warning flares in the Force.

You spin, deflecting a blaster bolt aimed at your head, and the commando is upon you, its blade sailing toward your left arm. The blade of Yaddle's lightsaber fizzles and dies as it connects with the metal, the shock nearly ripping the hilt from your hand. Your other lightsaber snaps up, cutting through the commando's arm, and the staff falls uselessly to the ground.

Your vision tunnels, your focus shifting, and the world slows to a standstill along with your heartbeat. You can hear the hum of your blade, the rasp of metal, the snap-hiss of Dash's blaster. The droids are closing in, and you're surrounded. A bolt grazes your thigh, and another glances off your shoulder. You're moving too slowly, and you can't block them all. You won't be able to keep up.

You can feel the stirrings of something whispering, calling out to you. It's there, just beyond the edge of your mind, a familiar, seductive power. You reach out, and it answers, filling you with a sense of strength, a sense of certainty. A sense of control.

It would be so easy.

So very, very easy.

You could crush the droids without a thought. You know you could. The Force is already singing, urging you forward, beckoning you, begging for release. Just a taste. Just a moment. That's all it would take. A snap of your fingers, a whisper on the wind, and the battle would be won. You could save the men, and no harm would come to them. Not if you did this. Not if you took matters into your own hands.

"General, look out!"

Snap pushes you out of the way, the butt of his rifle connecting with the side of a commando's head, sending it reeling. He ducks under the blade as you've seen him do a hundred times during training, bringing his rifle up and firing a single shot directly underneath the droid's chin. The commando goes still, its head jerking backwards before its body falls lifelessly to the ground.

He's panting, his helmet tilted, and his visor is locked onto you, his shoulders tense.

"You okay?" Snap asks, his voice tight, and you nod and swallow hard.

"Thanks."

"What the hell was that, sir? You stopped moving."

You shake your head and straighten, gripping your lightsabers tightly. Yaddle's blade hums to life again, and the hilt feels strangely cold, a chill creeping up your arm.

"Nothing," you reply. "Don't worry about it. Let's finish this."

"Copy that," he mutters. He lifts his blaster and fires, taking down a nearby commando, its head exploding in a shower of sparks. "Watch your six."

You glance to the side just in time to see a droid rushing toward you, its blade raised. You dodge, sidestepping and swinging your own blade, catching the staff as it sails past. The staff breaks in two, and both halves swipe toward you, striking your shoulder and knocking you back. The impact sends you staggering, your boots sliding on the loose dirt, and your feet slip from underneath you.

Dash is there before you can right yourself, stepping in front of you and ducking under the droid’s staff, his own vibroblade flashing in the sun. He slashes upward, severing the its arm at the elbow, and spins, his leg snapping out and catching the droid in the chest. It flies backward, crashing into the rock wall. Its body is mangled, the metal twisted and bent, and it crumples to the ground, unmoving.

Dash turns, his hand outstretched, and you can't help but smile.

“You’re still leaving your left side open,” you tease. You clasp his hand, and he pulls you to your feet, his helmet tilting to the side.

"What, that wasn't good?"

You can’t help but laugh before you wince, grabbing your injured shoulder. The blade failed to cut through your armor, but you can feel the bruise forming already.

"It was better," you concede.

Screwball lands on the ground behind you with a thud, his boots kicking up a cloud of dust. He raises his blaster, firing a series of shots, and a trio of droids collapse. They fall into a heap, and he lets out a whoop, spinning around and shooting another commando as it charges him.

"That's the last of 'em," he declares. He slings his rifle over his shoulder and gestures to the wreckage, a cocky tilt to his stance. "You should put me in charge of your training sessions, General. I could teach the men a thing or two."

You shake your head, still clutching your shoulder. "I'll consider it."

He lets out a bark of laughter and turns, surveying the destruction. You take a moment to catch your breath, the adrenaline starting to wear off, and your legs are shaking. You can feel the exhaustion settling in, the familiar ache spreading through your limbs, and the pain in your shoulder is worsening.

"That was easier than I expected," Screwball says. He nudges a nearby droid with his foot, his helmet tilting to the side. "Almost disappointingly easy."

Snap lets out a sigh. “Don’t jinx it, vod. We're not done yet."

The comm crackles, and a voice comes through, faint but distinct.

"Sir, this is Booker. We have a situation."

You and Snap share a look. Screwball snorts, and the captain shakes his head at him, pointing an accusatory finger. "Told you."

