Thinking about plus sized homeowner again. (Honestly when am I not thinking about that?)
I like to think regardless of if you have a love or friend ending with them, some of the dateables can and will pick/lift you up at least once if/when you might be feeling down (especially if you are feeling bad about your size, or the datable thinks that’s what has you feeling down). Though some would definitely also do it just because. (And yes, some of these are gonna be self indulgent.) As per usual, some of these have more thought/detail put into them and some are more simple (because my brain is dumb like that).
Like normal, this is just the ones that I immediately had thoughts for plus some who I got ideas for while writing.
- Dasha is a bit of an obvious one, especially since there is literally a canon interaction for her to lift up the homeowner. No other thoughts, just figured for a post like this I should mention her.
- The Hanks for sure. Specifically each one individually goes out of their way to pick you up. I’m almost picturing them taking turns picking you up one by one, ending it with all 5 of them holding you up at once (though that last part is more because they all get caught up in the moment and are just having fun with the whole thing by that point). Lots of laughter involved. Each Hank probably picks/holds you up in a different way. I was gonna list how I think each one would lift you up, but then I realized that I don’t know that many ways to pick someone up (or if I can picture it I don’t know the name), and I couldn’t think of specific ones for all of them. For the ones I do know the names of/can describe easily: H1nk will have you in a fireman carry/hold, H2nk has you on his back piggyback style, and H4nk will have you lifted over his head in some way. I can’t decide for H3nk and H5nk (though I do know at least one of them would go for picking you up bridal/princess style).
- Probably most (if not all) of the gym crew (and by gym crew I specifically mean the ones that are only in there). Kristof either holds you over his head (kinda like H4nk) or he throws you over his shoulder. Dunk will wrap his arms around your waist/hips and just lift you up off the ground, holding you so your tummy/hips are almost flush against his chest. (I hope that description makes sense. I have the pose clear in my mind but I couldn’t find any examples when I tried to look them up.) For Stepford I can’t imagine anything besides him simply just scooping you up into his arms. Fantina is the only one I’m not sure about. She’d try for sure, likely trying to pick you up while hugging you, so A for effort on her part.
- Definitely Shelley. She’d pull you into a bear hug before lifting you up.
- Eddie and Volt would, this is a hill I will die on. (I may or may not have thought about this in depth before…) Eddie would only do so when there is no one else around (Volt being the only exception). He’s either picking you up bridal/princess style or he’s hauling you over his shoulder. Volt on the other hand wouldn’t care if there are others around, he’s picking you up regardless. Like Eddie, he may default to bridal/princess style (and throwing you over his shoulder, but with him that one is saved for more private moments (aka the only one that is somewhat explicitly romance only)), though he also likes to be sneaky about it by inviting you to dance then once his hands are on your waist he’ll lift you up with a small spin.
- Parker is another one that strikes me as the type to pull you into a bear hug before lifting you up.
- No specific thoughts with this one, but Freddy for sure.
- Skylar would, and it would start and end with her giving you a big hug. She is def stronger than she looks.
- Skips specifically goes out of his way to pick you up in its smaller more human form, almost like he’s trying to prove a point. Definitely scoops you into its arms bridal style, often wordlessly with no other form of prior warning for what it is about to do.
- Timothy is another case of being stronger than he looks, applies to Timmy as well (obviously).
- Bodhi, no specific thoughts just vibes. Probably spins around with you in his arms.
- Dorian, don’t doubt how sturdy the door is. Hug and lift, and only in private.
And that's all I have the patience to come up with. Been working on this for so long and I just want to share it already. Feel free to share your thoughts, I'd love to read them!
◊ Summary: Your difficult Targaryen husband can be so shockingly docile under your touch.
◊ CWs: Some VERY mild body insecurity, Aerion, sexual themes (18+; MDNI), and mentions of corporeal punishment.
◊ Content: Domestic fluff, talk of pregnancy, smut, piv sex, possessive behavior, yearning, plus-size!reader, fempov, reader's general appearance is undefined, reader's house is undefined
◊ Pairings: Plus-size!Wife!Reader x Maekar, Aerion, and Daeron (separate scenarios)
◊ Word Count: 1.5k (~500 per part)
◊ AN: This was inspired by the incessant idea that Maekar and his two eldest Maekarlings would prefer a chubby/curvy/fat partner. So, uh, yeah. Enjoy.
