#all models: jobless

[mayspicer]

Girl help I really need to do the test tasks for a new job or else my life is gonna get very bad real soon, but all I want to do is draw ttrpg characters.

[patrophthia]

how you get the girl | regulus black

pairing: CFO!regulus black x best friend!reader

genre: fluff, song fic, love confession under the rain, more fluffffff, muggle CFO!au where the marauders all work together, regulus being babied (as he should) golden retriever reg, not beta read

wc: 1.7k?

this is request ! thank u for sending it in, i know this is a month late but here it is anyways!!

Working for the Black brothers had its perks, you’re well paid, you get to travel quite often for work, you’ve met tons of celebrities due to your line of work, and most importantly, you get to put them in their place —though you call this the best friend privilege. 

Talk about a work life balance. 

Black was at its highest peak when Regulus’ father passed away, leaving his two sons to step in and do the job as the CEO and CFO of their family’s luxury brand. 

Their positions were set in stone, Sirius will be leading the company as a CEO and Regulus will be by his side as the CFO. And Sirius, with the amount of power he has, was quick to think of you when it came to choosing an assistant for his brother. 

Because —and this was his logic— if you’ve tolerated being friends with him for as long as you’ve had, you’d be able to handle his princess attitude when it came to work. 

And seeing as you were quite literally jobless at the time, the prospect of working for/with (the lines between those two were thin) your best friend did not seem bad at all. 

“Where are you going?” 

You turn back to the owner of the voice, Regulus lingering by his office’s door. “To grab a snack.” 

“It’s dinner time,” he says, as if he’s only remembering it now. 

“Yeah smart ass,” you fix him a look. “That’s why I’m going to grab a snack.” 

Regulus doesn’t look all too pleased, “wait here.”

You contemplate doing as you’re told or just heading towards one of the vending machines so you could get back to work. 

Regulus comes back out, his coat, and yours, in hand as he picks up your purse. He makes his way towards you, helping you into your coat despite your confused stare before slipping his own on. “We’re going to dinner.” 

“Are you paying?” You were a simple person. A free meal is a free meal. So when Regulus nods, you smile at him. “Let’s go.” 

The two of you begin walking towards the elevator, a few employees bidding goodbyes and good nights here and there. “Have you thought about it?”

“About?” Regulus murmurs, unsure of what you’re trying to say. 

“That girl?” You say in a questioning tone, a bit muddled by his cluelessness. “The one Sirius said you liked?” 

Sirius and his constantly running mouth. Why did Regulus ever tell his brother that he had his eyes set on someone he’d never understand. He made a stupid decision and now he has to face its consequences.  

“Oh.” He says as if he’s only remembering it now, as if that ‘girl’ wasn’t standing besides him as he attempts to take her out to dinner. “What about her?” 

You turn to look at him and Regulus can’t help but turn to meet your eyes in return. “Have you thought about how you’d get the girl?” 

“Not really.” The elevator dings, the door opens and you were quickly greeted by James who was not only a friend of Sirius but a model who was married to one of Black’s most well known designers. “Should I have?” 

“Should you have what?” James asks. 

You turn to James. “Think about how he’d get the girl.” 

“Oh really?” He says in a knowing tone. “Well isn’t this exciting?” 

“Don’t start Potter,” Regulus clearly annoyed, the amused smiles on the other two occupying the elevator not missed by him. “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you be home with Harry?” 

“Don’t try to change the topic,” James says with a slight frown. “You know I could always give your advice, right?” 

Begrudgingly, Regulus nods. “Yes.” 

You grin, finding the situation more than entertaining. Ever since Regulus stepped up as the CFO in a company where most of his brother’s friends worked at, he was more often than not, babied. And you can’t help but find it a bit adorable. 

“Good,” James says. The elevator door dings again, signalling that they’ve finally made it to their destination. “Now give the lady her purse back.” 

It was only then you’d realised that you never took your stuff off of Regulus’ hands, him having held onto it without a single complaint. 

“Are you going to dinner?” A nod from the both of you had James stepping out of the elevator. “Have fun on your date!” 

There’s no point in correcting him, it has happened a hundred times by now. Whenever you and Regulus had plans, the Marauders — a team consisting of the CEO, two models (James and Remus), and one designer, never failed to call it a date. 

You meet Reg’s eyes with a small smile. “Shall we get started on our date?” 

Regulus fiddles with your bag still in his hand. A bag he’d asked Lily to design specifically for you. He returns your smile. “Lead the way.” 

Half a year of —what Sirius had called mindless pining later, Regulus finally caved in and went to his brother’s only married friend for advice. 

Once he heard James’ ‘advice’ he wishes more than anything to forget everything he’d said, and to not even attempt it had it not been Lily and Dorcas saying that it worked on them. 

Marlene had used the same methods as James to get the girl. So if it had worked twice then surely it would work again, right? 

Step one should in theory be easy. Rain was romantic, or at least it ideally is (as seen in chick flick), so ultimately, a confession under the pouring rain should do the trick. 

“You’re going to stand there and you’re going to tell her how you feel,” James says sternly. “You’re going to tell her what you want. That’s how you get the girl.” 

For some reason he doesn’t really believe him. But Sirius is patting him encouragingly on the back so he lets the fantasy of being swept away during a rainstorm mid confession fade away.  

He was going to make this work. 

The weather forecast was right. Today would be a rainy night, not too harsh but not a sprinkling either, it was perfect for him to try to win you over. Or at least try to. 

You were quick to open your door, not wasting a single second after him having rang your bell. “Regulus?” You ask, and when he doesn’t make the move to come in during the pouring rain, you follow up. “What are you doing? Get in.” 

The rain is now drenching his very expensive shoes. The droplets are cold, the wind is harsh, he was going pale, practically shivering but he was not going to give up so soon. “I need to talk to you,” he says, not moving an inch. 

“Yeah we can do that in here,” you say, clearly concerned for your friend. “Are you insane?” 

Regulus shakes his head, and you decide you’ve had enough, stepping into your home to grab an umbrella before running towards him, you quickly pull him into your house —not without reprimanding him. 

“What were you thinking?” You scold. “What’s so important you have to talk to me right now? In the pouring rain too.” 

Regulus finds that he likes it better when you’re like this. When you’ve yelling at him as you wrap a towel around him. This was why he loved you, you cared for him in every way that is nowhere near artificial. And he’s known that for a while now. So it was about time he did something about it. 

“I love you.” 

You pause in your step. Regulus assumes that you were on your way to find him something to change into based on your direction. You resume your way into your bedroom where a set of spare pyjamas were reserved for Regulus. Muttering about how much of an idiot he was on the way. 

You return soon after, pyjamas in hand. “Go shower, change. Then we’ll talk.” 

Again, Regulus finds himself being babied, this time though, instead of being babied by his brother and his friends, he was being babied by you. And he doesn’t think he minds it all too much. 

You sit him down at your vanity when he was done, a hand reaching for your hair dryer. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” you tell him after a while, your hand roaming around his curls as you attempt to dry it. “It’s not funny.”

Bewilderedly, Regulus says. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.” 

“Really?” You laugh dryly. You then tsked, going over your words. “Then what about that girl? From a few months back?” 

“That was you,” he says after a beat. “It’s always been you.” 

You pull your hands away from him, setting the hairdryer down as you look at him, settling yourself on your vanity. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” 

He doesn’t fully understand what was going on but based on your words, and what he considers context clues, you might just reciprocate his feelings. “Because, I didn’t know how to.” 

You purse your lips. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” 

“And it won’t,” Regulus says, cautiously reaching for your hand. You let him take it. “I want you for better or for worse and if you’re scared what might happen between us ruining our friendship then we can take it slow, I’d wait forever and ever for this.” 

Black family and their flair for dramatics, huh?

“Okay, let’s do this.” You take a deep breath. “Only if you promise me one thing though.” 

Regulus brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss on it. “Anything.” 

“Don’t do that again,” you tell him. “I’m not going to work for you if you have a massive cold, let alone kiss you.” 

“I promise,” Regulus says, smiling. “Now can I kiss you?” 

You nod, pushing yourself off of the vanity and closer to him, Regulus places a careful hand on your waist and pulls you in, just a second before your lips touch you hear a sniffle, and then, inevitably, Regulus shifts to his side, sneezing loudly. 

When he looks back at you, his nose is red, his lips are prominent pout as he processes the fact that you won’t be kissing anytime soon. 

You pat his cheeks (or cheekbones really). “Next time,” you tell him. “If you’ve waited half a year to tell me you love me then you can wait a week to kiss me.”

—from bee: i wrote this at 2am im tired help

[chocolatechubby]

Bernie's Big & Tall

By Fatbrwncub

(posted with the permission of the Author)

The biggest problem--excuse me while I finish this last bite of cruller--is where to begin. It all seems to have happened so fast. One minute I'm standing in the unemployment line, trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from; the next thing you know, I'm getting the doors in my apartment widened so that I can get through. Oops! There goes another button.

Let me go back to the beginning--back to that unemployment line. My lover and I had been having problems making ends meet. There wasn't a great deal of a demand for my particular line of work in the winter---I was a lifeguard. At 6' 2" and 180 pounds, I cut a muscular frame, but everyone looks pretty much the same bundled up in parkas. My old job at the "Y" would probably have hired me back, but the pay stunk. And with a new lover, Sean, I had another mouth to consider. Sean suggested that I try modeling --his chosen profession, but as gorgeous as he was, he wasn't getting much work either. Why should we both be jobless cover boys? So, I headed to the unemployment office. Maybe something there would turn things around. Little did I know how right I was.

The place was depressing. Fluorescent light and peeling yellow walls covered everything like a moldy blanket. Cheap plastic chairs were set up for clients to wait for their turn to be humiliated by the next available counselor: "You'll have to take forms 2 thru 26 to windows 5 thru 14. Fill out lines A thru F on forms 30, 31, & 45; have them notarized and come back to me.... THEN I can tell you where the rest rooms are." As much as I needed the money, I wasn't up for that kind of run around. The YMCA was looking really good at that moment. As I got up to leave, I noticed the chair next to me quiver ever so slightly--as if a tremor were going through the building. The little table next to it was moving too. Now being hundreds of miles away from California, I knew it couldn't possibly be an earthquake. I was wrong. It was indeed an earthquake in human form. From around one of the peeling yellow corners, came the largest guys I had ever seen. His stomach seemed to go on forever, riding over his belt and spilling onto his massive underbelly like a tidal wave. Each of his labored steps made it quiver and roll. His arms, chest, and shoulders were so large that he had to twist his body slightly to maneuver the corner, yet each movement had an elephantine grace that was something to see. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that must have been tailor-made for him: it hung gracefully on his gargantuan figure. He was quite handsome, dusty blonde hair and neatly trimmed beard, and the bluest eyes. Growing up, the party queens I hung with always made fun of fat guys. Somehow, I always found something vaguely attractive about men with extra meat on their bones. I absent-mindedly rubbed my stomach as I watched him make his way to a Job Resource bulletin board on the other side of the room. He scanned the whole area carefully--deep in concentration, he seemed to be looking for someone. When his eyes met mine, his mood abruptly changed. His full round mouth had a slight smile on it as he zeroed in on me. I got the feeling he was studying me-not in that "cruisey" way, but as if he were trying to figure me out. He, raised a sausage-like finger, and motioned me over to him. For some reason, I wasn't taken aback at all. Something about him seemed so familiar. "Looking for a job?", he said. "Kinda", I replied. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a candy bar and a folded piece of green paper. "Wanna bite?", He asked. "No thanks…", I replied "…but I could use work." He unfolded the piece of paper and tacked it on the bulletin board, smudging it slightly with the chocolate from his fingers. "Well then, you might wanna check this out." With that, he took a large bite of candy bar, turned around, and began lumbering back down the hallway. I was about to say something when he stopped and turned around again (no easy feat for a man his size). "How old are you?", he asked. Slightly startled by his abrupt departure, I blurted out "29." Before I could ask him why it mattered, he patted his mountain of a stomach and smiled a knowing smile: "Same age as I was when I started at BB&T. See ya' around Danny!" And with that, he and his tremors were gone.

BB&T? I looked at the piece of paper for a moment. I took it down from the board and began studying it--trying to make it tell me more about the big, mysterious stranger. But all it did was sit in my hand and smell of Hershey's. The only writing was a quickly scribbled address and telephone number: "Bernie's Big and Tall-525-BIGG. The chocolate had formed a ring around the writing so that it looked like a halo. I laughed at the idea of working in a big men's shop, but hell, I needed work badly. Besides, something inside me started recalling the times when I'd been oddly aroused by the large men who were the butt of my friends' jokes. Maybe by working there, I could discover what the attraction was all about. I walked over towards the pay phone in the corner chuckling to myself. That's when it struck me that he'd called me by my name-Danny. Did I know him? He really did look familiar....

The phone rang ten times before someone answered at Bernie's. When someone did pick up, they were so out of breath I had to wait a couple seconds for a "hello". Then I remembered what type of establishment this was---all the employees probably looked like the guy I'd just met. Well, if for no other reason, they could hire me to answer the telephone. I smiled. It turned out to be Bernie himself on the line. Before I had a chance to say "Hello", or introduce myself, Bernie cheerfully announced: "Danny! Joe said you'd be calling! When can you start?" I was stunned. I stammered out, "B-but you don't even know me!" "I don't have to!" was his amiable reply. "Anybody that Joe picks will work out fine!" I didn't have the guts to tell him that I had no idea who the hell "Joe" was, but then maybe he was an old friend of my family's. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially from such a large horse!

