#for those who are interested or have ordered... thank you from the bottom of my heart!!

[vidavalor]

I know I’m jumping the gun here but I need to know (also due to hints you kept dropping regarding Az and Metatron in the final fifteen) what do DO think will happen in s3? (And pls everyone who reads/reblogs: DO NOT TAG NEIL otherwise he legally can’t use the mentioned ideas any more) oh and I would like to share some of my home made eclairs with you (I filled them with German vanilla and chocolate pudding)

Eclairs are my weakness. Thank you @procrastiel. 💕I'm more comfortable analyzing what's already established than I am at predictive thinking, especially because this is literally brilliant stuff and I wouldn't presume I could call it. That's why any S3 speculative stuff I've posted is mostly linked to already-existing flashbacks in some way.

I do think there is a less than zero chance of it not having a happy ending and I think the South Downs cottage is a thing as I can see some groundwork for that already (not just the picture of a cottage on Aziraphale's desk but in the writing). This is one of those shows where you can know the ultimate ending and still have surprises because of it being told out of chronological order and everything recontextualizing everything else so I wouldn't be surprised to learn we do already know the ending.

As for how we're getting there, I think there's some interesting hints in this overlooked af scene-- this bit, in particular:

Aziraphale is actually performing that trick correctly. He's just too busy flirting with Crowley to realize that he's massively overshot the ring-- that he's gone too far-- and has, in the process, destroyed a house of cards. Seems kinda foreshadowing for just how much damage Aziraphale is about to do to a certain fascist regime... also maybe worth noting that the ring slides across the table and topples the house of cards from the bottom-- not from the top. Hmm...

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow

[fayes-fics]

Doctor’s Orders

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, modern AU

Summary: Someone decides to play doctor to ameliorate your bad day…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, doctor/patient roleplay, dom/sub tones, ‘medical examination’ with use of stethoscope and latex gloves, voluntary breathplay, cardiophilia, vaginal fingering, edging.

Word Count: 4.5 k

Authors Note: this is a long-awaited (9 months!) request fill for the lovely @eleanor-bradstreet. My dear, I hope this is somewhat worth the wait. To anyone medically trained, yes, I know what he does is wrong/inaccurate, but that’s the whole point: he’s a somewhat clueless but enthusiastic roleplaying boy, not a real doctor. Thank you to @colettebronte for the read-through and suggestions. Enjoy! <3

It’s been one of those spectacularly shit days at work. When you get to your boyfriend’s flat, all you want to do is shower, crash out and watch brainless TV together.

“Bad day?” Benedict intuits, wandering over from the kitchen, casual in shorts and a t-shirt, as you drop your bag like a tonne of bricks near his front door and pout.

“Hate my job,” you whine, burying your head into his shoulder as he chuckles affectionately, pulling you into his arms and busses a kiss onto your temple.

“No, you don’t; you love your job. You just didn’t love it today,” he smiles into your hair.

“Urgh, fine, yes, Mr EQ, yes, that's true,” you huff his neck, enjoying his clean scent.

“Come with me, my stressed-out noodle,” he offers good-naturedly, withdrawing from the embrace and lacing your fingers with his. He backs up, pulling you along with him further into the flat.

“Where are we going?” you pout again.

“To eat, I made us dinner,” he smiles, something melting in your chest at the sweet gesture. 

“Do I have time to shower first?” you ask, wanting to remove all physical traces of this workday from your skin.

“Of course, be my guest,” he nods towards his room, with the en suite bathroom beyond, and you drop a kiss on his cheek as you go.

—

Fifteen minutes later, you emerge freshly showered and wearing some of his clothes- a t-shirt that swamps you and jogging bottoms you have to roll up at the waist. You take a seat at the kitchen island and tuck into the amazing-smelling food he has laid out, even giving you a comedic bow as you reenter the room.

The food tastes like heaven, and you can't stop the appreciative moans at the flavour explosion on your tongue.

“Fuck Ben, this is delicious,” you assert as you swallow the mouthful.

His face lights up with that beguiling smile that hooked you in the first place all those months ago, and you can't help but lean in and give him a quick peck.

“So do you want to talk about the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day? Or is this more of a big glass of wine and stfu sort of deal?“ he hedges amiably, assessing your needs.

You sigh as you finish your next bite. “Honestly? I don't know. I’m so stressed about it all I sort of don’t want to talk about it. I feel like I need to be one of those Regency ladies who is prescribed a trip to the seaside for my nerves, you know?” you jest, circling your empty fork in the air to highlight your point.

He barks a laugh. “Funny you should say that; I was just reading a book about hilarious historical cures.”

“Yeah…?” your interest piqued.

“Dorset left it out,” he explains, referring to his roommate, a junior doctor at Guys Hospital. “It's hilarious. But I don't think they would diagnose you with a trip to the seaside, at least not based on what I’ve read.”

You swivel on your stool to face him. “Oh no? Then what would I have been prescribed, Dr Bridgerton?” you jest, leaning your chin on your hand and arching a challenging brow. But you don't miss how his pupils dilate a fraction as you address him such.

He turns towards you with a laconic smile. “You likely would have been prescribed a course of pelvic stimulations.”

You are glad you hadn't taken another bite of dinner, as you would have sprayed him with food with that spit take.

“What?!? No!” you laugh incredulously.

“Don't believe me? Go look,” he challenges, gesturing to the book on the coffee table.

“So… Is that what I think it is? Women would literally be told, medically, to masturbate?” you giggle, disbelieving.

“Oh no,” he corrects. “You wouldn't do it; the doctor would.”

“What the…??”

“Yup… ‘to alleviate the female hysterics’,” he chimes, affecting an old-timely announcer voice.

“With what?” you ponder aloud, still utterly perplexed.

“Hands, I would assume,” he breezes. “Why? Would you like a helping hand?” he winks, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

“I mean….” you trail off, still laughing but feeling a tiny buzz between your legs at the idea. “I'm not going to say no… Doctor Bridgerton,” you banter back.

Benedict puts down his fork, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows his bite of food and turns slowly towards you, an enigmatic glint in his eye.

“Well, now, you will need a thorough medical examination before I can determine if such a prescription is even the correct one,” he throws out, still with a jovial air, but the dropped octave is decidedly suggestive.

“How long until I can get an appointment?” you shoot back, feeling the atmosphere in the room shift, the dynamic between you playful but with a definite undercurrent of heat now.

“The doctor is always in… for you,” he answers, a hand landing heavily on your knee. “If you are ready, please go wait in the exam room,” Benedict responds, signalling to the sofa, that hand squeezing slightly. “The doctor can be right with you.”

You giggle and shoot him a ‘Are we really doing this?’ look. When he nods, you wiggle off the stool and drift over to the sectional as he disappears down the hallway, your half-eaten dinners now very much abandoned. Little butterflies in your stomach as you perch, eagerly awaiting his return.

When he re-enters the room, you almost forget how to breathe. He has obviously raided his flatmate's room and come out wearing a white doctor’s overcoat, his shapely calves bare beneath the hem, a stethoscope slung casually around his shoulders. He has also dug out his reading glasses to complete the look. He is so utterly convincing you don't know what to think, except…. Oh fuck yes.

“Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n,” he greets, stepping effortlessly into the roleplay. “I'm Dr Bridgerton. Tell me, what ails you today?” 

He sits on the coffee table right in front of you, looking at you expectantly for your response.

“Hello, doctor,” you begin, stilted, still a little discombobulated by his appearance and how utterly aroused you are by it. “I… I am overworked in my job and don't know the best way to relieve the stress I feel….” 

“Well, I am sorry to hear that. Let us do a basic examination so I can rule out any possible physical ailments and go from there.” Before you can respond, he produces disposable gloves from his overcoat pocket and snaps them on, your tummy fluttering at the sight of them pulling taunt around his long fingers. 

Oh, he means it.

He leans in, his hands cupping your jaw, warm even through the latex. You whimper quietly, realising he is pretending to feel the lymph nodes beneath your ear for swelling. But he doesn't let go; he just stares you down, his eyes glittering in the lamp glow. 

“Say ahhh,” he prompts.

You open your mouth instinctively, just like at the doctor’s. He pivots a hand so his thumb gently presses down on your tongue as he peers into your mouth.

“Hmm, I see no evidence of an oral infection. But I should check via other means too, to be thorough,” he murmurs, pupils dilating as you cheekily close your lips around his thumb and suck on it suggestively. The powdery flavour on the glove somehow just heightens the heat you feel spreading inside.

“Behave please, Miss,” he rebukes, but his actions say otherwise - extracting his thumb and trailing your saliva in a line down over your chin, your neck, resting it in your suprasternal notch as his fingers curl around your neck and tug you towards him.

His kiss is deep and breathtaking. His tongue unfurls into your mouth and probes yours as if this, too, is a thorough examination. You follow his lead, letting him dictate the terms, wanting to follow wherever he is going with this.

“I think we can rule out anything in your mouth being the problem,” he opines drolly over your lips. 

“Thank you, doctor,” you respond coquettish.

“Let me listen to your lungs to ensure there are no respiratory problems. Remove your clothing, please,” he orders brusquely, sitting back.

“All of it?” you inhale sharply.

“I suppose just your top for now,” he revises, looking a tad impatient.

When you whip off the top to reveal you are without a bra, his eyes flash, and the tip of his tongue pokes out as your nipples pebble in the cool air of the room. A wave of something behind your ribs as he unfurls the stethoscope from around his neck and places it in his ears.

“Please keep your hands at your sides at all times. And beware, this may be cold,” he warns.

You squeak as the cool metal is placed onto the flesh above your left breast, your hands curling around the sofa edge by your thighs so you keep them as told.

“Breath in deeply for me,” he instructs, and you do, taking a deep inhale, feeling your body bloom with his proximity as his face squints in concentration. When he doesn't say exhale, you hold, unsure what else to do, your lungs feeling tight. It seems much longer than necessary. “And out”

He drags the bell over your sternum to the same spot on the right side. 

“Again” he orders. You follow the instructions, taking a deep breath. “Hold it,” he alerts, as you start to feel the struggle for air. You do his bidding, feeling that trademark ache under your ribs under the exertion. “And release,” he instructs just as you want to disobey.

“Good,” he rumbles, “just one more.”

You pant lightly as he drags the scope down between your breasts, then jump as he presses it low into the sensitive spot where your ribs meet on your diaphragm. 

“In and hold.”

As you do, he tilts forward and suddenly seizes a nipple between his teeth. You make a strangled noise in your closed mouth, a zipping thrill right down to your clit. The surprise makes air escape out your nose, fingers grasping the cushion.

“No,” he gruffs into your breast, not looking up at you. “I told you to hold. You hold your breath until I say you can release,” he lectures. “Now breath in and hold it,” his voice taking on a steely edge that makes your pussy constrict.

Wordlessly, you do as told, and this time, he swaps to your other nipple, biting down, then lathing with his hot tongue as you struggle—tight lungs, intense pressure behind your cheeks. The thronging pleasure around where he teases you makes it an almost impossible task; starting to struggle a little, your body twitching, fingers and toes flexing.

“Let it out,” he permits, and you open your mouth, the air escaping in a loud ‘pahhhh’ sound.

“Well, I think your lungs sound very healthy,” he breezes nonchalantly as if this is just how a doctor does an exam.

“That’s good,” you defer to his faux expertise even as you feel his saliva drying on your areola. 

“Now, let's test your heart,” he proceeds, pulling the stethoscope from his ears so it rests around his neck. “Remove the rest of your clothing now, please, Miss.”

“Is that strictly necessary, doctor? Just to listen to my heart?” you waver, even as your hands go to the ties at your waistband.

“I am the doctor here, am I not?” he counters, raising a brow.

“Yes,” you demure, a pulse around your clit at how thoroughly he inhabits this role.

“You may find it easier to stand,” he chuckles as he watches you shuffling, struggling to remove your bottoms while seated. 

So you do as he suggests, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin around your belly button as you push the loose jersey material over the swell of your hips. He growls at the other surprise lurking—you wear no underwear, your bare slit inches from his face as the clothing pools around your feet, now utterly naked.

“Is this okay, doctor?” you simper, looking down at him sitting on the coffee table as he finally tilts his head to look at your face.

“Lay down on the exam table,” he commands, his pointer finger jabbing towards the chaise.

“Make me…”

Your tongue rebels before your brain can engage, wanting to see how much he will take control if you act out. He springs to his feet, towering over you, inches from you, and grasps the nape of your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Are you questioning my methods?” he interrogates, his hold strong but not hurting.

Oh, yes, Benedict, well done.

“No, Doctor,” you simper, attempting to look innocent but knowing your eyes must be fully dilated by now, distracted by the pulse you see in his throat.

“I need to be very thorough before I can diagnose you accurately, Miss,” he cautions. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, doctor.” 

“Good. Now lay down,” he instructs brusquely, releasing his grip.

You drop to the sofa and lay out for him, a thrill zipping over your skin. He places a large cushion beneath your neck and head so you are tilted up and can see down the plain of your naked body.

“Now be very still and be very quiet. Keep your hands at your sides. Whatever I do to you is to ensure your heart is healthy. Do you understand me?” he tutors, his eyes roaming your body covetously.

“Yes, doctor,” you confirm, knowing your chest is rising and falling rapidly, the anticipation burning in your being.

He places the stethoscope directly over your heart and loops it back into his ears, the cool metal now a balm against your flushed skin.

“You have a good strong heartbeat,” he states casually, “But it is a little slow for my liking….”

His gloved hand loops around the leg closest to him and hauls it wide into his lap, your knee brushing a prominent bulge under the overcoat that makes your insides clench at the very thought of his cock.

“Stay still.” 

His clipped reminder is delivered as he trails his fingertips along your inner thigh, his other hand still holding the stethoscope against your chest. Your breath stutters as his latex-covered fingers nudge your folds, already weeping.

“Well, I see there is certainly no problem with your ability to get aroused,” he intones smokily with a tantalising brush over your clit. 

His moves are unrushed, his touch maddeningly light, not nearly enough, barely a glance over your soaked flesh, making you ache for more. After a few moments, you whine and defiantly attempt to push into his touch.

“Did I not tell you to be still and quiet?” he arches an eyebrow, and you pout but still yourself and fold your lips inwards under your teeth. “That’s better. Now let's see what happens when I….”

He expertly plunges two long fingers into your pussy, your arousal leaking over his gloves as he does so. He hisses his approval at your heated cling, pushing deep as you swallow your gasp, biting your lip to prevent any more sound from escaping. His fingers hook, and his wrist twists in slow corkscrew turns, dragging thoroughly over your walls as if giving you an internal exam. You crave more: more fingers, movement, friction, more of anything, your fingernails scratching against the fibres of the sofa, keeping them at your sides as told, even as you itch to grab his wrist and direct his motions.

“Interesting,” he mutters, his fingers swirling slowly, probing inside as he drags the scope fractionally on your sternum.