"Report," you say, tapping the commlink in your wrist gauntlet. "What's going on?"

“Our party guests never showed,” Booker answers grimly. "Looks like we got played."

"Shit," you breathe, and your gaze snaps up, scanning the area. The ravine is still, the morning sun casting long shadows across the rocky ground. Nothing stirs, and the only noise is the wind whistling through the narrow gap. But there's a heaviness in the air, an invisible presence, a cold sensation pressing down on your senses. “They could still be coming."

"I don't think so," Snap replies. His helmet tilts up, and he points to the sky, where a cloud of smoke is rising in the distance. "That's not a good sign."

The comm crackles, and a voice comes through. It's strained, distorted, and filled with static.

"—epeat, we—eing atta—"

"Luminara?" you ask, tapping the commlink. "Do you copy?"

"—eady?—an't—"

"Master, can you hear me?"

There's nothing but static, and you curse, tapping the link again. It's no use. The transmission has been cut off, and the heavy feeling in the air has only gotten worse. Your gaze shifts back to the sky, where the column of smoke is darkening, a thick cloud rising over the valley.

“Find a droid with its memory core intact,” you order, and the men scramble, searching the wreckage. "We need to know what we're up against."

You take a step forward, your gaze fixed on the smoke. The weight is almost unbearable, a pressure on your mind, an invisible fist squeezing. You can feel it trying to force you down, trying to make you bend. And it's only getting stronger.

“Booker," you murmur, your voice tight, and you can hear the unease in his response. "Tell me you're seeing this."

"I see it, General,” he answers. “Looks like it’s coming from the capitol. Whatever the hell this is, it's bad."

"Yeah, I got that," you reply, and the smoke continues to billow, a black plume against the blue sky.

Your pulse is pounding, a lump in your throat. It's just like the visions. The smoke. The screaming. The bodies. It's all there. And it's happening right now.

"We need to get moving," you say. You turn and start walking, the men falling in behind you. Screwball props his foot on the chest of the droid he’s looming over and wrenches its head off, tossing it to Dash. "Now. Work fast. We need that data."

Snap catches up to you, his footsteps quick.

"Is everything okay, General?" he asks. He lowers his voice, glancing over his shoulder at the others. "You're not looking so hot."

"I'm fine," you snap, and he stiffens, his pace slowing. "Sorry. It's just...it's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," you reply. "I'm not hurt."

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it," he counters. His voice is gentle, his tone cautious, and he matches your pace, his posture stiff. "You froze up out there. The last time I saw you like that, you…”

You turn away, avoiding his gaze. Snap is the only person who’s ever seen the extent of the ability you keep locked away, the only one to bear witness to the amount of destruction the blast of energy could cause. It was a mistake, a loss of control. He was the first person to see the true depth of the darkness in your heart. And you know he hasn’t forgotten.

"Don't worry," you mutter. You can feel the anger simmering in your chest, the frustration. "I have no intention of repeating that mistake."

He sighs. "It's not a mistake, it's just—"

"It is," you insist, turning back. Your eyes are stinging, and your hand curls into a fist, nails biting into the flesh of your palm. "It's not who I am. And it's not who I want to be."

He pauses, his shoulders slumping, and the silence between you is heavy. The wind blows, scattering the dust at your feet, and the smell of smoke fills your nose, the air thick with the scent of ash and burnt metal. You can't help but shudder, and you know Snap notices.

"It's just..." he says, and the words catch, his voice rough. "I've seen what that power can do. I've seen what you're capable of." He glances over his shoulder and looks back at you, his head tilted down, his voice dropping. "And if you're gonna go head-to-head with that thing, I want to make sure you're doing it on purpose."

"It's under control," you repeat. You take a deep breath, forcing your voice to remain even, your gaze focused. "I won't let it get the better of me."

"I trust you," he murmurs. He places a hand on your arm, his grip gentle, his fingers squeezing. "I trust you, but I also care about you, and I know how much you hate yourself for using that ability."

"Snap," you whisper, your heart aching. You don't deserve his concern. You don't deserve his kindness. But he gives it freely, and it only adds to the guilt twisting in your gut. "Please. I can't talk about this right now. We have a mission."

"Right," he agrees. He nods, his helmet bobbing, and his hand falls to his side. "Right. Sorry."

You give him a weak smile. "It's okay. We'll talk about it later."

