#need more challenge in an already challenging life

[honeytonedhottie]

beauty and brains⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀☕️

in this post we'll talk about how to implement continual learning into ur life and how to nurture ur intellect and ur beauty, like elle woods for example…💬🎀

MINDSET ;

first off lets take a look at ur mindset. you need to be willing to learn and if ur stubborn then ur not gonna allow urself to learn and become smarter so for that reason mindset is the perfect place to start when ur starting ur beauty and brains journey.

perspective is EVERYTHING when it comes to learning. if u have the belief that "i hate math so much, im so not good at it etc etc" you're already setting urself up for failure. remember that we are in charge of our own learning.

figure out the sources of ur limiting beliefs about urself and challenge them. ask urself "why do i think im bad at math (or any other subject)" and the answers that u give urself, CHALLENGE them.

UNDERSTAND THAT ;

before we go any further understand that no subject is too complicated to learn and if ur experiencing that then ur learning it the wrong way…💬🎀

if ur having a hard time understanding a subject in school because of the way ur teacher explains it, ask another teacher at ur school and if that doesn't work turn to online resources OR just ask chat gpt. i ask chat gpt to help me break down math problems and explain how to do them and it works rly good for me.

READING ;

from my own experience i feel like reading is so so important. bcuz reading helps u to expand ur vocabulary and improves comprehension and so much more. personally i love to read so this isnt hard for me to do but if u originally dont like to read here are some ways to romanticize reading.

♡ start with topics/genres that u love

♡ set small goals (like reading for 5-10 minutes a day) and then building upon those goals

♡ experiment with physical books, e-books etc to figure out what u like best

WHAT U WATCH ;

i watch a lot of discussion based youtube videos, and video essays, documentaries etc and i have learned so much from them and they're actually one of my favorite ways to learn things. so i highly recommend watching some. watching things like this is so important because they provide a deeper understanding of real-world issues, cultures, and events that we might not encounter in our daily lives.

HOW TO UNDERSTAND ;

understanding what u read and what u learn is so so important. the way i make sure that i understand what im learning is through writing papers. writing papers about things that interest me or things that i learn has helped me to retain what i learn instead of forgetting it all.

another key thing to remember is PRACTICE. if u dont practice what u learn you'll literally forget it. use everything that u learn and if u can't physically use it, imagine urself using it.

MAKE IT A GAME ;

this is where the beauty aspect of the phrase "beauty and brains" comes into play. make learning like a GAME. i think thats how u get smart the best. just implement it into ur daily life.

for example if u have a habit of watching an episode of ur favorite show a day (or multiple) between episodes read for x amount of time. if u go for a run everyday listen to an audio book whilst running. think of that scene in the movie legally blonde where elle was reading her textbook while working out.

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[imnotyetfound]

My take on Five/Lila - and why they were endgame

I’ve seen so many people say that Five and Lila didn’t make any sense, and I just disagree. I've tried to really motivate why, and also why I see them as endgame. Feel free to agree or disagree.

First of all, Five and Lila share a common background of being raised plus trained as survivors and weapons. Five was molded by his time in the apocalypse, the Commission and his ruthless upbringing within the Hargreeves family, while Lila was similarly trained and manipulated by the Handler. Both of them were forced into brutal, high-stakes environments from a young age, developing a sense of independence, ruthlessness, and survival instincts that the rest of the family can’t fully relate to. We see this especially in Five and Lila’s difficulties in showing emotional vulnerability and trusting others. This shared experience means they both understand the cost of their traumatic upbringings and can relate to each other’s emotional scars in ways others just won’t be able to. So already by this, they’re somewhat bonded from the start.

In other similarities both Five and Lila possess extraordinary intelligence and tactical thinking. They challenge each other in a way no one else does. This has been an ongoing thing between them, bouncing off each other and sometimes teaming up. It’s also what drew them to work on another mission together in S4, there has always been some kind of pull/push there. Personality-wise both Five and Lila have a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the world. But despite the cynicism, they still manage to eventually relax and find humor in each other’s company. The lighter moments we’ve seen between them at times have been an interesting contrast to their otherwise serious and violent lifestyles. 

I do believe their shared backgrounds and personalities created a bond that was then further strengthened during the years they spent lost in the subway together. Isolated from the rest of the world, they literally only had each other for company. The intimacy and trust that grew between them was inevitable. When you have no one else to rely on, you’re going to develop a relationship stronger than under normal circumstances. So over those years, they must have grown close in ways that no one else could fully understand. Even though we didn't get to see every detail of how it unfolded (because the season was way too short), it’s not difficult to imagine.

I’d also say they naturally grew a bond stronger than with any other character at that time, except for the one between mother and child which is why Lila’s need to be with her children would always make her go home if given the chance. Five knew this and it’s the reason he kept the solution from her for months. 

Now, to my thoughts about their actions in regards to Diego as this is often brought up. The argument that Lila cheated on her husband with Five is understandable from a moral perspective, if we see it as just that without any context. But when you consider the circumstances it is way more nuanced. You have to look at not only the environment they found themselves in, but also the emotional and psychological journey they went through together. Their relationship was ultimately forged over a shared background and then several years of isolation. Then you add to the fact that Diego seems to have treated Lila like crap in the years leading up to the isolation, she said it herself he was always moping around and complaining while she sacrificed her life to stay at home and take care of the kids. She even told him she needed a break to reassess their relationship. I do believe her and Five had somewhat already begun an emotional affair before the isolation, the way they were sneaking off together and clearly wanted to keep their thing separate from Diego and the others. Yet they still didn’t get physical until they settled down, believing they weren’t gonna find a way back.

Also, it’s important to here consider the strength of the bond, as I mentioned earlier, that Five and Lila must have developed over those years. They knew each other better than anyone else by the end. Spending every day together in a survival situation with nothing else around would likely create an unparalleled level of intimacy and emotional closeness. This bond would probably transcend Lila’s previous relationship with Diego, and maybe even Five’s bond with his siblings. It’s been years since he returned to them and they had all grown in separate directions. Lila and Five however had recently experienced something life-changing together, and it is unfair to dismiss the strength of their connection as something unethical or out of character when their reality had shifted so drastically from when the show started.

Another important point here is how the relationship with Lila allowed Five to finally be "human" and emotionally open in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. Five was obviously emotionally detached as a result of both his past trauma and the burden of being a hyper-intelligent man in the body of a boy. With Lila, he had the chance to just feel love and trust without worrying about anything else. So I do think this outweighs his “betrayal” against his brother as people claim.

Now on to how and why Five and Lila were endgame. I’m convinced that Lila did love Five despite her choice to leave their isolation. To me this was cemented as she didn’t deny her feelings when Diego asked her straight out. If she wanted to make Diego feel better she could have easily denied her feelings for Five to reassure him. Yet even when asked twice she couldn’t do it. There was also Lila’s look of relief when Five returned to them at the end. It was Five who Lila allowed to comfort her after she said goodbye to her family, trusting him in her most vulnerable moment instead of blipping back to Diego and the others. These events showed the deep trust and emotional intimacy that still existed between them after returning to “the real world”. Despite her saying it was over. I also want to add here that Lila took Five’s hand as they were dying, the look between them was for me at least silently saying they loved each other. 

So all in all I do believe that the connection and love between Five and Lila was authentic. It also made sense. They’re able to understand each other’s emotional complexities, including their darker tendencies, without needing to change who they are. Still their time together seemed to actually have softened them both when they finally had the chance to settle down, almost as if they were healing from past trauma together. This would forge a relationship that no one else could replicate without going through the same experience. Making Five and Lila a reasonable endgame, which they also were in my eyes considering they died holding hands.

----------------------

Summary:  Five and Lila's shared background of trauma, matched intelligence, and similar personalities means they make sense. They shared a bond that was only further strengthened during their years of isolation. For 7 years they only had each other to rely on. This inevitably created an intimacy and relationship that couldn’t be compared to what they had had with anyone else. Outweighing what they did to Diego when you consider all context. Lila and Five ended up being human and vulnerable with each other on a level they hadn’t been with anyone else. Ultimately Lila’s refusal to deny her feelings for Five, her relief when he returned, him comforting her as she sent her family away and then finally them dying hand-in-hand, showed that they were endgame.

[sceletaflores]

any nasty down bad breeding kink art musings love of my life?

viciously yanked me out of my mini challengers rut with this one because yes. yes i do have some thoughts on that.

for some reason the first thing that came to mind was virgin!art....in a universe where he somehow didn't get laid before stanford lol

like auurgggghhh virgin!art and his deep seated breeding kink. it's literally ingrained in him even before he has sex for the first time.

you're his first real girlfriend, met when you needed a tutor in accounting and art's professor suggested him.

the two of you have been dating for two months and he already knows that he loves you despite what patrick says about "playing the field a little man, you're not married to the chick."

but the thing is that art would marry you. he'd up and marry you tomorrow if that's what you wanted. he doesn’t care how crazy it sounds.

he loves you and he wants you to be his first.

maybe he wasn't entirely expecting it when you laid on your back on the mattress of his dorm, peering up at him through your lashes as you announced that you were "ready to take our relationship to the next level..."

he was hard before you finished talking.

art could barely think straight, his body reacting faster than his mind. he swallowed hard, trying to steady his hands, which had started trembling the moment you laid back on the navy blue comforter of his bed.

“are you...are you sure?" his voice came out more breathless than he intended, his brain scrambling to keep up despite all the blood rushing to his dick.

your gentle nod, paired with a soft smile that made his heart stutter in his chest was all it took for him to lose any lingering doubts.

he crawled up the mattress, leaning down to kiss you with more tenderness than urgency, his heart thudding against his ribcage like it was trying to escape his chest.

he fumbled his way through fingering you, his hands shaking with nerves even though you've done this part countless times.

it wasn't until the two of you shed all clothes, art settling himself between your legs before you were speaking, thighs twitching to close around his hips.

"you'll have to pull out, i'm off the pill."

fuck.

art's heard of that before, pulling out. usually the punchline of some jokes the guys like to tell in the locker room, or from patrick recapping his own hook-up stories.

the dirtiness of it makes his cheeks burn, and he hopes to god you can't see the embarrassing red blush he knows is there.

he takes a deep breath, steeling his resolve as he presses the leaking head of his dick to your slick hole.

"okay." his voice sounded pained, his hold on your hip probably a little too tight as he held his throbbing dick steady and nudged his hips forward until just the tip slipped inside your fluttering hole.

"oh fuck."

art’s brain short-circuits for a moment, his entire body freezing as the tight heat of you grips the head of his dick. he sucks in a shaky breath, trying to keep his cool, but every nerve in his body is screaming at him to move, to take more. to bury himself so deep he wouldn’t know where he ends and you begin.

he lets out a low groan, fingers digging into your skin, knuckles turning white with it. he wasn’t prepared for how overwhelming it would feel, like his entire life had been leading up to this exact moment.

"jesus...you're so—" he can’t even finish the sentence, his voice breaking.