You utter a silent curse, your body already quivering. The room filled only with the sound of your ragged breathing and the sodden noise from between your legs as he leisurely rocks his gloved fingers into and out of your pussy, you suctioning around his knuckles, the stretch with each stroke making you want to beg for him to make you come.

“Your heart is definitely strong,” he declares, “but I think we need to put it to the test properly.”

His thumb presses onto your clit, and it's like a lightning bolt through your being. Something about the fact it's not his skin on yours lends an extra frisson. You can feel the warmth of his pad behind the latex barrier as he flicks against your swollen nub.

“More, please, Doctor Bridgerton, please,” you entreat desperately, attempting to tilt your pelvis to ride his hand.

He groans at your use of his name, not chastising you for vocalising. His rigid cock brushes your knee held in his lap as he surges his hips fractionally, your legs spread obscenely wide as he finger fucks you, his stethoscope leaving a circular imprint on your chest, almost bearing his weight into your skin. God help you both if his flatmate cuts his night shift short.

“Your bpm is rising,” he reports as his fingers move faster, wringing filthy noises from your body now, pushing harder with every stroke, his thumb circling your clit with unerring pressure. You just moan a litany of ‘Dr Ben’, and ‘yes’ and ‘please don’t stop’ as you spiral higher.

“That's it, yes, that's what I like to hear,” he encourages, “it's like music.” 

Even you can tell your heart is thumping now, hearing it loud in your own ears as the blood rushes to your head. Just as you are about to crest, he suddenly stops his ministrations and withdraws his fingers. You cry out as he rests the soaked glove on your lower belly, pressing down softly from the outside on that spot that aches for more, your own juices dripping down between your bum cheeks.

“Shhh shh,” he pacifies, the scope he still holds with his other hand feeling heavy on your flesh as his prideful gaze travels up your panting body, gleeful at his ability to do this to you. 

You plead with your eyes as his eyes finally reach your face, silently asking him to finish.

“Wonderful, your heartbeat is so strong in my ears,” he sounds almost wistful, dreamy. 

Your breathing slows, even as you feel the burn of an orgasm so denied, your pelvis throning, your clit painfully engorged.

“Hmm, let’s go again, shall we?” he smirks.

That’s all the warning you get before he plunges his fingers back inside, this time using three, the latex glove squeaking slightly around his palm. You scream and cant your body up off the sofa to the point he briefly lets go of the scope; his glove presses down on your diaphragm, forcing you back flat so you cannot ride his fingers like you want to.

“Please, doctor…” you beseech, voice reedy and wanton, uncaring about anything but being hurled over that divine edge.

“The more you ask, the less I am inclined to deliver,” he menaces. “I will just edge you all night and listen to your heart thumping so hard for me it sounds like it wants to break out from under your ribs.” he jerks the scope pointedly over your breastbone. 

You close your eyes and bite your lip, resigning yourself to obey. That he might keep you on edge for so long, you cannot bear—you need to come like you need air.

His handsome face is smug as he once again probes your body from inside, almost experimenting based on the tiny whimpers you make. He jabs a spot that makes your entire body spasm, and a crooked, dangerous smile spreads over his features.

“Oh, look what we have found,” his chest resonant with pitch, the tone dark and sweet.

Once again, you beg silently, but he indulges in the tease. Tapping gently on the spot rather than rocking into it, a slow, gentle touch that makes every nerve jangle, like an itch you cannot scratch hard enough.

“I love to see you like this,” he admits breathily as he keeps us at that vexing pace. “So strung out and desperate to come. You would do anything I told you to right now, wouldn't you? If I just promised to let you over the edge.”

You are nodding vigorously before he even finishes his sentence, his triumphant expression almost galling if not for the desire writ large on his face.

“Good,” he snarls and starts to jab on that same spot. Desire roars fire in your veins, and you scream, your body trembling. He leans over and captures one of your nipples in his wet, warm mouth, and you scream again, uncaring what any of his neighbours may think.

You are dangling on the edge, reality bleeding into pleasure when once again he stops, and the noise that escapes your lungs is feral—a wretched groaning wail as an inferno licks around every edge of your being.

“Listen,” he growls, roughly yanking the tubes from his ear and placing them over yours. The noise is almost deafening, a thumping rhythm so fast it is virtually interpolating and looping upon itself. It's fascinating and life-affirming even as your body cries out, your clit pulsing in tempo with the thrumming beat. Greedily, he grabs them back and places them over his ears again, moving the bell to the right, his breath gusting hard.

“Touch yourself,” he orders gruffly.

It doesn't take moments for your hand to slide between your legs and catch your clit, a hardened, searing nub so wet you can hardly find grip and so distended it doesn't even feel like your body.

He leans possessively over you, a vein in his neck pulsing as he listens intently, his eyes pinging between your face, the scope on your naked chest and your hand between your legs, rubbing vigorously.

When his fingers sink back inside you, your knuckles cradled in his palm as you strum your clit, it hurtles you instantly over. You grasp his bicep as you crest the wave, your whole body held taught then snapping, shuddering and pulsing forcefully around his fingers as you tumble down that abyss, his stethoscope almost bruising your breastbone as you writhe, him singing your praises. You don't recall the next few moments, floating far away as everything is fuzzy, as if behind a gauzy filter. 

“Oh, that was perfect,” he attests sotto voce as you return to yourself, shaking with tony aftershocks. “You should hear how alive your body sounds when you come like that. Fuck that was amazing…” he seems almost dazed, his fingers dormant inside you.

As he withdraws from you, you emit a mewl, overwrought and shaking from the intensity. 

“Well, Miss,” he begins, slipping back into his roleplay. “I can say without a doubt you are very healthy, so no concern there. I can also tell your stress level is much lower now. Thus, I shall be prescribing you a minimum of two orgasms a day. Purely for your health, you understand,” he adds with a knowing smirk.

“Yes, doctor,” you nod drowsily, slurring slightly. “Should I administer them mysel…?”

“No,” he cuts in. “I'm afraid it requires a medical professional such as myself to ensure correct dosage,” his tone gravelly, snapping off the gloves from his hands, balling them up and tossing them aside. “You will need to see me morning and night for at least a month until I can properly assess whether the treatment plan is effective.”

“Yes, Doctor Bridgerton,” you purr sibilant, too strung out to do anything but languidly agree to everything he says.

As you go to close your legs, he grabs your kneecap, preventing you.

“Oh no, we are not done here,” he intones with a tinge of menace.

“No?” you stutter.

“No, I need to be very thorough,” he counters, his voice rich like velvet. His bare fingers trail ticklish patterns over the crease of your knee as he smiles perilously, enjoying keeping you on tenterhooks. “I am nowhere near done with your treatment for the day. You have only had one climax, and I do believe I said you need a minimum of two per day," he reminds you, his stare blistering. 

You watch, almost stupified, as he removes the stethoscope and swivels to kneel between your legs, grabbing them and pushing them high and wide apart, the burning stretch along your inner thighs making you gasp.

“Now, are you going to do exactly what your doctor tells you to do this time?” he grills, his fingers digging into your flesh, his gaze intense.

“Yes, Doctor.”

“Good,” the word resonates through his being as his hungry stare slips over your body, down between your legs. “Now I think you need something more substantial than fingers, don't you?” he smirks playfully.

“Please, yes, please, Doctor Bridgerton,” you implore, canting your breasts up towards him, your eyes covetously sliding down his body as he hovers over you. Your breath quickens when you see the clear outline of his cock bulging against the overcoat. Oh god, is he naked under there? The thought makes you clench again.

You raise your hands and tug at the collar of his overcoat until the first popper opens, revealing his constellation of freckles. When he doesn't stop you, emboldened, you pull again, each popper relenting, a larger slice of his naked torso revealed with each ping. By the time you are down to the last two, you see the trail of hair from beneath his belly button and moan.

“You have been naked this whole time, doctor?!” your voice hitching almost scratchy.

He grabs your hand away, pressing it into the cushion above your head as he bears you into the sofa with his weight, one of that last fastened poppers snagging cold metal against your swollen clit.

“I cannot ask my patients to be naked if I am not as well, surely?” he rumbles, hot in your ear, his warm chest covering yours. He grabs your other wrist and guides it to the same place. “Now, hold onto the cushion under your head and don't move your hands until I say so,” he orders, his smoulder turning lethal as you do as told. 

He pulls up slightly and yanks the rest of the coat open, throwing it aside, giving you only a fleeting glance before surging his leaking, heated cock right over your slit.

“God, Ben, fuck me,” your errant internal monologue slips from your tongue before you can stop it.

“Who is Ben?” he quips duskily, rocking in a distracting manner, his tip glancing into your folds. “There is only Doctor Bridgerton here tonight.”

“Doctor Bridgerton,” you amend, fingers curling into the seam of the throw cushion, fighting the urge to grab him, “please fuck me.” 

He smiles triumphantly and lowers himself over you so you are swamped by him. 

“Well, as you asked so nicely…” 

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

Dividers credit: @/firefly-graphics

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[kiwisa]

brew-tiful ✩ dr03

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem! Barista! Reader

fluff • 500 words

IN WHICH... daniel should look at what he's ordering instead of making eyes at the pretty barista.

Anyone who happened to cross paths with Daniel every morning at 8:38 sharp, in that little cafe whose name never interested him, thought his caffeine addiction was beyond reason.

Mistakenly, but he could see where they were coming from.

If the black liquid was, indeed, an integral part of his life now, it was only because of the woman behind the counter, who he sacrificed a few dollars to every day. And God knew how much those little coins spent on this drink amounted to a fortune.

Even though money had never been an issue, let alone now ⏤ thanks to Red Bull and his new contract ⏤ he couldn't help but grit his teeth at the receipts piling up in his wallet. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the sum spent between these four walls. Otherwise, a few tears would paint his face blue. For sure.

He didn't even like coffee... For that demonic liquid — seriously, who could drink this and enjoy it? — to slide on his tongue without making a grimace appear on his face, its bitter taste had to be drowned in milk and at least three sugars.

So why bother? You must wonder, dear reader.

“Ah Danny! I was starting to believe you weren't coming today!”

It was for that voice, full of joy, tenderness, and that laughter whose notes must have been put end to end by angels. It was for you, Y/N L/N, that the Australian man came here daily, even when his wallet was crying in pain, even when coffee was the bane of his entire existence.

“And not see my favourite barista? Impossible.”

There was something about you that made his heart panic, warmed his soul, and made him want to throw up sometimes because of your kindness. A rather interesting mix: some would call it “feelings.” You were the personification of happiness, a ray of sunshine in his life constantly marred by the routine of travel and racing.

Cheeks flushed, mind wandering to fantasies of his hand in yours, his lips against your forehead, he didn't notice the almost loving gaze you placed on him, nor did he feel your fingers brushing against his as you gave him the cup. An espresso. Hell in liquid form.

Not in your eyes, however, who constantly praised it. You had suggested it to him on his first visit ⏤ saying that it was your favourite way to drink coffee ⏤ and since then he had not yet broken this unspoken rule to order one daily.

Thanking you, avoiding your gaze, Daniel hastily left the cafe, like every morning at 8:46.

Like every morning at 8:47, he tried to take a sip of this infamous brew.

Like every morning at 8:51, he dropped the still hot drink in the bottom of the closest trash can.

Like every morning at 8:51, he didn’t notice the number written in a messy way, as if in a hurry, on the cardboard cup.

Better luck tomorrow, you thought.

✩ taglist !

@sad1esgf @muglermami @i0veless @16solace @kenanlotus0 @till1am @itsnotgray @lilsiz @starkwlkr @missflobelova @mehrmonga @fxllfaiiry @crimeshowjunkie @anicega @kosmosgalore @lovemarvel16 @charles-dimple @hiding-behindmy-glasses @exatse @serenityleah @flowerchild-96 @hopiiex @ivegotparticulartaste @jivas0 @screechingtrashkid @gxp30 @lauren--maex

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo blurb #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 rpf #formula one fanfiction #formula one oneshot #formula one x you #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo fanfic

[thatsdemko]

one night with you - p.gasly

masterlist

requested: n

parings: pierre gasly x fem!reader

warnings: one room trope + enemies to friends to lovers(ish)

a/n: inspired by one of my favorite books one night on the island by Josie silvers (book linked if interested)

it’s how every story goes, there’s only one bed, only one seat, only one car, etc. . it’s how every “fairytail” started, and somehow you were living your least favorite trope main characters nightmare.

it all started with renting an Airbnb in Monte Carlo with a couple of friends, and he, of all people, showed up. your friends, and their significant others, had promised he was too busy in Milan to make time for a friendly get away. but there he was with his stupid French accent arms wide open as a surprise.

the second thing to happen was your flight was delayed making you the second to last person to arrive—the last person arriving being him. you were given the shitty bedroom with twin size bunk beds, and to top things off he had to room with you.

“chérie, it’s going to be fun! we can stay up all night and tell ghost stories.” he’s practically giddy to share a room with you because he knows how much you hate him. he loves antagonizing you and he loves watching you squirm around his gaze.

“I think I’m going to vomit.” your words are bitter at the tongue, feeling his hand gently touch your shoulder as he passes by you to head to unload his things in your shared room.

“its just for the night, he leaves tomorrow afternoon. you’ll survive.” your friend gives you a promising smile, but you’re not sure you can trust them. they told you he wouldn’t be joining this trip, and now you have to share a bedroom. who’s to say you’ll actually survive.

—

the nights winding down, almost everyone has already headed to crash to prepare for tomorrow, but you’re trying to deny your fate. you think if you sit out here long enough it’ll all go away. maybe he’ll go away.

you’re watching the orange flames dance around the fire pit, there’s only a couple of pieces of wood left in there, as ashes began to spew into the air. you hear the back door open, and it’s Pierre coming outside with a blanket. you hadn’t realized he had gone in some time ago, you didn’t notice his departure.

“you’re going to freeze if you’re going to stay out here.” he lays the fuzzy material across your lap where goosebumps and chills traveled your body. you’re thankful for his gesture, and it’s probably the first time he will ever hear you say those two words.

“coming to bed soon?” he asks, checking the time on his phone and it’s only just after 1am. usually you were one of the first to head in for the night, he’s surprised you were up this late.

“yeah I think so, you don’t have to wait up.”

“so you’re fine if I take the bottom bunk? my arms are sore from working out.” you can’t tell if he’s being serious, but when you look over he’s got a playful smile on his face. you just roll your eyes in response shooing him away for some more alone time. you were going to need it in order to spend a night in the same room as him.

“don’t be out too late!”

it’s not even ten minutes after he leaves, the fire is just hot coals and you’re left with whatever fate had for you, as you trekked your way up into the house and up into your shitty bedroom.

you gently knock twice before opening the door. you’ve never shared a room with a man before, let alone pierre gasly, so you’re not sure what to expect, but when you do open the door, it’s not what you thought it would be.

pushing open the door carefully, you’re greeted to a dim lamp light, and him sprawled across the top bunk shirtless. his legs hang over the edge while his head rests on the wood ledge of the bunk. he’s definitely too big for the bed which makes you chuckle.

“what’s funny down there?” he peaks his head down, hands gripping the railing, it makes him look like a little kid eager for a bedtime story.