"You always say that."

"Because we will," you assure him. "I promise."

The comm crackles, and Booker's voice rings out, cutting through the silence.

“General, just got word from Gree,” he says, and the knot in your stomach tightens. "They’re under heavy fire in the capitol."

You lift up your commlink, and the holoprojection of Booker flickers to life. He's pacing, his helmet tucked under his arm, and his expression is drawn, his jaw set.

"How heavy?"

"A full-on siege," he replies, stopping to turn toward you. He shakes his head, and the image stutters. "They've barricaded themselves in the central square. If we don't hurry, they won't last long."

You exhale slowly, steeling yourself.

“Don't wait for us," you order. “Take the transports and get to the city now. Reinforce General Unduli and hold the line until we get there.”

Booker hesitates, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a nod, he replies, "Copy that, sir. See you soon."

The image flickers out, and you lower your arm, taking a deep breath. You stop walking and look over at the squad, where Screwball is holding the droid’s head out for Dash. The young trooper has jacked into the port on the back of its head, the other end tethered to his datapad. You can see the information scrolling across the screen, and you gesture for him to join you.

"Got something," he calls, and he jogs over, holding up the device. The data is streaming across the screen, and the map is flashing. You can see the layout of the town and the location of the main square. "Looks like they're moving on the capitol. They rerouted all of their forces."

"They knew we were waiting for them in the village," Snap mutters. He steps beside you, his helmet tilted. "But why still send a commando unit out here instead of using them for the siege?"

"That's a damn good question," Screwball agrees. "Maybe they figured the droids could handle us?"

"Unlikely," you reply, and the map is flashing again. It zooms in, revealing the path the droids took, a route directly toward the capitol. "They were leading us away from the main battle. Leading me away."

"Leading you away?" Dash asks. "Why would they want to do that? Seems like a waste of resources."

“Dooku had a shiny new toy he wanted to show off," Screwball suggests. He grins, his visor glinting. "Maybe he wants to play with our Jedi."

"He's playing with fire," you mutter. Your gaze shifts to the sky, where the smoke is rising, the plume dark and ominous. "We're going to have to move on foot. Send everything you have to Booker and Gree. Tell them what we're facing."

Dash nods, tapping the console before he looks up at the sky.

"You think Master Unduli and the 41st are gonna be okay?" he asks, his voice quiet, and his helmet turns, his visor gleaming in the light. "I mean, they're gonna have their hands full without us, right?"

You let out a slow breath and try to calm your mind. It's harder than usual. These past few months of constant battles have worn down your shields. You're struggling to find the stillness within, and your many attempts to draw the darkness into the light and transform it have been futile. Yaddle's teachings feel more and more like a memory of a bygone era, a dream half-remembered, a shadow of what could have been. A shadow of who you could have been.

You know that Luminara will succeed. She has a lifetime of training and discipline behind her, a lifetime of experience and wisdom. She's a beacon of light in the Force, a pillar of strength. She's everything you're not, and she's everything you should have been. And she has an entire legion of men to help her.

So, yes. You know she will succeed.

The question is at what cost.

"They’ll be fine," you say, the lie burning on your tongue. Dash relaxes slightly, and his helmet tilts back toward the sky, the clouds drifting lazily overhead. "Let's get moving. We've got a job to do."

By the time you reach the capitol, the city is already burning. Flames are consuming buildings, smoke billowing from shattered windows and crumbling walls. The defensive wall has been breached, and droid tanks are rolling through the streets, their guns firing incessantly into buildings with seemingly no pattern.

It's chaos.

You've fought for the Republic long and hard. You've bled for the Republic. And you've lost men. Too many.

But this...this is unlike anything you've seen.

Screwball's hand finds the back of your head, pushing you down behind the cover of the rubble as a squadron of vulture droids pass overhead, the whine of their engines echoing off the broken buildings. Two Republic fighters painted with the green of the 41st are in pursuit, but the droids are too fast, and they evade the blasts easily. They soar over the rooftops, and the fighters are forced to break off, looping around to regroup.

You take a deep breath and lean back against the broken concrete, the rough texture digging into your spine. The smell of ash is in the air, burning stone, metal, and something worse. Something organic.

“General Unduli’s position is—” Static erupts from your comm, and all ten of the troopers turn their heads toward you. “—east sector—cut off—heavy casualties—”

A sudden explosion racks the building beside you, and you throw up a shield to deflect the debris. Shards of rock and chunks of metal rain down around you, and a nearby AT-TE topples, its treads snapping as it crashes into the street.

