#I need to be skinny why am I not skinny yet

[lucy90712]

Not enough- Jude Bellingham

Dating a footballer is fun until he becomes incredibly successful and all of a sudden there are rumours left and right of him dating someone that isn't you. That's what my life is like Jude and I got together 3 years ago now when we were 17 and have been together since but we never made our relationship public because until the summer we were still long distance and didn't want the extra pressure. Having our relationship private has been so nice as it has meant when we do see each other we get to just enjoy being together but it also means we have to deal with rumours of who Jude might be dating. Those rumours never really got to me while Jude was at dortmund but since he's moved to Madrid things have just got so much more intense it seems that every few weeks there is a million new articles and tweets. 

Having to read all of this and seeing how pretty all the girls has really started to get to me. All the girls Jude is rumoured to be with are either models or just incredibly pretty which makes me feel awful about myself. All these girls have made a name for themselves in some way yet here I am with my job in a cafe while I try and find a job in the area that I studied. Jude likes to tell me that he doesn't care what I do for a living or how much I make but I can't help but feel guilty when I can't contribute much to the house or get him expensive things like he does for me. I'm also definitely no model I'm definitely not as pretty or as skinny as a model which I used to be ok with but now I don't feel so confident in myself. The other wags are also so pretty I definitely don't fit in with them either which makes me feel even worse about myself. 

Jude doesn't seem to have any clue that this is all going on he wakes up goes to training then hangs out with the boys leaving me until late at night so he doesn't see all the rumours or how they affect me. He's not here for the time I spend scrolling through social media or looking in the mirror judging everything about myself. Even when Jude is home he always seems to have something else on his mind so he never really gives me compliments anymore. I'd like to think that he still loves me but at this point I'm really not sure I mean he's young and he's attractive why would he want to be tied down with someone like me he can do so much better. I simply don't think I'm enough for him. 

A few days ago Jude went out to celebrate a big win for the team while I stayed at home but the next morning all I could see was rumours that Jude was flirting with multiple girls all night letting them dance with him and since I haven't really spoken to him. I spent all of last night laying awake thinking about everything and I decided that I just think I need to break up with Jude so then he's free to do all the things everyone thinks he's doing anyway. It's hard to decide to end a relationship especially one that has been going on for so long and one you are so fond of but I don't see any other way forward. This is why I've been so distant with Jude because in my head if I didn't talk to him that would make all of this easier. 

As always Jude left for training just as I got up for work but by the time I got back he was home which only happened the first few weeks I arrived so it was strange to see him here. Like always I headed upstairs to shower and change and when I came back out the bathroom Jude was sat on the bed waiting for me. I still didn't say anything to him because I'm trying to stay strong until I find the right time to tell Jude how I feel. 

"Babe are you ok you've barely spoken to me the last few days" he said 

"Yeah I'm fine just been busy had a lot on my mind that's all" I replied 

"Please don't lie to me I know there's something more going on I see the way you look all the time I just couldn't figure out what was wrong and now I give up so please tell me what's going on" he begged 

"I didn't want to say this yet because I'm still figuring things out but I think we should break up I just can't do this anymore" I said 

"Please no baby no I can't live without you whatever I've done I can fix it and I'm sorry just please don't break up with me" he said 

"It's nothing you've done it's just me" I said 

"Then what is it please tell me if you really want to do this at least tell me why" he said 

"I'm just not good enough for you every day there is new rumours of you being with someone else and all of them are prettier and have more going for them than I do and you deserve to be with one of them or to just be free to do what you want" I explained 

"But I want you that's what I want I don't want any of these girls nor is there anything going on with any other girl incase that's what you're thinking I like that you live a more normal life you keep me grounded and I think you are the prettiest girl in the world" Jude replied 

"Then why are you never home and why do you never compliment me anymore?" I asked 

"I-I'm sorry babe you're right I haven't been home much but I will change that I will come home after training and I will invite you to more things and believe me I could sit here for hours and compliment you and I'll do that if I need to" he said 

Jude did exactly what he said he started listing all the things he loves about me while giving me kisses. It felt so good to have his attention again it felt like we were back to how we were before I came to Madrid. After he complimented every single part of me he asked if I'd like to go out on a date like a proper date outside where people could see us and I didn't hesitate to say yes. Even if people see us who cares it's about time that we went public with our relationship then the rumours can be true for once. We have talked about going public a few times but now feels like the right time just so we can stop the media getting too far out of control 

I got all dressed up in a pretty dress and my makeup and hair all done for once I actually felt really pretty. When Jude walked in he had a white shirt and some black trousers on which he looked so good in. He stopped as soon as he saw me and I think his jaw actually hit the floor which made me blush and that was before he started complimenting me. The entire drive Jude didn't stop telling me how beautiful I looked which honestly made me feel so good about myself. 

At the restaurant there was people taking pictures of us walking in which Jude tried to protect me from a bit but we wanted to be seen together. It was weird being in front of so many cameras as I've spent years trying to avoid all of this but now I'm happily letting them all take pictures and stare at me trying to work out who I am so they can get their exclusive headline. The people in the restaurant were lovely though they showed us to our table then left us alone as much as possible which was nice as we were able to have a proper date night together. As we finished dessert Jude showed me all the pictures all over Instagram and Twitter then he showed me a post he had drafted to tell everyone about our relationship and put an end to everything. He had a beautiful caption written which nearly made me cry and all the pictures he had I hadn't seen before as they were ones he took secretly but they were all so cute. He let me click post so that it was my decision to go public then he took my phone and turned it off so we could enjoy the rest of our evening together without having to see what everyone has to say.

[skeletal-cryptid-fuckery]

🖤 November 11th, 2023 🖤

~ 136.0lbs ~

[steveandbuckysdaughter]

I am so so so so so TIRED to see people fatshaming two perfectly healthy girls because they have round faces. It’s disgusting.

The actresses of Mai and Azula are on point for their roles. Hell, if they were chosen there must be a reason, it’s not like there’s no Asian actresses out there they could choose from.

People can’t accept that Azula can have a characterization beyond “crazy and sadist sicko”. She’s a perfectionist. She’s an asset to her father. She’s jealous of Zuko’s birthright and of how it might take what she has away. Those are things that OG Azula too had. The only difference is that we actually see it in season one and have a background on her, rather than writing it in a rant. And what has been added only makes her a more complex character, given the change in the family dynamic as well.

And Mai? The actress is talented, she delivers a good Mai, and does justice to the character. She’s 17 and at the beginning of her career, of course it won’t be perfect. She gets to grow. Thing is, you guys won’t let her, because a square jaw scares you so flipping bad that you feel the need to shame her for it.

Everyone is a body positivity advocate until a girl with a rounder face shape is cast as a character in a live action you are NOT forced to watch? Seriously?

I’ve seen so many people on the internet calling them all sort of names, fatshaming them, insulting their work without even focusing on the acting. And I’m like, what’s to fatshame there? Let me tell you: nothing.

If I have to put it through your thick head like this, so be it. Even though I hate talking about and comparing bodies.

This below is a picture of Azula’s actress.

She has the face card, she has the jawline, and she has a fit, enviable body. And you still have the audacity to “fat-shame” her?

These two pictures are in costume. Again, face card and an enviable body. She even has the expression for Azula. You see a girl with a rounder shape of face and will automatically go “no she’s too cute to be Azula!!” Dude. No. When she will actually deliver as the crazy girl we know, she will devour. She will, and you all will switch back because that’s what you are, slimy switchers.

And now, onto Mai’s actress, a very beautiful girl with talent and looks. She is literally so pretty, and you dare hate on her? You dare shame her for how she looks? From what I’ve heard she’s a minor, too, so this makes you 100000% more slimy and undeserving of any sympathy in my book.

This is her, this is the girl.

She’s literally so pretty. Maybe she hasn’t got the same facial structure of Mai, but she delivered all her lines she had in the little screen time and with the discutibile scenes she was given. She was good. But you see a square jaw, a rounder shape of face, and are immediately triggered.

And you can’t even use the stupid argument of “she’s fat”, because this is literally her.

A very normal, very healthy young woman. Not as skinny as OG Mai? So what? She’s still a fricking thin girl. Nowhere as “fat” as you haters make her to be.

I shouldn’t have to explain common sense and basic decency to grown adults, and yet here we are.

This is honestly so frustrating. In the year of 2024 you can’t possibly justify insulting girls like this, with no shame. It’s absolutely idiotic and shows very a big lack of brain cells. I see you, haters, behind your device, with your insecurities and shame for yourself, laughing at two girls who made it farther than you ever will. You can critique the acting once you’ve seen it in full potential. Until then, shut your tramp up. This is very small dick energy of you.

I don’t see why I should treat you with kindness when you are so eager to make this kind of jokes about pretty and in shape girls you are very obviously jealous of. Go touch some grass, incels.

[tiyoin]

me yapping about azul

since seeing the recent 'leaks' for the new octavinelle 'chapter' in the twst manga

I was wondering how Azul would show you he likes you

maybe its from him boasting his achievements while you're in ear shot to let you know just how accomplished he is. because after all, the3 ladies love a well rounded guy 😼

but he makes sure to reel it down a bit when he thinks you might think of him as full of himself (to which he is to some extent.) mainly because he heard you grumble the other day about how pretentious some of the students are. he agrees! stop acting like you achieved something when you haven't!

he's different because[insert list of achievements]

he seems like the type of guy to subtly listen to your food preferences (by sitting near you in the cafeteria during lunch time) and oh boy! there's now a special dessert at the monster lounge for a limited time only!

oh no... one of the twins are serving you and he/ one of them creates some kind... spectacle in the lounge. yes its unprofessional and it kills him. but he makes it seem like some customers had a bad day and decided to take it out on his poor helpless employees

(boohoo, cried the wolves in sheep's skin)

he has no other choice but to go up to your table and apologize for you... rowdy neighbors.

"it's fine-"

no! he cannot have a first time guest think so poorly of him. here- you already ordered their limited addition dessert, how about he gives you another one for... 15- no! 20 percent off! everyone else has to pay full price though... yes even your other neighbors who he merely apologizes to about the disruption

azul is a cocky coward to sum it up

he plays the game well, but also has no idea what to do. plan all he like, charm all he likes. the reality is, is that is not getting him closer to you. not yet that is.

he's calculative. I mean, you have to be to be running a successful business at 17. see! he is good at everything (why are you bringing up gym. that's pointless in the business world. is he not in good enough shape? he is strong despite his skinny stature... so who cares about stamina.-)

he's smart, kind (eye roll), and a hoot to be around!

after azul has 'crafted' his personality to you through subtle gestures (he only does around you), kind gestures (only to you...) and his off handedly brags about his feats and reasons he’d be a great boyfriend (through 'subliminal messaging'

he's going to move onto plan B! where he slowly intagrats himself into your life. mhm.

so when you and grim are looking around for a partner in the first year second year crewel assignment, azul is a kind enough senior to offer his assitan- no there's no catch.

he just thought that you would need all the help you can get- not that you're dumb, but with... azul doesn't even need to finish his sentence before you’re both eyeing grim sashaying his way to the chemicals.

so prefect? what do you say?

oh no, you happen to bump into the table and am falling with the beakers and test tubes? no worries! azul is there to play knight in shining armor and grab you, hoist you up, and protect you from the falling glass that shatters into smithereens on the ground.

yes crewel is yelling at you but see how reliable he is!! not only is he smart and... handsome- but he is a natural protector!-

just dont smile at him like that while you tuck your hair behind your ear- it makes him feel... queasy (that's what they call butterflies azul)

while merpeople are shown to be more touch centric than everyone else. when you accidentally touch Azul's finger when handing over a beaker, azul is lucky that you're on his right side where his long strand of grey hair. effectively blocking your vision of his blush striken face-

NO HE'S NOT ILL- does he look it?” “well… your face is blue-“ (you're so innocent he just wants to strangle you ugh. how utterly adorable) it's just... ridiculously hot in here, dont you think? boy he's parched.

he swiftly makes an exit to the bathroom to get. a. grip. he almost let his carefully crafted charismatic personality slip and show you-… no time to dwell on the past.

something tells him that he shouldn't be leaving you, grim and chemicals alone.

