#i can make my life so much easier. i can live deliciously
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This scene for Gale triggered for me in the funniest place possible
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 gale#gale bg3#bg3 tav#astarion bg3#shadowheart bg3#GHAUGH THE TAGS. TOO MANY. but alas.#kunst huli#aino bg3 oc#i wanted to fully color this at first but then i was like. wait. wait a moment.#i can make my life so much easier. i can live deliciously#but for real gale pls we COULD have at LEAST moved to the side#also formal apology for making posts long with my pic placement but it just looked the best in this way.....#and i CANNOT be assed to size my panels pre-upload so nothing is cut off weirdly. sorry#also i drew everyone but gale in their jammies bcs i cant be assed to draw armor. sorry again
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SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE āā FA14.
being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.
( fernando alonso x wife!reader )
āā one shot.
When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.
āMy angioletto,ā she called you, her little angel, āit doesnāt have to look pretty when itās done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.ā
Sheād lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. āIt may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? Itās even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.ā
Sheād wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.
āOne day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it wonāt matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.ā Sheād pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiledā āUntil that someone gets here, I will stand in.ā
You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.
Sheād driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, sheād slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to beā where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.
She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day sheād buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.
When you were twentyā a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didnāt seem to have any room for youā you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.
It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.
Youāre nearly thirty now, and you still donāt regret buying the bakery. Itās your home away from home nowā your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that youāve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.
But that doesnāt mean that every day is easy.
Today is one of those hard days. Valentineās Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness itās also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmotherās passing. Even though youāve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacyā her dream, which you now live for herā is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when youād just lost her.
The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakeryās speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when sheād bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.
Youād give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.
āAre you okay, Y/N?ā Beatrice asks. Sheās a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadnāt known much Italian back then, and you were the first person sheād met who could speak English, so sheād asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldnāt get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that sheād be staying for the foreseeable future.
You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesnāt come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. āJust being a bit nostalgic today,ā you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.
There are other pictures hung up with herā you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.
āMy grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?ā
Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. āI donāt think so,ā she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. āI knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You donāt really talk about her much.ā
You frown, āI guess I donāt.ā
āBut itās okay,ā Beatrice adds quickly. āI know family can be a touchy topic. If youād rather not talk about her, I understand. Iām not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.ā
The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when sheās drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. Youāve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.
Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.
āMy grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,ā you start. āDo you mind if I talk about her?ā
Your employeeā your friendā smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. āI would love it if you talked about her.
āShe used to call me her little angelā¦ā
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yourusername iāll leave a piece just for you, nonna.
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user that looks delicious!!
user itās actually my dream to visit y/nās bakery š
ā³ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing
ā³ user itās like how irl some foods donāt look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like itās the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite
user cosƬ carino!! ā¤ļøā¤ļø
user how is it possible to make food look heavenly š³
user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc thereās no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly
ā³ user FELT THIS OMG
user what a beautiful way to remember someone š«¶
user sheās gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???
ā³ user sheās really the most wag of all wags š©
ā³ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/nās introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all
ā³ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races
ā³ user sheās actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadnāt already seen that ring on her finger i wouldāve shot my shot no joke šš
ā³ user whatās alonsoās secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???
user this is gorgeous
user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope sheās watching down on you and thinking the same thing ā¤ļø
ā³ user didnāt think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig š
fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you š
ā³ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her š
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yourusername arrivederci š
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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida š
user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife
ā³ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic š
ā³ user āmy lifeā in spanish šš i literally fucking canāt when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this
ā³ user honestly i think itās just time to accept weāll be alone forever cuz if he donāt treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i donāt want him
user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, itās a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy
ā³ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL
user when will he return from the warā¦
ā³ user itās only february the season hasnāt even started yet so why isnāt he with her??
ā³ user aston martinās hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. itās the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think
ā³ user AND OVER VALENTINEāS DAY TOO??? šššš
user mama y papa
user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i donāt think thatās too much to ask for
user sheās posting like heās dead or smth š
ā³ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf š¤·āāļø
user i canāt believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who aināt even 30 yet
ā³ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? ššš
ā³ user have you SEEN y/n?? ššš
ā³ user two baddies bagged each other guys thereās not a lot to try and comprehend
Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. Heās your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about whoās in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that donāt go according to plan and Fernandoās hectic work schedule is one of them.
The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though youāre not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you canā usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while youāre still young and while Fernando is still racingā but even when youāre home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.
You wouldnāt even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot affordā for the sake of the bakeryā to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.
You honestly hadnāt given much thought that heād be missing Valentineās Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.
Itās by far the first time heāll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe itās the stress of the extra workload youāve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmotherās passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.
Alone.
As you have been for the last few weeks now.
Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. Youāve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.
Thereās always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sportās particular brand of pressure.
And youāve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.
Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husbandās teammate has been sending you and you alone, you canāt help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.
But thatās the way of things.
Youāre about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed thatās too big for oneā a bed you havenāt slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the otherā when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.
Itās late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isnāt too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He shouldāve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.
āFernando?ā
āMy love,ā he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. āI am sorry that itās so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.ā
You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise mustāve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.
āMi vida,ā he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. āWhat is wrong? Are you okay?ā
āMhm,ā you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your homeā the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moonās glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. āIām okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.ā
āI know, my love,ā he coos. āBut we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?ā
As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and youād swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.
Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and heād whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.
āBut I always need you,ā youād teased. Heād chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.
You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.
āI meant what I said,ā he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.
You hum again, āI know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. Itās a very important job, too.ā You curl the blankets around you tighter. āPay no mind to my musings, okay? Itās just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentineās Day, and I am short-staffed now.ā
āWhat has happened?ā
āWhat hasnāt?ā You joke, heaving a sigh. āRodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says heāll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasnāt yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we donāt have. On top of that, Samuelās wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her motherās birthday.ā
Fernando makes a noise of understanding. āYou are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.ā
āDonāt apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because Iām feeling so much better just hearing your voice,ā you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husbandās joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phoneās speaker.
āAnd I am better just hearing yours,ā he says. āBut I will leave you to sleep now. Itās too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.ā
āTi amo, marito mio.ā
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lance_stroll iām really only here to take pictures for his wife
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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only
yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino š«¶
ā³ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in š
astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martinās Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martinās social media admin for their job
ā³ lance_stroll thanks but i think iāll stick to driving fast cars. itās less stress.
user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE ššš
user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture š«
ā³ user real
user why is the first one so cute??
user lance is really just fernando and y/nās kid at this point, heās the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it
ā³ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??
ā³ user no????
ā³ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him
ā³ user i bet lanceās trainer hates that lmao šš
ā³ user you all are talking about them like y/n isnāt just a few years older than lance himself is š
ā³ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone
ā³ user guys?? heās literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least theyāre both well into adulthood
user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now
user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS
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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isnāt thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo š.
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yourusername i love you more mio carissimo š
ā³ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most
user adding āposts me just bc he canā to my list of standards for men
user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING
user ājust wanted a reason to post my beautiful wifeā oh my god fernando alonso the man that you areā¦ š©š©
user guys heās the blueprint
ā³ user sheās so lucky
user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????
user sheās actually so beautiful omg š³š³š³
ā³ user theyāre such a power couple
ā³ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz sheās actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at
ā³ user is there a reason she doesnāt go to many races?? they donāt have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldnāt be able to attend more š¤
ā³ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she canāt just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when sheās able to, donāt get me wrong, but itās definitely less frequently than some of the other wags
user gen imagine being fernando alonsoās wife
ā³ user i think i would cease to exist
user cuando es mi turno š
Valentineās Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing youāll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, youāve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom thatās been following you since last week.
Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. Itās helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.
He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.
He doesnāt call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and youāre disappointed.
But throwing yourself into your work is always something youāve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.
Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew itās where you would be.
āYou shouldnāt be working today,ā she says in lieu of a greeting.
You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. āWe are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that Iām not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.ā
All she does is sigh.
The morning goes well. Thereās a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughterās boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.
Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.
āGo home,ā she orders.
You huff. āBeatrice, I am the boss. Not you.ā
She raises an eyebrow.
āI am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffedāā
āRodrigoās coming in to work register ināā she checks the watch on her wrist, āāfifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and Iāll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuelās wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means heāll stop hovering over her, and Iām prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.ā
You blink at her. Thereās a reason sheās the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever youāre reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery youāre always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didnāt even notice.
āWhy do you want me to go home so badly?ā You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apronās pockets. āNothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we werenāt short-handed, I wouldāve still been here.ā
āYou sure about that?ā Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.
You donāt pretend to understand what sheās talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.
Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.
Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.
There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bearās arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.
āFernando?ā You call out to the silent house.
You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.
You peek into the bedroom, āMia vita?ā
Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you heās had this planned for a while and heās smug that heās managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.
He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.
He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.
āMi vida,ā he murmurs. āIām here, my love. Iām here.ā
āI didnāt know you were coming home,ā you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.
He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. āI wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.ā
āTi amo,ā you whisper against his skin.
āTe amo,ā he whispers into your hair.
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yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself š
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fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself š
ā³ yourusername ti amo mia vita
user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES
ā³ user oh my days š«¢
ā³ user iām actually ill that is too cute
user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be
user WAR IS OVER
user i need them to adopt me right tf now itās not a want itās a need
user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY
ā³ user fernando alonso once again proving why heās the best husband on the grid
ā³ user iām obsessed with them a totally normal amount
lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, iām so surprised he didnāt end up ruining the secret somehow
ā³ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre
ā³ lance_stroll well iāve seen my āpadreā make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i donāt think faith is really gonna cut it. youāre whipped man š¤·āāļø
ā³ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man
ā³ lance_stroll you know what? i really do
āā tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206
āā a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.
#formula 1#formula one#f1#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula one x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#social media au#fernando alonso#fernando alonso x reader#fernando alonso imagine#fa14#lance stroll
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Do You Wanna Touch Me?
18+ ONLY
Summary: Part Two to Hotblooded, Reader can't help herself. She needs Dean anyway she can get him.
Warnings: Smut, Masturbation, Spice, Dirty Talk
Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader
A/N: wow. I did not expect that last one to get so much love and attention! Thank you all for being so kind! This is only my second ? time writing smut, so I hope it meets your expectations. I may keep this one going for at least one more part if you guys are interested. :) As always, comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!
do not copy and share my work anywhere, you don't have permission.
I had been trying to fall asleep for hours now, and yet here I lay, half naked and clinging to a pillow for dear life. The ingredients in my drink from earlier were still running their course through my system and had left me panting at the mere thought of Dean. Iād rid myself of my T-shirt before Sam had even left my room, heat emanating from my body at a rapid pace. Sam had awkwardly averted his gaze before locking me in and reminding me that I should feel better after I rest. And yet even hours later, I feel like Iāll die if I donāt see Dean soon, speak to him, touch himā¦
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I groan as I shift to snag my phone from the nightstand, my hips rolling deliciously against the pillow below me. Feral thoughts of the hunter a few doors down rack my brain and I quickly pull up his contact before pressing the call button. His ringtone echoes down the hall from where I assume he is in the library before he answers.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āHey, Darlinā,ā His voice alone causes my heart to race, a gasp leaving my lips, āAre you okay?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I shuffle to straddle the pillow below me as he speaks, the worry for me in his voice sending me into a frenzy, āNo. I need you.ā I practically cry into the speaker, āNeed you so bad.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He sighs deeply and I can hear papers shuffling in the background, āYou should be asleep, Sweetheart.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āCanāt sleep.ā I mumble, rolling my hips against the pillow as he speaks, āCan only think about you. I donāt think Iāll think of anything else ever again.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIām trying to find something to help make it easier for you, Iām sorry.ā He whispers, papers shuffling again, āI promise, itās got to wear off eventually.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I let out a frustrated sound, my bottom lip jutting out as I whine, āIām going to die in here! Iām going to die from needing you so bad and you wont even come in here to help me.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI canāt come help you, Baby. Itās not you thatās asking for this.ā He whispers and I can hear the frustration in his voice. One part of me is yelling for me to shut up, to hang up the phone and go to bed, try to somehow go to sleep and forget this ever happenedā¦but the other part of me is ravenous, feral for the man on the other end of the line, and she is not going to lose this battle without a fight.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āItās your job to help people, Dean.ā I cry out, a low blow I know, but the desperation coursing through my veins wonāt let up, āAre you really going to leave me here like this?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āDonāt do that.ā He growls out, āI told you before that we could talk about this when youāre not drunk off some god-level fuck juice. I want to talk about this. I do want to help you, but I wonāt go in that room.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā His take-no-shit tone goes straight to my core, which I know is the exact opposite of what heās looking for, but I canāt stop imagining the firm look on his face as he scolds me. My hips roll quicker, a ravenous feeling overtaking my thoughts, āPlease keep talking.ā I whisper as my eyes close. I hear his breathing hitch, but he doesnāt speak for a moment, and I bite my lip nervously. Did I make him upset? I donāt think I can live with myself if heās upset with me, āIām sorry, I didnāt-.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āDonāt apologize.ā He cuts me off quickly, āWhat are you doing?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Embarrassment should flood my system, but the idea of being caught getting off to his voice just spurs me on. I lift off the pillow to roll my shorts down my legs and then position myself over it again, āWhat do you think Iām doing?ā I whisper seductively into the speaker. Hoping, practically praying, that he knows and heāll throw whatever righteousness he has left out the window to come help me reach my goal. Sweat pours down my forehead and a heaviness sits in my hips, I rut against the pillow again to try and alleviate the feeling, a small moan leaving my lips as I do.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā The rough sound of his chair sliding across the library floor and his heavy boots thudding as he walks stills me. I sit with bated breath listening to the sound through the phone, waiting to hear him outside my door, āWhere are you going?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I hear him chuckle quietly before his voice finally graces my ear again, āWhere do you think Iām going?ā I hear his boots come to a stop, but no sound comes from the hallway in front of my room.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I groan in frustration, rutting against the pillow isnāt bringing the amount of relief that my body needs and the thought of Dean not being here to help me brings a sinking feeling in my stomach, āWhere are you?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā A door clicks closed on his end before he speaks, āWhat are you wearing?ā He whispers gruffly, sending a shock to my core. I stay quiet for a moment before he whispers a bit softer, āYou told me to keep talking. I wonāt come in that room with you, but I am going to help you. Now, what are you wearing?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Though he canāt see me, I nod quickly and glance down to my torso. Thankful for the black lace panty set cladding my body so I donāt have to lieā¦I donāt think I could lie to him right now, āMy underwear.ā I whisper, holding my breath while I wait for him to speak again, āItās black and lacy and I think youād really like it.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He groans quietly and I can hear him lay down on what I assume is his own bed, āIād like to see that.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āCome here and you can.ā My breathing is heavy, anticipation building throughout me as I beg him, āPlease.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āPlease? You gonna beg me, Sweetheart?ā He whispers lowly, the teasing tone spurs me on and I roll my hips against the pillow again, moaning louder as I do. I hear him suck in a breath before he continues, āTell me what you want me to do to you.ā
āTouch me. Please, touch me.ā I cry out, āI need you all over me.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He chuckles darkly, āI canāt right now, can I? But, you can.ā
Ā At his words my hips stutter, I glance down at the pillow as I slide back toward my headboard, āYou want me toā¦ā
āTouch yourself, Baby. Where do you want my hands?ā His voice is low as he instructs me and I dust the hand not holding my phone across my chest as I listen to his breathing, āWhere do you want me to touch you?ā
Ā āEverywhere. My chest, my legs, myā¦.ā I gasp as my fingertips rub over my clothed nipples; eyes still closed, I imagine his fingers being the ones ghosting across my frame.