Maekar Targaryen
Maekar was not a soft man by any means.
He had not even been a gentle child. According to his mother, he had been quite the fitful babe, tossing and turning in her arms with fussy cries that failed to cease. His tantrums were frequent, and his attitude was sour.
Maekar would hound his brothers. He'd demand, with an entitlement unworthy of someone so little, that they play with him. Eat with him. Do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted to do it. The occasional reprimand of his kin—Aerys once smacking him in the mouth—was enough to quell his insistence for a day or two before he began again.
It was a cycle he eventually grew out of as a young man. The spoiled rottenness of a boy becoming harsh and cold, hardening like molten steel left to cool. His nature had manifested outwardly in his appearance: sturdy frame, powerful limbs, and a mean face.
You are the opposite of him; you are soft.
Fat widens the curve of your hips and the width of your waist, and your breasts are heavy. Carrying six children has lined your stomach with silvery patterns that crawl up your abdomen, pudge rolling beneath your bodices when you sit.
You, most days, are Maekar's only respite.
There is no solace like the heat of your skin. Ever since your wedding night, when he deflowered you beneath the glow of warm torchlight, he had been enamored with the give of your flesh. The indents of his fingers when he grasped your legs, pawed at your stomach.
Even years later, Maekar craves you just as he did before the Battle of the Redgrass Field. Before Ashford, and the fucking mess your sons made.
You make the restlessness that coils in his veins slow, giving way to peace. To rest his head upon your chest is to know true quiet. To sink into your wet heat, womanhood embracing his slick cock, is to find relief from duty and stress.
He is wholly taken by your body. It has protected his issues, brought them to life—how could he be obsessed?
Maekar beds you most nights. He grasps and pulls at the meat of your figure as he fucks you, manhandling you as he sees fit just to see a blush blossom across your face. You sing so sweetly for him when he lies atop your body and thrusts hard into your cunt, lips sipping your kisses from your own as you offer praises, pleas.
Sometimes, he picks you up like a maiden green just to hear you laugh before throwing you down onto the bed.
"Don't you tire of me?" You ask. Maekar doesn't deign to grace such a ridiculous question with a response, granting you a deadpan stare.
Maekar will always be bitter. The anger that simmers in his bones will only dissipate when he is burned on a pyre, ash collecting beneath withered wood.
But with you, he can at least be still.
Aerion Brightflame
If there is one thing Aerion detests, it is weakness.
Simpering, sniveling lords shaking like leaves beneath harsh winds when in his father's presence irk him; servants who meekly comply to his demands nurtures disgust in his stomach. The entire concept of frailness is enough to raise his hackles.
Aerion isn't only a prince to be fawned upon. He is a dragon, through and through. He needed someone worthy to be by his side, who could withstand his virility and strength, and a faint-hearted wisp of a woman wasn't deserving of his attentions.
That is why he accepted you as his bride.
It had been a long, tedious process. The search for a suitable wife had not been by Aerion's design, and thus, Maekar led the charge. He had begun with the most prominent houses across the realm.
However, the canidates were slender things who shrunk and shook under his gaze as though he were a disgusting beast. They did not see the honor of being wed to him. The glory of carrying his seed, bearing pale-haired spawn to continue the dynasty, was a foreign concept that they seemed reluctant to entertain.
Many ladies were hesistant to comply, and Aerion's disdain for the hunt only grew. Maekar seemed silently eager to settle Aerion down. Perhaps so he may have some certain purpose with a wife to entertain, and eventually, children to look after.
You were from a lesser house. Not the eldest daughter, nor the most notable of young women, but your father had readily agreed to send you off the moment a raven from Summerhall had arrived with the proposition.
You were not thin. You were soft and thick from toe to crown, with malleable fat that coated your hips and stomach. Your cheeks were rounded; they darkened beautifully when he leaned close to you.
For someone so beneath him, Aerion is quite fond of you. He likes the give of your flesh. The width of your hips and the durability of your body promises him strong heirs. He knows it, can dream it almost like that fool called his brother, and he tells it to you frequently beneath silken sheets.
He shuns the concept of the two of you being seperated. Your apartments are his apartments, and his chambers are yours. Why would he not want pleasure from you, cunt or mouth?
