#Fat-burning potential

[profitpulse36]

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[funsizedshark]

99% of the conversations ive had in the past week did not pass the bechdel test because all of my friends are having Guy Problems. now im trying really hard not to develop a lesbian superiority complex but while all this is going on i went on a hiking date this week and we're going to a pottery cafè on tuesday

[sigappurojakal]

THE SCIENCE OF METABOLISM: HOW TO BOOST YOUR BODY'S FAT-BURNING POTENTIALMetabolism is often talked about when discussing weight loss and fitness, but what exactly is it, and how can we use it to our advantage? In simple terms, metabolism refers to the chemical processes that occur within your body to maintain life. These processes are what convert the food you eat into energy that fuels everything you do, from breathing to running a marathon. The faster your metabolism, the more calories your body burns, even at rest. So, how can we naturally boost our metabolism and make fat-burning more efficient?UNDERSTANDING METABOLISMThere are three main factors that influence your metabolism: Basal Metabolic Rate (BMR), physical activity, and the thermic effect of food (the energy your body uses to digest, absorb, and process nutrients). While some factors, like genetics and age, may make it seem harder for some people to lose weight, the good news is that there are ways to improve your metabolic rate and help your body burn more fat.BOOSTING YOUR METABOLISM NATURALLY1. Increase Muscle Mass: Muscle tissue burns more calories than fat, even at rest. Incorporating strength training exercises into your routine not only helps you build lean muscle but also gives your metabolism a long-term boost. The more muscle you have, the higher your BMR, which means you’ll burn more calories throughout the day, even when you're not working out.2. Eat Enough Protein: The thermic effect of food is higher for protein than for carbohydrates or fats. This means that your body burns more calories digesting protein than other nutrients. Including high-protein foods in your meals, like lean meats, beans, and eggs, can help increase calorie burn. Protein also helps in building and maintaining muscle mass, which is essential for a healthy metabolism.3. Stay Hydrated: Drinking water has been shown to temporarily boost metabolism by about 10-30% for an hour after consumption. Cold water may be particularly effective, as your body uses energy to heat it to body temperature. Staying hydrated also helps your body perform at its best, allowing for efficient digestion and fat-burning processes.4. Get Enough Sleep: Sleep deprivation can wreak havoc on your metabolism by disrupting the hormones that regulate hunger and energy use. Studies have shown that inadequate sleep can lead to increased fat storage and a slower metabolism. Aim for 7-9 hours of quality sleep per night to keep your metabolic processes functioning smoothly.5. Eat Small, Frequent Meals: Eating smaller meals throughout the day can keep your metabolism active. Large, infrequent meals can cause your metabolism to slow down between eating times. When you eat more frequently, your body stays in a state of digestion and calorie burn, preventing it from going into energy-saving mode.6. Stay Active Throughout the Day: In addition to regular exercise, staying active throughout the day can help boost your metabolism. Small changes like standing more, walking during breaks, or taking the stairs can add up and increase your daily calorie expenditure.CONCLUSIONBoosting your metabolism isn't about following strict diets or workout plans; it's about making small, sustainable changes to your lifestyle. By building muscle, staying hydrated, eating more protein, and ensuring you get enough sleep, you can naturally boost your body's fat-burning potential. Your metabolism might not be the only factor in weight loss, but improving it can make a significant difference in how efficiently your body burns calories. Start making these changes today and see how your metabolism transforms!

[wellnessletlossweight]

What are the ways to fight obesity?

Obesity is a chronic disease affecting an increasing number of children, teens, and adults. There are several ways to fight obesity, and these include:

Improving Eating Habits and Increasing Physical Activity:

Healthy eating habit as well as keeping a food diary of what you eat, where you were, and how you were feeling before and after you eat can help in monitoring eating habits. Increase consumption of a balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, whole grains, lean proteins, and healthy fats. Portion control and mindful eating can also help manage calorie intake. Eating five to nine servings of fruits and vegetables daily is recommended for adults.

Finding ways to get even 10 or 15 minutes of some type of activity during the day, such as walking around the block or up and down a few flights of stairs, is a good start to increasing physical activity.

Healthy Lifestyle Strategies:

Avoiding large meals and caffeine before bedtime and increasing physical exercise to help the body relax better at night can contribute to a healthy lifestyle.

Getting good sleep, finding ways to reduce stress, and managing lifestyle factors such as a balanced diet, physical activity, and getting enough sleep are important for preventing obesity.

Change behavior such as setting realistic goals, keeping food and activity journals, identifying triggers for overeating, and finding alternative coping strategies for stress or emotions.

Raise awareness about the health risks associated with obesity and the benefits of adopting a healthier lifestyle. Provide education on nutrition, portion sizes, reading food labels, and making healthier food choices.

Medical Management and Professional Support:

Provide access to healthcare services that offer obesity screening, counseling, and management, including medical interventions such as weight loss medications or bariatric surgery for individuals with severe obesity who have tried other means of sustainable weight loss programs that don’t work.

Early intervention and prevention efforts, particularly in childhood, by promoting breastfeeding, encouraging healthy eating habits from a young age, increasing physical activity opportunities in schools, and reducing exposure to unhealthy food marketing. Address environmental factors that contribute to obesity, such as food deserts (areas with limited access to healthy food options), the availability of unhealthy foods in communities, and urban design that discourages physical activity.

Recognize and respect cultural differences in food preferences, traditions, and beliefs while promoting healthier options within culture.

Fighting obesity calls for a long-term, all-inclusive approach. Everyone, including people, local groups, healthcare workers, government officials, and various key players works as a team to make environments that encourage healthy decisions and habits.

[theorist-fox]

Some more insecure Simon Riley talk, because he's precious.

18+

Word count: 1.4k

CW: nothing, just smut. Simon finds you in lingerie and has a stroke. I love him your honor.

Masterlist 🦊

Simon, who is not sure what to do with himself the first time you welcome him home in nothing but lingerie.

He’s so unbelievably tired, dropping his clothes on the floor of the bedroom without even lifting his head. Mumbling apologies to you—how he’ll clean tomorrow, how he just wants to go to bed and sleep fourteen hours straight, right now. Bonus points if you hold him through the night, too.

Yet you’re not replying, but he’s seen your silhouette in the darkness; he knows you’re awake because you whispered a soft “Welcome back” when he walked in the room. His heart pounds in his chest, his palms get clammy—he thinks he’s overstepping lines by not giving you the attention he thinks you deserve.

So, as he unzips his pants, he lifts his eyes to look at you, and fuck—

You’re lying on your side, propped on your elbow, chin tucked in your palm. Perfect tits covered in sheer fabric, burgundy and black, your nipples peeking through. The soft line of your waist is bare—he follows it with his eyes until they land on your hips. Ornated lace curves around your hipbone and thins into see-through, dark fabric over your mound. Two strips of silk clasp your knickers to a pair of thin stockings that cinch the fat of your thighs, and the sight makes his mouth water.

“Welcome back,” you say once again, this time with soft amusement.

He looks like a proper idiot. Hand still on his crotch, practically feeling how his cock comes to a stand at the mere sight of you.

He gulps. Feels a little lightheaded. “F’ me?”

You smile, chuckling softly but not derisively. Simon follows your hand as you guide it over your belly, up to the valley of your breast, as if you’re there, showing the goods he can pick and taste.

“For you.”

Simon is stunned into silence again.

Fuck is he supposed to do, uh? He’d be content just looking at you lying there and looking like you came out of a magazine, instead of touching you and potentially ruining what you did just for—for him?

He must not have noticed how his whole body (aside from his cock) has gone into standby—entered sniper mode. He's quiet, breaths reduced and silent, eyes attentive and narrowed.

It's a handful of seconds that leave you uncomfortable, as your plastic pose softens, your smile faltering at the corners.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, trying to sound steady, but he picks up the nervousness in your tone right away.

He won’t let you have it, obviously. He snaps out of it and takes you in for what you are: a fucking present, on his bed, wrapped in strings and bows and lace like gift wrap.

“Shoulda guessed it was too much, maybe. Should’ve gone for somethin’ soft—"

Simon is on you in seconds. Grabs your face in his hands and smashes his lips to yours something fierce, nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. No hesitation. Simple, tangible desire. Scorching lust. Want. Need—fuck, he’s never kissed you like this.

Your eyes lose their surprise, and they slowly surrender to him—hands wandering down to help him out of his pants and briefs. And then you wrap your arms around his neck, grazing his scalp with your nails until he shivers.

Simon thought there was nothing comparable to the softness of your skin against the harder patches of scars freckling his abdomen. But he’s proved wrong when he feels the rough texture of your lace scratch his chest and his hips—it has him leaking embarrassingly quick.

He’s all lips and tongue as he races down your chest, sloppy kisses leaving a burning trail between your tits, down your belly, settling on your cunt covered by thin mesh.

Simon looks up at you, holding your thighs between thick fingers, smushing them against his cheeks. His eyes are hooded, dark, different. He tilts his head and bites into the plump flesh within reach—not enough to hurt, but sure enough to taste. Mercifully passes his tongue over the teeth marks before biting into it again, until the sting has you arching your back off the bed.

And he never breaks eye contact, which leaves you dumbfounded and flustered to the bone—because where is this confidence coming from? You’re wide-eyed and biting your own teeth in anticipation—this is all new and all the more exciting.

His kisses travel from the lines of your stretch marks up to your sex, where he doesn’t even bother moving the gusset of your knickers, and he just dives in.

Tongue flat against your cunt, drenching the sheer fabric with his spit and your moisture. Your moans are so soft compared to the sloppy mess he’s making of you down there, his insecurity blessed by a sort of beginner’s luck. Or maybe he’s just that hungry, and that is enough for your cunt flutter around nothing anyway.

You’re speechless when he finally lifts himself up, slotting his hips between your kiss-bitten thighs. His cock lands heavy on your pelvis, painting your lower belly with speckles of sheer precum. Head swollen and red right above your belly button.

You look at him wide-eyed, on your back, stock-still—anticipating his next move with your heart rate spiking.

He takes you completely by surprise (once again? In one night? Who is this man?), when he moves your knickers to the side, and instead of plunging in, he slides his cock between your folds and snaps the lace back above it. And then he starts rutting in shameless abandon, holding you steady by your thighs, letting the sheer fabric of your panties cover his tip and half of his shaft, as he runs himself back and forth over the surface of your pussy.

“M’gonna ruin it, sorry.” He croaks, as one of his hands comes to clumsily grab your tits through the lace. “So fuckin’ pretty—fuck—bloody hell, you—”

You coax him to go on with breathless moans because he’s never looked more breathtaking than he does now. Tiny drops of sweat drip from his forehead onto your belly, cheeks flushed and long lashes fanning his cheekbones. His lips yield a grunt each time the lace scratches his shaft. Your breath hitches each time the head of his cock catches your clit.

“Gonna buy ya a new one, yeah?” He grunts, looking down at the wet patch his cock is making through the lace. “Gonna buy ya fuckin’ ten.”

He’s never been this vocal, and you don’t dare to mouth a whisper in case he catches himself in the act. Not even when you cum, a short and stinging orgasm that makes your clit burn at the friction, do you dare to moan. You tilt your head back and shut your eyes, neck corded in the strain to keep it in, flushing with warmth in unbearable silence.

You think you hear his voice crack through the cotton in your ears when you come back down from your high. “Fuck—God, fuck. Wha’ a gift, eh? F’ me. All f’me.”

He pulls back a few moments later, taking his cock out of your panties and into a thick hand. A few pumps, and he cums on your lace, painting your belly and your cunt in glistening white.

He’s panting as his hand languidly comes to a halt. Chest flushed and with a thin layer of sweat over it.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, clearly dizzy—as if he needs to apologize for this. “I ruined it. I—just—gonna go grab somethin’ to—to clean y'up, wait 'ere—Jesus Christ.”

He slowly comes to stand, knees popping and legs shaking as he stumbles to the bathroom.

You look down at the spurts of cum covering your stomach and staining the lace of your panties, and then you flop your head back onto the mattress, wide eyes locked to the ceiling.

A chuckle of disbelief escapes you, still in shock from the sudden switch in behavior. And you think, when he comes back with a towel to clean the mess he’s made on your skin, that you might have to take another trip to the shop this weekend—buy yourself a new little piece.

But later, then, he falls asleep with his head on your chest, fingers lazily toying with the lace of your bra (because he’s asked you to keep it on, you know—“Like how 't feels”), and so you move up your shopping a little—already on your phone, running your thumb to skim through pinks and blues, laces and silks.

You might just order a new one right now.

It’s at that moment that he shifts in his sleep, slipping his hand under the band of your lacy bra and curling his fingers around your breast.

You change your mind.

You might just order ten.

[iamasaddie]

lessons in control

Joel Miller x f!Reader

summary: after you witnessed the conflict at the dance, you tried to comfort Joel as best as you could, too bad you weren't really good with words. warnings: PWP, just the tip, mentions of a belly bulge, mentions of cockwarming, creampie, emotionally awkward reader, sex as a distraction, fat girthy age gap (reader late 20s-early 30s, Joel 61. don't like don't read i am planning to write some more stuff about them <3) wc: 1,7k a/n: episode came out weeks ago and i just finished the fix-it fic. i love being on time. divider by @/saradika-graphics

You were already warming up your shared bed when Joel's heavy body plopped next to yours. The matress squeaked pathetically, or maybe those were Joel's knees. He silently scooted closer to you, hugging your body from behind and inhaling your scent.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you reached and blindly found his cheek, scratching the stubble with your thumb in a gentle gesture.