I can practically hear the smile on his face when he speaks again, his voice quiet and heavy, āYeah, I wanna touch you there, too. I canāt stop thinking about the things I want to do to you.ā
āWhat else do you want to do to me?ā I whisper, my hands making their way down my body at a slow pace. I play with the hem of my panties, imagining itās his thick fingers there teasing me as he speaks slowly into my ear.
āI wanna spend all day between your legs, Baby. Wanna fuck you so good, you forget your name.ā He whispers huskily, his breathing is heavier and I almost cum at the thought that he must be touching himself, too. I slide my hand into my panties and moan breathlessly at the feeling of relief that rushes my system. I circle my fingers around my opening, brushing my fingertips over the bud at the apex every so often
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYou drive me crazy,ā I groan, throwing my head back against the headboard as I picture his face between my thighs and all the filthy noises he would be making while he eats me, āI need more. You make me so wet.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He curses into the speaker and I can hear his breathing quicken, āTake off your clothes.ā The harshness in his voice causes my eyes to snap open and rushes me to strip bare faster than I ever have. I remain quiet as I lay alone, listening to his rapid breathing on the other end of the line, āYou want me to fuck you, Baby?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I nod dumbly before realizing that he still canāt see me and quickly recover, āYes.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āI want you on your hands and knees. Arch your back and touch yourself.ā I nod again, rolling quickly to my hands and knees to do as he asks, āI canāt see you, Sweetheart. Are you listening to me?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYes, Sir.ā I mumble as I rush to put the phone on speaker and roll my hips against my fingers, āIām listening.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āGood girl.ā He replies, chuckling as I moan at the name, āYou like that?ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āYes. I love that.ā I pant, rubbing faster against the bundle nerves between my thighs. My eyes roll back at the feeling and I try my best to focus on Deanās voice as he continues to talk me through this.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āAll those little sounds your making are getting me so hard, Darlinā. I canāt stop thinking about how good you must feel, about how good Iād make you feel.ā His husky whispers sends my imagination into overdrive as I raise up to sit on my heels. A single finger sinks into me and I moan out at the relief, āIāve been thinking about being inside you all day. Whatever you want me to do to you, Iād do it. I want to be so deep inside you.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā My eyes roll at his words, my breathing becoming heavier and I barely hear him when he asks, āYou close, Sweetheart? Want me to make you cum?ā The teasing lilt in his voice urging my hands to move quicker, my fingers rushing in and out of my opening like lightening. My toes curl and my vision goes blurry as the orgasm crashes into me suddenly. His name leaves my lips like a prayer as I come down and I hear him grunt, whispering my name quietly against the phone speaker.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā My breathing is heavy when I finally speak, āThank you.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He chuckles awkwardly and I can imagine the way a blush covers his cheeks when he replies, āNo need to thank me, Darlinā. I think I got just as much out of this as you did.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā I laugh a little in response, feeling the hint of a blush rising in my own cheeks. The relief I feel is insurmountable and I can feel exhaustion taking over my body in exchange for the rabid horniness from earlier. āDo you think this is over? The potion, I mean.ā I ask, waiting for the intense feeling of want to return.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āGuess weāll have to wait and see.ā He mumbles, āIf you need me again though, just call.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āWill do.ā I reply, āWe do have a lot to talk about when Iām feeling better thoughā¦ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He laughs nervously before trying to hide it as a cough before agreeing, āYeah, uh, we do.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā āIāll see you after my nap, Dean.ā I answer with a slight smile, āAnd then we can see just how quickly I forget my name.ā
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā He snorts and I can hear the smirk in his voice, āSet a timer, Sweetheart, it wonāt take long.ā
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#supernatural#spn fanfic#spnfandom#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#sam and dean#jensen ackles#jensen fucking ackles#dean winchester smut
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So, you might remember I started fixing my abandoned garden, and I said I was going to do it in small increments, and then I never said anything about it again. This is because, after I started doing it, suddenly the temperatures dropped below zero, and we had frost! This is appropriate in November, but it was so sudden I didn't expect it. I hadn't even planted garlic yet! And now it was too cold to work the soil. Oopsie.
However this morning I woke up, opened the window, and realized the southern wind was blowing, which means it got super warm! I immediately dressed up, grabbed my garlic, and went to the garden. I couldn't plant my garlic in the area I had already cleaned, because it's the outer area of the garden, and garlic is the #1 crop that gets stolen, so I have to plant it sneakily behind other things, invisible to prying eyes. That means I'd have to clear off another area. Here's what I'm dealing with today!
I know this looks like such a flop but honestly, this is so good for nature. All of the plants have lived their life cycle, housed little bugs and insects, produced flowers for the bees, and then got obliterated by the frost, as it should be. If I just left them be, they would slowly decompose into the soil and make it more fertile. It looks chaotic but nothing bad is going on here! I am going to make space now because there are some regulations for how community gardens should look like, and if one looks abandoned for too long, it gets taken away. I'm off to work :)
I've been working on this for 20 minutes and I found some produce in here!
I'm shocked there's a whole zucchini in there, even after the frost, I've never seen that. She's a bit of a weird texture, because she's gotten frozen, but otherwise looks good! Certainly the slugs love it. I also found a little potato plant, there could be potatoes underneath her. And in the third picture, I'm holding young garlic! I usually find this in the spring, it's interesting it's already so big, I love that.
Another little task I had planned was to find basil seeds; basil will usually grow flowers when it's allowed to grow naturally, and then the flowers create little seed packets inside of them, and after those get nice and dried up, they're ready to harvest. Here's how it looks like:
If I rubbed all those little pods together, I would be able to find tiny black-brown seeds in there! I used to do that before, extract all of the tiny seeds and store them, but later I got lazy and figured I can just save this entire mess and plant it and basil still germinates just the same.
An hour of work later, I have dug out a giant lemon balm plant out of the soil, because it was taking up too much space (no worries about her, she'll grow back in no time, they're immortal), and took out most of the grass, dead plants, and weeds. Here is the cleared garden!
I've freed two small kale plants that could still thrive during the winter, and there's a few brassicas that look willing to go to seed, which would be great for me to have more seeds from them. Now I can finally focus on the task I've come here for; to plant my garlic.
I made little holes with my spoon, and grabbed two biggest heads of garlic to plant the cloves. I'm not too fussed about it, as long as the bulbs are underground, you can't stop them from growing. If they're not in too deep, then it's easier to pull them out later! And my soil is more fertile on the surface as well. Usually during the winter, little rodends will dig a few of these out, to see if they're delicious, but when they realize it's not yummy, they just leave the bulbs on the top of soil. So I have to check on them a few times to make sure I plant them back! And they're so forgiving and strong, they just go right back to growing, bulbs are incredible.
I counted the garlic here, and there's 22 cloves, which should give me 22 heads of garlic in the late spring/early summer. I couldn't take any more pictures, because my hands were too muddy, but I planted additional two rows in a different location (in case thiefs find one location), and then I also had some of the 'spring garlic', which is a late variety, meaning it grows later, but lasts longer. Usually normal garlic will start sprouting in december, after which point it starts getting inedible, but late-variety garlic will stay fresh until spring. Planting garlic is so easy! The entire venture took me 15 minutes, and you could do this anywhere, and would be guaranteed some heads of garlic.
So watching these pictures you might think 'there's still so much weeds in here, you did not clear this off' and you're correct, I don't clear everything off! This is because I employ a different tactics in stopping weeds from growing; usually during the winter, I will cover the ground in a thick layer of dry leaves, so that light won't reach any of those weeds, and they stop growing just due to lack of sunlight. I'm not doing it this year because of one particular reason, and this reason is slugs. If I cover the ground in leaves now, they won't only protect it from the light, but also protect it from the cold. They'll prevent the ground from freezing as badly as it would usually freeze. And usually I love doing that, but this time, there are so many slugs in the ground that I want cold to eliminate. I'm going to leave my garden like this, and hope that we have an exceptionally cold winter and that slugs get deleted.
I planned to make a lentil soup today for lunch, so I'm grabbing some chives, and some kale to add to it! Kale is still thriving, and I'll be able to harvest it all winter. At this point I've been working for two hours and my pain started acting up, so I figured it was enough for today, and headed home. Here's all the stuff I brought home for lunch!
Zucchini, kale, potatoes, chives, young garlic. All great additions for my lentil soup! I love being able to get fresh food in November. The soup turned out amazing, I love lentils with potatoes and kale and garlic.
#garden update#fall garden#clearing the garden#fixing abandoned garden#planting garlic#garlic bulbs#finding produce in abandoned garden#kale#chives#basil#seed collection#i'm drying chives for spice btw
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Dreamweaver's Heart
Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.
Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.
Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D
I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.
Masterlist
āOne, two, three, four, five, okay,ā You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.
ā8:13,ā You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. āAM,ā you concluded.
You look back to your fingers and count again. āOne, two, three, four, five,ā You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadnāt moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific.Ā
When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasnāt much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined.Ā
Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things.Ā
You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and youāre sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts.Ā
āThis is the life,ā You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off.Ā
You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it.Ā
When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly.Ā
Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, fiveā¦ six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, itās just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.
While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the otherās fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world.Ā
Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house.Ā
A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. Heās patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile.Ā
āAre you hungry, boy?ā You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dogās eyes as it begins to chow down on its food.Ā
You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it.Ā
You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly.Ā
You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and youāre hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move.Ā
āWake up, wake up!ā You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still donāt wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. āThis isnāt funny, wake up!ā You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher.Ā
Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldnāt admit hurt his ego a little bitā¦ just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a moreā¦ sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead.Ā
āThis dream is over,ā He commands and waves his hand over the scene.Ā
You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. Youāre quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadnāt gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again.Ā
Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasnāt found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didnāt give you the energy you craved.Ā
Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you.Ā
The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you donāt even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, youāre greeted by a whaleā¦ in a tutu.Ā
Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. Itās then that you remember to count your fingers.
āOne, two, three, four, five,ā All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream.Ā
āThank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,ā You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you.Ā
Youāre back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by.Ā
Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didnāt eat that much, did you?
āI see that you have started without me,ā A voice comments.Ā
You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat.Ā
āIsnāt it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?ā You ask instead.Ā
You donāt protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket.Ā
āBetter?ā He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again.Ā
āHmm,ā You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. Itās a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. āWait, who are you?āĀ
āNo one you havenāt met before,ā He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond.Ā
You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose.Ā
āOh, my god. I donāt think Iāve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,ā You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you.Ā
Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Catās Cradle, and produce a small pillow.Ā
You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment.Ā
You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.Ā
āYou have a great side profile, you know?ā You donāt know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens.Ā
Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldnāt expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldnāt help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious.Ā
āThank you,ā He says when he is done laughing.Ā
When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you wonāt have to fight your demons on your own again.Ā
The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you havenāt seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city.Ā
You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place.Ā
āHow have you been, Poppet?ā He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname heās been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor.Ā
You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didnāt want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety.Ā
āOh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.ā You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. āSame shit, different day,ā You mutter in conclusion.Ā
Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life.Ā
āWhat brings you into town?ā You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread.Ā
āWork, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.ā He gestures to the city around him.Ā
Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude.Ā
Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways.Ā
āHow long are you staying in the city?ā You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then.Ā
āAbout a week.ā Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place.Ā
āA week, huh?ā You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. āYou should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.āĀ
āIāll be there.ā Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds.Ā
Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card.Ā
āAw, man. What?ā You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. āThere wasnāt a rain forecast today,ā You grumble to yourself.Ā
The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection.Ā
āDo you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? Itās just a few blocks from here.ā You offer.Ā
āLead the way, Poppet,ā Oliver says with a smile.Ā
You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside.Ā
āWow, youāve decorated the place nicely,ā Oliver whistles his approval.Ā
He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink.Ā
āYeah, if work canāt destress me why should my own home be?ā You nodded along.Ā
The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didnāt have company over, you wouldāve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming.Ā
āPoppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?ā Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions.Ā
āErm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.ā Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks.Ā
Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didnāt know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that itās been expired since last christmas, you pretend you donāt.Ā
Thereās probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself.Ā
āWant hot chocolate?ā You ask, peeking at Oliverās form in the living room.Ā
He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliverās face when he turns around.Ā
āNo, not that remote, the other one,ā You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway.Ā
āWhich remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!ā He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.