Aerion takes advantage of the lack of privacy by admiring your nude form whenever you undress. He intrudes on your handmaidens' tasks, dismissing them briskly so that he may corner you, squeezing and biting that brought satisfaction to the primal need within him.
In any moments of insecurity, he scoffs at the idiocy of it.
"You resemble Queen Rhaenyra, don't you know?" Aerion likes to pinch at your neck to physically remove you from such a line of thought, smile melted steel, "Besides, you have the strength others in court lack. Our babe will be most grateful."
Daeron the Drunken
Ever since he was a babe, Daeron has craved comfort.
It hadn't always been because of his dreams—nasty figments of his imagination that some had the ignorance to view as a blessing. His mother used to recall that he had been fragile as a baby, desperate to be coddled by her or his sire.
Lady Dyanna would pet at his tresses as she teased him, reminiscent and loving. That was before she had died. After that, affection was a scarce resource.
His father was not a doting, let alone an amicable, creature. He whipped and beat Daeron more than he held him. Aerion had more on his mind than indulging his brother. Aemon was away at the Citadel, and little Egg was playing squire for that lumbering giant of a knight.
Sweet Rhae and Daella could take pity on him. They'd offer him fondness, but they were only girls, taken with their septas' lessons or their own youthful fancies.
No scraps of touch could fill the gaping void within him. It was a ravenous pit that nearly unsettled him as much as the prophecies that graced his restless sleep. Daeron tried. He tried; the Gods know he did. He drank himself sick, fucked dozens of whores, and chased after anything that might bring forth joy.
Alas, none of it worked. There was still that hole within him. It is a permanent fixture haunting his every waking moment. However, you are a soothing balm to his weeping wound.
Your presence doesn't rid him of that pain. Sinking into the suppleness of your bosom and arms, at least, provides a gentle relief. It's comparable to a cool breeze washing over heated skin.
He's able to sink his nose, his jaw into the pliable curves and planes of your frame in an effort to hide. The scent of you is better than any wine. The way he can sink into you, wrap his arms around your width, is a solace previously unknown.
Making love to you is an enjoyable affair. It satiates his appetite, grounding him into terrible reality as you ride his cock as though he were a dragon true.
He had not wanted a wife. Dreaded it truthfully, but his father hadn't heeded his concerns. He wants to thank his sire now for his efforts in obtaining you as his bride, for there is no music like the moans he drags from your lungs, nor a sensation like your arousal coating over his fingers.
He may be your husband, but you are his protection. When his dreams come to blanket his unconscious form, Daeron can crawl into your embrace like a wounded dog licking his wounds.
"Please," he begs frequently, half-asleep and half-hysterical in the darkness of night, "Help me."
Drowsily, you comb his hair with your fingers. You kiss his sweaty brow. You and your cushiony flesh soak him in as he grips hard at meat and muscle.
It makes living less and less of a torment.
◊ AN: mmmm... sweet treats and thinking about omega!dunk.... oh, and uh, 4th of july. yeah. happy 4th!
tropes/warnings- childhood friends to lovers, he fell first and harder, Angst, fluff, happy ending, 18+ content
The first time you met Bruce was at a charity gala when you were only three years old. You stayed close to your parents, hiding behind them as you watched the crowd of unfamiliar faces around you.
It was Martha Wayne who noticed you first and smiled at you with a warmth that made so many people adore her. She was the one who introduced the two of you gently coaxing you away from your parents and leading you toward her son, Bruce Wayne who was only 5 years old at the time
Yet, even then there was something strangely intriguing about him. He stood in a perfectly tailored suit, far too serious for a child his age. At first he was cautious of you but by the end of the night he smiled so brightly at your every word he was just a quite boy with a careful smile.
Now you stand in-front a man twice your size, in a suit quite similar, just as poised and regal as before. But his eyes were full of years of rage, anger and loss. His smiles not coming so easily anymore. This time you stand infront of your husband as you say your vows at the alter.
