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targaryenluvs · 5 months

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LITTLE OLD ME? / SAM WINCHESTER

PAIRINGS: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: With the prospect of leaving you to find his father, Sam finds himself running out of time to tell you just how much you mean to him. But do you feel the same? And who’ll confess first?

WORDCOUNT: 2.6K Words

WARNINGS: Pining, jealousy, clueless Sam, teasing, confessions, angst, fluff, kisses, dual pov, arguments, THESE KIDS ARE CLUELESS!!! Lazy writing from me so I used the script

A/N: Set in season one! He’s too cute, he’s so cute I might just faint 😫 I’ll have some dark Sam soon don’t worry I always balance the scales 😋 Me… writing fluff?? unheard of! No Jess slander here too she’s your friend :P italics = flashbacks/thoughts/exaggerations HAHAH I ACCIDENTALLY ADDED MY NAME IN IM GOING TO KMS I’ve changed it now 🤣

AO3 Link

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Sam had first met you at a party.

A friend of his had dragged him along, claiming that the College experience was not just about studying. Sam didn’t want to be there, but he also didn’t want to disappoint him.

He ended up letting his friend disperse, interacting with the people he knew. Sam knew no one at this party, it consisted of another schools students and a few familiar faces. He nodded at a few but found himself standing in a corner and trying to choose which assignment he was going to finish off when he got to his place.

Which is when he saw you, with one of the biggest smiles on your faces. And Sam couldn’t help but smile along with you. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know what on Earth was so funny, he wanted to smile because you were. It seemed like everyone circled you.

Your friend had noticed him staring your way about a minute ago, but didn’t want to be wrong. So she kept moving you around and dragging you to new people. Lo and behold, his eyes followed. Based on her check, he seemed sweet. He didn’t stare at your ass or your chest, just your face. He laughed and smiled when you did.

He seemed to admiring, and she liked it. Sam’s friend, Mason, returned to the room with a girl on his arm. She watched as Sam side hugged him once he returned.

Mutual friend? Check!

“If you drag me anywhere else my arm is going to fall off Jess!” The party seemingly faded away as you made eye contact with him, god was he cute. His gorgeous brown eyes and hair were more than enough to render you tongue-tied. Sam looked like a deer in headlights as he stared at you, why were you in front of him?

Had he been staring too long?

“Mace! There you are.” The two of them exchanged pleasantries, “Oh, this is my friend Y/n. Mason, Y/n.” Mason reached his hand out to you as you smiled at him. Sam found himself holding his breath, your smile is even bigger now.

He wanted you to smile his way, “This here is Sam! Sam, Y/n.” Jess and Mason shared the same idea as the three others watched as you smiled, “It’s nice to meet you Sam, you can just call me Y/n/n.” He snapped out of his daze and shook your hand, hoping it wasn’t sweaty.

“Sam, I’m Sam. You know that, Mason told you. But uh, you can call me Sammy.” Masons eyebrows furrowed at the notion, he never called him Sammy. The girl on his arm tugged, “Let’s let these two get, acquainted.”

And that you did.

For the rest of the night, you may not have had as much to drink as the others, but you had one of the best nights of your life. You started off in the corner of the room, slowly getting to know eachother. The night led you outside, thumping music and shouts drowned out by the others presence.

Then somehow you ended up heading out for Ice Cream and then at the park. Sitting on swings and laughing at his awful jokes, you’d never felt more care-free. The night was full, and you were thankful.

He shone, if that made sense. Sam was a shot of espresso, and you were an addict. As cheesy as it sounds, you found him to bring color into your life. Your life wasn’t dreary and depressing, but it was boring. You found yourself going from class to your bed, the library, or working.

You had friends, yes, but not too many you could actually rely on if need be. That you trusted. And within one night, you found yourself pushing Sam to the top of that list.

Sam liked you from the get go, how could he not? With your infectious laughter and smile, kind eyes and understanding self. And you listened, with your whole body. You digested everything you heard and were full of empathy. He needed someone like you.

You’d been best friends since then, your first year of college. Best friends and undeniably in love with eachother. Not that the two of you ever noticed. It infuriated Jess and Mason to no end. The two of them saw it, every time you all hung out. The way Sam clung onto everything you said, as if it was Gospel.

The way your eyes practically glistened when he spoke or smiled. You looked up to eachother with so much emotion it hurt the soul. And the second the other was approached? All bets were off.

No man or woman in their mind continued to pursue you once they caught a glimpse of the huge, 6’5 giant behind you. Sometimes they’d keep going, but then he’d come up behind you with some stupid excuse to get you to go back to the table. And that person was left face to face with Sam and his unsettling smile, “You waiting for something?” A quick shake of the head and they were gone.

But it didn’t matter, whether or not you got together or not. You had eachothers backs at the end of the day, no matter what was going on. Even if you were fighting.

The night Sam’s life changed, you were drunk.

The two of you had an argument earlier on.

You ran your fingers through your hair as Sam followed you through the hallway of the apartment building, “Stop walking away from me!” You stopped in your tracks and turned to him, “Stop telling me what to do!”

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m trying to keep you safe Y/n/n.” His voice was softer now, and it pissed you off. How on Earth were you supposed to be angry with him when he looked like that. And then the eyes? Ugh!

“It seems like you’re always babying me Sam! I can go out with who I want to.” He sighed, taking a step closer he held onto your hands, “I’m not babying you, again, I just want to keep you safe.” You pursed your lips before crossing your arms, “What’s wrong with Ben?”

He’s a vampire.

“Y/n, please.” He was pleading, but you didn’t care.

“No! I never get a clear answer from you. Why don’t you want me to go out with him?” Your voice quivered as you waited for his response. You noticed his jaw clench, you could tell he was keeping his answer under wraps.

Is it because you like me?

“I- I-,” The words wouldn’t form in his mouth and he couldn’t find a decent answer.

“Good one Sam. I’m leaving.”

He watched as you entered the elevator, guilty eyes unwilling to meet his. He sighed as his head hung low, hands stuffed into his pockets.