WHY IS JADE FUCKING LEECH AT YOUR TABLE??

THAT NO GOOD-

he was just helping? azul narrows his cerelium eyes at his vice dorm leader. helping with what exactly, jade? the project? …ha yeah right you no good leech.

when you tell azul about how jade was saying he- azul- was just as good at potion making as the benevolent sea witch. azul 'humphs.' why of course he is. as the dorm leader of- ....yes he did have a lot of time to study in his childhood and has been doing stuff like this for a long time. what about it.

azul can't help but feel.. irritated. what else did jade say to you? hmm?

oh.. that was all? clearing his throat, he looks back at jade who is wearing a shit-eatting grin. the eel-mer lowering himself into his seat, eyes looking up as the amber eye catches the light of the potion room. it's that sadistically percerted grin he likes to wear when he's up to no good. having sowed the first seeds of his discord and is waiting for another opportunity to tend to his garden of chaos.

whatever. lets just focus on the assignment. yes prefect he is fine.

azul doesn't like for things to go sideways. he has plan A through Z all thought out and ready to go at any minute. but when a number is added to his perfectly organized letter plans, that's when his knuckles turn white and his nails dent his palms.

the leeches are always there to keep him on his toes. he just thought that he kept his... admiration for you under good enough wraps that his two pesky workers wouldn't find out, not until later when your relationship is closer. but nnooooOOOoo

it was his own fault for underestimating them after all.

but time and time again he has prevailed through such hardships and will continue to best them when they think they can toy with him. and to win, means getting you no matter what those two whisper in your ear, and what they don't.

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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[hauntedwitch04]

Just a Mirror

Sam Winchester x plus size!Reader

Words: about 6.3k words

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy time, eating disorder, hating on your own person, please be careful if you sensible about this themes

REQUEST: Hi :) I saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could do a Sam Winchester x plus sized reader; an angsty fluffy friends to lovers that has some smut and reader hating herself in the mirror and possibly problems with eating

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you @desicroft02 so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea love and I hope you like how it came out, if you don't find yourself with what i wrote, feel free to say it to me and I'll write to you a new one !

p.s.I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. I was never the skinny girl, but with the years I've grown used to feel different to others girls, and even if sometimes I really hate what I see in the mirror, I kinda arrived to the point that I see both the flaws and the strenghts of my body and I love both, but some of my closest friend and this kinda of disorder and I tried to help them the way aI could so this one is for them too.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

Requests are open I Ask

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Why?

This is the only question that floats in your mind, while, with thick tears in your eyes, you try to read the enormous book about whatever monster you are hunting with your friends in this little city, forgotten by God.

You and your childhood best friends are hunting some monster that you still haven't been able to figure out what it is, despite the fact that you are reading yet another list of monstrous animals in the story, while Dean and Sam are still out at the bar where you had decided to spend the evening, and from which you had decided to escape as quickly as possible, without giving any kind of explanation to the two hunters, holding back tears and trying not to meet their confused gaze

You and the boys have been friends since you were six and they were seven and eleven. You met on a rainy October day when you were still living at Bobby's house, after your father had died in a hunting accident after leaving you with him, and being his friend and seeing him almost as a brother he couldn't help but welcome you and raise you as if you were his own daughter.

Dean and Sam had just been left in the rain on the narrow dirt road by their father when you looked out and saw these two cold, sad, and at the same time angry children. You could see the resentment they felt for the man who looked less and less like a father and more and more like an army general, ready to train soldiers and not raise children. Immediately you went to Bobby and told him of the presence of those two unknown children who were in your driveway. He had immediately run to get them and brought them inside the house, worried that they would get sick from standing in the rain, and wondering why their father had left them there, without saying anything.

"He said he didn't have time to explain and that he had to get there as fast as he could, but that he would call you this evening." Said the older of the two once they were seated on the couch in what must once have been a beautiful dining room, and was now more like an ever-growing mountain of books. It is to your adoptive father that you owe all the culture and ability to read texts on the supernatural that most hunters would not even know how to open.

As he spoke you could see the blond child trying to hold back the sadness within himself and show himself as a big boy, almost pretending to understand why his father abandoned them like that without saying a word; in contrast, the one who was supposed to be the smaller of the two, with unruly brown hair, looked more like a beaten puppy, as he wetly moved his feet lazily on the floor, listening to what his brother had to say, but not hiding his sadness and anger at his daddy's decision.

"Baby, couldn't you get Sammy a glass of water for him while Dean and I go make a call for a minute?" Bobby then asked you suddenly, and you realized that you were lost in thought as you watched and studied those boys. You nodded quickly, trying not to let it show that you had spent all that time staring at them, as you heard Bobby's voice and that of the blond boy, apparently named Dean, drift away, only to hear the front door open and close.

After a few minutes you returned to the living room with a glass in your hand, and walked over to the brown-eyed boy, who was now looking at you and smiling shyly. You handed him the glass with a beaming smile, and he could do nothing but blush a little and retract his body a little, letting shyness take possession of him as he took the glass.

"Thank you." He told you in a faint voice.

"You're welcome." You replied as you sat next to him on the sofa.

"My name is Sam." He said, only to freeze and blush again as he held out a hand for you to shake, just as grown-ups do. You told him your name, and he commented that it was a very nice name, and that he liked it a lot, before going back to being silent and staring into the sad void.

You not being able to see what you considered a new friend feel so bad, you shamelessly asked him why his father had left him there and if that was why he was sad. He turned to look at you, and unknown how, he burst into tears, while with his hands he covered his face, not wanting to be seen as weak with someone he had just met, but you didn't give a damn.

Immediately you hugged him and listened to him talk about how his father was behaving with them, how his brother was struggling more and more to hide that he was tired of his parent's behavior, and how he was lonely and sad, constantly changing towns and seeing nothing but his family. That poor seven-year-old seemed to be thirty years old because of the problems he was telling you about, and as much as you were even younger because you were only six, you felt like you could understand him, because for a while that had also been your life before your father passed away.

You remained thus cuddled on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire slightly away from you and the new friendly presence that had entered your lives that afternoon, so much so that when Bobby and Dean returned after trying for a varied amount of time to contact John, and finally once succeeding in being insulted and put down by him, they both smiled at the sight of those two small and defenseless children embracing each other, as if to protect each other from the world. But no one knew that night before you fell asleep you had promised to protect each other forever, no matter how, when or why you would always be there for each other.

That was how you got to know the Winchester brothers, and the hatred for their father also began.

You awaken from your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close, realizing that another time had gone into the whirlwind of memories and you were lost in remembering again when life was easy. You hear someone coming toward you with heavy footsteps, so you wipe away the tears you didn't know were there on your cheeks, which like small streams had almost made a furrow along your skin by now.

You sense right away who it is, but you don't have the strength to turn around so you continue to cry silently as you feel two arms wrapped around you, and Dean's warm body resting on your back as he leans down so that he can put his head in the crook of your neck and hold you better. Ever since the two of you met it was immediately like big brother and little sister between the two of you, and even now despite the fact that it has been a long time since you were children and in your spare time you enjoyed stealing cherries from the neighbor's tree, there is still that complicity and understanding between the two of you that once existed.

He knows exactly why you escaped so suddenly from the dive bar you were both in a few hours ago. Sam had seen a beautiful girl, the classic cover model of some magazine, slim and with all her shape in the right place, taking a drink at the bar, looking seductively at him as she put the drink straw between her lips. Sam's hormones had not let him repeat twice that clear call to fuck directly in the bar's bathroom, a bathroom from which you were coming out as he was sticking his tongue down the throat of that fake and at the same time perfect babe, who in his arms looked so small and yet in the right place, toned against his strong muscles, as opposed to how you would have looked with your shapely body. You couldn't stand there and watch the boy you love for so long now make out with someone else, so without explanation you left and went back to the motel where you took two bedrooms for the case. Usually you take two rooms only when Dean wanted to find someone to take to bed, unlike Sam who kept his sex life much more private than his brother, but since he and Cas had come out a few months ago you had not taken the second room, having practically grown up together and thus having no problem sharing space. That night, however, when you had arrived in the small town Sam had insisted on taking a second room, and stubbornly had not told his older brother why when he had asked him, and somehow your heart was preparing for what would happen, but in fact nothing would totally prepare you for what you would see in that bar and how your heart would break.

Dean squeezes you tightly, as if he is afraid you will disappear at any moment, and that heartfelt squeeze only makes you break the weak dam you had built when you saw him come in, and you burst into endless weeping.

"I know baby, I know." That's all the blond man can manage to say to you, as he gets you up and carries you toward the bed, so you can lie down and take off your shoes, before coming close to you and holding you in his arms, until exhausted, you fall asleep safe in Dean's strong hold, while he whispers soothing words to you.

The next morning you wake up with the sun gently caressing your face from over Dean's shoulder. You smile for a second, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the other Winchester's arms, and soon after your heart, as if pierced by an arrow, bleeds at the memory of what happened last night. You get up, shifting your friend's arms, and go to the bathroom to wash and freshen up, when you hear the door to your room open, and a male voice, known even too well, shout to your still sleeping friend.

"Dean, wake up!" Sam yells, and you behind the door hold a hand over your heart, just imagining her beauty after her usual morning run to stay in shape. Her long dark hair tied back in a light bun, her forehead sweaty and muscles still tense from exertion.

"I'm awake, you asshole." Dean replies, as you hear him get up and go get some coffee. "You could have deigned to make less noise last damn night, you know there were people here who wanted to sleep."

You hear Sam snort at his brother's words, then respond to him in an aggressive, cold tone.

"Well then there are people who wouldn't want to see you run off to fuck wherever we go, hold hands all the time or make love wherever you are. And you know something else too Dean, I thought you were a better person. Why her? Come on you've had a lot of girls, and it wouldn't cost you anything to find a thousand more, why did you have to choose her!?" Says the younger brother, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

You close your eyes and try to control your breathing as you feel yourself lacking oxygen. You feel tears coming to your eyes, but you try with all your strength to push them back down. You take a few minutes to control your emotions as all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and scream until you can't hear yourself anymore, but you stay strong and open the door to see Dean immediately in front of you, looking pained and guilty, seeing your state.