Bernie's Big and Tall was in a little strip mall just outside of the city. It took me two maps and three detours to find it. I almost gave up, but something told me to keep looking. A small card shop on one side and a bakery on the other flanked the store, and were the only other establishments in the complex. I was sure the employees at the Big and Tall kept the bakery in business because it was too far away from anything else to have a regular clientele. The store itself was rather unimpressive: a sign painted on the window proclaimed "Bernie's" with a silhouette of a rotund man underneath. A couple of half dummies sat dejectedly in the window--the clothing which covered them obviously too large for their frames. The one rather curious and slightly impressive item was the door to the front of the shop. It was huge. Much larger than the doors in most retail establishments, it must have been custom made for Bernie's king-size clientele. What did it feel like to need extra room for everything? When I put my hand on the handle to push the door open, I got the strangest feeling that if I stepped across the threshold of this place, my life would change forever. "This is ridiculous!" I remember thinking to myself "It's just a job for goodness sakes!" I pushed the door open and went in.

Lone Star's "I'm Already There" was playing on a far off country music station as the bell over the door gave a little tinkle. The place had that slightly musky perfume of your grandfather's closet-that subtle scent of fine pipe tobacco and Old Spice. The shop was much bigger than it seemed from the outside, and had a second level with a balcony and offices that overlooked the showroom floor. For a moment, I felt as if I was on a sound stage for "Land Of The Giants"-everything seemed oversized. From the racks that were set up for the tallest of the tall, to the suits that looked like they were made for Guinness Book Fattest Man nominees. All were neatly hung on rotating racks or show room displays. I'd never worked retail, but somehow I felt right at home. From above boomed a lusty voice: "Danny!". I looked up to find a large man leaning on the steel railings of the balcony. It didn't seem possible, but he was even bigger than Joe from the unemployment office. Every part of him was fat-from his puffy hairstyle, to his big feet. He looked like a balloon character from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I half expected to see wires attached to him with people below maneuvering him. "Bernie?" I queried and his hearty laugh confirmed it. "None other my boy! Come on up!"

Bernie's office was at the top of the stairs. As I bounded up, two at a time, Bernie let out a chuckle "That's something you don't see many of our salesmen do!" He ushered me ahead of him and I walked through another enormous door to find myself in a small room, made smaller by its furnishings. It consisted of a small oak desk, and a computer-standard office fare. However, the large refrigerator, stand-alone pantry, coffee maker and microwave were not. "Before we begin, may I offer you something to eat?" Bernie asked, already carefully maneuvering his way around the desk to the refrigerator. It was somewhat surreal watching this super-sized man practically squeeze his way through the cramped quarters. He opened the refrigerator to reveal a small deli: meats of all kinds, exotic breads and cheeses, beverages ranging from soft-drinks to fine wines, all carefully stocked within its quarters. Bernie rummaged through, and pulled out an overstuffed submarine sandwich and began munching. His grunts of pleasure permeated the office, and instead of revulsion, I actually enjoyed watching this man eat with such gusto. For so many years, I had deprived myself of some of my favorite foods in exchange for the washboard stomach that I possessed. Maybe, if I worked here, I could live vicariously through these guys. My internal reverie ended with Bernie's voice. "Well at least share a cup of coffee with me. I hate nourishing myself alone." I smiled my assent and Bernie squeezed his way to the coffeepot. I was not a big coffee drinker, but I figure a little kiss up wouldn't hurt my job prospects any. Besides, for some reason the coffee smelled particularly delicious.

Bernie produced two mugs-each with the Big and Tall logo I had seen on the front door of the shop. "How do you take yours?" he cooed. "Black" I answered. "Well you must indulge me one small addition to your mug…I make my own blend of spices that seem to really liven up the coffee-nothing much, just some cinnamon and vanilla. Stuff like that. You're not allergic to anything are you? I told him no, and he took a small packet from the standing pantry, tapped it lightly on the desk, tore the corner and emptied the contents into my cup. The granules looked like Folgers Crystals-little flecks of something shiny danced and fell gracefully into the mug. Bernie took a small silver spoon and began stirring the coffee. The aroma was like nothing I had smelled before. Memories of big Sunday breakfasts and hearty Thanksgiving dinners suddenly became as vivid as if they'd happened yesterday. Nights spent eating cotton candy and funnel cake at the local carnival-laughing with my friends and gorging on hotdogs-all seemed palpable. Bernie brought the mug close to my nostrils and placed my hands around it. "Drink, my boy. And then we can talk about your joining us at BB&T."

Almost mesmerized, I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. The beans of the coffee blended with the spices and my taste buds seemed to spring to new life. The thoughts of all of the goodies I had denied myself over the years began to turn into a craving, then a hunger. I could feel my stomach began to growl for food. I had grabbed a McMuffin when I'd left the unemployment office, but that had been several hours ago. It was natural for me to feel starved. But in the middle of a job interview? I had to eat something. As if on cue, Bernie produced an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Have one?" Bernie again cajoled. "I--I--…" I stuttered, but no other words would come out. The cookies looked like manna from heaven. I could feel the drool forming on my tongue. I grabbed one and placed it in my mouth. It melted like butter, blending with the coffee and exploding my senses like an orgasm. My crotch leapt, writhing with the rise and fall of my breath. I came up for air, took another cookie and a sip of the coffee. Again, the exact same sensation-yet more intense. I thought I was going to erupt right then and there. I gulped more of the drink and began inhaling the pastries with lightening speed. In less then ten minutes the entire plate was empty. The wildest thing of all…I was still hungry!

I looked up at Bernie, who was standing over me with a knowing smile. "It's always better to talk on a full stomach." He went to the refrigerator and pulled out another overstuffed submarine sandwich-twice the size of the one he'd just eaten. "Are you sure I can't tempt you with one of these?" My mouth opened automatically, and Bernie floated over and placed the monstrous hoagie in my hands. I tore into it as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. In between bites, Bernie suggested that we carry our meeting to The Blue Whale, a restaurant frequented by he and his staff. As I rose to go, onions and lettuce falling everywhere, Bernie touched the intercom on his desk. "All right boys…" the echo of his voice could be heard in the showroom below "…time for our foray to The Blue Whale! Close up shop!" In between munching, I could hear, and feel great activity from the floor below. The floor vibrated much like it had done in the unemployment office. We moved out of the office and onto the balcony to a sight that would have sent my old faggy friends into a tizzy. Below were five of Bernie's staff-each one plumper than the next. They stood at attention as we came down the stairs. Bernie introduced me to each, ending with their newest salesman, Dominic. He had to weigh at least 350 pounds. "This is our baby!" Bernie gushed, pinching Dominic's flushed cheek. "Been with us about a year" he poked Dominic's round middle. "He's starting to fit in quite nicely." Bernie lumbered towards the door, pulling me along with him. "Daniel here will be joining us for lunch-and hopefully more. Make him feel at home." And still in a spin from all that had happened since walking through the doors of Bernie's Big & Tall, I was off to The Blue Whale.

The Blue Whale was quite nice--muted tones of aqua and gray gave it warmth and style. A Bach concerto whispered softly as Bernie and the other salesmen took their seats. We had been ushered to a table in a private area of the restaurant--one large enough for the substantial girth of our party. It was obvious that Bernie and the gang were regulars, because all of the wait-staff knew everyone by name. It was also pretty obvious that time that the entire staff of Bernie's was gay. Underneath a curtained archway, a cadre of handsome waiters looked ready to break into a chorus of "Hello Dolly". They giggled and whispered as if they were dance hall girls anxious to see which gentleman would pick them out of the crowd. The headwaiter, who looked to be about Bernie's size, clapped the others to attention. "Don't just stand there like a bunch of schoolgirls! Take these gentlemen's orders!" he barked. "Oh Jacques," Bernie cooed "...just bring us our usual!"

I was returning to normal, my appetite assuaged and my pants screaming to be unzipped-my distended belly playing hide and seek with the buttons on my shirt. It was time to ask about hours and pay, and all the standard stuff. As I opened my mouth to get down to business, the first of the waiters arrived with the appetizers. There was enough food to feed a small city. Plate upon plate of mouth watering delicacies passed before the table: shrimp wrapped in bacon, small puff pastries stuffed with creams and cheeses and meats-anything that I had ever seen at fancy buffets was now being placed under my nose. I thought of the spectacle I must have made in Bernie's office, and my stomach began to turn. The thought of more food was making me nauseous. And then the coffee arrived. Jacques himself brought out the ornate samovar and ushered it towards Bernie. "Monsieur Bernie" he chimed. "Ze coffee wis your special mix eez ready". As Jacques opened the spigot and poured the first cup, the table went silent. Unbelievably I could feel my stomach loosen. I could feel the insatiable hunger I had felt in Bernie's office return. It was as if I had never eaten the mound of cookies. Just the aroma of the incredible liquid wafting into my nostrils was enough to make me want to stuff something in my mouth. All around me, the other men were having a similar reaction. I remember seeing episodes of "Wild Kingdom" with sharks or packs of wolves in a feeding frenzy. There was a primitive ritual about to happen, and everyone knew it. As the coffee was passed around, Dominic, began to sweat. When a cup made it to him, he grabbed it, and chugged down the hot liquid as if it were the first drink of a dehydrated man. He then grabbed the nearest tray of hors d'oeuvres and began shoveling them into his mouth. Sweat glistened on his brow as he tipped the tray up and up until he was literally swallowing and chewing almost simultaneously. A waiter quickly scurried over and began wiping his brow and massaging his hardening belly. I sat in awe as I watched each of the sales guys fall into the same kind of trance-that is until my cup reached me.

I recall one of the adventures of Homer's "Odyssey", in which Odysseus and his men encounter the witch Circe. Once on her island, she turns most of the men into animals. Bernie had led his men into the modern day version of that adventure. I don't remember much about the rest of that meal. As my haze parted from time to time, I was aware of grunts and moans of pleasure coming from around the table. Slurping and guzzling and licking were followed by burps and the occasional button pop or zipper pull being loosened. Halfway through the fourth course, everyone abandoned silverware and began eating off of plates and trays with their hands and mouths. I found myself caressing and licking the gravy off of plates as if it were a lover. No mouthful seemed enough-I couldn't get the food in fast enough, and the sounds and sights around me seemed to urge me on. By dessert, each man was no longer able to feed himself. The waiters took over and began shoveling whipped cream, cakes and pies into our dazed faces. I can't tell you how much I ate, but I literally couldn't move. My belly was as hard as a ripe cantaloupe and I closed my eyes and slept.

When I awoke, the entire table had been cleared off. Any trace of the feeding frenzy had been wiped away, and all of the men had been cleaned up and were groggily coming to themselves. If it weren't for the screaming pain coming from my stomach, I would have thought it all a dream. Standing above me was a beaming Bernie. "I hope you got enough to eat." The boys and I do this at least three or four times a week. Don't worry about the bill…I take care of that." I sat up and blinked. I couldn't believe this was happening. Bernie handed me a packet of papers-the standard Human Resources forms to fill out along with information about my salary and benefits. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw how much I'd be making. It was at least five times what I would have made at the "Y". How could he afford to pay for all of this? Bernie saw my reaction. He said "Don't worry, this salary is only temporary. With raises and incentives you'll quadruple it in no time. So do we have a deal?" Was he crazy? I propped myself up on my swollen stomach and shook his hand. "On one condition" I said. He cocked his fat head and his chins wobbled. "What's that, my dear boy?" "That you give me some of that coffee to take home"

In the beginning, everything went along pretty normally. The store practically ran itself. And I was more than content--I was happy. The first time I noticed something different was after my initial lunch with the guys. The next few days, I was ravenous. I ate from morning till night. And I craved the coffee with the secret ingredient introduced to my by Bernie. One morning, about a week after I had started working, I rolled out of bed and began getting ready for work. Sleepily I showered, shaved, and stumbled into my clothing. I stepped into my dress slacks and pulled them to my waist. They wouldn't close. With my swimmer's lifestyle, I had been a perfect size 32 for years. I never had to worry about putting on weight. I went to the scale in the bathroom and stepped on. Since I had begun working at the store, I had put on ten pounds! "Not acceptable." I thought to myself. I sucked in my stomach, fastened my pants and made a mental note to go to the gym more often and most importantly--to cut out lunching with the guys. But somehow neither thing seemed to happen--I was constantly working until after the gym closed. And not going to lunch with the Bernie and the gang became as unthinkable as not having cup after cup of the delicious mysterious coffee. I began to have strange dreams: I would dream I was in the middle of Africa in the bush country, taking pictures of wildlife, when the earth would begin to shake. Suddenly an enormous Bull Elephant the size of a building would come crashing through the tall grasses and block the sun. I was terrified until it would dawn on me that I was the Elephant! Then, understanding my power, I began breaking down trees, even mountains--growing more enormous with each new conquest. After one of these dreams, I would always wake in a sweat, run to the kitchen, and raid the refrigerator--absent-mindedly eating until I was sleepy.