The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up.Ā
āThere has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.ā The news anchor speaks.Ā
āOh, shit.ā Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news.Ā
āWelcome to the city, I guess,ā You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove.Ā
āStill, you should stay safe,ā Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. Youāre mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you donāt answer right away, Oliver presses again. āYou will be safe, right?ā
āYes, mom,ā You sarcastically groan. āIāll be safe.ā
āThatās my Poppet,ā He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made.Ā
āCareful, itās ho-ā
āJESUS!ā Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you donāt spill it all over yourself.Ā
āAre you laughing at my pain?ā Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.
The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak.Ā
āSto-stop, youāre going to make me pee,ā You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldnāt even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.
Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, youāre not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, letās be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh.Ā
āThat was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?ā Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink.Ā
āThe city is not mean, itās just different than home,ā You reply with a roll of your eyes. āI wouldnāt change it for anything though.ā
Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie.Ā
You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and youāre glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you wouldāve had to worry about potential flooding.Ā
At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. Youāre on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliverās much warmer body.Ā
The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open.Ā
āSorry, Oliver, didnāt mean to fall asleep on you,ā You apologize before youāre completely awake.Ā
āIt is nothing of note,ā Someone elseās voice responds instead.Ā
You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time itās warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body.Ā
Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up.Ā
āGuess Iām dreaming again,ā You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and youāre lying comfortably by the manās side again.Ā
āEver the perceptive one,ā He responds back.Ā
āI didnāt know I could dream of something thisā¦ spectacular,ā You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesnāt move away, something you took as a good sign.Ā
āYou did not, I did,ā He says slowly.Ā
āHmm, itās nice, thank you.ā You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth.Ā
Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasnāt been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet.Ā
Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didnāt find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here.Ā
āMy Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.ā His words were calculated when he spoke. āYou are in danger, be cautious.ā
āWhat?āĀ
āThis dream is over.ā
You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water.Ā
You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliverās.
āPoppet, I canāt find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Donāt worry I called a cab I wonāt get murdered tonight cause Iām vigilant unlike some people Mwah, OliverāĀ
That night, your mystery man didnāt visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. Youāre plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control.Ā
Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders havenāt stopped and itās gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief.Ā
The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you donāt mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going.Ā
āA few nights ago,ā He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. āYou did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.ā
It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so āwonderfullyā had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer.Ā
āYou canāt really scream when youāre drowning.ā Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words.Ā
You donāt dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason.Ā
āI donāt know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.ā
Itās now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense.Ā
āI am Dream of the Endless,ā He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. āI am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think youāve met before while walking the street.ā
Youāre very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy.Ā
āWould you really have come if I called for you?ā You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze.Ā
āYes.ā
āOkay.ā You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you.Ā
Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look itās nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when youāre simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.
Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream.Ā
The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily.Ā
Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the windās percussion between the mountain cracks.Ā
You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the waterās surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water.Ā
āOw, what the hell?ā You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You donāt have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake.Ā
Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you.Ā
You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him.Ā
āHe was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.ā Oliverās voice carries through the thin wall.Ā
Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. Itās now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream.Ā
Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?
āAh, Poppet, youāre here already,ā Oliverās whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. āIs your finger hurt?ā He notices and reaches for your hand.
āNo,ā You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. āItās just a scratch. Shall we go?ā You turn before you give him a chance to answer.Ā
The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliverās side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life.Ā
Itās only noon and youāre exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment.Ā
āOh my God, I can taste blood,ā You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine.Ā
āWhen was the last time you exercised?ā He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment.Ā
You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. āI briskly walked to my car this morning,ā Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. āAfter the elevator ride down to the main floor.ā
āGood grief, woman,ā He jests. āWe need to get you to the gym.āĀ
āOver my dead body,ā You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber.Ā
The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. Youāre breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration.Ā
āDonāt be dramatic,ā Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers.Ā
āIām going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?ā You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath.Ā
āNo, Iāve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.ā You hear Oliverās voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. āAlright, Iāll see you off in a few days, yeah?āĀ
Oliverās outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin.Ā
āGeez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,ā You say behind a small laugh.Ā
āIām going to head out, alright? But yeah, letās meet one more time before I leave later this week.ā Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead.Ā
āSounds good,ā You agree, staring at the finger.Ā
āStay safe out there, Poppet.ā He waves and goes for the door. āIāve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.ā
You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out.Ā
Youāre drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliverās wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he canāt get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave.Ā
An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails.Ā
The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that itās time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliverās wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldnāt tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together.Ā
How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in.Ā
Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliverās home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliverās door and you donāt know why but youāre nervous. There wasnāt an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter.Ā
All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice.Ā
āOliver?ā You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside.Ā
No answer.
āOllieeeeā¦ā You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.
You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. Sheās tied down to a wooden table and you think youāre interrupting something if it wasnāt for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you.Ā
āHelp me,ā She pleads.Ā
Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table.Ā
āPlease.ā She sobs again.Ā
Youāre numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and youāre sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you wouldāve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring.Ā
āOliver,ā You gulp down as you take a step back.
He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldnāt be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago.Ā
āCome here.ā He guides you closer. āThis is our guest, Poppet.ā He introduces.Ā
The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. āStop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!ā
Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, itās acidity painful to swallow. Aloraās tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her.Ā
āLet.. let her go,ā You say with a shaky breath. Itās the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.
Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck.Ā
āI thought we couldā¦ share her,ā He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again.Ā
āShareā¦ her,ā You echo.
This wasnāt real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would neverā¦Ā
You look down at your fingers, theyāre shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. Itās still the right time. One, two, three, four, five.Ā
āA dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.ā You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five.Ā
You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you.Ā
āAh, ah, none of that.ā Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you.Ā
His attention turns back to you again. āWhat do you think of it?ā He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent.Ā
āWhat do I think of it?ā You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be.Ā
Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Aloraās face.Ā
āLook at Poppet here, notice anything?ā
Thatās when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didnāt see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliverās scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as theyāre upturned in agony.Ā
āI think Iām going to be sick,ā You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave.Ā
āNo, donāt be, my sweet Poppet,ā Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. āHere, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?ā
āWh-what?ā You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Aloraās throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder.Ā
āNO!ā You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, itās too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.
The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and youāre left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again.Ā
āYou look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,ā He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. āLet me clean everything up and then Iāll take care of you, okay?ā
You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean.Ā
āYou were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.ā Oliverās familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment.Ā
Itās enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You donāt know where youāre going to go, but anywhere is better than here.Ā
āPoppet! Wait!ā Oliver screams behind you and heās fast to catch you.Ā
Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium.Ā
A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close.Ā
āWould you really have come if I called for you?ā
āYes.ā
āOkay.ā
āDream,ā You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. āNo, no, let go of me!āĀ
The man clad in black doesnāt show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesnāt. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didnāt previously know.Ā
āMorpheus!ā You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood.Ā
Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. Youāre pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. Youāre stopped short at the sight.Ā
In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand.Ā
āDream?ā You question and his gaze turns to you. You canāt see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you.Ā
āWho the hell are you?ā Oliver sneers at him.
Dream doesnāt reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver.Ā
āHey, get away from my Poppet.ā Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dreamās words.Ā
āBe quiet,ā He commands. Itās two words, but it renders him speechless. āI turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.ā
The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliverās face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage.Ā
āHello, my Dreamweaver,ā He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. āCome, nightmares shall hunt you no further.āĀ
āYou came,ā You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand.Ā
āI kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.ā His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face.Ā
"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.
His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.
You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. Youāre in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade.Ā
āWill you stay?ā You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself.Ā
āYes.ā
āOkay.ā You smile.Ā
Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh
My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood
Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?
ā” Yours, Layla
#the sandman#dream of the endless#morpheus#morpheus x reader#dream x reader#the sandman fanfic#dream of the endless x reader#the sandman x reader#sandman x reader
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My thought about yandere Wriothesley
My thought about yandere Wriothesley
I swear he has SO MUCH POTENTIAL!!
He may look like a gentleman, you can see him as a gentleman and he can even be a gentlemen
But be aware of how far he took to get revenge on his foster parents. He will do anything to get what he wants.
Well at least to you, he will be gentle and easy, not that brutal and bloody.
I have a feeling that Wriothesley will have eyes on good girls. You may be noisy or sassy, you may be silent and shy, but your eyes, your heartā¦ They are so innocentā¦ So pureā¦ Itās utterly beautiful like crystal to him. The way you help others, the way you are not scared of his appearance.
He may notice you when you two are in the shop, both buying a big bag of tea, milk and sugar. He is surprised at that amount of tea and your shining aura.
His heart goes BANG when he sees you help a homeless boy, you defend him against those bad people.
Youāreā¦ kindā¦ and brave. He loves your slight tremble, trying to act tough.
He is jealous of that boy. He is so lucky to have you protect him. Wriothesley wishes he had someone like you in the past, maybe his life would be a little sweeter.
Like a hunter set his eyes on the prey. He will find a way to approach you.
Even if you have a boyfriend or husband already, it doesnāt matter to him. Remember his material for talent upgrade? He need āOrderā, not āEquityā (or Justice to me). And itās right for you to become his lovely and only treasure.
Wriothesley is actually very human. He will not just snatch you into his place.
At least, he tried to be a normal boyfriend, a perfect lover to you. After all, he really wants an ordinary life like everyone else.
But later, things got ugly. He struggled so much to believe you or everyone, everything around you.
He suspected the man talked to you on the street that day. He thought your family, your friends were trying to separate you from him. He is scared that youāll leave him someday, that he will lose something he treasured so much again.
Thatās when he decided: You need to be placed somewhere he can watch, always.
Things got even worse if you wanted to break up with him. Youāre done. There is a high chance that you will wake up with your leg broken, or cuff, depending on how bratty and cold-heart you were.
Well, he will bring you down with him no matter what.
If I have to describe Yandere Wriothesley in one word, I will say: manipulation.
I believe Wriothesley is hella good at manipulating. Do you see how he cornered Lyney till he lost control? This big shit will gaslight you to believe fish can walk.
He did say that he would feel bad if he kept a pet in the fortress because they could not see the sunlight. But he could train you to accommodate to the environment. Thatās much easier.
He will act like he was not the one who kidnapped you but ājust a little bit forceful invitation to live with himā.
He will be a gentleman, respect you, listen to you, even argue with you if you are too āfussyā, told you that you can be nicer to him.
Why he is doing those? Because he knows youāre a āgood girlā
Sooner or later, your kind heart will make you doubt yourself that maybe you were too harsh on him.
Your innocent soul will soon feel guilty because every āhassleā you cause others to deal with.
Wriothesley, unlike most of yandere who just lock his darling in a room the whole day, he makes you busy all day, let you roam around the Fortress on your own. Youāre his darling, his cute little pet, not his prisoner.
He needs to create a playground for you, so you donāt have time to be sad, angry, miss the upper world, or even think about escaping.
Luckily, he is the Duke, the Warden, and the fortress is out of Fontaineās control. So technically, he is the King down here.
So darling, what do you want to do? Just name it and he will give you.
A baker? Prisoners will smile happily when receive your delicious food every day. A teacher? Those people will express how grateful they are to gain more knowledge thanks to you. An accountant or secretary? Wriothesley himself will gladly have you on his side, helping him with paperwork.
Even if you want to be a slut. You will be promoted from part-time slut to full-time slut. But only for him.
Whatever you want, name it and he will find a way.
See? Life is really good down here, right? You have a dream job, delicious food, pretty clothes, lovely people, and especially, a man who is loyal and loves you unconditionally. What could you ask more?
Slowly, even if you can escape, you will not do that because youāre having so much fun and peace in here.
After all, the Duke really wants to be loved, as much as he loves you. But being a skeptical person because of his trauma, he needs you to stay where he can watch you.
Sometimes, he will show you his weak side. That will kick your mother hen instinct, just like that day when you protect that weak boy.
Oh this sly wolf, he will do everything to get you.
But do not think you can get away with everything. You definitely donāt want to see him get mad ever again.
Letās say, you escaped and got caught by him.
That man will let you sit and watch he torturing your partner in crime (of course you cannot do all the work yourself), let you hear their loud agony, see their body slammed hard on the ground.
The more you beg for them, the more torturing he will give them. Until you are trembling in fear and tears and whimpering.
Does the guiltiness eat you? Thatās his intention. He just knows you too well.
That is just one of his tricks. He has plenty to use. After all, he lived for quite some time, and most of them were in the Fortress.
He usually hugs you in sleep. Donāt hesitate to put your head on his arm or sleep on his body. He LOVES those pressures.
I have a feeling he will hug you like a teddy bear. And when he needs to switch to the other side, he will just āmoveā you along with him.
Even when you guys are in a ābad termā, he will sleep and hug you no matter what. Wriothesley even snug his head in your neck, like a poor boy.
As if you WERE the one at fault!
Overall, Wriothesley will make your relationship become ānormalā sooner or later. You will think that this is just a little āspecialā, a little extraordinary, a bit of spice in love that everyone has.
That staying here forever is normal
That his love is totally normal
That you love him
That you want to have a family with him.
Wriothesley is smart, he knows what he wants, and doesnāt really care about morals.
So it is impossible for you to escape since he set his eyes on you.
I would write about him in bed another day
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#wriothesley genshin#wriothesley headcanons#wriothesley x reader#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x reader#yandere wriothesley
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Chapter 1
Masterlist
The doorbell is already disturbing. I walked to the door and I could see through the camera a white napkin waving in the air. I giggled and opened the door.
āSo you already visited mom, huh?ā Lewis hugs me softly.
āIt's so obvious?ā I let him walk in, right to my mess. āIt's actually happening, oh my god.āĀ
I put my hands at my waist and see my apartment or what still makes it look like my apartment.
Lewis points to the big pile of boxes and bags next to the window. āThis is for moving?ā
āThat's for charity or rubbish.ā I point to the barely 5 boxes next to the T.V. āThose are mine.āĀ
He pressed his lips together, seeing the mayhem in the kitchen, all types of food containers and a lot, a lot of boxes and bags split all over it.