Sam had been invited to go out that night, he turned it down. Jess had let him know which club the two of you had gone to, and kept him updated on whereabouts. If you needed a ride and he was out, it would take him about thirty minutes to get to you from his party.

A lot can happen in thirty minutes.

His phone ringing drew him out of the light sleep that he’d fallen under, “Hello?” The sleep in his voice was evident to Jess, “Hey Sam. It’s Y/n time.” He scoffed at the term whilst chucking on a jacket and grabbing his keys, “I’ll be there in 10.”

You hadn’t wanted to see Sam, which was what you’d told Jess, repeatedly. Even if it was most definitely not true. Sam and Jess had successfully stuffed your unconscious self into your car, you’d had Jess pick you up after the argument.

He’d been carrying you to his bed when you’d stirred, “I’m sorry. F-for fighting with you. Ben’s a bitch.” Sam laughed at your crude language as he laid you down on the your side of the bed. You’d claimed it the second he’d invited you over to his new place. “Glad to hear it Y/n/‘.” Sam settled on his knees, removing your heels.

“Sweetheart?” Hair fell in front of your face as you turned to face him, “Mhm?” He moved it behind your ear, “You okay if I change you?” A half-assed thumbs up and a lopsided smile was all you could muster. He knew you wouldn’t mind anyways. You’d told him on multiple occasions that you’d murder him if he let you sleep in your makeup too.

“Could you ever be friends with me if I always had run down make up slobbered over me all the time?” You both sat in front of the TV, chowing down on pizza. “I thought that was your usual look?” The pillow you threw his way had begun a pillow war.

He removed your dress before picking out a shirt of yours and boxers. Since it was your favourite combo. Sam smiled at the notion of you practically swamped by his clothes. Using the makeup wipes you had stashed in the bathroom, he gently cleaned your face before settling in for the night. You quickly turned over to bury into the side of your personal furnace.

Sam’s eyes shot open at the sound, it was darker than before, later in the night. You being settled into his side checked off the possibility of you rattling around in the kitchen for a midnight snack. Quickly checking it out he was met with his brother Dean after a tussle.

“Whoa, easy, tiger.” Sam glared at Dean whilst trying to catch his breath, “Dean?” He laughed at Sam, “You scared the crap outta me!” Dean grinned, “That's 'cause you're out of practice.”

Whether he was offended or annoyed, Sam took the opportunity. He grabbed Dean’s hand and managed to turn him and they ended up on the floor.

Dean groaned, “Or not.” Dean tapped him twice where Sam was holding him. “Get off of me.” A small smile came across the youngest Winchester’s face as he rolled to his feet and pulled Dean up.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Brushing himself off he straightened up, “Well, I was looking for a beer.”

Dean placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders, shaking once, and letting go. Sam was understandably confused, “What the hell are you doing here?” The elder of the two relented, “Okay. All right. We gotta talk.”

“Uh, the phone?” Sam crossed his arms as Dean rolled his eyes, “If I'd'a called, would you have picked up?”

Fair point.

The murmurs and bumps were more than enough to wake you up. You made your way to the source before turning the light on. Cursing whatever Sam chose for you to wear, it was cold.

“Sammy?” Your voice was like honey to the two of them, Dean couldn’t help but look at you appreciatively whilst clocking onto the fact that you called him Sammy. The boxers, the bare legs and the cute tired look on your face.

Sam and Dean turned their heads in unison to the sweet voice, “Y/n/n. Hey. Dean, this is my gir— friend. Uh, best friend. Y/n.” Sam cringed internally at his words.

Your face was painted in confusion as your brain finally processed his words, “Wait, your brother Dean?”

You smiled as Sam nodded, you’d always wanted to meet him. Dean grinned at you and moved closer.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league.” You stuttered at the prospect of being Sam’s girlfriend. But you weren’t in the mood to deny it unless he did.

“I—, we aren’t— ,” By a glimpse you could see Sam’s eyes staring straight into Dean’s head, “Alright, why don’t you back up a little Dean?” Sam spoke as Dean laughed, “Just let me put something on.” As you turned to go a voice stops you.

“No, no, no, I wouldn't dream of it. Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business. But, uh, nice meeting you.” You smiled at him, “Nice to meet you too Dean.”

“No.” Sam goes over to Y/n and put his arm around her, “No, whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of her. She’s my best friend.” That’s how you two were, touch was never weird for you two. It’s why you were always mistaken for a couple.

Dean sighs, “Okay.” He turns to look at them both straight on, “Um, Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.” Sam nodded along, “So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later.”

Dean ducked his head and looked back up at the couple in front of him.

“Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

Sam expression didn’t change as he nods along. Y/n glanced up at him with a frown, “You never told me your Dad still hunts.” Sam’s lips pressed into a tight smile, “Y/n/n, excuse us. We have to go outside.” You nodded at him, “Can I borrow you, really quickly?”

Dean nodded as Sam smiled, “Of course.” Sitting down on the bed as Sam sat next to you, “If your dad’s missing then are you going to go look for him?” He didn’t know yet, he didn’t even know the whole story yet. “It depends I guess. Where he last was and what Dean tells me.”

“But what about Monday?” Sam couldn’t help but smile, of course you were worried about things that weren’t yours. “I’ll be back in time, I swear Y/n/n.”

He glanced over at you, your hands were in your lap as you smiled, “I know you haven’t told me what your dad hunts. But, I’ve seen your old diary.” His eyes immediately widened, “Y/n—,”

“I believe it, don’t worry. How can I not? I’ve watched my fair share of horror films and Buffy. Plus, my mum always used to tell me to keep an open mind to everything.” Sam had to take a second to grasp everything that had tumbled out from between your lips, “Wait— you knew?”

Your giggles were prominent, until it blew out into a laugh attack, “You should see your face! Of course I knew!” His eyebrows twisted as he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t— what?” You grabbed his hands and clutched onto to them, “Baby, come on. All the random facts you always have, that one time you kept talking about the inaccuracies about Vampires. And then today,”

Sam’s face looked as if it had been drained or color, “If this is about—,”

“You sent an article that morning about Vampires and how they should actually be beheaded. And then a random story about them getting close to people abnormally quick. Which is exactly what happened with Ben. I got mad at you because I couldn’t figure out why you wouldn’t just tell me.”