After about three months of this, I could no longer hide the results. I tried to wear my size 32 pants until they had all systematically exploded off of my frame. My suit jackets had begun cutting off the circulation in my arms, and my old shirts were laughable on my new frame. Between the daily lunches, midnight binges, and very little gym time, I had gone from 180lbs, to 230. My pants size had gone from the perpetual 32 to a 42.

One night, about a week before my 30th birthday, I tiptoed into the bathroom when I thought Sean was sleeping. I took off my clothes and stepped in front of the full-length mirror. My face was so round! I was beginning to develop a pronounced double chin. My thighs and ass were full and big, and my stomach was beginning to grow into this ball of soft flesh. And my tits! I remembered my high school gym teacher teasing Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor: two fat kids in my class. He used to call their soft round mammaries "man-tits", kidding them about having bigger ones than most of the girls, (which was true). I used to find those two guys fascinating: the way they lumbered onto the field for class, the way they looked in the showers. I knew I was gay back then, but it was something more than that. And here I was with my own set of "man-tits". I touched the right nipple, and then the left--crossing my arms and inadvertently giving myself cleavage. Electricity shot through my entire body. My nipples had become so sensitive! Caught in my exploration, it took me a moment to realize that my lover Sean was standing behind me. He had come in to use the toilet and noticed me in the mirror. "You're fat," he said as he sleepily relieved himself, kissed me on my chubby cheek and padded back to bed. He was right. I WAS fat. But looking in the mirror, I wasn't sure that was a bad thing. I touched my nipples again and headed for the kitchen.

The next day at work, Bernie and the guys threw me a birthday party and presented me with two gifts. The first was a container of the special ingredient for my coffee, and the next was a new suit from the store. It was the first size that we carried for big men. I was still a size or two away from needing to shop at Bernie's and had decided to keep it that way. "No offense guys...", I said, "...but I plan on never wearing clothes from our store!" "Well we can always get it taken in." Bernie quickly replied. "We just wanted to show you how glad we are that you're here. Now cut the cake and have some coffee!" I declined the cake, but I had 3 cups of coffee. That evening determined to change my eating habits for my 30th year on this planet, I took off early and headed for the gym. On the way, I passed restaurant after restaurant, fast food joint after fast food joint. I kept thinking to myself, "You've got to lose weight." Yet every time I would ask myself "Why?" I couldn't come up with a good enough answer. Until I thought of Sean's comment in the bathroom: "You're fat!" "You could lose him", I thought. I steadied myself and pointed the car in the direction of the gym. When suddenly, a little voice spoke to me: "But if you go to the gym right now, you could lose YOU." Suddenly I was starving. I turned into a Kentucky Fried Chicken, ordered a 20-piece bucket, and ate the whole thing in the car.

When I got home, Sean had prepared a huge meal of pasta, fresh bread and salad. Even after my trek to the Colonel's, I wolfed down plate after plate. Sean announced that he had news--good and bad. The good news was that he had landed a choice modeling assignment with a top agency. The bad news was that the agency was out of the country and he would be gone for at least 5 months! I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to scream, "It's me isn't it? I'll lose the weight! Don't go!" But instead, I stuffed some more food in my mouth and hugged him tightly. I loved him too much to stand in his way. And if he found someone else with a swimmer's build who made him happy...so be it. Sean had to leave the day before my birthday. As he hugged me before he boarded the plane, he whispered, "See you later fat boy", in my ear and walked away. And I knew I'd never see him again. When I got home, I pulled out the suit Bernie and the guys had given me and put it on. I looked like a kid playing dress up. Even though I was working on a size 44 waist, the pants had to be at least a 46. I thought of Sean and suddenly felt free. I sat down with a mixing bowl of Captain Crunch and heavy cream and imagined myself filling out the pants.

What happened next is all a blur. Knowing that I had lost Sean, I poured myself into my work and my food. Both satisfied me intensely. The store was doing great business. It seemed that the more I ate, the more productive I became. I was growing daily. Every time I turned around, a button would pop or a zipper would break. I began to carry around safety pins to keep my clothes up--it became a running joke around the store. The guys who used to seem enormous to me suddenly began to look average. I became the star at the Blue Whale. The waiters would line up to be my encourager and with Sean gone, I used their attention to help me forget about Sean. Bernie, who was no slouch at the dinner table, would watch me in amazement as I polished off plate after plate of entrée after entrée with all the trimmings, the servers massaging my distended belly and cooing at my appetite. Then go to work on the dessert cart. I stood in the mirror more often now. I was officially fat by anyone's standards. My face was so round that sometimes I wouldn't recognize myself. Because I was constantly lifting heavy boxes, my arms were huge and firm, as was my chest. But my stomach became my favorite area. I would hang out at the bar around the corner from my apartment and drink beer after beer to the amazement of all the guys. I started wearing suspenders because no pants it seemed would hold my ever growing gut.

In the first month after Sean left, I put on 35 lbs. I tipped the scales at around 265. From then on, not a waking (or sleeping) moment went by that I didn't eat something. I even took food breaks in the store. Bernie was right about the suit I was given for my birthday--I DID have to have it altered...eventually it had to be let out--twice! Sean would call and we would have stilted conversations. He would ask me if I was still gaining weight, and I would avoid talking about it. He would tell me he loved me, but I knew it was just talk. The company had extended his contract--he didn't know when he'd be back. Every now and then, I would get a postcard from some exotic place saying, "Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here". But I was too busy to notice. I was becoming the Elephant of my dream. I could feel my power.

In the next few months, I surpassed all store sales records, and there was big talk of a promotion to store manager. Except for the prospect of leaving this location, I couldn't have been happier. At least, when I wasn't thinking about Sean. The 5 months had quickly become 8 and then 10. In that time, my physical gain had become as impressive as my professional one. In the year since I had begun working at Bernie's, I had gone from 180 to 380 lbs. My waist had gone from a 32 to a 62. I was beginning to make earthquakes of my own.

One night I awakened from a dream (in which my stomach broke through the walls of the Empire State Building) by a voice in the darkness. "My God! You're huge!" it was Sean's voice. He was standing over the bed. He sounded different somehow. My first instinct was to grab him with my big arms and engulf him in my newfound mountain of flesh and warmth. But anger quickly welled up inside of me and I sat up in bed--the third empty large pizza box falling off of my stomach. "Yes I am." I said proudly, "You got something to say about it?" "Yes..." he said-I could hear the smile in his voice as he moved closer. "We are going to need a bigger bed." And with that, he turned on the light. My mouth dropped. When Sean left, he had been a 6 foot 1 inch, 170 lb. cover boy: now standing before me was a 6 foot 1 inch, 285 lb. (he told me later) gorgeous Buddha. His round face now covered with a lush beard. It was obvious that he was gaining weight faster than he could buy clothes to fit him: the T-shirt he was wearing wouldn't fit over the big round belly protruding over his tight size 48 jeans. "How?!...Why?" I stammered. "By eating dummy!" he laughed. "And I have a feeling that the delicious stuff I borrowed from you to put in my coffee helped". "But I thought you didn't like me fat!" I was almost crying now. Sean sat on the edge of the bed--which groaned under the over 600 pounds of us. I could see how horny he was as his great stomach heaved. "You never asked. You just assumed I wouldn't want a fat lover. I loved watching you pig out. I'd come in the bedroom after you'd gorge and jack off. Didn't you notice how intense our love-making got after you started putting on weight?" "I thought you were over-compensating because you loved me." I said. "Of course I love you Danny, but not in spite of how much you weigh-your size turns me on! I want you as big as a house!", was his breathless reply as he kissed me full on the lips. "And I hope you're ready for me to join you." He took off his shirt to reveal burgeoning man-tits and the most beautiful belly I had ever seen. He straddled me, opened my robe and began exploring my under-belly, kissing it and licking lower and lower. I felt hungry and horny at the same time as I pulled him to my crotch. We broke the bed that night.

T hat was three years ago. When I waddled into work the next day, I was beaming. Sean and I made love all night, and then spent the entire morning eating the breakfast to end all breakfasts. During which, he told me of his adventures in Europe. He spent the first few months pining over me-not eating, not sleeping. Once he began drinking the coffee, his appetite returned and he immediately found solace in food and proceeded to eat himself out of his misery. Of course this began to show on his waistline, and after a month, he was let go from his modeling contract. As luck would have it, a photographer on the shoot also worked with a new European catalogue designed for big men. He introduced Sean to the head of the company and the rest was history. Sean spent the remainder of the tour eating and posing in the finest cities of the Old World. He really had a wonderful time and wished desperately that I had been there. We decided to get married and spend our honeymoon eating our way through all of the spots he had discovered in his travels.

When Bernie saw me, he sensed the change immediately. "My boy, either you had sex last evening, or discovered that Little Debbie delivers-which was it?" We were in his office, munching on crullers. We had positioned ourselves so as to be able to reach the refrigerator and standing pantry without moving: we had become so large that it was impossible for the two of us to move around. "Both" I laughed. I told him of Sean's return, and of his amazing transformation. I told him that my life was complete: I had a job I loved, and a partner whom I adored. Bernie smiled, and in it, I thought I caught a hint of bittersweet sadness. "Well then," he said. "…my job is done." And he immediately began opening drawers, removing papers and stuffing them in a nearby briefcase. Stunned, I spattered out "What are you doing?"- crumbs spewing across my white shirt. Bernie smiled, and calmly explained. "I am a business man my dear. I have many other BB&T locations to check on. Joe, the man you met at the unemployment office, is my lover. He's already gone off to our store in Portland, and now I can join him. We needed to find a manager for this store that we could depend on and trust to carry on my traditions. We found him." He reached over and patted my stomach, which was wedged against his desk. "But…but…" I searched for words. How could I tell this man that he had become my mentor, my father-my friend! I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. "But where will I get more of Bernie's Secret Mix for my coffee?" Bernie laughed "make it yourself darling-I told you, it's just cinnamon and vanilla." I stared at him blankly. "But what about the secret ingredient? The stuff that makes us so ravenous?" Bernie chortled "The secret ingredient my boy, is you."

I looked down at myself. At 400 lbs., my 4X dress shirt was already gapping in the front around my stomach. People moved out of my way when they saw me coming because of my size. My whole world had become food-I expressed myself in how much I indulged. Was Bernie saying that this had been my destiny all along. I thought back to High School-to Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor-to the big men who would intrigue me when I was with my friends. I realized, not only did I want to HAVE them, I wanted to BE them. And now I was. I guess he was right: it was in me all the time.

So now I run Bernie's Big & Tall Store #836. We consistently bring in the highest revenues of any in the chain. We also have the fattest staff. I've had my offices expanded to include a full kitchen, and have hired my favorite chef and waiters from the Blue Whale to prepare in house meals for my staff. I surpassed Bernie's weight about a year ago, and am so fat that I had to install a freight elevator to get to the second floor, because the steps are impossible for me to maneuver. I am fast approaching Guinness Book proportions. As for Sean-he now models for Bernie's catalogue. He quickly outgrew the standard sizes, and a new super-size line was developed. Sean also recruits new employees for the store. He now tips the scale at over 500lbs., and is the most beautiful roly-poly thing I've ever seen. So you see, dreams come true in the strangest places. Who would have ever thought that I would find my life's calling in an unemployment line? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to interview a potential salesman that Sean found, and I have to brew some coffee.

By the way…are YOU looking for work?

The End.

copyright 1998 by Fatbrwncub

[mental-breaker-74]

Imagine: how to gain Satoru Gojo affections

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x y/n (you)

- you can put him in his place and call out his behavior, that’s hot

- if you take good care of ‘’his kids”, well congrats, he wants to wife-you-up now

- if you act like you don’t care that much about him or are completely natural about his persona, but then coming back from a mission you bring him sweets (once he mentioned that he likes) – aren’t you just the loveliest and cutest?

- again, if are usually calm and collected when he flirts with you, but on rare occasion you flirt back… the first time he nearly got a heart attack, now he still has some malfunctions problem - like he never sees that coming, that’s not in his protocol

- he gets compliments all the time, but if YOU give him one? That feels completely different (and because you don’t do this often – just special and genuine)

- you can kick some ass? He didn’t know the murder can look soo good on someone but the moment you emerged from the shadows after fighting curses, all sweaty, dirty, bloody, and cool as fuck – shame on all those models because you can leave them jobless

- roast him with all your wit and sass, you will get proposal in return

[doudouneverte]

Unfinished task

a/n: it took me a lot of time to finish it sorry...

*not my GIF*

Pairing: Lena Oberdorf x AWFC!Reader; Arsenal WFC x NEDWNT!Reader

Summary: Based on this (requested by anon)

Type: Fluff

Warning: me,tion of heart attack and nothing else (i think)

word count: 4983 (sorry)

----------

2018/19

This season, everything changed for you. To start, you made your first step and scored your first goals in Frauen Bundelsiga for Essen with your best friend Lena Oberdorf. Talking about the German player, you and her were known to be pretty close; your mom raised you alone, and she was not very surprised when you told her that you wanted to play football. Growing up in a family of football fans who had some relatives who played with the legend Johan Cruff helped. You started with a boy team, and that's where you met Lena; she was also a girl, pretty good, and despite her roughness on the pitch, you quickly became friends. She was a solid midfielder when you were a more agile and versatile player.

Life couldn't be better for you, but that's when we're talking about the second reason this season is so special for you. A few weeks before the end of the season, you planned to take a new step in your and Lena's relationship. You started to see her as more than a friend a few months after she assisted one of your goals. But life is not always so simple and so great.