“you in that stupid bunk bed.” you close the door behind you beginning to search your luggage for your pajamas when you notice Pierre’s clothes are scattered next to his bags.

“you couldn’t put your clothes away?” you throw his expensive shirt at him, he catches it and throws it back at you hitting perfectly you in the face.

“you can keep the shirt, it’ll be a souvenir to the best night of your life.” he sends you a wink, and you can feel your blood boiling. you’re not sure what it is about that, but it got you going, he just had that ability to press your buttons without the slightest clue.

“this isn’t funny, pierre! you’re not supposed to even be on this trip! you were supposed to be in Milan being the biggest fucking jerk somewhere else! now you’re here ruining my vacation.” your words vibrated through you, it was almost like you weren’t even speaking they just flew out of you, but it didn’t make you feel better. in fact, it made you feel worse, because there sat a man in his twin bed looking like the most pathetic idiot because of you.

“wow, I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” he swallows, his eyes not meeting yours, you feel bad. there’s something about how he looks that makes you want to rush up to him and apologize, tell him it’s not his fault it’s just that ever since you both met, you hated him.

“yeah, well I know how you feel about me.”

he scoffs shaking his head, “do you? tell me, how do I feel about you.” his finger tips tap the wood while his other hand holds up his chin, he’s waiting for you to spill what you thought you knew.

you sigh, unsure where to begin but somewhere it all starts, “I know that ever since I joined this friend group you’ve hated me from the second because I didn’t want to go skydiving, that I was a wimp for crying because I twisted my ankle hiking, and because I hate your driving!”

he’s laughing, you’re not sure when he started, but he’s pretty much bent over holding his stomach laughing. he couldn’t believe how ridiculous you sounded because none of that was true.

“are you done? because that’s hysterical.” he’s still laughing, but he’s climbing down from the top bunk to where you stood, his dirty t-shirt laying on the floor in front of you, “I don’t hate you. whoever told you that was messing with you.”

you feel stupid and small. he’s hovering over you a goofy grin on his face, “let’s start over, yeah? I’m Pierre and we have to share a bunk bed. you want to be my roommate for the night?” he extends his hand, awaiting for you to accept the fresh new start.

“I’m y/n, I’d like to be your roommate.” you take his big hand in yours and shake. he moves out of the way gesturing to your bed, which happened to be the bottom bunk.

“your bed.” he undoes the covers for you and fluffing the pillows.

“ah thank you, but first I must change.” you turn on your heel grabbing your pajamas. you barely open the bedroom door to see there was already a line for the one bathroom.

“do you mind just turning around so I can change?” you close the door once again, and his back is already facing yours. you slowly begin to take off your clothes afraid at any moment he was going to let his intrusive thoughts take over, and turn around.

“you know, I have seen you naked by accident.” he admits, it was many summers ago, but you were in one of the guest bedrooms of his summer home. he thought Charles was in the bedroom you were in, so when he opened the door, and was greeted to a pair of breasts he was quite surprised.

“we just became friends, pierre.” you challenge hearing him laugh, it was almost like music to your ears now that you didn’t hate him. you actually enjoyed his laugh, it was infectious.

“so you’re saying I shouldn’t turn around?” he fakes you out, your arm quickly covers your chest giving his back a shove. he’s back in a laughing fit that you join now.

“you test me, gasly.” you pull your shirt over your head, moving in front of him to show you are fully dressed and he’s free to go back to his bunk.

“I think you like it.”

you’re blushing, quickly moving to get under the covers of your small bed, “I do not.” you stick out your tongue like a little child and he slaps your arm.

“please you’re practically in love with me now that you stopped hating me.” he’s leaning over your bed, his body practically on top of yours, while his head inches from hitting the panels that hold his bunk up above yours.

you inhale his cologne nervously laughing, because at that moment you felt butterflies in your stomach. not just because you were nervous, but because he was so close. this was the first time you ever saw Pierre as someone other than an enemy.

“I just like you that’s it.” you’re afraid to breathe, it’s like if you did he’d pull his body away from yours, and you didn’t want him to. you wanted him there.

“you sure?” he teases, face moving closer to yours, his chin is resting on your stomach, close to your breasts. his eyes are glowing in the dim light, and you so badly want to get lost in them.

“yeah,” your exhale was supposed to be more of a sigh, but it sounded far more from that, he chuckles moving closer to your face, but then swiftly pulls away.

“goodnight, cherie—“

“kiss me you fool.” you cut him off, legs swinging from under the sheets grabbing his leg pulling trying to pull him down from the ladder before it was too late and he was asleep.

he looks down, a cheeky smile on his face, he’s moving down the ladder. his hand cups your cheek as he bends down, pressing his lips against yours. of all those times you hated his entire existence, you were absolutely wrapped into him. his lips were soft, but firm against yours. it was like melting into heaven, a moan escaped your lips.

“one night with me isn’t so bad, huh?”

“I guess not.”

#pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly drabble #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly fanfic #f1 #f1 driver x you #f1 driver x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #alpine

[cyberrose2001]

hi hope you're well, a kinda long text coming...

with all the requests FILLED (literally) with joy with optimus, I shall be the one to break it HAHAHA so... can you do like a scenario where the reader and optimus are happy living their lives with the sparklings (imagine triplets!!!) everything is perfect but then........

optimus wakes up from his dream and realizes it all, the perfect family is not real, the reader is not alive, not being able to live with it, he suffers everyday bc of those dreams, he traps himself in this "reality" of his dreams (like that episode fr tfp on Megatron's mind) and isolate himself

hope that's not to sad >:) and if you're comfortable writing this, if not sorry.

Thank you author ❤️❤️❤️

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

you're very welcome anon!! this took waaaay too many drafts HAHA but im quite happy with it now, this is such a sad concept and now i just wanna give op a hug :(

I should also mention that I left the details of the sparklings biology unspecified. Whether you prefer them to be cybertronian, human or half-and-half is up to you! <3

Warnings: Angst, SFW

Word count: 1436

“Optimus, honey?” The wonderful voice of his lover called out to him. Closing the front door behind him, Optimus breathes a sigh of relief. Her soft voice calling out his name plays on repeat in his processor. “Is that you? Could you come and help me for a second?”

He had no idea how he got so lucky, to start a family with who he considers the most beautiful specimen in the known universe. Together, they both created three sparklings, all triplets and it was further proof that either Primus or another deity of life had seen the good that Optimus had done and blessed him with both her and sparklings. The day he found out that she was pregnant with them was the first time in his life that he experienced pure joy, the second time was when she gave birth to his little ones and officially became a sire.

With a soft smile, Optimus follows her voice to the playroom of the quaint house he calls home. He is thankful that mass displacement technology exists, allowing him to comfortably live in the house with his family. He observes from the doorway as his sparklings play with stuffed toys and little building blocks, making an absolute mess of the room. He clears his throat and leans against the doorway with folded servos, “I hope you young ones are going to help your mother with cleaning up.”

Three small heads perk up at the voice of their sire, all of them dropping their toys and bouncing over to him. He kneels down and gives his two sons a strong hug, pecking them both on the heads with kisses.

“Daddy!” The last born of the three calls out to him. Optimus chuckles softly as he opens his arms for her, embracing her close to his chassis. Now Optimus is not the one to pick favourites with his sparklings and loves them all equally, but his only daughter was the first one to hug him whenever he came home. She was also the one who took the most interest in his stories of when he was the great leader of the Autobots, constantly begging for her sire to re-tell them as a bedtime story, with the more graphic details left out. It makes the inner archivist within Optimus swell with pride that at least one of his sparklings has taken a liking to the history of his home planet.

“Hello, my sweetspark.” Optimus nuzzles his faceplate to her nose, enjoying the little giggles that erupted from her. He picks her up and places her on his hip, a servo supporting her under her bottom, “Did you have fun today?”

“Yeah! Look what I do!” His toddler babbles as she points to a large tower made out of the small plastic blocks. It wasn’t very impressive by Cybertronian standards of what sparklings can do, but it doesn’t matter to Optimus, he will gush over anything that his kids build or draw in order to expand their creativity.

“Did you build that?” Optimus smiles at her, “How clever of you, honey.”

She nods eagerly, a big grin on her face, “Mommy helped!”

“Did she?” He looks towards his wife who was kneeled on the floor, stomach swollen with the life of another sparkling. She was sorting out the seemingly endless pile of toys that was thrown about on the floor. Optimus can’t help but admire his wifes devotion to their children, playing with them even when heavily pregnant. The incredible and important job of being a mother is something that Optimus has learned and respected during his time on Earth, especially after witnessing it firsthand.

“I did, now could you help me get up off the floor?” She chuckles, a hand rubbing her pregnant stomach.

Optimus carefully steps over the toys to walk over to her. He offers his servo and she graciously took it, pulling her up off the floor. She huffs a little bit and tries to catch her breath, bent knees trying to brace the weight of her unborn child.

“Thank you, love.” She sighs, lightly tracing the servo that still held onto her hand, “You would think I’d learn from my previous pregnancy to not get on the floor.”

Optimus laughs softly, readjusting his daughter on his hip, “It is probably not the wisest decision.”

She laughs, reminiscing the memory of her stuck on the floor while she was pregnant with the triplets, and he can feel himself falling in love with her all over again. She is absolutely glowing, and Optimus can’t help but bask in her natural beauty. Leaning forward, he presses a chaste kiss to her lips, smiling through it as he hears their sparklings protest as most children do when they see their parent’s smooch, “Yucky, Daddy!”

 He pulls away from the kiss and brushes a servo across the tight skin of her stomach, feeling the little kicks of their soon-to-be newborn. Optimus doesn’t want to jinx anything yet, but he prays to Primus that it is another little girl.

She smiles and places her own hand on top of his, sharing the moment together. But Optimus does not notice that her smile faltered for a second.

“Optimus, you know that this can’t last forever.” His wife whispers quietly so that the sparkling he held can’t hear.

Optimus perks his helm up to look at her, confusion plastered on his face, his gentle caresses on her stomach halting for a moment, “What cannot last forever?”

She reaches a soft hand out to caress his faceplates, a small tear threatening to spill down her flushed cheeks. Despite being incredibly confused at his wife’s turn of behaviour, Optimus felt a need to comfort her and returns the gesture to wipe her own tears away.

“It’s not healthy for you… you need to wake up.”

Taking a step back, digits leave her face as he nearly trips on the carpet. The words that just left your lips made his spark sink to the floor. There was no way that Optimus was dreaming, he refused to believe, not when everything that has happened within the last few months felt so real and genuine. As quick as he felt his spark sink, the cosy home that surrounded his family began to crumble and disappear around him, falling into an endless cold void. The weight of his daughter on his hip was no longer there. The softness of his wife’s hand had disappeared. Optimus was left with nothing but the darkness of his empty mind. And at that point, Optimus felt his own optics lubricate and fall down into the void, the last echoes of his wife reaching his audial receptors.

“Optimus…”

“Optimus.”

“Optimus!”

Optics snap open, scanning the ceiling above him. In an instant, he sits up right on the berth below and vents heavily. He looks around carefully at his environment and realises that he is in his berthroom on the Autobot base, it feels lifeless.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” A gentle yet firm voice reassures and pushes him back onto the berth, “I heard a distress signal from your internal instruments, is everything alright?”

Optimus recognises Ratchet, but the old bots words are drowned out by his processor running on overdrive. His wife, his sparklings, and his unborn little one are no-where to be found. Frantic optics flicker around every inch of the emptiness of his berthroom, hoping and wishing that they would be waiting just outside the room or hiding somewhere, playing that fun earth game called hide-and-seek that he enjoyed playing with his sparklings.

Ratchet notices the distant look in his friend’s optics and places a servo on his shoulder to try and ground him to the present, “Optimus, you’re fine, it seems as if you have just experienced a nightmare.”

His grip on the berth was hard. That was no nightmare. That was his life, a life that has now been taken away from him as a cruel punishment. All Optimus had ever wanted was right there in his grasp. He didn’t care about his friends, and he didn’t care about the Autobot cause anymore.

He just wants his family back.

“It was not.” Optimus whispers out, vocaliser stuttering. He knew Ratchet wouldn’t understand the monumental loss that he had just suffered, but Optimus could not deal with his old friend at this point in time. Just as Ratchet was about to question him, Optimus lets out a pained sob.

“Please…” He held his helm in his servos as lubricant began leaking from his optics once again, “Just leave me be.”

#transformers #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp optimus x reader #angst #sfw #x reader

[crow-girl-cock]

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

click this.

now for introduction.

my name is Renée Corbeau

but you can call me ren or crow

I love crows! they feel like family to me and I hope next cycle I get to experience the life of a crow.

I have gone through alot in life and fancy myself some sort of activist by proxy of that pain, am I perfect? fuck no! I am still learning and probably operate under toxic bias still despite all the effort I have put into growth.

I'm adhd, autistic, anxious, depressive, dissacioative, probably some degree of plurality.

I'm a gender non-conforming transwoman, definitely puppy coded, and severely down bad for women, especially butch women!

that being said the human body is beautiful. especially fat bodies, I'm a sucker for meat :3

all my guys, gals, and non binary pals deserve kisses (assuming that they want them)

I love gender fuckery, people who actively blur those lines are doing the lords work.

despite being very friendly and appearing slightly outgoing sometimes, I am very shy and dont have a very large social battery.

if I ever dont repespond dont take it personally there are loads of reasons why this could be.

U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U

I am kind of a red mage when it comes to special interests, I know a little bit about alot.

(all lists are not ordered and not exhaustive)

some examples include;

from gaming~ pokemon, zelda, elderscrolls, darksouls, minecraft, osu!, space sims (elite dangerous, astroneer, dyson sphere project, hardspaceshipbreaker), roguelikes (noita, deadcells, gungeon, vagante, slaythespire)

from other media~ pokemon again, bluey, adventure time, atla, bee and puppycat, studio ghibli (nausicaa is goat), csm, bleach, dragonball, naruto, she-ra, JJK

from *gasps* real life~

space (and metaphysics), nature (it's peculiarities and the many funky adorable little guys born in it) I'm definitely a poser but skateboarding and rollerskating (I really want to get into rollerderby) philosophy (to the extent that any skid is);

History!

(not as well read as I would like becasue there is so much of it, and so much of the truth is buried under misinformation, but I have deconstructed the whole western myth of how things went and painted myself a much clearer picture as to how things got so bad and am learning new things about the world all the time, please feel free to info dump about anything history related I'd love to hear it. anthropology and archaeology too obvs)

Art!