You grit your teeth and close your eyes, reaching out through the Force, trying to locate Luminara and Barriss. You can sense them, but the connection is faint. Their signatures are distant, their presence shrouded by the fog of the battle.

"We need to get to the main square," you tell the men. "We're getting cut off. Luminara and Barriss are in danger."

"That's great and all, but how the hell are we gonna do that?" Screwball asks, his tone clipped. He glances over his shoulder and ducks down as another explosion rocks the city, sending a shower of dust and ash falling from the sky. "If those things spot us, we're toast."

He's right. The entire avenue leading toward General Unduli’s last known position is blocked by swaths of droids. Separatist reinforcements are pouring in faster than Republic forces can push them back. You can hear the clones fighting street by street, alley by alley, but the tide is shifting, and the droids are advancing.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, focusing on the task athand. It's not just about getting to Luminara and Barriss. There are civilians trapped in the crossfire. Families. Children. Innocents. You have a duty to protect them. And that means you need to find a way through.

Dash moves closer, crouching beside you. "I have an idea."

"Let's hear it."

"Well," he says, his voice low, and his visor gleams. "It's probably a really stupid idea, but I think it could work."

"Oh, boy," Screwball mutters.

"What's your plan?"

He points toward a series of cables dangling from the side of a nearby building, and your eyes narrow. "You're not serious."

He huffs. "Got a better idea?"

You glance at the cables again and shake your head. "Fine. But we need to make this quick."

"Then follow my lead."

Before you can argue, Dash launches himself out of cover and begins sprinting toward the opposite side of the street. You curse and follow after him, the rest of the squad close behind. The droids are still occupied with the AT-TEs, their backs turned, and the distraction buys you a precious moment of time.

Scaling the side of the building is a challenge, but you're able to use the Force to pull yourself up. You reach the roof just as the droids notice your squad, their heads swiveling toward the men. The first bolt is already flying, and it narrowly misses Dash's helmet, slamming into the building behind him.

You and the squad race across the roof, dodging shots and leaping across the gaps between the buildings. Below, the droids are scrambling, their cannons swiveling up toward you, and the sky is filled with a hail of fire. Blasts streak past you, and you're forced to throw up a shield, deflecting the incoming projectiles. One bolt skims past your arm, slicing through the cloth between your shoulder plate and rerebrace. You bite back a yelp and push forward, urging the men onward.

The gap ahead is wider than the others, the distance too great to jump. Instead, you leap onto the edge and push off, using the Force to propel yourself across.

"Two at a time, I'll catch you!" you shout.

"Copy that," Dash calls. He slows and turns to the nearest clone, shoving him forward. "You're up, Screwball."

"Why do I have to go first?" Screwball grumbles. He glances over the edge of the building, his shoulders sagging. "Shit."

"Because you're the slowest," Dash replies, his tone matter-of-fact. "And I want to make sure we get there in time."

Screwball mutters something under his breath, and he braces himself, preparing for the jump. Another trooper, Fuse, nudges him as he lines up his jump, and the two of them leap across the gap. You catch them with a wave of the Force, carrying them safely to the other side.

The rest of the squad follows, leaping across in pairs. Each time, you catch them and lower them gently to the ground.

It's exhausting work, and you're beginning to feel the strain of the battle. The constant fighting, the constant running, the constant use of the Force has left you drained. Your limbs are heavy, your lungs aching, and your injuries are only getting worse. You can barely lift the arm that was wounded by the cortosis blade, and your shoulder is throbbing, the pain pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You're running on pure adrenaline and willpower. It's the only thing keeping you going.

Your arm wavers as Snap and another trooper make the leap, and you let out a gasp as they drop. They fall halfway across, their bodies crashing into the side of the building. You reach out, catching them and pulling them up, but the effort leaves you breathless. The men scramble over the edge and roll onto the roof, their armor scratched and dented.

"That was a hell of a catch, sir," Snap wheezes. He pushes himself to his feet and gives the other man a hand up. "Thanks."

"Anytime," you mutter. You stand, taking a moment to steady yourself, and the world tilts. You lean heavily against Fuse, his arm steadying you. "I think we're almost there."

"You're wounded, sir," he says. His fingers brush the raw burn bisecting your arm, and you wince, hissing between your teeth. "I've got bacta gel, let me patch it up."