"You didn't tell him." You say in a calm, quiet voice, not asking, but stating that your best friend had not told about his new relationship with our angel friend.

"I never found the right time." Dean tries to say, then looks down. "I never had the courage, every time I seemed to miss the words."

"Sam would never judge you, and you know that." You say as you feel a pang inside your heart, remembering the words the man you love had used a few minutes earlier. You feel your clothes sticking to your body like glue, too tight, so tight that you feel as if they have pre torn. You feel how the floor gives way under your feet, you feel how a billion eyes are on you ready to judge you, you feel something inside you break, but you can't let anyone but yourself see how mere words have hurt you, so you grit your teeth and continue to look at Dean stoically, as you feel a single and only tear escape down your face.

"I know, but I'm afraid in the same way, I don't want it to end like last time." Dean confesses, still looking at the floor, but crying clearly, as his words take you back to when you were nothing more than kids and he had come crying to you one night, confessing that he had fallen in love with a boy he had met during his last case, and that his father after finding out had beaten him so badly that his scars remained, and had forced him to watch pornographic movies, reminding him how "a real man acts." No one had ever seen you as angry as Dean, and Bobby when he heard you scream and came to watch that night as you swore to heaven that you would kill John Winchester. Dean had never told Sam about that episode, not wanting to worry him since he had just run away to study at Stanford, and asked you to do the same. It has been so long since that night, yet the memory of that pain and that man still frightens the wonderful person in front of you.

"But I swear I will. He has no right to think such things about you! I-I will tell him-" He begins to say, as he tries to wipe away the tears running copiously down his face. You, moved in turn and knowing that like you he too was remembering that fateful evening, take his face in your hands and bring his eyes to gaze fixedly into yours.

"No, you won't do it now, you will do it when you feel like it." You comment chuckling as you caress his face. He looks at you unconvinced and you see his inner battle inside whether to accept your proposal or to be as always too good and allow the world to kick him in the balls.

"Please be selfish for once. And if I serve as your cover, so be it, not that I would have had any chance with him anyway." You continue, smiling at him as you feel your heart slowly shatter. You see Dean ready to retort, but you have already disappeared back into the bathroom, crying silently. Once the bathroom door is closed, you stop to look at yourself in the mirror and realize how disgusted you feel about your body.

There is not a single thing about you that you like: your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your chest.

The more you look at yourself, the more you want to break that all-too-truthful mirror, which tells an unfiltered reality, a sad truth that for so long you had tried to ignore, but which now that Sam had spit it in your face you could no longer pretend not to see. So you decide at this very moment that everything was going to change, you don't know how, but it was going to happen.

So weeks go by, Sam still won't talk to you, and slowly you continue to sink into the stupid realization that he doesn't because only he, like you, can really see your body, and that he hates you for it, so now convinced that you have to change your body to be loved, you begin to eat less and less and more rarely, and what little you put in your mouth to make Dean happy, who sees you getting sadder and more tired, is rejected from your stomach just moments later when no one is looking at you. This situation hurts your body and your heart, but you do it so that you can look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to punch him, but things seem to get worse and worse. You look at yourself and you never fit, before you saw a body you didn't like, now beyond that you see a person you don't like.

Dean is getting more and more worried about you, seeing you getting paler and paler and thinner, but every time he tries to talk to you, you put on a smile and pretend that everything is going well and that the only reason your shirts now look huge on you is that you are working out more, but he knows that you never liked sports and that is why he knows you are lying to him. He tried to talk to Sam about what was going on, but all his brother managed to say by pouting was that if he needed relationship advice to go somewhere else and that he didn't want anything to do with the two of you.

Dean was on the verge of smashing the plate he was holding in his face and yelling at him to open his eyes and see that you love him more than Dean does right now and that he is fucking in love with their favorite angel, but then he had seen Castiel's face and knew he couldn't let him down after he asked him to keep a low profile and let as few people as possible know about their relationship.

Dean had never felt so lousy as deciding between the love of his life and a friend in need, but he knew that if you found out what he had done you would insult him, so he played it cool and moved on, as if nothing had happened, while he continued to try to take care of you, with little success.

It's been almost a month since Sam had said those horrible things, and you're not getting worse and worse, but in order not to show it in front of your friends, you keep doing the same things as before, trying to have the same cheerfulness.

You are now hunting a werewolf in a remote town in a state you don't even remember. Your body is weak, you haven't eaten anything Dean has brought you in the last three days taken at the various fast food restaurants and bars he had found along the way, and what little you had put in your mouth had gone down the drain shortly thereafter, hating yourself just for having the idea that you could eat something. You feel your eyelids as heavy as shutters, the muscles in your body are nonexistent, and what few are left ache from the mere effort of standing and walking, while your head throbs incessantly.

In this you are scouting around where the last victims had been killed, to see if you can find any more information, but so far you have not had much success, so you decided to split up.

You are barely holding the flashlight in your hand, too heavy for you, when you feel a sudden dizziness that forces you to lean against the wall. You stay a few minutes trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air around you, when you hear a noise coming from a short distance away from you, like a dog growling. With difficulty you open your eyes and see before you a sight that is frightening to say the least: the werewolf you were looking for is looking at you ravenously, while a dark laughter rumbles from his belly to his mouth. Quickly you try to pick up the phone to call Dean or Sam, but unfortunately your mind is so clouded that you can't even do simple things like this and the phone slips out of your hands to the monster's feet.

"The Winchesters' little friend!" He says, seeing who you were trying to contact. "I've heard a lot about you, among the monsters you are known as their true weakness: so small and helpless, you wouldn't even survive my bite, I'll do you a favor and eat your miserable heart." He continues as he gets closer, and you do whatever comes to your chin at this moment, as you feel death coming slowly but comfortingly too, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. You scream Sam and Dean's name as loud as you can, hoping that at least one of them can hear you, your lungs aching from how much breath you had to use and your throat burning from the effort as you feel your strength failing.

You lean back against the wall again, this time with your back, and let yourself slide down to the floor, as your vision goes completely black and your ears become plugged as when you go too deep underwater, and the world seems more and more distant. You have one last flicker of life before you pass out completely in that dark alley, at the mercy of that monster, and you hear Sam's voice call out your name for a moment.

Your heart loses a beat, and then completely dark.

You awaken with a jump and a gasp as you sit up on the bed on which someone has carried you. Your head immediately begins to spin like a spinning top, and your vision fails again as you feel a warm hand settle on your shoulder and bring you back to lie down.

"Relax, you're safe now. It's okay." Says in a low, soft tone a rough voice, leading back to Sam. You, shocked to know he is there next to you, open your eyes with difficulty and find yourself lying on the bed in your room, in the bunker, as you see him kneeling beside your bed. His face shows the weariness he feels, but in his eyes shines a strange hope as he looks at you mixed with sadness. You place your gaze on the rest of the room and see your favorite chair, where you usually sit to read your books or do your research when you are tired of sitting in the library, covered with blankets and pillows, making you realize that your favorite giant has been sleeping there for what seems to be even more than a couple of days, otherwise everything looks the same, unchanged, and strangely everything now seems to make more sense with the presence of Sam and some of his things in the room. Immediately you slap yourself in the face at that thought, reminding yourself that he hates you, and that the reason he is here is because Dean will have had better things to do than watch you sleep.

You're about to tell him that he can leave, and leave you alone, knowing that he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you, as he has shown recently, and that in case his brother asks you, you won't tell him, but he beats you to the punch and starts talking.

"First of all I want to say I'm sorry, you don't even know how much, and I certainly understand if you never forgave me in your life, because I wouldn't forgive myself." Sam says, as you see tears forming in his eyes. You try to stop him, confused as to why he was making that speech, but he stops you in turn and begs you to let him finish.

"We found you just in time, by "luck," if you can call it that, that asshole had decided to torture you a bit before eating your heart, and we got there before he could do it, but when Cas touched you to treat you he said he didn't know if you would survive anyway because your body was too weak since you hadn't eaten for too many days. Dean insulted me and even beat me up a bit before explaining the matter from his point of view." You can't help but widen your eyes, and Sam chuckles seeing your expression, as two tears run down his face, and he darkens a little again before continuing, without looking you in the eye.

"Yes, he also told me about Cas, and also about that affair with our father to make me understand why you decided to cover for him."

You close your eyes for a moment, expecting a series of insults, but you only feel his lips rest on your hand, so you open them again and see him leaning over the bed, as you feel his tears coming hot to contact your cold hand.

"Thank you." The boy confesses in a whisper. "Thank you for everything you did for Dean, thank you for always taking care of him when I couldn't or was too blind and stupid to, I don't deserve to have you in my life."

You can't find the words, and so you do the only thing you can think of this moment, and you take his hand and squeeze it, while barely smiling at him.

"We will always have helped each other, you remember. Then Dean will be your brother, but it's like he's my brother too." You say as you pull his face up and force him to look into your eyes. You see him cry even harder, a few sobs escaping his lips, as he squeezes your hand even tighter.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would always protect you, and instead I was so stupid and jealous that I didn't realize what I was doing." He tells you again, only to stop for a moment and look at you this time with a resolve he lacked until a few seconds ago. "Why did you stop eating? How come you covered your mirror in the bathroom? Dean found the remains of the one from before in the garage, thought you didn't like it and got a new one, so he changed it for you."

Immediately you remember, one night in a rage after looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, you had started punching it until it had become nothing but stardust under your bleeding fingers, and the next day when you had returned from your walk with the dog, you had found a new one, with a note from Dean who had said that seeing that you had taken it off, thinking that you didn't like it anymore, he had bought a new one, so realizing that you couldn't escape that vicious cycle and knowing that if it happened one more time it would arouse even more suspicion, you had simply covered it up, and hoped that no one would ever learn of that dirty secret, and instead, here it all was for all to see.

You look at Sam in those damned puppy-dog eyes of his, and burst into desperate weeping. He, seeing you in this state, instinctively picks you up and holds you in his arms.

"I disgust myself Sam." You finally manage to utter those damn words, and immediately you feel as if your soul lightens as you feel his arms grip your body even tighter as if you could disappear at any moment, and at the same time he does it with an innate delicacy, as if it were a precious crystal figurine that can be broken under his gaze. "I'm disgusted by my body, I'm disgusted by every single thing about me, and you're disgusted by it too, don't lie to me. I thought if I lost weight things would get better, but they don't, I feel worse and worse." You continue, while somehow trying to get away from him.

"In what sense would you disgust me? When would I have ever said such a thing?" He asks confusedly as he looks at you, tears have dried on his face. His eyes range and seem to want to imprint your every little detail in his memory. His gaze makes you blush as you try to find the words to tell him how his words have done nothing but unleash a storm that had long been locked up somewhere inside you and was just waiting to be released. So you take a deep breath and tell him everything, while he looks at you attentively and astonished, his arms still around his body, as if he needs reminding that you are there beside him, and that you are not just a product of his mind.