“I can’t seem to control myself when I feel something might happen to her, you now?" You did know. Joel's hyperprotectiveness over Ellie was the thing that brought you together in the first place. And that was the only time when it didn't cause mass distruction. Almost. "I just get filled with rage and I lose it.” Joel sounded like a beaten dog, you knew exactly how much pain his eyes carried. You wished you could say something that’d take his mind off things. You wished you had a better way with words. But the only thing you felt you could offer was your body, so you press your back harder into his t-shirt clad chest; you pushed your ass a bit out to meet his cock that was still soft in his boxers.

“I can help you with the control thing.” You whispered, your breathing soft and calm.

“Yeah?” There was a tint of humor in his voice, a half-smile creeping up on his face. “Gonna walk me on a leash?”

“No,” you grabbed his hand and brought it up from your belly to your tits. Joel barely squeezed the supple flesh, waking up the sleeping beast that was your need. “Let’s start with something less dramatic.”

“You know full well I’m not able to control myself with you either.” As if proving his words, his hips bucked, teasing your ass with his hardening dick. His voice dropped lower, the honey thick cadence you grew to know very well. Joel’s grown out stubble brushed your ear as he moved his lips closer. “If I can have you, I devour you fully.”

You breath caught in your throat. Whatever this turns out to be, you knew you at least gave him shelter from the dark thoughts for the night. “You can have me, but,” your ass kept grinding on him, bringing Joel’s cock to the full potential, “just the tip.”

He barked a soft laugh, fanning your face with his whiskey breath. “Sounds like you’ll be the one struggling, baby,” his thumb and pointer finger pinched your nipple, already taut with excitement, and you bit your cheek to hide the moan. “Since it’s you who always begs me harder, more, deeper.”

Goosebumps erupted on your skin as Joel started nipping at your neck, dragging his teeth along the tender column. His hands enveloped you in a hot cage, forearms squeezing your boobs as he pressed you even tighter to his chest. You couldn’t move—not that you wanted to—but you didn’t think it’d be great for that exercise in control you wanted to give Joel. He bit in the juncture between your neck and shoulder and you gasped. You were so responsive, it drove Joel mad. His hips kept humping your soft ass, and you knew a wet stain already bloomed on the front of his simple underwear. 

“Come on, Joel, let me help you.” You moan was breathy, and you tried to gather some composure to no avail. Feeling his hard length fit between your asscheeks made your core burn. You desperately wanted to have him stretch your pussy around the veiny shaft, even though that wasn’t what you planned in the beginning. You guessed that both of you could learn something.

His hand let go of your tits, dragging down your body to tug your panties down. You fumbled for a moment, helping him get rid of the damp garment. His own he only shoved down enough to let his hard cock out, the elastic of the band sitting tightly under the heavy ballsack. 

Your wet pussy was sheilded from the cold of the room by the blanket that covered you both, and when Joel’s tip finally kissed the slick lips of your cunt, sweat started gathering on the back of your neck. 

One of Joel’s palms rested on your thigh, his almost fully grey happy trail that lead to the coarse pubic hairs tickled your ass and back. His finger dug into the meat of your leg, dragging it up and over his own hairy thigh, so he had a better access to your weeping pussy.

Joel’s teeth grazed your ear, low voice rumbling through you.

“Sure you don’t want me here?” His hand left your leg, and he pressed into your lower belly, making you shiver. “Don’t you love feeling me in your tummy, baby? See how my cock bulges your little belly?”

You moaned, squeezing your eyes shut. You did love that. Loved seeing how big he was, in every aspect, and how well you could still take him. Seeing how much of his cock was in you when he told you to suck your tummy in. 

“N-no,” your whimper lacked any confidence, and Joel only chuckled darkly. “Just the tip.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” 

He moved, grabbing the shaft of his cock that was throbbing with the absence of needed contact. With tortuously slow movements, he teased your slit, making sure to nudge your clit every time. The fat head of his cock spread your lips, mixing your arousal and his precum into one cocktail of need and despair. You felt his spongy tip knock on your hole and it took everything you had in yourself not to push down, taking as much of him as you could in one go.

You shook with desire against his body, and Joel finally allowed you to have some of him. Gently, almost mockingly, he pushed the leaking head of his cock in your tight heat. Even this small fraction of his dick felt overwhelming without proper preparation. When your walls hugged his tip, both of you exhaled sharply.

“Fuck, Joel, good, that’s good.”

“Yeah? Already full?” 

“Mhm.”

“I need you to play with your clit, baby. Want you to squeeze that tight little pussy around me as I fuck you with just the tip.”

Shaking, your right hand found your pulsating clit, but before touching it, you pushed your fingers lower, blindly feeling where the tip of his cock split you apart. You grazed his shaft with the tips of your fingers and immediately heard Joel suck air through his clenched teeth.

“If you don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you into this mattress with my whole dick, better keep your fingers on your clit, baby.”

You’d giggle if only he didn’t choose that exact moment to slip out and immediately punch into you again, this time a bit further, but you kept your mouth shut.

Your fingers expertly danced over your throbbing bud, gathering slick that generously seeped out of you. Joel was uncharacteristically quiet, all of his concentration focused on not thrusting his hips and burying himself to the hilt in your welcoming pussy. Sweat dripped down his temple, thighs screaming, but he kept feeding you just the tip, enjoying your breathy mewls. 

Having so little of him when you knew what the whole deal felt like resembled a punishment that you brought upon yourself. He stretched you good, but he couldn’t reach that magic spot he usually pondered into whenever he sunk his cock inside you. That made you work on your clit harder, already desperate to cum when it’s barely been ten minutes. 

“I can hear how wet you are for me,” Joel nipped at your neck, his tip continuously thrusting in and out of you, teasing. “D'you hear that?”

The sounds were loud, vulgar. You’ve heard the wetness of your cunt welcoming Joel with an obscene smack, like when you pat the surface of still water with your opened palm. The waves of your upcoming orgasm rippled from your core and out, like those same disturbed waters.

“Grippin' me tight, darlin’,” he groaned, you could smell his sweat and it made your mouth salivate. “Grippin' so good I can barely pull out.”

Your hand started faltering, rythm failing and Joel, sensing your trouble, left the tip of his cock inside you while his own hand started working on your clit. The simple touch of his fingertips, rough and gentle at the same time, pushed you tripping over the edge. You kept choking on air, inhaling more and more until your lungs burned and your mouth opened wide in a silent scream. 

Joel felt your little bud throbbing under his fingertips, your pussy squeezing his cock so hard he could barely hold off his own orgasm. He found your hand, bringing your slippery fingers back to your spent pussy.

“Keep touching your clit.”

“I can’t,” you whined back, voice barely audible, “it’s too sensitive, Joel.”

“Keep playing with it or I will,” the thought of his big rough fingertip on your sensitive bud again sent a chill down your spine, though it was far from fear that you felt. “I want your pussy choking and crying around me when I fill you up.”

You tried to steady your breathing, your trembling fingers started to work gentle circles on your pussy again. It felt raw, and every extra touch felt like a shock wave shooting through you. But it did what Joel wanted, every swipe made your pussy clench around him with extra strength and he just kept his tip inside you, stroking his shaft that was covered in your cum with his thumb and two fingers.

“Doing good, baby, keep going.”

“It’s too much.” You whined, almost breaking apart from him, but his hand kept you in place.

“It’s not, you can do it for me, can’t you?”

You could do anything for Joel, he was right there. So your fingers kept torturing your poor pussy, bringing as much pain as pleasure, and you kept squeezing around Joel’s cock, bringing him to his own release.

In one long unexpected thrust, he pushed the rest of his cock in you, growling as he spilled rope after rope of his cum inside you. The sudden movement ripped another orgasm out of you and you wailed, tears of pleasure tickling the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, baby,” he sounded everything but sorry, “had to make sure I don’t spill a drop.”

“Does it mean you’ll leave it in for the night?” There was hope in your voice, and you didn’t try to hide it. Whenever Joel kept himself snug in your pussy for the night, you had the best dreams, and the horniest mornings.

He hugged you close to his chest, making sure his softening cock was still plugging you. “I don’t think I got that much control, sweetheart.”

[fics-lovebot]

enhypen fic recs pt.4

main masterlist - pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 5

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

these are my personal favs, so pls reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

random texts with bf!jay - ( @enha-stars ), love it

too sweet - ( @star-sim ) fluff, suggestive, badboy!jake, nerdy!reader, downbad!jake. Jay is scared he will hurt you in the future so he tries to break things off but at the end of the day he´s whipped LMAOOO, I LOVE ITTTTTT

say it back! - ( @star-sim ) FLUFF, non-idol! bf! jay, clingy cute!reader, whipped!jake, like fr, UGHHHHHHHH SO CUTE AND DOMESTIC

pics i posted on my ig story for my crush to see - ( @lattegyu ) ig stories, fluff, crack, smau, non idol!jay

pictures of bf!jay enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

justice and mercy - ( @thoughtsofmetaphor ) god!jay x virgin!reader, NAHHHH the potential rev harem this had is insaneee, i love it

eat the rich - ( @enhypencores ) chaebol!jay x fem!reader, wheeeewww, i love this sfdlsdjfljkshd he´s so manly and possessive

fuck buddy jake - ( @heeseungsbm ) smut, lowkey fluff bc he´s got a fat crush

texts with ex-bf!jake - ( @bywons ) fluff, CRACK, he´s down bad fr

pictures of bf!jake enha send you - ( @ddksoo ) text, fluff

necklace - ( @rikiislvr ) fluff, idol!riki, i WISH this would happen to me but i´m too broke to be frequenting the same stores as him alsjfha, need a part two asap plss

busy woman - ( @heedeungism ) fluff, angst, crack, lacrosse player!niki, rich kids au, highschool au, listen to me rn this is imPORTANT: this is one of THEE BEST NIKI FICS OUT THERE, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. i had to hide in every corner to read this at work bc 1) i couldn´t STOP reading it and 2) i couldn´t let anybody see me reading it bc it had me giggling like a dumb bitch. js go read it, pls and ty

string of fate - ( @acphengene ) fluff, angst, soulmate au series, idol!enha. YESSIIIRRRRR, i love love love love tHIS, one of the best enha soulmates au i´ve read so far, the niki one made me fucking cry omg, but my fav is deff jungwon, it was so good it made me read the whole series, did not dissapoint AT ALL, so do yourself a favor and read it to :p

helping hand - ( @ghstzzn ) smut. pro gamer!hee, bsf!reader. "heeseung had an unusual ritual before every competition as a professional league of legends player", you already know how it issss, some top tier head and now he´s begging and shi sjsjs, i loved this

bounded by fate - ( @tobiosbbyghorl ) fluff, ceo!sunghoon, lowk slow burn if you squint, secretary!reader, nahhhhhh why is he lowkey smooth and confident af, making me blush and shi

perv - ( @urlovebot ) smut. perv!sunghoon, non-con themes. oh,,,my god. i have no words,,i was literally reading this with a gaping mouth, ykw just go through her whole m.list atp

serendipity - ( @kaiyunsim ) fluff, spiderman!jake, if you love hot loser!jake as much as i do, you´re gonna LOVE this.

that was too far - ( @semisasseater ) angst, fluff, bf!niki. ni-ki took his joke a bit too far. this would SO happend to him irl too i fear

aftercare and pillowtalk - ( @enhani-ki ) fluff, bf!niki, suggestive. i loved it sm :(, and as an angsty fic lover & connoisseur my soul is bEGGING for a following part where hE breaks her heart (with hea ofc :p i´m no that sick and twisted).

king of tears - ( @enhaflixer ) angSSSt, fluff, smut, chaebol husband!sunghoon, maknae line cameo. WWWWWOW i ate this tf uPPPPP, girlllll this should be aired on netflix fosho!, so so gooD!

tying them up - ( @enhaflixer ) smut. WAIT WSIT WAIT WAIT WAITTTTT I WANS´T EXPECTING THIS I- miss girl you have opened my eYES to a better world, where pretty men cry. thank you.

fwb!sunghoon - ( @vampjaeyun ) angst. the ending :)))))))))))))))))) i´ll let yall see for yourselves. i almost crashed out at worK

strawberry kisses - ( @amoressb ) FLUFF. idol bf!niki. NAURRRR THIS WAS SO CUTE IT HAD ME TEARING UPPPPP :´) and not jake being an anti-romantic lmao

until i found her - ( @orimuraa ) FLUFF. down bad!enha, bad boy!enha. the niCKNAMES :((((((( thisissofuckingcute

is it a crime to be attracted to my girl? - ( @youngheejay ) suggestive, bf!sunghoon. lmaooooo this man was stressed oUT. and not him calling the others "bitchless losers" i cant

[spaceyaemonds]

god i love this premise, it’s so hilarious that Jack would wind up with a young baby mama. It’d be fun to think of this as pre-canon. So she can kinda fit in the whole first season, like a super young mom coming in to treat a burn or something with a little kid, she’s being seen by a resident whose like so unaware and then boom, Jack walks in and the gossip/stares start. I think Jack can’t really ignore what it looks like but would be annoyed by the stares but ultimately wouldn’t care. And she would just be like *shrugs* “he’s super hot”

Also I am eagerly waiting on the hilarious interaction of Jack telling Robby and Dana. “What’s worse than knocking up your one night stand?” “Um, she’s 23.” “Jesus Christ”

Or maybe when they go out they keep calling Jack grandpa. Or just the heavy looks when they see this very young milf smile around Jack. Just the heavy stares from Robby and Dana as they watch this young family grow lol.