Sam sighed, “Well you can’t blame me for being cautious. And most people don’t handle the whole, ‘Ghosts are real’ bit that easily.”

“Well I’m not most people Sammy.”

“No, no you’re not. You’re better, you always have been Y/n.” The air in the room had apparently been drained, since you couldn’t breathe. Not with those gorgeous eyes staring down at you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If you’re not about to kiss me I give this interaction a minus 0 out of 10.” Sam scoffed, “So you’re rating me now?” You jokingly nodded as his hand was placed on your cheek before kissing you.

And God was it worth the wait.

As you pulled away you couldn’t believe you finally had him.

“100/10.”

“What an honour.”

You couldn’t help yourself as you kissed the tip of his nose, “Anything for something as cute as you.”

“Who, little old me?”

#supernatural x fem!reader #supernatural x you #supernatural x reader #spn x you #spn x reader #spn fanfic #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x fem!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader

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emeritusemeritus · 1 year

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Girlfriend Wars [Fred Weasley]

(Gif not mine)

Title: Girlfriend Wars

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Gryffindor!reader (established relationship) & George Weasley x Angelina Johnson (established relationship)

Timeline: Non-specified, though I imagined it set after Goblet of Fire.

Summary: Angelina Johnson, girlfriend of George Weasley, struggles telling her boyfriend and his twin brother apart. Reader, girlfriend of Fred, does not. Only a game of blind testing can determine who is better at telling the twins apart.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual acts, though no graphic description or smut is used, established relationships. Pretty much fluff.

As always, I’ve used artistic license to allow access to both dorms, regardless of sex, for the benefit of the story.

There were many things you loved about your boyfriend Fred being an identical twin, especially as you were so close with his slightly younger brother; constant companionship, lifelong friendship, dual protectiveness that couldn't be matched. On the other hand, there were a few things you disliked entirely; the inability to find much alone time and the constant fear of being walked in on (this was more due to them sharing a room and a dorm... but it still counted).

The thing you hated most of all however, was people mistaking your boyfriend for George. And by people, specifically George's girlfriend Angelina. How the hell she couldn't tell her own boyfriend apart from his twin brother baffled you completely.

Fred's reaction to her constantly mistaking her for his brother did however amuse you enough to make up for any grievance you had on the matter.

You were sat in the common room long after classes had finished, Harry, Ron and Hermione sat on one sofa, Ginny and you sat on the other. Fred was talking to Lee and some first years over in the corner, no doubt plotting something or making a deal you didn't want to know about whilst George had ran up to their dorm to fetch something relating to their scheme. You all flickered your eyes over to the sound of the door opening and saw that Angelina, Alicia and Katie had walked in, books in hand, as they made their way into the room.

You followed her diligently with your eyes as she headed straight towards Fred with a smile on her face. Both Lee and Fred had begun walking back over to you, Fred pocketing a few sickles into his trousers with the smug smirk on his lips. As she approached him in the middle of the common room, he briefly looked up at her and without hesitation he bluntly said "nope," and carried on walking back over to your group. She stood dumbfounded for a few moments, shocked at the sudden rejection until Fred dropped down onto the sofa between you and Ginny and threw his arm around you, not even slightly fazed by her. You had to bite your lip not to laugh at Fred's blunt delivery and her following reaction, much like Ginny who had watched the entire thing and was trying to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle the giggles threatening to spill out.

George had walked down the stairs carrying their briefcase only a few moments later and smiled at his girlfriend who stood there with an almighty awkward expression. George absently threw the briefcase over to Fred who luckily caught it before it could hit anyone as George went to go kiss his girlfriend, blissfully unaware of the situation that had just nearly unfolded. Ginny walked off at this point to join Harry and Ron after her brother had called her over, sitting on the floor in front of Hermione as they conversed. Fred threw down the briefcase onto the now vacant seat beside him and shoved the sickles he'd made into the little velvet coin pouch before closing the briefcase.

"How does she get so confused?" You asked out loud, quiet enough so that only Fred could hear. "You don't even look the same."

Fred turned to face you and gave you a look of utter confusion at your statement, declaring that he and his identical twin didn't look the same, "are you joking?"

"No," you laughed, though it was true. You'd spent so much time with both the twins that you were able to tell them apart easily.

The truth was that you'd developed feelings for Fred early on in your friendship and those feelings had caused you to finally tune your ability to tell them apart, never wanting to be caught staring or flirting with the wrong twin. Over time, you had begun to notice all the differences between them that only seemed to be exaggerated as they grew up and now to you, you could hardly see them as identical anymore.

"You look more like Percy," you joked, deadpan in expression. Fred immediately took offence and lunged at you, tickling you into submission as he laughed at your squirming body. Tears threatened to spill at the intensity of the tickles as Fred knew the exact spots to target to make you relent.

"Seriously though, you don't look remotely identical to me," you said after you'd recovered and caught your breath. A familiar, foreboding twinkle suddenly appeared in Fred's eyes, which from experience you knew meant something potentially dangerous was about to happen.

"Oi Georgie!" Fred shouts as he looks over towards his brother who was still stood with Angelina, smiling and whispering cutely to each other. George whips his head round to look at the mischievous brother with a questioning gaze. "I've had an idea." Never a good thing to hear come from Fred Weasley's mouth, you thought.

George made his way over to you both almost immediately, trailing Angelina with him by their interlocked hands. "Sup Freddie?"

"My girl says we don't look identical, I think we should put it to the test," Fred says with his trademark smirk, casting a wicked glance at you as he slings his arm back around your shoulders.

"What do you mean not identical?" George says in bewilderment as he looks at you. You shrug in reply, unfazed and unashamed of your statement. Surely it shouldn't be a surprise to him, you'd been foiling their attempts at switching places many times over the years, never believing them when they actively tried to persuade you that the one wearing the G jumper was George and the alternative when you knew for a fact it was not.

"What do you say? Girlfriend test!" Fred says, pointing between you and Angelina. You cast a glance at Angelina who looked absolutely mortified by the proposition, clearly unsure of her ability to differentiate between to the two. You on the other hand laughed at the suggestion, thinking it could actually be quite fun.