You tell him everything, every little thing you had felt hearing his words while you were locked in that damn bathroom, your feelings and emotions in the month to follow, along with all the thoughts and all the actions you had put in place in the hope that he would no longer hate you, and that maybe you would hate yourself less, too. He starts crying again, and hides his face in the crook of your neck.

You stay a few minutes clasped to each other, in silence, after you have poured your heart out in front of him, ready to suffer the consequences, when he takes your face in his hands and stares at you steadily with those chocolate-colored eyes of his, and for a moment you feel your breath short.

"Don't ever think of such a thing again. Never. You are perfect exactly as you are, there is nothing I would change about you, there is nothing I don't love about you." At his words you stand still, as if petrified, afraid that a single movement of yours could mean the breaking of this beautiful illusion. "Yes, I am tired of holding all this in, I love you, I love you so much that I am sick just thinking about not having you near me for a second, I love you so much that I would have been ready to kill my brother for stealing the girl I love all my life, I love you so much that I would be ready to climb the highest mountain in the world and scream it to everyone!" He continues as he stands up on the bed, and begins to move his arms quickly, just enough to make you laugh. At the sound of your laughter he turns to look at you, and smiles even more, to return next to you on his knees and cup your face in his hands. "I love every little, tiny thing about you madly. I'm crazy, crazy in love, and I was a fool because I was so convinced that getting away from you would be better for you, that I didn't realize that you were suffering because of me, and I'm sorry. On the one hand I would like to let you go and make you happy, but on the other hand I am an extremely selfish being and I only want you for myself." He continues as he rests his forehead on yours, whispering the last words. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

You look at him, and not even realizing what you are doing, you take his face in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The kiss you exchange arises as sweet and gentle, like two flames dancing in an elegant dance side by side, testing each other's reaction, in the same way your lips move over each other, slowly tasting that new sensation. You feel her soft lips caressing yours, until neither of you has a single breath left.

"I love you too if you hadn't realized it idiot." You comment making him laugh. "I love you, and for so long I would have preferred not to because it made me sick, yet I could do nothing but love you. The only reason that kept me alive was my love for you, even though it was also my poison." You continue by looking into his eyes, and you see the pain in his.

"If you forgive me, I will do everything to correct what I have done." He looks at you, with a penitent and pleading gaze, as he takes your hands in his, before you release one and place it on his right cheek, and he instinctively leans into your hands, seeking that simple contact.

"I've already forgiven you moron." She laughingly comments, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again, but this time the air in the room is different. The atmosphere becomes more erotic and intriguing. You feel his hands carefully explore your body, running his hands down your sides from your breasts to your butt, where he rests his large, warm hands, before slipping them under your T-shirt and caressing the skin of your back, making you shiver. You feel his hand rise higher and higher to the level of your bra and undo the hook that held it, but then he stops. Parting your lips he looks into your eyes for a second.

"If you don't feel up to it it's perfectly fine honey, we can stop here-"Sam says unsure, but you stop him.

"Afraid it's too much for you Winchester?" You ask as you raise your eyebrows, and see him smile, before resting his lips on yours, then creating a trail of kisses from your mouth to the chest exposed by the shirt you are wearing, down your neck.

"God, how I've missed you." He comments between kisses, but then stops again and looks at you seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't kidding myself, if you don't feel comfortable we can stop here."

You look at him, in his eyes only the pure affection and love you feel for him, and then put an end to all his doubts.

"I want to do it Sam." You say in a whisper as you take the bottom of his shirt with your hands and slowly slip it off, thus also dropping the bra he had unfastened a few minutes ago. "I want to do it with you Sam."

He looks at you and doesn't let you tell him twice, and he resumes his attack on your neck, leaving obvious signs of his passage, and then moves on to your breasts.

"God, you're perfect." He whispers before teasing one of your nipples. You moan softly at that sensation, feeling his teeth clench, his lips kiss and his tongue lick every single inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess, a queen, tasting every inch of your skin.

This wonderful moment is interrupted, however, by the unannounced entrance of Dean, who, seeing the scene of his brother splayed across your body as he kisses your breasts, and with one hand explores the rest of your body, while you clutch his long hair in your hands, moaning his name shamelessly, lets out a small scream, before closing the door again.

"Damn you guys could warn." Comments the older brother, as Sam with speed grabs a blanket to cover you.

"Should we announce? You're the one who entered the room unannounced!" Sam replies in turn, making an expression that makes you laugh. "You can still come in now jerk."

"Bitch." Dean retorts, to open the bedroom door again and have a stupid grin plastered on his face. "So, I see Sam hasn't exactly figured out how to talk and resolve a situation, usually the mouth should be free to talk, not busy sucking-"

"You try to say one more Winchester word and I'll tell everyone about Christmas with Cindy McWood." You threaten him, and see him whiten, before his smile returns to its former self.

"Well what can I say in that case guys, good conversation and be sure to use protection, I'm not ready to be an uncle." He says closing the door behind him, then opening it again. "Not that I wouldn't make a great uncle, but I would say I'm too young and then-"

"Out!" You and Sam scream in unison, and the only thing Dean does is give you the finger before walking away. The two of you stand still for a moment weighing what just happened and burst out laughing, before Sam's lips find yours again.

"Where were we?" He asks you next, and you can't help but smile and moan at feeling his lips on you again.

It's shaping up to be a very interesting night, long but interesting, and you know that in the end maybe by tomorrow morning you can slowly look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of the man you love behind you supporting you.

TAGLIST

@supernatural-lvr @itzdarling @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @evansstan-akya

[wrr000]

"Can you be quiet for five minutes?"

AN: hello! i wrote this for fun, it's nothing serious or special, i just needed to do something with myself. hope y'all will enjoy it anyway lol (also, i had that one scene from shrek 2 in mind)

»»————-　♡　————-««

Summary: the night wasn't peaceful for the ghoul because reader talks too much

Warnings: english is not my first language; reader is female; it was supposed to be more of a comedic oneshot; a lot of inner thoughts

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«

The night was getting cold. Chilly air mixed with the pleasant warmth emanating from the fire, touching your red cheeks. It was a nice feeling, especially after a whole day of walking in the brutal heat. The sun was killing you and the night was a nice change.

'I fucking hate wasteland', you thought to yourself every day.

Burning sun, disgusting monsters, crazy raiders or even that ghoul, literally everything could kill you any minute. It was hard to survive out there alone ans you knew that. Maybe that was a reason why you didn't ran away from him yet.

"So...", you couldn't stand the silnce anymore, "are you gonna finally untie me?"

You sat by the bonfire with your legs pressed to your chest, staring into the sparkling flames. Hands still tightly tied, of course. The other end of the lasso held the ghoul whom you met a few days ago.

He was sitting on the other side of the fire, leaning against a huge piece of something wooden. He looked like he was sleeping with a cowboy hat covering his face. The ghoul wasn't like anyone you've met before, but you weren't sure if it was a blessing or a curse. He did tied you up after all and have gave you no choice, but to travel with him to God-knows-where. On the positive side - he didn't killed you. And that was something unexpected.

"Hellooo..? Did you hear me, Mr. Ghoul?", you never called him like that before, but you wanted any interaction.

No response. Was he really sleeping or just pretending that he didn't hear you?

It was in his style, to be honest. Ever since you met him, he seemed cold, selfish, like he doesn't care about anything else in the world but him. Sometimes straight up annoying, sometimes kinda funny and nice in a twisted way. These mixed feelings made you somewhat intrigued.

"Listen lady" , he didn't looked at you. "I need some peace and quiet so no stupid questions or talkin', got it?"

"Oh, come on! We have been travelling for days! I'm not gonna do anything stupid", it was this time when he was just annoying as hell.

"I bet you won't, sweetheart", you knew he smirked under that stupid hat.

"So what, are you gonna keep me like this to what? Sell me for chems? Or eat me one day?", you spoke once again. "You know, both options are pretty problematic for you because, I mean, you are really planning to sell skinny, dehydrated girl and hoping for decent payment?", fake scoff escaped your mouth. "Keep dreaming. I am way more useful as a compa-"

By anything stupid you meant something like killing him or running away. First of all, he was very skilled and you knew that attacking him was suicidal mission. Second of all, you could try to escape, but you didn't know if it was even possible with this man and did you really wanted to?

On one hand, there were plenty ways for him to hurt you. Shooting, beating, selling, starving you to death or worse - eating you alive. It was something... common on the wasteland. People were doing everything to survive and as crazy as it sounded, you understood it, the ghoul knew it as well. But on the other hand, after raiders killed your parents, life became harder than before. You hated it and what you hated more was loneliness. You had none, no friend and no family left. Maybe it was delusional, but you hoped for befriending the ghoul and travel with him for a little longer. Or maybe he could help you made it to town where you could stay. In that situation you didn't have many options (it didn't work by force anyway) to consider or anything to lose, to be honest.

"Oh, for fu-", he straightened up, finally looking at you.

You didn't have many opportunities to meet him face to face and take a closer look. Beautiful eyes spoke more than thousand words, that's for sure. The most noticeable thing was the lack of a nose, but aside that the face was handsome. You could imagine how he looked like before the ghoulification. In fact, you always thought that people were exaggerating with their disgust towards non-feral ghouls. They were still humans, right?

"You asked me a milion questions already, while I couldn't ask you one", you heard the irritation in his voice. "You better don't cross the line"

That silence was overhelming. Sure, the sound of camfire was nice, but your thoughts were getting weirder and weirder. You needed something to occupy your mind and because you weren't the best at small talk (or starting a conversation at all) you came up with the stupidest idea.

Classic threating. You rised your tided hands, palms facing him in surrender. It wasn't the right time to ask about the future and you didn't wanna cross the line, at least not that night. He was looking at you for a moment, making sure you wouldn't ask anything else and returned to his previous position.

You stared at him, trying to figure out what he was thinking about and you couldn't read him. Not before, not now and probably not in the near future. He seemed like he could always read your mind while being completely unpredictable to you. What he thought about you? What was his plan? You should be very scared or just scared? Many questions were running in your head, but you couldn't find answer for none.

"What it's like to be a ghoul?", you mentally slapped yourself, but there was no turning back now. "I mean, how did you become a ghoul? It was quick or it was a long process? My parents never told me much about ghouls"

Deep, long sigh escaped his mouth. He looked at you again, not bothering to move his body. Even someone like him lacked words and strength for you.

"Did someone ever told that you talk so much?", a ghost of a smile crept across his face.

"Actually, yes, my father told me that once", you smiled proudly.

"No lesson learned", you quite enjoyed his harsh voice with strange accent. He definitely didn't talk enough. "Can you be quiet for five minutes?"

"Hm, I'm afriad no, Mister", then it striked you. "I don't know your name! I won't shut up until you will told me your name. Wait, you do have a name, right?"

"Yes", you felt annoyed again by his lack of cooperation.

"Well..? You know my name, even you don't use it, may I know yours?"