āWhat have you been eating?ā That moody voice tone exactly as mom.
I walked to clean the sofa so he could sit. āPizza, Mexican and Chinese, healthy meals.ā
I layed in the carpet tired as I heard him talking about what I should be eating; however he wasnāt speaking to me, he's on his phone ordering food, a healthy one.
He hung out, took out his coat and laid next to me. āUpside down?āĀ
I scoff remembering what these 7 months have been, hitting like a thunder on my mind and heart.
āI had a life planned Lew, literally I was at 10 hours of walking down the altar, and look at me.ā I raised my arms to the sky. āNow Iām packing, trying to move on and set a piece of life together.ā
Lewis sighs but turns on a Bob Marley's song, āThree Little Birds.ā
āAnd the job?ā I laugh because I forgot to mention I already quit my job.Ā
I see the empty walls and furniture, the frames piled in a box and the bag full of fragments of photos. Years in tiny parts.
I told my twisted life to my older brother, after a delicious dinner and random talk with Lewis, he walks and observes the boxes and suitcases.
āSo all this goes with mom?ā I forget I changed the moving date, but the new owners of the apartem arrive in 3 days.Ā
I tossed my hair. āItās the plan.āĀ
Lewis makes a weird face as he sees all the wedding presents that friends and family instead I keep.Ā
āWhy donāt you send it to my place? Iām barely at home.ā I stand up and walk to him. āI know you can handle it, but itās easier.āĀ
I see the present disturb him so much, and put it away.Ā āOk, not because it is easier, unless you find a job.āĀ
I have money for living 3 months without worrying too much. However, in my to do list to find a job it's a priority.
āOh, talking about that.ā I shook my head and he put his hands on my shoulders. āListen to me first, ok? I donāt spoil you, not that much.āĀ
Both of us laugh.
āIāve been thinking, you need distance from all this, and you and I have been talking about founding a refuge for dogs, right? So, here is my offer.ā He used his poker face. āPrepare a proposal for the refuge, all included, convince me and if you do it, I set everything for we can put it to work. But I have two conditions.āĀ
I bluff but I keep listing. ā1. You will accept a modest pay for reporting your advances. 2. Youāll come with me this season.āĀ
I roll my eyes faking a laugh, and walk back to keep packing, but he doesn't surrender.
āCome on, itās a good offer. Besides, I need someone whoās to keep an eye on Rosco all the time and not be distracted for the race.āĀ
I feel so proud of Lewis, however he knows Iām not anymore a huge fan of the formula one, less if he didnāt win, and Rosco doesnāt travel that far.
āDonāt use Rosco against me.ā I turn around and a photo of Rosco is in front of me. āHamilton!āĀ
Lewis moved his phone in front of my face. āThink about it, ok? Meanwhile Iāll keep your boxes safe.āĀ Ā
I push him as he begins to close the boxes with tape. āItās rude to use my love for Rosco against me, you know that?ā
He smiles but doesn't answer and focuses on his task.
It's a bittersweet feeling how 6 years of my life now is packaged in 5 boxes, 3 suitcases and 2 bags.Ā
T.V turned on, like always, mom is in her bedroom watching the first race of the season early in the morning.Ā
I soft knock on her door. āCan I come in?ā She smiles and pats the side of her bed as I laid down with her.
After a couple of minutes she finally spoke. āIām proud, how you are handling this.ā
I scoff and hide under the sheets. āMom, Iām a mess, I feel like a mess and my life is a mess. Proud of what?ā
Mom discovers my head and smiles softly at me. āBut you are still fighting, believe that is more than enough.ā Jewel appears under the sheets and licks my face. āA mess but a wonderful one.āĀ
I smile and hug her as Jewel gets between us. āThanks mom.āĀ
The commentator said Lewis made an amazing overpass to Sainz and now is in the 5th place, mom splits and watches the T.V holding my hand.
The radio communication of Max appears on the screen along his onboard.
āSmart guy, a little bit not too friendly? I think.ā I laugh and stand to go change my clothes for taking out Jewel.
Mom stops me at the door. āYou have all packed?ā
I nodded and Jewel was about to pass over my feet, sniffing my shoes. The 3 year old pomeranian, who is picky about his morning walks.
āDonāt be jealous young lady, those boys have my things, I must be nice.ā The expression of my mom makes me smile.
Melbourne greeted me with a strong windy day, following the specific and detailed instruction of Lewis. I just packed what I could need and no one could get it for me.Ā
We agreed that I donāt attend the paddock on the days of practices and the qualy day. I remind myself to focus on my job and I keep my nerves calm as much as I can.
At 5 am, I knew it Lewis knock the door of my room, three soft knocks follow by <Itās me.>
I opened the door for him, eyes half closed as he put a bag over my bed.Ā
āI canāt believe I got you this.ā I opened the bag and saw the t-shirt and caps I asked him. āThe clothes are perfectly fine.ā He pointed to the other bag next to my bed.
The day I arrived a bag full of clothes was on my bed, my issue is all are clothes style Lewis Hamilton.
I take out the clothes of Mercedes, black and white t-shirt and only black caps. āIām not a fashionista, thank you so much.ā Lewis scoffs and tosses my hair.
āDonāt be late.ā He said leaving my room and sunglasses on. The sun didnāt even come out yet.
In the paddock I arrive in calm and walk right to Mercedes hospitality greeting all the people I know and someone who I was introduced to in the past days.
I stayed in there as much as I could, working and seeing the videos that are posted in the preview. After the ceremony I stopped working and walked where all the Mercedes crew used to watch the race.Ā
Great race for Lewis and a second place, get all the team clapping and congratulating each other for the good work. I remind myself in the garage all the ceremony to keep far away from the cameras and reporters.
It isnāt like the old times anymore.
After the ceremony, along with the celebrations, Lewis changed his wet clothes. I met him in the garage giving him a big hug.
āSo proud of you.ā I hug him tight, before splitting and hugging him one more time. āMom said this is for her.āĀ
Lewis chuckles and sighs. āIām so happy to have you here again.ā
With the cameras focused one more time in the first place, almost all the garages are calm.
After I split from Lewis, someone got down my cap and hugged me shaking me side to side.
āHere is where you've been hiding, huh?ā I recognized the voice of Bottas even though my eyes were covered.
I giggle. āDamn it, I should stay in the hospitality room.ā Mocking Bottas who let me go and smiled at me.
Checo laughs and I hug him. āHow long has it been?āĀ
I didnāt even think about it, but there are few pilots who have kept going here since the last time I came to a Gran Prix.
Lewis sighs as both of us look at each other. āPff, like, 9-10 years, more less?ā I said winning eyes wide open from everyone.
āYou were this tall.ā Checo raised his hand to the level of his torso.
Bottas couldnāt let go. āNo, no, this tall.ā This time my height was at their waist.
I giggle. āOk, I got it, I will say hi from time to time. I wasnāt that little.ā I stuck my tongue out for them.
āYes, you were.ā Lewis sentences. āBut, this grown up guys has been asking if it was actually you, the girl who has a strong resemblance and walks around the paddock or if it was someone else.ā
āTurns out, itās actually you.ā Bottas fake a shock expression.Ā
Their respective crews interrupt us, all still have a lot of things to do, so they say goodbye and make me promise at least I won't hide from them, the younger ones have to live with that.
Late at night, Lewis finally had time to rest and we went out for dinner. We chose a nice place with an amazing view to the ocean far away from people so we can talk in peace.
āIt changed?ā Lewis asked in the middle of our dinner. āThe paddock, the atmosphere, all.āĀ
āItās been 10 years, Hamilton, of course changed, a lot of new faces.āĀ
Years ago I was the little sister of a F1 champion. There were days where cameras were over me and made me feelā¦. some relevant, a proud sister who was grabbed at her father and mother's hands supporting his older brother.
Just I forgot that I was a little fish in a tank of sharks.
Lewis clearly understood the silence that followed by stirring answers.
āYouāre right, things change.ā Lewis careness my hair and smiles at me. āRemember itās just a year, by the end of it you will be a brand new you at thatās what matters to me.ā Lewis has this tendency of making me cry easily.
I sniffed as I laid my head in his hand. āWhy do I have the best brother in the world?āĀ
Lewis laughed and laid back a proud smile on his face. āWhat a coincidence! I had the same question.ā
The no race weeks I spent in Newport in Wales where I plan to set up the refuge; searching places and an apartment, a few days in London babysitting Rosco and explaining Lewis my advances in search for some recommendation, but always I have the same answer.Ā
<You have the master's on this, I trust you. Just think about put Rosco face on the inauguration.>
One of the many things I love from the paddock is the Mercedes area; big black crystals all over the place, almost impossible to see inside but so easily to see outside, at the last level a rest zone where you can hardly hear the people from inside and the people outside hears and feels distant.
The race week in Azerbaiyan I allowed myself to go to the paddock for the sprint. Lewis finished in seventh place and George in fourth, so after it ended all reunited for the small meeting they had every time a race ended.
I go to work in what I called, the tea zone, with some peaches and my computer trying to brainstorm me, but I get stuck every time I start typing.Ā
I bite the top of my pen and I close the computer at this rate Iāll have burned out.
I lay back my head, stretching my neck and when I sit down straight one more time I notice the top level of the Red Bull building is almost empty, just a single person taking a Red Bull watching his phone.Ā
I go down stairs where I can see right to Tom, one of the teammates of Lewis.Ā
āStill inside, huh?ā Tom nods, making adjustments to his camera.
āTough day.ā He sees me. āThis is a familiar thing, huh?ā He pointed at the sunglasses.Ā
I giggle while taking another bite of my peach. āWe can say that.ā I sigh. āIām going out for a while, Iāll be back to leave with my brother, all right?āĀ
Tom nods, after a month they learned one thing; Lewis, this time is overprotective of me.
āUse one of the markers so you don't get lost again.ā Tom jokes about the first week I arrived, I got lost as I walked around the place.
At the end of the day, there was a lot of movement around the place, but what always calls for attention is the drivers. If you can see a bunch of cameras, people and one single color in the middle you find a driver.
I reached the zone where you can see all the garages, I stopped there trying to focus on and put an order to my mind.Ā
āItās weird for someone who isnāt that excited to have a car just a few meters away.ā I donāt turn around hoping for my āI knowā to be a satisfactory answer. āAlmost all around here would give anything to be this close.ā
Reckless I turn around. āI have other priorities, a different one. Iām here for who matters to me.āĀ
āThen you should be with that person.ā I scoff at the answer.Ā
Mom, you're right, Max isnāt an easy going guy.
I stand straight holding my eyes on his totally not friendly face; curiously mad, thatās how I feel.
āI heard you could be here.ā Checo speaks, still with his suit race at the level of his waist.Ā
Thatās what for the sunglasses, I can roll my eyes and no one knows.Ā
āIām not lost, I swear.ā I walk to him, giving him a hug. āSuch a good race, congratulations.ā
Checo hugs smiles. āI better go, I should be in another place.ā Checo narrowed his eyes and looked at my back. āSee you tomorrow.ā
I walked and didn't turn back but I could hear the conversation at my back.
āYou collect mad Hamiltons, mate.ā Checo said.
āWhat? What are you talking about?ā Max raises his voice. I couldnāt avoid taking my time.
Checo makes himself more clear.Ā āShe is Lewis Hamilton's sister. His little sister.āĀ
As soon as I arrived at the building, Lewis came out from the meeting, a kind of stress expression on his face.Ā
I greet all the team with a smile as they let us alone in the hall.
āTough one?ā Lewis put his arm around my shoulder, changing the subject.
āAre you hungry? Let me change my clothes and we will go for dinner.ā Yes, it was a tough one.
As we walk out from the paddock Lewis notices for the first time my camouflage actually works. Wearing a cap, t-shirt from Mercedes and jeans, combine with a hoodie or a jacket is enough for the cameras and reporters didn't even looked at me
In the car Lewis giggles. āI'm impressed. Good plan.ā I giggle. āSmart girl.ā
Our night is pretty lovely, nice dinner, a good talk and going back to bed earlier so he can be fresh for tomorrow's race.
One more time it was an early race, so by the time I left the hotel, news about his arriving at the paddock were all over the internet.
I walk in calmness at the entrance even when I see the world wide champion standing outside of RB hospitality. It's time for a second round?
āMorning Y/N.ā Bono greeted me as he appeared next to me, head and papers in his hand.Ā
Bono has been with my brother for years, supporting him, helping, being a friend, becoming family.
āHow was the dinner?ā He smiles and walks next to me as we get inside talking about our nights.
No, the second round must wait.
It wasnāt a good race for the team with the fifth place from Lewis and the seventh of George it's not how the team expected it to be.
After the race ends, I meet my brother in the hospitality room, I hear him so he lets out all that disturbs him.
āI left my phone in the garage.ā Lewis let back his head. āWait here Iā¦ā
I know he's tired of cameras and questions so I grab his arm. āI'll go. Stay calm.ā Lewis pressed his lips together but didn't reply to me.
As I put my cap outside of the building I lost the vision in front of me until the incessant chattering made me lift my eyes. Cameras and microphones all over Max.
Same strategy, pass behind the cameramans who are so immersed in taking the best or worst side of the winner of the day.
In the garage I pick up the phone and walk back where Lewis has his eyes closed, headphones on.
āWhere are those connected?ā He laughs and takes his phone.Ā
āI remember the songs.āĀ
After a long day, finally Lewis is free to go. We'll take a flight late at night to London to go to a party of a friend of the family.
In the hotel lobby picking our things, we were talking about the time he has to learn to change dippers.
A few meters from the main door, Max intercepts us. āLewis, youāre leaving?ā Lewis and I turn around.
āYeah, we have a small reunion with family.ā Lewis stops and thinks for a second. āOh, you donāt know each other, Max, sheās my little sister, Y/N...āĀ
āWe crossed paths before.ā I said shaking my hand in front of Max, but Lewis noted the acid answer.