In May, during a training session, the coach told you that your mom had a heart attack at work. Her life wasn't in danger, but they allowed you to leave earlier. At the hospital, the doctor told you that your mom overworked, and this was certainly caused by the stress. Your mom didn't tell you, but you knew she worked more than necessary to be sure she could attend your game without any work left to be able to celebrate with you every time you win.

But the worst happened when the doctor told you that she would need an aldut around to make sure it didn't happen. Another adult—that was the problem. You never really met your father; your mom divorced him when she learned that he cheated on her when she was pregnant. Of course you could call your grandma, but she was in Netherland, and you knew she was a little too old to keep an eye on you and your mom, and then the only available option was your aunt Marina.

After you called your aunt, she immediately booked a flight. You knew that in this situation, you had to do something you would probably regret your whole life. You had a meeting with the coaching staff to ask them something, and just before your last match, you had your response: at the end of the season, after only a few matches, you'd be a free agent and leave the country.

The girls knew nothing about that—well,  maybe just one, but you knew that if you had told her, she would make you doubt, but you couldn't. It was only when you were at the airport that you wished her good luck for the next season and told her about your departure.

2019/20

It's been more than two years since you left Germany. Of course, at first things weren't easy; you spent the first part of the 2019–2020 season literally jobless. You didn't have clubs; you continued to train on your own, but you spent almost all your time helping your aunt at her work. That was like this until you ran into someone you didn't expect to see after all these months: Vivianne Miedema, and she wasn't alone; she was with Jill Roord and Danielle Van De Donk.

Of course you knew who the forward was; she was literally one of your models when you started your career, but what you didn't know was that she knew you. After a few talks, you explained to her why you were not in Germany and, more importantly, why you hadn't played since the start of the season.

They were truly sorry for you and said they wished they could do anything, but you assured them that they couldn't do anything for that and that you would eventually try to found a new club even if you had to spend the rest of the season training by yourself. Apparently they decided to take things in her perfectly because only a few days later you received an unexpected call to let you know that after the three Dutch players talked about you to their head coach, Arsenal was open to giving you a chance, but you'd have to wait until the winter transfer window to offiacilize everything wich you accepted without thinking.

Until then, you continued your routine: help your aunt in her job—well, being not really qualified for it meant you just moved boxes all day, and after that, you spent some time with your mom and sneaked out in the night to train. That was like this until you signed. In Germany, Lena was attracting the interest of a few clubs when she saw the news. She wasn't really attracted to the WSL until then, and honestly, if it weren't for random posts on her Instagram feed, she would surely have missed it.

The midfielder wanted to call you to tell you that she was proud and happy for you that you could play again after what happened, but she knew you wouldn't reply. It was selfish, but since you moved, you gradually stopped speaking to your ex-teammates. At first, you said to yourself that was because you would probably drop the football a few months after you landed in London, but you finally accepted the reality. You didn't want to have anything that reminded you of the incident, but you were also too cowardly to say all the things you never said to her.

Your debuts were pretty good; of course you started on the bench, but when the coach gave you your chance, you took it. You even scored in your first London derby against Chelsea, and even if you lost, everyone could see that you were more talented than anyone else. But unfortunately, COVID came, and with that, the end of the season.

2022/23 

A lot of things happened during those three years: first, your mom found a new job in your aunt's company; second, you signed another deal with the London club; and finally, the most important thing: you made your first steps for your national team. Being a Dutch player raised in Germany, the two federations wanted you in their team, but you decided to represent your mom and also spend more time with Viv, who had basically become your big sister since you joined the Gunners.

And it was with your oranje kit that you properly saw Lena for the first time in almost four years. Yes, Arsenal faced Wolfsburg last season in Champions League, but you were injured, so you couldn't play. During your pitch inspection, you noticed someone staring at you. You tried to distract yourself by talking with Esme and Vicky, but you were cut off when Lynn and Jill said that some of their Wolfsburg teammates wanted to meet you.

If Viv was your calm and collected big sister, Jill otherwise wanted to be the cool one. She always did some dumb thing to make you smile and see her as cool as she was. Lynn quickly grew into a very close friend of yours, even with the distance. After reluctantly agreeing, you made your way with the two girls to the German players.

Here you were in front of Lina Magull and Sydney Lohmann, who just got kicked out of the Champions League because of you, but like Jill said, there were also some Wolfsburg players, and that's how you found yourself shyly waving to Alex Popp, Feli Rauch, Svenja Huth, Jule Brand, and the only real familiar face, Lena Oberdorf.

Except for Viv (who was not there), Jill, and Dom (who knew how to put two and two together), nobody really knew about you and Lena. Well,  some knew you played together, but nobody knew you were very close friends, and you messed up (almost) everything after you moved to London.

"Guys, this is Y/n, she's a little shy, but she's very good on the pitch." Jill introduced you proudly.

"We already know that." Lina said, and you looked at your feet.

"Sorry," you mumbled, "but you are very good too." You added a little, unsure of what else you could say.

"Wait, are you the same Y/n who played for Essen with Lena?" Jule asked, and when you saw Jill smirk, you knew it was something she planned.

"Uh, yeah." You looked at Lena "Yeah, it was a good moment." You smiled lightly, but it was enough to be noticed by the midfilder. Something in you wanted to pull her away from anyone and tell her that you were sorry about everything, but before that, you had a game to play.

The game went pretty well, even if you lost only 1-0. You showed one of your best performances on the pitch until you got subbed off. After the final whistle, you made your way to congregate with the opponents. When Sydney asked for a jersey swap, you accepted, and the Bayern player was floating in your jersey. Her teammates didn't miss the opportunity to comment on what made Lena feel something—something she thought she had been above for a while now.

In the tunnel, you were talking with Dom when Lena came, slightly interrupting you, but the older Dutch player didn't seem to be bothered by that. "Can we talk?" She asked, and you nodded before following her. "So..." she started before pausing for a moment. "You played really well."

"Thanks, you too. It reminds me of when we were in the old time." You responded and almost instantly cringed at your word choice "Well, it's not that we're so old or anything; it's just that..."

"It's just that it's been a while since we've seen each other."

"Yeah, that's it." There was a little silence after your reply, like you were both processing what you just said.

"You...you've changed a lot since 2019."

"Uh, yeah, I grew up a little."

"And you did a little work out?"

"Oh that's? It's a funny story; when I went to London, I was free of any club, and I started to work for my aunt's company, but she just assigned me to the physical job, and after I signed for Arsenal, I kept doing this, and here I am now." You chuckled lightly at the end.

"I think it's funny that when we were little, I was the one who looked like a boy, and now look at you...you're...handsome." You lowered your head, hoping that Lena didn't see you blush at her compliment.

"Thanks, you are beautiful too." Now it was her turn to blush. "Maybe one day we should—" you couldn't finish your sentence before Alex called her teammate "I think it's our cue to leave," you said, and she nodded and quickly hugged you before she left.

Later this night, you sent her a DM on Instagram. You talked a lot, and before you forgot, you gave her your new phone number. Back in London, you were still in your little cloud until Vicky reminded you that your next opponent in the Champions League would be Wolfsburg, but before that, you had a game against Manchester United, where you unfortunately lost Leah.

At the end of April, you were in Germany, ready to play one of the biggest games of the season. The two teams made their way onto the pitch, and like everyone except  you were on the starting eleven. It was funny to see you being almost taller than every player, knowing that you were one of the younger. Your job today was to stop Sveindis' offensive and try to assist Stina in the box.

What should be a hard game became almost impossible when you were tackled by Lena for the first time rather early in the match. Lying on the grass, you took a moment to stand up until two people held you theirs hands. You unconsciously took one of them, and instantly, when your skin touched others, you felt a familiar warmth. On your feet, you were not disappointed when you saw Lena in front of you. She seemed a little worried, but you reassured her with a smile and a gentle tap on her shoulder. That was something she used to do every time an opponent was rough with you, and it became your thing to show that you cared about each other.

The match didn't go as planned, but you still gained a draw before the game at the Emirates. Back in London, you proposed to Lena that you see her before the next game. You told her that your mom wanted to see her. You felt relieved when she finally accepted, and now you had to wait a week to see her.

One week later, you were in your bedroom, emptying your wardrobe with Viv and Beth, trying to choose an outfit for the day. "Well, why don't you try the outfit that Daan brought you for your birthday?" the Dutch asked.

"I lost it," you instantly replied.

"How can you—" Beth started before being interrupted by another voice.

"Y/n always lost or forgot things," Jill said throught your phone. She proposed to help you with Lynn, so you facetimed them a few minutes ago, but they were more focused on whatever the young Dutch was watching on her phone. "Do you remember when she almost forgot her boots before a Champions League game?"

"Oh, come on, it was once," you groaned.

"Yes, but if Viv wasn't there, you would have spent the game on the bench." Beth reminded you.

"Okay, I think we got it; now can we focus on the really important thing?"

"Yeah, girls, let's focus. We're talking about Y/n's first date since a while." Lynn said, and you groaned again.

"It's not a date; it's just a lunch with my mom." You said.

"It's not?" The two girls thought the phone asked at the same time. "So why do you need us to pick an outfit?" Jill added.

"Because...because I promised to my mom that I'd try to wear something other than a jogger, and it's been a long time since I spent a whole time almost alone with Lena, so I want to look good."

"If you want to look good, you can just go without a shirt." Jill joked, making Lynn and Beth laugh, while Viv just sighed. Sorry, but well, you built a good body, so why not show her?"

"Is that even a serious question?" Viv asked while you picked some clothes in the big bazaar.

"Okay, I'll be right back," you said before exiting the room. The girls were talking until you received a text from Lena. Well, from what your teammates could see, 'Obi💪🧸'.

Obi💪🧸:

Ich bin auf dem Weg (I'm on my way) 

You came back just when Viv was about to call you. Your two Arsenal teammates looked at you; they didn't say anything; they just let you get a little unsure if it was a good choice of cloth, but when you were about to speak, you heard Lynn and Jill cheering you on the other side of the phone.

"Go catch the girl," the midfielder said, and you rolled your eyes before you took your phone and saw the text from Lena. You didn't wait more before you left a little anxious, even if you didn't know why.

This afternoon was perfect; your mom was more than happy to see Lena again, and she didn't miss embarrassing you in front of her. When you drove her back to her hotel, you took some time to apologize about your departure a few years ago, but she told you that it was okay because she knew you couldn't do something about that. And after that, there was the game in London.

-----

At the end of the game, you lost 2-3. You were more than gutted, of course; you conced a goal in the last minutes of extra time. The Wolfsburg players came to congratulate you, and even if you found it cruel, you were still professional. Dom stayed with you until she was sure you were okay. Of course, Viv, Jill, and Lynn also came to check on you. You were trying not to be too emotional when Lena approached you. The Dutch players exchanged a look and gave you a quick glance to make sure you were alright before they let you with the German midfielder.

In this moment, a lot of thought invaded Lena's mind. She wanted to hug you to tell you it was okay and you fought pretty well, but she also knew that as someone who plays to win, it was not something she would want to hear herself. So she just gently rubbed your arm and gave you a weak smile. It was fascinating that even after all these years, she still understood you so much. "It was a tough game," she said, and you nodded. "I'm very happy and proud to see you play again, even if it would be better if we played together."

"You can come play here," you remarked, making her look at you with wide eyes. "I mean, if you want, of course. I don't want to force you to leave everyone; it's just that I miss playing with you too." You confessed, "And I'm sure you'd kill it in red." You joked.

"Thanks, but I'm not ready to leave my green shirt for now. But..." she started, making you raise your eyebrow to her. "But you can let me try yours to see if you're right." she explained. It took you some time to process what she meant, but when you did, you couldn't stop a little smile from appearing on your face.

"Very smooth, Oberdorf," you replied while you started to take off your shirt. Today was not particularly hot, but Lena sensed a hot wave rising in her body until it reached her face, and she started to blush. "And here for you," you said, holding her your shirt. Her eyes lost themselves a little on your tall figure before she took it and "maybe" brushed your fingers together on purpose.

She thanked you, and when she was about to take off hers, you stopped her. You didn't say anything until you quickly walked away toward Dom, who was talking with Feli. Lena had her eyes fixed on you through the entire process when you talked to the defender before she left you with her teammates and then came back with what seemed to be a Wolfsburg vest that she gave you, and you made your way back to your best friend.

"Where were you going?"

"I just needed that," you said, showing her the vest.

"For?" You covered her with her vest just enough to let her take off her shirt, protecting her from the public's view.

"Wow, did I miss an episode or something?" Vicky asked some players next to her when she saw what you did. The women around—who were basically all your team and some of Lena's teammates—turned their heads to where the Dutch were looking.

"Oh, Daan will really like that." Lynn was visibly excited to tell your national teammates that.

"Are they dating?" Gio asked.

"No, not yet, but don't worry," Jill said just loud enough to be heard by Dom, who was next to her and earning a strange look from Viv because of the expression she was making.

After your jersey swap, you walked with Lena to where you let almost everyone. You were close, but not close enough to permit anyone to misinterpret anything. Sometimes your arms would touch her while you were walking, and those little touches made you feel something deep in you. In the tunnel, you stopped her a little far away from the group, and the German looked at you with a confused look.

"Can you promise me something?" You started, and when she nodded, you continued, "Promise me that whatever happens in the final, you will not win."