"art," your hips shift beneath him, making him jolt forward, sinking just a little deeper inside you. his mind goes blank, a vast space of nothingness but the tight heat wrapped around his dick.

there's only you, your soft skin, your quiet gasps, the feeling of being wrapped in the most sinful warmth.

for a while art gets lost in the feeling. in the way you pant into his open mouth, to overwhelmed to kiss him properly. in the way your hands grip his shoulders harder with every inch he gives you. in the way you pussy shakes around him like it can hardly wait any longer.

but soon enough, art knows he's getting close, that he probably needs to pull out soon. but you're just so soft and you smell so good and your pussy is sucking his dick in so wet and warm like it never wants him to leave again.

"i can't," he grits out against your collarbone, shaking his head frantically. "i can't do it."

"don't stop," you whine, manicured nails digging into the toned muscle of his shoulders, "don't stop, baby. fuck, give it to me harder, harder please-ah!"

art screws his eyes shut as tightly as he can, brows pinched together as he presses his forehead against the sweaty skin of your shoulder. to ground himself. his hips speed up to punch out more high whines of his name from your slick lips.

there's an odd feeling working it's way through his body as he ponders his options, a wrongness flashing in the back of his mind each time he reminds himself of pulling out to spill over your stomach.

despite the fact that he's never done this before, his gut tells him no.

you deserve his come inside you, painted along your insides as he claims you for the first time.

"i can't pull out," he whines through clenched teeth, big hands tightening their hold on your waist. his voice is pinched and high in a way it's never been before, desperation leaking through his tone.

your lips fall open on a gasp, your head shaking back and forth dazedly, but he feels the way you clench around him. the way your pussy tightens up like it's trying to milk the load directly out of his aching balls.

"fuck! please don't make me baby," he begs, self restraint snapping in two as he buries his face in your neck. "lemme come in you, it'll be okay. we'll be fine, nothing gonna happen if it's only this once."

"no..." you moan, "art don't, gotta pull out..." but your hips start rising of the bed to meet his thrusts, the dirty smack of skin on skin filling his tiny single. you're dripping around him, coating his dick with a slick layer of shiny wetness.

"i can't," art repeats breathlessly, dick twitching inside you warningly.

"i need it…need you, need to come in you so fucking bad," his voice is strained and cracking, hips trembling with the effort, but you’re so tight around him, every squeeze pulling him deeper.

it's too much and not enough all at once—the heat, the wetness, the overwhelming need. it has pure kerosene burning in his veins.

"art," your legs stay wrapped snug around his hips, ankles locked over his lower back. "m'close, gonna come, fuck! i'm coming—!"

so is art. the added squeeze of you're pussy coming around shattering the last of his resolve and sending him careening him over the edge.

"fuck," your name falls from his lips in a tight groan as he unloads inside of you. flooding your pussy with warm come as his hips keep up the punishing pace he set.

art doesn't stop thrusting even as he comes so hard his vision whites out. he can't stop, like you've got some sort of magnetic field that keeps pulling him in over and over and over.

your too-loud moans and cries dissolving into sharp keens and gasps as he fucks you into over-stimulation, his hips pumping in in in as the image of his come getting fucked deeper and deeper inside of you plays on a loop in his mind.

when his arms finally give out and he collapses on top of you in a sweaty heap of limbs, your arms immediately come up to wrap around his shoulders. a pleased hum rumbling through your chest as you scratch your nails along his scalp soothingly, smug smile hidden in the sweaty halo of his hair.

art's out like a light in five minutes, falls asleep right there with his head resting on your bare-chest and his dick kept safe inside you.

patrick buys a plan-b for art the next morning when he's too nervous to face the cashier at walgreens.

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

you are love itself (君は愛そのものだ)

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, established relationship, love as worship, love as a choice, reader has a defined devil fruit ability

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

synopsis. his skin is dotted in stardust.

notes. a 1.3k look into those short moments of privacy you have with ace on the moby. i got the title from 'therefore you and me' after rewatching this amazing asl brothers animatic for the billionth time. cover comes klimt's the kiss (1908).

Everything is made of stardust; the stars that made Ace are simply visible to the eye.

They couldn't be contained in the depths of his body like the rest of the world's inhabitants. It's scattered all across his skin in a beautiful display, matching the skies they fell from. Isn't that something? You brush a hand against warm skin in awe. It's all right there. The stars themselves rest upon his skin, how beautiful is that? How could anyone want someone like that dead?

When you were children, Ace told you he would bring you the moon.

What do you need the moon for when you've been touching the stars since you were 10?

Straddling his lap, you can't help laughing as you think you'd been fighting a losing battle from the start. From the beginning, you'd been drawn to Ace and his stars and you wanted to follow where they'd go for the rest of your life.

"What's so funny?" Ace murmurs into your shoulder.

"I think I was born to love you." It is the only plausible conclusion for you to reach after 10 years of loving the same person. For the half of your life you've known him, you've chosen Ace from day one. You will continue to choose him for the rest of the life you have. You chose to chase him all around Mt. Corvo, you chose to be his friend, you chose to join his crew and your heart chose him even if your head had been slow to realize. "We don't need to find the One Piece," you murmur as you lead a trail of kisses from his shoulder to Ace's cheek. "I already have everything the world has to offer right here."

You feel Ace stiffen beneath you before he laughs sheepishly, "I think you need to have your eyes checked if you think that."

"Hey," you lean back so you can see his face. Your brows are furrowed sternly but your eyes sparkle with mischief and your lips stretch into a challenging grin. "I have better eyes than you, I can see the soul."

Ace snorts but his voice is light and as warm as the smile painting his face, "souls of the dead, yeah." Smiles suit Ace more than the frowns that were once commonplace when you were younger.

"That still counts," you protest with a chuckle. He doesn't have to believe he's worthy of it, you'll tell Ace all the same. You cup his face in your hands and enjoy the vibration of his mellifluous laughter under your fingers tips as you squeeze his cheeks. "There's a lot you can learn about this sort of stuff when you can see the dead." How the soul carries its wounds even after death. How the soul carries the essence of everything that makes something itself. How love can carry on beyond the grave.

You've seen it countless times by now in your truthfully short time of being a power holder.

The spirit of a man who wanted a few berries to leave as a surprise his husband could stumble upon to brighten his day.

An elderly woman dancing in the town square, seemingly alone following the steps she took with her lost love long ago. Unbeknownst to her, however, her love danced with all the same as they did once a long time ago.

Pods of orcas full of members past and present, refusing to part from their birth pod even in death.

How beautiful it is, a love like that.

Even while deceased, they choose to remain by their beloved all the same.

Whenever it is Ace's time, he'll take his stars with him and they will rest on his skin just as they did when he was alive. But I'll make sure you're so happy you won't want to stay, you vowed when you partook of the sea's cursed fruit. You carry this vow even now. Ace will die a happy death but more importantly, he will live a long and mirthful life.

(You can tell for as sure as your eyes are dry; the urge to cry and scream in mourning and warning nonexistent. Still it's your heart's desire that you go first so you don't ever have to risk the day you know death will come for Portgas D. Ace.)

"You know what I think," you cease your pinching, letting your lax thumbs stroke his face. Dark eyes look up at you like you're a dream and gold like sunlight rests in your chest. It's light yet heavy and even if your heart is calm, its rhythmic beating tells you something precious. And he's so, so precious. "I think that when people move on, they're reborn as someone else. Then they get to live life all over again. And one day, that's gonna happen to us."

Then you'll cease to be the 'you' you have been and so will he.

Maybe that time, you'll be raised in separate seas and there will be no trio of brothers you'll latch onto. Maybe he'll be born somewhere in Paradise but I'll be from the West Blue. Or maybe he'll be a fishman. Or a giant!

Maybe next time, Ace will be a short girl with firey auburn hair and chocolate brown eyes with the disposition to match. Or he'll be a scarred and gruff dragon moray eel fishman who is an overt romantic.

Maybe next time his stars will follow him as the marker that ties him to his previous life. Then you'll recognize him the moment you see him. But even if I don't, I'll love you then too. You don't need reminders of who he was to make you want him again.

Whatever the outcome may be, you will embrace it wholly.

"Whenever that happens, I'm gonna find you and I'm going to love you all over again. You can be a girl or a giant or a fishman." Or maybe he'll be the tiny human and you'll be the giant. It will be nice being taller than Ace for once, you tell him as much with a laugh. There's a spot of wetness at the corner of his eyes that you wipe away instinctively. "Or… maybe this world runs in one big loop and we get to be us again but that time we get to make different choices. Do the stuff we didn't do last time. But regardless of all the different things I might end up doing, the one thing that is gonna stay the same is that I'll choose you all over again."

There's a pause before Ace ducks from your gaze with a wet laugh, forehead pressed against your shoulder again. The unmistakeable feel of warm droplets subsequently follow. "Thatch must be cutting onions," he chuckles weakly. "Sorry."

"Dummy," you wrap your arms around his shoulders and inhale his scent. There's a natural sweetness to it you can't explain; it's sweet but there is a peppery kick. It's been that way since the first day you met him. I love him, I love him, I love him. The sentiment echoes throughout your entire being. "it's okay to cry."

"Would you really want me again?" His voice is soft and unsure like a young bird who doesn't know if it can trust its wings.

Who else would I want?

Why would I want anyone else?

I've known you for 10 years, Ace. There's nothing about you I don't want.

"Over and over again," you kiss his temple once, twice and then a third time before you lift his head and kiss the corners of his eyes. "It's you and no one else."

A noise of surprise escapes you when Ace's lips press against your own but you relax a beat later, humming tenderly. You relish every sensation, how his arms wrap around you tight and how his fingers gently dig into your back. The taste of salt on your lips is akin to the ocean and your heartbeat reverberates throughout your chest.

Yes, it's telling you something precious.

[lovezbrownies]

Julie with a golden retriever reader

oomf i wrote half of this half asleep i am going to be busy for the next two days so i needed to post it, if you see any mistakes or shitty writing just ignore it for now ><

Soft on you. (Yandere!Mad Scientist x GN!Reader.)

Julie's Masterlist - General Masterlist

Synopsis: A nice fluffy time with your cold calculating girlfriend!

Julie McCanister x GN!Reader

Warnings: Julie acts cold but actually is warm

Julie’s office was a sanctuary of silence, where the relentless hum of the computer and the rustling of papers created a symphony of productivity. In this controlled environment, Julie found solace. Her mind operated with a precision akin to the algorithms she worked with—logical, detached, and almost robotic in its efficiency. Each piece of data, each variable, fell into place with a calculated inevitability. This was her domain, her world where chaos was meticulously tamed and where emotions had little room to disrupt the order she had carefully constructed.

Yet, despite the serene predictability of her scientific realm, there was an unpredictable element that frequently disrupted her meticulously ordered life. That element was you.