āNot that good, I guess.ā Max narrows his eyes to me as he tries to see through my sunglasses.Ā
One of the bellboys calls for us teeling our car is waiting for us.Ā
āNice to meet you Max.ā I said politely as much as I could. Lewis giggled and gave Max a similar observation as Checo.
āWinning her bad side so quickly, another record Max.ā I heard his hands crashing into each other, in a high five.Ā
In the car Lewis giggles, shaking his head. āWhat?āĀ
āWhat did he say to you?ā I shook my head and threw at him a fluffy toy I bought for Rosco.
āLet it go Lew, let it go.ā He took out his phone and taunted me as I put my headphonesĀ
āJust me?ā
#f1#f1 imagine#formula 1#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 x female reader#max verstappen imagine#lewis hamilton#mercedes#sir lewis hamilton
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these morons of jujutsu high
pairing: gojo satoru, geto suguru, shoko ieiri and fem!reader
genre + warnings: - this is NOT a poly fic. theyāre all just vvv good friends. nanami and haibara were mentioned. mentions of blood, death and general jujutsu kaisen TW stuff. smoking, the word āgoddamnedā is mentioned. gojo being an idiot lmfao.
overall FLUFF !!
word count: 1219
authors note: so this is just a cute, heartfelt piece about the jjk troublemakers including and reader. i was thinking of making this the intro of a potential series but āØ letās see āØ
enjoyyyy <3
Is this really my life?
A question that always lingers in your mind.
Being a jujutsu sorcerer was no walk in the park. Death was a regular occurrence in your line of work. Deaths you anticipated, deaths you caused, deaths of friends, and even deaths of curses. None of them are ever easy to deal with. Nothing about this goddamned job is easy.
The smell of blood is as common to you as the smell of antiseptics is to a doctor. The sound of a curse evaporating into nothingness is ingrained in your brain as the sound of a child's first laughter is ingrained in the minds of their parents. Your hands are used to the touch of the cold steel of your weapons as a guitarist is used to the wood of their guitar.
This is your life. Your weapons are your instruments and the world is your stage. The only difference is, you have the blood of the crowd on your hands every. single. day. The blood of curses, the blood of humans, the blood of your comrades, and the blood of your own body.
How could it be that this life; so full of hurt, pain, despair, regret, fear, loneliness, anxiety, and depression, can also have so much happiness, love, excitement, companionship, adventure, humor, and serenity? Thatās life, you suppose. But how can a life like yours have so much love alongside such hatred?
Your friends are the reason, you suppose.
These morons of Jujutsu High.
They feel the same emotions as deeply as you do. They have all felt loss, betrayal, grief, and death as much as you have.
Gojo Satoru had basically been raised as a trophy or a high-value product kept in perfect condition for the world to gawk at with wide eyes and ulterior motives. With the weight of the responsibility of being āStrongestā hanging over his shoulders and daggers and spears pointed at him from every direction, he never had the chance to be a mere child. Which is what he was. Just a child. From birth to the present day, he has had eyes on him with the neon sign labeled āStrongest Sorcerer Everā blinking over his head. Always on his guard, being wary of who to trust. Not a moment to be a child. Not a moment to be a teenager and certainly not a moment to be an independent adult, free to choose who to love or what to do in life. He only has one thing to do. One obligation he has had since birth. Be the strongest. Throughout the heavens and the earth, he alone is the honored one.
It's a pretty lonely role for one person to bear.
Geto Suguru has kind eyes, a simple smile, and an extremely feared cursed technique; but what that smile and easygoing personality covers is his heart burdened with the horrors he has had to face in his life. He too, was born with the responsibility of using his cursed technique to help people. Born with the ability to absorb curses and later use them as he so desires. Living every day just killing and absorbing something that tastes like a rag covered in vomit and shit. Having to force your oesophagus to open up and force your mind to think of something more delicious whilst absorbing the thing you killed a few minutes ago is all second nature to Geto Suguru. Doesnāt mean it ever gets easier. But the smile comes easily to him and his voice stays soft and stable as his words soothe even those who hate him.
Because Geto Suguru wants to help those who are weak, and he would swallow all the curses necessary in order to do so.
Shoko Ieiri is the epitome of genius. Since she was a child she knew fully how to use the reversed curse technique; the ability to heal oneself and others, a technique even the strongest and most experienced jujutsu sorcerers have trouble mastering. Being so valuable means she has to stay in a lot, or go to missions alone a lot. She doesnāt get to choose missions, doesnāt get to accompany her friends to even āpotentiallyā dangerous locations. Being so valuable, she is the first person every jujutsu sorcerer goes to for healing and rejuvenation. Which also means she has to see a lot of her comrades lie on the steel bed, lifeless and cold and limp. She is the one who has to patch them up and she is the one who has to cut them open. Dealing with death and the aftermath is her job.
That's a lot of death for two eyes to see and two hands to explore.
Meeting them, knowing them, and growing to love them is the most rewarding experience your roller coaster of a life has had to offer by far. Checking out every single cafe Japan has to offer, milking Satoru of all his wealth by going out to eat and Satoru eating the most (ironically), pissing off Yaga-Sensei, celebrating birthdays, arguing and then making up with actions instead of verbal apologies, being the loudest group in every train station, smoke breaks with Shoko and Suguru while hiding away from Satoru, spending sleepless nights under the stars with Satoru, teasing Nanami and Haibara for acting like a 50-year-old married couple, fighting curses and always having each otherās backs. This was your family. However dysfunctional and however small.
So now, sitting in the classroom watching Suguru and Satoru bicker about who knows what this time, with Shoko sitting next to you fiddling around with Satoruās sunglasses making faces and terrible impressions, bathed in the golden rays flooding the room through the windows as the sun goes down, you ponder the question; is this really your life?
You hear your name being called and the train of thought comes to a halt, as you look up to find honey-gold eyes staring back at you.
āWhatāre you thinking about so hard?ā Suguru asks with his soft eyes and an even softer smile.
āSheās obviously thinking about how right I am and how wrong you are, Suguru,ā Satoru interjects with his usual cocky smile and teasing lilt to his voice.
āYeah, she definitely thinks a seal can beat a hippo in a fight to the death,ā Shoko quips with unimpressed eyes and an obviously sarcastic smile.
Satoru slaps his hand on the desk so loudly that the sound reverberates throughout the entire floor youāre on, āHAH! Thank you Shoko, exactly what Iām saying. Of course Iām right.ā
He wears an accomplished smile as the sarcasm completely flies over his stupid head.
āGojoā¦ I was joking. Youāre obviously wrong.ā
You can almost hear something crack in his head. The sound of disappointment.
āHEY just think about it okay? So a seal-ā
As a new chapter of bickering begins between Shoko and Satoru, Suguru nudges your shoulder with a quirk of his eyebrows, silently repeating his previous question.
You look at him, look back at Satoru and Shoko and shake your head with a content smile and a huff of laughter, āJust thinking about life, I guess.ā
With a hum and a smile Suguru relaxes on your other side as you both turn your attention to the ongoing argument unravelling before you.
Yeah. This really is my life.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#shoko x reader#jjk fluff#gojo satoru#geto suguru#shoko ieiri#gojo uses sarcasm but fails to understand it when someone uses it on him#shoko is babygirl#geto is babie boy#nanami and haibara are a certified married couple#yaga wants to die#i love them your honor#jjk x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#shoko ieiri x reader
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( #feedist vignettes. Reblog if you like a fit feeder becoming fatter than their feedee. Gender neutral. Written in response to this ask, and my asks are still open.)
You used to stay fit for contrast's sake.
Not me. I've never been skinny. I was a greedy fatty as a kid, and I'm a greedy fatty now. When I first saw the look in your eyes when we met, I understood why you felt like you had to stay skinny. You have to look your "best" if you want to get your hands on a belly like this, right? After all, I'm a prize. Cute, charming, and dedicated to being hugely fucking fat.
But contrast is hard to maintain when you're around me. After all, I don't diet, to put it mildly. You always liked to come with me on my supermarket trips, because it turned you on as much as it turned me on to follow me through every aisle as I grabbed treat after treat, loading my cart up with all the most delicious fattening things, occasionally flipping a package over to check calorie counts and imagining how much weight I could gain if I ate the whole thing in one sitting.
It turned you on even more when I did eat the whole thing in one sitting.
And when your mind is taken over by horniness, it's easy to reach for one more bite and not lose track of just how much you've been putting away.
When you got chubby, it didn't bother you as much as you expected it would. I still couldn't keep my hands off you. It was annoying to shop for a whole new wardrobe, but you put your old clothes in storage temporarily until you got back to your gym routine.
You found yourself enjoying eating with me. When I got so full that even I couldn't take it any more, there was still all that food waiting to be eaten. And you always did like food. It wasn't easy staying thin, was it?
Then your belly developed a hang. You freaked out a little bit, at first. That lasted just a few hours, until I took you into the bedroom and showed you just how good it feels to have a partner's adoring lips and fingertips teasing your underbelly, how good it feels to grip your belly with one hand and feel it jiggle while you climax.
You were hooked.
We were shopping for two at the supermarket now. Two fatties pushing carts full of junk food, a slowly waddling superfat and a chunky little smallfat. It felt right, somehow. Romantic. Intimate.
But I've lived in this body my whole life. For you, it was all new. You weren't used to getting out of breath so easily. You weren't expecting the little aches and pains that make you decide to just sit and keep eating rather than get up from the couch. I was so tender when you needed me to be. So supportive.
When you wanted me to, though, I could tease you about how fat you were getting. About how if you weren't careful, you were going to get even fatter than me.
You wanted me to.
A lot.
And guess what?
It wasn't just teasing.
I'm back to one cart at the supermarket now, on the days when I don't splurge on curbside pickup or in-home delivery. You've gotten a little too fat to make those trips. Easier to just sit on the couch while I go out. Easier to sit there snacking while you wait for me to get back.
And now I'm the one with that wild look in my eye when I see you. You're gigantic. It's like you fill the couch entirely. It's not just that nobody would ever believe you used to be a gym rat. It's that nobody would ever believe you could walk more than a couple of steps at a time. I can hardly believe it, and I'm the one who helped make you this way.
I can't keep my hands off you.
I joke sometimes about how I corrupted you. I tease you about how your appetite is so out of control that you've gotten even fatter than me.
But you tease me right back. Did you just call me skinny?
We're going to have to do something about thatā¦
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The Real Real Cocytus Hall Collapsed:
This actually gave me real insight as to why Solomon is culinary challenged. Fair warning: Solomon roast ahead! Itās all in good fun and this WW gave me a laugh! I do enjoy Solomonās character a lot!
A plastic bag? In the oven?! You know what happens to plastic bags in the oven?! I feel like I canāt say anything because I mistook wax paper for cooking sheets and made my house super smoky once.
(They were melting chocolate.)
You set the chocolate on fire?! Chocolate isnāt hard to melt! I canāt bake very well but I help my mother and melting chocolate and butter is something even I can do. There are several different ways you can do it too. With the microwave, itās pretty self-explanatory.
Now, you have likely burnt chocolate with your melted chocolate. Why canāt you just follow the directions?
But waitā¦this gets so much worse!
(Read More due to length)
Shadow newt intestines?! Muddy spice?! Did Barbatos say to add any of those? No!
In all fairness they could be legit Devildom food but they could also be alchemy ingredients (or, most likely, both).
Sir, this isnāt your science experiment!
We all know alchemy ingredients can have unwanted effects. Also, assuming muddy spice tastesā¦muddy? That with the newt intestines is not going to be a pleasant flavor for the dessert.
Isnāt it easier and quicker just to sift it than to recite a whole ass spell?! This is just arrogance. Magic isnāt always better. We already know some lingering magic gets mixed into whatever the old man cooks when he pulls stunts like this.
Delicious?!
Delicious?!
Get out of here with your deadass tastebuds, grandpa!
Magic can be an absolute must for sorcerers in their careers and yet be separated from cooking and baking. It doesnāt need to be in every aspect of your life, especially when proven time after time to cause disastrous results. Remember when your cooking sent MC back in time?!
Pics taken moments before disaster strikes.
Oh Luke, what was that noise indeed? I believe it was the death cry of any hope that MC had for a relaxing afternoon. No wait, thatās just the poor oven finally succumbing to probably centuries (I mean heās stayed there before) of Solomonās torture.
RIP Good Soldier - You fought bravely
Barbatos has the tired mom look. He didnāt need to use his powers to know this would happen. Someone please give this man a vacation.
Funny that you think thereās a kitchen left to check on, Barb. MC is probably trying to scramble out of the sinkhole that was once Cocytus Hall. The oven exploding probably opened up a rift in space/time.
(un)Fortunately, Luke, Solomon is immortal. He will live to torture us yet again with his cooking. š¤£
Conclusion: Itās not that he canāt cook, or that heās clueless. Solomonās hubris from being a sorcerer (magic will make it better!) and dependence on magic (I strongly believe heās dependent on it at this point) are the reason for his disastrous dishes.
Solomon, you silly old man, I love you but you gotta get with the times and stop using magic for everything!
#obey me swd#obey me shall we date#om! swd#obey me spoilers#obey me nightbringer#nightbringer spoilers#om! nightbringer#om! nb#om! solomon#om! barbatos#om! luke#obey me!#obey me#obey me solomon#barbatos obey me#luke obey me#obey me barbatos#solomon obey me#swd solomon#swd barbatos#obey me! solomon#obey me! barbatos#obey me! nightbringer#obey me nb#obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date
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leaf piles with peter
2024 Fall Blurbs
Some days, Peterās overtaken with how lucky he is. He gets to spend every day loving you and Charlie, watching as she grows up before his eyes. He has the best support system, you and your daughter and Aunt May, three people he couldnāt imagine living without, and heās genuinely not sure heād be able to survive without the three of you, so he does his best to show how much he loves and appreciates all of you, every single day.