"Yeah, I promise—wait, what?"

"Yeah, you heard me."

"But I want to win."

"And me too, but I want you to win the Champions League with me. That was your idea when we were little," you reminded her, and she laughed.

"I can't promise you that."

"Well, at least I tried," you joked. "More seriously, good luck for the final; I will come to see you."

"Thank you, and I wish you come. It would be different if you can't be there."

Later on the bus, Lena was questioned by a lot of her teammates. She knew that even if they were tired because of previous events, they wouldn't stop until they had their answers. But even if the German plaeyer was more than happy from your last interaction together, she felt like it was too soon to hope about something, despite all the teasing from her teammates and Jill's confession about the fact that she didn't see you so comfortable around someone other than Dom and Viv. While the midfielder was stuck with everyone's attention, the Dutch defender texted you, first to know how you were doing after you had to leave the pitch because of a bad tackle and then to ask you something about one of her next matches.

----

Two days later, you were told that your little injury would make you miss the next two games. You mentally cursed yourself because you knew when you went to the ball that you wouldn't avoid getting hit by the defender. Tryin not to overthink, you asked to take at least one week for you, which the coach was happy to give you. You used this week to help Laura and Leah with their injuries; you also spent some time with your mom and your aunt before you booked a flight to Germany. You don't know how, but your mom told you a few days prior that someone sent you a ticket for the DFB-Pokal final between Wolfsburg and Freiburg.

At the airport, you were surprised to see Lynn and Jill waiting for you. They helped you with your luggage, and they explained to you that the ticket was Dom's idea. Of course it was hers; she always perfectly knew how to read you, so when she saw how Lena talked about you and how you acted, she knew for you that somehow you may have the chance to finish what you couldn't a few years ago.

On the day of the final, the VfL locker room was more secretive than usual—at least that's what Lena was thinking. Except for Lena, all the players knew something special could have happened today. Sensing the weird atmosphere and some gazes on her, the midfielder asked Jule what was happening, but after a quick glance to her teammates, she found the courage to keep her mouth shut, even if it was more suspicious. But the short brunette didn't have too much time to think about it because they had to warm up before the kickoff.

The game started like usual, and at halftime, the two teams were 1-1. Even if the girls in black and green were a little pissed by the result, they were more concerned by something else: Lena hadn't spotted you in the crown yet. But it was a good thing; that meant she was totally focused on the game and nothing else. Back from the locker room, fifteen minutes later, you saw Lena talking with Sveindis, and the midfielder seemed to sense your eyes on her because she suddenly stopped and was about to search for a reason for this strange feeling, but she was met with Alex instantly. The striker looked at her teammates with a confused look before Lena shoved the strange feeling away and made herself ready for the second half.

Like you expected from them, Wolfsburg easily won at the end of full time. The joy quickly erupted from one side of the stadium, and of course, you were among the ones who were celebrating. After a few minutes, you waited for them to give both teams their medals and the cup for your best friend's teammates, and then you were escorted by a guy from security to the pitch to your own surprise. Once on the pitch, you were quickly dragged to the group of players by Lynn, and there you congratulated the girls until you found yourself behind a certain number 5. Ewa Pajor was talking to Lena until she saw you; she just looked at you and excused herself to her teammates.

A little confused Lena decided to search for Jule, but when she took a step back, she collided with someone, and when she turned around to apologize, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She blinked her eyes quickly, making you laugh, and when she heard your voice, she finally found her voice back. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, rude. I thought you would be happy to see me," you replied.

She stood there for a moment, processing everything, and when she came back to her senses, she enveloped you in a tight hug. It took you by surprise, but you finished by reciprocating the hug. With her, everything seemed easier. The little touches, the confessions, the hugs and–and now it clicked in your mind, an almost forgotten feeling.

"I thought you wouldn't see me play until June, but wait, aren't you supposed to have a match this weekend?"

"Yeah, but thanks to a certain defender, I sprained my ankle, so I can't play for now, but I should be alright for the next week." You informed her.

"Oh, that sucks" she commented.

"Yeah, but I should be back in training the next Monday," you assured her.

"I see," she said, looking around to see a lot of eyes on her. "Uh, actually, it's cool that you are here because there is something I have wanted to ask you for a moment now."

"Uh, yeah, me too, actually." You smiled when you saw her surprised expression, but you couldn't brush away all the attention. "Do you mind if we go somewhere a little more calm?" She nodded, and you followed her a little farther in the tunnel. You stood there for a few seconds without saying anything; you were just admiring her. "So, first, congratulations for your victory; it was a great game; you played very well, like always." She blushed at your praise, "but I'm here for another thing. I want to tell you something, but please don't interrupt me until I finish, right?" After a little hesitation, she nodded.

"Okay, I don't know where to start, so I'll just start from the beginning. I wanted to apologize again for letting you go without telling you anything a few years ago. I know you already accept my excuses, but I need to tell you why I did what I did. At first, I planned to ask you out for the end of the season, and then it happened what happened but I didn't have the courage to talk to you about it because I feared that somehow you would reject me, so I used my travel as an excuse to stop talking to you. But then, there was this friendly game when I saw you, and when you didn't seem to be angry by that, I realized that I messed up. And after that, there was our first game in the Champions League, and my crush for you came back. Well,  it's not really a crush; it's a strongest feeling. It's like I'm–"

"In love?" Lena interrupted you.

"Uh, yeah, but how do you?"

"Because I feel it too. Honestly, I should be angry about everything, and I was when you left me, but then I learned what happened with your mom and I saw you play for Arsenal, and it was like all the anger dissipated because I had seen you for a long time and you seemed happy. I wanted to ask you out too before you moved out, but I never had the chance. I don't even know how long I've fallen in love for you, but I don't know it's—I don't know."

"It's easy?" You asked, and her look told you that it was exactly what she was searching for. "Me too. I don't know why, but it's so easy to fall for you. I don't know if it's because of your eyes, your smile, your heart, or everything, but yeah, I love you. So, after four years, I can finally say this: Lena, would you go with me tonight on a date?"

The midfielder wrapped her arms around your neck before slowly approaching your face. She gave you enough time to push her, but when you didn't, she kissed you. You only pulled appar when you needed some oxygen, and Lena was giving one of her brightest smiles.

"So?" you asked when you remembered she didn't give you a proper answer.

"I would love to."

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7 p.m." you said before quickly pecking her lips when you heard some footsteps coming in your direction. Lena's teammates found you totally engulfed in Lena's little body. You saw Jill and Lynn exchanging excited faces while Dom seemed to be proud of her work.

After the team saw the two of you, you were required by almost all the youngest players and Jill to explain what happened. Dom stayed behind with a blushing Lena: "I told you," the denfender told her. The midfielder just looked at her and gave her a hug to thank her.

[angsthology]

☾ intro to jupiter nightshade (ft. the commentary by yours truly)

-> series masterlist

Jupiter Nightshade.

How do you even begin to describe her?

Jupiter was everyone’s dreams and everyone’s nightmare.

You love Jupiter, you hate her, you admire her, you’re terrified of her, you want to be her, you want to be with her.

Some people even say that she’s a real daughter of the sky — others even dared say she is the God Jupiter of the sky.

But those were just rumors, probably.

Hard not to believe those when the woman looked like she belongs in a museum of fine art. Models envy her, they kiss the ground she walks on and thank whatever higher power that she decided to join the world of motorsports. She would render them all jobless if modelling was her actual career rather than it being an occasional obligation.

The gods really took their time with her. Dark, jet-black hair cascades down her back — she never really keeps it long, she had to wear layers a lot and she was not a fan of the itch and heat restrictions it gave her so she always opted for a short messy haircut. Her skin glowed olive, under the sun, it often looked like she was made of part-gold. But, oh, dio mio!—as she would say—her eyes, her eyes; they’re the magnet to all that is deserving, they’re blessed to those lucky enough to have been even looked upon with those eyes. Both a piercing shade of emerald green—only, here’s the twist, the drop of uniqueness to it; her left eye was split into two between the striking green and a soft brown.

Call it dramatic but what I say doesn’t stray far from the truth.

That was her looks. I can’t even begin to describe the talent, the spirit she possesses.

“THAT’S P1, KID! P1 ON YOUR FIRST RACE!” her engineer yelled in her radio, his words coming out of his mouth along with breaths of disbelief.

The racer hadn’t even heard a word he said, she was far too busy taking in the glory of the shock coming from the stands. There were occasional boos of course, but of course that doesn’t begin to beat the cheers coming for her. The rookie.

She was on a high, one she has never felt before. Not even when she was named F2 champion or any other race she’s won before. Formula One was a new kind of glory for her and boy she was already hungry for more.

That hunger? Never went away for the rest of her rookie season. Jupiter Nightshade was a mad woman and that made everyone (all the good ones anyway) fall in love with her.

God, she could never be full of the glory. Every moment she managed to get more it only makes her even hungrier for more.

“JUPITER NIGHTSHADE YOU ARE A GOD!” the energetic yells of her team principal boomed through her radio, almost making her flinch.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” she said smugly.

Ugh, what a smug little shit.

I still think she’s cool or whatever.

Think what you want to think about Jupiter Nightshade but everyone can always agree that she’s full of surprises.

Really, she didn’t know where it came from. One second she was kissing her winning trophy while perched up on the second and third driver’s shoulders, the next; champagne was everywhere and she was in the air — mouthful of champagne, (she’s young, she’s free, and most importantly, she was a winner. She thought.) she sprayed the liquid that was already in her mouth to the P2 holder, completely surprising them—not that they’re mad or anything about it, they were just taken by surprise by it and let it happen. Then she turned to the lucky three with a smirk on her face; the man was quick to try and duck away but she was faster than that (on-track, off-track, there isn’t much difference between her), spraying right into his face.

And, really, that was how it started.

It was… an interesting, but hot nonetheless—according to the Twitter sapphics anyway. (They’re right.)

But being one of the greatest always came with its negatives — worse when you’re a woman.

She was the world champion.

She was a rookie driver in a Renault with a world champion.

And yet… they are boo-ing her.

On the internet, anyway.

Which makes it even better. If they’re not brave enough (or, rich enough to even attend a Grand Prix) to say it to her face, what real value do their words even have?

But for now, she can only accept her first domination under the building lightning storm in the sky.

And hence, born was her first nickname—and I’m not talking about the world driver’s champion—no; from then on, the daughter of the sky was born.

What a scam! — 2019 spat out, Jupiter was called the rookie with immense beginners luck.

Cunt. She thought.

The media that once ridiculed her then acted as if they never doubted her a day in their life was once again turning their back on them.

Typical, she thought. Fame-hungry-worthless-losers with no sense of wording in their body whatsoever.

When asked about it, her answer was simple; the only answer she had given to the world that retched year:

“The car is finally realizing who’s driving it and just couldn’t keep up.”

Renault was angry.

How. Dare. She.

They gave her an F1 car for the first time in her career, they catered her to a championship in it, and this is how she repays them?

At that, she rolls her eyes, “What, like I’m wrong?”

You make a car that accommodates a champion’s needs, you get a champion.

Nightshade is not for the weak.

So when she made her move to Red Bull in 2020 many was not surprised — ‘it’s been a long time coming.’ (I know right, why didn’t she do it sooner?) — ‘of course, she did.’ (the fuck you mean by that?) — ‘oh, great, more overconfident Red Bull drivers, just what we need.’ (damn, right it’s what we need.) — and my personal favorite: ‘was she not already in Red Bull?’ (oh they wished they had hired her sooner.)

By the time her third WDC came around, people have already treated her like an evil dictator taking over Formula One.

The internet (and, Netflix too probably) have successfully painted over her spirit turning her into this soul-sucking, dream-stealing, non-caring of others’ well-being person.

Everyone was suddenly far too busy looking for her faults; everyone.

Did they care that she’s a woman dominating in a male-dominated sport? Not anymore (they miss having their favorite white man win.)

Did they even bother caring about who she was doing this for? (No, why should they? She’s not of any relevance.)

Did they even bother opening their eyes to the fact that Jupiter Nightshade is a good person.

To look past her brash personality, interesting habits, and behavior and just see her for what she stands for, to what she is proving; that how the media—the world treats her gender unfairly when the opposite can do the exact same thing (hell, sometimes even worse) and not be bashed as much as she was getting.

They can say what they want about her but she’ll be the one hearing “You are the world champion!” in her ears at the end of the season.

not proofread | taglist; @disneyprincemuke (no one was surprised) + ask to be added 🥳

[namsoek]

all models found jobless

[joshualunacreations]

In 2022, Corinne Tan was announced as the American Girl Doll of the Year and heavily promoted as a way of raising awareness about anti-Asian racism during COVID. But what message did her story send?

When Corinne Tan debuted, AsAms were offended by the synopsis and how it centered a white man in what's supposed to be a COVID racism story. Once I heard the book had been fast tracked for two live-action specials on HBO Max and Cartoon Network, I knew more harm was coming. In the rare instances Western media talks about anti-Asian racism, it's downplayed. Instead, narratives are used to reinforce the 1) Model Minority Myth, 2) Asian gender divide, and 3) "correct" levels of assimilation. Unsurprisingly, Corinne Tan’s story does all of these.

There's a place for stories about divorce and blended families, but this story isn't it. COVID racism is specifically about the threat of AAPI being verbally or physically assaulted by non-AAPI. The author's choice to emphasize conflict within an Asian family is inappropriate.