"It can wait," you insist, shaking your head. You straighten and take a deep breath, willing yourself to stay upright. "We're close. We can't afford to stop."

He grumbles, but you don't give him a chance to argue, and you lead the squad toward the edge of the building. The main square is in view, the plaza choked with smoke, the buildings surrounding it ablaze. The battle has spilled into the streets, a sea of white and green and gold fighting against an army of metal. It's chaos.

"We're nearly there," you call, and the men pick up the pace.

"General, I'm detecting movement," Snap calls. "Incoming!"

A Republic fighter streaks overhead, and the droids shift their attention, their guns tracking the ship. A blast connects, and the fighter spins out of control, the engines sputtering. The ship crashes into the rooftop on the opposite side of the square, sending debris and shrapnel raining down into the fray.

“We drop in hard and fast. Shock and break their ranks before they realize what’s happening," you command. You pause, taking a moment to steel yourself, and your fingers curl around the hilt of Yaddle's lightsaber. The hilt is warm beneath your touch, a comfort. "Be careful. There are civilians in the area."

"Yes, sir," the men chorus.

"Good. Move out!"

With that, the squad launches themselves off the building, their armored bodies plummeting toward the ground. The troopers land hard, their boots pounding against the ground, and they move quickly, falling into formation. They spread out, weapons raised, and begin firing on the droids.

You land a moment later, and you're moving before the shock wears off. Your lightsabers swing wide, cutting through a pair of droids, and the troopers press forward, their guns blazing. They fight like a well-oiled machine, each man knowing exactly where the other is, where he needs to be. They work in perfect synchronization, and the droids are overwhelmed, their ranks crumbling.

But the fighting isn't easy. The droids are relentless, and the clones are outnumbered. Fuse takes a hit to the chest and goes down, a scorch mark seared across his breastplate. Screwball dives, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the line of fire, and a pair of troopers flank him, their blasters lighting up the air.

"Push through!" you order. You deflect a bolt aimed at a clone's head, your lightsaber flashing, and the droid explodes. "We need to reach General Unduli!"

Snap falls into step beside you, his rifle pressed against his shoulder. He fires a series of shots, taking down three droids in quick succession.

"She's holed up in the capitol building," he says. He points to a tower looming over the square, its walls crumbling, its windows shattered. A few troopers peek out of the upper windows every few seconds to fire on the droids before retreating, only to reappear a moment later. "That's where they're holding out."

You can sense Luminara's presence now. Her signature is unmistakable, her power rippling through the Force. She's still standing, but you can sense the pain radiating from her. It's like a physical weight pressing down on you, and it only adds to your exhaustion.

"We need to hurry," you say.

A pair of vulture droids scream overhead, their wings folding back as they dive toward the ground. A clone on a nearby rooftop fires a rocket, and the projectile connects, sending the fighter spiraling out of control.

You watch in horror as it spirals toward where Dash and several other troopers are engaged with a group of droids. The fighter crashes into the ground, and a wall of smoke and flame erupts, sending men and droids alike flying.

"Dash!" you shout. "Snap, find him! Go!"

"Yes, sir!"

Snap launches himself toward the crash site, his blaster held high. He ducks and rolls, firing a shot that blows apart a droid's chest, and he's up again, sprinting into the smoke. The rest of the men follow, and you force yourself to turn away toward the capitol building, where a line of droids has formed, blocking the entrance.

The battle rages around you, a blur of noise and fire and smoke. You can't tell the droids apart from the clones anymore. You just keep pushing, tears stinging your eyes as you slash and cut and slice. The droids fall around you, and you don't stop. You're not sure you even breath until you're inside the capitol building, the doors slamming shut behind you.

"Master," a voice says, and you turn to see Barriss, her expression drawn. Her robes are stained with blood, her head covering torn. "Thank the Force."

"Are you alright?" you ask, and she nods, her lips pressing together. "Where's Luminara?"

"She's resting," Barriss replies. She gestures for you to follow, and she leads you deeper into the building. "We were forced to retreat after our forces were pushed back. There's only a handful of our squad left."

You follow her up the stairs and into the main chamber. It's a functional room, plain and unadorned, a testament to Nadiem’s agricultural roots. Two troopers are positioned at the entrance, and a third is tending to a wounded comrade, wrapping bandages around his arm. Luminara is leaning on a pillar, her hand clutching her side and watching the scene. She straightens as you enter, her expression softening.