You entered her world with a boundless, almost reckless energy, a stark contrast to the calm, controlled atmosphere of her lab. Your presence was like a vibrant splash of color on a monochromatic canvas, and Julie often found herself both bemused and captivated by your ceaseless enthusiasm. Your energy was a whirlwind that swept through her world, leaving a trail of laughter and lightness in its wake. Today, as you burst into the room, it was no different. The door swung open with a cheerful push, and there you were, radiating excitement as though you were a sunbeam breaking through a cloudy day.

“Jules!” you called out, your voice a musical lilt that cut through the ambient hum of the office like a knife. You skipped into the room, an infectious grin plastered across your face. The sheer vibrancy of your presence seemed to ripple through the air, a stark contrast to the sterile environment. Your arms were hidden behind your back, adding an element of playful suspense to your appearance. “Guess what I brought you!”

Julie’s fingers paused mid-type, her eyes flicking away from the screen to regard you with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. Her sharp, analytical gaze met your effervescent one, and she struggled to reconcile the dissonance between your vibrant energy and her own more restrained demeanor. But there was an undercurrent of something deeper in her gaze—an obsessive attention to every detail of you that she couldn’t quite hide, despite her best efforts to maintain her composure. “I’m not in the mood for guessing games,” she replied, her tone clipped but not unkind. There was an underlying softness in her words, a reluctant acknowledgment of the warmth you brought into her otherwise orderly world.

You, however, were undeterred. If anything, your grin widened, fueled by the challenge of drawing her out of her shell. “Oh, come on,” you persisted, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Just one guess! I promise it’s something you’ll love.”

Julie sighed, her lips twitching with the barest hint of a smile. “If it’s something I’ll love, then it’s probably coffee,” she surmised, her tone carrying a hint of resigned amusement. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a practiced air of nonchalance, though her gaze betrayed a flicker of anticipation. Her mind was already racing ahead, fixated on the idea of what might be hidden behind your back. The prospect of you surprising her, of you bringing something into her life that she hadn't meticulously planned for, intrigued her deeply.

You shook your head, an exaggerated gasp escaping your lips. “Nope! Well, I did get you coffee too, but that’s not the surprise.” With a flourish, you revealed the small box of chocolates, its golden foil shimmering under the office lights. “Ta-da!”

Julie’s eyebrow arched in an almost imperceptible show of amusement as she took in the sight of the chocolates. The box was elegant, its packaging a testament to the thought you’d put into choosing it. She had always been a creature of habit, preferring practicality over indulgence, but there was something undeniably charming about the way you had gone out of your way to select a treat that you knew would bring her joy. The meticulous care with which you chose the chocolates was a detail she fixated on with an intensity that belied her usual demeanor.

“Chocolates,” she stated, her voice flat but not devoid of warmth. Her fingers reached out to take the box from you, brushing against yours in the process. The contact was brief but electric, a momentary connection that spoke volumes more than words could convey. She was acutely aware of every nuance of the touch, a testament to her obsessive nature. “I suppose you think this will somehow improve my productivity.”

You laughed, the sound a bright, melodic chime that filled the room with its infectious joy. “Well, I thought it might provide a little boost. Plus, I know you like these,” you said, your eyes alight with a mixture of mischief and affection. “Even if you pretend not to be obsessed with them.”

Julie’s gaze softened as she examined the box of chocolates, her usually stoic expression giving way to a rare, fleeting smile. It was a smile that rarely appeared outside the confines of your company, a testament to the subtle impact you had on her otherwise meticulously controlled emotions. Her fingers lingered on the box, an indication of how thoroughly she was savoring the moment. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, though there was no real edge to her words. The fondness in her voice was unmistakable, even if she tried to disguise it behind her usual veneer of detachment. Her obsessive fixation on you and the little things you did for her was a side of her she seldom allowed to show.

“Only for you,” you replied, your tone light and playful as you reached over to gently nudge her with your shoulder. The contact was casual, yet it conveyed an intimacy that spoke of the deep bond between you. “I thought you could use a break. And, you know, who doesn’t love a little sugar?”

Julie rolled her eyes with a barely concealed smirk, though she took the chocolate box with a more genuine gesture of appreciation. She selected a piece, savoring the rich flavor with an almost begrudging acknowledgment of its merits. The treat was as delicious as she had expected, a small indulgence that offered a brief respite from the relentless grind of her work. The way she savored each bite spoke of her intense attention to detail and her obsessive nature, even when it came to the smallest pleasures.

“You’re ridiculous,” Julie said, though the words lacked their usual bite. There was a softness in her tone, a quiet gratitude that she rarely expressed so openly. She met your gaze with an unspoken message—a message that said she was thankful, even if she didn’t always know how to express it in the conventional ways.

You beamed at her, your eyes sparkling with genuine delight. “Anytime, Jules. I’m always here for you.”

Julie’s gaze softened, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something more vulnerable. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken emotions, of a connection that transcended the boundaries of her usually controlled demeanor. It was a kiss that said more than words ever could, a silent affirmation of the love and appreciation that lay beneath her stoic exterior.

As you pulled away, your eyes met hers, and in that fleeting moment, there was a shared understanding—a recognition of the quiet, profound bond that existed between you. It was a bond that didn’t require grand gestures or elaborate declarations, but rather a simple, honest connection that was evident in every touch, every glance, and every shared moment of intimacy.

With a contented sigh, Julie settled back into the cushions, her arm slipping around you in a protective embrace. The movie might have ended, but the warmth of the evening lingered, a gentle reminder of the love and affection that defined your relationship. And as you snuggled closer, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet comfort of each other’s presence—a presence that was both grounding and uplifting, a perfect balance of logic and love, science and spontaneity.

In the dim light of the living room, as the last echoes of the film faded into silence, you and Julie remained nestled together, a perfect harmony of contrasts. The night was still young, and in the sanctuary of your shared space, there was a profound sense of peace, a quiet contentment that spoke of the deep, unspoken connection you shared.

The evening’s warmth had settled around the two of you like a comforting blanket, the soft glow of the living room lights casting a gentle aura over the space. The movie had ended, its final credits rolling silently on the screen, leaving behind the lingering echoes of laughter and the rustle of popcorn. The room was now filled with the soothing sound of your soft breaths and the occasional flicker of a nearby candle.

As you nestled closer into the cushions, the gentle rhythm of your breathing creating a steady, calming backdrop, Julie’s fingers traced idle patterns on your arm. Her touch was deliberate and tender, a stark contrast to the otherwise calculated precision with which she approached her work. Each caress was a reflection of her deep-seated affection, a silent acknowledgment of the way your presence brought an unexpected warmth into her meticulously controlled life.

Your head rested against her chest, your eyes half-closed in contentment as you basked in the afterglow of the evening. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest, a soothing reminder of her presence. It was moments like these that you cherished—the quiet, intimate spaces where words were unnecessary, and emotions spoke through simple gestures.

Julie’s gaze shifted from the flickering candlelight to you, her eyes softening with a blend of admiration and affection. She took a deep breath, allowing herself to savor the serene moment before her. With an almost imperceptible shift, she tilted her head slightly, her lips brushing against your temple in a soft, fleeting kiss, as though she'd become addicted to kissing you as of late—like the multiple times she'd peppered your skin in kisses when you're dead asleep. The contact was tender, a gentle press of warmth and affection that spoke volumes more than any elaborate declaration could.

The kiss was brief but full of meaning, a quiet declaration of her feelings in a way that felt both natural and deeply sincere. Julie’s lips lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, her touch lingering with a tenderness that contrasted with her usual reserved demeanor. It was a moment of vulnerability and connection, a soft, unspoken acknowledgment of the deep bond that existed between you.

As she pulled back, her eyes met yours with a silent, affectionate promise. There was no need for words; the kiss had conveyed everything that needed to be said. You smiled up at her, the warmth of the moment reflected in your eyes. Julie’s gaze softened further, her usual composure giving way to a rare, genuine smile that spoke of the profound affection she held for you.

In the quiet of the evening, the gentle embrace of the kiss lingered, a small but significant testament to the love and connection that defined your relationship. It was a reminder that even in the most ordinary moments, the depth of your bond was always present, a quiet, unspoken truth that provided a comforting anchor in the midst of life’s complexities.

[engeorged]

Harry's Stag - Part One

As I stepped out of the taxi, the cool Amsterdam air washed over me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The canals, the narrow streets, the lively hum of the city—it was just what I needed. A lads’ weekend with my best mates, a chance to unwind before I marry the man of my dreams.

I glanced at the guys, a wave of affection washing over me. Jim and I had been mates since we were kids, practically growing up together. Tall, lean, with that rugged, outdoorsy vibe and piercing blue eyes that seemed to cut through any nonsense, Jim was the steady one—the rock who always kept us grounded.

Banning and Noel came into our lives during university when we all played rugby together. Banning, with his quiet confidence and sharp mind, was always thinking a few steps ahead. He had this knack for coming up with a plan, making sure we stayed out of trouble and found our way home in one piece. Then there’s Noel—scruffy, blonde, and a bit shorter than the rest of us, but with a cheeky grin that could charm his way out of any mess he managed to get himself into. He was the joker of the group, ensuring we were never bored.

And then there’s me, Harry, the soon-to-be groom, the guy who’s somehow managed to land the most amazing man in the world. Jason is everything I’ve ever wanted—6’5, blonde, and brilliant, working in finance but with a heart of gold. He’s got this mix of confidence and kindness that makes me fall for him all over again every time I see him. I’m the luckiest guy on the planet, and I know it.

But right now, all I want is to forget about the wedding planning and just enjoy this weekend with the guys. We’ve been through so much together—high school dramas, university antics, and everything life has thrown at us since. This weekend is our chance to let loose, to celebrate before everything changes.

The morning light filtered through the curtains as I woke up, feeling the familiar buzz of excitement. Today was going to be one for the books. After a quick shower, I headed downstairs with the guys to tackle the hotel’s breakfast buffet. I’d always seen buffets as a bit of a challenge—something I’d perfected during our rugby trips in uni when the lads and I would try to outdo each other with how much we could eat.

The spread was impressive: stacks of pancakes, sizzling sausages, crispy bacon, eggs done every way imaginable, and fresh pastries that looked like they’d come straight out of a bakery. My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grabbed a plate, ready to dive in.

Jim, always the early riser, was already at the buffet, piling food onto his plate. “Morning, mate,” he said with a grin. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“You know me,” I replied, grabbing a bit of everything and then some. “Never one to turn down a good breakfast.”

We settled at a table, and I started working through my plate, enjoying the food and the banter. Before I could even make a dent in my meal, Noel appeared with a plate stacked high with more food. “Mate, you’ve got to try these pancakes,” he said, dropping them onto my plate without waiting for a reply.

I laughed, not thinking much of it. “Alright, alright, keep them coming.”

Banning, ever the strategist, chimed in as he sat down. “You’re missing out on the scrambled eggs. Here, have some more,” he said, adding a generous portion to my plate.