I also think they could have this really cute but kinda dysfunctional family dynamic. Yes they have a healthy coparenting relationship. Dad is teaching the kid survival skills and taking him on camping excursions where they test said survival skills. Yes Mom is chill as hell, and spills tea about the crazy office dynamics while she crafts with her kid. And lowkey loves being a hot mom. Like yes mom and dad sometimes smash because they have needs and it’s just less mess and complication when they have this somewhat dysfunctional FWB situation, that has potential to blossom into something bigger.

Anyways I love this mini series it’s serious feeding me, that man is so fine with the salt and pepper hair. I can’t wait to read more.

hi friend!!! i am so so glad you have been enjoying this mini series!!!! i have loved sharing it with everyone here!! omg same, i am so obsessed with him he makes me SICKKK!

ahh!! i have a lot to say on this so answering under the cut!!

it is very funny to imagine jack getting off of shift on the day and hours into the day reader shows up in the ed with their (fat, because i love fat babies) baby, maybe two years old. baby slipped and bumped their head, and she doesn’t want to bother jack so she takes baby alone. she somehow misses robby and dana, ends up with whitaker, of all people. maybe perlah or princess notice baby abbot’s name on the board, immediately tell dana, who makes a quick call to jack. whitaker goes to check over the baby, and jack immediately jerks the door open, “get the hell away from my kid.” and whitaker just looks between reader, the baby, and jack, on the verge of throwing up. santos and mel are right outside when they hear everything and immediately are all 😮👀

dana and robby’s reactions are as expected. dana is majorly side eyeing, and robby is just like “jesus christ! twenty-three?!?!” and jack doesn’t even really try to defend himself. standing there like a puppy getting scolded lol.

i like to think that reader very often gets hit on, guys closer in age to her walking up to her when she’s with jack and baby abbot at the park, asking if her dad can keep an eye on the baby and maybe they can grab dinner. it always makes her laugh, and infuriates jack, has him mumbling all kinds of stuff like “sure, dad can watch baby.” because he understands that she’s a beautiful girl, but he can’t deny the jealousy he feels when people hit on her in front of him.

jack loves nothing more than spending time with his baby. more often than not, after a hard shift, he finds his way to her house, just asking to take a peek at baby but ends up sleeping on the floor next to the crib. and more often than not, he spends his nights off there, ending up in readers bed. he isn’t interested in seeing anyone else, and she can’t imagine dating when there’s so much tension and longing between her and jack.

i think it takes some time, but they do eventually end up together. they’ve lowkey just been together, though, just not official. jack never felt the need to try to put a label on it because he’s worried about “forcing” her into something she doesn’t want. he knows how he feels, and though is never 100% on how exactly she feels, he knows there’s something there. i also don’t think they ever really officially date. i like to imagine jack maybe just slips a ring on her finger one night, and they get married not long after!

[postcrashcurly]

A Deep Dive into Curly's Injuries

CW: Medical discussion and graphic themes.

I see a lot of people discussing Curly's injuries in the fandom and I thought that I would take some time to absolutely word vomit information for consideration as someone training in the medical field.

Burns and Calculating Total Body Surface

Starting off simple, we’ll discuss the following burns:

First degree burns only affect the outer layer of the skin (epidermis). Second degree burns, or partial thickness burns, affect both the epidermis and part of the layer underneath (dermis). Third degree burns, or full thickness burns, affect all layers of the skin, fat, and muscle. Third degree burns DO NOT HURT as they destroy the nerves.

Typically you will not see significant 4th degree burns premortem- they are often postmortem and resemble more of a char. The body is basically cremated/incinerated. I'll touch more on this further down.

The rule of nines is the method for estimating the percentage of affected body surface (size of the burn). I used this to roughly estimate that Curly is burned anywhere from 82-91% of his total body surface. We don't see his backside, but assuming he walked into the cockpit before the crash it is POSSIBLE that his backside isn't as burnt.

Note the R-Baux score and prediction of burn-related mortality (TBSA – Age + [17 x R] TBSA: total body surface area R: 1 (Inhalation injury) or 0 (No inhalation injury)

Amputation Possibility and Weight of Risk

While there are a lot of factors to keep in mind when it comes to Curly’s condition and subsequent survival, in order to connect reality and canon the following needs to be considered.

We'll go over two of the most popular interpretations post-crash:

1. Anya performing amputation as a preventative measure.

We have to think about the veins and arteries in the human body when discussing rudimentary amputation.

Note: Arteries carry blood away from the heart to the body, while veins carry oxygen-poor blood back to the heart. Arteries and veins are connected by capillaries. Direction as follows:

Risk to major arteries and veins would potentially result in excessive blood loss (we will focus on arteries since they are larger in diameter and their ability to withstand high pressure from pumping blood). Repairing arteries typically requires surgical intervention.

Curly's right arm ends at the wrist, while his left ends midway up the forearm. This would sever the radial and ulnar arteries.

Curly's right leg ends just below the knee. The popliteal (back of the knee) artery is the continuation of the femoral artery- one of the largest arteries in the body.

Curly's left leg ends about midway down his calf. We can assume that severs the posterior and anterior tibial arteries.

The image below is a quick edit and isn't an accurate representation of location, only a rough diagram.

Note: The legs network of small arteries are available to SOMEWHAT compensate for blood flow if one of the major arteries is damaged, but it likely wouldn't be enough to prevent excessive blood loss.

We CAN consider cauterization in emergency situations; however it would require some ingenuity and a significant heat source. Small tools that could be repurposed to cauterize Curly’s wounds would do more harm than good, and it is likely that Pony Express has banned large, heat producing objects. They ARE on a space freighter with artificial gravity and set oxygen levels, after all.

Lack of proper equipment and medical knowledge would make amputation unsurvivable.

2. Curly's limbs were eviscerated by the crash.

This is where we talk more about the possibility of fourth degree burns and what that means.

Fourth degree burns are the most severe type of burn that affects muscles, tendons, and bone.

Where to position Curly in the cockpit during the crash is… tricky.

It’s difficult to imagine the angle he would need to be in order to sustain full body burns and loss of limbs. This is the part I pondered the most, and I think a good explanation would be electrical burns from the control panel on impact.

Electrical burns are carried by nerves because it is the path of least resistance. Extremities are more susceptible to damage when a current passes through them. (Yes, this means his genitals are gone too. Sorry, folks!) *See article on electric extremity injury under Read More

Facial Injury and Eye Trauma

Moving towards Curly’s face we come back to our discussion of third degree burns, which I’ve explained a bit above. I do want to note that the survival of his left eye interested me the most while compiling this post.

Your eyes don’t melt in extreme heat (goofy ahh Indiana Jones shit).

Your eyes are mostly composed of water, which makes them resistant to combustion. Since we never directly see the eye socket beneath the bandaging it’s reasonable to assume that his right eye is not entirely destroyed but instead severely damaged (flattened, scarred, cloudy). Without eyelids or even eye drops his remaining eye would dry, potentially blinding him if the heat on impact didn't.

Another point of interest is Jimmy manually manipulating Curly’s mouth several times throughout the game.

This rounds back to third degree burns and the damage to the superficial masseter muscle (moves the lower jaw upward – mastication, or ‘protrusion of the mandible’), the deep masseter muscle (retraction of the mandible – mastication, or ‘closing the jaw with force’), the temporalis muscle (mastication, enabling jaw movement for chewing, biting, and grinding), and surrounding tendons.

Knowing this, a ‘slack jaw’ position would cause visible oral damage like dry mouth and halted saliva production. I’ll touch more on this below.

Loss of Skin and Infection

The skin is the largest organ in the human body with a variety of life sustaining functions like protection and excretory function.

In Curly’s condition, the loss of his skin leaves him open to systematic infection. Skin protects against infection by producing antibacterial substances (defensins and cathelicidins), which greatly increase when injury or inflammation are present. Without skin your body's natural defenses no longer protect against bacteria.

Pathological vulnerability is the key factor in this section. A severe and sometimes fatal response to infection (sepsis) would likely occur under these conditions without proper medical care and antibiotics.

Administering Water, Food, and Medication

This section is where some interpretation comes into play.

The average healthy person can survive approximately three weeks without food and 3 days without water (both vary greatly). According to the games timeline he was kept alive in this state for four months, which means that somehow, in some way, they were able to get him enough nutrients for basic human survival.

This was likely in the form of paranutrition bags and IV fluids since Curly does not seem to have the ability to move his mouth or swallow on his own. When your mouth is kept open for extended periods of time you stop salivating as frequently because the act of swallowing, triggered by the build-up of saliva, is no longer happening.

When having medication administered, Jimmy can be seen (or more so heard) shoving the pills down Curly’s throat with his fingers.

I can’t help but speculate that additional damage was done to his esophagus and vocal cords since there isn’t a way to push the pills far enough down to avoid the steady breakdown of the medication in his throat.

Without properly swallowing pills Curly most likely developed pill esophagitis (irritation of the esophageal lining), which causes painful acid reflux.

Speculation of Internal Injury

This is more presumptive than other sections.

Due to previous notes regarding the source and nature of Curly’s wounds, it is reasonable to assume that not only is smoke inhalation a contributing factor, but ash, technological equipment, and shrapnel also run the possibility of entering his lungs on impact.

However, when I was looking into photos of the cockpit post-crash it brought another potential inhalation/consumption risk to mind; the expanding foam.

It is known that it expands to cover potential weak spots in the ship, so the strength of the substance needs to withstand the pressure of space and maintain the artificial gravity. The cockpit is covered in it, so it is possible that in some way Curly was physically in contact with it when the crash occurred.

Whether he ingested or inhaled it something to consider, but externally there must have been some effort removing the foam from his already burnt skin.

So, what does this mean, Leo? What’s your point?

Well, there is no real point to be made. Everyone is going to interpret things differently! I just thought it would be cool to put forth some real world medical knowledge and compare it to canon! I AM STILL IN TRAINING and I have a lot to learn, but I wanted to put something together for you guys! You can take something from it, or nothing at all!

Final Notes:

Realistic Prognosis (prediction of outcome):

Without medical treatment total body third degree burns are NOT SURVIVABLE.

Extended periods of festering and infection would make skin grafting impossible (There is some wiggle room with this depending on how you perceive medical care to have changed- but I do think it's important to consider the limits of the human body).

🖤 If you made it to the end, thank you for reading! 🖤

Thank you so dearly to my love, my life, @13nn0x for the help compiling information and just generally being the sexiest person alive.

Some extra articles to refer to:

Note: Some articles include images but I put a warning on the ones that do.

(CW: Includes Photos) Clinical spectrum of electrical burns - A prospective study from the developing world by Ashok Kumar Sokhal, Krishna Lodha, and Rajkumar Paliwal. LINK

(CW: Includes Photos) Electro-Amputation of Lower Limbs Due to a High-Voltage Shock: Report of an Unusual Case by Suraj Sundaragiri, Senthil Kumaran M, Venkatesh Janarthanan, Chaitanya Mittal, Gerard Pradeep Devnath S. LINK

Ocular Burns by Gregory C. Patek, Amanda Bates, and Allison Zanaboni. LINK

Drug-Induced Esophagitis by Fatima Saleem and Ashish Sharma. LINK

Better among the two for Burn Mortality Prediction in Developing Nations: Revised Baux or Modified Abbreviated Burn Severity Index? by Sheerin Shah, Renu Verma, Rajinder K Mittal, Ramneesh Garg. LINK

[loganhowlettshousewife]

logan howlett x curvy!reader

series masterlist - my masterlist

warnings: smut, oral (fem!receiving), thigh fucking, mentions of unprotected piv, very soft and loving, anyone can technically read it but it was written with a curvy reader in mind

logan’s hands always somehow find their way to your thighs. he likes to squeeze the flesh, feeling the dips in the fat when his fingers dig into your skin, making temporary divots there that burn with his touch long after he’s let go.

you wish, sometimes, that his fingers would leave marks, a tattoo of his hand on the inside of your thigh, a reminder that the phantom touch you constantly feel was real, and it will be again the moment he finds you after classes are finished, guiding you to your shared room in the mansion and ignoring the calls of both your names as you pass by other mutants vying for your attention.

when he’s angry, when he’s frustrated, when he’s annoyed, his hands end up on your thighs, sneaking under the skirts that you began to wear more often once your relationship with him went from friends to more. he knows you wear them for him, so he can have easy access - you see it in the slant of his mouth, the knowing glint in his eyes, the smirk he flashes in your direction as he traces your thighs under the table.

but it’s not just a balm he uses to soothe the pains of a hard day - even when he’s in a pleasant mood he’ll find some excuse. he’ll claim to deserve a reward for getting through a long day without stabbing anybody with his claws, and when you relent as you always do, he’ll smile as he watches the flesh move, staring like they’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.

his absolute favourite thing is to bury himself between your thighs, eating you out until you’re overstimulated, squirming both away from him and pushing closer, your body unable to decide which it wants. he begs you to crush him, says he’d be grateful to die between your thighs, despite the fact that with his enhanced strength it’s pretty much an impossibility.

it’s what brought you to the here and now, both you and logan completely undressed, your pussy so wet it’s dripping a puddle onto the sheets, logan’s cock achingly hard. but he refuses to fuck you, not yet, not until he gets to spend quality time with his favourite part of you.

he presses kisses to every inch of skin on your thighs, slapping them gently just to watch the fat jiggle, groaning before mouthing another wet kiss onto said patch of skin, making sure to leave you with marks to remind you of him.