"Yeah wicked!" George laughs, sharing a look at his brother before turning towards his girlfriend and immediately seeing her trepidation, "unless you don't want to." Angelina looks towards you and sees that you are clearly up for the challenge with your smile.

"Uh sure," she says nervously, feigning a smile towards her boyfriend. You turn to Fred and share a knowing glance at each other, knowing she wouldn't have the faintest chance of winning, she could barely tell them apart right next to each other.

"Jordan you're referee," George says, calling over Lee who seemed to unquestioningly fall into line with their plan, just as usual.

It takes all of five minutes to arrive at the boys dorm where you would conduct your little game, away from the prying eyes and ears of the other students. You and Angelina were sat on two wooden chairs in the middle of the messy room, awaiting orders. You were laughing at something Lee said as he prepared notes, taking his role of referee very seriously whereas Angelina was sat quietly with a smug smile on her lips, apparently finding her confidence.

"Right, Angelina you are contestant A, y/n you're contestant B. Winner gets to chose their own prize. Rule number one, no hard feelings whatever happens," Lee says, looking towards all of you as you nod. "Rule two, no inappropriate touching or contact with the other brother's girlfriend." Again, earning a very honest nod, each of you knowing the clear boundaries there. "Rule three, um, I guess that's it really. I'm keeping score, ladies, blindfolds on." He handed out two spare house ties to both you and Angelina and your respective boyfriends began to tie them around your eyes so that you would be completely blindfolded. You could hear George and Angelina struggling with the task, no doubt because of George's stumbling and nerves, catching Angelina's hair in the bind. Fred however, had no issues getting you blindfolded, and had even leaned down into your ear to teasingly whisper, "this is familiar princess", earning him a not so gentle shove to shut him up which he laughs at.

"Okay, girls what number am I holding up?" Lee asks, checking that you couldn't see anything.

"Umm 4?" Angelina replies, taking a wild guess and sounding unsure of herself.

"How do I know? I'm blindfolded you tosspot," you joked, earning a laugh from all three boys in the room but not from the girl beside you. You felt a hand on your shoulder briefly, knowing that it was Fred who had not yet moved away from you, his thumb absently stroking the patch of skin he could touch over your collar.

"Right, round one!" Lee announces. "Starting easy, we're starting with their voices, gentlemen I'd like you to gather around contestant A and say her name out loud," Lee says, falling deeper into a role of gameshow host rather than referee. You feel Fred move away from behind you as the twins shuffle about and approach Angelina.

"Angelina."

"Umm, the first one?" She asks, unsure of herself.

"Correct!" Lee says and you hear Angelina huff out a relieved breath.

"Contestant B!" You heard a shuffling at the twins moved to stand each side of you.

"Y/n."

There was no denying that their voices were eerily similar but you had a finely tuned ear and could tell that the slightly breathiness of the first voice was undoubtedly your boyfriend.

"First one was Fred," you said quickly.

"Correct! Okay ladies keep the blindfolds on, next we're doing a touch test. One twin will stand in front of you and you can touch their face to determine if it's your boyfriend or not."

They started with Angelina, one of them stepping closer to crouch down in front of her so that she could try and feel for who it was. A minute passed and she was clearly struggling.

"Um, George?" She says nervously. A moment of silence passes until Lee speaks out, "incorrect that was Fred Weasley! Contestant B!"

You feel one of the twins moving to stand in front of you, crouching down so that you were eye level with each other. You begin to feel around for the face and begin by touching their hair and bringing your right hand down to the right eyebrow, trying to be gentle and not gauge any eyes out in the process. You smirked, feeling the telltale scar that sat on the eyebrow of your boyfriend and ran your finger over his cheek towards his nose to check for the little chicken pox scar. Once you were certain, you slowly ran your fingers down his face towards hip lip and leaned forward with a smirk to capture his lips with yours, knowing exactly who it was. You pulled away, hearing Fred let out a little breath of laughter and you spoke clearly, "Freddie," before leaning in to whisper to him, "hoped it was George." You immediately squealed, feeling him tickle you as a punishment for your teasing as Lee announced your were correct.

"Okay last round, a kiss test," Jordan says. Immediately you and Angelina squark out your complaints but he silences you a moment later, "forehead kiss only." Angelina went first and incorrectly guessed that it was Fred, even though it was actually George who had kissed her.

"Y/n, last chance to take a clean sweep!"

You felt movement in front of you and then felt a pair of lips delicately place a kiss on your forehead. The kiss immediately felt wrong, like there was a shyness to it. You didn't doubt that Fred would try his hardest to try and confuse you by not kissing you in his regular style but this felt entirely different. You could also smell the strong laundry smell that radiated off the Molly crafted, knitted jumper that George was wearing, whereas Fred was still wearing his shirt and jumper, meaning that it could only be one person.

"Georgie gross!" You laughed, attempting to wipe the spot he had kissed, earning a laugh from the boys in the room.

"Contestant B is the winner!" Lee announced as someone reached around to untie your makeshift blindfold, immediately coming face to face with Fred who lunged into a kiss as you both smiled at your victory.

As you pulled apart, you saw that George and Angelina looked slightly awkward with each other and you had to cringe a little at their interaction, feeling a little guilty for them.

"Good game, good game," Lee went around shaking everyone's hand as the room filled with laughter.

"Mate you could always be a game show host if the quidditch commentator thing doesn't work out," you laughed as he lit up and nodded enthusiastically at the prospect.

"So," Fred whispers into your ear, coming to stand behind you as he leans down to rest his head on your shoulder, his arms shaking around your waist. "What will your prize be princess?" His voice is dripping with innuendo as he teases you and you can picture the smirk on his face already as he nuzzles into your hair. "Watching one of your favourite muggle movies, a sugar mouse from honeydukes or something better?"

His mouth comes to nibble at your neck gently, just enough to cause a shiver to run over you as he licks at the mark he's just made. You twist your neck to look up at him, not answering his question directly and grin devilishly as you reply, telling him all that he needed to know, "better put that tongue away Weasley, you'll be needing it later."