Instead of empathizing with David Tan's inability to work during the pandemic—a real problem that has devastated many AAPI families and businesses—it's the reason Judy divorces him. The story not only erases racism as a reason for AAPI pandemic joblessness, but victim-blames. It implies her parents have an antagonistic relationship because her dad isn't white and rich, and that makes him an inferior romantic partner. Despite referencing a slur meant for Asian men, the story never acknowledges that her dad experiences racism too.

Another appalling aspect is how Corinne, an 11-year-old girl, is responsible for teaching a grown white man to empathize with her experiences of racism—because her mom won't. Not only does Judy never talk to Arne about racism, she lets him gaslight Corinne in front of her. Judy seems fixated on wealth and achievement over her daughters' emotional safety. When the family lived with David, the walls were decorated with the daughters' artwork. In Arne's house, Judy is concerned with protecting the aesthetic chosen by Arne's professional decorator.

This is why the Eileen Gu poster becomes such a sticking point. While David encourages his daughters to embrace Chinese culture in everything, Judy seems to apply it only to her restaurant. Is it because Arne tells her he hoped marrying a chef would mean never buying takeout?

Meanwhile, Arne, a rich white businessman—who calls himself Goldilocks and whose behavior the author describes as "clueless" racism—gets sympathetic treatment. His fear of heights and dogs is equated to Corinne's fear of racists, as if it's a phobia to overcome via willpower.

Recall that the purpose of Corinne Tan's story is to educate about AAPI experiences with racism during COVID. Mattel, owner of American Girl, hired a panel of AsAm academics and consultants to tell her story with "authenticity and accuracy." So how did it turn out so harmful?

It's because the AsAm consultants for this project and many similar projects—like Dr. Jennifer Ho—are out-of-touch with our community. Insulated by wealth and/or whiteness they've chosen, they think they've acknowledged their privilege, but their work shows they're still reinforcing it.

The broader problem is that racist and misogynist white men control media. Regardless of gender, sexuality, or marital status, AAPI are given media power only when they internalize and repeat white men’s messaging. This isn't limited to fiction—it affects real-life activism too.

A picture says a thousand words, and it speaks volumes that Stop AAPI Hate chose to literally center white men in the photo accompanying their hate crime data report summarizing the past two years. Of those "thousands of voices," it isn't hard to guess who's prioritized. Stop AAPI Hate pushes the same message as Corinne Tan's story: racist white men deserve more humanity and sympathy than actual AAPI male victims. Hating and erasing AAPI men is required to show that you're a "safe" Asian deserving of resources and support. (see my data thread about how hate crime data is manipulated to erase AAPI men as victims)

It's bad enough that an entire gender is being cut out from resources and empathy, but what Corinne Tan’s story reveals is another disturbing trend: AAPI youth are being groomed into normalizing having racist white men in their lives, specifically in their families and homes.

Corinne Tan is a middle grade story (ages 8-12). For its consulting, Mattel partnered with AAPI Youth Rising, a non-profit led by AAPI middle schoolers. At the time, Dr. Ho was president of the Association for Asian American Studies, which helps shape AsAm studies in schools. It's not a stretch to think Corinne's mom Judy, who puts Corinne in harm's way by refusing to address her white husband’s "clueless” racism, is reflective of the behavior of AAPI adults involved in Stop AAPI Hate and other AsAm orgs—they gave the story their stamp of approval.

Anti-Asian hate crimes against AAPI should've brought the community closer together. Instead, we've been segregated further, and the AAPI who hurt the community the most have hoarded the empathy, media attention, and resources for themselves. How can any of us heal like this?

(Please don’t repost or edit my art. Reblogs are always appreciated.)

If you enjoy my comics, please pledge to my Patreon or donate to my Paypal.

https://twitter.com/Joshua_Luna/status/1134522555744866304 https://patreon.com/joshualuna https://www.paypal.com/paypalme2/JoshuaLunaComics

[lemon-koii]

❛ ،其 ::Twisted wonderland family hcs

My headcanons and thoughts on what the twst cast's family is like

●°●°●°●

Pt 2(Savanahclaw), Pt 3(Octavinelle & Scarabia), Pt 4(Pomefiore & Ignihyde), Pt 5(Diasomnia)

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒖𝒍

𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

His parents are divorced sa thats why they dont get along well. His mother got full custody of him while his dad only got 2 hour visits every saturday

He has an little sister named who is a year younger than him. He doesnt know that he has a younger sister since his parents never told him and they got divorced after his sister was born a few months. Plus she lives with their father. She doesnt know about it too

His mother had him when she was 25 years old and his father was 27 years old

When he was a child he had mixed feelings about his father visiting him every once a week. His father is a "good" man. He's much more calm, less controlling and always have a pleasant smile on his face. But whenever he visits, it doesnt go Riddle's way of spending time with his father but, his mother and father arguing and screaming for 2 hours straight. Sometimes, his father only stays for 45 minutes or an hour

Now that his older, there's still a tiny hope in him to talk to his father. But he's scared since he was never close to him and if he tells his mother about the call

He once saw a picture of a baby with pure white hair in his mothers drawer and she got really mad and screamed at him so he never bought up the topic ever again. Although, he still wonders about it

𝑇𝑟𝑒𝑦 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟

He has 3 younger brothers a 1 younger sister. The first 2 are twins who are 4 years younger than him, the 3rd brother is 5 years younger and his sister is 7 years younger

Trey and his sister are the only ones in the family with magic. He got his UM at 12 years old and his sister got hers at 10 years old

His parents got married when they were 20 and meet eachother in their teens. Had Trey at the age of 28

His father is quite a care free and easy going but strict when needed type of dad.

After when Riddles mom went to their bakery shop to confront the parents, Trey's dad didnt got mad at him but told him to always stay in line and never stand out so that no trouble would get in his way again

The bakery have been past down frim the mothers side from Trey's great-grandmother, reasoning its popularity

The last name "Clover" came from his mother since she never changed her last name when she got married since she wanted to keep her family name

In general, the Clovers are a pretty normal family(except for Trey im sorry) so there not much to say about them

𝐶𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑

(We already know that he has two sisters and his father is a banker. As far as i know, he hasn't mentioned anything about his mother)

His mother used to be a model before she gave birth to his older sister. Now that she's jobless and finacially dependant on her husband. Which is spending them on clothes, products, alcohols, make up, designers and other things

Both his sisters go to a rich ass private school(NRC is better than theirs) that focuses more on sports

His sisters are slightly jealous that Cater has magic. Although they never really did anything about it except dumping their chores on him and telling him to use his UM to complete it all

His sisters always calls him, asking him how school is then proceds to ask about Vil. So does his mother

His father is a cold, patient, no-nonsence and well mannered type of person, although he's rarely home. If he is, he's either working on his office or sleeping. So Cater rarely spends time with him

There are 6 animals in their household since each of them have their own pets

Cater has 2 ferrets, named Cizy and Yena

His mother has a pomeranian, both his sisters have a British shorthair cat and his fathers has a Gecko

𝐷𝑒𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑒

Since he was raised by his mom alone, im taking it that she gave birth to him when she was 18 years old from a night with her boyfriend(Deuces dad)

Both his parents used to be in gangs. His father was well respected and known in the delinquent community while his mother wasnt that much known but was still respected

They quited when they found out that they will be having a child(Deuce)

His father died before Deuce was born due to old delinquent enemies wanting revenge as they thought that he had gotten weak from his new domestic life

His fathers death affected his mother so much that Deuce's grandmother was the one who took care of Deuce when he was only 4 months old

Even after this, his mom stayed strong for Deuce and doesnt want gim to follow her's or his fathers footsteps. Which failed(ifykyk)

His mom was always busy when he was a child to provide for the both of them, so she would always hire a babysitter and occationaly, call Deuce's grandmother. Even so, she would still try as much as she can to spend time with him

But due to Duece growing up not being always spending time with his moma and his absent father, it led him to his delinquent life

𝐴𝑐𝑒 𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑙𝑎

His family is suprisingly normal???

His mom is an accountant and his dad is a sea-man

While his brother is a profecional basketball player

His brother is 21 years old

Him and his brother are half siblings since his mother already had his older brother before she remarried and then Ace was born

Even if their only half related, they still treat eachother like real brother. His older bro would beat up anyone commenting anything bad about their family

His mom is a Filipina and his dad is british so Ace his half and while his brother is full Filipino

His mom is a loving and up to date with trends type of mom while his dad is...moody.

As much as Ace loves his dad, he cant help but feel his guard up whenever he's in the same room as him.

Ace doesnt like if to much good things happen to much since i gets his hopes up of having a good day but he knows that sooner or later that day that something bad will happen

Like, when he was joking and talking about basketball with his father. At first it was light hearted and jokes, then it turned to him getting lectured. Them as a family having a movie night turning into a silent fight between his parents.

Empty promises and him remembering peoples footsteps

Ace has trust issues due to this but doesnt show it. And he's good at acting about it too since no one ever noticed this

Ace and his cousins from his moms side get along really well unlike with his cousins from his dads side

He had a jejemon phase because of his brother and cousins. He would fake puke every time they mention anything about it

His mother was 27 when she met Ace's father who was 29 and his brother was 2 years old

Lived in the Philippines until he was 9 years old and they moved to the queendom of roses

●°●°●°●

Apologies if there are any typos since english isnt my first language

(▪︎Pretend that Philippines is an existing country in Twst)

[bungalowbear]

The Curse of Mother Grime

Pairing: jobless!Naoya Zen’in x fem!reader

Summary: A museum date with Naoya produces unwanted circumstances.

Warnings: mention of male masturbation, some foreplay, suggestion of sex at the end, reader is described to have breasts, curse from a dead woman, naoya can’t get it up

Word Count: 2,740

A/N: This is my fun and silly little entry for @bastardblvd’s House of Slimy Horrors Collab. My prompt was curses. This is my first time writing Naoya, so if you feel anything is ooc it probably is. You’re also seeing him at arguably his lowest point lol. Also, I have an obsession with Grime Town McDonald’s, so I couldn’t stop myself from adding it here. I had so much fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy! And happy haunting season!

Dividers by @anlian-aishang.

The Grime Town History Museum is a spare room on the second floor of City Hall, a donation from some sunglasses model during his failed attempt at running for Mayor. You’re here with Naoya because it’s your turn to choose where to have date night and you think he can use some cultural enrichment.

“A museum?”

Naoya frowns, staring at the tattered banner above the double doors.

“I’ve always wanted to have a cute museum date.” You do a little spin to show off the outfit you meticulously chose for the occasion. “And it’s my turn to pick so you can’t back out.”

“Whatever.”

Naoya throws his arm across your shoulders and you both walk through the open doors. You take in the state of the room. The floral patterned wallpaper is faded, peeling at the top corners. There’s a large rust colored stain in the carpet that you take care to walk around. The subtle damp smell makes your sinuses feel a bit stuffy.

But you’re determined not to show any signs of discomfort, instead opting to guide Naoya along the wall lined with old newspaper clippings thumb tacked to the walls. Some are older and some more recent. You both share a laugh over the article about the Condom Shortage of 2007. 

After perusing the newspaper articles you cross the room toward the only thing on the wall that’s not pinned. A sepia toned portrait of a woman hangs in a bronzed frame. The plaque below her portrait says she was the wife of Grime Town’s founding father. To the right there’s a vanity secured by caution tape. The vanity is made of dark wood with a large oval mirror. The piece was clearly made by expert hands as the floral carvings around the mirror are stunning.

Naoya notices a piece of paper stapled to the caution tape and bends down to read it. 

“Beware: if you look into the mirror and say her name three times you’ll be afflicted with the same curse she put on her husband,” Naoya recites.

He hums, standing up straight.

“That’s a little…weird,” you say.

“Dare me to do it?”

“I don’t know.” You bend down the reread the sign. “It doesn’t even say what the curse is. What if you go bald?”

“It’s probably just a scare tactic. It is almost Halloween.” Naoya scoffs. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

Before you can protest further, Naoya stands directly in line with the vanity. He squats down to be at eye level with the mirror and says her name three times. You hold your breath, waiting for something to happen. After a long minute of nothing you startle, heart racing when Naoya suddenly lets out a booming laugh.

“See. I told you,” Naoya says through his laughter. “Nothing happened.”

You grab his arm, scolding him for scaring you. But he ignores you and continues laughing as you pull him along to the next display.

The next day you’re at Spirit Halloween for your early afternoon shift when your phone vibrates in your back pocket. You ignore it as you help two teenagers decide between matching devil or lumberjack costumes. Eventually they decide to just get one each. After they’re gone you realize your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing, so you ask your manager if you can step away from the sales floor to use the restroom. 

When you turn the lock on the stall door you take out your phone. A picture of Naoya asleep with drool sliding down the corner of his mouth lights up your screen. You swipe to answer the call and wince when his voice pierces through the speaker. But his words are coming out too fast for you to make sense of them.

“Slow down, Naoya,” you tell him. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I was watching Days of Our Grimes and you know I like to stick my hand down by boxers when the housewife—”

You growl into the receiver. “Get to the point.”

“I can’t get hard.”

You pause, brow furrowing as your mind processes his words.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” he whines.

“I don’t understand.”

“My dick is broken! Mother Grime fucking cursed me!”