As we ate, the conversation flowed, and I found myself reminiscing about our old rugby trips. “Remember that all-you-can-eat steakhouse in Leeds?” I asked, chuckling. “I think I put away enough to feed a small army that night.”

Jim nodded, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Yeah, and you still managed to play the next day. You’ve always had a hollow leg when it comes to food.”

They kept the food coming, and I kept eating, not really noticing how often one of them would toss something extra onto my plate. I was too caught up in the nostalgia, the friendly competition from our uni days, and the general excitement of the weekend.

But as I started on my third plate, I felt a familiar tightness in my stomach. The kind that crept in during those old eating challenges when I’d push myself just a bit too far. My belly was starting to feel heavy, the waistband of my jeans pressing uncomfortably against my skin. I shifted in my seat, trying to ease the growing discomfort.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge—even a self-imposed one. I kept eating, even as my stomach began to bloat, pushing out slightly against my shirt. Each bite was a little slower, the food sitting heavily in my gut. I could feel my belly rounding out, the once-flat surface curving just a bit more with each mouthful.

“Feeling full yet?” Jim asked an innocent enough question, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“A bit,” I admitted, patting my stomach, which was now firm and slightly swollen. “But you know me—never one to quit while I’m ahead.”

The guys exchanged quick glances, subtle but not lost on me. I shrugged it off, thinking they were just reminiscing about old times like I was. But deep down, I had a nagging feeling that they were up to something. Still, I was too focused on the food and the fun to really care.

As I polished off the last of my pancakes, the tightness in my belly became more pronounced. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my slightly rounded stomach, feeling the pressure building inside. Regret started to creep in—a familiar sensation from those rugby days when I’d pushed my limits a bit too far. My shirt stretched a little tighter across my middle, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I should’ve shown some restraint.

But then I caught myself. I’d eaten way more than this before, especially during those wild university days. This was nothing compared to some of the eating challenges I’d taken on—and won. A bit of bloat wasn’t going to slow me down. I could handle it, no problem.

With that in mind, I shrugged off the discomfort. It was just breakfast, after all, and we had a whole day ahead of us. “Right, lads,” I said, standing up and stretching, trying to shake off the heaviness in my gut. “What’s next on the agenda?”

Jim clapped me on the back, and I could feel the tension in my overstuffed stomach as he did. “Let’s head out and explore, mate. We’ve got a full day ahead of us.”

I nodded, determined to push through the fullness. I reminded myself that this was all part of the fun, and I could definitely handle more. With one last glance at the table, I followed the guys out the door, ready to see what the day had in store.

As we headed out into the bustling streets of Amsterdam, the food still sitting heavily in my stomach, I told myself I was just being paranoid. These guys were my best friends—they wouldn’t pull anything on me, especially not right before my wedding.

After finishing breakfast, we decided to take in some of the sights. Amsterdam was a beautiful city, and I was excited to explore it with my best mates. The weather was perfect—clear skies and a gentle breeze, making it an ideal day for wandering around.

We started by visiting some of the city's iconic spots, like the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum. But as we strolled along the canals and through the narrow streets, I could feel the heaviness in my belly from the massive breakfast easing a bit. By late morning, we found ourselves at one of the bustling local markets. The place was alive with vibrant colours, delicious smells, and the chatter of vendors selling everything from fresh produce to local delicacies. It was the kind of place where you could easily lose track of time, wandering from stall to stall, sampling the best that Amsterdam had to offer.

"Harry, check this out!" Banning called out, waving me over to a stall where a vendor was selling fresh stroopwafels, still warm from the griddle. He handed me one, and before I could even think about whether I was hungry, I found myself biting into the sweet, caramel-filled treat. It was delicious, the perfect balance of chewy and crunchy, and despite the fullness I still felt, I had to admit it was hard to resist.

"How about some cheese?" Noel chimed in, appearing beside me with a small platter of local Dutch cheeses. He popped a piece into my mouth before I could protest, grinning as I chewed. The rich, creamy flavours melted on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but smile at how good it tasted.

As we moved through the market, the guys made sure I didn’t miss a thing. Every few steps, they’d find something new for me to try—a slice of fresh apple pie here, a handful of chocolate-covered nuts there. They seemed to be in a competition to see who could find the most delicious treats, and I was the unwitting contestant.

“Harry, you’ve got to try these!” Jim called out, holding up a tray of poffertjes, tiny Dutch pancakes dusted with powdered sugar. He handed me the tray, and before I knew it, I was popping the fluffy little pancakes into my mouth, one after another.

With each bite, my belly grew heavier, the tightness from breakfast now back and mixed with the new wave of food. But the guys kept bringing me more, their excitement and enthusiasm contagious. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, watching as I dutifully sampled everything they put in front of me.

At one point, I realised I was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by it all. “Guys, I think I’m good for now,” I said, laughing nervously as I held up a hand to stop another treat from making its way into my mouth.

“Fuck that!” Banning said, laughing. “We’re just getting started. You’ve got to experience everything, mate!”

Despite my growing discomfort, I couldn’t help but go along with it. After all, this was supposed to be a weekend of indulgence, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the fun. So I kept eating, letting the guys guide me from stall to stall, each new bite adding to the growing pressure in my belly.

By the time we were ready to leave the market, I could barely keep track of everything I’d eaten. My stomach felt impossibly full, a heavy, warm weight pressing against my waistband. As we walked away, I noticed the guys exchanging amused glances, but they didn’t say anything, and I didn’t push it.

As we left the market, I was feeling stuffed from all the sampling, but the guys weren't done with me yet. Just as we were about to head back towards the city centre, Banning spotted a stall selling fresh pastries. The aroma of warm, buttery dough filled the air, making my mouth water despite the heaviness already sitting in my gut.

“Hold up, lads,” Banning said, veering off toward the stall. “We can’t leave without taking some of these with us!”

Before I could protest, he was at the counter, ordering a large bag of assorted pastries—croissants, danishes, and something that looked like a massive cinnamon roll, all warm and fresh from the oven.

“Here you go, Harry,” he said, shoving the bag into my hands with a grin. “Something to snack on as we walk.”

I chuckled, trying to hide my unease at the thought of eating anything more. “You sure you guys don’t want to share these?”

“Oh, we’ll help,” Jim said, but I noticed the sly smile on his face. “But you’ve got to lead the charge, mate. You’re the groom, after all.”

With no real way to refuse without seeming like a party pooper, I sighed and reached into the bag. The croissant I pulled out was soft and flaky, practically melting in my hands. I took a bite, the buttery richness spreading across my tongue, and I had to admit—it was damn good.

As we walked, I found myself nibbling on the pastries, more out of habit than hunger. The guys encouraged me with every bite, grabbing a pastry here and there, but always making sure the majority of them ended up in my hands.

By the time we reached our next destination, the bag was nearly empty, and I felt like I was carrying a lead weight in my belly. The waistband of my jeans was digging into my skin, and I subtly tried to adjust it to relieve some of the pressure. The guys, of course, were loving every minute of it, exchanging knowing looks as I dutifully finished off the last pastry. 

I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were up to something, but for now, all I could focus on was the heavy, bloated sensation in my gut. It was hard to believe I could still stand, let alone keep eating, but with the lads around, I knew there was no way I’d get out of it. 

After leaving the market with my belly full of pastries, we found ourselves wandering through the winding streets of Amsterdam again. The city was buzzing with life, tourists mingling with locals, and the smell of food and drink filled the air. My stomach was still groaning from all the food I'd packed into it, but when the guys suggested stopping for some beers, I figured it might help take the edge off.

“Let’s hit up a few local breweries,” Jim suggested, his eyes lighting up. “We can’t leave Amsterdam without trying some of the best beer in the world.”

I agreed, hoping that a few drinks might dull the ache in my overstuffed belly. The first brewery we hit was small and cosy, with wooden tables and an impressive selection of local brews. The guys ordered a round of pints, and I gladly accepted mine, taking a long, deep sip. The cold, bitter beer slid down my throat, and I could feel it spreading warmth through my chest.

The first pint went down easily, and for a moment, I almost forgot how full I was. The alcohol worked its magic, numbing the uncomfortable pressure in my stomach. The guys were in high spirits, laughing and joking as we finished our beers and moved on to the next brewery.

By the time we reached the third stop, I was starting to feel a bit more relaxed. The bloated sensation in my gut was still there, but the beer had taken the edge off. Each point seemed to settle on top of the food in my belly, adding to the warm, fuzzy feeling spreading through my body.

The guys were keeping pace with me, ordering pints at each stop and making sure I always had one in my hand. I knew I should slow down, but the alcohol was doing its job, and I found myself caring less and less about how full I was. Instead, I focused on enjoying the moment, the camaraderie, and the laughter of my best friends.

At the fifth brewery, the drinks started to catch up with me. My head was buzzing, and the bloated feeling in my stomach was returning, more pronounced than before. I tried to keep up with the guys, but I could feel my belly straining against the waistband of my jeans, each sip of beer adding to the swelling pressure.

I glanced down at my gut, now noticeably rounder and heavier than it had been earlier in the day. The fullness was almost overwhelming, but the beers had numbed me enough that I could push through it, at least for a while longer.

Jim noticed me looking at my stomach and clapped me on the back. “You alright, mate? You’re keeping up like a champ!”

I managed a grin, even though I could feel the tightness in my belly with every breath. “Yeah, just feeling it a bit,” I admitted.

“Don’t worry, we’re almost done with the tour,” Noel said, raising his glass. “Just a couple more, and then we can grab some food to soak it all up.”

The mention of food made my stomach churn, but I pushed the thought aside and lifted my pint in a toast. As we moved on to the final stop, I could feel the beers sloshing around inside me, mingling with the pastries and everything else I’d consumed that day. 

But the guys were right—the beers had dulled the ache, at least for now, and I was too buzzed to care about what might come next.

By the time we reached the final brewery on our tour, my belly had become an undeniable presence—both to me and, I suspected, to anyone who glanced in my direction. It felt like a boulder, heavy and firm, pressing outwards against the fabric of my shirt. The once-flat surface was now a taut, rounded dome, the skin stretched tight and smooth. Every step I took made it sway slightly, a reminder of just how much I’d eaten.

I rubbed my swollen middle, trying to ease the growing pressure. Suddenly, a deep belch forced its way up, loud and unexpected. The guys turned, grinning, and immediately erupted into cheers.

“There he is!” Noel laughed, clapping me on the back, which only made my belly slosh uncomfortably. “That’s the spirit, mate!”

Another belch rumbled up, and this time I didn’t even try to hold it back. The guys whooped and cheered even louder, egging me on as I laughed along with them.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Banning shouted, raising his pint in a mock toast.

I shook my head, grinning as yet another burp escaped me. The relief was temporary, though, as the pressure inside me continued to build. Every step made my belly jiggle slightly, and I could feel just how bloated I was becoming. The gas from all that beer wasn’t helping, either, making me feel even more stuffed than I already was.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the moment. The lads were loving it, and there was something satisfying about knowing I could still outdo them, just like in the old days. Even if my stomach felt like it was about to burst, the cheers and laughter made it all worth it.