Fred openly groans as his head falls on your shoulder at the implication of your words, his arms pulling you in tighter as arousal washes over him, knowing exactly what it did to him. You let out a little chuckle and move to spin around around in his arms to that you're facing each other, both smiling as he pulls you in for a scorching kiss.

"Um, I'm still here you know," Lee says jokingly, earning a quick pillow to the head as Fred breaks the kiss only for a second to reach down and launch the closest pillow at him with impressive precision.

"Point taken, maybe I'll go find George and Angelina," he mumbles, causing you and Fred to pull apart, realising that the other couple had since evacuated.

"I feel kind of bad," you admitted.

"For being able to tell which twin is your boyfriend? Thought that was a basic requirement to be honest," Fred replies, mocking Angelina in a subtle way. You tap his chest at his words, but couldn't deny he was wrong.

"I'm just saying, a few mistakes I can understand, especially from behind or something but she clearly can't even tell in broad daylight," he snickers.

"Maybe it's all a ploy, maybe it's you she actually wants and just uses it as an excuse," you laugh, earning a bark of laughter from Fred.

"Well I am the better looking twin," he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Amen," you say, pulling him by the collar for another kiss until you pull away, giving him your most seductive look as you pull him by the hand towards the edge of his bed.

"So... my prize," you say seductively, enjoying seeing the look of shock and excitement quickly pass over his face until the look of arousal washes over his twinkling eyes and a small smirk tugs at his lips.

"Colloportus," Fred says absently, pulling his wand from his pocket and pointing it towards the door, locking it with just a flick of his wrist, allowing you to claim your prize in private.

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #harry potter #emeritusemerituswrites #emeritusemeritus

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felassan · 3 months

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Some more new details from this article about DA:TV.

Rook loses consciousness at the start of the game:

"There's a giant tear in the sky, with the Veil weakening and demons invading. Players are forced to fight their way to the source with but a detour or two before them. Along the way, they meet a few allies, including the beloved storyteller Varric Tethras and a powerful mage. Together, they push forward and are met with a boss battle against a Pride Demon. From there, things go from bad to worse, the main player character loses consciousness, and the world of Thedas—and its survival—depends upon the player."

Also on the opening: Varric and Harding had tracked Solas to Minrathous. We meet low-level Venatori agents in the bar. If you choose to attack, the notification that pops up about what Varric thinks says that Varric would remember that Rook prefers actions to words. Then,

"Then the sky tore apart and a tear in the Veil, seemingly the size of the Breach, appeared. The Veil grew thin and demons poured into Minrathous, tearing the city apart as the castle tried to shoot them from the sky - damaging the lower city in the process. Solas was nearby then, but the priority was linking up with Harding and finding Neve."

Then, some details on a part that was cut out of the public gameplay video:

"[Neve] informs us that Solas has a hideout beneath a nearby statue, and lo and behold, it is Solas' hideout. He has painted murals around it, magic is used uniquely even by Tevinter standards, and at the end awaits a beautiful Eluvian"

Demon lore:

"This Pride Demon looks very different from others in the franchise. However, Epler was quick to note how Demons are magical manifestations of emotion from the Fade, which means certain triggers could be causing this."

Snippet on CC:

"Many fans were subject to the horror of DA Inquition's special green light, so BioWare made it where players could shuffle through a handful of backgrounds to see how their character looks in different lights. Body sliders for fully customizable bodies, other appearance changes like tattoos, and everything fans would expect from a modern Dragon Age character creator seemed to be there."

A bit of info on what the 3 specs for Rogue entail: Saboteur is trap-focused, Veil Ranger is ranged focused, and Duelist is a movement-focused class which centers a lot on dodges and parries.

Rook always shares a background with 1 of the companions. Makes sense, the backgrounds are Wardens, Crows, Shadow Dragons, Mourn Watch, Veil Jumpers, Lords of Fortune, and that's Davrin, Lucanis, Neve, Emmrich, Bellara, Taash respectively

Rogues can use both their bow and dual-wield daggers in combat, which is a first for the franchise

There are 3 shortcuts for abilities, you can access more though by opening the ability wheel where there is 9 mapping slots

Of the 3 class' special resource bar, rogues' Momentum fills quickest but takes bigger drains when hit

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #solas

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ms-demeanor · 3 months

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When I'm reccing linux to non-linux users, part of the reason that I say "install it on an old computer" is that one of the things that people worry about when experimenting with new operating systems is that they'll break the computer beyond repair. Which isn't *likely*, but which is a non-issue when you're talking about a computer that was otherwise just going to be discarded.

I'm leery of recommending dual-booting or booting from a thumb drive to absolute newbies because they're hesitant to experiment on their daily-use computers (with good reason! They've been told not to click on things they don't understand and not to get out of their depth their whole lives so it's very difficult to try to suppress those instincts on the computer you use for school, even if it isn't the operating system you use for school).

So putting it on an old computer is like a free pass to computer class. You can't break what was already broken, so they feel more free to try different stuff.

And, like, I totally get where people are coming from when they say to run a VM, but I'm largely talking about users who aren't aware that they can have multiple profiles on their computer, or who have trouble switching between profiles on a shared computer.

I also see people saying "installing linux isn't any harder than installing windows" and A) that's going to depend on a LOT of variables and B) I don't know if you know this but the reason that most people don't buy bare metal PCs is because they don't actually know how to install an operating system. There are a ton of people in the world who I'd trust to assemble a gaming rig physically but who I think would really struggle with getting it to go from a mass of connected parts in a case to a computer that is running software.

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ak-vintage · 3 months

Text

Sweet As

Pairing: Francisco Morales/f! babysitter reader

Summary: Frankie comes home after a long day at work and learns how you have been keeping cool in the midst of a heat wave.

Prompt: Frankie Morales x Grapes

Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI, 6 years post-Triple Frontier, single dad Frankie, flight instructor Frankie, babysitter reader, dual POV, age gap (not specified, but reader is a grad student), minimal descriptors of reader character, no use of y/n, domestic, sweet, mutual pining, food as foreplay, frottage, pussy pronouns, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f! receiving), trying to keep quiet, trying not to get caught, undefined but hopeful ending

Word Count: 7.5K

Written for the @happypedrohours Charcuterie Board Challenge.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

Read on AO3

You had always been a summer girl, but even you had your limits.