Small gestures are easiest, bringing home some flowers for you or the new book youād mentioned wanting to read once, a coloring book for Charlie or preparing her favorite dinner, and doing his best to take frequent trips out to his Aunt May, because even though sheās not very far, something about traveling across the city with a toddler is a miracle all on its own.
āI wish we had big trees,ā Charlie laments, dropping her head back so dramatically your grip on her starts to slip. Sheās more than capable of walking by herself, but sheās a flight risk and youāre already running late, so carrying her seemed like the better option, despite how wiggly she gets. Once you reach the front walk, you set her down, and she races towards the house, ringing the doorbell before you and Peter even get a chance to make it up the front steps.
āThereās my favorite girl!ā May reaches down and deftly swoops your daughter into her arms, with the skill that only comes from years of practice.
After all the greetings and hugs are exchanged, and Charlie is set down to run wild, Peter heads straight into the kitchen, setting up for dinner.
āThe whole point of inviting you over for dinner is to cook for you,ā May reminds her nephew, who makes a show of pretending not to hear him.
āMamma, can I play outside?ā Charlie runs up to you to ask, her tiny socked feet thudding against the hardwood floor. May is already nodding her approval before you can even ask, already knowing your question from the tilt of your head towards her.
āPut your shoes back on first,ā you remind her before she runs outside in just her socks.
The weather is perfect, sunny with an autumnal chill, so you and May end up joining Charlie outside, watching from the back porch as she runs through the leaves. Peter is left behind to finish dinner, but he really doesnāt mind, getting to watch his three favorite people from the wide windows in the kitchen. Charlie has the time of her life, sprinting around the yard and pausing to throw up a pile of leaves before setting off again, until she runs up to you, absolutely breathless and wearing a gap-toothed grin.
āPerfect timing, I think dinnerās ready,ā you tell your daughter, unable to resist planting a kiss on her wind-reddened cheek. You gather her up in your arms, a much easier task now that sheās exhausted herself, and bring her inside, where Peterās already set the table and plated everyoneās meal, leaving the dishes on the counter for seconds.
Youāve never felt so lucky, surrounded by the people you care about the most, eating warm, delicious food in a house made cozy and safe by unconditional love, and you make a mental note to make these dinners a weekly event.
#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm fanfiction#tasm peter parker#peter parker x reader#peter parker x you#peter parker#peter parker fanfiction
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SimĆ³n settled in the cushions of a cheap trailer home, staring down at a rug that had likely been planted on the floor so long that it now stuck to it thanks to the Oasis Springs heat. His thoughts churned of a past that he had so desperately clung to because she was part of that past. He was sure that seeing her again would give him some release, lure him into a contentment of what used to be but he found himself only thinking more about what could have been or maybe, what still can be.
He hoped that she would have changed. Made it easier for him. Slam the door in his face and shut him out, giving him the perfect excuse to move on, to let his memories remain memories instead of transforming into hopes.
Instead, she had done the opposite. She had welcomed him into her house and back into her life, without much hesitation at that. During their brief conversation he found that she had changed, he couldn't tell you exactly what had changed about her but it was enough to make her someone slightly different. She had put her trauma behind her...or maybe she had locked it up inside of her, either way, she was a stronger and better person now. That he could tell.
If only he had changed with her. In the end, he was the same guy in a new location. Just another lowly criminal doing a job he didn't want to do but one he needed to do.
He thought to get out, the trailer was cramped as it was and the heat, which seeped in despite AC, made staying inside uncomfortable. It was only slightly better outside there was at least fresh air and also a bright and energetic bark that put a smile on his face.
The rest of the trailer park might have been demotivating for others but for SimĆ³n it was exactly what he needed, it was change. Frida had told him that she would make her way to Simerica for that reason alone and he knew that if he were to find happiness it would only be due to change.
But only changing things that he could as he understood there would be no change to how he felt about Frida. He might have to win her heart all over again but he felt he was up to the task.
"Ziggy! What you been up to this morning, huh?" he calls out and gets a bark in reply along with the dog running up to him for more attention. He wasn't sure of the dogs breed but he was more than sure that it adored him and while he wasn't sure what the future held between him and Frida he had at least known that he had won the heart of this dog.
I feel like the more simoleons I make the more I need, or is it want? I'm not sure and perhaps the line is blurred. The recent surge of simoleons should make me feel content but then I think about how much I worked for what I have and how hard I worked and I begin to wonder if it is sustainable?
I could look for a job. Something a little more stable and certain? Maybe even look for a place seeking a line chef? It's an option, I suppose, but for now I'll focus on cooking for my own little stand. I make enough to pay rent but I do always want more.
My morning plan was more of the usual. A bit of cooking so that I can always keep my stand full, especially with waffles, but unfortunately I was going to need a new morning plan because the moment I turn on my waffle maker it pops, fizzes, and nearly explodes.
I sigh, calling a mechanic and pushing that plan to the side. Instead, tending my flower bushes since they are safe from exploding, at least I hope so.
I can't complain too much because I've found success in such a short time here, so much so that rent is no longer a looming presence. I'm not only able to pay it but I have a little left over to to add a pinch of flair to my home. Some hanging plants, art, and even a new television add some character to my living space. I find that I do like the finer things in life!
The surest way to more simoleons will be more delicious foods and now is the perfect time to debut tacos! I admit to being a little nervous, after all, people will see me and my stand and expect greatness from my tacos but I'm not quite sure they'll be at that level quite yet. Not only that but Oasis Springs has a pretty large Selvadoradian population who will also have their own expectations and I just hope to live up to them.
Despite my anxiousness I make sure I put my all into the process. Handling each step with care and the end result, I think, is a batch of tacos I can be proud of.
I'm not sure why I doubted tacos, never doubt tacos! I thought when I started that there might be some chance that I'll be able to have one myself, I usually take a plate of something left over after selling but there was literally nothing left.
I pulled in over 700 simoleons as a result and it was done pretty easily, if I might brag? Maybe the finer things in life are not so far away after all.
Being a content creator with a few fans paid well, well enough to where he could book a room at one of the more pricier places in Oasis Springs on a whim.
He wasn't going to be here long. Oasis Springs wasn't a huge city but it was nice enough to stay and probably better to live in and he felt it would be a nice detour before his usual annual summer trip in Del Sol Valley.
What he would do while here he didn't know but he was sure he could find some content in this dry desert town...
Episode List - Next
#The Sims#The Sims 4#ts4#Sims#Sims 4#sims legacy#my sims#generation 1#soot#sims of our time#frida varela#simon barrera#ziggy barrera#ray booker
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Some various tips about food that prove helpful to me when times are tough
Veggies you buy raw for eating with dips can be roasted when they are no longer crisp and delicious for dipping. Toss in olive oil, salt and pepper, and whatever other spices you like (cumin roasted cauliflower is my fav!) and roast 30-40 mins at 400, stirring once or twice (unsure if your particular veggie is good for roasting? give it a roast just to see. its better than tossing it)
meal shakes are your friend! a shake for a meal is better than no meal at all. my go-to is a high protein carnation instant breakfast in my afternoon coffee. its shelf stable (so it can live in my work bag or back pocket), nutrient dense, and turns my cofffee into a mocha
A handful of crackers and some juice is better than no dinner at all. If you know youre in a "food, bleh" place, get yourself some juice boxes and a favorite snack cracker. Some food, even "bad" food, is better than no food
speaking of, if you like French onion dip, try making it with greek yogurt (my fav is fage with hidden valley dill dip). it packs a lot of protein into a comfort food
(there is no such thing as bad food, btw. some food is more nutrient dense than others, but all food is good food that nourishes your body and fuels your brain. Eat the "bad" food)
((also also not eating makes your brain feel like shit. That baby sucks up soooo much of your daily caloric needs. Please feed your brain so you stop feeling like shit. Eat a snickers, youll hate life less))
a can of V-8 can go into so many broth based dishes. My go-to chili recipe is brown up some ground beef, drain it, then chuck two cans of chili beans and one mini can of v8 into the pot. Boom! food. Tomato pairs great with anything beef, adding a depth and acidity that makes other flavors sing. Plus the bonus veggies of a v8? Excellent
popcicles are an amazing way to keep fruit in the house. we're currently on an Outshine Pomegranate kick in this house. Yes, they can be pricey. But they dont rot out from under you waiting to be remembered. The cost of a popcicle that will keep til you eat it is worth more than the cheaper fruit you just throw away (bonus: the lime ones are great for halting anxiety spirals and panic attacks. cold + sour can help shock your brain out of its doom spiral)
frozen veggies can be chucked into a lot of things at the end of cooking. my go to is keeping a bag of frozen peas n carrots to toss in ramen, rice, and pot pies - plus they help cool the food down so i can eat it :P
finally, consider looping your friends into your eating habits. get a soup buddy you can swap leftovers with. ask your friends to help you remember to eat. A simple text or DM to remind you to eat might seem like a silly thing to ask for, but it offloads rhe burden of remembering and reminds me that im loved and cared for. its easier to dredge up the will to eat when i know someone loves me
take care of yourselves and remember that every victory, no matter how small, is a fucking victory!!! celebrate your successes, dont hoard your failures. You got this :)
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oh nuts. a life experience has given me a new layer of perspective on Cas's homosexual declaration of love to Dean.
recently I had occasion to tell a person I had feelings for them knowing full well they didn't feel even a twinge of the same thing for me. while the whole thing was a decidedly unpleasant experience, I kept laughing at myself internally bc I didn't want to say "the happiness is just in saying it" like fucking Castiel over here. (we don't need to talk about it, it's fine.) (I am happier having said it and it's kind of bullshit, but I digress.)
because the thing is, the happiness isn't in just saying it, right? the happiness is in the having. I made a whole TikTok "proving" that the Empty didn't come for Cas when he confessed his love, but rather when he realized Dean loved him back. even for Cas, the happiness was in the having, not in the saying, however brief it was.
and I've always been one of those people who rolled their eyes at the whole concept. why would the happiness be in just being, in just saying it, if it's right there in front of you to have. and then it hit me like a tonne of bricks (as I was washing my kitchen counters).
Cas really didn't think he could have Dean.
at all. in any capacity. he really, truly, and honestly felt to the depths of himself that Dean did not have any twinge of similar feelings, that this really was a Hail Mary shot-in-the-dark. and I think me, personally, really didn't understand that about Cas. that his belief in his love being unrequited was that unshakable.
something else I've been pondering is how audiences have so much more empathy for fictional characters who share traits that IRL they find objectionable and unappealing. but the thing is about fictional characters is that we follow them around in their most private, vulnerable moments. we see Dean mourning Cas when he dies, literally killing himself because he can't live without him, but it's so easy to forget that we're the omniscient ones here.
Cas never knew.
Dean's whole thing was pushing him away, keeping him at arm's length, making it seem like whatever heroic thing he does for Cas he'd do for anyone. he downplays how important it is for Dean to share the Deancave with him, to show him his favourite movies, share his favourite songs. he acts like the things Cas does for him don't mean that much to hide how much they do mean. he uses "we" whenever he even gets in the vicinity of expressing a feeling. "We were worried." "We're glad you're back." "We needed a win." "You're our brother." The audience knew the difference. We saw how he'd clench his jaw or swallow hard or make a face that said "God, I'm being such an idiot". Because we saw him in those little moments. We got to see the cracks in the mask.
but Cas never knew.
the self-hating angel of Thursday was never going to think it was all a way for Dean to protect himself. obviously, that's the delicious tragedy of it all, but what I think I realized at the end of all that is Cas confessing his love to a Dean who didn't love him back wouldn't have worked. Because the happiness really is in the having. If happiness was just in saying it, then The Empty would have come before Cas even finished getting the words out of his mouth.
so Cas's plan wouldn't have worked if Dean didn't love him back.
this is just me yapping on about my own nonsense, but I do think it's really interesting. there's contentment in "just saying it". there's freedom and relief and an unburdening. I think one can argue that it makes being happy in the being easier. there is certainly some joy in telling a person you think that highly of them. but true happiness?
nah.
true happiness is always going to only be in the having. Cas didn't understand the difference until he experienced it, and by then, it was too late.
#beautiful and poignant messages in the 2005 CW cult classic dark fantasy show supernatural that they did by accident#like they literally showed how wrong cas was to believe that happiness ISN'T in the having aaaand qed dean loved him back#spn meta#destiel meta#castiel meta#mine.txt#destiel#supernatural meta#spn#supernatural#meta#messy thoughts#lol sorry for the tmi but i needed the lead up okay#i'm fine i knew#i was very much cas in this situation no hope of any other outcome#only he was wrong lmao#I think the way Cas scrunches up his face after Dean's 'don't do this Cas' is almost like that bittersweet regret.#that 'oh. if only we had known this sooner. if only it wasn't too late now.'#AND IT'S A LOT YOU GUYS#i do wonder if cas wouldn't made a different plan with different information#personally i don't think he'd've gone out like that if he understood that dean loved him too#like he saw the love in his eyes. but part of me thinks it was relief that this didn't make dean hate him.#but sometimes it's just bad writing and we can't ascribe conscious thought to an out of character decision lol#but i think after everything cas would've fought for the thing he never thought he could have#which is why in my fix it fic wip that i'll finish someday cas is like okay well. gotta get outta here now and kiss my mute coconut lol#i love them so much
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Out of Time
Chapter 4 - "Eldest Son to Eldest Daughter"
an: I am so glad people are enjoying this story! I've been playing with this concept for nearly a year now. I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! I want to go ahead and put this out there. I have borderline personality disorder and quite a few other mental illnesses, so all of that influences relationships in my life, which is reflected a lot in this story. Also this is not canon Aegon. This is a version of Aegon that lives permanently in my head.
If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!
Find the series Master list here!
Summary: Being the eldest child of the Queen or King is a weight many did not understand. It is a weight that dictates her every choice, ruling her heart and mind. Aegon, understanding the feeling, gives her the gift of a connection she could not have with another person.