"Cooper", the ghoul hide his face under the hat again. "Now, let me rest for a while, will ya?"

Bright smile appeared on your face. That was what you called a progress. It was genuinely a cool name and suddenly you started to wonder if he liked yours.

"But...", you heard a growl from under the hat, "we will talk about what to do next? I know how things works out here, but... We don't have to be enemies. I know you want to survive and I don't wanna be your prisoner forever"

You were on thin ice and for the first (and not last) time in your life you couldn't gather your thoughts. You wanted to tell him a lot of things in one go.

"I'm not your enemy, sweetheart, you don't have to worry. Now sleep or I'll have to shoot that pretty face"

You noded quietly. You knew that tomorrow you would try to talk to him again, still hoping for some sort of cooperation or agreement. Your life was on the line, after all. Not to mention that he called you pretty and even another threat couldn't take it away from you. Maybe that was the sign that he doesn't mean no harm to you, there was a hope, at least.

[we-stan-cale]

I want to hear about your favorite moments in TCF.

I have a long list, but I'll start with one that I don't hear people talk about much - Cale's conversation with Lock and Raon the night before the battle at the gorge.

First, I absolutely love how Cale handled Lock here. Lock is feeling like a failure, guilty, a coward - a whole bunch of negative things because he's no longer able to use his berserk transformation, and he thinks it's because he's afraid.

Cale - acts normal. It's hard to describe what that means, or why it matters. He just doesn't make a big deal out of it. Not like he's dismissing Lock's fears, but also not like he thinks Lock needs to be reassured.

This is right after Lock told Cale he couldn't go berserk. Rosalyn is also there, and the 'she' it starts with.

She heard a quiet voice at that moment. Pat. “Why is a young boy like you so skinny?” Rosalyn could see Cale pat Lock on the back before heading toward the tent entrance. Cale opened up the flap in order to exit as he looked toward Lock. “Let’s go.”

Cale just... Doesn't respond to the fear, but does show care and concern. And just treats Lock like normal (except in this case that's not really normal).

He then basically gets Lock to focus on the here and now, so Lock won't go into that headspace where he keeps feeling like he's a failure. He's preventing Lock from spiraling as he keeps thinking about what a failure he is.

Cale started to speak as soon as the young boy stopped right in front of him. “Focus on my back. Follow behind me and don’t think about anything else.”

And then he invites Lock to dinner. Just Lock, Raon, and Cale. Cale lets Lock talk, and then said something I absolutely love:

Lock’s mumblings stopped as soon as Cale asked a question. “Would you throw me away if I was weak?” “What-” Something like that was unbelievable. Lock throw Cale away? Lock’s eyes opened wide in shock as Cale smiled back at him. “Lock, you wouldn’t, right?” Cale picked his fork back up. “So, don’t ask something so obvious. Just eat.”

I love my progression fantasy, but the protagonists in those stories almost always have the same solution for every problem - get stronger.

To hear the protagonist say something like this is just so refreshing. Like - your worth is not tied up with being strong. You are a worthwhile person even if you can't destroy a wall with one punch. You wouldn't throw away someone else just because they were weak, so why are you being so hard on yourself?

And Raon hearing this leads into the final part, the conversation they have as they prepare for bed.

“By the way, human.” “What is it?” Cale made eye contact with the six-years-old Dragon who stopped connecting the device and looked toward him. Raon looked at Cale and asked. “I cannot go through my first growth phase. Is that okay?” ...

“Didn’t I answer that last time? Don’t ask me something so obvious.” “…Is it okay if I am weak?”

...

“Raon, although I am weaker than you, I’ve lived at least thirty, no, fifteen years more than you. But I am still weaker than you. I am not even as strong as you front paw. Is that a problem?” Cale realized his mistake and quickly changed the years before looking at Raon. “It is not a problem at all.”

There's more, but I've already copied enough so if you want to read the rest you should just go check that chapter out.

The thing here is that Raon, who was supposed to go through his first growth phase, couldn't. It now looks like he was afraid of how weak and vulnerable he would be during that.

And Cale, dense though he can be, perfectly reassures Raon.

Now if only that lovely, dense and yet wise man could treat himself with a fraction of the consideration he shows everyone else.

[simplymarr]

Chapter one.

summary: vincent renzi x fem!reader.

A young law student is navigating her last year in university, where she meets a misteryous french professor that is going to help her getting her thesis done. A strong chemistry and a love for books and hard work it's what gets them to work so well with each other. But how much are they going to resist when temptation arrives?

warnings: age gap (legal ofc) he's 43 and she's 26. Other that that, none (yet).

London. 8 am and a room full of people on a rainy day. Cold fingers on the desk, waiting for something to happen.

I looked over and the clock was still; maybe it was broken or maybe the time was way too slow in the morning. Even for me.

Today it was the last-first day i was going to have on that university. Five long years studying law, yet it felt like i was still a stranger in that big, cold classroom.

I was, finally, going to get my thesis done. No more wasting time, no more fear. I had to be strong.

How difficult could it be?

The world with its unique, hidden irony seemed to have answered my question when, all of a sudden, he walked through that old, wooden door.

Mature, maybe in his early forties. Tall but not too much; quite skinny. Long neck and serious countenance. Silver hair, some strands fell on his forehead as he walked across the room until he reached his desk. His polished clothes didn't look wet even though it was raining, and even for me to be so far away from him i could, somehow, sense that he smelled like cigarrettes and old fashioned, classic cologne.

Professor Vincent Renzi was his name.

He came from France. He said that he had recently won a case in the city, and that a colleague of his needed him to replace him for a few months at the university. A two-hour weekly class and, most importantly,

he was in charge of correcting some of the theses.

I hesitated the rest of the class, unsure of what was going to happen. Would he be easy on me? or would he be an idiot? After all, all male professors in law school seemed to treat women like they were not smart enough to be there. Or worse, like they fucked their way to the top.

Suddenly my feet stepped on earth again when i felt a deep voice making, in a strong french accent, a question that no one dared to answer.

"So, has anyone already started working on their thesis?"

Silence.

Then, for inertia or maybe an obscure, unconscious desire to be seen by his blue eyes i raised my hand.

He smiled at me; perhaps relieved that he hadn't been ignored. Little wrinkles formed on each side of his mouth as he spoke:

"Great, at least someone is doing their job. Now, enlighten me, please".

........................................

I tried to leave as soon as the class ended.

Maybe it was the shame, the blushed cheeks as i explained to him the central themes of the thesis. For the first time, i felt like my tongue wasn't mine as the words kept coming out of my mouth, but i felt grateful for that.

However, due to how far away i was from the exit, i was the last one to leave. I slid between each seat until i reached the door where, luckily for me, he was standing, waiting.

"That was good. Very good actually". He said as he reached out for a pack of cigarettes between his pockets.

I stuttered.

"Well, thank you. There's still some issues i need to fix, you know. References and stuff". I tried, without luck, to sound as calm as possible.

"That's why im here". He said, staid but in a soft tone.

As he left the building and got into his car, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and lighting a cigarette, i couldn't help but wonder

what the hell was i getting into.

next chapter soon

[cannabiscomrade]

This is a hurdle I’ve been seeing a lot lately now that I’m learning more about tubie life but

Fat people can require feeding tubes

Fat people can be malnourished

Fat people are deserving of enteral/parenteral nutrition and the current standard of qualifying for alternate nutrition often demands that fat people face a more extreme depletion of nutrition before they’re given the same interventions as mid-size and skinny people. One of the determinations of tube placement is involuntarily losing 5-10% of your body weight within 6 months, which can be a significant impact for someone whose starting weight is 220lbs vs 120lbs. Starvation can still send the body into metabolic acidosis/starvation ketoacidosis long before the bigger person hits that 5-10% lost threshold.

Weight loss/diet culture compounds with this because any weight lost by a fat person is often seen as a “good” thing and not documented as a medical problem or a negative symptom. I lost so much weight before my tube was placed that I am now mid-size, and it has already had an impact on my treatment. Most nurses and other healthcare providers are now shocked that I’ve lost over 60lbs in a few months, instead of congratulatory. I’m no longer “looking great”, I “look sick”. Despite that, I still had another nurse look at me and say “you look like you can eat and drink, why do you have a feeding tube?” Sorry- I didn’t know you could just look at me and determine that, considering my stomach is paralyzed.

Enteral feeding is also not even developed to be accessible for larger people. G/GJ tubes have approximately 10cm of tube designed for use inside the body (stoma). Fat people sometimes need to move straight to total parenteral nutrition because the devices themselves lack accessibility. TPN is associated with higher risks than enteral feeding and is often used as a “last resort”, but yet a lot of larger people don’t have another option.

[abiiors]

sold to the 1975 😔✊🏼

a/n: i spent way too much fucking time on this and literally no one deserves to be subjected to this yet here we are. GOODBYE. (this is my legacy...)

when i open my eyes in the morning, the world feels different. the birds don’t chirp like they usually do, the sky is grey and leaves on the tree outside seem wilted and dead. still i drag myself out of my bed and trudge to the bathroom. 

the bags under my eyes are pronounced—a result of cleaning up after my mother when she returns home from her late night clubbing sessions. my lifeless blue orbs (🔵👄🔵) stare back at me. there’s no spark in them anymore… i used to be the curious girl who found beauty in everything. now… i can barely look at myself in the mirror. 

a heavy thudding on the door interrupts my depressive spiral. 

“autumn raine! open this door right now,” my mother slurs, mixing up her words and the syllables of my name and—

“have you died in there?”

the banshee shriek gets me moving. i toss my hair in a messy bun and throw on an old band t-shirt—radiohead, my own little inside joke since no one else seemed to know the band. other girls my age fawned over taylor swift and boys who barely looked old enough to be in high school. i felt like an old soul. 

“autumn!” another sharp rap on the door. “we have guests.”

guests? at 8 am? that piques my curiosity. 

“coming!” i reply and shimmy into my skinny jeans. 

i open my door and come face to face with my mother’s fuming nostrils. if my situation weren’t so pathetic and sad i’d almost find it funny. 

she takes my arm in a vice-like grip and smiles an ugly smile. 

“what have i done to be cursed with a child like you, huh? you couldn’t dress up even for today.”

“why, what’s—”

“hush now!” she chides, “go put on some lipstick and meet me downstairs in two minutes.”

she pushes my back into my room and shuts the door before i can tell her that i don’t own any make up. the most i can find is some tinted lip balm and old, crusty mascara. the only jewellery i can find is the heart shaped necklace from my dead father, so i quickly put it on. between that and my tattered old converse, i feel like the prettiest girl in the world. 

i roll my eyes at my sarcasm and make my way downstairs. 

the stairs creek in a familiar way and i don’t even notice that something feels way out of the ordinary until it’s too late. 

i don’t even notice the four men sitting on our torn old sofa until i’m right in front of them. 

my mother looks at me with a saccarine smile. “be a darling and make some tea for our guests, autumn.”