"You took your time," she teases, her smile faint. She looks weary, her eyes heavy, and there's a bruise blooming along her jaw. "I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten about us."

"Ah, well. You know me, always fashionably late," you reply. You return her smile and move toward her, your gaze shifting to her side. "How badly are you hurt?"

"Just a scratch," she says. She moves her hand, and you can see a deep gash in her side, the edges singed. But the bleeding has stopped, and the wound isn't as bad as it could be. "Barriss has handled the worst of it."

"Good work," you praise, and Barriss flushes, ducking her head. "I'm sorry we were delayed. The situation with the commandos was worse than expected."

Luminara sighs. "I should have known. Dooku is always full of tricks."

"We're just glad you made it," Barriss says. Her gaze shifts, and her brow furrows. "Are you alright? You look...unwell."

You try to hide your grimace at the question. It's one you've heard enough of today, and you feel a flash of irritation, though it's not directed at Barriss.

"I'm fine," you lie.

The wound on your arm throbs, and the smell of blood and smoke is everywhere. You can't tell the difference between the two anymore. It's all just death. All just pain. And you can't take it anymore. Your body is shaking, and you want to collapse, to curl up in a corner and cry, but you can't.

There's a voice in the back of your head that whispers to you, reminding you that you have the power to end this, to save the clones. It would be so easy. Just a snap of your fingers. A flick of your wrist. You could have the whole thing over in a matter of minutes.

You bite your cheek, tasting blood, and you squeeze your eyes shut. It's tempting. So, so tempting. But you know what will happen if you give in. The darkness will consume you. And what happened here on Nadiem will pale in comparison to what will happen elsewhere. To what you will become.

No.

You can't.

You won't.

But, Maker, you want to.

"It's been a hell of a day," you offer when the silence has dragged too long. You try to keep your voice light, but the words come out strained. "I'll be fine once I get a chance to sit down."

Luminara's eyes narrow.

"General!"

You whip around, your head snapping toward the entrance. Booker is standing in the doorway, his helmet tucked under his arm. He's out of breath, his hair disheveled, his uniform covered in dirt and soot. But he's alive. He's alive.

And he's smiling.

"You're not gonna believe this," he pants. "But they're retreating."

"What?" you gasp.

"I know," he says. He grins, and the rest of the men begin pouring in behind him. "Looks like they ran out of tricks. The reinforcements are pulling out."

The wave of relief that crashes over you is staggering, drowning out the pain and fatigue and worry. Your legs threaten to buckle, and you have to grab the wall for support, the stone rough beneath your fingers.

Booker pushes past the rest of the men and grabs you, his arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you off the ground. He spins you around, and the motion only adds to the dizziness.

"Put me down," you laugh. He obliges, setting you back on your feet, and you lean heavily against him, your eyes falling shut. "Kriff. I didn't think we'd make it."

He huffs. "Don't be so dramatic."

Your head lolls, and he steadies you, his hands on your shoulders. You force your eyes open, blinking away the black spots that swim in your vision.

"Dash?" you ask. "Snap? Is everyone...?"

"We're all fine, sir," Booker replies. His tone is soft, reassuring, and he holds up a finger. "Well, Fuse is a bit banged up, but he'll pull through. Wise is already reading him the riot act about not taking cover sooner."

Your shoulders sag. "Thank the Force."

"General!"

Your head snaps toward the door, and Snap is striding across the room, a smile on his face. You break away from Booker and launch yourself toward him, and he catches you, his arms encircling you.

"Snap, are you okay? Are the others—"

"They're fine," he promises. His voice is warm, and his hands rub circles on your back, his touch gentle. "We're all okay."

You relax, melting into his embrace. The world is spinning, but it doesn't matter. He's safe. Everyone is safe.

And you're so, so tired.

Your knees give out, and Snap's arms tighten around you, holding you up. "General."

"M'okay," you murmur, your forehead resting against his chest plate. His heart is pounding, his body trembling. "I'm okay."

He lets out a shaky laugh. "You're not."

He's right. But it doesn't matter.

You've won. You're alive.

And you're still holding on.

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#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #wrote this chapter in two days and did not proofread sorryy #accidentally threw in another clone OC but idk if i want to do a lot with him i just needed another guy 💀#if you wanna flesh him out be my guest #also! new masterlist format #there’s summaries for the parts now

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