Despite the discomfort, there was a part of me that was fascinated by how much my body had changed in just a few short hours. My normally lean frame had been overtaken by this massive, swollen belly, and I couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer volume I’d managed to pack away.

The guys noticed, too. I caught Banning’s eye as he glanced at my gut, and he grinned, clearly impressed. “That’s one hell of a belly, Harry,” he said, his voice full of admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself today.”

Jim nodded in agreement, raising his pint in a toast. “To Harry’s belly,” he said with a laugh. “May it keep growing!”

The others joined in, their laughter filling the air as I gave a half-hearted chuckle. I could feel my stomach stretching even more as I took another sip of beer, the pressure building to a point that was almost unbearable.

As we finished our drinks, I leaned back in my chair, trying to find some relief from the tightness. My belly was now a prominent, round sphere, pressing outwards with a fullness that I couldn’t ignore. It was a strange mix of discomfort and pride—I’d never seen myself like this before, and despite the ache, there was something almost amusing about the sheer size of my belly.

By early afternoon, I was starting to feel the effects of our beer-filled morning. My head was buzzing pleasantly, and my steps were just a bit slower as we made our way through the bustling streets. I was thinking about suggesting a quick stop back at the hotel to freshen up, but before I could, Noel was already leading us toward our next destination.

“We’ve got a special lunch spot lined up, Harry,” he said, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Proper local place. None of that touristy crap.”

I was too relaxed to argue, letting him steer me down a side street and into a large, rustic-looking restaurant. The inside was all dark wood and heavy beams, with long communal tables and the rich smell of roasting meat filling the air. My stomach rumbled in spite of the heaviness I was already feeling, and I figured a good meal might help soak up some of the beer.

We found a spot at the end of one of the tables, and Noel didn’t even bother with menus. “We’ll take four of your specials,” he told the waitress with a wink, and she nodded, jotting it down before disappearing into the kitchen.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing around at the other diners. Most of them were locals, digging into plates piled high with food, glasses of cider clinking together in toasts. It was lively, warm, and exactly the kind of place that made you feel at home, even halfway across the world.

“So, what’s the special?” I asked, eyeing Noel suspiciously.

“Wait and see,” he grinned, taking a long pull from the glass of cider that had just been set in front of him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Moments later, the food arrived, and my eyes widened as the waitress set a huge platter in front of each of us. There, in the centre, was a whole roasted chicken, crispy and golden, surrounded by a mountain of fresh bread and a full litre of cider.

“Bloody hell,” I muttered, staring at the feast. It looked incredible, but there was no way I could finish all that. “You guys trying to kill me?”

Banning smirked, already tearing into his bread. “Consider it a challenge.”

“Come on, Harry,” Jim chimed in, pulling a hunk of chicken off the bone. “You said you were hungry this morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean all day,” I laughed, even as I reached for my fork. The smell of the roasted chicken was too tempting to resist, and I figured I could at least make a dent in it.

We dug in, the conversation flowing easily between bites of juicy chicken and sips of the strong, dry cider. The bread was warm and crusty, perfect for soaking up the rich drippings from the chicken, and despite my full stomach, I found myself going back for more, over and over.

The guys were relentless, though, nudging the bread my way whenever I slowed down, refilling my cider glass before I’d even finished it. Every time I thought I was done, Jim would carve off another piece of chicken and drop it onto my plate, or Noel would push the bread basket back toward me with a grin.

“You’ve got to try this with the cider,” Noel insisted, handing me a slice of bread slathered in the drippings. “Trust me, it’s worth it.”

I took the bread, biting into it with a mix of enjoyment and trepidation. It was delicious, of course, but I was starting to reach the point where every bite felt like a struggle. My stomach was stretched tight, the combination of beer, cider, and food weighing me down.

But there was something infectious about their enthusiasm, the way they kept the mood light and fun, and I couldn’t bring myself to say no. These were my best mates, and they were making sure I had the time of my life. What was a little discomfort in the grand scheme of things?

“Only the best for you,” Noel added with a wink, though there was a glint in his eye that made me wonder just how much more they had planned for me.

After finishing the meal, I leaned back in my chair, feeling utterly stuffed. My usually firm belly was now uncomfortably stretched, the tightness pressing against my shirt. The button on my jeans felt like it was about to pop, and I had to loosen my belt a notch to alleviate some of the pressure.

The full feeling wasn’t just in my stomach but seemed to radiate through my entire body. Every bite of the juicy chicken and every piece of bread had added to the bloated sensation, and the cider had only intensified it. My stomach was protruding noticeably, an unfamiliar softness replacing the tight abs I’d worked so hard to maintain. It felt heavy, like a weight pressing down from within.

I looked around at my friends, trying to ignore the discomfort, but the sight of their grins and the way they patted their own full bellies didn’t help. “I think I might have overdone it,” I admitted with a chuckle, rubbing my distended stomach.

“No way, mate,” Jim said, giving me a friendly thump on the back. “You’re just getting into the spirit of things.”

“Yeah, you’ve got to stay in top form,” Noel added, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You don’t want to be the one to miss out.”

Despite the lighthearted teasing, I could barely move, feeling the fullness with every breath. I glanced down at my bulging belly, the fabric of my shirt straining against the roundness. It was a far cry from the trim figure I was used to seeing.

As we finally left the restaurant, I had to walk slowly, my steps deliberate and careful. Each movement reminded me of just how much I’d eaten, and I knew that if I didn’t get some relief soon, the discomfort would only grow. But with the guys still in high spirits, I knew the day was far from over, and whatever they had planned next, I’d have to muster the energy to keep up.

As we left the restaurant, the afternoon started to blur together. The combination of food and cider had left me pleasantly tipsy, and the usual sharpness of my thoughts had softened. My bloated stomach felt heavy, but the excitement of the city kept me moving, albeit at a slower pace.

After the epic lunch, I was convinced I couldn't possibly eat another bite. My stomach was so full and bloated that it felt like a lead weight was strapped to me, each step making my distended gut jiggle slightly under my shirt.

We started walking again, heading toward the canals for a leisurely afternoon tour. The sun was shining, reflecting off the water as we strolled along the cobblestone streets. I tried to focus on the sights—the charming, narrow buildings, the boats gliding by—but the heavy, stuffed feeling in my gut was impossible to ignore. Every step made me acutely aware of just how much space my belly was taking up, stretching my shirt tight across the firm, rounded expanse.

We hadn’t gone far before we passed a street vendor selling fresh Bitterballen. The savoury aroma of deep-fried goodness filled the air, making my stomach rumble despite the fullness. Bitterballen are traditional Dutch snacks, deep-fried balls filled with a rich, creamy beef or veal ragout, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. They’re often enjoyed with a dollop of mustard.

Noel, ever the enthusiast, was already haggling with the vendor before I could even process what was happening. “Harry’s got to try these!” he said, handing over a few euros and grabbing a serving of the hot, golden balls.

“Mate, I’m so full I can barely move,” I protested weakly, but Noel just grinned and handed me a paper cone filled with Bitterballen.

“Come on, you’ve got room for one more,” he said, winking. “It’s part of the experience.”

I took the cone and popped one of the Bitterballen into my mouth. The crispy exterior gave way to a rich, creamy filling that was both indulgent and comforting. Despite the tightness in my belly, the flavour was irresistible. With each bite, I could feel the food settling heavily on top of everything else I’d eaten, adding to the relentless pressure in my gut.

We continued along the canal, and it wasn’t long before Jim spotted another vendor—this time selling churros dusted with cinnamon sugar. He practically sprinted over, eager to buy a bag for me before Banning could get there first.

“Here you go, Harry,” Jim said, thrusting the warm bag into my hands. “You’ve got to keep your energy up!”

I stared at the churros, my stomach groaning in protest at the mere thought of eating more. But the guys were watching me expectantly, their excitement palpable. I couldn’t let them down, so I forced myself to take a bite.

The churro was crisp on the outside, soft on the inside, and coated with just the right amount of cinnamon sugar. It was delicious, but as I swallowed, I felt my belly swell even more, the tightness becoming almost unbearable. Each bite seemed to expand my gut further, stretching the skin to its limits.

“Harry, you’re a machine!” Banning laughed, clapping me on the back as I forced down the last of the churros. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.”

Neither did I. My stomach was now so full that it was starting to feel rock-hard, a firm, rounded dome that pushed out from under my shirt with every breath. The waistband of my jeans was cutting painfully into my sides, and I could feel my skin pulling tight over the swollen mass of my belly. I wanted to stop, to sit down and let my overstuffed gut settle, but the guys weren’t having any of it.

We passed another vendor, this one selling warm, cheesy croquettes, and before I could even protest, Banning had bought a handful and was offering them to me.

“Last ones, I promise,” he said with a mischievous grin, though I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was far from finished.

I took one, biting into the crispy, gooey centre, and immediately felt another surge of fullness. My stomach was now a tight, distended ball, and each bite made it feel like I was stretching it to the breaking point. But the guys kept egging me on, practically shoving the croquettes into my hands as we walked.

By the time we finally finished the canal tour, my belly was truly enormous—a swollen, overfilled sphere that jutted out in front of me, heavy and round. The tightness was almost unbearable, and I could barely stand up straight, the weight of my gut pulling me forward with every step. 

And yet, despite it all, I couldn’t help but laugh along with the guys, the absurdity of the situation hitting me. My friends were practically fighting over who got to feed me next, and I was helpless to stop them. My once-lean frame had been transformed into something out of a cartoon, my shirt now riding up to expose the pale, stretched skin of my bloated belly.

As we headed back toward the city centre, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over. The day was still young, and the guys seemed determined to see just how much more they could cram into me. And as much as I wanted to protest, I knew deep down that I wasn’t going to stop them.

By the time the afternoon sun started to dip, I was struggling. Every step felt like a monumental effort, the heavy, swollen mass of my belly swaying in front of me, throwing off my balance. It had gone from feeling full and stretched to being outright painful, a tight, solid ball that was almost too much to bear. The guys were still in high spirits, laughing and joking as we walked, but I was finding it hard to keep up. 

"Guys," I groaned, finally coming to a stop and placing a hand on my distended gut. "I need a break. Can we head back to the hotel for a bit? Just a quick snooze, let my stomach settle."

I was expecting some pushback, but surprisingly, they all nodded in agreement. Maybe they could see the strain on my face, or maybe they were just ready for a break too. Either way, we turned in the direction of the hotel, and I started to imagine the sweet relief of lying down and letting my poor, overworked belly rest.

But of course, it wasn’t going to be that simple.

As we rounded a corner, we passed a small, bustling shop with a line of people snaking out the door. The smell of fried potatoes and various toppings filled the air, and Jim’s eyes lit up when he spotted the sign.

“Wait a second,” he said, grabbing my arm and pointing toward the shop. “This is the place I’ve been telling you about! They make these famous fries with all sorts of toppings. We’ve got to try it.”