“no, that won’t be necessary,” one of them cuts in and for the first time i look at them properly. 

the one who’d just spoken is smaller in comparison to the other three. his arms are littered with tattoos, his hair curly and going in every possible direction. his eyes look hard and cold and brown. 

the other three nod in unison. 

“we need to finish the transaction and get going,” he speaks again and mother pales slightly. 

the…transaction?

“of course,” she smiles a fake smile and wrings her hands together. 

“i’m sorry, what’s—”

“autumn!” i shut up the instant she glares at me. i know that look. don’t speak until you’re spoken to. 

“you haven’t told her?” the other one speaks up. his voice is much deeper than his friend’s. his whole vibe is more intense than the rest of them. he’s all sharp cheekbones and bleached, buzzed hair and chipped nail polish. not a man of many words but something tells me people listen when he speaks. 

“i… of course i h-have,” my mother stutters and throws me a look. “she knows, don’t you, sweetheart? tell me.”

tell them what?! 

my heart hammers in my chest and i try to swallow the dryness away. “y-yes. i know”

all at once four pairs of striking orbs are on me and i blush from the intensity of their gazes. (🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🟤👄🟤 🔵👄🔵) all the attention in the room is on me and with horror i realise they expect me to speak further. 

“she t-told me,” i stutter out and smile at my mother who looks like she’s swallowed a lemon. 

“and did she tell you who we are?”

i think about nodding again but there’s no way i can fib this. the truth it i’ve never seen these men before in my entire life. all i know is that if i went along with my mother’s lie, things might be good for me. even if it’s temporary. 

hesitantly, i shake my head. 

“we are the 1975,” the curly-haired man speaks and i cock my head to the side. what an odd little name… “and you’ve been sold to us.”

—

“sold?!” i screech as soon as they’re out of earshot. 

“ungrateful bitch,” she hisses back, “keep your voice down! i’ve taken care of you for twenty years and this is how you repay me?” 

“taken care—TAKEN CARE OF ME?” i bellow, unable to keep it down anymore. “all you did was drown yourself in a bottle of wine every night and left your child alone to take care of everything on her own. and now you’re asking me to repay you?!”

“don’t act like you’re a special little gem. the girl down the street was sold to five people last year and she went without any complains.”

my blood boils at the mention of her. lila rose… the girl down the street. no one had heard from her in a year and no one cared enough to find out anything. 

“don’t bring her into this,” i retort. the air around me feels charged and my entire body feels alive. never in my life have i talked to my mother like this before and now that i do, i feel… alive. 

i laugh at the irony. the most free i have ever felt in my life is after being sold to four men i do not know. 

my mother’s hand raises above her head and i know what’s coming—won’t be the first time she’s slapped me. the air around me shifts with the force of it and i flinch away, tightly closing my eyes. i brace myself for a slap… that never comes. 

slowly, bewildered, i open i eyes and come face to face with a… back? 

“you will not touch our property,” the man speaks and this is the first time i hear his voice. 

he’s impossibly tall, perhaps the tallest among them all. half his face is covered in a beard and his hair is tied up in a neat bun. and even when i’m offended at being called their “property”, i can’t help but feel a flutter in my stomach. 

he saved me from getting hurt. 

“o-of course,” my mother stutters. “i was just—”

“you were just…?”

he scoffs when she cannot answer and turns to look at me. 

for the first time i’m truly aware of just how big he is, just how he towers over me. the difference in our size leaves me speechless, and i tuck my hair behind my ears and flutter my lashes up at him. 

he smiles. “you have thirty minutes. go pack.”

—

back in my room a sense of sadness hits me for the first time. 

there’s nothing in this house that i’m going to particular miss, apart from my stack of secondhand paperbacks that is…

i thumb through the pages one last time and say goodbye knowing my mother won’t hesitate to use them as kindling the moment i’m gone. not like she’s ever read a book in her life… all she knows how to do is drink, party, cake her face with make up and obsess over men. 

i stuff my clothes into a tattered old duffel bag. there’s no make up i need to pack, just my favourite books and vinyl, if they even let me use them wherever they’re taking me. 

almost on dot, once my thirty minutes are up, the curly haired man from before enters my room. his lip curls in barely concealed disgust as he looks around my room—at the peeling wallpaper and the jane austen bedsheets on my bed, at the random niche band posters that i don’t expect him to know about (oasis, blur, arctic monkeys etc) but he’s gentle when he takes a hold of my hand. 

“let’s go, autumn raine.” he says and i refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. instead, i square my shoulders and blink my tears away. 

and then i close the door to my bedroom for the last time. 

autumn raine ↑ if you even care

[zapreportsblog]

Like an underweight reader that’s just self conscious and she moves to Forks, and as soon as she walks into class Edward can hear all of her self-doubt thoughts and like it’s an overwhelming amount.

❝perfectly imperfect❞

✭ pairing : Edward Cullen x reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is the new girl in Forks Highschool, she is extremely self conscious when it comes to her appearance and Edward Cullen - a boy she happens to be sitting next to on the first day of school notices just how self conscious she seems to be, but maybe it has to do with the face he can hear her thoughts

✭ authors note : I am in no way shape or fork making fun of skinny individuals when I write this story, I am not weight shaming or skinny shaming. All topics in this story cover real issues that individuals across the world face nor am I making light of the situation, but what I am in fact doing is bringing a concerning topic to light and writing on it

✭ twilight masterlist

(Y/N) had always been the new girl. It seemed like every few years, her life took her to a different place, a different town. And now, she found herself in the small, rainy town of Forks. She had moved there with her family, seeking a fresh start after yet another series of changes.

Her first day at Forks High School was both exciting and nerve-wracking. She was determined to make a good impression, but her own insecurities lingered in the back of her mind. As she walked through the halls, she couldn't help but feel out of place, surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

"Stay confident, (Y/N)," she whispered to herself.

Despite her internal pep talk, those nagging thoughts persisted. She felt too skinny, her clothes hung on her slender frame, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to lose weight. It was a constant battle against her own self-doubt.

Her first real challenge came in science class. She found herself paired with a strikingly handsome boy with unruly bronze hair and piercing eyes—Edward Cullen. As they settled into their seats, (Y/N)'s mind raced with unkind thoughts about herself, thoughts she would never dare say aloud.

“I'm too fat," she thought. "I should eat less. I need to look better in this dress. Why can't I be like the other girls?"

Unbeknownst to her, Edward had a secret. He had the ability to hear the thoughts of those around him, and her self-deprecating thoughts echoed loudly in his mind. He frowned, concerned by the harshness of her internal dialogue.

Before (Y/N) could dwell further on her negative thoughts, Edward leaned in and spoke softly, "You know, you look really nice in that dress."

Her thoughts came to a screeching halt, and her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was as if he had plucked her innermost thoughts from her mind. "Uh, thank you," she stammered, caught off guard by his compliment.

Edward smiled warmly, trying to put her at ease.

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time that day, she felt a glimmer of self-acceptance. Maybe Forks wouldn't be so bad after all. As she exchanged a shy smile with Edward, she couldn't help but wonder if this small town held the promise of acceptance and maybe even a bit of happiness. (Y/N) decided to skip lunch that day, as she often did. Her nagging thoughts about her appearance still lingered, convincing her that skipping meals was the path to perfection.

She watched her classmates chatting and enjoying their lunches, while she sat alone at an empty table, lost in her own thoughts.

Just as she was about to convince herself that she wasn't hungry, a sudden voice interrupted her reverie. "Hey there, mind if we join you?" It was Alice Cullen, the petite and energetic classmate of hers, known for her vibrant personality and impeccable fashion sense.

(Y/N) blinked in surprise but quickly managed a polite smile. "Oh, not at all. Please, have a seat."

Alice and her adoptive siblings, Edward and Jasper, settled in, their lunch trays laden with an assortment of delicious-smelling food. (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a pang of hunger at the sight and scent of it all, but she held firm to her belief that she needed to be skinny.

Alice, ever perceptive, noticed that (Y/N) had nothing on her tray. "Not hungry?" she asked, her golden eyes filled with curiosity.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before replying, "I ate a big breakfast, so I'm good."

Edward, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up, his tone gentle. "Are you sure? You didn't grab much for lunch. Here, have half of my Caesar chicken wrap." He pushed the plate toward her, offering a generous slice.

(Y/N) hesitated again, torn between her desire to fit in and her fear of consuming too many calories. She politely declined, saying, "No, thank you. I'm really not hungry."

Edward persisted, a playful glint in his eyes. "Come on. It's just a little taste. I insist, especially since I didn't see you grab much for lunch."

Alice chimed in with a grin, "Lunch is the most important meal of the day, after all."

Edward rolled his eyes playfully. "That's breakfast dope.”

(Y/N) couldn't help but giggle at their playful bickering. Their warmth and kindness were breaking through the walls she had built around herself. Maybe, just maybe, she could allow herself to enjoy a meal without feeling guilty. She took the offered half of the chicken wrap, her heart feeling a little lighter as she joined the Cullen family for lunch.

A few weeks had passed since (Y/N) first met the Cullen siblings, and while their presence had begun to chip away at the walls she had built around herself, old habits die hard. She still found herself skipping meals occasionally, even as Edward and his siblings extended their kindness by sharing their lunches with her.

One fateful day, as (Y/N) grappled with her inner demons at home, she succumbed to the overwhelming weight of her thoughts. The familiar feelings of self-doubt and self-loathing washed over her, and in a moment of despair, she resorted to self-harm. It was a cry for help, a physical manifestation of the pain she had carried for so long.

The episode landed her in the hospital, where she lay in a sterile, unfamiliar room. The hours passed in a blur until Edward appeared at her bedside, his expression filled with concern rather than judgment.

He gently took her hand and asked, "Why, (Y/N)? Why did you do this to yourself?"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to find the words. "Ever since I was a child, my parents... they were always obsessed with my weight. I was a bit overweight when I hit the triple digits before I even turned ten. And I came close to 215 when I was thirteen. They forced me to work out, try every diet under the sun, and the starvation... it just became a part of my daily routine."

Edward's heart ached as he listened to her painful confession. He knew that her experiences had left deep scars, both physically and emotionally. "What you're doing to yourself isn't healthy, (Y/N)," he said softly. "You deserve better than this."

(Y/N) broke down into tears, the weight of her years of suffering finally overwhelming her. Edward didn't hesitate; he pulled her into a comforting embrace, offering her a safe haven in his arms.

"It's going to get better," he whispered soothingly. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore. You have me now."

Her sobs began to subside, and she looked up at Edward with watery eyes. His unwavering support and understanding were like a lifeline in the darkness she had been trapped in for so long.

"How?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Because," Edward replied, his golden eyes filled with sincerity, "we'll face this together. You're not alone, (Y/N). We'll heal your heart and body, one step at a time."