TW: Very blatant mental health struggles, Substance Use (I added š into this world cause it not being in there is unrealistic), talks of alcoholism, religious talk, mentions of injury, self image issues, bad parents, divorced parents, moon tea, Aegon is so in love with reader it makes me ache
Relationships: Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader, past Aegon Targaryen ii x Helaena Targaryen
Word count: 3.7k
When I woke up this morning, only to find Jace gone from my bed and a cup of moon tea on the table, all I wanted was to hide away from the world. But there was more to my life than just Jace and Aemond. I had others who loved me, who had missed me this entire time. With that in mind, I dressed for the day in a simple lilac colored dress, drank the tea in one quick gulp, and had Ser Erryk escort me to Helaenaās chambers.
Her and Aegonās children were with him for the morning. With both of them still happily in the Red Keep, I suppose it made sharing their childrenās time easier. Though I donāt believe there has been a situation such as this ever. Most marriages that ended in annulment happened because there werenāt children from my understanding. Though until now I had not known of anyone who had gotten an annulment.
āHow did my mother grant the end of your marriage?ā I couldnāt help but ask Helaena. We were working on our cross stitching together. It was an activity that soothed her and I was all the happier to make sure she was calm. āDoesnāt the Faith typically have to be in agreement? And I mean, you two had three children together, wouldnāt they just deny it?ā
Helaena chuckled. āI often times forget how little you and your brothers paid mind to the teachings of the Seven,ā she said to me.
Fair enough, I suppose. Technically speaking, we are followers of the Seven. Yet anyone with eyes knew that we only did it because we kind of had to. I donāt believe Mother or Laenor had any vested interest in their teachings. They certainly never passed anything on to us outside of the bare minimum. I know my fatherās family believed in the Seven, but since he was never allowed to claim us, he had no right to teach us his beliefs. In truth I only knew anything about them from Alicent.
āSo explain it to me as though Iām five,ā I said, shrugging a bit.
āIt is unholy to hold one in a marriage against their will. Aegon and I were so young when we were married, and it was done under the misguided notion that your mother and family may seek to squash any competition for the Throne, so it was not difficult to make a case for it to be an unlawful marriage. Though I do feel that Rhaenyra may have reminded the Septon that he can be and would be a delicious snack for Syrax should he not see reason,ā she told me. The smile that played at her lips as she thought of it was enough to make me smile.
āAnd what is it you wish to do now?ā I asked her.
āI am perfectly content to live my life here. I love my family, I love my home. Though I do wish my mother had bothered to ever understand me,ā she explained.
My smile fell from my lips. Time changed many things but Helaenaās distance from Alicent didnāt seem to be one. It was unfortunate, truly, as Helaena was wonderful. She may be more into bugs than most people, she may have her dreams and episodes, but she was not mad. In fact when actually making an effort to know her, one could find she was the opposite.
I had always wished I could see the world Helaena does. The world that I live in is dark and dreary, a place where one loses any semblance of a father before they even understand how great they are. It is a place where most everyone prefers men over women, despite the women being capable and strong in their own right. The world I live in? It is not a place built for Helaena.
Yet the one she lives in? People are praised for what they have done. There is no consideration other than who truly is right and just. Even in the darkest moments in which her mother tried to keep her from being who she is, my mother always gave safe passage to her sweet sister. Helaena paid no mind to those who were insignificant unless they hurt her family or her bugs.
It Is not to say she is naĆÆve. In fact, I would think she sees more truth than any of us. But being the third child, born after an eldest daughter and eldest son, is very different than being the eldest. She did not have to fight to prove she was worthy like Mother did. And she does not have to step away because she knows she would not be accepted over her brother as I doā¦
I was born approximately two hours before Jacaerys. A long time between twins as Iāve been told, but enough time there was no doubt about who came first. Truthfully to my mother I donāt think it mattered which of us was born before the other. We are twins and therefore she always gave us the choice.
She explained to me that her father had named her heir before he had any other living children and never looked back. Once Aegon was born, most expected Viserys to change his mind. But he remained steadfast in his decision, never caring if Mother still wanted it. To this day I donāt know if she did. As such, she wanted to make sure we always had a choice.
āYouāre doing it again,ā Helaena said softly.
When I looked to her, she nodded her head to my hands. I had been so completely lost in thought that I didnāt notice I had repeatedly pricked my fingers with the needle I was using. Blood seeped through the fabric in several dots scattered around.
āSorry,ā I muttered before sitting the cross stitch down. Standing, I walked over to the bowl of water that was kept for washing her hands and dunked my fingers in it a few times.
āOur mothers are planning a feast to celebrate your return,ā she told me as I turned back around. āI think it will happen weekās end.ā
Naturally. It seemed they always found a reason to celebrate me. On my name day, it was always me who got doted on. Jace got put in the shadows, not that he seemed to mind much though. When I claimed Vhaela, only a few weeks before I disappeared, it was a much brighter occasion than Aemond claiming Vhagar. When I returned to Kingās Landing, it overshadowed the tourney being held for Aegon to celebrate his own name day.
It was never my Intention, truly. Those around me just deemed me important. I had never wanted to be the center of attention. All I wanted was to do right by my family. Never have I sought out great fortune or the throne for myself, though technically it should be mine by birth order. All I craved was love.
āAre you happy?ā I asked her, trying to change the subject.
āYes. Aegon is a wonderful father, but he could never love me. And I do not love him,ā she told me.
Before I was given the chance to respond, the chamber doors opened. Helaenaās children ran to her. The twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, were nearing twelve at this point. They looked it, too. If you were to ask me, Jaehaera looked like Alicent but with the typical Targaryen silver hair and violet eyes. Jaehaerys and Maelor, who was nearing eight, were carbon copies of Helaena. They had the same curl to their hair as she did, their noses equally as small and rounded.
As the three children excitedly talked about their morning, I quietly excused myself from the room. While she would never say anything, there was not a place for me with Helaena and her children by myself. Those kids donāt remember me, though I remember Helaenaās every letter describing them in their early years. For both pregnancies, there was not a movement they made inside her that did not warrant a letter to me. But that was then.
In the corridor, Aegon stood and spoke with Ser Erryk. Erryk had a twin too, named Arryk. From what I remembered, Arryk and Aegon were quite close, the former taking on the watching over of the latter once Aegon hit puberty.
āBeautiful kids,ā I said to him, offering a small smile. When he looked to me and smiled, I couldnāt help but blush a deep red.
āThankfully they take more after Helaena,ā he said to me. He stepped closer to me, extending a hand to rest under my chin. I swallowed hard as he tilted my face around in the light. āYou should perhaps be more careful.ā
āI shall keep that in mind,ā I said, unable to hide my chuckle.
āWhere are you headed to? I could join you,ā he suggested as he offered his arm to me to take, dropping his hand from my chin.
āI was just going to head back to my room. Truly, Aegon, there is no need to bother yourself,ā I told him.
āMy darling, there is never a bother when it comes to you.ā His voice was light and airy, as though the words he spoke were just the most casual thing in the world. But there was a firmness to them that I truly believe only he could accomplish.
It wasnāt so much a demand. He was not like Aemond, demanding and sure of himself. He was not like Jace, either, in being soft and guiding always. Aegon was something entirely different.
He had always seemed arrogant. He was the first born son so it was natural that he grew into believing he deserved everything he wanted. But only when you spoke to him when everything else was quiet did you ever get the truth.
He had never been much more than a scared little boy. There were frequent talks of what he feared would happen when Viserys had died. He had always been scared his mother would try to force him to take the Throne. When he was betrothed to Helaena, he was scared he wouldnāt be good enough for her. He was scared that I would grow to hate him, completely ignoring that I could never hate him.
The closeness I shared with Aegon was something that bordered on secretive. While it wasnāt that we felt the need to hide, as there truly was never anything to hide, it was what made him comfortable. He would come to me late at night when he could not sleep. I think it is when he felt safest. Even when we were children he preferred the night.
It was in the night that he saw beauty in his life. He didnāt struggle as much then to resist drinking, which had always seemed backwards to me but he swore it. The pressures that were placed upon him from Otto and Alicent didnāt exist at night. The person he truly is was enough for the shadows of darkness.
Perhaps it is my own cockiness but I like to think I see a side to him that others donāt. When we were alone I got to hear him sing. I donāt think anyone else knew he liked to sing let alone how good he was at it. The first time he ever sang me a song that he had picked up in a tavern, tears sprang to my eyes. And when he isnāt drunk, he is quite smart. He knows politics even better than Aemond. He knows how to get people to like him and trust him, a rare commodity in this world.
And if Helaena says he is a wonderful father, I have no doubt about it. I remember him writing to me the first time Helaena was pregnant. He was so happy and excited, determined to be better to his children than Viserys ever had been to him. When I had come back to Kingās Landing, while he still struggled with the drink, he was so devoted to making sure they didnāt see it.
āI would be glad to have you along,ā I said, smiling at him. Though I didnāt take his arm. He merely nodded at me and followed me, allowing me to set the pace in which we walked.
As we walked, we walked in silence. Our footsteps echoed off the stone walls, the small ching and squeak of Ser Errykās armor followed behind us. I was perfectly comfortable.
We got to my room in just a few minutes as it wasnāt far from Helaenaās. Ser Erryk took his place beside my door. I gave him a small smile and nod before leading Aegon into my room.
He took a seat in a chair in front of the fireplace. He seemed like maybe he ran cold, always choosing to sit close to fires or walking around wrapped in a blanket. I was like that too, of course, much to the hatred of Jace when we shared a room still.
āI am happy to see you home, have you need of anything?ā he asked me when I sat in the chair next to his.
āI merely wish there was something I could take for the pain that wasnāt milk of the poppy. The way it muddled your fatherās mind has made me certain I will never use it,ā I told him simply.
He nodded softly and reached his right hand up his left sleeve. āIn case you have not been told, I want you to know I am sober now. Have not had a sip of wine since the night you disappeared,ā he told me.
āAeg, thatās amazing. I am so proud of you,ā I said as my heart felt like it was going to burst.
Truly I donāt think he had ever stood a chance against being a drunkard. Mother told me a long time ago how Viserys was giving Aegon wine by his second nameday. I never could understand why Alicent was so okay with that, especially because for my entire life she had yelled at him for being drunk. Like the night Aemond lost his eye, Aegon got blamed for not protecting him because even at thirteen he went and got so drunk he passed out on the steps. How on earth did she go from so passively allowing him to drink when he was a baby to being so vile about his problem?
He looked at me, his face saddened for a split second before he grinned and pulled out a pouch. āThe Grand Maester told me to use this. Itās hemp. Mostly used for creating things, building and whatnot. But someone at the Citadel found if you consume it, it gives you what they call a high. But it is gentler on the health than being drunk. Iām not sure the process but they cook it into butter and then can bake it into things.ā
He opened the pouch and pulled out a biscuit the size of his palm. He split it in two and offered me half. It didnāt look abnormal or smell any different. The biscuit looked very appetizing though.
āDo I just eat it?ā I asked him, raising an eyebrow.
āYes. But start slow. Too much at once and youāll be completely incapacitated. Just a small bit should help your anguish, both physically and mentally,ā he explained. āIt will not be immediate like milk of the poppy. But it will be effective.ā
Cautiously, I took a bite, eating on a quarter of my half. This was something I would never have done on my own. Yet Aegon had never truly steered me wrong, always seeming to have my best interests at heart.
After he took his own bite, eating a little more than I did, a silence fell between us as he just watched the flames. Aegon sometimes seemed like he wished that the world would open and swallow him whole. The way he would avoid looking at me, or anyone for that matter, spoke volumes about how uncomfortable he was even if nobody else realized it.
I remember once he told me that if he didnāt look at people he could convince himself they werenāt looking at him. When I tried to point out that wasnāt right he just put his hand over my mouth so that I couldnāt. It was that moment I realized how alike he and I are.
I escaped the duties of being Motherās eldest child by pretending I wasnāt. Stepping aside so that Jace could be heir and acting as though I was okay with it was the biggest way I accomplished this. If I were honest, I wanted to be Queen, not Queen Consort. Hiding that fact from everyone, including my twin, repeatedly affirming his place as the next King essentially robbed me of a piece of my identity and forced me into a new one. One in which I was meant to stand by his side and have his children.
Aegon liked to hide from being the eldest son by pretending he didnāt exist. He didnāt just refuse those duties. He simply treated them as though they werenāt real. He used to disappear rather frequently for a few days at a time, only to be found in a tavern or a brothel and dragged back to the Keep. He had always been so drunk he never remembered his time there.
āI missed you,ā he said quietly. āI know you never felt for me the way you did Jacaerys, or even Aemond. But you are probably the only woman Iāve ever loved.ā
He didnāt look at me when he said it which made me wonder why he did. It seemed silly to me how badly I wanted him to look at me. My entire life I felt like I had been begging Aegon to look at me.
He was right, I never felt for him the way I did Jace or Aemond. But he was the first person that ever made me blush. He was the first person who I considered marrying for any reason. He was my first crush and I think that for a lot of people that was a pretty sacred role.
I wanted a dragon so badly because of his relationship to his own dragon, Sunfyre. I donāt remember exactly when they came together, only that Aegon claimed Sunfyre just as I claimed Vhaela. And they were a sight to see together, having potentially the strongest bond of any dragon and rider. I swear Aegon could be hundreds of leagues from Sunfyre, merely think of needing him, and Sunfyre would go there without a second thought.
There was also the fact that they were very beautiful together. Sunfyre was perhaps the most beautiful dragon to ever exist. His scales were a dazzling, glittering gold while his belly and wing membranes for a soft pink. When he stood tall, he looked like a perfect golden statue.
Aegon was the epitome of Targaryen beauty. His silver blonde hair was not as long as Aemondās, but was chin length and began curling near the end. He had the classic Valyrian lilac eyes that sparkled in the firelight. He had a square jawline and lips fuller than Aemondās. He was about five inches taller than me, and therefore Jace since he was my height, at about five foot ten, and just two inches shorter than Aemond.