“fucking gorgeous, darlin’,” he mumbles against your thigh, nipping and sucking until yet another bruise starts to form. no one ever gets to see these hickeys but you and him - it’s not a way to tell everyone else you’re taken and to back off, not another jealous stunt to keep away potential suitors, instead it’s just for the two of you.

you can’t tell if minutes or hours pass by. your inner thighs burn from the scratch of his beard as he eats you out, tongue and fingers expertly working together to bring you to your peak. he knows your body as well as you do by now, potentially even better since his longer fingers are always able to reach where you never can, and he knows to keep going even when you’re crying and begging that it’s too much. 

the pain of overstimulation fades into a dull pleasure, your mind feeling fuzzy with it. he waits for you to return to yourself before flipping you around, expertly manoeuvring you into whatever position he wants for tonight. it’s easy to give up control to him, easy to let him do whatever he wants to your body, chase his own pleasure after he so generously brought you your own.

you jolt slightly when his hands spread your thighs apart, your eyes fluttering open to observe the sight of him spreading lube on the skin there. he smiles apologetically when you wince at the cold feeling, and rubs it in until it warms up between your bodies.

“this okay?” he asks, and you hum your agreement.

you’ve done this before, him fucking in between your thighs. it makes him cum faster than any other position, makes him go feral in a way you can’t even get by offering to let him cum inside of you. like a touch-starved virgin he never lasts very long, so he always makes sure to get you off before he does anything for himself, arguing that your pleasure is more important than his, that he’d do anything if he knew it’d make you feel good.

it’s horrible and gross and romantic and makes your heart flutter like a butterfly in your chest, your ribs acting as a cage, the only thing stopping it from fluttering so hard it exits your body. sometimes, you feel you might truly die from logan’s words, the softness he never shares with anyone else, the vulnerability he affords you.

he lines himself up to fuck into the tight space between your thighs, moaning at the warm tightness of you around him. he’s gripping at your arms like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, doesn’t know where to place them, scared to touch you in case he presses too hard, loses himself in the moment and forgets that his strength much surpasses your own. he holds onto you like an anchor before letting go just as quickly, his breathing ragged as his harsh pants and groans sound in your ears.

it’s the most beautiful melody, one you wish you could play on repeat forever, a song for only you.

every thrust has his cock sliding against your wet cunt, the head brushing against your clit in a way that has you arching your back against him, meeting his every thrust, changing the angle so it suits you better and hits that spot every time, sending sparks of white-hot pleasure up your spine.

every moan and cry that passes your lips only works to spur logan on. he’s animalistic as he fucks your thighs, one arm snaking around your chest to pinch and roll your nipple until it hardens into a peak under his ministrations. it’s rapid and sweaty and loud, your pleasure rising so quickly it catches you off guard. one second you’re not and the next you’re on the precipice, shouting out logan’s name in surprise.

it washes over you, like a wave taking you under, and for a few minutes or days or years you’re in total darkness. when you come back to yourself it’s to the feel of sticky cum on your thighs and logan curled around you. he’s patient while your breathing calms, heart rate lowering back down to a normal level before he moves away from you.

“i’m just leaving to run a bath,” he says, waits for your agreement to make sure you’re in the right headspace to be left alone, shuffles into the ensuite bathroom to prepare the ridiculously bubbly baths that you adore and he always complains are excessive.

you hear the sound of the water running, can imagine him kneeling beside the tub with the fancy bubble bath soap that you used to only buy for yourself as a treat but now seems to never run empty. 

he comes back minutes later, though you can’t be certain as your sense of time is a blurred mess, carries you into the bathroom despite your protests that you could probably, most likely, maybe walk on your own the few feet of distance required, helping you into the bath. you sigh as the warm water washes over your muscles, an instant relaxation seeping into your bones, a private smile curling on your lips.

you’re lucky the tub in his bathroom is big enough to accommodate two, allowing him to settle behind you, pulling you into his chest.

“thank you,” you say, twining one of your hands in his, staring at the contrast, his rough calloused hands in yours.

“i know a way you can thank me,” he says, only half serious, his unused hand spreading possessively on your thigh. he knows it won’t happen, not tonight, not right now, but he likes the way it makes you squeal out his name in a reproachful tone. he just laughs, happy, a sound that makes you smile in turn.

diversity december taglist: @raeinyourdreams @meetmypointlessaddiction @chubbyhedgehog @yxtkiwiyxt @isepod @dis-plus-fanfic-reblog-writes

curvy reader: @spencerswh0r3 @seasonofthenerd @thegothempress @yourlocalmerchgirl

[hayatheauthor]

Have u done a post on anatomy of swordfight? Or like weapons in general. I have a lot of different weapons planned out: bow, different types of swords, daggers, shields, spears, etc. I can't find a single proper guide explaining how to write fight scenes for these that make sense.

The Anatomy of Writing a Sword Fight

Thank you for the ask! I really love your ideas/reqs and will be making at least 2 more blogs as a reply to this ask (that will cover bows etc). For now I've gone with swordfights.

This guide dives into the technical aspects of sword fighting—from the types of swords and injuries to the medical realities of treating these wounds.

My long-form posts are usually filled with long detailed paras but this time I wanted to focus more on the 'facts' and had a lot of things to cover so I stuck to concise pointers for each area. That being said, feel free to ask follow-up questions if needed!

Understanding the Blades

Firstly, here's a quick breakdown on the types of swords and their impact on injuries

Longswords Longswords are double-edged, straight blades often used with two hands. They cause deep slashes capable of severing muscles and tendons, and thrusts that can puncture organs or arteries. Heavy blows can also break bones.

Rapiers Rapiers are thin, pointed blades designed for thrusting. They cause precise punctures targeting vital organs or arteries. Less effective for slashing but deadly in skilled hands.

Katanas Katanas are curved, single-edged blades optimized for slicing. Their shape allows for those gory slashes that can amputate limbs or expose bones. Thrusts can also be fatal.

Sabers A saber is a curved blade with one sharp edge, typically used on horseback. These blades are designed for slashing, often causing wide, shallow wounds.

Short Swords and Daggers Smaller blades that are used for close combat can sometimes fall under the sword umbrella based on their shape and length. A Jambiya for example is categorised as a 'short sword'. These work for deep puncture wounds in tight quarters. Can sever arteries or puncture the heart or lungs.

In short, the design influences the wounds. Remember: 

Straight blades are versatile, causing both slashes and thrusts.

Curved blades focus on slicing, leaving gaping wounds.

Thin blades like rapiers target precision strikes to critical areas.

Types of Sword Injuries

As mentioned above I'm trying to cut to the chase with this blog so for each injury type, I've covered what I think are the key points. These are the appearance, severity, blood loss caused by this type of wound, and pain levels. I think these four basically cover everything a writer needs to know when picking their poison. 

Slash Wounds

Appearance: Long, open cuts with jagged or clean edges depending on the blade.

Severity: Superficial slashes may damage only the skin and fat layers, but deeper cuts sever muscles, tendons, and even arteries.

Blood Loss: Significant, especially if major arteries like the femoral (thigh) or brachial (arm) are cut.

Pain: Immediate burning or stinging, with sharp increases if nerves are involved.

Thrust Wounds

Appearance: Small entry wounds but potentially deep and catastrophic internal damage.

Severity: Can puncture vital organs such as the heart, lungs, liver, or intestines.

Blood Loss: Often internal, leading to hidden dangers like haemorrhaging or collapsed lungs.

Pain: Stabbing pains that radiate outward, especially if organs are pierced.

Blunt Force Injuries

Appearance: Bruising, swelling, or fractures from strikes with the flat side or hilt.

Severity: Can lead to broken bones, ruptured vessels, or concussions.

Blood Loss: Minimal unless skin is broken.

Pain: Deep aches or sharp, localized pain from fractures.

Assessing the Severity of Wounds

When assessing the severity of a wound, there are a few important things to keep in mind. To make it easier, I've put together a quick checklist to help you out.

Location: Wounds to the head, neck, or chest are often life-threatening. Injuries to limbs are less fatal but can lead to significant blood loss.

Depth: Shallow cuts are often cosmetic but painful. Deep wounds risk severing arteries, damaging organs, or causing fractures.

Angle: Oblique cuts may glance off bones or armor. Direct thrusts to unprotected areas are far more dangerous.

What Happens When Each Area is Wounded

It's kind of a given that each area of the body is different and would thus cause different reactions when pierced. While many writers stick to the 'blood dripping from the mouth, hand desperately clutching the wound' look, I think it's a good idea to consider the medicinal side of your injuries.

Are there arteries in this area? Vital organs? Muscle and tissue? Here's a quick breakdown of those questions (no I haven’t mentioned every area or organ of the body):  

Limbs

Forearms and Upper Arms: Severing the brachial artery results in rapid blood loss. Cuts to tendons disable grip strength or arm movement.

Thighs: The femoral artery is a critical target. Damage here leads to exsanguination within minutes if untreated.

Calves and Feet: While less life-threatening, injuries here severely limit mobility and can cause nerve damage leading to paralysis.

Abdomen

Liver: Heavy bleeding due to its vascularity. Potentially fatal without intervention.

Stomach: Leakage of acidic contents causes severe internal infections.

Intestines: Punctures lead to sepsis from spilled waste material.

Kidneys: Severe back pain and rapid blood loss from renal artery damage.

Chest

Lungs: Punctures cause pneumothorax (collapsed lung), leading to difficulty breathing and chest pain.

Heart: Even small cuts are often fatal due to rapid blood loss and cardiac tamponade (fluid pressure around the heart).

Ribs: Fractures can puncture lungs or other organs.

Neck

Jugular Vein or Carotid Artery: Severing either leads to death in under two minutes from blood loss.

Trachea: Obstruction causes immediate respiratory distress.

Spinal Cord: Severance leads to paralysis or death.

Back

Spinal Cord: Injuries vary from numbness to total paralysis depending on the location.

Kidneys: Vulnerable to back stabs; severe bleeding and pain radiating to the abdomen.

Face/Head

Cheeks: Slashes leave disfiguring scars but are rarely fatal.

Eyes: Punctures result in blindness and intense pain.

Skull: Blunt force may cause concussions or fractures; penetrating wounds can be fatal if they reach the brain.

Treating Sword Fight Injuries

In the chaos of a sword fight, providing immediate care can mean the difference between life and death. The first priority is to stop the bleeding. For deep cuts or arterial wounds, use a clean cloth or pressure bandage to compress the injury. If the bleeding doesn’t subside, especially in limb injuries, apply a tourniquet above the wound, ensuring it’s tight enough to restrict blood flow without causing further damage. 

Once bleeding is controlled, stabilize the victim. Immobilize fractures with makeshift splints, and in cases of suspected spinal injuries, avoid moving the victim unnecessarily to prevent exacerbating the damage. Finally, cleaning the wound is critical to minimize infection risks. Remove debris carefully and irrigate the wound with clean water if possible. Though battlefield medicine is rudimentary, these steps provide a fighting chance for survival.

Also, one thing people forget to go over is temperature. Keeping the victim warm is essential, as blood loss can lead to hypovolemic shock, which compromises the body’s ability to circulate oxygen. 

Historical vs. Modern Treatment

The approach to sword fight injuries varies dramatically between historical and modern contexts. While I can’t completely break down the differences, here’s (what I hope) is a quick overview that will aid in your research. 

Historically, treating wounds was rudimentary at best. Herbal poultices were applied to reduce inflammation, and cauterization—burning the wound to seal it—was a common but agonizing method to prevent bleeding and infection. Stitching techniques were crude, and the lack of sterilization meant infections like sepsis or gangrene were often fatal. 

Fret not, modern medicine offers a more hopeful prognosis. Sterile wound care, antibiotics, and surgical interventions allow for precise repairs to severed arteries, muscles, or organs. Advanced imaging technology can assess internal injuries, while blood transfusions and IV fluids combat shock effectively. 

This just underscores how important it is for writers to consider what timeline their story is set in. Sorry but your medieval prince won’t just have a full recovery after suffering a brutal gash, especially not if his only source of medicine was love interest’s xyz solution. Infections are a very real issue. In fact, most deaths during that time were due to infection. Do your research.

The Psychological Aftermath

The aftermath of surviving a sword fight extends far beyond physical wounds, leaving lasting emotional and psychological scars. Many survivors experience trauma or PTSD, manifesting as flashbacks to the battle, vivid nightmares, or an overwhelming sense of anxiety, especially in situations that trigger memories of the fight. I would absolutely love to see people incorporate this in their writing! If your modern OCs can get flashbacks and nightmares after a single gun altercation what makes you think the medieval ones won’t experience something similar? 

Survivor’s guilt is another common burden, particularly if the character witnessed comrades die or was forced to make life-and-death decisions during combat. These emotional struggles can deeply shape their personality, making them more cautious, resentful, or even vengeful. Villain arc here we come! 

One thing to remember; physical limitations compound the psychological toll. Permanent injuries like chronic pain, reduced mobility, or disfigurement can remind a character daily of their ordeal, influencing how they interact with others and navigate the world.

As a writer it’s important to take recovery into account. Exploring these aspects adds depth to the character’s recovery arc, making their journey more relatable and human. 