[the0racl30fd3lphi]

More than friends, definitely more than lovers x.t. (pt3)

a/n: here is the third and (maybe) final part. y'all ate this up and really loved the first two, and for that i am so thankful for you all! so please, enjoy.

pairing: xavier thorpe x gn!reader

summary: nevermore's favorite tortured couple seems to be back on the mends, the only question, will it work out? are they going to make it through or are they only going to make it worse?

warnings: fluff, angst, love triangle (kinda) light swearing? not much tho, suggestive themes

word count: 2,365

part 1 part 2

——————————————————————————

"Hey," he smiled. The way he looked at you made your heart flutter. It was if he couldn't believe you were really there. Like he dreamed of this moment, and now that he has it, he truly couldn't comprehend if it was actually real or not. But it was. And his heart soared at that thought.

Standing there, you made no move to speak. You were waiting for him to say anything first. You wouldn't let yourself fall on your knees for him like your mind told you too. So you looked up right into his eyes, using every method you knew to make him bend to your will.

"Don't give me that look," For the one time in almost a month he looked way from you first.

"What look?" You played dumb.

"That one!" he threw one of his hands up and shook his head. "The one that makes me want to crawl at your feet and start.. begging." He still looked down as he ran his hands through his hear and went to grab for a hair tie. At his point he needed to get all the hair out of his face before he went to rip it all out.

"That sounds pretty nice actually, you should beg." You crossed your arms trying to keep in your anger, whatever was keeping him from apologizing was running your patience thin.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Xavier kept his head down but kept fiddling with the rings that adorned his slender fingers. "I was an asshole. You deserved much more than what I gave you. The last thing I should've done was.. what I did."

He was hesitant to actually acknowledge that he ignored you, his best friend of years, for a girl who genuinely gave him little to zero attention, got him arrested and imprisoned, and who wasn't actually into him after she led him on for so long.

"Oh yes and please, remind what it was that you did?" Now your anger was quite literally smoke blowing out of your ears. You missed this guy? He's wanted this little meeting for so long and he can't even commit to it.

"Well I-" He stuttered.

"Oh my god you can't even admit to it! You make me so frustrated!" You were yelling straight in his face now.

"Like, sexually?" This skinny little twink had the audacity to make a joke about your rage and start laughing at his own jokes.

"Why did I even entertain this stupid idea.." You pushed your headphones back onto your head and started for the stairs.

"Okay wait, wait hold up!" Xavier grabbed onto your arm and pulled you back towards him. With one slick movement he pulled them down to rest around your neck, and slid his hands down your arms to grab your hands. He stroked the back of your hands with thumbs smoothly.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you like that. I ignored you, abandoned you, treated you so horribly for how much more you actually deserve. So please, if you find me deserving," Xavier got down on one knee, hand still in yours, and looked up at you with those big green eyes. "Forgive me, lets go back to what we were, and I will be forever at your mercy."

"Wow. Poetic. You write now?" You tilted your head at him and raised your brows so far, they almost disappeared into your hair. But the corners of your mouth can't help but lift.

"I dabble," his smile grew four times as large and made your stomach flip, in the good way.

"How about you dabble in being a better friend?" You laughed and pulled him up by the hand he was still holding. You weren't sure if he still realized but neither of you had let go yet.

Playfully, and to diffuse some of the lingering tension, you lightly shoved him and walked back up the stairs to leave this spooky little library. He laughed and followed after quickly, skipping two steps as he jumped up the stairs.

"Aye aye, captain."

——————————————————————————

It'd been a week since you and Xavier started talking again, he was attached at your hip. He worshiped the ground you walked on and to an extent it was hilarious. Beyond that you ate it up. This was as close to the attention you have craved from him for years as you were gonna get.

"See, now at this point I don't know if he's whipped or if you are," Val rolled from her desk, all the way to you at yours. One look at the polaroid's littered all over your desk, extra drawings, some pinned while some hidden, and soon she gagged.

"Shut up," You pushed her head off your shoulder but you couldn't push the smile off your face. Your eyes couldn't leave the most recent polaroid pinned on your mirror, written underneath "idiots in love" because Val thought she was the funniest bitch in the world. The photo itself was from a movie night you had with the whole group. Xavier and you had fallen asleep on the couch, not that close to each other, but close enough to have reached for each other subconsciously. Ajax snapped the photo and after your best friend wrote all over it he gave it to you later when people weren't paying attention and everything had died down.

"Why don't you just tell him you love him?" Val grabbed a pen from your desk and start drawing all over your hand and your forearm.

"I just got him back, I can't lose him again." You sighed and pushed up your sleeve and gave her more access room. Val stopped short for a minuet to look up into your eyes. She could read you like a poorly written magazine. It was in your eyes, everything she needed to know.

The desperation, the longing, the aching, she had to take a softer approach with you otherwise you'd break. Not that you were fragile, but you were.

"Sometimes you have to take risks, you'll never know if you don't try babe." Her hand came up to hold and stroke your cheek, "You should try. Isn't the risk of a love so great it'd go down in history, worth it?"

And it was if your love was a force so large, bound by gravity's thick lasso, you were pulled towards him. Unable and unwilling to stop yourself.

"Yeah, it is."

——————————————————————————

You realized some new things after talking to Val that night. Love made you poetic, you were up all night thinking about how your words were not your own, but merely fragments of the words he had given your soul to sing.

Oh god you were pathetic. So you did the only levelheaded thing you could do, tell Xavier everything and be rational later.

He was in his art shed late at night, music quietly pushing through the walls and finding their way thought every crevice. You pounded on the door and waited for him to open the door. You fiddled with the scarf that rested around your neck while you waited. After not hearing anything for a while you knocked again, louder this time.

Soon enough he opened the door and turned down the music when he saw you, "Hey, what's up?" He grabbed your hand and pulled you through the doorway and close it behind you.

"Xavier, look-" You cut yourself off after taking a glace around the shed. There was a painting, or a charcoal sketch, or a character study of you. Everywhere. Every 3 square feet, to be exact. "It's me?"

He laughed nervously, "Uh yeah." A hand came up to scratch and then readjust his still wet hair. "The distance kinda drove me mad, and you were some good inspiration." One new thing and your relationship with Xavier, he told you everything now. Full, and total, transparency. The music kept playing in the background and the low lighting provided the most insane ambiance for the possibly stupid decision you were about to make.

"Xavier I need to tell you something," You shed your scarf and sweater and placed it on the nearest chair. "It's really important." You looked into his eyes and all the words seemed to have magically left your mind, as well as all logical thought.

The way he was looking at you, sat on the edge of a nearby desk, arm propped up behind him to keep him steady. "Mhm?" He asked so innocently it drove you mad.

"I love you." You bit the bullet and spouted all the words that had been building up for quite literal ages. He flushed such a bright red it almost matched the color of his shirt.

"Y-You're my best friend," You cut him off by shaking your head vigorously.

"No. No no, Xavier, I love you." You'd never seen him so quiet. Blinking, adam's apple bobbing in his throat as if it was like swallowing was all he could do.

You rushed up to him and grabbed the side of his face, gently but eagerly attaching his lips to yours. You gave him time to respond, to push you off, to pull you closer, to do anything, and when nothing came you pulled away. Faces inches from each other all you did was stare in his eyes. So disheartened, you started to move backwards.

Xavier stood to his full height now and pulled you closer to him, both of his hands now up and resting on your face. His hands were so big they traced your jawline and caressed the side of your neck. Both of your mouths now moving slowly and sensually against each others. You brought up your hands to rest your palms against the back of his, a soft grip warming your hands and hearts.

Eventually oxygen was needed so you had to pull away. His hands stayed in place and yours only gripped his harder. Eye contact kept between you two mixed with the sound of your lungs greedily pulling air in and out. Smile crept up your faces and you started laughing. Both of you could barely grasp what was happening, all you knew was that you genuinely were never happier.

Following his arms your hands moved to the back of his neck, and his fell down to your waist. Years of pent up pining had come to this. Naturally you two became greedy. Panting and grabbing at each other for more. Your arm went pull around his neck and your other hand grabbed a fistful of his hair pulling and tugging. When you pulled a little too hard and a low groan escaped his mouth into yours, and the grip on your waist tightened, and you could feel his fingers digging into your skin, you only wanted more.

Things got desperate and hot fast. Xavier lowered his hands ever so slightly to creep up underneath your shirt and his cold palms set something afire in you. The simple touch of his skin on yours made you gasp, and he took the opportunity to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Almost as soon as it had started, he started pulling away. "Wait, love wait," he pulled away from you and pushed the hair out of your face while studying it with his eyes.

"Did I do something?" Insecurity started to fill you as now you had a chance to think, though your mind was foggy.

"Do something? No, my girl you could never," He stroked the side of your face and pressed his forehead against yours. "Do you really mean this?"

"Sure would be real stupid if I didn't, huh?" You laughed and ran a hand through his hair. You two just took a minute to look in each others eyes, to take it all in.

"I love you." Xavier repeated back to you.

"I mean I'd hope so, that would suck if you didn't," Very quickly you returned to humor as your coping mechanism. He shook his head and pressed one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Ask me the stupid question already," You smiled and grabbed his hands.

"Y'know, patience is a virtue," He started tracing the veins on your hands. You looked at him and tugged on his arms gently. "Will you be my partner?" He tilted his head at the end of the question, what a bottom.

"No."

"What?"

"I'm joking, shut up and kiss me," You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"Yes ma'am," He leaned back in and captured your lips with his.

——————————————————————————

When you got back to your dorm that night, lips swollen with a few hickeys poorly hidden by your poorly applied scarf, Val raised her eyebrows and immediately sat you down to talk. You spent hours that night going over it, every detail you could recall. Which was every single detail.

Into the late hours of the night, Val eventually fell sleep right next to you, face smashed into your pillow and a light snore escaping her lips every few minutes. Your blanket was pulled over her and you stared at the ceiling, too giddy to fall asleep just yet. Xavier had already texted you "i love you" and "goodnight my love <3" Of course you responded and you stared at your new home and lock screen, a photo of you and Xavier on a weekend trip to Jericho.

Then, at the genuine ass crack of dawn as the sun started rising, you remembered a promise you had made him years ago, when you were still young.

"I promise, I'll prove to them your heart beats the same way as theirs."

And you couldn't help but think you'd done it. He was so very capable of love and you only helped bring that out in him. Whatever the future had in store for you, you could handle it now. At least now with Xavier at your side you can.

Who could've ever imagined that you would've fallen so deeply in love with this boy? Against all odds, it seems, you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Infatuated like a poor man, and completely at his mercy.

——————————————————————————

@animesimp3456 @iovaki @navs-bhat @hellllloooosstuff @555stargirl555 @quinn165 @raeboo @heehooyeslol @leyseyb @aunicornmademedoit @regulus-black-223048 @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @pagesfalling @fanfictioniseverything @trickylittlewitch @baziutawrites @mxltifxnd0m @l-3rk @gumballsglassofmilk @bloodyziggy @ur-mom-is-h0t

[jaybird-fanfics]

Your Touch

Your fingers brushed ever so softly against his own, careful not to touch all five. His rough, dry, and calloused hands felt so different compared to your own. But you loved them. You loved him. You smile as your thumb softly presses slightly into his wrist. Yes, even his wrists were pretty to you. So thin, so delicate. People would normally not spare a passing glance at him, if they had not already known who he was. He was so, unlike someone to be feared. A frail, skinny twenty something year old man. A shut in. A "freak". 