——
an- this kinda a prologue for a long series I have planned please let me know if you want more.
imagine: going on a date with Bob but he's kinda boring... 18+
characters: Bob Reynolds x bpd!plus size!fem!reader
note: soooo this was a writing exercise in healing through words by rupi kaur, book I have, it basically had prompts that I had to insert into the story of a first date.. but I fell in love with the idea so I'm rewriting here! Not edited! and one day I will figure out a format I like...and normie is always gonna be a corgi for me sns
WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI - dating apps, trauma dumping, mentions of bob's past, drug abuse, abusive parents, his mental health, mental health medication, mentions of body issues, reader has bpd! non canon, no super heroes here....bob is like mid twenties here!
God this man was boring.
Bob's been so quiet, but so incredibly hot, she wanted this to go well. It was more than that though, they've been talking for over a month. She's never be closer with someone, in some ways.
Bob talked about the hobbies he has, he loves to tinker, collect parts, going to thrift stores to have old stereos and parts to reuse. They've been spoken about going there together because she loved to thrift. He loved legos, he could build things for hours, he loved reading and would share what he was currently catching up on.
He had an adorable dog named Normie, a corgi with light brown and white fur. They had traded snaps, sending pictures back and forth during the day. When he got home most of his pictures were of his dog because he didn't particularly like taking pictures of himself.
Bob is beyond sweet, so maybe truly, it wasn't a him problem. It was probably her, her attention span or her anxiety flaring at the slightest abnormability of everything not clicking right away.
It's weird because it did click! Through text, face time, but now....
She was nervous, he was nervous, she couldn't really blame him for not talking when she didn't know what to say either. Those blue eyes alone could probably bring her to her knees, but she needed more, she didn't do one night stands, and certainly didn't want that with Bob.
They were at the local Mexican restaurant that she had been going to since she was a kid. She had been nervous about meeting up so he drove about fifteen minutes to her hometown.
She got her classic chicken and rice with flour tortilla's, an upgrade from when she was a kid when she would ask for corn dogs or shrimp and rice and only picking off the shrimp. It was growth, her palate expanding through the years, and Bob had gotten the same.
She wore tight black leggings, her oversized red flannel, not super flattering as it went over her butt and hid most of her body. But she had a couple buttons at the top loose, which she noticed the fleeting glances from Bob, that made the tips of his ears pink.
There were always nerves when it came to dating, a lot of the times she never actually met the person she was talking to because she was nervous they wouldn't find her attractive in person.
She's always been a bigger girl, she worried that this was what this was about. That yeah maybe she had big boobs, maybe he didn't expect much of this.
She broke the silence as they finish eating, feeling awkward, "Bob, uh, is everything good? You aren't...say much...if you regret this, I understand, I know I'm not..."
"What?" Bob questions, confused, "I'm sorry, I just don't want to say the wrong thing," he trails, glancing down at his plate, quietly tapping his fingers against the table. He stutters through the rest, "I really like you, and sometimes I just...trauma dump too early, we talked about so much over text but there were things I didn't tell you. Things that might make you change your mind about me." He grew red all along his chest, cheeks, and ears, giving her a wobbly fake smile.
She goes soft, her anxiety dimming, shoulders relaxing as she stretches her arm across the table to slowly calm the tapping that grew faster, soothing his fingers.
Bob looks at her with starry eyes, "You can always open up to me," she promised, giving him a real, reassuring smile, hopefully conveying that she can be trusted, "I'm not going to judge you, I mean I came from crazy, I have my own things," she shrugs, "We are all in some ways, some people are judged for it, others get away with it...I'm not here to do either, I just know it can be intense. God sorry, I'm not your therapist, I've just done a lot of therapy..."
He dips his chin, cracking a bashful grin, making her feel all tingly inside.
Bob glances around, making his voice smaller, "I um, won't go into too much detail here, but um my dad was really abusive growing, along with just drinking all the time...Then uh we got into a car accident, almost killed me and it did him...My mom wasn't with us. I um got addicted to morphine and just everything fell apart after that. I dropped out of school, got kicked out of the house. I um I was a drug addict from twelve to twenty two... got arrested a few times, and then I had a really bad manic episode that landed me in the mental hospital. I was mandated to check in with my probation officer, go to support group, attend therapy. I didn't have insurance or anything but it was court mandated...I'm surprised I just didn't get thrown into jail but they diagnosed me with Bipolar and I've been completely sober for three years. I uh got help when I was twenty one but...I still struggle off and on, nothing big or major, but I almost got everything taken away when the drugs induced a manic episode-jesus, I said I wouldn't say a lot but I said a lot."