“Naoya.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This isn’t funny. I’m at work.”

“I’m not joking,” he insists. “This is serious!”

“I have to get back. We’re really busy. Halloween is in a week and the entire store is half off.”

“But—”

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” you promise as you’re about to end the call. “Bye!”

After his stint as a dealer went sideways Naoya spends most of his time moping around your apartment, which is why you’re certain the phone call was just a cry for attention. You feel a little bad about hanging up on him so you decide to surprise him.

When you step into your apartment you slip your shoes off and hang up your jacket.

“Naoya,” you call out to him. “I’m back.” 

There’s no answer.

“Naoya?”

You hold the plastic bag to your chest as you wander through the living room and the kitchen with no sign of him. Shuffling down the narrow hallway, you reach your bedroom to find the door wide open. You frown at Naoya face down on your bed with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish. 

“Hey.” You try to turn him over but he doesn’t budge. “What are you doing?” 

You can’t make out what he says as he mumbles, kind of pathetically, into your comforter. You try moving him again but this time you can feel him purposefully resisting. You huff, rolling your eyes before going into the bathroom. 

Locking the door behind you, you place the plastic bag on the counter and take out the costume you brought home. With the sale going on and your employee discount it was practically free. You feel giddy as you start to undress and then slip into the costume. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, applying gloss to your lips and touching up your mascara before opening the bathroom door.

“Naoya.” 

You say his name softly, a gentle prod for his attention, as you stand in the doorway with your hands folded in front of your stomach. He doesn’t react, so you try again.

“Naoya, baby?” You voice is sickly sweet with fabricated concern. This wouldn’t be the first time the two of you role-played in the bedroom, and you’re sure once you get him to look your way you’ll have him in your clutches. “Are you not feeling well? Maybe I could nurse you back to health?”

You watch Naoya slowly lift his head, turning slightly to look at you over his shoulder. His eyes widen and he perks up. Hastily, he turns his body to sit up. His gaze travels from the nurse’s cap on your head and down your body clad in a tight white uniform. Naoya stares at your chest, where the top two buttons are left undone to expose more of your cleavage. You turn in a slow circle to give him the opportunity to see the back of the short skirt that barely covers your ass.

Naoya says your name in a breathy whisper. You recognize the lust in his eyes. The way his fingers twitch with the anticipation of grabbing hold of you sends shivers down your body.

You walk toward him and as soon as you’re within reach his hands go directly to your chest, roughly grabbing and squeezing your soft flesh. One hand wanders down to your waist and then to your back. Naoya’s touch travels over the swell of your bum and reaches further to take a large handful of your left cheek. Hungry kisses are pressed along your neck as his touch sets your body ablaze. You need him so badly that you start to palm him through his pants. It usually doesn’t take long to get him hard, but after a few minutes you realize he’s still completely soft.

“Uh…Naoya?”

“I told you.” He drops his head in defeat, words muffled with his face resting between your tits. “I’m fucking cursed.”

“There’s no such thing as curses.”

You chuckle and he grips your waist firmly with both hands in response.

“Then why am I still limp when all I want to do is shove my dick inside you?”

“It’s all in your head.” You soothe your hand over his dyed blonde hair. “We can do other stuff in the meantime.”

“I’m telling you, it’s that bitch—”

Suddenly, a sharp crack makes the two of you jump. You turn your heads to your full length mirror and gape at the glass that is now splintered right down the middle.

“Maybe we should consult an expert,” you say.

Standing at the McDonald’s counter, you greet Aki with a smile and he stoically returns the greeting. Naoya hovers behind you as you order yours and his usual meals. Aki asks if that will be all. You’re prepared to say yes when Naoya lowers his head to whisper in your ear.

Aki raises a brow.

“And a pumpkin pie, please,” you say.

You pay and walk over to the soda fountain. As you’re pouring your drinks you catch the tail end of something crawl underneath a table. You grab Naoya by the hand and lead him toward the corner of the dining room.

You bend down and see Toji and his worm splitting a single french fry. 

“Hello, Toji.”

“Hey, gorgeous.” The older man flashes you a cocky smile, stretching the scar on his lip. Then his eyes move to Naoya and he frowns. “What do you want?”

“Did we really have to come and see him?” Naoya asks.

“He’s the best chance at solving your…problem.”

“Little cousin’s got a problem, huh?” Toji sits with his legs crossed. He leans forward to rest his massive forearms over his knees. “And what would that be?”

Naoya hesitates. He sips on his drink and looks away.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Tell him.”

The younger Zen’in pouts. He heaves a giant sigh before turning his head away, muttering out a few words. You roll your eyes. Toji brings his hand up to curve around his ear.

“What was that?”

“My dick can’t get hard,” Naoya hisses, glaring at his cousin. “There. I said it. Happy now?”

Toji laughs, a full bellied laugh. But then his brow furrows and he’s looking at you.

“What do you want me to do about it? Jerk him off?” Toji curls his lip in disgust. “Just because I changed my name to Fushiguro doesn’t mean we’re not still related. Who do you think we are? Targaryens?”

“Ew, babe.” Naoya mimics his cousin’s expression. “Is that what you brought me here for?”

“No, you idiots.” You drag your hand down your face. “Toji ran the fortune telling booth at the summer block party, so he has some experience with the supernatural.”

“Supernatural?” Toji sounds intrigued. “What exactly happened, little cousin?”

Naoya recounts your museum date. He tells Toji about Mother Grime’s vanity, the cracked mirror in your room, and how he hasn’t been able to get an erection since.

“Did you not see the caution tape? The paper stapled to it?” Toji shakes his head at the end of Naoya’s recap. “Every guy in this town knows not to go messing with Mother Grime unless you never want another boner ever again.”

“No one told me!” Naoya argues.

Toji shrugs.

“So can you, like, look into your crystal ball or whatever and tell me how to fix this?”

“Depends.” Toji rubs his chin. “Let’s talk payment.”

“What do you want?”

Toji hums as he contemplates, his cheek resting on his propped up fist as he stares at the floor. After a few short seconds he angles his face up at Naoya. The smile he wears can only mean misery for the younger Zen’in.

“I want your pumpkin pie.”

“I didn’t get a pie,” Naoya denies immediately.

“You always get a pie,” Toji retorts.

Naoya clenches his jaw, annoyed that he’s been caught.

“I’ll buy you another one,” you whisper.

Naoya looks at you out of the corner of his eye, obviously displeased, but one nod from you has some of his tension falling away.

“Fine.”

Toji smiles, victorious, and pats the floor in front of him. Naoya scoots closer, ducking his head to fit underneath the table. You giggle at the sight of the two grown men hunched over to fit in the tight spot.

“Give me your hand,” Toji says.

“What for?”

“I’m going to read your palm.”

Naoya reluctantly does as he’s told. “I thought you used a crystal ball?”

Toji grins, haughtily. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Naoya rolls his eyes.

“So what does my hand say then? What do I have to do?”

Toji hums, turning Naoya’s hand this way and that. The older Zen’in traces a large finger over the lines of his cousin’s palm.

“You’re not going to like it,” Toji warns.

“I don’t care. I’ll do anything.”

Toji chuckles. He knows his cousin means it.

Aki calls out your order and you go to the counter. You eye the cousins warily before going to collect your food. You ask Aki for another pumpkin pie but he says they’re out. You sigh, your head already aching because you know Naoya is going to throw a fit.

Naoya walks into the living room with a sour expression. You snicker as he pulls down at the hem of the puffed out skirt of the maid costume. 

“It’s too short,” Naoya complains. “It barely covers anything.”

“Just the way you like it,” you tease.

He throws you a glare before snatching the feather duster off the low table. Per Toji’s instructions, Naoya is to be your maid for three days. One day for each time he chanted Mother Grime’s name. And lucky for you the first two days happens to be on your days off.

So you watch from the sofa as he cleans the apartment. Sweeping, scrubbing, dusting. You ask him for the occasional refill on your snacks and he dutifully, yet begrudgingly, fulfills your every request. Watching him cook is even more enjoyable. After he burned the rice he opted instead to prepare instant ramen.

When you go back to work on the third day you expect Naoya to have shirked his duties but when you get home he greets you at the genkan. The apartment is spotless. There’s dinner ready for you. Ramen again, but this time with a thick piece of ham and a soft boiled egg split between your two bowls. You’re very impressed and you tell him so, not missing the way his eyes shine from the praise.

The morning after the third day you wake up to something hard pressing against your back. You don’t recognize it for what it is until Naoya suddenly gasps and sits up in bed. He shoves the covers down, leaving you shivering at the sudden cold air, and lifts the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes!”

“N’oya,” you whine, blindly grabbing the cover and pulling it over your head. “I’m tryna sleep.”

“But, babe, I’m cured. We can do it now!”

His excitement would be endearing if it weren’t so early in the morning. You burrow further into the mattress, intent on ignoring him and hoping he’ll just take care of himself.

“C’mon.” You feel his large presence hover over you. “It’s been so long and I really want my first time again to be with you.”

You groan in protest. 

“I can put the maid costume on.” Naoya pauses. His eyes meet yours when you peek your eyes out from under the cover. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you checking me out. Or how much you liked bossing me around.”

He looks down at you in silence. Then a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth when you drop the cover to expose the rest of your face.

“Okay,” you agree. “But you have to make me breakfast after.”

Naoya leaps out of bed and into the closet. You smile to yourself as you watch him change into the costume, frantic and desperate to finally put his rehabilitated member to use again, and send a silent thanks to Mother Grime.

[minzbins]

lee know leaving all models jobless

[canirove]

The Nanny Diaries | Chapter 1

Summary: Have you ever watched that movie with Scarlett Johansson where she works as a nanny for a very rich family, and Chris Evans is her very hot and cute neighbour? Well, that’s kind of been my life for the past few months. Hot neighbour included.

Author’s note: This story has been on my drafts for ages, and I wasn’t planning on posting it because when I finished it I didn’t like it that much. I even wrote a different version with someone else. But the the other day someone liked the “imagine” that inspired it, and sinde I don’t have anything else finished to post besides “Bluebell”, I said, why not? I’m sure worst things have been posted 😅

I hope you enjoy it, and as always, thank you for reading! 💜

Next chapter

Masterlist

Have you ever watched that movie with Scarlett Johansson where she works as a nanny for a very rich family, and Chris Evans is her very hot and cute neighbour? Well, that’s kind of been my life for the past few months.

It all started when my friend Alice asked me to drive her to a photoshoot she was working in as a make-up artist. It was at a park, and they allowed people to watch as long as they didn’t bother anyone on set.

I sat on a corner next to where Alice had all her things, and just watched my friend and her colleagues work. But the one who wasn’t in the mood for just sit and watch, was Levi, the model’s three-year-old son. He kept running away from her while Alice was doing her make-up, wanting to be free and explore. And on one of those trips, he found me.

He came running towards me, falling at my feet and starting to cry. His mum was busy shooting and I didn’t want to distract her, so I picked one of Alice’s brushes and used it on his knee as if it was a magic wand.

“See? Completely healed.”

“That isn’t a magic wand” Levi said, pointing at the brush.

“Ok, fine. It is a magic brush.”

“Brushes aren’t magical.”

“This one is” I said, shaking it in front of him.

“What can it do?”

“It can turn people into animals.”

“Really?” Levi asked, his eyes wide.

“Watch this” I said, pointing the brush at myself and starting to meow, making him laugh.

“But you didn’t turn into a real cat!” he said with a big smile.

“Meow?” I said before using the brush again. “Sorry, I forgot to undo the spell.”

He laughed again, and that’s how we spent the rest of the shoot, making the other turn into different animals, other members of the crew also joining our game.

“Thank you so much for keeping him entertained” Levi’s mum said when she had finished shooting.

“Oh, it was nothing” I replied with a smile.

“Mummy, can I take this home with me?” Levi asked, showing her the brush we had been playing with.

“You’ll have to ask her” she said, nodding towards me.

“Take it, Alice won’t mind. And besides” I said, lowering my voice “she doesn’t know how to use it to make magic the way we do.”

A few days later, Alice called me.

“Remember the kid from the other day? Levi?”

“I do. Why?”

“His mum just sent me a dm on Instagram asking for your phone number. She’s wondering if you would like to take care of him while she is at work.”

“She wants me to be his nanny?”

“Something like that. Are you interested? She said she will pay you, money isn’t an issue with her. And since you are currently jobless…”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Flashforward to the present. I’ve been working for the Kloss family for three months now. At first I was just staying with Levi for a few hours here and there while his mum was at work. Then, a couple of days, spending the night at their house because Mrs. Kloss had to shoot in a different city or country, and Mr. Kloss was busy with work. And right now, I’m living with them. With her, her husband, Levi, and their housekeeper, Mrs. McKenzie. And I’m doing it properly, with my own room and everything, one way bigger than the one I had at my old apartment. Though my whole apartment probably fits just on the area designed for the staff.

And I’m not gonna lie… I love living with the Klosses. They are lovely, and so far I haven’t felt mistreated in any shape or form. I have a really good salary, I live in the most expensive and poshest area of the city (which is gorgeous), and if I need a free day that isn’t among the ones we have agreed to, they don’t say no as long as it fits with their schedule.

I’m walking back home on one of those days after a date with a really nice guy, when I spot a group of young men standing at the door of my building, laughing and screaming. Great. Drunk men, just what I need to end my night.