But no, he was so much more than that. If to no one else, than to you. He was to be respected, never underestimated, to be feared. And yet, from the very first day you met him, you never did fear him. If anything, you did feel that respect, you never underestimated him in anyway, you admired him. Soon that admiration would grow into something stronger. And before you knew it, here you were. In his dark room, in his bed. Playing with those dangerous hands of his. 

"You're fucking crazy. You know that?" 

Oh how you loved the sound of his voice. Some would be turned away from the rasp, the roughness of his voice. But not you. You look up from his hand. "Am I?" You grin. "How so?" He looked at you, the light from his tv screen reflecting off of his ruby eyes. He gave you a look, the kind of look that said, you should already know. "Just look at what you're doing right now." 

"What? I'm just doing what I always do." You say before turning your attention back to his hands. His flat rough palms brushed against yours, intertwining your fingers with his longer ones. He was always careful not to use his fifth one on you. 

"I could kill you. Dust you within seconds." 

"Mhm. I know." 

"Then stop." 

"Why should I?" 

You could hear his annoyed huff from above you. You giggled and moved your hand away from his. "If you really want me to stop, I will. Do you want me to stop?" He said nothing. You put your hand on top of his. "That's what I thought." 

"You're crazy." 

"So I've heard." You chuckle. "I know very well what you are capable of Shiggy." That nickname, coming from anyone else would have been an insult. "I just, want to do this." 

"Why?" 

You look up at him with a grin, bringing his hand up to your cheek. "I like your hands." You could have sworn you saw a bit of pink dusting his cheeks, but his blue locks were in the way. "But, they're not the only things I like about you." 

"I like, your hair." You lean in closer to him. "Your eyes." You brush some of his hair out of his face. "Your scars." You gently swipe your thumb against his scar on his lip. "Everything about you, is so perfect Shiggy." 

He couldn't take much more of this. He hid his face in your neck, making you laugh lightly. "It's true." You assure him. 

And it was. Never once have you lied about his beauty. And that's exactly what it is, beauty. You felt him wrap his arms around you tight, you move your arms around him as well. Petting his tangled blue hair. 

"I love every part of you. But your hands, are my favorite." 

"That's a crazy thing to say." 

"Well, I am crazy, according to you." You joke. "Yeah, still true." He tells you before pulling back from you. You take his hands again. "So pretty." You murmur. 

You loved his hands. You loved him. Every inch of him. 

And he felt the same about you. Your touch was so...soothing. Your touch made him feel alive. Your touch made him feel something again. He was addicted. He never wanted to let you go. He wanted this all the time. He wanted your touch all the time. 

He needed, your touch. 

(Sorry, this one is short. I might get into making more Shiggy stories, idk yet. Hope you enjoy anyway~)

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

sorry but i dont understand why they had to cast margot robbie as tonya harding. she was perfect for barbie - the quintessential tall, skinny blonde that is barbie. she was perfect as sharon tate who was also admired for her beauty. and im sure she performed great as tonya harding because she is a talented actress - but it really bothers me they cast a woman this conventionally attractive for the one leading role where the real life woman she played was „unfeminine“ and „unattractive“ by ice skating standards and was constantly pitted against her rival who got all the sponsors and better ratings despite not being the more talented ice skater. margot robbie didnt need this movie for her success but it could have been a one time chance for an unattractive womans break as an actress. instead they „uglied down“ margot robbie like they did with nicole kidman in „destroyer“.

they couldnt find other talented actresses for the roles who just look like this?

and yet there are still feminists who deny „pretty privilege“ exists because incels have negatively impacted the discussion around beauty bias. no serious feminist says attractive women have it easy but it just annoys me when people claim there are no advantages to being conventionally attractive because „beauty is subjective“ or „misogyny just takes different forms“ or „beauty shouldnt matter“ - well it does. and yes beauty can fade too and beauty standards change but weight, ability and age are also characteristics that change, they still can have an unfair advantage or disadvantage. and i understand that feminists are uncomfortable categorising women as more or less attractive, i am too, but it is also hindering real conversations about beauty and attractiveness in our society when we act „beauty blind“. there is definitely negative bias towards conventionally attractive women too but that is a product of misogyny, not their looks. whatever someone will twist this to call me insecure and petty anyways

[moorishflower]

That long lost!Addams ficlet is a delight. You KNOW Gomez would be so absurdly proud if his new great x100 uncle then managed to bag an actual eldritch terror as a partner. Wouldn't even miss a beat.

"Hob Gadling," Dream says, and Hob makes a frankly embarrassing sound -- not a shriek, nothing like that, but maybe a startled yelp -- and jerks off the side of the bed and onto the floor. Dust from beneath the bed settles immediately in his hair, and the floorboards creak alarmingly under his weight, but, after a tense and breathless moment, nothing happens. Hob exhales, and finds himself looking up between Dream's long and slender legs. He's wearing skinny jeans, Hob notes, and he can't resist the urge to grab hold of both of Dream's calves, just above the ankle, and Christ, but he's so skinny Hob can nearly get his fingers to touch.

Dream only raises an eyebrow at him. "Why do you keep the company of witches?" he asks, and Hob strokes up the length of his legs, as high as he can reach, humming softly. His heart is still hammering with excess adrenaline, and he's got to channel it somewhere. Lust for his lover (partner? boyfriend? they haven't really discussed --) is as good a cause as any.

"Hello," he says, attempting to maintain some manner of social nicety. "Good to see you, darling, how's your day been, mine's been fine --"

"Hob."

"-- I only learned that I've apparently got relatives, still," he finishes, and Dream's other eyebrow joins the first. Hob uses Dream's ankles to hoist himself further from the edge of the bed, and then picks himself up gingerly, brushing dust from his hair, his shoulders. It falls down from him in a grey cloud, and he's not able to suppress a sneeze before he says, "Loads of them. From my mam's side of the family. Apparently she had a sister."

"And you decided to visit."

"There were extenuating circumstances," Hob says, thinking of the diary, the bidding war, Gomez's unflappable enthusiasm for the esoteric. "But yes. What's this about witches?"

"Many of your relatives are. Though this explains, somewhat. How swiftly and easily you took to immortality."

Witches are real? sits on the tip of his tongue, and Hob only narrowly swallows it back. "Am I a witch?" he asks, half-fearing the answer. It'd make his drowning in the 1600s a lot less poignant, maybe. If he's been a witch this whole bloody time, if 'witch' is a thing that's somehow separate and distinct from human...

"No," Dream says, and all the tension leaves Hob's shoulders at once. He sits back down on the bed with a shuddering sigh. It's a nice bed, a four-poster with a canopy, and Gomez and Morticia had reassured him that this room did not contain anything that lived under the mattress. The sheets are heavy velvet, in deference to the cold Chicago winter, and yesterday morning he'd woken up to the sight of Wednesday Addams standing over his bed with a morningstar in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She had been contemplating the best way to wake him: by cutting his hair (he'd needed to explain to her that it would take time to grow back), or by caving his chest in (requiring a totally different, but no less important, conversation of its own).

"Good," he says, and Dream makes a low, thrumming noise, and straddles Hob's lap.

"You did not tell me where you were going," he murmurs, and strokes his thumbs down Hob's cheeks, catches his nail on Hob's bottom lip and pulls it down slightly to expose his teeth. "I felt you, still. In the Dreaming. But The New Inn was bereft of you."

"I didn't realize I was coming here until the second I did it," Hob admits, and Dream seems to take this in stride. "Besides. I've got no way to contact you. I sort of hoped you'd just...feel where I was."

"I did. I do. And yet. To hear it from your lips would also be...pleasing."

"You're allowed to say you're miffed, love," Hob says, and lays his hands in the cup of Dream's hips. Thin and bony and his. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going. Maybe we can figure out some way we can talk not through the Dreaming, in future. Dunno if you get cell service there."

He means it as a joke, but Dream tilts his head to the side, considering. His thumb sweeps up from Hob's lip, touches just below his eye, the firm bone of the orbit.

"I will consider it," he says, and then bends down and gently covers Hob's mouth with his own. His lips are soft, and Dream always runs closer to lukewarm than he does body temperature, but now Hob gasps because Dream's mouth, when it opens against him, is chilled. Sweet and cool as wintermint, and his tongue licking at Hob's lips is like a round of ice that thaws and melts and slowly slips inside, until Hob can drink him the way he would snowmelt, held in the cupped chalice of his tongue --

"Dios mío," comes a familiar voice at the door, and Hob frantically pulls his hands from where they had been inching over Dream's arse, and then just as frantically tries to rearrange himself so that his erection isn't immediately visible. He's not sure how he manages this last, since he feels hard enough that it could be seen from space, but if that's the cross he must bear, then so be it.

Dream, as always, is utterly unflappable, and turns to the bedroom door looking every inch a king; he's wild-haired, Hob realizes, and the skinny jeans aren't so much gone as they are flickering, like a projector caught between two slides, flipping back and forth between Dream's usual peacoat and jeans, and what Hob's become used to seeing him wear in the Dreaming, what he thinks of as Dream's robe of office, flowing like ink, black as the starless sky.

Gomez, standing in the doorway, looks between Dream and Hob, and then a wide and cheery grin nearly splits his face in half.

"Mi querido niño! You did not tell me you had a paramour! And who is this enchanting creature? Gomez Addams, my friend, at your service!"

Dream blinks slowly, and Gomez, to his credit, does not come forward with a proffered hand or, thank God, a hug. Only beams at Dream from the doorway, until Hob's increasingly eldritch lover breaks the silence at last.

"I am called Morpheus," he says, "Lord of Dreams and King of Nightmares. Shaper of Form and Prince of Stories." He inclines his head slightly, and Gomez looks as though he might faint with delight. "And lover of Hob Gadling."

"You did not tell me you were royalty," Gomez says. He strides into the bedroom, and thankfully it's Hob he's bound for, Hob's hand that he grabs. "Royalty! Why, the Addams haven't hosted a king since good old Henry!"

"Which Henry?" Hob gets out, as he's forcibly removed from the bed and dragged, almost bodily, towards the door. Gomez is strong. He keeps forgetting.

"It doesn't matter! They're all quite dead. But yours isn't! Come, my liege! Allow me to escort you and your Prince Consort on a promenade of the grounds! Have you ever been to America before, sir?"

"I am a representation of all sleeping minds, and of the dreaming subconscious of all living things," Dream says, sweeping behind them, stately and imposing. "So. Yes."

"Oh, splendid! That means I don't have to explain baseball."

"What is happening," Hob whispers, as he's manhandled out into the hall. His mind is caught somewhere on prince consort and doesn't quite want to let go of it, but he feels like that's a conversation he ought to have with Dream in private.

And Dream looks at him, smirking faintly, his starlit eyes flicking from Hob's mussed hair to his kiss-pinked lips, and down to the way that Gomez so effortlessly steers him by the shoulder out into the manor proper.

"Family," Dream says, and reaches out, and laces his fingers with Hob's.