Remember folks; a sword fight isn’t just a moment of action—it’s a fight as brutal and dangerous as any knife or gun altercation you can think of (if not worse). 

Crafting the Fight Scene

To end this blog, here are my (and various Google articles’) two cents on what you should be focusing on/keeping in mind during a swordfight. 

Writing a compelling sword fight requires balancing technical accuracy with emotional resonance. Pacing is key: alternate between rapid exchanges of blows and brief pauses to allow tension to build. These pauses provide an opportunity to describe a character’s thoughts, pain, or strategic planning. 

Sensory details bring the scene to life—capture the sharp clash of steel, the metallic tang of blood in the air, the searing pain of a wound, and the slickness of a sweat-soaked grip on a sword hilt.

Focus on the characters themselves to make the scene more engaging. Highlight their emotions, such as fear, determination, or desperation, alongside the physical toll of the fight. Show how fatigue sets in, how their breathing becomes labored, and how every swing of the blade drains their strength. 

Injuries should be portrayed realistically; instead of dismissing wounds as minor setbacks, use them to heighten tension. A cut to the leg might slow a character’s movements, while a stab to the shoulder could make wielding their weapon excruciating. 

Balancing these elements ensures your fight scenes are not only thrilling but also grounded in a visceral reality.

Resources for Writers

Books:

"The Book of the Sword" by Richard Francis Burton

"Medieval Swordsmanship" by John Clements

Videos:

YouTube channels like "Skallagrim" and "Scholagladiatoria" for sword reviews and techniques.They’re very helpful for all sorts of weapons actually so OP I think you should consider stalking their channels you’d find a TON of info (I get most of mine from them lol). 

Articles:

I don’t have any precise ones but to boost your research consider medical journals on trauma and wound care. Oh and historical accounts of duels and battles.

[flamingpudding]

Glitterbombs for rogues

A/N: I got sick over the holidays. So I did not do any of the writing I originally wanted to do. So instead of that Christmas Story you get this Mark Rober inspired little tidbit.

Tim had a new favorite Engineer Youtube. The boy was a bit younger than him but a genius Engineer judging by the hand full of videos Tim had marathoned through. According to the listed self-introduction part of the video, Danny was currently an engineering student in Gotham with the goal to work one day for NASA. (Tim held out some hopes that he maybe could snag the kid for WE if possible. He had already sent out an internship offer after the third video he had watched)

Either way, Danny had potential and ideas that borderlined on mad science. But made his videos of his little projects even more entertaining and interesting to watch. Tim's favorite so far was Danny's explanation on how he reconstructed his toaster so that it would launch itself into space after the third his roommate burned toast with it. He did buy his roommate a new toaster at the end of the video though.

Still Tim liked this guy and his videos. So with anticipation he clicked on one of the newer videos. The title having caught his attention: 'Why Glitter'.

Instead of the usual introduction bit with little highlights of Danny's previous project the video started out with a big fat warning in red letter to not attempt to replicate anything in the video. That had Tim very curious already, but then a little video clip following that had Tim spitting out the coffee he was just sipping from.

Thankfully he missed spitting on his phone, still he jumped out of his cozy bed where he had been watching YouTube on his phone and hurried over to his laptop. The video, meanwhile, was continuing playing. He could hear the usual music from the introduction part as well as Danny's voice explaining his reasosn -which were valid, Tim had to agree with some of them- once that part was done.

By now he had fired up his laptop and was researching. The video in the background was explaining how Danny had build his Glitterbombs similar to the once another youtuber had but slightly modified them since he was not going to use fart-spray. Tim eyes widened as he found the first correlating news articles, wondering how they hadn't seen them sooner, but a glance at the date revealed that they were only posted a couple of hours ago.

Danny in the video was no explaining about his fist chooses victim and Tim dived onto his bed from his desk to get his phone back in his hands. Wide eyed, he watched as Danny obviously with a GoPro strapped to his head, crawled through what looked like an air vent. Once he reached an opening he looked through the slits into what appeared to be Riddlers hide out. Danny took the Camara of his head so that he could grin into it making the sign for silence as he barely contained his own chuckles. The other then waited for a moment, the camera work now getting wonky and the video even glitching out but a second later Danny was back in focuse before pointing down and then directing the Camara to his view. There in Riddlers hideout now sat Danny's self engineered glitterbomb.

"No he didn't..." Tim muttered as the video cut to a different scene. Danny was now walking through the sewers, humming cheerfully while explaining why he chose who he choose.

Another cut and... Tim spluttered. How the hell did Danny manage to just walk into Arkam?! So he hadn't seen wrong at the beginning of the video.

Growing paller with every cut on how Danny delivered his self-engineered Glitter bombs, Tim started to fear for his new favorite youtubers safety. Thankfully he had already done his work on Danny's person when he sent the internship offer. Now he just needed to get Danny to freaking safty.

He dragged himself to his laptop still in disbelieve as various clips of the rogues getting glitterbombed from the bombs perspective started playing. And yep, he definitely didn't see wrong now in the beginning. The Joker was one of Danny's chooses victums. Aside from the fact that he was so going to download and save that video for eternity as well as share it with his brothers and friends, (because as funny as it was that most of them were Gotham rogues, Luther and another millionaire by the name of Masters had also been made victims.), he still had to figure out how to ensure this definitely insane youtubers safer from the warmth of 90% of their rogues now.

Great newly discovered favorite youtuber has just painted a big fat red target on himself.

Tim was just about to call everyone in when a bonus at the end of Danny's video started to play.

He recognized that safe house.

He recognizes the weapons displayed on the walls also.

Oh... that's...

Still laughing Tim still sent out a message to everyone. When asked why all he did was sent them the link to the video with to timestamps.

The first one of the Joker getting glitterbombed

The second one being Red Hood getting glitterbombed.

[itstheghostofmypast]

Sick Leave

Mafia AU Choi San x (f) Wife Reader

Summary: Listening to your boss is important. Listening to your colleague is important, and most of all, listening to your WIFE is VITAL.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort- tinge of fluff

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Gore, Torture, strong language.

Word Count: 2.3k

Read Time: 11 min

Rating: PG- 17

Networks: @k-labels

A/N: I was supposed to post something else first, but then I had the URGE to write something like this. I hope ya'll like it! It has the much needed girlboss vibes.

"Did you find it?" The old man, Mr.Byun as he had introduced himself, huffed out a puff of smoke, smirking when the woman tied to the chair infront of him coughed, clenching her eyes shut to decrease the burning.

"The longer you take to give us his location, the longer you'll have to wait here," the lewd man leaned closer, trying to get a better look at the pretty potential toy tied up in front of him, "Trust me, being secretary of the year won't be worth it- I can't control my boys for so long, ya know."

With a soft sigh you opened your eyes and leaned back a bit, eyes flickering from the fat ugly manwhore to the space behind him, trying to gather intel for future plans. Honestly it pissed you off how you had decided to work over time and then had the tough luck of being kidnapped, honestly, could this night get any worse- oh yes, you wore a skirt today. Of all the days to be sick, that bastard had to take a sick leave today, did he ever listen to you? No.

Did he listen to you when you were explaining the coloured filing system? No, that's exactly why you were working late, trying to fix the atomic mess of his files. Did he listen to you when you had urged he wore warmer clothes? No, because his 'big built' was enough to keep him warm. Did he take you seriously when you had seriously advised him about the security risks? No, he had not, because 'My boys will handle it'. At this point, you were sure that once you were out of this mess, you'd rough up not only that bastard but his 'boys' too.

"How long have I been here for?"

Your tone was firm, yet composed enough to tick off the man before you, as you continued to look past him- honestly, ugly things were not your suit, you had always leaned towards prettier, more useful things, lifestyle, people- a more elegant aesthetic as you had tried to explain to him and his boys once all of you had begun to work together- a partnership you had offered when a certain mountain had caught your interest, the night you had barged into your brother's private clinic, demanding the reason behind his absence for a family dinner-, 'One must look elegant during the toughest of times'.

"Aw, doll, if you tell us where to find that bastard I'd be happy to let you go-"

"Your lack of intellectual back up and poor set up seems to be wasting my time, I charge per minute," You cut him off, crossing a leg over the other, "It's disappointing how you assumed to be on the same level as, well, me." You nodded towards the right of the space you were currently in, "You're all sloppy, that door isn't even locked-"

A loud slap echoed across the warehouse, followed by the thump of his chair. He was furious, the stubby man, standing above you stared you down with a kind of hatred you were all too used to, as your eyes flickered to meet his- he looked like a constipated bull. God, you should stop spending time with Wooyoung.

"Listen up bitch," his fingers gripped your hair, your once neatly combed back bun being brutally ruined, oh God, you'd have to take a long bubble bath after this. The thought of him running his greasy fingers through your soft locks irked you, but your lips betrayed you, curling into a smirk, the tip of your tongue running over the cut on your freshly bruised lower lip, watching him continue his monologue.

"I don't know how much that bastard pays you or what he has on you but," his grip in your hair tightened, tugging you closer, your nose scrunching at the unpleasant odour- perhaps that was the last nail in the coffin.

A loud slash was heard, followed by the howl of the man who stumbled back, only for you to grip his collar and turn him around, kicking him behind the knee to have him topple over. A Cheshire like grin plastered on your face as you gripped the fowl thing by his hair, ensuring your nails dig into his skin, looking at all of his goons aiming at you.

"Sorry boys, but I don't like playing rough, especially with dirt," You shrugged, twirling the blade between your fingers, eyes flickering to the sound of a gun clock, the tip of your blade pinched the skin of the man who gasped, "You boys really should do your research."

Before anyone could react the doors burst open, and several gunshots echoed in the warehouse, you watched as one of the men ran towards you, only to be pulled back by his coat, you watched as he gasped up in horror at the sight of the man with blood dripping off his face, his extravagantly large fur coat hanging off his shoulders- no, no, this man did not come here in his pyjamas.

The supposed boss man watched in horror as the man they had been doing all of this for was busy abusing the assailant, stomping on his chest with no mercy, his knuckles digging into the fallen man's face before he picked him up by the collar, to get a better aim- he was going to do it. His signature, that's how you know this man had struck, each man in his team had a specific, blood curdling signature, a mark they'd leave behind. That's how you knew that Ateez was here, a general corporation, with the general capitalistic approach during the day, but a darker role during the night.

Kim Hongjoong would slice the corners of the lips, creating a joker like smile. Park Seonghwa was known to shoot right between the eyes. Out of all of them, he was the most merciful. Jeong Yunho, the sniper would shoot into one ear and out the other to kill, but his signature was his bursting bullet, one that he would intentionally shoot into a muscle and the bullet would burst releasing a painful toxin. Kang Yeosang's signature was equally gruesome, the beautiful Prince of a man would disfigure the face of his rivals, unlike the brute Song Mingi, who assumed his signature was unique, but as Jung Wooyoung claimed, 'busting knee caps ain't new, bro'. Which was an iconic statement to pass considering how he too would follow the similar route, but target the knuckles and the youngest, well, he just learnt from his big sister, one clean slice, though his splatter was nothing compared to the shower her slice was famous for, an ability that had their mountain of a man on his knees for her.

The loud crunch had the man recoil, only to wince when she poked his neck with the blade again, her grip on his hair tightening. He was waiting for his chance to overpower this sleazy secretary-

"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO STAY IN BED!?"

Appalled at the tone, he glanced up at the woman who was glaring at the man before them, broad shoulders covered by the fur coat evidently slumping as he let go of the man with the punched in face-who was this woman?

"B-but I'm wearing something warm! I promise I took my medicine too before coming, and this coat is-"

"AND ARE YOU WEARING YOUR ANNIVERSARY GIFT?"

Anniversary? Wait, she was his wife?

"I am!" He smiled proudly, flailing it around, the dirt around him turning into a dust cloud, "My wife's so thoughtful! So smart and caring, this is the comfiest thing ever-"

"Too bad we'll have to burn it."

"Eh?"

Laughter broke out in the warehouse, a particular witch like cackle the loudest as Byun took this as an opportunity to escape. Pushing you backwards and turning to you, "YOU BITCH-"

San's eyes widened at the futile attempt of the pathetic man whom he pounced at, grabbing him by the back of his collar, holding him still, as his wife's arm flung in pure reflex, a slice so loud that all of them could feel her boiling anger, so much so that Mr.Choi who was holding the bleeding man forgot to let him go, holding him right infront of his wife- oh they were so going to get an earful afterwards.

What signed the deal was how you had managed to slice his neck, though he was facing you, and let's just say showering in a lowlife's blood is not how you wanted to end your Friday night. All of them stood there in horror, watching as you stood there, blood dripping off your face and onto your stained clothes, oh no- Choi San was a dead man and all of them knew that when they sprung into action once their boy dropped the body, stepping over it to run to his wife, "I am so sorry-"

Your raised hand stopped him in his tracks, only for him to crouch to his knees, beside you, and rubbed your back soothingly when you began to hurl out your dinner. Everyone around you runs around to clean up and prepare to evacuate.

"Here," Jongho, who was now standing beside his sister who was still vomiting, handed his brother in law a packet of wet wipes, knowing very well how she'd now have to go for a fullscreen checkup too, isn't she lucky her brother's a doctor?

