1 - 20 of 79 Works by Chefthefish
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Leviticus 18:22 echoed in her mind, unbidden. Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind: it is abomination.
But Rumi did not lie with mankind at all. She lay awake, her body a betrayer, aching from the softness of curves, the whisper of feminine laughter. Abomination. That’s what she was. A vile creature from hell, spawned in sin and destined for the lake of fire.
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She hated this week. Hated it with every fiber of her body.
Rumi and Mira had been sniping at each other nonstop. Rumi slamming cabinets in the kitchen because Mira left her coffee mug in the sink again. Mira muttering under her breath when Rumi hogged the TV remote. The two of them trading barbed comments over dinner until Zoey wanted to crawl under the table and disappear.
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Zoey thought it her girls were fighting, but really it was just foreplay
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Mira always wanted to kill herself. It was a thing she wanted when she was just ten years old, but she wanted it.
Her mother was never happy with her, her grades, her friends, her manner of speaking. Her hair. Her. She was nothing like her perfect brother.
So Mira wanted to die as simple as that.
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They stayed quiet for a long time. Long enough for the movie’s paused soundtrack to fade into the background. Long enough for Zoey’s breathing to slow.
Then she mumbled into Rumi’s hoodie, “Today was awful.”
“We figured,” Mira said softly, squeezing her hand.
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The solo fan meet was a flop, so the girls comfort Zoey
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“Rumi, come on, I need to finish this,” Mira said, turning toward the switch.
Rumi caught her arm gently, pulling her close. “You’ve been at it for hours. You need a break. Let me help you relax.”
Mira hesitated, glancing at the darkened stereo. “Just five more minutes. You guys are counting on me.”
Rumi’s hands slid to Mira’s waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles. “Five minutes won’t fix it if you collapse. Say yes, and I’ll make it worth it.”
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Mira keeps overworking herself too much much, and the girls decide to distract her.
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She’d read them maybe forty times already that morning (no, fifty), folding and unfolding until the paper felt like damp tissue, soft and fragile and completely unable to hold the weight of what was written on it.
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Her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. Every swallow feels like dragging sandpaper across raw skin. She has been awake for forty-three minutes. She counted.
Forty-three minutes of pretending she isn’t dying of thirst.
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Cuddle party but Rumi is too insecure to leave to get water
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Just them trick or treating then egging a house 💕
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She wanted to say she was fine. That she’d fix it. That it wasn’t her fault.
But her throat wouldn’t work. The air caught and shuddered out in wet gasps.
Her body was starting to shake. It wasn’t the pain that hadn’t fully reached her yet. It was the confusion. The way the world tilted every time she blinked. The way her body didn’t seem to belong to her anymore.
She turned her head. Slowly.
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Mira huffs but doesn’t argue. Instead she presses herself closer, feeling the warmth of both of them at once. Their breathing evens out. The TV flickers low light across their faces.
Puppy love is hard to ignore
When every little thing you do, I do adore…Or
A “I Do Adore” song fic cause omg that song is so gosh darn good
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When you don’t age, days blur together. You forget birthdays, seasons, years. She used to joke about it with Zoey and Mira — that she’d always look twenty, that she’d never have to worry about wrinkles or gray hairs. Zoey laughed and called her lucky. Mira teased her about it, tugging on her cheek and saying, “You better not start thinking you’re better than us, immortal girl.”
Back then, it was a joke. Something light. Something harmless.
It only stopped being funny when Zoey’s hands began to shake.
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Rumi wakes to warmth pressed against every side.
The couch is too small for three people, but that’s never stopped them. Zoey’s legs are draped over her waist, Mira’s arm hooked tight around her middle, the blanket barely hanging on at the edges.
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Another cuddle party with the gang
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Zoey couldn’t breathe.
The sound of Rumi’s voice, that single word drawn out and broken, still carved through her chest like it was happening all over again. She heard it when she tried to sleep, she heard it during rehearsals, she heard it when Rumi smiled at her like nothing had shattered between them. It was never gone.
“Zoey, please.”
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Zoey smiled too easily. Too quickly. It was a habit she had perfected until no one questioned it anymore. A tiny tug of her lips, a light in her eyes, and that was enough to reassure the people around her that she was fine. She always was fine. That’s what she told them, what she told herself, what she thought she needed to be.
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Zoey being a people pleaser
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Cute? Sure. Small? Fine. But every other day? Please. Who did they think they were, just because they had the height, the muscles, the whole “effortlessly perfect” thing going on. Zoey wasn’t about to admit how Mira somehow made standing still look good, or how Rumi’s arms flexed whenever she reached for something. Nope. Not thinking about it.
Still, it got under her skin. They laughed, and Zoey laughed too, but in the back of her mind she kept a little score.
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The dorm was too quiet for a group that was supposed to be working. Quiet in a way that pressed on the ears, thick and heavy, like the air before rain. Mira padded down the hall with her arms folded loosely across her chest, socked feet making no sound on the floor. She tilted her head as she walked, waiting for the familiar signs—pen scratches, the faint hum of a melody, Zoey’s chatter filling the spaces between. But there was nothing. Just the low creak of the building and the faint rush of wind against the glass.
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Mira snatching her girlfriends away from work
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The name lit up on the screen and her chest tightened before her mind could catch up. Mira. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, stared again. Mira. Her thumb hesitated, the muscles in her hand locked between instinct and fear. They hadn’t spoken in months. Years, if she counted the silences in between the scattered messages.
She opened it. A single line. "Come to my wedding". Then a cascade of typos, drunken spelling, a half-coherent heart emoji that somehow cut deeper than anything else.
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“Your freckles,” Mira said quietly, her voice roughened by honesty, “they’re the gateway to the galaxy. The stars above me, scattered and shining, but your eyes—” she paused, brushing her thumb gently across Zoey’s cheekbone,
“your eyes shine brighter than all of them.”
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Just Zoey and Mira slow dancing while Mira is being a lover girly
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She didn’t mind being the sober one—it wasn’t like she could drink anyway without her stomach staging a rebellion—but wow, they were *loud*.
“Our baaaaabyyyyy,” Mira cooed suddenly, her words slurring together in a drawn-out sing-song as her hand came up to cup Zoey’s cheek.
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Zoey dealing with her drunk girlfriends -
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Her voice cracks, shatters into silence for a heartbeat, then returns, softer, almost sweet. “It won’t be a stylish marriage…” she sings, voice bubbling through tears. The words blur into a scream, ragged and unending, her body convulsing in the spreading mess beneath her. The sound echoes against the empty walls, alone, until it finally breaks down into a hoarse whimper, rocking and muttering, her voice too cracked to tell if she’s still praying or cursing.