(this is my choosen field for better or worse >⁠.⁠< I am going to college for web and graphic design (2024-2026) I might extend that an extra 2 years to make it a bachelor of design and hope to one day make graphic novels, beautifully illustrated with deep thought prevoking stories)

く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡 く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡

Kink! (definitely subject to change)

petplay, musk, intox, bondage, impact, cnc, degradation, somno, hypno, blood, knives, size difference probably more I haven't thought of

I'm poly and very t4t

I'm a switch but this hellsite has been steadily turning me into a bottom day by day heheh

but no actually

I used to be a hypersexual dom pre-transition

but E has made me alot less uncontrollably horny and far more sensitive and inclined to seek vulnerability, all my drive to dom has dissolved

also I suck at tagging and will sometimes will reblog art/random things from tags without checking bios

if that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable please see the block button for more info ;3c

.♡. .♡. .♡.

anyways since you made it this far

here have some headpats

spread kindness please and thank you ^v^

As above, So below.

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

#crøwø #crøwcaw #crøwscanvas

[fiveloml]

five hargreeves x reader. “ 'have we met?' y/n, i've fallen for you in every timeline i've been in. “ [ gender neutral reader. ]

─ ✧ season 3 spoilers ! in the new timeline the hargreeves ended up in, five finds himself facing a familiar face.

─ ✧ WOOOH the first post did really well :)!! thank u everyone ♡♡ also cw for swearing! ( though im pretty sure its like one word lmao )

[ flashback. ]

“ five!- just go! “ you yelled as you ran, knowing he couldn't hold onto you while he had ben on his back. the kugelblitz was getting closer and you couldn't keep up to fives running speed. “ no!- i am not leaving you! “ he screamed back, looking at you for a moment as he could see the kugelblitz was just behind you. as five stopped you managed to finally catch up and tell him one last time;

“ i love you, take care of my brother ben, okay? “

pushing him away as you were taken by the bright light. five instinctively blinked away and gasps when he's safe from danger for just a moment. “ damn it all! “ he yells, slamming his fists onto the ground as ben groggily wakes up from passing out.

“ where are my siblings? “ ben asks with a groan, fully opening his eyes to see five with a defeated look. tears falling to the ground as you and fei were nowhere to be seen.

“ ben.. ben they're gone. “

[ flashback end. ]

its been a few days since the hargreeves went their seperate ways, five has been having his good and bad days and tonight was a bad one. “ those assholes really left without saying anything. “ five mutters, walking towards the coffee place he often visited whenever he felt stressed.

the bell by the door rang as five entered, automatically sitting on one of the seat by the counter. “ black coffee and french toast. “ he says monotonous, “ its you again. “ five looks up to one of the waitresses that handled the coffee place. he never told her his name, but they knew each other decently enough.

“ y'know.. we've got a new member, seems about your age. “ she smiles, handing over a paper with his order to someone who worked in the kitchen. “ that would matter to me.. why? “ five says with his head facing down at the counter, he wasn't interested in love anymore. not after what happened with you in the last timeline.

the waitress smiles, “ they seem like your type. “ she winked, going off to the back as another pair of footprints walked out right after her. “ 'for the kid who comes in here wearing a suit' thats a silly name. “ the voice infront of him chuckled, but five suddenly tensed up the second he heard it.

he looked up and his widened in disbelief, he was looking at you. “ y/n? “ he managed to choke out of his speechless daze, you looked at him and blinked. “ yes? have we met before? you don't seem very familiar.. “ you tell him but five bit his bottom lip to shut him up for what he wanted to say.

“ 'have we met?' y/n, i've fallen for you in every timeline i've been in. “

“ no no we haven't, your co worker mentioned your name “ five forced a smile, taking his cup of coffee into his hands as his reflection looked back at him ever so faintly. “ thank you. “ he murmurs, taking a sip as you give him a smile. one he's missed for so long.

“ you have a nice smile, did anyone tell you?" five blurted out, not even knowing what he was thinking at this point. you blinked slightly wide-eyed at him before letting out a laugh. “actually.. not often do people compliment my smile, so i appreciate it. “ you giggle, five knew this a long time ago, but he wanted to know if you had any similarities to the 'you' he used to know.

the sound of rain falling onto the roof caught the attention of both of you, you sigh at this and look at your watch. “ oh! seems like its about time i head back. “ you say, taking off your apron as five silently watched. “ how will you head home? its raining like the world is ending over there. “ five joked with a chuckle, though the joke was interesting due to the things hes gone through.

“ my... partner.. will be picking me up. “ you say with slight hesitation in your voice. five nodded nonchalantly though his heart shattered quietly. “ partner huh.. “ he looked at you waving goodbye and entered a mans car, driving off as five sat there speechless.

“ no matter what timeline.. i really can't have you, huh? “ he says tearfully, deciding to eat his emotions away as he took a bite of his french toast.

#tua x you #tua x reader #tua x y/n #the umbrella academy x you #the umbrella academy x reader #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Thirteen

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: The first part of this is pretty plot heavy. I had initially planned for this to be a part of the previous chapter because I really don't like splitting up an event that's happening into separate parts, but it would have been super duper long. I didn't want someone to have to split reading the chapter when you could do it in one sitting. Idk. That's just me. When I finish the story, I'll re-edit everything and combine specific chapters, but that won't be for a while. ANYWAYS, thank you so much to those who have been with me since the beginning and those who have joined along the way. It means a lot to me that you decided my work was worth being interested in. I live and breathe for your support.

Chapter Warnings: Corporal punishment.

The time between arriving at the Keep and being escorted to the Queen's apartments felt like you were in a dream. Your body's subconscious was controlling your limbs, pulling and contracting the muscles to work as you climbed stairs, crossed underneath red rock archways, and stood before the drawbridge of Maegor's Holdfast—the only entrance into the royal apartments.

You stole a glimpse at the twins escorting you, Aegon in the middle of them both. They seemed to have aged at the same rate, with no grey in either of their chocolate-colored hairs. Erryk, you had found out was the Prince's sworn protector since birth, and it had you speculating just how old they were.

You realized it would be necessary to decipher which twin was who, judging by how many people believed they were talking to one when speaking to the other as you walked past guards. It would likely gain the favor of both of them, and you needed all the allies you could gather in a den of vipers. Besides, you supposed they preferred to be called by the correct name.

Thinking back to the night's earlier events, you believed Daemon would be proud of you. How you fought, schemed, and plotted before you even met Queen Alicent. Seeing Ma for sentimental reasons was not your only purpose for being there. You remembered in letters past how she mentioned her network of spies went further than that of the notorious White Worm, Mysaria, and you intended to use that to your full advantage.

You knew that Madam would help you even if you had not offered a substantial flow of Gold Dragons for the rest of her life. Her anger and resentment for what the Hand and the Queen did to Lyra and one of her spies, Sara, was enough incentive along with her love.

"Open the bridge," Ser Erryk shouted, interrupting your thought. "We are on orders to escort His Grace Prince Aegon to the Queen."

The drawbridge lowered with a screeching of its metal hinges, creating a path over the moat of iron spikes that separated you from the Holdfast. Another member of the Kingsguard appeared, his white cape flowing behind him as he walked over the stalwart oak, his short dark hair blending into the night.

"I trust you brought him well, Princess," he spoke, tilting his head at the sulking Aegon and disregarding the brothers.

"Ser Criston Cole, I presume," you shot back, walking between the three men you were with. You could feel their eyes on you, but you held firm, clasping your hands behind you. "I have brought the princeling unharmed, a feat that has proven..." You stopped before him, lowering your voice as your boots scuffed the bridge, "toilsome for you. Or so I have heard."

He chuckled, briefly looking into the sconces on the stone walls, the fire reflecting in his dark irises. "I believe we can forgo the general pleasantries, Princess. I will escort you to Her Majesty once Prince Aegon is safe within his chambers."

"No. I will take him myself," you declared, leaning closer. You needed to present him yourself. Your plan hung on the dramatic appearance of Aegon, for you were afraid without it, Queen Alicent would not listen. "Given your history," you jabbed, covering the oddness of your demand.

As a smirk formed on your lips, Criston swore he saw a flash of Daemon in the darkness. The same arrogant smile he knocked off a horse and bested with his beloved flail, Morning Star. He did not want to repeat the same things he thought about your father about you. No matter your lineage, you were still a daughter of the Mother and a picture of the Maiden.

"I understand," he said, something simmering beneath his bronze skin you couldn't quite name as he motioned for the waiting siblings to bring Aegon forward.

Erryk took Aegon's arm rougher than you would have thought of someone's protector, the Prince wincing as he practically dragged him. You hoped you had hidden your displeasure at his actions as he walked past, trailing behind them.

The trip was short from there, following the Kingsguard to Alicent's apartments as the two brothers departed with a bow. You looked at Ser Criston expectantly, waiting for him to open the chamber doors.

"Please, afford Her Grace some patience. She had hoped this would be in the morn rather than at the hour of the wolf," he answered your unasked question.

You acknowledged him with a curt nod, leaning against the stone wall next to the door frame, at ease for just a moment knowing there was someone else to watch the runaway prince.

A flicker of movement caught your eye, a pristine eggshell-colored cloth extended near your face. You glanced at Ser Criston with a raised brow as he moved his hand to swipe across your jaw. You had forgotten of the blood splattered onto your skin. The remnants of how far you would go to protect Aegon, what sacrifices you were willing to make for your family.

Despite your picking, you knew Ser Cole was a fine warrior, his skills unmatched with Morning Star. You could not tolerate how he was rumored to speak about your brothers as you quickly snatched the handkerchief from his hand, cleaning your skin.

You could barely stay awake and were sure you appeared like it as you relaxed. Your eyelids slowly closed before you would snap them open again, swiftly looking around to make sure no one saw. You wanted to give Queen Alicent the courtesy of waiting. It would only be proper, as Ser Cole mentioned, but you couldn't help how your knees gradually weakened, sliding down onto the floor as you rested your head against the stone wall.

Aegon watched you fight with sleep as everyone waited for his Mother to ready herself, ever the one to keep appearances. He saw the delicate features of the girl he once knew as your body finally gave in to rest, your lashes fluttering.

He believed today was a day of old memories, seeing you in the flesh again and recalling how you looked with your cheek squished against his sweaty chest so long ago.

Had you thought of him while you were tucked away at Dragonstone? He thought of you every day. You were the only person in his life that had shown him what it was to be cherished. What it felt like to have someone enjoy his presence without any enticement. You were his only true friend, and after years without contact, he was frightened that brief friendship had slipped away.

Aegon knew you were still there and that this current persona was angry and resentful for what happened with Sara and Lyra. He saw it when you placed his grimy hands on your face, your eyes a window, showing him how much you still cared. He saw it in how you carried him while drunk, whispering words of encouragement to keep moving into the night air.

Since then, Aegon had been watching you, gradually comprehending throughout the eventide how much you had changed. Your hair had gotten longer, your ebony tresses nearly at your waist, even when braided. Your maids had woven the white streak throughout the intricate designs on your scalp. He had forgotten how divinely that birthmark contrasted the rest of your strands, a single patch of snow glimmering in the moonlight.

Throughout his observations of you, he concluded that even though you had a scowl when you saw him, your lips in a thin line of disapproval when you looked at him, you had not changed. Not really. The darling little girl he met in an alleyway at Flea Bottom was still there, hidden deep within you to protect yourself from the horrors of the past, present, and future.

He did not care how his Mother invariably said your plain-looking features matched those of your adopted siblings. How insulting it was for the House of Dragon to become a House of Bastards, she would reiterate over dinner, noticeably when the King was not there.

Aegon did not care much about what his Mother said about you and your siblings. He had no concern for propriety and appearances; in his opinion, it was all too priggish. He did not understand why she concerned herself with Rhaenyra's children. The oldest of the Strong boys still had a claim to the Iron Throne through his mother. You all still had Targaryen blood within you despite what she made it seem.

You were not sure how long it had been when a servant opened the door. It was enough for you to doze off and wake up as you saw Aegon above. It startled you, not expecting to see his violet eyes so close, but the feeling that rose as he looked at you made your heart skip a beat. They appeared sad and empathetic as they stared down.

You frowned, pushing yourself up as you smoothed your messy hair, annoyed with his proximity as he followed behind. It was as if he was your shadow as soon as you entered the Queen's meeting room, being uncharacteristically silent when he saw his Mother. Ser Criston announced you both, trying to make the informal situation formal. She sent him away with a grateful nod, leaving the room silently with just you and her son.

Aegon continued to hide behind you, his shoulders slumping and chin tucked into his chest as you turned. You wanted to reach out and extend a comforting hand but thought better, your fingers fidgeting at your sides.

He did not deserve sympathy.

"Princess," Queen Alicent broke the silence, "Thank you for returning my son to me. You have proven fit for tasks even the best men of the Kingsguard could not accomplish."

You extended a polite smile, curtsying as you thanked her as well. "Thank you, my Queen for confiding in me about your worries. It is an honor to aid the Crown in any way I can," you spoke.

"I see," she said, her lips pursed and her hands clasped as she peered around your body. "Aegon, my son, please let your dear Mother see you. I have been sick with worriment in your absence."

Aegon peeked from behind your body, looking like a scared child rather than a man of ten and nine, soon to be twenty.

"You missed me?" he asked, his voice small and soft like in his youth. She smiled, opening her arms to him as he reluctantly approached.

You watched the exchange with apprehension; your brows creased as she whispered to him words you could not hear. Aegon took a breath to say some, but before he could speak, the Queen's hand came down, smacking him across the cheek.

You stifled a gasp, covering your mouth with your palm as the urge to yank Aegon away caused you to take a step. Alicent was furious, as any parent would be, if their child had run away for such immature reasons, scolding him with trembling lips.

"Have you no conscience for your actions? You shame us deeply every hour of the day and night and know this, yet you continue to do so," she shouted, her cheeks tinting pink in anger. "I could not find you for a week! I am your Mother. How do you think this makes me feel? Not knowing where you went or what might have happened to you." You wanted to insert yourself into the conversation, to act as a buffer between Mother and Son but did not want to make things worse for Aegon.

"I had to request the help of this," Alicent paused, glancing at you before her voice lowered, "bastard in order to find you. Do you not know the embarrassment that brings me? To ask-"

Before you could think of being insulted by her words, Aegon's hunched form stood to his full height, looking down at his Mother.

"Do not call her that," Aegon snapped, speaking as a man. "She saved my life! Killed three men who had the intent to rob and beat me!" Alicent released a quiet breath of air, her features softening at the mention of her son's life in danger. "The Princess cared for me with a kindness no one has extended before. She is honorable and undeserving of the insults you spout when father is not around. She is royal not only in name but in blood. The same cannot be said for you, Mother." He spat her name out like sour candy on his tongue, his anger palpable.

You were overcome with guilt at his words. You were anything but kind after you found him. Berating Aegon with a variety of scurrilousness based on your outrage for acts he had no part in. You hated him simply because he was the kin of murderers, a show you had associated him with even though he had no role in it.

You could see the Queen becoming outraged at what he said, looking like she would strike her son again as you moved, making space between her and Aegon before she could try. He did not warrant abuse in his defense of you.

"Her Grace is not wrong, Prince Aegon," you interjected, easing the tension between the two. "I am a bastard by birth."

"The King has legitimized you; therefore, you are a princess, undeserving of her bad-mouthing," he sneered at the Queen, a petulant imp talking bad to their parent.