"Thanks man," San mumbled, not taking his eyes off you for a second, he had been feeling guilty all night, and now he just felt worse than before, not only did his sick leave have you kidnapped, he had noticed the cut on your lip and the bruise on your soft cheek the moment he had arrived, but his brute ways had put you in more danger- his pretty, precious doll who loved cleanliness a bit too much, ironic how this was your choice of work.

His eyes softened when you stopped, gasping for air as you tilted your head up, flinching when you felt the cold, damp cotton of the wipe on your cheek, this better have been a disinfectant too. He gave you a gentle smile when you met his tender gaze, though his fingers were busy cleaning up your face and neck, "I'm sorry..." he whispered before slamming you into his chest, causing you to gasp at the force.

"S-stop it! You idiot! You'll get blood all over the coat!" You struggled against him, feeling his arms around you tightened, his hair tickling your face when he shook his head, burying his face in your neck, causing you to sigh. "You're sick... your immunity is already low. You didn't need to come with them tonight... I would've been fine, Sannie."

The man silently stood up, not before pulling you up in the process, only to toss you over his shoulder, ignoring your screech, and how you were hitting his back with your fists,"Let's go home." He declared ensuring to step on the face of the man who had led a poor husband who was on sick leave to come save his wife, who was technically his world- and world bank, the financer of Ateez, the person who, all of them could blindly rely on, especially Hongjoong, considering his management system was not the best before she had arrived.

The crunch caused her to slap his back, barking at him to let her go, only for him to playfully slap her bottom, giggling when he felt his wive scream, "I'LL BLOODY KILL YOU!"

Would you really, though? No, you'd just have him take you to the tub, let you enjoy a good soak, and knowing him, he'd dive into the tub like it was personal pool, either way you knew the rest would handle everything else, you trusted them with your life, you trusted him with your life. Especially when he gently let you down and sat you in the back seat, smiling at you like the goof he was behind closed doors, "I'd kiss you but I don't want you to get sick."

"I think we're way past that precaution, Mr.Choi."

He giggled at your response, pushing you further onto the seat as he closed the door behind him, the driver who was already on the other side of the partition began to drive as soon as he heard the door close, knowing not to disturb them.

.

Bonus:

Yeosang looked at the bodies and shook his head, "Eleven men to kidnap a single woman?" He mumbled before kicking a body, then glancing at Wooyoung, who was on his phone, "What are you doing?"

Wooyoung glanced up at him and snorted, "Maybe if you checked the group chat, you would've known."

Jongho snatched his phone and shoved it in his pocket, "Stop placing stupid bets, she's your boss, no?"

A static voice rang in their ear piece, "Oh please, you're not the one driving a hazardous couple," Yunho narrated, "I'm just saying, she's gonna be on sick leave for a day or two at this rate."

Mingi, who was staring at Byun's disfigured face, mumbled to himself, "Knowing how riled up San was, I wouldn't be surprised if she takes a maternity leave."

"Good God, shut up all of you!" An exasperated voice rang in their ears, "I am in no mood of this shit, hurry up, clean up so we can head back to the base, it's bad enough San's sick, we don't need her getting sick aswell!" Hongjoong who tossed an empty gun aside yelled as he walked out of the warehouse, followed by a collected Seonghwa who just shrugged, "Don't worry guys, he's just afraid our World Bank and perfectionist filer will be on sick leave for a while."

The gang collective laughed at their leader, who just groaned in response about to retort when they heard,

"San's asleep, and I heard all of you, expect to see a massive cut in this month's salary. Mrs.Choi out."

Oh, they really should have known better, Mrs.Choi wasn't the nicest when it came to the health of her precious Mr.Choi.

[ozzgin]

So like unsure if this is worth meentioning or not, but I drew what I think the yandere school and darling school will look like, can you take a wild guess which is which?

(Sorry if the image is shit, the drawing was TINY)

I thought you were going to say you drew some characters, not like, whole 3D buildings. Holy cow, as someone who's (unsuccessfully) made the occasional house in Sims 4: big flex. I'm jealous.

At the time I started writing this post, I did notice the tiny scribbles on the welcome signs. So while the answer has been found, I will give you my pre-discovery reasoning as to why both cases work (at least in my mind).

First picture immediately made me think of a cute, dreamy school made for Darlings. Everything is nice and welcoming, you've got a little pond and a particularly slithering path, made for cozy walks. They're not in a hurry. They take their time, admire the scenery, and potentially miss out on someone stalking them: the true nature of a Darling.

But then I thought, well, alternatively, this could be an old, prestigious building fit for Yandere School and its rich history. It's imposing, somber, away from the city bustle, with a big tower so them hawk ass students can spy on others and hone their skills. The stalking tower.

For the second drawing, my initial assumption was "this must be a prison structure to keep the maniacs away from civilians". The closed inner courtyard and fat gate to the right ensure that the yandere students won't escape to do some borderline criminal tomfoolery. Eat your sandwich inside, you damn crazy rascal. Every now and then the nurse will receive a student with small burns or superficially stabbed rump: a failed attempt at jumping the electric, barbed fence to chase after (Y/N) (the only one allowed outside during school time).

Then I started doubting my theory. The opposite may be just as true: the inner yard and gated community could keep the danger outside instead. In other words, making sure that the poor Darling students can enjoy their breaks without the dangers of being stalked. Or maybe it's where they train their potential future imprisonment. "It's a little uncomfortable", one student confesses, curled up in a cage in the designated capture area. "You must work on your flexibility", the teacher remarks, observant and thoughtful. "See, you're too stiff in your knees. It adds pressure. Mind you, this is a generously sized cage. Some yanderes might go even smaller, so you should be prepared."

[freaknloser]

Buff!Male x Chubby!FemaleReader Part 5

⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, minor sexual content, angst, slow-burn, fluff, a fat "joke". Context: The day leading up to your date was fairly uneventful, minus a customer that seemed to peek behind your customer service mask. You try to keep your nerves contained until you're delivered to the address Daniel gave you. And—oh. Um... Where the hell are you?! Word count: 7,528 │ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │

Hihihi! Look who's back! (～￣▽￣)～ This is definitely the longest thing I've written in a long time, I just couldn't find a good place to end. I won't lie, it took a lot out of me, but I couldn't stop! As always, I hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait! ♡

[Comments, asks, and messages make me smile. Constructive criticism welcomed and encouraged! Let me know what you think and if I should continue this series.]

“This register open?”

A woman’s voice jarred you from your daydream, your eyes refocusing, head jerking from the palm of your hand. You stood straight, looking at the elderly woman with a small smile gracing her wrinkled lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, mirroring her smile. “I’m sorry about that.”

She chuckled, taking the items from her basket to place on the conveyor belt one-by-one. Small beeps rang out, mixing with the others in the background, as you dragged each barcode over the red laser.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart,” she drawled, a southern accent stretching her words into a thick, warm sound; even with the small click in the back of her throat making her words crackle. “Ya’ seem ta’ be miles away… A boy?”

Your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, acid rising to fill its place. Your date was in less than four hours and you wasn’t sure how to feel. Daniel had never shown you anything less than respect; never pushing back anytime you said no, doting you with cute pet names, complimenting you any chance he could get.

Yet reminiscing on the way his voice changed filled you with dread.

“You’re observant,” you finally responded.

She observed you with careful eye, nodding her head slowly, a knowing look on her face. “I been around a while, young lady.”

You finished scanning her things, stated her total, and rested your palms against the cold metal of the register. Her hands dug through her purse, movements slow as syrup. Yet you were patient, even helping when she couldn’t see the small screen of the card reader.

After paying, she took a moment to offer you some unsolicited advice.

“Ya’ know,” she started, gathering her bags in fragile hands, “I’m jus’a silly ol’ lady, but I hope you’ll hear me out. I had a man courtin’ me when I was your age. He was so handsome, the nicest person ya’ ever could meet…”

She looked to you once more, the loss showed clearly, her brows turned up and lips down. The years of longing and sorrow permanently etched into deep lines on her face, making your heart clenched in your chest from the sheer intensity of it all.

“But my mama didn’t approve an’ I was too scared a disappointin’ her. Now, I don’t know why you’re scared, but don’t let it stop you, too.”

That was it; she gave you a small wave accompanied with an even smaller smile then shuffled towards the sliding doors. You blinked, staring at her small figure disappear through the doors, the glass sliding closed behind her.

“Very observant,” you muttered to yourself.

The rest of your shift wore on with forced smiles and empty smalltalk. Cash exchanged, cards swiped, receipts given—but all you could think about was the date and the older woman who seemed to look into your soul with her piercing grey eyes. The last four hours of your shift somehow dragged by even slower, a mix of eagerness and panic making the hours feel like days.

Amanda picked you up when your shift ended, promising to help you prepare for either a great date or a potentially soul-crushing one. Your silence led her to fill the space. While you tried not to think about what the night could hold, she was rambling about work—almost talking about the mysterious blonde man—before shifting to rant about her landlord. She paid almost twice the amount you did, and her apartment looked nicer; but at least your landlord would come to your aid if you called about a broken water heater.

Soon after, you were in your cluttered apartment, one elbow on the second-hand vanity in your bedroom, leaned so close to the mirror that you breath subtly fogged the glass. You examined your makeup, a finger coming to smudge away a small smear of lipstick trying to escape your bottom lip line. The bed creaked behind you as Amanda rolled onto her back.

“I mean, it could be nothing,” she continued, her hair splayed across your mattress like flames. Her head tilted to look over at you. “And it probably is. You have been known to overthink.”

“Don’t,” you snipped, turning in your chair to face her.

“I’m just saying. Remember that time you were convinced that tree outside your window was a man trying to break in?”

You gasped, feigning offense with a hand coming to cover your heart. “I just said ‘don’t’ and you bring up my trauma anyway.”

She rolled her eyes with a scoff, bringing her phone back to her face. “You’re so theatrical.”

“Pot, meet kettle.”

You smirked, standing from your chair to make your way to your closet. Your movement grabbed her attention from her phone, which was quickly tossed to the side, and she somehow managed to beat you through your closet door. She assumed her self appointed role of picking your dress, digging through the options carefully.

“I don’t know, ‘Manda. I just—”

“You’re worried he’s going to peel your skin off and wear it like a suit?”

“Hey!” Your voice came out as a bark, louder than you meant, but you still took a half-step towards her with a finger in her face. “There’s a documented case of someone actually doing that! And there was a guy that made furniture with skin!”

Her upper lip curled in revulsion as she looked at you, hands grasping two different dresses held by plastic hangers.

“You know the weirdest shit,” she commented with unconcealed disgust.

You shrugged your shoulders upwards once, watching her go back to her self-appointed task of picking out your wardrobe. “… I read a lot.”

She finally landed on a dress, jerking it from the metal rod, turning and holding it to your body. You complained, saying you didn’t want your arms exposed, and were met with a sern frown.

You looked in the full length mirror, fingers hooking in the top of the dress to tug it upwards. Of course she picked strapless, why wouldn’t she? And more importantly, why do you still own this thing when your breasts struggled to stay contained in the built-in bra?

You swiveled towards her, the satin navy fabric flowing to your ankles, your hands coming to your hips while giving her a dissatisfied look—and you were met with one in return.

“Let me try again,” she said, already disappearing back through the closet door.

You remind her with a raised voice: “He said it was a nice restaurant!”

Three dress changes later, you were slipping your heels on and grabbing your purse.

“I’m raiding your fridge while you’re gone,” Amanda chirped as you checked your makeup and hair once more in the mirror by the front door. She waited for no reply, already padding towards the kitchen. Only, prior to crossing the threshold, she stopped.

She turned on her heels towards you, her face devoid of any humor. Instead, her brows were knitted together and lips drawn into a tight line.

“Remember what we said?”

Hearing the concern in her voice, your head snap towards her. You studied her face for a moment ahead of trying to give a convincing smile.

“Yes. I have 360 and my location on, my phone is on 100%—”

“Check in every 30 minutes, even if it’s just a word. And if he gets weird: lock yourself in the bathroom and I’ll come get you.”

Oh, the joys of being a woman simply going on a date.

You nod your agreement, understanding the terms fully. While your first date went well, there were added stressors to this one. Without warning, Amanda was running at you, her small arms wrapping around your torso as well as they could.

“You’re going to be okay,” she muttered, but you felt maybe she was saying it more for herself.

Your arms wrapped around her tiny frame, hugging her tightly. Even with the weight of uncertainty, you still managed: “I’m going to be fine.”

Your heart sped more with each step, almost drowning out the sound of your heels echoing on the tile as you walked through the hallways. By the time you were crossing the sidewalk towards your Uber, your knees started to shake. You stared at the silver car as your pace slowed.

This was it, the car that would deliver you to whatever fate had in store for you.

After confirming your name, you crawled into the back seat. As the car pulled away from the building, your stomach twisted violently, as if you were free falling through the air with nothing to grab on to. The reality fully sitting in as your breathing quickened.

Your phone chimed from your purse: ‘on ur way? :)’

You didn’t reply; instead staring at the message as you sunk further into the faux leather seat. You double checked everything on your phone once more: Location on, Life360 sharing with Amanda, battery on 98 percent. The address he had texted you was nearby, luckily. It wouldn’t take her long to get to you if you did need her.

After a deep inhale through your nose, you replied as you slowly exhale through pursed lips until there was nothing left: ‘Yup! I’m almost there.’

The sound of a soft click keeping perfect rhythm almost slipped passed your ears; you glanced up, seeing an orange light flashing in time with the sound. You were close, you had followed the direction on the maps app on your phone about ten times, plotting out when to text Amanda; and this was it. ‘Almost to the place. Talk in 30.’