I felt a knot of dread tighten in my already cramped stomach. “Jim, I’m seriously about to burst here. I don’t think I can fit anything else in.”

But Jim wasn’t having it. “Come on, Harry, you can’t come all the way to Amsterdam and not try this. It’s part of the experience! We’ll just get one big platter to share, no big deal.”

Banning and Noel were already nodding along enthusiastically, and before I could argue any further, they were steering me toward the door. Inside, the place was a fry-lover’s paradise—massive trays of golden fries, each topped with a ridiculous amount of extras, from melted cheese to pulled pork, jalapeños, and creamy sauces.

We ordered the biggest platter they had, a monstrosity as wide as the table itself, piled high with fries and every topping imaginable. It was the sort of thing meant for a group of a dozen, not four guys who had already been eating all day. The sight of it alone made my stomach lurch in protest.

I tried to push back. “Guys, seriously, this is insane. I can’t eat all this.”

But Banning grinned at me, eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll help, don’t worry. But you’ve got to at least give it a shot, Harry. Think of it as a challenge.”

I knew there was no way out, not with all three of them looking at me like that. So, with a resigned sigh, I picked up a fork and dug in.

The first few bites were delicious, the crispy fries and rich toppings a perfect combination. But with every mouthful, I could feel my stomach stretching further, pushing against my waistband and straining the limits of my shirt. The tightness that had been a constant presence all day was now bordering on unbearable, a pressure that made it hard to focus on anything other than the sheer fullness of my gut.

Still, the guys kept urging me on, and somehow, I kept going. They were making a show of eating their share, but it was clear that most of the food was ending up in front of me. Every time I slowed down, they’d shove another forkful of loaded fries in my direction, laughing and cheering me on like it was some sort of competition.

“Harry’s taking the lead!” Noel shouted at one point, and the others whooped in agreement. 

I felt like I was in a daze, barely able to comprehend what I was doing as I continued to eat. My belly was now so bloated that it was pressing against the edge of the table, a round, firm dome that seemed to be growing larger with each bite. My shirt was stretched tight across the distended curve of my gut, and I could feel the seams straining with every breath.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I dropped my fork, unable to eat another bite. The platter was mostly empty, but my stomach felt like it was about to burst. I leaned back in my chair, groaning as the pressure in my belly intensified. It was a strange mix of pain and satisfaction, the kind of fullness that made it impossible to do anything but sit there and let my body digest.

The guys, of course, were loving it. They were all grins and high-fives, clearly proud of themselves for pushing me to this point.

“You’re a legend, Harry,” Banning said, clapping me on the back with a laugh. “I don’t know how you did it.”

I didn’t either. All I knew was that my belly was now so swollen and distended that I could barely move. It jutted out in front of me like a solid, round ball, the skin stretched tight and smooth over the massive bulge. I could feel every inch of it, the fullness pressing down on my lungs and making it hard to breathe, let alone think.

As we finally left the fry shop and started heading back to the hotel, I could barely keep up, my gait slow and awkward as I tried to accommodate the heavy mass of my gut. It felt like I was carrying a bowling ball strapped to my stomach, the weight of it pulling me forward with every step.

And yet, as uncomfortable as I was, there was a part of me that couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer size of my belly. I’d never been this full in my life, never even imagined it was possible to eat this much. It was almost impressive in a way, and despite everything, I found myself laughing along with the guys as we made our way back to the hotel.

By the time we finally made it back to the hotel, I was exhausted. My belly was so full and heavy that each step felt like a challenge, and the thought of just lying down was the only thing keeping me going. As we entered the room, the guys were still buzzing with energy, laughing and recounting the day’s events, but I could hardly focus on their words. All I could think about was getting out of my too-tight clothes and giving my aching stomach some relief.

I headed straight for the bathroom, barely pausing to acknowledge the banter going on behind me. Closing the door, I leaned against the sink for a moment, taking a deep breath as I let the tension drain from my shoulders. Then, with a grunt of discomfort, I began the laborious task of peeling off my clothes.

First, I unbuttoned my jeans, which had been digging into my sides for hours. The moment the button popped open, my belly surged forward, free from its confines at last. I couldn’t help but gasp slightly at the sensation—the relief was immediate, but the sheer weight of my gut was startling. I tugged the waistband down over my hips, letting the jeans fall to the floor, before yanking off my shirt, which had been stretched to its limits.

Once I was finally free of my clothes, I turned to face the mirror, and what I saw stopped me in my tracks. My belly—normally flat and firm—was now a completely different shape, swollen and rounded out in front of me like a tightly inflated balloon. The curve of it was almost shocking, jutting out so far that it seemed impossible it was my own body. My skin was stretched taut over the massive dome, with the light fur that usually covered my stomach now spread thin and sparse across the smooth, distended surface. 

I reached out tentatively, running a hand over the swell of my gut. It felt solid and unyielding, the kind of fullness that left no room for anything else. My fingers brushed against the fine hair that coated my belly, usually soft but now pulled taut over the curve, emphasising the tightness of my skin. The fur seemed almost out of place on such a massively bloated belly, a reminder of how much my body had changed in just a few short hours.

I took a step back, turning slightly to see my profile, and my eyes widened at the sight. The curve of my belly was even more pronounced from the side, a heavy, rounded bulge that hung low and full. It almost didn’t look real—like something out of a cartoon, exaggerated and impossible. And yet, there it was, a testament to just how much I had consumed.

I stood there for a moment, just staring at myself in the mirror. I knew I’d eaten a lot, but seeing the evidence in front of me like this was almost surreal. I couldn’t believe how much I’d managed to pack away—how much my belly had expanded to accommodate it all. I looked like I’d swallowed a beach ball whole, my normally lean frame now dominated by this massive, swollen gut.

A mix of shock and disbelief washed over me. I’d seen my belly bloated before—college eating challenges had often left me stuffed, but never like this. This was on another level entirely. I could feel the weight of it, the sheer fullness pressing down on me, making it hard to stand upright. Every movement made my gut jiggle slightly, a constant reminder of how tightly packed it was with food.

Despite the discomfort, there was something almost fascinating about it. The sight of my body so utterly transformed, my belly swollen beyond anything I’d ever thought possible, was strangely compelling. It was as if I’d crossed some invisible line, entered a new territory where my body was no longer my own but something else entirely—something massive and insatiable.

I ran my hand over the curve of my gut one more time, feeling the tightness beneath my palm, the way my skin stretched over the fullness. Then, with a deep breath, I turned away from the mirror and headed back into the room, where the guys were waiting. 

I stumbled out of the bathroom, still in a daze from the sight of my bloated belly, and made my way to the bed. My legs were heavy, my body protesting with every step as the weight of my overstuffed gut dragged me down. As soon as I reached the edge of the bed, I let myself fall backward, the mattress groaning beneath me as I sprawled out on top of the covers. The sensation of finally lying down was a relief beyond words. My belly, round and tight, stretched upward, and I could feel the strain in my skin as it tried to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food I’d packed away.

I let out a long, contented sigh, resting a hand on the taut dome of my stomach. It was firm to the touch, barely giving under the pressure of my fingers. My eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, I was lost in the sensation of being so full, so heavy, so utterly stuffed.

The sound of laughter pulled me from my reverie. The guys were still buzzing with energy, moving around the room as they started to get ready for whatever was coming next. Jim was the first to strip off his shirt, revealing a flat but slightly rounded belly—nothing compared to mine, but still showing signs of the indulgence we’d all participated in today. He patted it with a grin, turning to show it off to Banning and Noel.

"Look at this," Jim said, chuckling. "I’m usually flat as a board, but today... man, I’m starting to show a little gut. Must have been all those pastries at the market."

Banning, who was already down to his boxers, laughed and flexed his own stomach, which was a bit bloated  than usual but nowhere near as distended as mine. "Yeah, I’m feeling it too. I think I’m still carrying around half that platter of fries we demolished earlier."

Noel joined in, lifting his shirt to reveal his own slightly swollen belly. "Same here. It’s like we’ve all turned into little food balloons, but I gotta say, Harry definitely wins the prize for the biggest gut." 

They all turned to look at me, sprawled out on the bed with my massive, bloated belly on full display. The contrast between their smaller, slightly rounded stomachs and my own overstuffed gut was almost comical. I looked like I’d swallowed a whole watermelon, while they’d only nibbled on a few snacks.

Jim grinned and gave his own belly another pat. “How are you even still conscious after all that? You’ve gotta be on the verge of passing out, mate.”

I could only groan in response, too full and too tired to form a coherent reply. My belly felt like it was about to burst, every breath a reminder of how far I’d pushed myself today. But despite the discomfort, there was a strange sense of camaraderie in the room, a bond forged through our shared gluttony.

The guys continued to joke and laugh, comparing their own bellies and teasing me about mine, but I barely heard them. All I could focus on was the heavy, aching fullness that filled every inch of my midsection. I rubbed my hand over the curve of my stomach, trying to soothe the tightness, but it was no use. I was beyond stuffed, my gut stretched to its absolute limit.

Even so, as I lay there, I couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. I had no idea how I’d let myself get talked into eating so much, but in some weird way, it had been worth it. The guys were having the time of their lives, and despite my current state, I couldn’t deny that a part of me was enjoying it too.

To be continued . . . .

For more of my stories click here

[justhereforxreaders]

The Prince and the Dragon Rider - Part Seven: The Rift

Jacaerys Velaryon x dragon rider!reader

Summary: while still reeling from your first day in King’s Landing, you must come to terms with the command given during your private conversation with Princess Rhaenyra.

Warnings: angst, anxiety/panic attacks

part one: the oath

part two: tempest

part three: the dawn

part four: the test

part five: precipice

part six: pieces and players

soundtrack - listening recommendations:

• triassic love song by Paris Paloma • I’d Have to Think About It by Leith Ross • putting a spin on good luck, babe! by Egg • Call Your Mom by Noah Kahan •

After making your way through the endless maze of The Red Keep, and finally finding your newly assigned chambers within the palace, you sat in the stillness trying to calm yourself. Though you’d have likely found more rest if you had continued to wander. The opulence of the vast, unfamiliar space only made you feel more isolated and out of place.

With no other anchor to cling to as you try to soothe your heartache, your mind drifts to your mother.

Six short years of life by her side gave you little insight into the kind of person she was, or the kind of person she hoped you’d be. She was likely kind, and certainly clever, but what you knew without question was that she was incomparably fierce. In your bleakest moments on your journey with Tempest, you’d holdfast to the memory of her strength, using it endure whatever challenges you faced.

Surviving life’s hardships was your way to honor her sacrifices. And though, you told yourself that she’d be proud of who you’d become, you’d always pondered what kind of life she’d have wished for you if survival hadn’t been her primary driving force. If she’d been given the opportunity to be carefree and gentle, what kind of person would that have made you. Surely she wanted more than mere survival for you, but was the life you sold yourself to what she’d have wanted for you? Were you still honoring her memory?