Your eyes grew wide as you stared at him, stunned into silence at his steadfast protection of your honor. You realized then how wrong you had been in your thinking. It wasn't right for you to blame the by-product of the people you hated. They had nothing to do with Aunt Lyra other than they were their kin.

Why had you been so callous? He did not warrant it, no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself. Aegon did not deserve any of the harsh whispers people spoke. Unquestionably, he was a drunken whore of a man, uncaring of traditions and customs that he was expected to abide by, but there was more to him than the gossip. If only people had given him the opportunity. It should not have surprised those around him that Aegon became what everyone believed him to be.

"Yes, my Prince." You looked to the Queen, her features covered in shame at how she had lost her temper before you. "The King legitimized me, but it does not negate the origin of my birth. It no longer upsets me when people use it in degradation."

Aegon moved away from you and Alicent, slightly stumbling as he recoiled into himself, tear tracks on his cheeks. You wanted to embrace him, whisper in his ear how much his words truly moved you, how such a sweet boy he was, but you didn't.

"Thank you, Prince Aegon, for defending my honor so valiantly. Your actions are not something I will soon forget," you said instead, bowing your head gratefully.

Aegon did not like this side of you. It was so cold and impersonal, fitting into the shell courtly manner dictated you to be. You turned to the Queen, your expression hardening into one used when speaking to Lords and Envoys.

"Queen Alicent and I have much to discuss, my Prince," you said, looking at him with a doe-eyed expression, hoping to cater to his permissive side.

"And I am sure you are tired from your long journey back to the Keep. We will reconvene in the following days when you and I are both well-rested. After all, your name day is coming soon, and I should hope to see you at the events."

It was an intelligent way to revisit your original purpose as you saw the protests die on his peony-colored lips.

Aegon cast you one last glance of his purple glassy eyes as he left, reminding you of how your Mother's looked when you left Dragonstone. If you fell for every sad puppy look thrown your way, Luke would indeed be attached to your hip at this very moment.

The Queen stared at you in silence once he was gone, her neck so stiff and straight in the simple green gown she wore, wavy hair falling past her arms. You waited for her to speak, etiquette lessons coming to your mind.

"Please, sit, Princess. I am sure the day has been extended for you," she said, gesturing to the high-backed armchairs near her.

You instinctually wanted to protest your pride, wanting to show her it was no trouble for you, but you could not deny the ache in your feet, the pang of lower back pain that was emerging, and decided to accept.

"Words cannot convey how grateful I am for what you have done," she started, picking at her red cuticles. "I realize he can be such a difficult child, and I want you to know that my words were honest when I said your efforts will be rewarded. I will give you whatever you desire. A place at court, land, and titles to your name, gold, garnering a match more impressive than your status lets you," she trailed on. "Anything you want, Princess, name it, and it will be yours."

You already knew what you wanted. You didn't need to think. Money and matches and titles were not something you cared about. You would become a penniless spinster if it meant Rhaenyra and her true-blooded children ascended their thrones. What you sought was for them.

"The only thing I desire, my Queen," you paused, taking Alicent's attentive expression. Oh, how you would reveal in her misery once you finished. "Is a seat on the Small Council."

You watched her features fall, her once slightly upturned lips now in a deep frown as she processed your answer. Clearly, it was not something she anticipated.

"As a consequence of my Mother's years residing at Dragonstone, their has been a lack of her presence—one unbefitting for the heir to the Iron Throne. I will take her seat that has remained vacant for so long."

"Princess," the Queen stuttered, glancing at her red fingers, "your Mother's presence is already there with us in the form of the Hand. He only makes decisions with the King's and The Heir's opinions in mind."

"It must be exhausting, having to cater to two people's thoughts," you said with a front of sympathy, though you knew the truth of the matter. "Let me take the burden off his shoulders."

"A duty in which he follows deligently," she interrupted, defending her crooked father.

"Lord Hightower does have a commitment to the Crown." You did not have to say it outright for her to know why. "That is something which I have no doubt, but the lack of her royal presence is something people have taken note of," you replied, dancing around the valid reason for why you wanted on the Council, but she already knew.

"I must admit," she paused, taking a breath, "my confusion on the matter. I do not understand why Princess Rhaenyra needs someone in her place when she already has one."

You placed your elbows on your knees, resting your head in your palms as you leaned closer. Unladylike for you to do so, but you did not care. You needed her attention.

"You have a seat at the Small Council, do you not? Whose interests are your representing when you say your father already does for both?"

Alicent could not answer, the anxiety in her wide brown eyes reflecting the candlelight as you saw her pull a thin piece of skin from her fingers.

You raised a brow at her. "It certainly cannot be your own. The Queen does not have a say in matters of the realm." You couldn't stop the giggle as you continued, "Until my mother takes the throne."

She still sat silently, staring at your improper position an demands as you grew impatient. "Your Grace, you gave me your word that I could have anything I wanted. This is what I want," you said, sitting up straighter.

"Is it?" She couldn't help but ask, the words rolling off her tongue before she realized it.

Anger began to bubble inside your stomach, your neutral expression leaving your face for a scowl.

"Yes. It is," you sneered. "Does the promise of a Queen mean nothing now?" You questioned rhetorically, forgetting your place.

She inhaled deeply before she spoke again, stopping the fiddling of her fingers. "I," she paused for what felt like the tenth time, "will see to it. I owe a debt to you, and I intend to pay it."

Alicent was beside herself with fury, bested and taken advantage of again by Rhaenyra in the form of her adopted child. It seemed as if the Princess was intent on rocking the boat, even if it was not her own. Imagine if she did that, Alicent thought. She would not have been offered a seat at the table if Alicent had. She had to work silently and delicately for that treatment while Rhaenyra demanded and received it without hesitance.

The Queen's jealousy raged within as she dismissed you, further fueled by the triumphant smile on your face.

The thought that she might do what she had done to Rhaenyra on Driftmark all those years ago crossed your mind, but you brushed it off with a quiet laugh as you left, a slight bounce in your step as Ser Criston escorted you out of Maegor's Holdfast and into the Guest Wings on the Keep.

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Thank you so much for reading! This was a turning point chapter for the main character. I'm glad she finally realized it was wrong of her to lump Aegon in with his mom and grandfather. I hope she doesn't find out anything that will change that...

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[myperfectfatdads]

Baseball Coach

Brent’s friend Steve had always been a fit guy. Brent and Steve were friends in college until they parted ways, Steve becoming more interested in baseball and Brent continuing with his studies. Eventually after college Steve signed up to be a baseball coach for a little league team and Brent moved on to an office job a few cities away.

Brent’s life took a wild change after moving and he couldn’t take it anymore and moved back to his hometown 8 year later. He was getting a little older but not to old still in his early 30s. But Steve, Brent’s best friend in college still lived in the same town and the two men wanted to meet after not seeing eachother for all these years, Brent was still looking for a new job but Steve was still a baseball coach for the same little league in there small town.

The two boys decided to meet at a restaurant just down the street from where they live. Brent must have arrived there first because he couldn’t spot Steve so he decided to get a table and wait. About ten minutes later a man walks in this man had a small prickly beard and a huge beer belly. The man checks in and starts to make his way towards Brent’s table.

“Brent my man long time not see” the fat man says.

“Im sorry but who are you?” says Brent

“It’s me Steve” says Steve

Brent was taken in awe, what happened to his fit muscular friend Steve. This wasn’t him this couldn’t be this was some old fat dad.

“You okay man?” says Steve

“Yeah i’m fine bro you just look a lot different” says Brent

“Haha yeah that’s what the baseball life does to you, on that matter of fact Brent i’ve heard you’ve been looking for a job why don’t you come and join me in being a baseball coach. It pays pretty good and we would get to spend some more time together, so what do you say?” says Steve

“Actually man this would really help me thank you” says Brent

“Nothing to it here just sign this” says Steve as he pulls out a waver to sign.

Brent grabs the waver and reads it pretty normal stuff but something at the bottom catches his eye. It states what ever happens to your body this season is permanent. Thats odd why would a waver say that. Not too worried Brent signs the waver and his new job starts on monday.

After that Brent and Steve part ways for now. On the car ride home Brent was left with so many questions. What happened to Steve’s fit body what did that thing mean at the bottom of the waver. All of Brent’s thoughts got cut off by one loud sound, “rumble” what was that Brent thinks to himself looking down he noticed it was his stomach of all things. That’s weird i’m normally never hungry especially after that big meal. Brent feels his stomach feeling his abs. Brent’s always been a fit guy keeping in shape and so was Steve but something must have changed.

Brent couldn’t take the pain of his stomach any more and pulls into a mcdonald’s drive through to get some food. He orders a big mac fries a drink and a 10 piece chicken nugget. After Brent gets his food he pulls into the driveway and rips the bag right open eating every single piece. After he’s done he takes one last sip of his soda and lets out a sigh of relief and resting his hands in his stomach which is pushed out a little farther because of all the food he just ate. Arriving at home Brent quickly ran to the kitchen and grabbed at all the sweetest food he could find. Finishing those up he went to his bedroom and plopped himself in bed.

Waking up in the morning Brent felt that it was just a little bit harder sitting up. Today was his first day of baseball practice and he couldn’t wait to start he quickly slipped on his favorite shirt. Brent struggled to put his shirt on and after he did he noticed that it felt a little bit tighter than normal. Looking in the mirror Brent always notices a little bit of subtle on his face even though he just shaved yesterday. He shrugs it aside and gets in his car to head to baseball.

Brent’s first baseball practice was a success as him and Steve as the coaches. Getting in the car Brent is starving so a quickly stops at a fast food place and picks some food this order being more then twice then what he normally gets. After getting the food Brent pills over and totally pigs out not even swallowing just shoving it down his throat. His belt feels super tight on him pushing against his belly. Brent unbuckles it letting his stomach completely push out. Brent gives it a good pat and let’s out a huge burp. Arriving at home he notices his belt is still undone and should probably be put back on but no matter how hard he tries Brent can’t seem to buckle it no matter how much he sucks in which is weird I swear this belt just fit me perfect yesterday. At that moment Brent hears a knock on his door. Going to open it there’s no one there but just a big box. Brent picks it up and brings it inside, opening it he sees that it’s full of clothes. Picking up one of the shirts he finds that it is a 3xl, damn that a big shirt Brent thinks while putting it aside. Brent looks through the whole box finding clothes that range from sizes 3xl to 12xl. But at the very bottom of the box was a scale. Curious Brent picked it up and plopped it on the group to check his weight. Damn 247 pounds just at the gym last week he was 214. I guess I do need to cut back on the cheeseburgers he thought as he gave his bloated stomach a pat. Looking at the pile of clothes on his kitchen table he might as well try one on as his other clothes were starting to feel tight.

Brent picks up a 3xl large shirt and slips it on, huh it’s a perfect fit he thinks to himself. Brent starts to head to bed as it’s starting to get late. Getting into bed Brent gives his belly a pat saying that he’ll just burn it off at the gym tomorrow. Brent wakes up in a sweat in the morning completely shirtless. Huh I swear I went to bed with a shirt, Brent sits up finding it a little harder to. Oh my god Brent thinks as he looks down to see his t-shirt ripped on his bed. Brent confused quickly gets out of bed and hopes onto the scale. The scale read 289 pounds. What the hell how is this even possible as Brent thinking how this could happen his phone goes off. His Steve asking if he wants to meet for breakfast. Brent picks up his phone and responds saying sounds great be there in 20. Steve responds with sounds great man see you there. Brent in a rush quickly grabs a 4xl bottom up shirt and heads for his car. Bottoming it up even the 4xl shirt feels a little tight but Brent just brushed it aside as he’s so hungry he can’t even think straight. Arriving at the breakfast buffet Brent sees Steve sitting at a table damn he still looked huge thought Brent. Sure Brent was a little bit bigger but no where as big as Steve had gotten.

“Hey man nice to see you can’t wait for our second day of coaching tomorrow” says Steve

“Yeah me too I really like it, well let’s get some food i’m starving” says Brent

Brent goes up looking at all the different foods all of them look so good to him. Brent can’t decide and stuffs his plate full of food. Sitting back down he sees that Steve got about the same amount as him so Brent didn’t feel as fat. The two boys stuff their faces with food, Brent not even noticing his stomach starting to expand. Brent goes up for seconds, thirds, and even fourth’s. But on his fourth plate his bottom up shirt couldn’t take it anymore it was about to blow. And as it did the bottom popped off flying like a gunshot. Brent’s face immediately turned bright red.

“Hey it’s all good bro it happens to the best of us my guy” says Steve.

Flushed with embarrassment Brent asks for the bill and quickly heads for his car. What the hell is happening to me he thinks as he squeezes himself into his car. Getting home Brent rushes to his bedroom and quickly steps on the scale. The scale reads 332 pounds. Brent had gained 44 pounds since this morning. I mean sure he ate a lot but he didn’t eat enough to gain 44 pounds. Brent walks into his bathroom but he doesn’t see himself in the reflection. He sees a man with a small prickly beard and a gut that looks like a beach ball. I mean what happened to him the pecs he worked so hard for a slowly stating to form into moobs, and a small double chin is starting to form under his chin, and his legs are starting to look like the size of tree trunks. An alarm went off on his phone it was already time for baseball. Brent quickly grabbing the closet pair of clothes and slipping them on and running out the door. He struggled to pull his shirt down his gapping gut even though the size was a 7xl. Brent swung open his car door and squeezed into his car finding it a lot harder to fit. He arrived at baseball finding it a lot harder to teach the kids from his increasing size. Brent was happy that Steve wasn’t there today as he couldn’t see him looking like this. Brent was a big mess, after baseball Brent was starving he knew he shouldn’t but he stopped at a drive through anyways he couldn’t resist. Brent almost tripled the order of what he normally got. Pulling into the parking lot Brent could barley resist the temptation. He grabbed his first of three hamburgers chomping down on it and when straight for his drink and. basket of fries after that.

While eating Brent didn’t even notice his shirt start to stretch out and roll up his belly Brent’s stomach pushes against the steering wheel as it kept expanding farther and farther.

After Brent was done he tossed all the rappers away and pulled out of the parking lot to head home. Arriving there he barely managed to push himself out of the car. He unlocked the door and walked straight to his bedroom, well his walk was more of a waddle now from the increase of weight. He walked right up to the scale and stood on it, it took a while to process but when it was done it read 397. Brent was shocked but way too tired to do anything and plopped down on his bed.

Walking up in the morning Brent found it almost impossible to sit up his gut was holding him down. This was his new life. He rolled himself out of bed finding clothes was almost impossible even the 12xl clothes felt tight on him. Brent is just going to leave it behind and head to baseball, arriving at baseball there was Steve. Brent was even starting to look a little bit bigger than Steve.

“Seems like the baseball coach body has grown into you just fine” says Steve.

“I guess you could say that, everything is just so much harder now” says Brent.

“Yeah you’ll get used to it though, what do you say ready to play some ball?” says Steve.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” says Brent.

#dad bod #weight gain #balding #beer belly #beer bloat #burping #fat belly #hairy belly #fatty

[desceros]

Hello! Hope you're having a good day. Is it OK if I ask you a question?