The car stopped moving, yet you just sat still; staring blankly at your phone.

“Uh… Ma’am?”

You shook your head, trying to realign your vision, glancing at the man behind the wheel.

“Oh, sorry. Thank you,” you croaked as you shoved the door open. Your heels clicked against the concrete as you stepped out into the dim glow of the fading sun. As soon as the door closed and you turned your back, the silver car was was speeding away.

You scanned the building, double checked the address, and you were sure your legs would give out from under you. It was nothing: an empty brick building that looked like it had been painted with tar. Obviously abandoned years ago, made clear by the sun-bleached ‘for rent’ sign in the window.

Your heart jumped into your throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Your blurred vision didn’t stop your eyes from darting around the building, and you silently begged that it was a prop that would fall away and reveal the real restaurant behind it.

Where were you? Why didn’t you look up the address to see where you were going? Are you suicidal or just stupid?

Your mind raced, quivering hands diving into your purse to find your phone—but out of nowhere, a deep voice rang out behind you, causing your hand to still as it breached the flap of your bag.

“Shortcake! You made it.”

Somehow, you managed to swiftly gather yourself, forcing a smile as mask to cover the fear lurking just below the surface. Turning towards him as you compelled the corners of your mouth to pull upwards.

“Wow…” It fell from his tongue with no thought. He stared; actually gawked. His jaw hanged slack, basking in the entirety of your form, in every dip and swell concealed beneath the soft black dress. “Your dress…”

You watched him slowly drink you in, shameless but appreciative. Your dress was low cut enough to show the curve of your neck, but covered the expanse of your shoulders. The way the black fabric stretched across your hips, the slit in the skirt offered a teasing peek of the soft skin just above your knee.

With small hearts reflecting in the depths of those blue eyes that seemed to threaten to steal your breath, he looked back into your eyes. The once forced smile you wore shifted into something genuine without you realizing.

“You look stunning. How are you more beautiful every time I see you?”

“Thank you,” you say softly, but his sweet words that threatened to make you blush didn’t quite hold enough power to achieve it. Not when the address you gave Amanda was a nothing more than a vacant building.

“But um…” You shot a glance at the darkened building over your shoulder once more, feeling your stomach flip and acid burn your throat. “It looks like the restaurant is closed…”

Daniel’s jaw ticked, his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. One of his hands slid into the pocket of his slacks, the other combed through his hair, the curl of hair that always refused to stay in place fell forward against his forehead.

“Please, don’t be mad.”

You waited a couple of seconds, but the only sound he made was the small slap of his palm slapping his thigh as he dropped his arm to his side. You observed closer; his eyebrows were slightly drawn upward, the once large smile now looking more forced.

“I can’t promise I won’t be,” you replied, holding his gaze.

His smile fell completely, and you swore you could see the vein jumping in his neck like his heart was racing—and that was because it was. Although Daniel was always cool and calculated, you never failed to crack his shell.

“Forgive me for lying, Y/N. I shouldn’t have.” His gaze dropped to your feet. “This isn’t where I planned on taking you…”

As he confessed, your heart kicked into overdrive, hammering in your throat as you struggled to swallow it down.

“I just-I wanted to surprise you,” he muttered, shame dripping from his words. His black oxford shoe scuffed against a pebble in front of him, kicking it away from the both of you, refusing to meet your glare. “It was stupid of me.”

“Daniel?”

His entire body went rigid as you spoke his name, but he still peeped up at you through his lashes like a kicked puppy.

“Wanting to surprise me isn’t an excuse for lying after I told you I would rather have my own ride.” How you managed to keep your tone so firm was beyond you, especially when your knees were almost rattling together under the long skirt of your dress.

Your words hit him harder than any punch ever had—because you were right. His face drew into a pout, complete with downcast eyes and a frown, drooped shoulders adding to the disappointment emitting from him.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked, shoving his other hand into his pocket, spine bending forward. “I didn’t think it through.”

If you weren’t so terrified, it would honestly be a entertaining sight; adorable even. Daniel: 6’3”, about 240 pounds of muscle, dressed in a full suit… and standing in front of you with his head down as if you were beating him.

“Daniel, please—”

He flinched, a full bodied shudder like your words could physically cut him.

“Stop being dramatic,” you huffed, folding your arms over your chest. “It just isn’t a good look, you know?”

He nodded frantically, quickly agreeing with your criticism before whispering, “I know.”

Risking a glance at you, it finally clicked. The breath left is lungs in a harsh hiss as his heart shattered in his chest. The look in your eyes, the shimmer that revealed what you were trying to hide. It was something he’s seen plenty of times, been the reason for more than he could ever attempt to count. You were scared; and for once, he regretted being the cause of someone’s fear.

“Y/N...” His hands came from his pockets, instinctually reaching towards you; but he stopped himself, twisting his fists to his chest.

“You’re right,” he spoke fervently, the tightening in his throat not slowing the words from spilling out, “of course you’re right. I shouldn’t have tricked you. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You didn’t budge, staying firm in your stance, somehow tricking yourself into thinking you were braver than you actually were. Though it probably was only due to the fact that a man who looked like he could pick up a small car was cowering in front of you.

“Let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, words almost disintegrating in the space between you. “I’ll do anything.”

“Give me the address of where you want to take me,” you demanded.

“Yes, yeah!” He nodded again, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

You followed suit, bringing your own out and forwarding his message to Amanda. You waited for a response, only getting question marks which led to your phone ringing. You answered, openly staring at Daniel as you explained what happened.

“Put me on speakerphone.”

“No,” you reply firmly, “I’m not doing that. I’m…” You fell silent, seeing the desperation in Daniel’s face. His face turning red as he held his breath, silently begging you for another chance.

“… I’m going to hear him out.”

The phone jerked away from your ear as curses and screams blared into your eardrum. After threatening the both of you, she was reduced to huffs and you were able to finish.

“I’ll text you when we get to the restaurant.”

Daniels spine straightened, a grin splitting his face as you hung up, avoiding more of Amanda’s high pitched protests. Your hand, still clutching your phone, jerked towards him to point a finger at his face as yours twisted into a scowl.

“This is the only time I will overlook a lie… Only because I can almost see why you would do it.”

“I promise, it wasn’t—”

“I believe you,” you said, cutting off his explanation. “Let’s just try to turn this night around.”

He agreed, bringing his keys from his pocket as he gestured towards a black car by the curb. Maybe it was a bad idea—it did sound like the beginning of a horror movie—but you followed him away from the vacant building, even as your brain and heart waged a war inside you.

A short, but silent, ride in a car that looked like it cost more than everything you owned collectively. You memorized the logo on the steering wheel, committing it to memory so you could look it up later. Something resembling a trident, and it was everywhere. On every headrest, the gear shift, even the small analog clock on the center of the dash.

You thought you knew what a new car smelled like—you didn’t. It was richer than any of the synthetic sprays, leather and warmth that you had nothing to compare to. You were so lost in admiring the interior, seeing the pride that went into every red stitch that lined every curve, you didn’t notice the extravagant building looming beside you until you felt the car stop.

“We’re here,” he whispered, shattering the silence of the cab. Your face snapped towards the window, seeing a young man in a red jacket trotting towards you.

“Where is ‘here’?”

“The Gilded Dish.”

He slid out his door, quickly making his way around to open yours. You ignored his outreached hand, standing on your own. He closed your door, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his chest at your denial, yet knowing he deserved it. You sent the text you promised before observing your surroundings.

The sound of a water fountain quickly found your ears, the only sound besides the traffic buzzing in the distance. Extravagant wasn’t a strong enough word, the place oozed wealth, practically laughing at your off-the-rack dress. Floor to ceiling windows, staff waiting to take keys, an abstract sculpture looming just inside the glass door.

Knowing he was pressing his luck, he still offered an arm, a nervous smile making the muscles in his chin twitch. “Ready?”

Feeling out of your element, you stepped closer, wrapping a hand around the firmness of his forearm.

“I thought we agreed on nothing fancy?”

“No,” his hand rested against the back of yours as he lead you to the door, “you said you didn’t see the point in spending so much on food. I said I did.”

You couldn’t argue, that was true. So, you remained quiet as you stepped inside. Walking through the door, you were met with the strong smell of wood, something you could confidently say had never been the first thing you’d noticed stepping into a restaurant. Spices and herbs lingered, but the musk of oak was almost overpowering.

A short woman appeared from behind a curtain, skin and bones with long black hair. She tried—and failed—to be welcoming as she scanned you, subtly unimpressed with what she was seeing. She asked for a name, seemingly uncaring to the presence of either of you.

“Daniel Sideris.”

Her neck audibly popped as her head snapped towards him, ignoring the open book on the podium in front of her to look at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.

“Oh! Of-of course! Mr. Sideris!” She swiftly straightened her posture, seemingly trying to make herself appear taller as one hand gestured towards a doorway. “Right this way.”

She turned and lead the way into a quiet dining room. The smell of wood faded, replaced purely by savory scents hanging like smoke in the air. You examined the dining room, you immediately felt foolish for thinking the outside looked so fancy because holy shit.

Deep purple fabrics draped from the walls, ebony wood tables with white ceramic plates and glassware strategically placed on top, a golden stand proudly holding a single white candle in the center. Then there was the open kitchen, which was something you thought only existed on television. A quiet hum of conversations gently overpowered by the lull of a piano being played from the corner of the room.

You were lead to a secluded table, bumping against Daniel’s side as you drank in the environment. He released your hand after a small squeeze, then pulled a chair, waiting patiently. Deciding not to press his luck, he didn’t allow his eyes drop to the top of your dress as you sat below him.

After carefully nudging your chair forward, he slid into his own across from you. “Have you been here before?”

He was obviously trying to make small talk; or maybe just get you to say something to show you didn’t hate him. You had to choke back a laugh, your chest tight as you held your breath. Only, he wasn’t laughing.

“Are you being serious?”

He studied you as if he was trying to solve a math equation. “I am.”

The laugh sprung out, your head tilting back as your mouth hinged open, hands coming to grip your stomach. You couldn’t hold back at the seriousness in his tone, or stop when every eye in the room narrowed at you.

Though he wasn’t sure what he had done to be graced with that rich sound, he relished in it anyway. He sighed deeply as the tightness in his shoulders melted.

“What’s so funny?”

You gained your composure, shaking your head from side to side as your laughter trailed into giggles.

“I’ve never even been in the driveway before,” you finally said as the grin clung to your face. “Fine dining isn’t really my thing.”

“Hmm…” His elbows came to the table, fingers steepling under his chin. “I doubt that, shortcake. Something tells me you just haven’t given it a chance before.”

“I just don’t see the point of spending a so much money and having nothing to show for it,” you retorted, pulling a menu to your face. While you had always been curious, you couldn’t justify spending so much and risk not enjoying it.

“But you will have something to show for it...”

The single white page lowered as you peered over it at him with your brows scrunched together, being met with dreamy eyes and a warm smile.

“A full stomach and a memory,” he finished. “The menu changes, too, so you’ll never have the same thing here twice.”

“Never?”

His response was a simple head shake.

“What if I like what I order and want it again?”

“I’ll make it for you,” he replied without hesitation, giving a small shrug of a shoulder to convey how little he cared to do so.

The cardstock held in your grip found its way to the table in front of you, though your fingers still held on. He just smiled at you, admiring the subtle shock written on your face.

“You cook?”

“No, but I’ll learn.”

His response came natural as rain, timely and genuine. Daniel knew he would do anything to be the reason you smiled, even if it meant taking up a hobby he was sure would make him the butt of every joke between his subordinates. None of that mattered, not if it meant hearing your laugh or being graced with the warmth of your smile.

Out of nowhere, a man with a thin mustache and upturned nose appeared at the side of your table, causing you to jump when he spoke, carefully extenuating every syllable of every word.

“Good evening, Mr. Sideris. I apologize for your—” He paused, glancing downwards at you, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “—wait… Would you like to begin your experience with a bottle wine?”

‘Experience’? It was dinner. Also: nice jab at your weight. How original!

Your eyes dropped back to the menu, trying to ignore the way your throat threatened to close and chest tightened. Daniel noticed your discomfort immediately, side-eyeing the server with an unapproving glare.

“Apologize.” It was one word, spoken level and controlled, but it held that sharpness. The same deep, dark tone you’d been stressing over. “Make it convincing.”

Before you could even fully look at him, the server was already starting his fast-spoken apology. His eyes were closed, shoulders bent towards you in a bow, head dropped in either shame or fear.

“I apologize, Miss. That was incredibly rude of me; I had no right to speak that way.” Terror made his frame tremble enough for his voice to shake. “I don’t know what possessed me. Please forgive me.”

“It… It’s okay,” you whispered, brain malfunctioning as a million questions flooded your skull.

“It’s not okay,” Daniel chimed in before turning his attention back to the smaller man.

“My favorite wine,” he said firmly, holding the man’s eyes with an intensity that made a chill run down your spine. “And have someone else bring it out. I don’t want to see you again.”

The server darted from your table, shouldering through a black door—never to be seen again throughout the night.

Turning your attention back to Daniel, you watched as a single hand tugged the buttons of his jacket open and a finger hooked in his tie to pull it slack. Slow and calm, like his tone alone the most threatening thing you’d ever heard outside of something echoing through a theater.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that,” he muttered, quiet and remorseful, a steady hand came to rest on the table. “He won’t bother you again, I promise.”