It was week three of the most severe heatwave the south had seen in a decade, and even with the Morales’s air conditioner running at full capacity, you still couldn’t help but park yourself directly under the ceiling fan with a sweating glass of iced tea. Mila, thankfully, hadn’t fought you during bedtime tonight, the six-year-old nearly dead on her feet after a full day of summer activities – a bike ride around the block before the heat of the day had set in, a dance party after lunch, hours in her swimsuit weaving in and out of the sprinkler in the back yard. You had done your best to keep up with her sunscreen, but she still sported a little flush on her round, tan cheeks as she crawled into bed, making little snuffling snores before you had even finished telling her goodnight.

There was a part of you that envied it, the way she could just collapse into sleep, not a care in the world, while you were stuck at the kitchen table late into the night, your laptop and textbooks strewn across its surface. The perils of holding down a full-time babysitting gig while also taking summer classes, you supposed.

It was worth it, though. Mila was a sweet girl, a total social butterfly, full of giggles and sweetness, easily the most fun kid you had ever cared for. And Frankie, her father…

Mr. Morales, you reminded yourself with a quick shake of your head.

Mr. Morales was a dream to work for. Respectful, pleasant, communicative, fair. A great parent to his daughter – a single dad, the only one in your regular client rotation. He paid you well for your time, and he was generous with his recreation budget, always making sure to leave cash in the top kitchen drawer for ice cream treats, trips to the pool, matinee movies. You really couldn’t have asked for a better job for the summer.

It didn’t hurt that he was absurdly handsome, in a rugged, lived-in sort of way. Not that it mattered, of course; he was your boss, more than a decade your senior, and you were, above all else, a professional. Hitting on the kids’ dads? The biggest babysitting faux pas. You liked to think you had more class than that.

However, class or not, you were still just a woman, and Francisco Morales? He was all man.

A blue-collar, ex-military guy in his mid-forties, he was tall and impossibly broad in the shoulders with long, muscular arms, a soft tummy that peaked out over the waistband of his jeans, and a head full of dark brown curls that were constantly just a little squished by a dark, well-worn ballcap bearing the Standard Oil logo. He started out a bit reserved in the beginning, not at all unfriendly but certainly someone who took some time to open up to new people, but in the months since you had started working for him, the two of you had developed a comfortable rapport.

So, if you dragged yourself out of bed an hour early just so you could get to his house in time enough to share a cup of coffee with him before he left for work, well…that was just relationship building with a client, wasn’t it? If you found yourself lingering in the driveway every time he walked you out to your car at the end of the day, extending the conversation more and more, delaying your departure as long as you could manage, that was just…friendship, right? Comradery.

And if, on nights like tonight, you received a series of clunky, unpunctuated texts asking you to stay late on short notice and you agreed without question, that was just going above and beyond. That was you being a good employee.

It definitely wasn’t you genuinely wanting to help out the struggling single father, not because you were being paid to do so, but because he deserved it. And you definitely didn’t take a deep, personal satisfaction in knowing that he trusted you, knowing that he relied on you.

It was all above board. All friendly. All completely and totally normal.

These were the things you told yourself, anyway. It helped you to keep your traitorous heart in check.

It was nearing 10:00 PM by the time Frankie finally pulled into his driveway, his eyelids heavy, his limbs leaden and slicked with sweat. One of the ‘copters at the flight school where he worked had required some major repairs after a clumsy takeoff by one of the students earlier that afternoon had resulted in damage to the rotor blades, and he had volunteered to stay behind after hours and help with the effort so the thing wouldn’t have to spend the entire next day grounded. He was an instructor these days, but his assistance had still been welcomed. In the years he had spent attempting to earn back his pilot’s license after his…indiscretions, he had spent a fair amount of time working as an aviation mechanic to make ends meet.

Even then, at the lowest point of his life, he hadn’t been able to keep himself away from a hangar.

It had been back-breaking work, and Frankie hated having to ask you to stay late when he knew you had your own life, your own friends, your own dreams outside of babysitting his kid, but the repairs were complete now, which meant that none of the instructors would need to cancel any of their lessons for the following day. And when the flight school’s students were, more often than not, rich old men and their trust fund sons who didn’t take well to being told “no,” the extra effort would not go unnoticed.

Now, however, as he shifted his pickup truck into park next to your beat-up old Ford Focus, all he could think about was getting into the air conditioning, taking off his boots, and sitting down at the kitchen table under the ceiling fan with you.

It was the only advantage, really, of these late nights. Infrequent though they were, Frankie couldn’t deny that there was something special about coming home to find his daughter tucked up in bed, happy and tired and well-fed, and you at the table with your schoolwork strewn out in front of you. There was something peaceful and almost painfully domestic about it, something that had his chest swelling with a feeling that he couldn’t quite identify but that he knew for certain was not something one was meant to feel for one’s babysitter.

It was the same feeling he got when you started accepting his offers of coffee in the mornings before he left for work, or when you noticed that he had started purchasing the sugary-sweet creamer you preferred when he had only ever drunk his coffee black. It was the same feeling he got when he came home on one of the first nights of this fucking wretched heatwave to find you chasing his daughter around the back yard with an armful of water balloons, the both of you soaked to the skin and giggling as you pelted each other relentlessly.

It was the same feeling he got when he walked you out to your car and he watched you grip the driver’s door handle so tight your knuckles turned pale, watched you glance down at his lips one too many times to be proper. Soft mouth parted, long lashes casting shadows across your sun-kissed cheeks, perfect breasts rising and falling with your quickened breath –

Frankie brought the heels of his hands up to his eyes, pressing hard, scrubbing across his face to banish the thought. He had no business thinking of you like that, noticing you like that, and he needed to get it together before he walked through the front door and found you precisely where he had imagined you. This might have been his home, but it was your place of work, and he refused to be one of those skeevy dads who made the babysitter uncomfortable.