How is it you manage to maintain really great flow with your readers POV in your long fic? For example, you maintain really good consistency with their thoughts and how the story is meant to be perceived so nothing seems sudden or out of the blue.

Do you reread your previous chapters a lot before posting the next or is it your beta reader who tracks this for you? Thank you for your time!

hello hello!! yes of course; i love getting questions like this. as for beta readers, i’ve never been one to use them. i support the practice fully. i just don’t have the patience to wait for feedback, hahaha!

mostly, this effect is because of my writing style, mechanically speaking. my writing is like knitting. as opposed to quilt-style writers, who can take little pieces of a story and sew them together at the end, i am a knitting-style writer, and i like to start at the bottom and gradually climb to the top. i write from beginning to end, and i like things to flow from a to b to c to d with as few gaps as i can get away with while still keeping things interesting.

i used to have an internal rule that i didnt like time skips because that’s time in the character’s life that could be used to develop them. while i’ve matured out of that, i still prefer to keep skips short, and i refer back to things that happened during those skips to keep that development. (an example in symphony is how i say that leo sends you funny memes all the time. i don’t show it, i tell it; but sometimes, telling is an economical alternative and the showing isn’t necessary for Every Little Detail.)

i can count on one hand the number of times i’ve written a scene out of order. writing out of order is a really good recommendation if you’re feeling stuck on a scene (just skip it and go to the next one you don’t feel stuck on) but i’ve… never been one to take that advice, haha. my writing builds and builds on itself over the course of the story, so if i miss a step, it’s more annoying later to sew it in. i just plow through the current scene like a stubborn mule cutting through clay.

a side effect of this is that my writing has very good flow, as you say. it takes a lot longer to write this way, and i have to trudge through less interesting scenes before i get to what i Really wanna write, which can be demotivating if im not excited enough for the project as a whole, buuuut… for a reader, i personally think it’s a superior experience. and there are times when i Never get stuck on a scene, and things just flow out of my hands like water. what a magical feeling that is when it happens! that’s how you can get absurd feats like me writing euclidean line in three days.

for my longer works, eg symphony, when i sit down to write, i skim the previous chapter to recall events. then i deep-read the last scene of that chapter (eg talking with leo at the end of chap. 22) and then i’ll start writing the next chapter. this makes sure that there’s continuity from the end of the previous chapter to the beginning of the next; and then because of the aforementioned way i write knitting-style, the new chapter is cohesive internally with itself. as a result, there is one long, continuous stream of flow that could be read from beginning to end without being jarring to do so.

besides all this, it really helps to have a strong mental picture of everything. what i mean is… i know who viola-chan is. how she talks. how she thinks. how she reacts to things. i can keep her very consistent from one scene to the next because i understand her. i know the plot of the fic very well. i know where i am and where i’m going in the story. i know the world i’ve built. i can weave all of these things together organically (almost like yarn, one could say, hoho…). a lot of power the author has comes from the establishment of strong characters living in a strong world and interacting with it via a strong plot. when those three things harmonize consistently over time, it creates a solid experience for the reader that Oh. This Is A Real Person In A Real Place Doing Real Things. Yeah. and that right there is the thing i think that all authors strive to improve every day.

anyway! wow! long answer. but thank you for such a thoughtful question!!

#ask tag #writing tag

[minggukieology]

Hello, I found this old quote from jimin and I’ve seen it translated elsewhere but I was hoping to get your take on it? It’s from this article

https://n.news.naver.com/mnews/article/415/0000001635?sid=004

지민_ 중학교 3학년 때부터 춤을 춰왔고 부산��고에 수석 입학 할 만큼 소문난 춤꾼이지만 동시에 매력적인 보컬로 방탄소년단만의 색깔을 만드는 데 큰 역할을 했다. 또 ‘짐드백’(지민+샌드백)이란 별명이 생길 정도로 팀 내 서열 꼴찌가 됐는데 어쩌다 이렇게 됐나.

▲ 춤뿐 아니라 보컬에 대한 고민도 많은 편이다. 보컬적인 면에서 아직 너무 부족하다고 생각하기 때문에 스스로 만족할 수 있을 만큼 노력해서 더 좋은 노래를 들려드리고 싶다. 서열 꼴찌인 건 인정한다. 막내 정국이한테 던져지고 나서 이렇게 된 것 같다. ‘정국 맘’이라는 별명이 있는데 이제 ‘정국 장난감’이 된 것 같다.(웃음) 반항할 수 없기도 하지만 그런 장난이 싫지 않기 때문에 어쩔 수 없다.

Hi, thanks a lot for your message.

Since it's quite a bit of text I will give a translation without much of explaining around it for the parts where it just mentions Jimin's history etc and focus more on the parts which I assume were the reason you sent me the message for.

Here I will also try to make it more fun for me (and for those who are maybe interested in going more in depth too) by showing multiple ways of translating certain words or phrases, ranging from 1st option marked as ¹ - 'closest to source' translation (which I typically provide to show what was said in original word as opposed to just transforming it to be more seemless and easier to understand for an English speaker) /2nd option marked as ²- close synonym (kind of middle of the two, optional) / 3rd option marked as ³- 'looser, more flexible' translation (might not be mirroring the source text 100% but brings the essence of the word, phrase closer to the English language and its context). This is just to show translations can vary depending on stylistic choice and preference. Naturally, this doesn't always apply though and there's many further nuances that can be discussed etc.

Note: if you wish to skip the (admittedly long) explanation and my weird number exercise, scroll to the bottom for clean translation.

지민_ 중학교 3학년 때부터 춤을 춰왔고 부산예고에 수석 입학 할 만큼 소문난 춤꾼이지만 동시에 매력적인 보컬로 방탄소년단만의 색깔을 만드는 데 큰 역할을 했다.

또 ‘짐드백’(지민+샌드백)이란 별명이 생길 정도로 팀 내 서열 꼴찌가 됐는데 어쩌다 이렇게 됐나.

"Jimin- You've been dancing since the third grade of middle school and were such a notorious dancer to the point that you got accepted to Busan Arts High School as the top student (*수석 입학), but at the same time, you also played a big role in creating BTS' own specific colors with your ¹attractive / ²appealing vocals.

Though on top of that, you came in ¹last position in the team ranking / ³were last in the team pecking order to such an extent that you ³earned yourself a nickname ¹'jim-deubaek' / ²'jim-dbag' / ³'jim-punchbag' (Jimin + ¹sandbag / ³punching bag), ¹how did it happen / ³how come / ³how did this come about?"

(*note: here of course the tone is playful and the meaning obviously isn't referring to any harmful violence, the question is posed in a way that it implies Jimin is both the top (skills, influence wise) and then finds himself at the bottom when it comes to certain power hierarchy in the group, like when they joke around together (even physically), to the point that not even the youngest regards him as a 'hyung' and rather plays around with him, which Jimin then refers to in the response accordingly)

춤뿐 아니라 보컬에 대한 고민도 많은 편이다. 보컬적인 면에서 아직 너무 부족하다고 생각하기 때문에 스스로 만족할 수 있을 만큼 노력해서 더 좋은 노래를 들려드리고 싶다.

서열 꼴찌인 건 인정한다. 막내 정국이한테 던져지고 나서 이렇게 된 것 같다. ‘정국 맘’이라는 별명이 있는데 이제 ‘정국 장난감’이 된 것 같다.(웃음) 반항할 수 없기도 하지만 그런 장난이 싫지 않기 때문에 어쩔 수 없다.

"Not only dancing, I tend to worry a lot about my vocals too. I think I am still lacking in the vocal aspect, therefore I want to try hard enough to be satisfied with myself and give you better songs.

I admit to being last in ³the pecking order. I think ¹it became/ ³I ended up like this after ¹being ¹thrown / ³tossed around by ¹the maknae Jungkook. I have the nickname ¹'Jungkook's mum' (*the word mum spelled in Korean) but now / from now on I think I am becoming ¹'Jungkook's toy' / ³'Jungkook's plaything'. (Laughter) I cannot ¹defy it / ²resist, but since I don't hate these kind of ¹antics/ ¹play / ²jokes / ²mischief, ¹there's nothing to do / ³I can't help it."

Concluding note: by giving multiple options I tried to show that there are always various ways to go about translations. Here I would say to avoid misunderstanding, it's better to try to convey the meaning of what was said with a bit more flexible translation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TLDR, clean translation:

Reporter: "(Jimin) You've been dancing since the third grade of middle school and were such a notorious dancer to the point that you got accepted to Busan Arts High School as the top student, but at the same time, you also played a big role in creating BTS' own specific colors with your attractive vocals. Though on top of that, you were last in the team pecking order to such an extent that you earned yourself a nickname 'jim-punchbag' (Jimin +punching bag), how did this come about?"

JM: "Not only dancing, I tend to worry a lot about my vocals too. I think I am still lacking in the vocal aspect, therefore I want to try hard enough to be satisfied with myself and give you better songs. I admit to being last in the pecking order. I think I ended up like this after being tossed around by the maknae Jungkook. I have the nickname 'Jungkook's mum' but now I think I am becoming 'Jungkook's plaything'. (Laughter) I cannot defy it, but since I don't hate these kind of antics, there's nothing to do about it."

(exerpt from 그 여름, 우리가 사랑한 방탄소년단, published 27.07.2016 by atstar1)

#ask #translations #jikook #민꾸기 #the language nerd in me just jumped out here #sorry for the confusing numbering system

[bekkathyst]

Hey everyone - we could use a little help, but this is more of a personal thing so I’m going to put it under a read more so if you’re not interested, no worries just scroll on 🙏

Some of you may know that when we moved to Austria we couldn’t immediately bring our cats with us right away, and they’ve been under the care of a friend of mine until we found a house we could have cats in. We actually just found a house for rent that we’ll be moving into in July and we will finally have our kitties back (that was my happy news I was going to share soon) but… something really unfortunate happened about 2 days ago. One of our cats got suddenly very sick. My friend has taken him from vet to vet to try to get a diagnosis, but so far nothing is clear. This is my problem: I hold USD in my PayPal to pay for inventory and to send to my friend for cat costs. However, I just placed a massive order for the new spring inventory which nearly cleared out my PayPal. All the vet bills so far have used up the rest of my PayPal balance. It’s going to take several days for me to transfer Euro from my personal bank account to my PayPal account to be able to send to my friend and he has another vet appointment tomorrow.

So basically, if anyone was considering placing an order from the spring cleaning sale and wanted to help out, the way you can do that is checkout with PayPal using USD. Any sale (aside from the shipping costs) will go straight to my friend so Tiger can go back to the vet and we can hopefully get to the bottom of this.

This is just the worst timing imaginable - if this had happened a couple weeks ago this wouldn’t have been such an issue 😢 I just feel horrible for my boy and I wish so much I was there with him, but I want to make sure I do everything I can from afar as quickly as possible. He isn’t able to eat and they think he has some kind of obstruction but the radiologist will be able to confirm tomorrow.

I hate to ask anything of you folks, so please know that this is just a post for those who were already considering buying something: if you want to help, the way you can is by paying specifically with PayPal if possible so I can right away send money to my friend taking care of my cats. I hope this makes sense, it’s a sucky and complicated situation.

TLDR; if you want to help us out and we’re planning on placing an order with our spring cleaning sale, it would be awesome if you paid with PayPal. 💜

This is the post with all the info on how to order from this sale.

Thank you so much. I hate to make this type of post, and I really hope this doesn’t upset anyone. 🙏

#original

[merymoonbeam]

I had to give me up - Elain Prison Theory

Firstly thanks to @lesolehabitantdelalune and @offtorivendell because without them I wouldn't have catch this.

Okay...so we all know Amren came from another universe and had a different form. Old fae feared her because they thought she was like their old masters.

Rhys shook his head. “Only vaguely now. From what I’ve gleaned, she arrived during those years before Fionn and Gwydion rose, and went into the Prison during the Age of Legends—the time when this land was full of heroic figures who were keen to hunt down the last members of their former masters’ race. They feared Amren, believing her one of their enemies, and threw her into the Prison. When she emerged again, she’d missed Fionn’s fall and the loss of Gwydion, and found the High Lords ruling.” (acosf)

And from Acowar we know that Amren got out of Prison because she gave up her "real" form to be fae. In here she says that to walk out of Prison she had give herself up.

Her brows narrowed. “I had to give something up. I had to give me up. To walk out, I had to become something else entirely, something the Prison would not recognize. So I—I bound myself into this body.” (acowar)

and this part she is talking about being different from her kind. she wanted.

“I lied—to cover what I’d done. So none could know. To escape the Prison, I made myself mortal. Immortal as you are, but … mortal compared to—to what I was. And what I was … I did not feel, the way you do. The way I do now. Some things—loyalty and wrath and curiosity—but not the full spectrum.” Again, that faraway look. “I was perfect, according to some. I did not regret, did not mourn—and pain … I did not experience it. And yet… yet I wound up here, because I was not quite like the others. Even as—as what I was, I was different. Too curious. Too questioning. The day the rip appeared in the sky … it was curiosity that drove me. My brothers and sisters fled. Upon the orders of our ruler, we had just laid waste to twin cities, smote them wholly into rubble on the plain, and yet they fled from that rip in the world. But I wanted to look. I wanted. I was not built or bred to feel such selfish things as want. I’d seen what happened to those of my kind who strayed, who learned to place their needs first. Who developed… feeling. But I went through the tear in the sky. And here I am.” (acowar)

It is not a full connection but Amren talks about "wanting" as something foreign to her kind. They were not supposed to feel those. And you have Elain...as mama archeron had said

"Elain is pleasant to look at but she has no ambition. She does not dream beyond her garden and pretty clothes. She will be an asset on the marriage market for us one day, if that beauty holds, but it will be our own maneuverings, Nesta, not hers, that win us an advantageous match" always a pawn in other people's hand. (acosf)

Or What Rhys had said

Rhys asked, “Have you ever seen Elain act like that before?” “No.” I chewed on my bottom lip. Rhys’s gaze tracked the movement. I mean, she’s been brave when she had to be, but she’s never been confrontational.” “Maybe she was never given the chance to be that way.” I whipped my head toward him. “You think I stifle her?” Rhys held up his hands. “Not you alone.”  He surveyed the study as he thought. “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she ’ d disappoint you all.” He sighed toward the ceiling. “ With time and safety, perhaps we ’ll  see a different side of her emerge.” “That sounds dangerously close to what Nesta said about Elain finally becoming interesting.”  “Sometimes, Nesta isn’t wrong. ” I glowered at Rhys. “You think Elain's boring?”  “I think she’s kind, and I’ll take kindness over nastiness any day. But I also think we haven’t yet seen all she has to offer.” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “Don’t forget that gardening often results in something pretty, but it involves getting one’s hands dirty along the way.” (acosf feysand bonus chapter)

and the way Elain's arc is choice...

okay back to amren scene.