He cringes at himself at the info dump, but she doesn't remove her soothing hand, a glint her eyes as pets at his fingers. "It's amazing that you're sober, my parents were alcoholics...I...It's not the same but it can be really hard to not give into it because it's all we knew..."
Bob nods his head slowly, a thickness in his throat from the fact that she did understand him, "I uh, I'm on some prescription medication that they track pretty closely. I got off probation last year, early...I still go to group, and regular therapy...But my meds have really helped."
"I um...have you ever heard of borderline personality disorder?"
"I have, loosely..."
"Well I got diagnosed when I was nineteen, along with PTSD and autism..." her eyes widen, "I'm not saying that to be like I have it worse at all, but, I'm overthinking and it isn't the same but they're both intense...Things can flip on a dime for me, one moment I'm fine, the next I snapped, or I'm annoyed, or crying, or laughing so hard I can't breath. It's...confusing to a lot of people when they see it."
"I understand," Bob hums, his thumb had moved to the crevice of her own and her pointer finger, soothing. "I know why I didn't say anything but why didn't you?"
She glances down, sighing, "I mean, I know it's a personality disorder but I use to kinda open with that, warn people, attract the weirdoes or abusive people...or people who instantly thought I had to be abusive or obsessed with them...Because a lot of people don't understand it. So along the same lines but I just...didn't want you to only see that because I'm trying really hard not to only see that."
"God, I wanna kiss you right now." Bob utters, passion lacing his voice.
She giggles, both of their cheeks hot, her teeth skims her bottom lip. "Well you gotta wait." she teases while slipping her digits between his. "They make really good fried ice cream here, do you wanna try it?"
"Sure." he nods, a giddy smile on his face as he glances down for a second, when he meets her eyes once more, he's flushed red.
"I really like you too, by the way...." she smiles.
note: ahhh, lmk if you guys like the short not edited stuff, I have other ones I have written as more of practice but don't know if I wanna post...
He comes over a little earlier than expected, anxiously messing with his ears as he watches you set up. He tried not stare at the bunny ears you bought, and the half lace outfit that matched his ears. His face was red, unable to look you in the eyes until the camera started and he could finally touch you.
He starts kissing you, his hand tangling in your hair as he nudges you on the bed gently. His face is still a deep crimson, especially when he pulls the lingerie up. He keeps it on you as he starts sucking on your nipples, his other hand giving your other one the same stimulation. He whimpers when you moan and pet his ears, his hips humping into the bed impulsively. He presses little kisses to your chest and stomach as he makes his way to your core.
He looks up with needy eyes as he eats you out. Starting sweet and soft, until you started moaning louder, and your hips started pushing into him. He suddenly grabs your thighs, he pulls your legs apart and presses two of his fingers inside of you, his tongue making fast circles on your clit. He makes quick work of your orgasm, licking up every drop you give him.
He feels your hand grab his hair and pull him up, making him whimper in excitement. You push him on his back and pull his pants down quickly. You barely give him time to process as you straddle his hips and press his cock inside of you. You ride him relentlessly, his moans coming out in strings of “please” and “oh fuck.”
“I’m cumming…please-please let me cum inside you..oh please I- fuck..”
You ride him harder for his pleas, his eyes roll back as he cums, his cock spasms inside of you. He grabs your shoulders and presses your chest against his, pressing himself somehow even deeper inside of you. He snuggles into you closer, kissing your neck gently. The stream plays in the background, the comments flooding about how cute your companion is. You have a feeling this won’t be the last round…he starts to get hard again only seconds after, but he is a bunny after all…
A/N so this was supposed to be a short thought and ended up longer than I'd planned, whoops.
TW: heavy body image issues, quick skin picking mention
x fem!reader
"You don't understand!"
"Sweetheart-"
"No!"
Throughout the apartment you can hear two sets of feet slapping against hardwood in the kitchen. Hers, fast and angry. His, cautious but intentional.
"Did I do something?" He asks. "Because if I did, just tell me what it is so we can talk about it-"
She spins around and stares at him, incredulously. "What? No you didn't do anything!"
He blinks at her.
"Okay," he starts off, trying to wipe the last bit of sleep from his eyes. "Did you not want me to come here after work? Because if you need space that's totally fine, I just need you to let me know that."