Which was why, as fierce as you had made yourself and as hard as you fought to prove your worth within a realm of dragonlords, you also strived to preserve some of the softness within you that she was denied. If there was hope that you’d be able to find a peaceful life, you wanted your heart to be able to receive it.

However, as you sit alone with an ache so powerful it feels as though your chest has been set alight, you begin to despise your effort to protect that tenderness. If all you were meant to do was simply become a pawn in someone else’s game, what use was there for softness? What need was there for love?

You are so consumed by your thoughts that you do not hear the soft knock at your door or the quiet footsteps that tiptoe across the room as you lie motionless on top of your bedding. When Jace whispers your name from the foot of the bed, it takes you a moment to realize it is not in your head.

“Are you alright?” he whispers slightly louder, voice laced with concern. “I returned to the godswood and you had already gone.”

You sit up slowly, avoiding his eyes, and fold your legs beneath you, keeping your gaze fixed on the fabric below. After a beat and no response from you, you hear him shuffle around to the side of the bed.

“What did my mother speak to you about?” He asks quietly and your breath hitches.

He takes notice and moves to sit at the edge of the bed. Unable to bring yourself to voice the Princess’s command, you force yourself to look up and find his gaze in the dark. His eyes widen at your disheveled state and he darts a hand out to grasp yours.

“What happened?” He asks in a frantic whisper. “What’s wrong?”

You close your eyes and take your hand from his, steadying yourself with a shaky breath before finding your voice.

“I have been instructed to keep my distance from you,” your voice cracks, hoarse from hours of silence following your onslaught of tears.

“By who?” He moves closer to your face to see you clearly, “My mother?”

You sigh deeply and nod your head, he stands from the bed suddenly and you watch as he begins to pace the floor.

“She believes the nature of our companionship could be called into question, thus, jeopardizing your prospects for alliances through marriage.” You mutter.

“I fail to see why anyone would concern themselves with such speculation. You are my friend. Where is the fault in that?” He huffs and continues to pace back and forth.

“Jacaerys,” you say softly, “look at us. The closeness of our friendship is no secret to anyone, but what if you were to be discovered here? Alone in my chambers in the dead of night?” He stops in his tracks, as if this is the first he’s considered this, “Accusations and assumptions would not be difficult to form.”

“Why should it matter what they say, if it isn’t true?” He mumbles, staring intently at the floor.

“It doesn’t matter what they say or what they think,” You stand, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to contain the sorrow building within, “but I cannot allow them to turn me into a weapon to be used against you.”

His head snaps up in your direction, the confusion plain on his face as you continue.

“Look at why we’ve travel all this way in the first place. There are always going to be those looking to undermine and discredit someone in your position. Whether you admit it or not, you know our friendship could harm you and your standing. I will not risk being complicit in your pain.”

“And what of the pain that your absence would inflict? Why must we be forced to choose between happiness and duty?” He pleads and steps toward you.

“Your mother tried to have both, did she not?” You say plainly and he finds your eyes before placing his hands on your arms.

“Yes but this is different, there has to be a way,” there is a desperation in his voice that you have not heard before that breaks your heart even further, “Why must her mistakes determine our future? We can find our own path.”

You step closer and unfold your arms, taking hold of his hands as he makes to pull them away.

“The moment I took my oath, I knew I was giving up my right to my own path, Jace. For a time, it was easy to forget the larger roles we would be called to play. It felt like we could have both…” your voice trails off as you absentmindedly run your thumbs across the backs of his hands, “But the pieces are moving. And we must take our place.” Your voice wavers, if there were any tears left in your body they would be flowing freely.

He looks down at your clasped hands, gripping them tighter.

“But I can’t lose you.” He utters before returning his gaze back to yours, tears beginning to form in his deep brown eyes, “If I am to walk this horrid path then I only wish to do it with you by my side.”

You both stand quietly in the darkness, searching each other’s eyes, letting his words hang in the air around the two of you.

A hushed gasp leaves his lips and he takes a step back. Eyes wide and hands trembling as they leave yours. You cross your arms over your chest, taking a ragged breath which causes Jacaerys to take half step forward. Raising a palm in protest, you step away.

“Please go,” you sob softly.

He opens his mouth slightly, a question forming on his lips.

“Please, Jace,” you interrupt as sternly as you can manage, “I can’t.”

He closes his mouth and stares at you for a moment, unmoving, eyes locked on your face. Involuntarily, he begins to walk towards the door, still watching you intently, conflict and confusion becoming clearer upon his face with every step away from you. You nod silently once he reaches the door and with one last pained glance he exits your chambers, once again leaving you in solitude.

You retreat back to the bed and collapse into the fabric, curling up on your side as the tearless sobs begin to rack your body once more. Cursing the tenderness you have allowed to blossom there. As you desperately will the pain into numbness, you are at last given some relief as you are mercifully pulled into a dreamless sleep.

You awake with the dawn in a daze, taking a moment to remember where you are as you look about your unfamiliar surroundings. Once your mind is fully pulled from the fog of sleep, you stand from the bed and make your way across the room, trying to stretch your tired muscles as you pull fresh clothes from your bag.

As you rummage through your belongings, the red cloak you were gifted when you were sworn into service comes to the surface. You look upon it quietly for a moment before retrieving your other items of clothing and rushing back to the bed to dress yourself, doing your best to stomp out the sparks of anguish that its appearance brings forth.

Dressing yourself slowly and deliberately, you keep your mind focused on each step, trying to avoid inciting any further emotional responses. However, the red of the cloak makes that task all the more difficult as it lingers in the periphery of your vision. After fully dressing you dart back to the bag, intent on burying the cloak deep within, but a knock on the door stays your hand for the moment.

A handmaiden enters and offers you a bow.

“The Lady Baela,” she announces and backs out through the door as Baela steps forward.

“Good morrow, y/n,” she says with a bright smile.

“Good morrow, my Lady,” you bow stiffly, “how can I be of service?”

She walks forward, looking over your chambers until she spies a small table then turns back to you.

“I thought we might break fast together before we make our way to the throne room for the petitions,” she grimaces slightly at the mention of today’s events, “I imagined my cousins would be occupied with other affairs and didn’t want you to be left behind.”

The thought of the Princes causes a twisting pain in your chest but you do your best to smile politely.

“Thank you,” you mutter, “that’s very kind of you.”

She makes her way across the floor to stand next to you, a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

“I wondered if you might tell me about your travels as well,” she quirks a brow inquisitively, “Rhaena has already told me so much but I’d love to hear them from you if you’re willing to share?”

“Rhaena has told you about me?” Your brow furrows as you register her words.

“She has,” she chuckles lightly at your expression, “in letters and through most of the night, in fact.”

“That is surprising,” you say, taken aback by this revelation, “I thought she despised me.”

“She may,” she shrugs, rolling her eyes at her twin,“but more than anything she hates what she was denied. When we lived in Pentos, we had heard rumors of the wild sea dragon that lurked in the waters. For a time, Rhaena had plans to find it and claim it for herself before our mother died.”

You reel back in disbelief.

“I was unaware I had such a reputation,” you breath a laugh, a genuine smile growing at the corner of your lips.

Baela smirks and nods her head.

“You and your dragon have made quite a name for yourselves,” she takes you by the crook of the arm, “I look forward to testing mine and Moondancer’s mettle against yours one day.”

“I look forward to that as well, my Lady,” you nod in agreement.

Another knock rings out and more servants enter with platters of warm food.

“Shall we?” She asks and gestures towards the table where the meal has been placed.

“Yes please,” you say with a grateful sigh.

Conversation with Baela flowed effortlessly, bringing an ease to your soul as the two of you swapped stories over the meal. The relief was much too short lived however, as once the servants had cleared the table, Baela’s handmaiden steps forward.

“It’s time, my Lady,” she informs the two of you and you freeze in place.

Baela sees the change in your demeanor and thanks her handmaiden before she stands and moves to offer her hand to pull you from your seat.

“We’ll be along shortly.” She calls with a nod before returning her attention to you.

Her eyes soften and she sighs quietly.

“My mother used to say that The Red Keep was poisonous, but that poison could not harm a dragon.”

You take her hand and she pulls you to your feet.

“You may not be the blood of the dragon. But you certainly have the heart of one,” she smiles softly meeting your eyes to ensure you understand, “Don’t let them take that from you.”

You take a deep breath and stand at attention.

“Are you ready?” She asks calmly.

“Yes,” you pause, looking back to your belongings, “just give me one moment.”

You step over to your bag pull the cloak free, swinging it over your shoulders in one swift motion before affixing it with a black dragon clasp. Returning to Baela’s side, she beams proudly and links her arm through yours.

“Onwards, Dragon Rider.”

• @freefallthoughts @eywas-heir

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐘

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Just another normal day with the boys.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Dead poets society x Reader

You’re late to breakfast again, because, let’s be honest, getting up at the crack of dawn isn’t your idea of fun. Neil is already waiting outside your dorm, practically bouncing on his heels.

"You're going to make us late for chemistry," he says, grinning, but you know he doesn’t care. He’s more excited about rehearsals later.

"Please, it’s just chemistry. What’s the worst that could happen?"

Cue Meeks walking by, fiddling with some kind of strange contraption made of wires and gears. “The worst? You could accidentally discover a chemical that wipes out our entire dorm.”

You blink. “…Is that what you’re working on?”

"He's not wrong," Pitts chimes in, balancing a stack of textbooks. “I’m still not sure what we made in class last week. Meeks said it was a radio, but—”

"It was a radio!" Meeks interrupts, offended. “We just… haven’t found a signal yet.”

Charlie greets you all with a dramatic bow at the dining hall entrance, smirking as always. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite lady. Come, join me for breakfast. I saved you a seat next to yours truly.”

You roll your eyes but take the seat, because let’s face it—arguing with Charlie Dalton is both pointless and highly amusing.

Todd’s already there, quietly poking at his scrambled eggs like they might come alive and attack him. He looks up, glancing at you, then quickly averts his eyes.

“Good morning, Todd,” you say, leaning a little closer just to see if he’ll blush.

He does. "Uh, g-good morning."

Neil slaps him on the back a little too enthusiastically. “Relax, Todd! She’s not going to bite.”

Charlie, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh, stretches an arm across the back of your chair. “Although, she does seem like the type, doesn’t she? A real heartbreaker.”

Neil elbows him before you can respond. “Careful, Dalton, she might take that as a challenge.”

Across the table, Knox is staring wistfully into space, most likely daydreaming about Chris—again. He hasn't touched his food, too busy scribbling something in his notebook, probably a love letter.

“You’re still writing those?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I think she’ll appreciate the poetry,” Knox says dreamily. “I’ve just got to find the right words. Something that’ll really speak to her soul.”

“Yeah, you and every other lovesick poet in history.” Charlie says, leaning in way too close to you with that smirk. “You know, I could write a love letter… right now… addressed to you.”

“I could throw a book at you right now,” you fire back, raising your diary threateningly. He raises his hands in surrender, but not before tossing in another playful wink.