“And you gave all that up to get out of the Prison?” Mor asked softly. “I yielded my grace—my perfect immortality. I knew that once I did … I would feel pain. And regret. I would want, and I would burn with it. I would … fall. But I was—the time locked away down there … I didn’t care. I had not felt the wind on my face, had not smelled the rain … I did not even remember what they felt like. I did not remember sunlight.” It was to Azriel that her attention drifted—the shadowsinger’s darkness pulling away to reveal eyes full of understanding. Locked away. (acowar)

The fact that Amren connects to Azriel with it. The way both were locked away...(Janet is sick for this.)

Now...how Amren and prison ties to Elain. We all know Elain has so many prison quotes and every sister conquer a mountain.

Feyre with UTM

Nesta with Ramiel

Elain and Prison...

so while Amren was talking her "new body" in acofas and how difficult it was to go to toilet(lol) Elain cuts in with her question.

Mor opened her mouth, laughter dancing on her face, but Elain asked, “Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form?” The question cut through the laughter, an arrow fired between us. Amren studied my sister, Elain’s cheeks red from our unfiltered talk at the table. “Yes,” she said simply. “Before, in my other form, I was neither. I simply was.” “Then why did you pick this body?” Elain asked, the faelight of the chandelier catching in the ripples of her golden-brown braid. “I was more drawn to the female form,” Amren answered simply. “I thought it was more symmetrical. It pleased me.” Mor frowned down at her own form, ogling her considerable assets. “True.” Cassian snickered. Elain asked, “And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” Amren’s eyes narrowed slightly. I straightened, glancing between them. Unusual, yes, for Elain to be so vocal, but she’d been improving. Most days, she was lucid—perhaps quiet and prone to melancholy, but aware. Elain, to my surprise, held Amren’s gaze. Amren said after a moment, “Are you asking out of curiosity for my past, or your own future?” The question left me too stunned to even reprimand Amren. The others, too. Elain’s brow furrowed before I could leap in. “What do you mean?” “There’s no going back to being human, girl,” Amren said, perhaps a tad gently. “Amren,” I warned. Elain’s face reddened further, her back straightening. But she didn’t bolt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’d never heard Elain’s voice so cold. (acofas)

Elain asks too many detailed questions. And we see that Amren takes this her wanting to go back to being human...but Elain is confused. As if it couldn't be more further from her mind. She is asking specific questions. And this takes us back to the theory...why was she asking?

From Amren's explanations about how she escaped the prison she says "I had to give me up. To walk out, I had to become something else entirely, something the Prison would not recognize." so what if...Elain will get trapped in prison and she has to give something up too? this is why she was asking? what if she saw something in a vision and was trying to see if she would had to give something up and was trying to see if she would come back from it?

Another thing is...Elain is always described as a trembling fawn. She is even in the prophecy from acomaf.

Life and death and rebirth Sun and moon and dark Rot and bloom and bones Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn. Love me, touch me, sing me. (acomaf)

there is so many theories about this prophecy but I take it as BoB was talking about Elain in that pink highlighted part...so what if fanged beast is what elain would become? Amren said in acowar "I had to give me up. To walk out, I had to become something else entirely, something the Prison would not recognize.". So what if Elain has to become Fanged beast to escape prison? And Elain asked Amren in acofas "Elain asked, “And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” what if this what she was asking... that she would turn into fanged beast.?

another thing is that... there is a parallel scene with Elain asking question to Amren with Nesta. It is just so similar. look at the same highlighted parts.

This is the Elain scene:

Mor opened her mouth, laughter dancing on her face, but Elain asked, “Could you have done it? Decided to take a male form?” The question cut through the laughter, an arrow fired between us. Amren studied my sister, Elain’s cheeks red from our unfiltered talk at the table. “Yes,” she said simply. “Before, in my other form, I was neither. I simply was.” “Then why did you pick this body?” Elain asked, the faelight of the chandelier catching in the ripples of her golden-brown braid. “I was more drawn to the female form,” Amren answered simply. “I thought it was more symmetrical. It pleased me.” Mor frowned down at her own form, ogling her considerable assets. “True.” Cassian snickered. Elain asked, “And once you were in this body, you couldn’t change?” Amren’s eyes narrowed slightly. I straightened, glancing between them. Unusual, yes, for Elain to be so vocal, but she’d been improving. Most days, she was lucid—perhaps quiet and prone to melancholy, but aware. Elain, to my surprise, held Amren’s gaze. Amren said after a moment, “Are you asking out of curiosity for my past, or your own future?” The question left me too stunned to even reprimand Amren. The others, too. Elain’s brow furrowed before I could leap in. “What do you mean?” “There’s no going back to being human, girl,” Amren said, perhaps a tad gently. “Amren,” I warned. Elain’s face reddened further, her back straightening. But she didn’t bolt. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’d never heard Elain’s voice so cold. (acofas)

and this is the nesta scene:

Nesta only said, “Why do your eyes glow?” Little curiosity—just a blunt need for explanation. And no fear. None. Amren angled her head. “You know, none of these busybodies have ever asked me that.” Those busybodies were trying not to look too concerned. As was I. Nesta only waited. Amren sighed, her dark bob swaying. “They glow because it was the one part of me the containment spell could not quite get right. The one glimpse into what lurks beneath.” “And what is beneath?” None of the others spoke. Or even moved. Lucien, still by the window, had turned the color of fresh paper. Amren traced a finger along the rim of her goblet, her red-tinted nail gleaming as bright as the blood inside. “They never dared ask me that, either.” “Why.” “Because it is not polite to ask—and they are afraid.” Amren held Nesta’s stare, and my sister did not balk. Did not flinch. “We are the same, you and I,” Amren said. I wasn’t sure I was breathing. Through the bond, I wasn’t sure Rhys was, either. “Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones …” Amren’s remarkable eyes narrowed. “But … I see the kernel, girl.” Amren nodded, more to herself than anyone. “You did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not, fit. And then the path changed.” A little nod. “I know—what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was.” Nesta had mastered the Fae’s preternatural stillness far more quickly than I had. And she sat there for a few heartbeats, simply staring at the strange, delicate female across from her, weighing the words, the power that radiated from Amren … And then Nesta merely said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Amren’s red lips parted in a wide, serpentine smile. “When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds.” (acowar)

both asking amren a question

Amren talks about them and compares to what she thinks is true

at the end "I don't know what you're talking about"

Like Amren predicted Nesta erupted at the end of acosf and it was felt across worlds but the difference is Amren thinks that Elain wants to be human again. She is wrong...Rhys' words come in this time too. " “Maybe she was never given the chance to be that way.” I whipped my head toward him. “You think I stifle her?” Rhys held up his hands. “Not you alone.”  He surveyed the study as he thought. “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she ’ d disappoint you all.” "

Everyone keeps assuming about Elain but...nobody knows the real her.

So...Elain is getting trapped in prison. HOW FUN!!!!!!

thanks for reading.

#elain archeron #I'm scared for my flower girl #this post was on my mind since november so here you go. #prison theory #amren #is it considered crack theory if it is connected to quotes? who knows.... #anywaysss. #elriel

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Second part of a two page letter written by Charlotte Robespierre on March 14 1795 to the Committee of General Security.

Paris, 24 ventôse III To the citizen representatives composing the Committee of General Security The fate that for a long time has been pursuing me appears to in this moment have made a new attempt to maximize my misfortune. The contagion of woe has spread to that which surrounds me and those who have shown me some interest are close to becoming its victims. One has assured me that citizen Mathon, commissioner of transports, has been denounced as having been a friend of my brothers,* and I have no doubt that, whatever the pretext of this denunciation, I am the real cause of it for having accepted an asylum at his house since a few months back. […] I should trust in your wisdom not to believe that you could ever accept a denunciation without the proof of the facts being obvious. But alas, calumny is so active, so ingenious in forging its appearances; innocence has been its victim so many times and I am so unhappy that I must suspect even the most unnatural of events.  I will not undertake the apology of Citizen Mathon. I will only tell you that, forced to leave my brothers, unjustly irritated against me, he had the courage to offer me an asylum with him in spite of their protests. He did not incite me into accepting it. I went to live with him when my misfortunes became greater and made me too burdensome to those who had first taken me in.  If I hadn't lost all my means of existence, I would never have exposed anyone and preferred to die rather than associate my friends with my disgrace. This is now what redoubles the horror of my situation. It is to get rid of this idea which overwhelms me that I conjure you citizens, in the name of humanity and justice, not to tolerate that those who have lavished on me the generous care of friendship are for that exposed to an unjust proscription. Seek further information on citizen Mathon and you will only find the purest patriotism and the virtues of a good man in his entire conduct.  Salut, fratérnité,  Robespierre.

*According to the article Charlotte Robespierre et ses amis (1961), ”Mathon had indeed been the object of a precise denunciation from a certain Godard, residing at 20 Rue de la Vielle Draperie, on 10 Thermidor, accusing him of having “accompanied this rascal of the great Lacroix on a mission to Brussels” as one of seven wagon administrators and to have been appointed to this position thanks to his childhood friend “Robespierre the older.” He also appears for transport and courier services on a list of patriots written by Robespierre and piublished by Courtois.” According to the same source, at the bottom of Charlotte’s letter is written: ”The Committee of General Security orders that she should be left alone, as should citizen Mathon with whom she is staying, who is known by several members” in the hand of Armand Joseph Guffroy.

#charlotte robespierre #robespierre #cute that the guy charlotte moved in and spent the rest of her life with was max’s childhood friend #maybe he reminded her of simpler times #I wish we knew more about him and his daughter anyway #armand joseph guffroy #charlotte the ultra loyal sister…

[lily-174]

someone who loves you wouldn’t do this - kevin atwater x reader

overview: someone from your past comes back..

trigger warning: mentions of abuse, toxic past relationship, miscarriage stalking, angst, fluff. big trigger warning guys for domestic violence.

might be mistakes ive broken my phone <3

chicago pd masterlist

**

you sat at your desk in the bullpen opposite Antonio’s desk, kev was out with the rest of the team just you and dawson in the bullpen. everything’s as silent as you both searched for information on the newest suspect when trudy came upstairs.

“y/l/n there’s a guy downstairs asking for you” you looked up from your computer looking at your sergeant in confusion. maybe your best friend gallo? trudy knows him so surely not.

“thanks sarge” you got up Antonio shooting you a look as you turned to walk down the stairs, you were trying to figure out who could possibly be here when you saw him. anger flooded through your body as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

greg. your ex. the man who ruined you. the man who made it so difficult for you to accept kevin’s love. you grabbed his arm pulling him into an empty room.

“what the hell are you doing here?!” you questioned the words coming off your tongue seemed laced with poison. you couldn’t believe he showed up to your workplace. how did he even know you worked here.

“i missed you, i wanna talk” you shook your head with a shocked smile on your face, you couldn’t believe it.

“i haven’t seen you in years. don’t you think me ending up in hospital with a fractured skull then leaving new york wasnt a good enough ‘i never wanna see you again’ how did you even find out i was here? that i work here?!” the anger inside you was rising you were a completely different person then you were 4 years ago when you left him. antonio had helped you learn to box. you could knock greg out, get him on the floor so easily.

“finding out you where in chicago wasn’t difficult.. you grew up here. i saw you on the news with intelligence when there were bombs at the hospital. i just wanna talk okay. i’ve changed. i didn’t mean to hurt you. i’m clean!” he reasoned taking a step closer to you, and you shook your head.

“ take one step closer and ill put you in cuffs” the expression on his face changed at your words.

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“oh but i would. my partner is right upstairs. i’m sure he’d be willing to throw you in the cage. so back up” you scoffed, no way would he get physical in a police station. in the bottom of your mind you were glad kevin wasn’t here. he did not need to know about this. you’d never told him about greg, and he didn’t need to find out now.

greg shook his head, “this isn’t over”

“get the fuck out of my district.” you shook your head leaving the room and heading for the stairs. he angrily followed you grabbing your wrist to stop you from moving any further. all the memories suddenly came back. the fear you felt in those moments.

“”everything alright here y/l/n” a familiar voice spoke, you turned your head seeing jay stood next to you. he was clearly heading back to intelligence. greg looked up at jay, seeing jays intimidating look on his face with his gun clearly visible on his waist band and greg let go.

“everything’s fine. he was just leaving.” you spoke as greg turned and began walking away, you’d noticed the anger on his face as he looked back at you before leaving. jay looked down at you with concern.

“whos that?” he asked and you shook your head continuing to walk up the stairs.

“no one”

a while later your shift had ended, you and kev made your way home to your shared apartment, when you got home you noticed him. greg parked opposite your apartment.

you tried to keep cool and not mention it to kevin as you made your way inside. you fiddled with the key in the lock as you opened your apartment door.

“should we order in tonight baby? it’s late and i have no interest in cooking anything up” kev smiled putting his keys on the kitchen counter.

“definitely ain’t no way i’m cooking” you laughed grabbing a wine glass from the cupboard then opening the fridge to retrieve the wine.

“you want a beer?” you asked your handsome boyfriend, he obviously agreed having gone to the bedroom to change into something more comfortable.

“go get comfy, i’ll set up the couch and order food” he kissed your cheek when he returned to the kitchen where you were sipping your wine.

“thank you babe” you smiled and kissed him. this was the relationship you’d always wanted. kevin was amazing, he was such a gentleman. he was a great man, a great cop. he had a better moral compass then anyone you’d ever met. you felt blessed in this relationship. he’s felt the same. he’d do anything for you, help you do your hair, cook clean. even risk his own life for you.

you wandered off into your shared bedroom closing the door behind you. as you pulled the curtain back slightly so you could see outside. he was still there. you sighed, this was getting ridiculous.. you weren’t scared of greg. at least you tried not to be, but him trying to worm his way back into your life.

you knew you were safe here, you had kevin. he’d be by your side all night. and tomorrow you’d be with your whole team. nothing to worry about. greg would eventually get bored. you pulled the curtains closed and took your phone out your pocket getting up mouse’s number. you sent him a quick text.

can you do me a favour? completely off the books. no one can know. these messages need to be deleted after this conversation

sent.

you got out a pair of shorts, and one of kevs shirts and got changed. your boyfriends shirt coming down further on your legs then the shorts. you put your hair up and returned to the couch, kevin has laid out a few blankets to make it nice and cozy he’d also brought your glass of wine to the coffee table. he’d chosen a movie that was currently paused at the start as he sat waiting for you.

“you kevin atwater, are the love of my life” you smiled planting yourself next to him on the couch, as soon as his arm came around you your worries about greg completely vanished. you felt completely safe and at ease in kevin’s arms. he pressed okay on the movie and you sipped your wine.

everyone deserves someone like kev, you’d never thought you’d end up finding love like this but you had. you had no worries about other women, kevin was completely yours.

the doorbell rang and kev jumped straight up to get the pizza he’d ordered, you laid your head back resting on the back of the couch. you’d had a headache since you’d seen gregory this morning but you’d ignored it putting it down to stress.

“baby someone’s here. they wanna speak to you” you heard kevin’s voice, it wasn’t the pizza. your heart stopped as you got up, heading for the door.