He'd gotten off early today, and in a bid to surprise her he had headed on over to her apartment, wanting to be there when she got home from work. Letting himself in (with the spare key she had given him), he had then made a home on her couch where he intended to stay until she arrived, however the exhaustion from the day had caught up with him. He'd passed out.
And he was then awoken by the door swinging open, and his beautiful fiance storming in like a bat out of hell.
"I'm sorry I didn't let you know, but I thought it'd be a nice surprise."
"It was a nice surprise!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air, "It is! I love when you're here! I love being around you!"
Silence settled in the room, the only sounds being her exasperated breathing.
"Then baby, what's wrong?" He asked, gently.
He takes a slow step forward, and then another, like he's approaching a frightened animal. And with the wild look in her eyes, that feels like a fair comparison.
Next thing you know, he's right in front of her, sliding his hands around her waist gently. Her chest is still rising and falling rapidly, but she seems more calm than before. Looks less like she's going to bite someone.
"Just talk to me." He murmurs, pressing a kiss to her temple.
A large exhale. Then he feels her hands twist themselves into his shirt, holding on tight like he would float away otherwise.
"It's just," the mumble comes from pressed into his chest. "It's just stupid, fucking Gina."
"Gina?" He questions, still cradling her. "From work?"
"Yes!" She huffs. "She and freaking Roger-"
"Her boyfriend?"
"Not anymore! They're engaged now!"
He can feel her tensing up in his arms again, and starts to rub her back in small circles.
"Is that a bad thing?" He questions. "Just last month you told me he was gonna pop the question any time."
"No it isn't a bad thing, I'm very happy for them!" She puffs indignantly.
He smiles into the top of her head. He doesn't know how she continues to be so endearing even when clearly quite upset about something.
"Then what's the issue, my love?"
This gets a reaction, but not quite the one he was hoping for. She pulls out of the hug and starts pacing the kitchen again, mumbling and pulling at her hair now.
"It's just that, now that they're engaged Gina won't stop talking to me about all their damn wedding prep." She pauses her footsteps and squeezes her eyes tight, pinching her nose. "And it's like, well duh! Of course she's talking to me about it because we," she gestures between the two of them. "-are also engaged! But we've been engaged for months and in a fucking week it feels like she's already so much more prepared than I am!"
She stomps over to the sink, grabbing a glass from the counter and filling it with water, then downing it all in one go. Then she continues.
"He booked everything for their honeymoon last weekend, the venue she wanted didn't even have a wait list, and get this," she throws her hands in the air again. "-she's already got her dress!"
"Don't you have an appointment to go try on dresses in a few weeks? I'm sure you'll find yours-"
"But it isn't about the dress." She sighs. He can slowly see the fight abandoning her, leaving whatever ugly feeling was truly the cause of all of this. "Her boobs are just perfect."
Silence.
He blinks once. Twice.
"Sweetheart, it doesn't matter to me how nice hers are, I'm quite attached to yours."
This gets a smile out of her. Brief and small, but the first smile he's seen since she got home.
"You don't get it." She murmurs. "Hers are so nice, and they sit pretty by themselves, and she could wear a bra that has no support whatsoever and she's still gonna look like a freaking Barbie. Do you know what she told me about her dress?"
He knows this is rhetorical, so he waits.
"She doesn't have to put on any shape wear. Not a single piece. She doesn't have to tape, or suck in, or squeeze. She just looks that way! I don't even have my dress and I just know I'm gonna look like a stupid walrus if I'm not squished into spandex."
"Now wait a second that's not-"
But the truth is starting to spew out now, she's already started and can't hear him.
"My boobs have never looked like that. They will never look like that. If I took my bra off right now they would damn near kiss my bellybutton, can you imagine if we have kids?" She violently blinking, refusing to make eye contact now.
"And then I started thinking about everything I need to fix before we get married, everything I'm trying to get dealt with before the ceremony so you don't have to see it." She squeezes her eyes tight.
Crickets can be heard for a moment, it's quiet enough you can hear the television from the next apartment over.
"It makes me wonder if we should even do this at all."
"Stop."
Her head snaps up.
His eyes are burning, his chest is tight and his fists are balled. He's enraged, but not at her. Never at her, but at the way she clearly sees herself.