“Excuse me” I say to one of them. “I need to get into the building.”

“What?” the guy says, turning around to look at me.

“I live here. Do you mind moving?”

“Only if you kiss me first” he says with a stupid smile.

“Jack, don’t be a jerk and let her through” one of the other guys says.

“I was going to start the night with a kiss and you just ruined it for me.”

“Did you see her face, bro? She wasn’t going to kiss you. I actually think she was going to kick you and leave with you without offspring.”

“Off… what?”

“Nevermind. Move and let the girl pass.”

“Ok” says the first guy, Jack.

“Sorry about him. Sometimes he can be a bit… you know.”

“It’s ok, don’t worry” I say, properly looking at my savior. And damn, he is gorgeous. I don’t usually use that word with men, but it is the only one that works with him. Those eyes, that smile, that hair… Gorgeous.

“Evening Mr. Chilwell” the doorman says. “I thought you were leaving.”

“I was, but the lady here needed to get home.”

“Oh, miss, I hadn’t seen you. I’m very sorry.”

“Don’t worry Louis” I say with a smile.

“Is there anything else you may need?” he asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good” he says, going back to his usual spot.

“I didn’t know I had a new neighbour. Where do you live?”

“Third floor, with the Kloss family.”

“Oh, you must be Levi’s babysitter.”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“You definitely are an improvement from the one they had before. She was… Well. Hard to look at.”

“Rude.”

“But true” he shrugs.

“Still rude.”

“If you say so…”

If I say so? What an idiot.

“I better go, I have to wake up early tomorrow” I say, moving towards the door. “You should go back to your friends, make sure they aren’t bothering more girls.”

“They aren’t bad guys.”

“If you say so…” I say, using his same tone.

“Why are you mad?” he asks, running a hand through his hair and making me feel… things.

“I am not mad” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “Pissed? Maybe.”

“Because I called a woman ugly?”

“Exactly.”

“Whatever” he says, rolling his eyes. Those beautiful eyes of his.

“Yes, whatever. Goodnight, Mr. Chilwell” I say, walking into the lobby.

“Wait. Can I at least get a goodbye kiss? For being a gentleman and saving you from Jack.”

“You want what?” I say, not believing what I just heard.

“A kiss” he says with an innocent smile. Innocent. This guy. Ha!

“If you had any chance of getting one, which you didn’t, you completely lost it by behaving like a jerk.”

“Oh, c’mon” he complains.

“Goodnight” I say again, walking away from him.

“You are gonna end up falling for me, you know?” he says behind me. “No one has ever resisted to me. No one.”

“You are so humble, Mr. Chilwell” I snort.

“It’s Ben. My name is Ben. And it is what it is. You will fall for me just like all the others do.”

“In your dreams” I reply, daring to look at him while I wait for the lift.

“Oh, I will definitely see you there tonight…. Neighbour” he says before joining his friends outside and giving me a smile that, again, makes me feel things. And he knows it. He totally knows it.

[evansbby]

bestie i don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with this but apparently noah schnapp is really shooting his career in the foot with all his pro-zionist propaganda and it’s getting to the point that people want him fired/recasted IMMEDIATELY

some people say that jaeden martell would be a better recast for will based on his performance from defending jacob but like 😳 i have never seen defending jacob 🫣

i know jaeden’s performance from it was great but was he really that good in defending jacob i need to know i need this zionist to be jobless like YESTERDAY 😭

No it’s actually really fucking awful bc celebs like Bella and Gigi Hadid have to be SO careful with their words and how they say things meanwhile their father’s homeland and people are being b*mbed and killed, and Bella gets fired from Dior and replaced by an Israeli model. But this stupid white boy can say shit like “Zionism is sexy” and face no repercussions??? Bc I bet he will face zero repercussions for this. And the fact that he literally does not care about the literal genocide of the Palestinian people, he’s some privileged kid from New York who feels “personally scared” meanwhile he’s putting videos out saying Zionism is sexy like THIS IS INSANE. The world we live in insane. Anyone who is pro-Palestinian is INTERROGATED on TV whenever they are given a platform when all they want is freedom of their people, meanwhile Noah Schnapp can do shit like this “Zionism is sexy” and TRUST ME NO ONE WILL SAY A WORD. And by the time stranger things comes out whenever, everyone will have forgotten and they’ll be his number one fan again.

[myteavsricochet]

I've already seen some bad comparisons between Taylor and Nick and how Taylor is "jobless" because he only talks about rwrb while Nick is already moving on to other projects, these things make me too sad

*sigh* unfortunately in the last few months it has also happened to me to see these useless and stupid comparisons, the only thing we can do, honestly, is ignore it and not let it ruin the mood. They are two guys with two different paths and different careers who will always make different choices but this doesn't mean one is better than the other or busier. These people tend to forget that Taylor is also a model and has always worked in fashion, he will always have this parallel career and if he does things for fashion it doesn't mean being jobless 🫥 It's very sad that they think more about pitting them against each other than enjoying the good things but it's something that happens in every fandom every single time we have to put up with it 🫠

And personally I'm really grateful that Taylor is giving us all this content and if he also needs and loves to do so he has every right 👍🏻

[spock-smokes-weed]

Okay okay one plot point for my One Piece Sound AU is that Zoro is a kendo instructor, and works at the dojo he grew up going to as a kid. Meaning he still works with his sensei Shimotsuki

What I can piece together with Zoro’s early life (I’m still in early one piece idk anything about that gets added to his backstory later) his parents died before the events of the story, so in my AU im going to take that to mean his parents died in some kind of accident when he was a junior in high school.

Shimotsuki took Zoro under his wing cus their families were close and Shimotsuki knew what it was like to lose family. He gave Zoro a steady job at the dojo, set him up with an apartment, and supported his passion for Kendo past high school.

but shit goes south when Zoro finds out he's pregnant and has to notify his work. So again I'm in early one piece, idk anything really about this Shimotsuki guy or what's in his soul, what I do know is that he's a sexist who told his own daughter she couldn't fulfill her dreams. So I think Zoro telling him that he's pregnant with no plans to get married or mate, he'd get on a moral high horse about it. Idk if it's close to canon but I'm okay with bending the personalities of minor characters for my own stories

Essentially, he tells Zoro he would have to give up his dream of being a competitive Kendo fighter if he goes through with this, and that he wouldn't support Zoro and his "lifestyle" so he fires Zoro from working at the dojo. Pregnancy discrimination is a very real thing, and like small tourists towns aren't exactly known for being supportive of unwed pregnant ppl.

Zoro's side of the story is all about his ambition and masculinity, while he goes through something where he'll be judged and made vulnerable, and I think something like this would be a massive hit to his ego and emotional state. It makes him bottle up more, while also making him lean more on the straw hats and Sanji.

When Sanji learns Zoro is now jobless, he offers to let Zoro live with him. They have a whole posturing match about it until Zoro agrees, but ONLY until he finds another job. The plot, as one says, has thickened.

I would say there are about like two months in between when Zoro finds a new job, and I do have some plot ideas as to what will happen in that time span, but rn the important thing is that he gets a job with Mihawk. Who's a fencing instructor and another strong male omega. Mihawk takes Zoro under his wing and lets him use the fencing space to practice his kendo but also shows him some things in the ways of fencing. I like the idea of Zoro having a strong role model to look up to. Like this male omega who's comfortable in his skin and strength and would never let anyone walk over him. Also, someone who doesn't coddle him just because he's pregnant and doesn't assume he doesn't know his own physical limitations.

this is a sidenote tangent: but it really pisses me off when ppl assume people shouldn't be doing anything physical while pregnant. sure avoid stressers, but if you were incredibly physically active before getting pregnant, it's fine if you keep being that level of active, and decreasing as your pregnancy progresses. exercise is great, and it's not other people's place to tell someone what is too much, it's their body!!!! sure Zoro probably couldn't do all-out kendo matches, but there is probably a lot working out he still does, and I already know he's annoyed by people assuming he's doing something wrong by working out.

anyway post over. goodnight

[asukaskerian]

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

🌧️Share something angsty from your WIP.

🌀 this is the suburban ot4 summary that reads like a stupid book blurb but it's all i have atm :

Ichigo and Orihime were high school sweethearts and now they're a respectable young married couple with a suburban house and a child. They are sweet and loving and supportive and there is nothing missing in their life. Nope! Nothing.

Nelliel and Grimmjow sure as hell aren't married, and never mind being respectable in any way, but they managed to breed somehow so they're gonna have to deal with that. As soon as they manage to deal with being jobless and evicted.

Surely that pair of naive normies they had a pretty bad run-in with as teenagers are not going to be of any help, though... Wait... Huh. 

Oh.

🌧️ same fic!

Before they know it, it's the weekend. Nelliel and Grimmjow haven't been kicked out yet.

It's coming, she knows better than to think it's not, but so far nobody has brought it up again. 

"Because Princess is scared of confrontation and Hubby's coddling her," Grimmjow mutters. Nelliel scowls, but can't really refute that. She doesn't know them enough, for one thing.

"Or maybe they're just nice," she tries anyway, on principle.

He arches his eyebrow, and doesn't say 'isn't that what I just said?', but she hears it anyway. 

But he doesn't say it. 

Her shoulders slump; the fight goes out of her. "We can't count on that lasting," she mumbles, but really, she has no better idea than to keep being friendly and a good guest. It makes her feel less guilty, but only so much. 

"Who the fuck is counting on it?" Grimmjow shoots back, and sits at the other end of the futon, his back three-quarters turned away and just as slumped. 

He's about to go out and look for a job once again. Nelliel went out yesterday and the day before that to look into administrative solutions, financial aids, social services, but today's a Saturday. None of that will be open, and anyway they're missing so much damn paperwork; it'll take months at best to sort out. 

So far their best option is to play model guests and pray. 

"Worst thing is I like them," she can't help admitting. They're so damn sweet. It'd be easier if she had to put it on, if she didn't have to care that they're going to run out of pity at some point.

She's expecting a snappy retort, or an eyeroll, or a "I really don't", but Grimmjow doesn't say anything, just stands up all at once and goes looking for a fresher shirt. Her chest squeezes with -- something unpleasant, frustrated and off-balance, like she's being ignored. Abandoned. 

"Grim--"

"I know that."

His voice is so rough, it sounds like it should hurt his throat.

"I'm fucking trying, alright? Ain't gonna ruin this for you."

He's not looking at her, just digging into his suitcase with every muscle tight, twitchy movements like a leashed beast.

She has no idea how to sort that out. She just -- why does he keep missing the point, why does he make it sound like he's martyring himself, god, she fucking hates it. She stands, too, fists clenched. Watches his shoulders tense, watches him fail to turn to face her.

She works on her breathing. She's better than this; than always sniping. She wants to be, she knows she is, can be, it's so pleasant and, and normal to hang out with Orihime, like she was never a half-gaijin orphan dragged straight down to the underbelly of society, clinging as hard as she could to what should be. Like they're just two office ladies giggling over the coffee machine, two neighbors with matching little houses trading hair care tips and career advice. 

She wants to be calm, and fair, and happy.

Grimmjow pisses her off so much some days and the worst thing is, she knows it's a habit she has fallen into, taking things he says just a shade worse than he meant them because sometimes he does mean even worse than that. He's a foul-mouthed bastard who revels in stalking around scaring the normies, who takes people's disapproval as a reason to make them disapprove more, so she always expects it of him.

Now he exists like an animal in a trap, all desperate energy with nowhere to go and despair creeping in, and she did it; she trapped him.

"If it's going to be ruined," she says eventually, after several answers have come to her mind and been released, "then it was going to be ruined anyway. It's still a reprieve. You won't..." 

'You won't be the cause of it,' she almost says, but they both know she can't say that and mean it, so she swallows it back. 

"If I were alone it might last a few more days, but that's the same end result." She shrugs.

He's trying. She should... 

She feels kind of like shit that a part of her is surprised at how hard he's trying. She knows him well enough, she hoped enough, but another part is used to their old rhythms. There's something savagely free and so noble inside him that she wants to tear out of the defensiveness and the cynicism it's buried under. So they get together like a car crash; there are tender moments in the dark, little slices of terribly aching vulnerability, and then it builds up; she pushes him too much, too far out of his comfort zone and they break up. 

The break-up sex is always amazing. Then she's angry at herself for a while. Tells herself it's the last time she takes him back. Tells herself she was nosy and judgmental; no wonder he bailed. Tells herself next time she'll be more understanding, more patient. Tells herself he's not interested in getting over his shit and she shouldn't date projects. 

Tell herself it'll just be a hookup. 

And then he's wild and fun; neither of them ever says sorry, but they don't leave the party when the other one shows up, and then the next party they fuck, and then the next fuck they spend the night. Breaking up like a pressure valve before it gets too much, unsalvageable; not a real ending.

But they're not breaking up now. 

She wants to build him up, drag him back and away from the looming implosion; she doesn't know how. 

"... I'm going."

She wants to tell him good luck but that's going to sound doubtful, like he needs it. She wants to say she knows he can do it, he's smart and has plenty of skills; he'll hear it like a lie, or like a binding expectation. She wants...

She wants a hug.

She dredges up a smile into her voice, watching him walk through the door. "I'll massage your feet when you come back, yeah?"

He pauses in the corridor, glances over his shoulder, gives a faint, unexpected chuckle. "Oh, I'm gonna hold you to that."