“kevin ill be back in a minute okay” you smiled at him kissing his cheek the look on his face was one of confusion as you stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind you to prevent kevin from hearing anything.

“i don’t know what the fuck you think you’re doing coming to my home.” you tried not to raise your voice but you couldn’t help it. how did greg have enough courage to come to your door. especially knowing you weren’t alone. kevin could lay him out so easy.

“we are meant to be together. let me fix it okay! i won’t hurt you again” greg reasoned, god this man was insane. you wanted to punch him. so badly.

“we are not meant to be together. i have a boyfriend. and he’s better then you ever were. i suggest you leave before i get my whole team here and have them ring you neck. or better yet i do it myself.” you scoffed, your anger was really getting to much. you were thankful your gun wasn’t currently strapped to your hip.

“you listen to me you slut. i am the best you’ll ever have. don’t ever compare me to another man. you will come back to me, i don’t care what i have to do to make that happen” the aggression in his voice took you right back to the traumas he put you through.

“leave. now.”

you watched him storm off towards the elevator before heading back into your apartment you saw kev stood in the kitchen arms crossed confusion laced onto his features.

“who was that?” he asked as you walked up to him, you wrapped your arms around him and he did the same hugging you tightly.

“a prick i used to know. he’s gone now won’t be coming back don’t worry” you brushed it off before pulling away from your boyfriend.

“hey y/l” you heard your boyfriend speak as you started walking away.

“yeah?” you turned to look at him the look of confusion on his face now replaced with concern.

“you know you can tell me anything. i will always keep you safe you hear me?” you gave him a soft smile and nodded. you couldn’t put into words how much you loved him. you walked away into the bathroom checking to see if mouse had text you back. he had:

i’m not really supposed to, but where’s the fun in that. what’s up?

you read his message thankful he agreed and began typing out your response as you stood infront of the mirror in the bathroom.

find out whatever you can about gregory davidson, if he was recently released from any prisons. credit card phone records i want all of it.

sent.

he sent a quick ‘alright’ back and you took a deep breath looking in the mirror before heading back out to the kitchen where kevin was currently putting slices of pizza on plates.

“i think i’m gonna eat then head straight to bed” you said as you walked up to him wrapping your arms him, he put the final two slices of pizza on his plate before turning around and hugging you, his hands slowly moved down to your ass before lifting you up. your legs automatically hooked around his waist his hands planted on your ass holding you up.

“if somethings going on. talk to me okay? i’ll help you baby. what you said earlier, you’re the love of my life too. if something is wrong i’ll do everything i can to help you.” he reassured, you could see how genuine his words were from the look in his eyes. you cupped his cheeks rubbing the side of his face with the pad of your thumb as he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“i’m okay kev i promise” you pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, he gently kissed you back. the kiss became deeper, but had nothing sexual behind it. the kiss was soft and gentle, full of appreciation and love.

when you pulled away kevin gently put you down, and you both ate dinner together you finished your red wine and you both spoke about your days even though you worked in the same unit, you have different outlooks on cases and do different things. you left out the worst part of your day.

“i’ll do the dishes, go get some sleep it’s late i’ll join you in a bit” kevin spoke as you put your plate and glass in the sink, you smiled thankful to have kevin, you brain couldn’t help but think back to greg. all the dishes needed to be done before you went to bed. everything needed to be done before you could eat or sleep when you were with him.

“i love you kevin” you smiled softly thanking him he smiled back as he got up from his chair he placed another soft kiss on your lips before you wondered off to the bedroom. you didn’t even bother checking if gregory was still parked across the street you just pulled the covers back and slipped into bed. you laid on the side closest to the window, facing the window you couldn’t help but think about the differences between your ex and current boyfriend.

you closed your eyes as a tear slipped down your cheek, you sighed and tried your best to fall asleep. you barely felt the bed dip beside you as kevin got into bed. you felt his arm over you as he found his position as big spoon. his arm felt like a safety blanket that allowed you to get to sleep, allowed you to forget about the memories.

kevin fell asleep not long after you, but he was awoken to you wriggling around and managing to hit his arm. he groaned tiredly as he turned to face you catching a glance at the alarm clock before turning 4:37am.

once he had turned to face you he noticed you where sweating at first he thought maybe you didn’t feel well. then he noticed the scared look on your face and the hyperventilating in your sleep.

“y/n” he questioned testing the waters to see if you were partially awake, you gave him no response just started mumbling, you sounded panicked which caused kev to sit up.

“please i’m sorry! please don’t hurt me anymore” he heard you mumble panicked, his hand gently went to your shoulders

“y/n baby. it’s me it’s kev wake up” he gently shook you, causing you to wake up. you took a deep breath and sat up in a panicked state bringing your knees to your chest and rocking back and forth whispering something kevin couldn’t make out.

“y/n?” he whispered softly, you’d not even been able to register he was there until in that moment, you fell forward into his arms, he pulled you into his lap wrapping his arms around you while you buried your head into his neck, a few tears falling from your eyes as you gripped onto your shirtless boyfriend.

“you’re safe you’re with me, i got you baby” he whispered reassuringly into your ear as he gently rubbed your back in an attempt to calm you down. you both remained like that for a while until you’d calmed yourself down.

“pretty girl you wanna talk about it” he asked as you pulled away from him slightly still sat on his lap, you contemplated it in your head. you kinda didn’t have a choice now.. you knew he’d probably find out, but never did you think he’d find out like this. that was the first nightmare you’d had in years.

“my ex, greg. he was the guy at the door earlier.. i was with him before i moved here. i haven’t seen him since i left new york. he was- he was abusive. i left him after he put me in hospital with a fractured skull and a brain bleed. he could’ve killed me that night. so i left. i moved to chicago. i was going to have a baby with him kevin.. but neither of us knew until after he beat the shit out of me and i miscarried. he showed up at the district this morning. jay kinda got involved, nothing was gonna happen. but he grabbed my wrist. then he followed us here.. that was him at the door.” kevin’s heart broke at what he was hearing. he swallowed the bile rising in his throat. if he knew he would’ve beat the guy on spot at the door. he could feel the anger bubbling inside him, all he wanted to do was look after you. he noticed the tears in your eyes and pulled you into him again, holding you even tighter then before if even possible.

“i’m so sorry y/n, i’ve got you. i’m not going to let anyone ever hurt you again i promise you. you never deserved that, you are the most beautiful, smart amazing woman i have ever met: and i promise you baby, i will protect you. next time you see him. i’m arresting him. nothings going to happen to you, you’re with me my beautiful girl. i’ve got you forever and always” kevin whispered into your ear as you cried into his neck. everything was piecing together in his head like a puzzle, you flinching every time he moved when you first got together, how long it took you to open up to him.. all the little things he’d never pieces together.

after a while you fell asleep in kevin’s arms as he leaned against the headboard, he wouldn’t dare move and risk waking you up. so he stayed as he was holding you until morning, letting a few tears of his own drop down his face at your story, he physically hurt him to think about it.

when morning finally came around and you both got to work, you were approached by greg in the car park. kevin kept his word.

“”y/n i told you last night i’m better then him!” greg snarled looking up at kevin, oh the balls he has. kevin was easily like 6 inches taller the greg and clearly a lot more muscular.

kevin didn’t say anything just grabbed gregory’s arm twisting it round so he shrieked out in pain, and put his hands behind his back and cuffed him. kevin looked over at you with sad eyes, you hated that look you didn’t like feeling like a victim.

“y/n, go upstairs. you don’t have to deal with him anymore. he has to deal with me and the mountain of charges i’m about to shove down his throat” kev stated pulling the man towards the district.

you loved kevin. you loved him so much, no matter how much you didnt believe you deserved him, you were so thankful he was there. so thankful he’s yours.

#kevin atwater #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd #kevin atwater x reader #kevin atwater imagine #kevin atwater imagines

[bowieandqueen11]

Objection / Phoenix Wright Imagine

Request: Hi! If possible could I get Phoenix Wright getting invited to a childhood friends wedding, only for him to realize that he has feelings for his friend? Thank you!

Oooh this is an interesting request and my first one for my main man Phoenie!!! Thank you so much@miyonorii1317!

I’ve decided to make this a series so this is part one, if you enjoy please let me know and I’ll continue it! :)

(I do not own Phoenix Wright or its characters, all rights go to creators. Beautiful gif credit goes to @arkarti.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

‘Nick!! Oooohhh, did you see those flowers?? They’re so pretty - I love daffodils!!’

‘...I don’t think you’re supposed to talk during this part.’

Phoenix is too distracted to notice the innocent squabble going on from the wedding guests he’s sitting sandwiched between. Despite the fact Maya is nearly leaning over him to win the argument, the defence attorney is too busy trying to figure out why the garlands of silver flowers weaving through the wicker chairs are making him feel so gloomy inside. Why each clustering blaze of burning gold confetti that brushed over the aisle and against his dress shoe made him want to grab the fringes of his hair and pull his spikes out. Why the tide of wedding guests flowing in through the looming chamber doors, with champagne flutes and orders of service tucked underneath their arms, made his hands clench into his kneecaps and send shooting, trembling sparks through his body in its desperation to run away.

‘Says you Edgey. You’re talking too!’

He thinks he’s managed to escape having to intervene when a woman from the second row turns round, squints towards them, and raises a finger to her snarling lips. Nick has to shove his fist into his mouth to stop himself busting over in stitches when he spots Miles’ cheeks turning a matching shade of maroon to his freshly pressed suit; he slides down in his chair, eyes wild with a manic shock as he prays that the shushing woman, whom he immediately recognised as a blushed up Ms. Oldbag, is too busy mumbling crankily to herself to realise who he is. Maya flusters, crossing her arms and huffing back into her seat, only to nearly jump nearly a mile into the air a second later with a quiet ‘ah!’ when someone’s face appears from the corner of her eye.

‘Yo, Nick, do you know when this party is supposed to get started?’ Larry leans forward over Phoenix’s seat, resting his chin on his best friend’s blue lined shoulder and peering over his ear to stare at him. Although Nick tries to glance at him out of the side of his eye, Larry’s gaudy bright orange suit, fitted to boot with taffy pink stricken love hearts has him blinking rapidly and recoiling back in horror.

‘It’s a wedding, Larry, the reception hasn’t even started yet. We’ve only just sat down, it will probably be another hour at least.’ Nick bites the bottom of his lip, fervently enough to tear the skin away and send a droplet of blood dribbling down his lip; his eyes are gleaming with a waning anguish that makes even Edgeworth raise a concerned eyebrow. Thankfully Maya manages to tear him away from his thought for a moment, shoving Nick’s shoulder with an excited puff of air and turning round to beam at Larry. ‘And then we get to eat cake’, she near-shouts, clenching her fists and pummelling a yammering Nick. ‘And throw some shapes on the dancefloor!’

‘And we also get free food!’, a delighted Gumshoe chimes in from where he’s slouched back next to Larry, whose busy nodding fervently in agreement. ‘My paycheck got slashed again last week, so it sure will be nice to eat something other than instant noodles for every meal.’

To try and revive the situation (and the sour, guilty and sympathetic frowns that had fallen over the faces of his friends), Larry tries to draw everyone’s attention over to the organ music that has slowly begun to swill over the buzzing and whispering crowd. ‘Can you believe it? Our little Y/n is all grown up and getting married,’ Larry takes a break to sniffle and wipe a tear away from his eye with the edge of his pointer finger. ‘Who would have thought one of our little ‘Signal Samurai’ four-o would end up here so quickly??’

‘It’s called a quartet, Larry. And we’re all twenty eight years old. We’re hardly children.’ Miles has decided to brave sitting up in his chair again, and is now facing the ivy arched altar with a stoic expression on his face and a finger tapping his crossed arms. It turns into a flashing look of disgust when Larry decides to flop his head from Nick’s shoulder over to his instead. ‘Besides, I think that’s Y/n coming in now, so everyone quieten down.’

Phoenix feels like he’s about to burst, a biting ice shooting through his veins as if a distant childhood memory had suddenly been flung free from the recesses of his mind and left to wreak havoc. He can barely look towards you as you make your way down the aisle, the sound of Maya aawing beside him and looping her arm through his elbow turning him green in the face. The only person who seems to have it worse is Edgeworth; Larry is still leaning his head against his neck, sobbing into his pristine suit as he gently tries to both prod him off and awkwardly pat the top of his head in some form of cold, uncomfortable comfort the emotionally repressed Miles is trying his best to give. Bombarded from the other side by Gumshoe blowing his nose into a hankie right by his ear, Miles gives a withering look towards the centre of the room, as if he’s wishing he could just disappear from the situation completely.

The vows seem to rush by in a blur. Nick is too busy lost in his thoughts, eyes glazed over and body busy holding a leaning Maya up to even really notice what’s going on; he just can’t stop thinking about his childhood. About all the moments he missed. All the chances he had. All the courage he never realised was stored away, locked down inside him and only waiting for love and friendship to let it out. Of all the times he had sat beside you in class, a sad, snivelling, dishevelled boy worried about making friends and fitting in and, most of all, trying to make you laugh. It was always the most glorious sound in the world, and he swore every time you would hide your head in your homework book and stifle a giggle, he wanted to spend his life making you so overjoyed, so that sound is all he would ever hear. He would always look forward to walking home with you, playing tag and running through the streets as if you were the only people in the world, feeling free. To be honest, he’s spent his whole life since chasing that sublimity that he had only felt with you; the thoughts of what would have happened if you hadn’t moved overseas plaguing his dreams every night, the thought of what would have happened if he had been brave enough to send you just one more letter haunting his every decision.

Maya lifts her head in confusion as tears began to leak from the corners of Feenie’s eyes. She looked at him, and then to you, and then whipped back to Nick, the cogs beginning to stir in her mind. She squinted, ‘hmm’ing quietly to herself at the way the quivering attorney beside her was dumbfoundedly gazing at you with dewy eyes, as if you were a blanket of fresh snow coating over the cresting coppery dawn of a new day. 

‘If anyone has any objections, speak now or forever hold your peace.’

He doesn’t know what comes over him. One second he’s slack jawed, leaning over his elbows quizzically, and the next he’s standing up beside an aghast Edgeworth. ‘Objection! I object uh - your honour.’ He rubs the back of his head, stuttering bashfully over his words as he feels the weight of every pair of angry and bewildered eyes flash towards him. Maya grabs his arm and tries to tug him back down onto the chair, Larry doing his best to fist the back of his jacket and make him fall back down as well, but Nick is stock still. Whether it’s determination, or the look on your face when you turn to look at your beetroot red best friend, he doesn’t know. But he does know one thing: Phoenix Wright isn’t going to leave this courthouse until his truth comes out.

‘I- I object. Because... well... because I-I love you! I always have Y/n! I’m in love with you, and I always will be!’

#phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #ace attorney #phoenix wright imagine #phoenix wright x reader #ace attorney imagine #phoenix wright fluff #phoenix wright angst #ace attorney fanfic #ace attorney fanfiction #miles edgeworth imagine #maya fey #maya fey imagine #larry butz #larry butz imagine