"Don't do this, don't ever say those things about the woman I love ever again."
Tears are now streaming down her face, but there's a ball of indignation rising in her chest as well.
"How can you say that when you don't even know all the gross things about me?"
The kitchen is starting to feel suffocating, so she leaves into the living room. He's right behind her.
"Baby there is nothing you could tell me about yourself that would make me not love you-"
"Oh yeah?" She eyes him. She's too far now, everything that's been kept locked up for the last almost year is forcing itself through the open dam.
"I haven't worn my retainer in a year, and I can actively feel my teeth shifting back to the way they were in middle school. That isn't pretty."
She circles the couch, now keeping him on one side while she stands on the other.
"Not only are my tits saggy, but they're covered in stretch marks. And they get absolutely disgusting when it's hot outside. They get white heads and the worst rash from my bra chafing and that sure as hell isn't appealing."
"My stomach rubs the tops of my thighs and makes ingrowns there that I pick at until they bleed. The insides of my thighs chafe so bad that they look infected, and I can hardly stand to see them myself!"
That boy just stands there, his heart breaking as she lists everything she can think of that should make him not love her.
"I get ingrown hairs in my armpits, that get worse when I shave so I have to let them grow out and I hate it! I have zits on my butt that I am so ashamed of, no matter what I do they will never permanently go away, and my worst nightmare-" she's hysterical now, snot clogging her nose and tears tattooing themselves on her face. "- my worst nightmare is you seeing me on our wedding night and being absolutely revolted by everything I am. Resenting me for all of my flaws, for not being able to fix everything I have tried so hard to keep from you."
She slumps into the couch, hands finding her hair and pulling.
"I'm so scared that we're going to get married and you'll realize that it's a mistake. That you deserve someone better, someone prettier and quieter and more presentable than me." She whimpers. "And then you'll leave."
Her eyes are glued shut, so when she hears footsteps she can only assume that he's leaving. Going to grab his things and head out the door now that she's finally laid out what he would actually be getting into. Everything that he would actually have to deal with as her husband.
She was right, it was too much. She wasn't enough like Gina to make him stay, and now she needs to gather the strength to tell everyone that their engagement has been called off-
Then a warm, calloused hand is gently cradling her chin, lifting her head out of her hands.
"Open your eyes, pretty girl." He whispers from in front of her. "Let me see you."
It takes a moment, but he's patient, and when she finally opens her blurry eyes she can see him, the man she loves more than anything else in the world, on his knees with his eyes full of tears.
"Thank you," he murmurs as he presses a kiss to both of her cheeks. "Thank you for sharing this with me, I know that it wasn't an easy thing to do."
A watery laugh escapes her unintentionally. "That's your response?"
"Not entirely," he gives her a little smile, brushing away the baby hairs that are stuck to her forehead and the sides of her face.
"You are the most precious thing in my whole world, and nothing that you just said will ever be able to change that." He gazes at her lovingly. "Your body being totally normal and human is not something that I will ever hold against you, not something that will ever drive me away."
He takes his thumb and ever so carefully wipes the tears and smudged mascara out from under her eyes.
"You are my beautiful fiance, the woman that I am so blessed to be with. The woman that I cannot wait to marry, to live with. The person that I hope to give my children, the incredible lady that I dream of growing old with." He nuzzles his nose against her own, unbothered by her tears now mixing with his.
"It makes me feel so special to get to be the person that you share these things with. To be a safe place for you to rant and rave and cry and scream and just exist. And my sweet love, you are that for me as well. You hold me when I'm tired, piece me together when I'm broken, and love me when I cannot love myself."
He plants another kiss on her forehead, then stands from where he is knelt on her rug, carefully lowering himself next to her on the couch and pulling her close.
She easily clicks right into his side, right where she belongs, fingers once again tangled in his shirt like he'll disappear if she doesn't hold on.
"I can't wait to marry you." He murmurs, "I'm yours as long as you'll have me."
"I can't wait to marry you," she whispers into his neck, her breathing finally evening out for the first time this afternoon.
"..and I kind of feel bad about everything I said about Gina. She was just collateral because of how I felt."
An unexpected laugh bursts from his throat, and he squeezes her a little bit closer.
"Then tomorrow you can buy her a coffee and apologize, but for tonight let's just stay right here."