He truly was a beautiful mixture of Jace and Aemond. His eyes, hair, and eyes were soft in such a way they drew me in. Yet his jawline was sharp like he was chiseled in stone. One could argue all the gods in the universe came together to create the perfect man in him.
I became very aware I was staring at his lips. My cheeks became hot as the blood rushed to them. He turned to look at me, a small goofy smile on his face when he saw me looking. It caused my cheeks to become even hotter.
āYouāve been staring for quite a while, how are you feeling?ā he asked me.
āFine,ā I said as I shrugged.
My feet didnāt quite feel right though. Like they didnāt really exist but they do exist. He chuckled at something, Iām guessing my face, and I could feel a giggle bubbling up in my chest.
āOh you feel it,ā he told me, grinning.
āYouāre pretty,ā I whispered, leaning towards him. āHave I ever told you that?ā
āPretty?ā he asked.
Slowly, I nodded. He was pretty. But not the way Mother or Helaena was pretty in an elegant and sophisticated way. He was the type of pretty like fire. One that was dangerous and wild, where I couldnāt quite guarantee I would make it out alive.
āYouāre pretty, too,ā he told me quietly.
I think he was the only one to ever call me pretty. Aemond called me beautiful and Jace called me perfect, yet never pretty. Except the times they called me pretty during sex, that is. Being pretty in the mundane was something special to me. It was like I was a flower or even a star.
He reached out and took my hand. We sat in silence for a while. There was no way I could tell how long we sat there, just looking at each other while saying nothing. It felt nice in a way I could not explain.
āMy darling pretty girl,ā he whispered, rubbing the back of my hand with his thumb. āHow is your pain?ā
āBetter, thank you, Aegon,ā I whispered.
My heart was light in my chest. It fluttered rapidly, my cheeks heating up once again. He was looking at me like I was precious to him.
He stood from the chair, moving to stand in front of me. The flutters turned to a steady pounding. It was beating in my ears loudly. Aegon didnāt say anything before he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose, something that he had done when we were kids.
āI will ask the Maesters to prepare you the same biscuits. I do not like to think of you in pain,ā he whispered to me. āAnd it may help if your thoughts get to be too much.ā
Without saying another word, he took his leave. He walked out of the room, leaving me to sit alone with only my thoughts of him.
#dividers by benkeibear#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen x reader#helaena targaryen#mental illness in fiction#out of time
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Designs of Happiness - Track A22
L4mps Main Story Translation
Title: Secret Diary Exchange
Characters: Yodaka, Nagi, Netaro, Toi, Daniel
Summary: The protagonist and co. visit the morning market to get some souvenirs for everyone. However, they need to do some damage control due to the crowds forming from the narrow and blocked passagewaysā¦Ā
Thank you aca @/463ce6, myun @/myuntachis Niri @/Niri_riri and jes @/arcanecrayonn for helping me with proofing!
Location: Hakodate Free Market
Momiji: The morning market sure is lively, huh!
Yodaka: It seems that even the local chefs come here to get their ingredients. That goes to show what an excellent marketplace this is.
Yodaka: We should get some souvenirs for Danny and Toi.
Momiji: Leaving aside the Manager, who couldnāt even be bothered to wake up, I hope Toi-kun feels better soonā¦Ā Ā
Nagi: *sniffing* Huh, I smell something good, itās making me hungry.Ā
Netaro: Look over there! It seems theyāre selling this āfish bone brothā along with a helping of rice!Ā
*Nagi moves away from Netaro*
Nagi: ā¦ā¦Ā
Momiji: You mean fish bone soup. Along with Hakodateās specialty squids, you can also buy portions of sashimi and salmon roe here, and even share it with others!Ā
Yodaka: So you can enjoy fresh seafood on the spot? That is a lovely service for the tourists to enjoy.
Momiji: Yes! Itās worth observing together later!
Momiji: (At least, thatās what Iād like to do, butā¦)
Tourist A: Hmm, this aisle is too narrow, isnāt itā¦?
Tourist B: That just goes to show how popular this market is, packed with all these goods, butā¦
Tourist C: Which store is this queue for? I donāt knooooww.
Tourist D: Kazuo! Watch your step, or youāll trip over those boxes!Ā
Momiji: (The path is blocked by tourists and piles of boxed goodsā¦ Alright, itās time to get into work modeā¦!)
~~~(Hospitality Battle)
Momiji: Good, we managed to tidy up some of these goods while providing hospitality! This should make it easier for all the tourists to travel through the area!
Yodaka: Oh? It seems weāve lost sight of Netaro.Ā
Nagi: Ah, he ran ahead to the squid-fishing corner.
Yodaka: Myā¦ He seems to possess an odd innocence about him, almost as if he were a child.Ā
Yodaka: When I think about how I, too, must have been at that age, I canāt help but feel nostalgiā kh.
*ringing noise*
Momiji: (Huh? Yodaka-san is rubbing between his browsā¦)
Momiji: Whatās wrong? Are you alright?
Yodaka: ā¦My apologies, it seems I was suddenly overcome by a headache.
Nagi: Oh, do you need to rest?
Yodaka: Itās alright, this happens often. More importantly, I wonder if ten will suffice.
Momiji: Ten of what?Ā
Yodaka: Crabs. It seems like theyāll deliver them in a cooler box. To our friends back in HAMA House, that is.
Momiji: Whaā But those are Red King crabsā¦Ā
Nagi: Just one of those costs about half a monthās worth of food for meā¦Ā
Yodaka: Oh, the scallops look delicious as well. Miss, Iād like to buy 30 of these. Perhaps I should also get some squid and salmon and have Yukikaze prepare a seafood hot pot.Ā
Momiji: A-Are you sure itās okay to buy so much?
Yodaka: Hm? Well, the place is full of growing young men. Donāt worry, Iām sure there wonāt be any leftovers.
Momiji: (How dandy of himā¦!)
Momiji: L-Let me help you! What will you be doing, Nagi-kun?Ā
Nagi: Ohā¦ Iād like to help too, but thereās a shop Iāve been meaning to visitā¦Ā
Momiji: Got it. Iāll see you later!Ā
~~~
Nagi: Excuse me, Iād like those roses, sprigs of lavender, wisteria and azalea.
Nagi: Yes. Please send all of these to the hotel addressed here. Thank you very muchā¦Ā
Nagi: (Okayā¦ I managed to secure more flowers to give away. These should last me for the rest of the trip.)
Nagi: Hm?
Netaro: Nyam nyam. Haa~ Every bead of this salmon roe has such elasticity!
Nagi: (Netaroās eating at the food court, all aloneā¦)
Nagi: ā¦ā¦.Ā
Netaro: It truly feels as though Iām consuming life itself. Iām certain this is what it would taste like. And then there is this crab fish bone broth!Ā
Nagi: ā¦ā¦Ā
Netaro: Fish bone brothā¦ Or was it fish bone soup? Hmā¦ Iām not certain...Ā
Nagi: Fish bone soup.Ā
Netaro: ! Gii!
Nagi: ā¦I wanted to check on you.Ā
Netaro: You. Werenāt you avoiding me because you were traumatized?Ā
Nagi: Ugh.
Netaro: Are you not afraid anymore?Ā
Nagi: ā¦No, Iām still scared.
Nagi: ā¦I could have just ignored you, butāĀ
Nagi: I thought that maybe youāve been alone all this time, so I decided against it.Ā
Netaro: ā¦Hm?
Nagi: Being so far away from your homeā¦ Well, I donāt know how far, but seeing you eating salmon roe all alone, with no friends or family here on Earthā¦Ā
Nagi: ā¦I figured you might be feeling lonely.
Netaro: āLonely.ā
Nagi: Yeah. Sometimes you feel lonely when you think about your family or friends, right?
Netaro: Friendsā¦Ā
Netaro: Ohh~! The squid at the fishing corner looked exactly like my superior, it was hilarious! I couldnāt bring myself to eat it, in the end.
Nagi: Oh, uhā¦ Is that soā¦Ā
Netaro: Why would you become ālonelyā when you think of family or friends?
Nagi: Huh, do aliens not understand what that feels like? Maybe thereās a fundamental difference hereā¦Ā
Netaro: ā¦ā¦Ā
~~~(flashback)
Boy: Netaroā¦ Do you simply not feel lonely? If thatās the case, you probably wonāt understandā¦Ā
~~~(end flashback)
Location: Hakodate Free Market
Netaro: ā¦ā¦Ā
Nagi: Netaro?
Netaro: Humans feel lonely when they are alone, yes? There was a human who taught me that before.Ā
Nagi: Yeah. Being alone is unfortunate, and makes you feel lonely.Ā
Nagi: Even though thereās all this tasty salmon roe here, not having anyone to share it with would be unfortunate.
Nagi: Having someone with you all the time will double your happinessā
Netaro: Double!? What logic is at play here!?
Nagi: If youāre together, then sad things are halvedā¦!
Netaro: On what basis!?
Nagi: Being able to share your life with someone else is when you can feel happiness for the first time. Iām sure. Probably. No, thatās definitely the case. I guarantee it.
Netaro: What a profound mystery!
Nagi: You havenāt been here that long, after all. As a representative of earth, I should help teach you this stuff.
Netaro: How reliable! Thank you!
Nagi: (Huh? I think Iām not scared anymoreā¦)
Nagi: (Netaro feels more like some innocent kid now.)
Momiji: Whatās got you so excited?
Nagi: Ah, Chief.
Netaro: Gii was teaching me how being alone is unfortunate, and lonely.
Momiji: W-Woah, thatās a pretty serious topic, huhā¦Ā
Nagi: Oh, um, not reallyā¦Ā
Momiji: Hmm, well, thereās many different ways to live your lifeā¦ But to put it simply, Iād say thatās true.Ā
Netaro: Mmm, I want to learn more!Ā
Momiji: Oh, Yodaka-sanās here now. If youāre done eating, letās leave too.
Nagi: Okay.
Netaro: ā¦Gii, youā
Netaro: You too, say the same things that he did.Ā
~~~
Toi: Uughā¦ *sniffling*
Location: Hakodate - Hotel Room
Toi: (Iāve been doing the diary exchange all this time, butā¦)
Toi: (I wonder how many times Iāve cried over Aa-chamaās replies nowā¦)
Toi: *sniffling*
*sound of pages flipping*
Toi: āWhy is Ani-sama avoiding me?ā
āPerhaps he believes his life will be curtailed were he to remain with you.ā
āHowever, just as one cannot replace their blood, it is a futile effort.ā
āShall I lend you my power?ā
Toi: ā¦ā¦Ā
Toi: If I borrow Aa-chamaās power, will Ani-sama return to meā¦? Will he never leave my side againā¦?
Toi: ā¦ā¦Ā
Location: Hakodate - Hotel Lounge
Daniel: PT~ Lookie here!
??: āNyaaā
Daniel: Thereās a good kitty, Iāll be home soon, okay? Be good and wait for me~
Momiji: Daniel-san, what are youā¦ Oh! PT!
Momiji: Youāre looking at the pet camera feed, huh. Nayuki is looking after her, right?
Daniel: Yeah. But lookinā at this just makes me wanna get home sooner!
Yodaka: So the little one we see around HAMA House is Dannyās cat?
Netaro: There was a cat!? Iād like to pet it!Ā
Nagi: Me too. Getting scratched is not a problem for me.
Daniel: Why are you so sure youāre gonna get scratchedā¦
Daniel: PT is the cutest cat in the whole wide world! Iāll introduce ya when we get back.
Momiji: Iām sure Shuumai will sulk if PT gets all the attention.
Netaro: That green peas never comes near me any moreā¦Ā
Momiji: (I do remember Shuumai barking up a storm when Netaro first showed upā¦)
Yodaka: That reminds me, what are we doing for dinner tonight?Ā
Momiji: Oh, we hadnāt decided yet, huh.
Momiji: The hotelās buffet requires a reservation soā¦ Weād have to eat at the restaurant below, or eat outsideā¦Ā
Toi: Daimon Yokocho.
Momiji: Woah, you surprised me, Toi.
Toi: Our destination is Daimon Yokocho.
Momiji: Huh?
Netaro: Toi~ Youāve awoken?
Toi: ā¦Silence.Ā
Toi: On your feet. We shall meet outside.
Momiji: (He just leftā¦)
Netaro: ā¦ā¦Ā
Daniel: Whaā Whatās up with him? Something seems offā¦Ā
Momiji: I was thinking the sameā¦ Is it because of what happened with Ryui-kunā¦?
Yodaka: Is this the answer he came to, beyond his depression?
Daniel: I donāt really know about kids these days.
Nagi: ā¦ā¦Changing how you speak, suddenly becoming distantā¦Ā
Nagi: *gasp*
Nagi: Maybe heās at that ageā¦Ā
Yodaka: Are you talking aboutā¦?
Daniel: Ahā¦ You mean the type to look at a stormy sky all serious and go āitās comingā¦ā
Nagi: Wrapping their arms in bandagesā¦Ā
Momiji: Aw, cāmon, Toi-kunās actually a year older than you, you know?Ā
Daniel: Well, this kinda stuff depends on the person.
Netaro: I have absolutely no clue what this conversation is about.Ā
Yodaka: Weāre talking about how we should go along with Toiās change in attitude, Netaro.
Netaro: I see!Ā
Nagi: When he goes back to normal, forget everything. Just pretend like nothing ever happened.
Daniel: Thatās the perfect attitude to have as an adult.
Momiji: Alright, letās go with that.Ā
Momiji: (Iām worried about Toi-kunā¦ We should find Ryui-kun quickly so that he can return back to normalā¦!)
Note:
The Hakodate Daimon Yokocho is the largest food stall village in Hokkaido.
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#18trip#18tlip#18trip translation#l4mps#18trip main story translation#l4mps main story#nagi hachinoya#hachinoya nagi#netaro yowa#toi shiramitsu#yodaka natsume#momiji hamasaki#kaede hamasaki#Nagi is too nice for his own good#He knows how it feels to be lonely so he wants to help netaro even if he was literally traumatized the previous day#best rep for humanity indeed
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