Todd's buried in a book, his foot tapping nervously under the desk. You nudge him, trying to bring him back to reality. “Relax, Todd, it's just a pop quiz. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Todd looks at you with wide eyes, whispering, “Uh… failing? Public humiliation? Charlie staging a protest because we’re being ‘oppressed by academia’?”

You grin. “I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t done that already.”

Across the room, Pitts and Meeks are still quietly tinkering with the radio, muttering about antenna lengths and frequency adjustments. “Try 89.5,” Pitts suggests.

Meeks sighs. “We’ve tried 89.5 like six times, Pitts.”

Charlie overhears, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe it’s not the signal you’re missing. Maybe the universe just doesn’t want you to hear it.”

You roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Or maybe you two just need to admit your invention is a little cursed.”

Mr. Keating’s class is the highlight, as usual. Today, he’s making everyone stand on their desks to recite poetry.

“Well done!” he says, clapping. “That’s the spirit, seize the day!”

Charlie gets up next and, of course, winks at you mid-recitation. "What is life, if not the pursuit of—”

“Dalton, sit down before you fall,” Keating interrupts, though he’s clearly holding back a smile.

"Today," Keating says with a gleam in his eye, "we’ll be looking at life through a different lens."

Neil nudges you, whispering, "This is gonna be good."

Charlie, lounging in the back, raises his hand. "Mr. Keating, does that lens involve skipping the rest of class for some fresh air?"

Keating grins, not missing a beat. "Now, Nuwanda, where’s the fun in that? We’ve got poetry to read, minds to bend."

Knox is still writing furiously in his notebook, glancing up every so often to see if anyone’s noticed. "Do you think Chris likes daisies? Maybe roses? What if she’s allergic? Should I ask her?"

Neil glances over. "Knox, you haven’t even spoken to her yet."

Todd, beside you, whispers, "Maybe he should just… say hi?"

"You’re all missing the point!" Charlie exclaims, dramatically flinging his arms. "The real romance is right in front of you!" He points to you, leaning in like he’s about to make a grand declaration.

"Charlie, if you flirt with me one more time—"

"You’ll fall in love with me?"

"Absolutely not."

By the time the day winds down, Pitts and Meeks are still muttering over their radio. "Maybe if we try it with a wire hanger," Pitts suggests, looking deeply contemplative. "I swear I heard a sound earlier."

“I think we need to recalibrate the frequency,” Meeks mutters, twisting a knob.

“You’ve been recalibrating the frequency for three days,” you point out, biting into an apple.

“It’s all about persistence,” Pitts says with a determined nod.

“Or delusion,” Charlie adds, stealing your apple out of your hand and taking a huge bite, just to annoy you.

Afternoon rolls around, and you’re barely keeping up in Latin class, but Neil’s right beside you, scribbling notes like a machine. He gives you a reassuring smile, as if to say, You’ll get it. You won’t, but it’s sweet that he believes in you anyway.

After classes, you all meet by the cave for a Dead Poets meeting, the air filled with the smell of damp earth. Charlie’s reciting some scandalous poem he found, Knox is asking for feedback on his latest love letter, and Todd’s nervously glancing at the fire, probably worried it’s going to get out of control. Neil reads Shakespeare with such passion that you’re half convinced he’s going to run off to join a theater company by the end of the week.

By the time the sun sets, you’re all laughing, a little too loud for the quiet woods around you, but who cares? It feels like, for a moment, the whole world belongs to you and this crazy group of boys.

As you head back to the dorms, Charlie walks beside you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So… you coming to watch me play tonight? I’m thinking of dedicating my next solo to someone very special.”

You laugh, pushing him away. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Dalton.”

He leans closer, voice low. “You can deny it all you want, but we both know you’re just here for my charm.”

“You wish,” you say, shaking your head, but smiling anyway.

Todd trails behind, stammering about needing to study for tomorrow's exam, while Neil drags him back to the group, promising they’ll make time for both. Knox, lost in thought about Chris, sighs dreamily. Pitts and Meeks are still discussing their radio, determined that one day, it will pick up a signal.

As everyone heads back to their rooms, Neil gives you a tired smile. "Another day survived."

You laugh. "Barely."

Todd lingers awkwardly, giving you a shy wave before scurrying off, while Charlie blows you a kiss. "Until tomorrow, my muse."

thank you so much for the request @march32nd!! i loved writing this one 💕

[hwnglx]

that shuffled song is cute, what a plot twist. the lyrics do fit. this reading was quite extensive though, he has so much depth to his personality.

lee know's real personality behind the scenes

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

shuffled song: sunshine by stray kids

+ lee know is an incredibly independent guy. he seems to have overcome a good amount of hardship in the past, which has equipped him with this profound ability to heal himself, and led to him being pretty self-reliant. he's always been sensitive, still is sensitive; but good at handling it now. he's an example of someone who took the pain in his life, and has been able to turn it into a valuable lesson for himself. not only that, the things he went through shaped him into a person full of wisdom and depth, who has a good understanding of life. i can see him giving valuable advice to people, and being this person you can comfortably seek in times of tribulation.

he is an amazing listener as well. people feel comfortable talking to him about anything, really. he's someone who's good at attuning himself and his energy to people's specific needs, which can make him very pleasant to be around.

hugely perfectionistic. lee know is the type of person who works quietly but puts in consistent effort. i got reminded of when skz filmed their survival show back in the day, and lee know got eliminated. even after dropping out, he continued to practice tirelessly by himself. that seems to be a good reflection of the type of hardworker he is behind closed doors. he holds himself to insanely high standards, and wants to continue discovering an even better and improved version of himself all the time; especially in regards to his career. he isn't the type to work for other people's approval and crave their validation, but moreso his own satisfaction and fulfilment. he feels his best when he's able to conquer challenges with his own strength, and isn't dependent on anyone's assistance.

there is this very slow-moving and patient energy to him, where he isn't impulsive and doesn't rush into things. he makes sure he contemplates his actions several times before actually going through with them. this makes him a considerate guy who respects people's boundaries. the people he surrounds himself with, lee know choses wisely and carefully. he won't just give his precious time to anyone. but the people he does spend it with, he cherishes dearly.

this is so interesting, because on the one hand he can give off this immensely individualistic energy, where he just kinda lives in his own world to his own accord, yet on the other hand, he's someone who deeply values the handful of people he's close to. there is this nurturing and loyal side of lee know only the ones close to him could tell you about. he puts a lot of importance into looking after his intimate circle of friends and family, and making sure they feel cared for.

- lee know is quite conventional and more traditional in his views. i don't necessarily see him being judgemental or condemning things or people different to him out of malice, he just consciously rejects them for himself since they're so foreign to him. he prefers staying in his own bubble and living the lifestyle he's already familiar with and accustomed to. he hates when people stick their nose in his business though, or pretend they have a say in his life. he lives his life based on his own beliefs, values and desires, and will get genuinely annoyed if someone pretends they know what's good for him.

his caution can also go to extremes sometimes. he's the type of person to only invest energy into something, when he himself sees substantial benefit behind it. if something feels empty to him, he won't entertain it any longer. he also seems to be a person who doesn't enjoy the feeling of regret, it just seems to kinda linger in him and nag at him for a while, which is why he's extra careful about how he proceeds in several areas of life. even if, let's say he has this seed of an idea for something in his head; it's likely he won't always bravely go forward with it, out of fear of it potentially going wrong. he's hesitant to take any risks out of fear of losing his grip on what he's built till now. almost like he has this house of cards, and is trying to hold back any wind from making it fall down.

lee know is a person who doesn't enjoy displaying his negative and more self-deprecating emotions (like self-doubt, lack of confidence, insecurity or regret) externally and can therefore be prone to swallowing them, and internalizing them. this can lead to them potentially coming up in a more rash and stronger manner later on.

he will not hold back if you manage to provoke him, or rub him the wrong way. in general he actively avoids conflict or drama, but if he catches someone intentionally sticking a dagger in him, he won't be the type to just stay silent. he can get very offensive and blunt, his words can get sharp as a knife, they're often quite hurtful. (very scorpio mercury thing) he just knows how to push people's buttons. he's excellent at reading people, and has a quick wit. so he'll probably have your vulnerable spots already all figured out before you even know it, and hit you at places he knows will trigger you.

a lot of this seems to stem from him just being on guard a lot. he doesn't wanna get hurt, so if a person manages to make him feel threatened, he's likely to go into verbal offense mode out of self protection. i just heard “hurt people hurt people”. as mentioned before, he's gone through his fair share of struggle until now. reason why he seems extra protective of his peace at this point in time.

[thelonelyshore-if]

Can we have Mc-going-out-on-date with some rando? Lets also say this is when Ros are also in deep crushing stage. Need some angsty-ish 👉👈😅

Ah very fun!! Crushing stage offers so many opportunities for angst c:

Beck- would honestly see it as a challenge lmao. Like--they'd respect MC's choices, but if it seemed like this was just a casual date, they'd up their efforts to charm the MC. Flirting more, asking them out, trying to get their attention, etc. If it seemed serious, though...they'd back off, and feel rough about it.

Croft- they'd instantly bristle, and would avoid MC after. It would feel like a betrayal, even though they know it's their fault. They should have said something sooner. They'd be heartbroken and it would channel into frustration. This is why they try to avoid catching feelings. It only leads to anguish.

Jay- their heart would ache. They should have said something sooner. Why didn't they? They'd try to subtly ask MC how serious it was. If the date was serious, Jay would back down, heartbroken. But if it was casual? They'd confess their feelings. Better do it now, before they live to regret it. At least this way MC knows.

Perri- it would be terrible for them. They always assume that they'd be everyone's last choice, and here's proof. MC's already dating somebody else. Perri wouldn't stick around long enough to hear if it was serious or not--they'd just assume they lost their chance. Of course MC wouldn't want to date them. Who would?

Ravi- why should he care? It's just some...stranger. Nobody important. Ravi would push down his feelings to the best of his ability. It doesn't bother him. MC has a right to live their own life, it doesn't affect him. Inside he'd be icing over. He'd be unusually curt with MC after, being unable to process his own feelings in any meaningful way.

Yasmin- she'd be sad, a little, if she had developed romantic feelings for MC. At the same time, she's always been clear that she wants something casual. How was MC supposed to know anything changed? She does her best to not let her bother her. In fact, she'd try to be friendly about it--asking MC about the date, trying to be engaged in how it went, etc.

[belligerentmistletoe]

If Jr NTR had been cast in Magadheera

[lloydfrontera]

tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.

but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Send me good wishes yall. I'm going to try and work on some late work when I get home but I'm chronically bad at doing that without an energy drink but I'm not ready for the impending doom of selling my soul to energy drinks so I can function

Uuhhhhhhhhh I accidentally went on a tangent and there's a whole vent in the tags oopsies

[wren-likethe-bird]

lil rant in the tags

[sk3l3t0n444]

my beloved big challenges