“Daniel?” You watched as his brows raised slightly at his name. “I have a question.”

“Of course! Ask away.”

Though you weren’t sure he would tell you the truth, or if you even wanted to know the truth, you drew in a steadying breath.

“What do you do for a living?”

His lips quirked into a smirk, yet something flickered in the depths of those ocean blues. “I own a few businesses.”

“A few? Impressive,” you remarked; and it really was. “That’s really interesting. What kind of businesses?”

“Just a couple of corner stores. A laundry mat, a nightclub. Boring stuff, really,” he said casually.

A new server arrived as he was finishing, remaining silent until Daniel was. As he presented a green bottles label to Daniel, who barely glanced, telling him everything about the wine from its name to the year it was bottled. After a small nod of approval, you watched as the server uncorked the bottle.

It was incredibly thought through, every flick of the man’s wrist was done with intent. You never knew up to that point that there was a way to open wine without either the signature POP or the small splash that always found a way to your white shirt. He poured nothing more than a small taste into a glass in front of Daniel.

“That doesn’t sound boring at all.” You glance at Daniel, who is watching you carefully track every movement of the server. If he hadn’t of ended up being such a dick, you would have kind of felt back for mentally berading the first server who called it a experience.

You watched as Daniel lifted the glass by the stim, swirling the deep burgundy liquid in the wine glass, carefully studying the way it clung to the crystal.

“It is,” he said flatly, bringing the glass to his lips to take a small sip.

It was all so natural, something he had obviously done to the point of becoming muscle memory. His glass came to the table with a click, he gestured towards the glass. The server gave a small bow before filling your glass before Daniel’s, every movement smooth and steady.

The smaller man spoke after placing the cork beside the wine bottle on the table, “I believe you haven’t been served. I apologize for the inconvenience. Would you like to hear the specials?”

You gasped as you realized you’d been too busy watching the man pour wine and using your menu as a mask instead of actually looking at it. Hands quickly jerking the paper from the table—and quickly realizing you didn’t know how to even begin how to pronounce most of the words punched onto the paper. Your internal panic didn’t go unnoticed.

“Take your time, cupcake,” he whispered sweetly. “If you have questions, ask. That’s why our server is here.”

His voice wrapped around you like velvet, comforting your growing anxiety. After a couple of questions, and a very patient server, you’d ordered chicken, though you still weren’t sure what it consisted of. Daniel ordered some lamb dish, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly. Another bow, then it was just the two of you again.

“I have no idea what I just got,” you joked, reaching for the glass of wine. As you took a drink, the rich and earthy with hint of sweetness flavor coated every crevice of your mouth.

He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why did you order it then?”

“Chicken is safe,” you said as if it were fact; and it just made his smile break into a grin.

“Fair. So, you asked about me—” That reminded you that you got a barebones answer. Why wouldn’t someone his age not want to brag about being a business owner? “—now it’s your turn. What do you do?”

You never really liked your job; the pay was shit and the customers were even worse, but the management was great and your co-workers were nice. Still, comparing a retail position to a owning businesses was enough to make your face feel warm.

“Oh, I, um… I work at Stitch and Stone at the mall.”

His brows furrowed. “The home goods store?”

“Yeah.” You almost grimaced, teeth clamped together tightly. “That’s it.”

“Okay, yeah. I wanted to make sure I had the right place,” he said as his expression relaxed. “I’ve never been. Do you like working there?”

“It’s okay.”

“Hmm…” He hummed as he observed you closely. “That wasn’t very believable.”

“No,” you quickly rebutted, “as far as retail goes, it’s the best place I’ve worked. It’s just… Well, retail.”

You smiled sheepishly, he chuckled again. You nearly didn’t catch yourself leaning forward to follow the warmth of the sound.

“Well, let me know if you’re ever looking for something else.”

A laugh bubbled up into your throat, caught behind a swift hand moving to your lips. Your hand left to take your wine glass as you tilted your head.

“Why? Do you have a job for me?”

While you meant it as a tease, he swallowed hard, trying to force away the filthy images invading his mind. He shifted in his chair, leaning forward onto his arms folded across the table, doing his best to ignore the stirring in his slacks.

“You could say that,” he murmured; and then it was like a lightbulb went off in his head. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, an eyebrow lifting, before adding, “Or I could just take care of you.”

Shock filled your face, your eyes opening wide and breath hitching in your throat. Daniel laughed, full bodied, perfect teeth shining in the flickering candle light.

“I’m kidding… kind of.”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore how your ears burned, using your wine as an excuse to prolong the timing of your response. You watched him over the rim of your glass, trying to somehow mentally dissect him.

“So,” you began, sitting your glass back to the table, “tell me more. Do you enjoy your work?”

You were prying; there was just something that made you feel like he was hiding something. Not that he was lying, just that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“It’s okay,” he replied with a smirk.

“Using my own words against me? That’s rude.”

He chuckled, leaning backing in his chair, a finger fidgeting the fork in front of him. “I’m just always talking about work. I’ll tell you anything else.”

“Okay then,” you agreed, folding your arms on the table and leaning forward, filing away his lack of response for later. “Tell me something then. Do you have family nearby?”

“Not really, no. I have two sisters, but they live a few hundred miles away. My parents are in Greece.”

“Greece?” Your eyebrows raised.

He nodded, explaining that they moved overseas after retirement, leaving him a single corner store he turned into multiple. You would be lying you if you said you weren’t impressed. The hard work it would take, the dedication he must have. While he openly talked about his sisters, bragged about his parents, yet every time you tried to dig into more about his businesses, the conversation would shift.

Eventually, you were talking about your family, him asking the questions. As you fell into a spill about your home life, the server delivered the food, setting down the most beautiful looking plate of food you had ever seen. Not a single drop of pink on the rim of the edge of a white bowl, mushrooms soaking a creamy red sauce pooling around a steaming chicken breast resting perfectly centered.

After checking, the server refilled your wine glasses before disappearing once more. Daniel watched as you ritualistically sent a text message, then wasted no more time to saw into your food with a fork and knife. As you took your first bite, you realized this was, in fact, an experience.

You both fell quiet as you enjoyed the bold flavors of your dish. Daniel offered you a bite of his, which was even better than what you had. Perfectly cooked lamb that was so tender, it nearly melted like butter on your tongue. You hummed your approval, to which he was already cutting off another piece for you. Though you said no, a small pile of perfectly bite sized pieces piled on the edge of his plate.

The candle flickered between you, silence only broken by random scrapes of a fork or clink of glass—yet it was comfortable. Though he remained quiet, he smiled every time your hand snuck across the table to grab another taste off his plate.

After a while, your fork and knife rested on your nearly empty plate, your stomach full and taste buds still dancing.

“So,” he said smugly, sitting his silverware on a clean plate, already knowing the answer. “What’s the verdict? Did I open your eyes to the world of fine dining?”

“Ha-ha,” it came out flat, even as you stifled the smile threatening to break out. “It was better than I expected, I’ll give you that.”

“I think you might have enjoyed it more than you’re letting on.”

“Hey,” you playfully snipped, narrowing your eyes as the corners of your mouth lifted, “I said it was better than I expected. But I can’t tell you if I enjoyed it until I see the bill.”

Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why would you do that?”

You returned his confusion. “Daniel, this place is ridiculously expensive. No prices on the menu was a dead giveaway. And if you think I’m the kind of woman who doesn’t carry her own, who only—”

“I know you do,” he interrupted with a small nod. “But I asked you out, Y/N. You aren’t paying.”

“You paid last time. It’s only right.”

“I said no, shortcake. Besides, I do need to make it up to you for lying, right?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly. He leaned forward, a large hand reaching across the table to gently take yours.

“Please, don’t argue,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand a tenderness that made your heart flutter. His blue eyes continuing to beg, even while his mouth remained closed.

“Okay,” you muttered, fingers curling around his hand. “But let’s do something that won’t require the selling of a kidney next time.”

His thumb stilled, a wide grin slowly overtaking his face. “‘Next time’?”

You hadn’t realized you said it, but now you were looking across the table as Daniel was looking at you like a dog that just heard their favorite word. Your smile grew as you watched his proverbial tail wag eagerly.

“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still on thin ice.”

He leaned forward on an elbow, wiggling his eyebrows. “Good thing I know how to skate.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, trying to bite back the laugh that strained your throat. “You’re an idiot.”

“Probably, but you laughed.”

You pulled your hand out from under his, playfully slapping his forearm, trying not to let yourself giggle like a little girl. “Shut up!”

His other hand came up, capturing yours, pressing your palm firmly against his forearm. Your smile fell, eyes dropping to your hand sandwiched between his warm skin and soft sleeve. Butterflies flapped wildly in your stomach, throat suddenly bone dry.

“You say that a lot, don’t you?”

“What?” Your eyes jerked back to his while your cheeks stained pink. “Wha-No? No! Shut—”

You cut off your words and Daniel laughed, his fingers lacing between yours, dwarfing your hand completely under his. The heat from his palm soaked into the back of your hand, sending a fresh wave of pink up your neck to color your face deeper. While your eyes were focused on him, the server reappeared.

“Miss,” the small man bowed towards you before turning back to Daniel. “Mr. Sideris. I trust everything was to your standards?”

“It was,” he replied, never looking away. His hand tightened subtly, not wanting to lose the contact between you.

“Marvalous. May I interest you in dessert?”

“What do you think, cupcake?” Daniel’s voice dropped to a teasing mutter, “Want something a slice of cake or am I sweet enough?”

“Cheesy,” you scoffed, though it held no true bite. “But no, I’m stuffed.”

He agreed, removing his fingers from between yours, but pushing your palm into his sleeve in a silent request. He reached into his jacket, shuffling around for a moment; and in his concentration, his gaze dropped to your lips. As he traced the outline of the color on your lips, he forgot what he was doing.

He blinked, his card emerged, landing in the hand of the server. That was the transaction, you never even had the chance to see the bill.

His hand came back to yours that never moved. He gushed about how wonderful of a time he had, tossing in sweet compliments about your dress. You couldn’t lie, you had a great time, minus the terrifying start… And seeing him take that same tone with the first server.

After his card was returned, he decided to live up to the title of idiot: “I hope we can do this again soon. Can I give you a ride?”

“Daniel…”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Your hand pulled out from under his, grabbing your phone.

“Will I hear from you again?”

It caught you off guard, your thumbs freezing on your screen for a split-second before ordering your ride home. Another text, then your phone was resting on the table in front of you. Daniels arm was still reached across the table, silently begging for the contact that was taken from him too soon.

“Yeah,” you said softly, the corners of your lips forced downward as you tried not to grin stupidly. “Of course you will.”

He beamed, eyes almost crinkling shut as the grin overtook his face. “Great! That’s great!”

Then he was surging to his feet, shuffling around the table excitedly. One hand coming to the back of your chair in preparation to pull it out, the other palm up in offering. This time, you took his hand, letting him help you up.

He wrapped your hand around his arm, smiling down at you, walking you away from the evidence of the most delicious meal you had ever had in your life. The only time he released you was to hold the door and let you walk through first. By the time you had made it outside, a familiar ping rang out from your purse.

You glanced up, seeing the black Toyota matching the description from the app waiting for you. Repeating the same actions as your first date, Daniel lead you to the car when you pointed it out, making the man driving give him your name before releasing you. He tugged the door open, stepping out of your way.

“Let me know when you make it?”

You looked down at the back seat, then back at Daniel. Ignoring the tightness in your chest, the nerves threatened make your hands shake, you stepped forward. Pushing up onto your toes, a hand coming to his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn’t move, aside from leaning down enough for your lips to connect with his cheek.

“I had a nice time,” you said as you looked up at his red face, knowing your own was burning just as bright. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes fixed on your lips as he fought to keep himself from kissing you. From pressing his palms against the plumpness of your cheeks and taste the wine that stained your lips.

You said your goodbyes before you slid into the back seat, him giving you one last once-over before closing the door. You waved through the window as he took a couple of steps back, jamming his hand in his pockets with a large smile, waving back with the other. Then the car was moving, pulling out from the covered entrance way to begin your trip home.

“This is the first time I’ve ever picked anyone up from here,” the driver remarked, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Looks real nice.”

“It is,” you said with a smile, pulling your phone out to let Amanda know you’re on your way back. You turned to the window, looking out at the glow of the streetlights passing by. “It’s incredible, really.”

Though you still had questions, you had a bit of a better understanding of Daniel. You learned about his family… Kind of. Two sisters and he hinted that his parents were originally from Greece. He also managed slipped in a not-so-subtle brag about bench pressing 500 pounds while talking about helping his parents move.

As your mind retraced the conversations, you thought perhaps the way he was on the phone had something to do with one of his businesses. He seemed nonchalant, but it would have to be stressful to be the backbone for five businesses. That had to be it.

As far as the first server went, he deserved to be scolded, and you wouldn’t be completely truthful if you said it wasn’t nice that he was so willing to stand up for you. Still, the way the server reacted was interesting. The staff seemed to know his name, so maybe he had some kind of pull there, being a businessman and all. That made sense, right?

Though it started rough, it ended with you feeling as if you were floating. Daniel couldn’t be a bad guy, not when he looked at you with hearts beating in his eyes or held your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Besides, you had his full name now, and you knew Amanda would be doing a deep dive once she had it.

Between the two of you: you would find out exactly who Daniel Sideris was.

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