Gathering himself, Frankie hopped down out of the truck and jogged up the front porch steps. Slipping his keyring from his front pocket, he opened the door as quietly as he could manage and kicked his well-worn boots off onto the mat inside the entryway.

Before he could announce his arrival, however, your voice called out to him, hushed and warm.

“Welcome home, Mr. Morales,” you said sweetly, glancing up at him from your favorite chair at his table. He could see you there through the kitchen doorway, hair piled haphazardly on top of your head, eyes tired but soft, happy. You had gotten even more sun today, your cheeks, nose, and forehead tinged with pink, and you wore an oversized T-shirt and a pair of almost sinfully short shorts, the kind with the elastic waist that looked soft to the touch. Frankie tried and failed not to trace the length of your legs with his eyes, not to imagine the plush softness of your thighs, the suppleness of your calves.

Dragging his gaze back up to your face, praying that you hadn’t caught the trajectory of his traitor eyes, he was somewhat surprised to find you studying him, as well. Rather intently, as a matter of fact. He squinted down at himself, puzzled, and noticed for the first time what you must be staring at: he was a mess.

He was smudged with grease from head to toe, dark streaks of the oily substance arcing across his jeans, his uniform polo, his bare forearms, the backs of his hands. His skin, where it was visible, shone with sweat in the dim entryway light, and his shirt clung to his upper body like a second skin from the heat (moisture-wicking fabric, his ass). The weather would have been enough to have him in a state, but the late night combined with the manual labor had clearly taken its toll.

He watched the long column of your throat bob as you swallowed thickly.

“Rough day?” you asked after a beat of tense silence, keeping your voice low so as not to wake Mila.

Frankie felt his lips lift at the corner, offering you a fatigued half-smile. “A bit, yeah. But better now.”

You pressed your mouth into a thin line as though smothering a grin. “Glad to hear it.” Gesturing at the chair opposite you, you added, “Why don’t you come have a seat, and I’ll heat up some leftovers for you? You have to be starving.”

Fuck, now that you mentioned it, he was starving. He and the small crew of mechanics had taken a brief snack break while they worked, partaking of whatever hodgepodge of junk they had been able to liberate from the vending machine in the office, but that bag of chips and stale granola bar had left his system hours ago now. Still, even as his stomach growled with hunger, he couldn’t help but protest, “You don’t need to do that, cariño. It’s not your job to cook for me on top of everything else you do around here.”

You waved his words away with a flippant flick of your wrist, already on your feet and heading for the refrigerator. “I’ve told you, it’s not a problem. I cook anyway for me and Mila. Why wouldn’t I make a little extra for you while I’m at it?” You glanced over your shoulder at him. “Now sit down. I’ve got this.”

As the container of leftover pasta rotated in the pale yellow light of the microwave, you took a moment to gather yourself, to reign in the surge of want that had pulsed through you at the sight of your employer hovering in the entryway.

Miles of golden tan skin shining with sweat, pooling in the little hollow at the base of his neck. His uniform polo unbuttoned as far down as it would go, showing a sliver of gray ribbed undershirt. Grease smudged across one high cheekbone, streaked across his hands. You needed those hands on you, needed him to transfer those dark marks onto your skin, your clothes, to leave a trail across your body so you could remember everywhere he had touched you, so you could see it when you looked in the mirror.

“How was Mila today? She behave herself all right?”

You startled at the sound of his voice, quickly schooling your face into what you hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression before turning back around to face him. “Oh, yeah, she was great. We had a good day today.”

Frankie – Mr. Morales – smiled fondly at that. “Good, that’s good. No more, uh, meltdowns in the afternoon?”

“No, things have been pretty smooth since we started digging through that article I found. ‘30 Activities to Keep Kids Cool in the Summer’ or whatever. It’s been a huge help.” You chuckled wryly. “Once I figured out a way to let her be outside in the afternoons without running the risk of heatstroke, she’s been great.”

“Right, right.” He settled himself in the chair across from yours, running the side of his fingers across his patchy stubble in thought. “That’s what gave you the idea for the water balloons that one day, right?”

The microwave beeped twice, the golden light inside flickering off, and you grabbed the steaming leftover container as you spoke. “Yeah, exactly. And the sprinkler, and turning paint into ice cubes and using it like chalk.” Snagging a fork from the silverware drawer, you handed both to the exhausted man and slid back into your seat.

He tossed you a grateful smile and dug into the meal with gusto, loosing a quiet groan at the first bite. “Shit, that’s good,” he sighed, dark eyes fluttering closed in a way that had your heartrate spiking. “Thank you for this, cariño. You’re a lifesaver.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you fought the urge to reach out and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. “Of course, it’s my pleasure.”

Shoving a few more bites into his mouth, he asked, “Didn’t you freeze her Barbies one day, too?”

“Yeah, I did!” It had been one of Mila’s favorites so far of the heatwave-proof activities you had planned for her, and the memory of it had you chuckling. “I took a couple of her dolls and a bunch of their accessories, put them in a few of those sand buckets you guys have in the garage, filled those with water, and then froze them overnight. It took her hours to dig them all out, but hey. It kept her busy, and she didn’t overheat in the process, so I’ll take it.”

Mr. Morales grinned at that, plucking a napkin from the holder in the center of the table, scrubbing it across his sauce-stained moustache. “Incredible. You know, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the extra effort you’ve been going to with her lately. I know it’s a lot, just looking after her eight hours a day, every day. But with this heat, I know she’s going stir-crazy.” He glanced down at his meal, something almost bashful creeping into his expression. “Pretty sure she gets that from me. Never been real good at sitting still, being stuck indoors.”

“It’s really nothing, Mr. Morales,” you insisted, brushing away the praise with a swipe of your hand.

“No. S’not nothing.” His low voice had gone serious now, and when he glanced back up at you, his eyes were wide, dark, and earnest. “The way you take care of her? The way you always seem to just…know what she needs? That’s everything.” You swore you saw his cheeks darken, swore you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “And I told you. S’okay if you call me Frankie. That Mr. Morales stuff makes me feel old.”

You drew your lower lip between your teeth, gaze flicking down to your hands as the intensity of the eye contact became too much to handle. “If you’re sure,” you agreed after a moment. “I don’t want to…presume.”

“Not presuming,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “We’re…friends, right, cariño? Friends can call each other by their first names.”

Something in your stomach ached at his words, but he sounded so genuine, so hopeful that you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. “Suppose that’s true… Frankie.”

Fucking Christ.

Maybe that hadn’t been the right call, Frankie thought. Maybe he shouldn’t have suggested you call him that, not when your voice sounded so sweet wrapped around his name, not when the hour was so late, the house so silent, like you were the only two people awake in the world. That kind of intimacy, it was going to give him…ideas.

Eager to distract himself from the moment, he plowed onward. “Well, what was the activity today?” he asked, stabbing another selection of pasta and vegetables with his fork.

You appeared to consider the question for a moment before replying, “Actually, it’s more of ‘show’ thing than a ‘tell’ thing, so if you don’t mind holding that thought for a minute, I’ll show you after you’re finished eating.”

Frankie arched an eyebrow at you, intrigued. “Okay, sure. I can wait. Why don’t you tell me what you’re working on then instead? Something for school, I assume?” He gestured at the impressive spread of textbooks, printed articles, and your open laptop taking up most of the surface of the kitchen table.

Immediately, you launched into a detailed explanation of your current project, a research proposal for your graduate program that would serve as the capstone of this session of summer classes. He would freely admit that he only understood bits and pieces of it, his formal education having ended with his high school graduation, but he always enjoyed asking you about your schoolwork. The way you lit up when you talked about the subjects you were passionate about, your animated gestures, your wide, sparkling eyes, all of it was deeply endearing to him. He loved how passionate you were, the way you chased after your goals with fire and focus. It was one of his favorite things about you, and he felt as though that list might be growing longer by the day.

Your monologue about your research proposal gave him the perfect opportunity to finish his meal, so that by the time you had come to the end of your explanation, Frankie was dropping his fork into the now-empty container and leaning back in his chair, pleasantly full and satisfied.

“Oh,” you gasped, seeming to come back to yourself as you took in his relaxed posture, the little smile on his face. “Wow, I really just went on and on there, huh? Sorry about that, I guess I get a little overexcited about my research.”

“Don’t apologize. I like how fired up about it you get, it’s cute.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, a little too honest, a little too real, and Frankie braced himself for the shift in your demeanor that was sure to follow. The awkwardness, the clear discomfort at the too-personal words from your employer. But it never came. Instead, your cheeks darkened under his gaze, a flush spreading down your neck and disappearing into the neckline of your oversized T-shirt.

“You…you think I’m cute?” you stammered, voice a bit breathless in a way that had him shifting in his seat, and he felt a fresh flush of sweat bead up on his forehead, just under the brim of his ballcap, at the sound.

He needed to blow you off, he knew. He needed to make an excuse for the comment, turn it into something mindless, something shallow and impersonal, if he wanted to point this conversation back in the right direction.

“‘Course, cariño,” he said instead. “Who wouldn’t? Might be an old man these days, but I’m not dead yet.”

What was wrong with him?

You blinked back at him for a moment, eyes wide and glossy, lips parted in surprise at the confession, but then you were smiling, something almost…flirtatious in the curve of your lip as you said, “You’re not an old man, Frankie. You’re…experienced.”

Oh, fuck him.

This was a dangerous path the two of you were walking, and in that moment, Frankie wasn’t sure what frightened him more: the eventual destination or the fact that you seemed more than willing to travel it with him.

If he was ever going to make it back to safety, he needed to switch gears. Now.

“How about that activity?” he said quickly. “You gonna show me what you and Mila got up to all day?”

Drawing back from where you had started to lean toward him across the table, you shook your head a bit, as though the question had brought you back to yourself. He watched as the softness and the want in your eyes dissipated, and though he mourned it, he knew it was for the best. The two of you had come too close to crossing that line tonight. You both needed to regain your footing a bit.

“Sure. Actually, it should make for a good dessert.” Getting to your feet once more, you crossed to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door, pulling three medium-sized plastic containers from its depths. The clear plastic fogged up the moment it hit the outside air, obscuring their contents, but Frankie didn’t have to wait for long to see what was inside. A moment later, you spread the three containers out on the kitchen table in front of him and began removing their lids.

Inside the containers was a selection of perfectly chopped, completely frozen fruit. The two of you had clearly used some creatively-shaped cutters to prepare the fruit, as some of the chunks were shaped like little hearts, others looked like tiny stars, and still others looked as though a cutter in the shape of a bunny head had been used. One container held little hunks of bright red watermelon in a full assortment of unique shapes, another boasted chunks of pineapple, also uniquely prepared, and in the last container, a medley of green and red grapes had been halved down the center for easy eating.

“What tastes better on a hot day than fresh fruit?” you asked cheerily. “We cut it up together out on the patio first thing this morning so it would have time to freeze. Mila wanted me to tell you that she did the watermelon because it’s pink and that’s her favorite.”

Frankie glanced up at you, meeting your eyes over the frosty containers. “That sounds about right,” he chuckled.

“I ended up having to hose down the concrete by the time we were done, but it made a great snack when it got miserable out. She was going back and forth between the sprinkler and her bowl on the patio all afternoon.”

He grinned at the image you painted, thinking of his little girl in her pink bathing suit, wild brown ringlets wet and clinging to her scalp, grass sticking to her feet as she danced through the spray of the sprinkler, darting back to grab a hunk of watermelon or a frozen grape, the juice dripping from her little fingers.

“Help yourself,” you encouraged, sitting back down across from him. “I’ll have some with you.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Shouldn’t I…grab us some forks?”

You shrugged, that fucking grin making its way back onto your face. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

And with that, you fluttered your fingertips over the container of frozen grapes, plucked one from the pile, and slipped it into your mouth with a satisfied sigh. You might have started chatting then, might have begun asking him if he had any fun plans for the upcoming weekend and offered a summary of yours in return, but Frankie hardly heard a word of it. He was too preoccupied with your…snacking.

The plushness of your lips, the little peek of your slick, pink tongue each time you opened them, the way you seemed to allow the fruit to linger in your mouth as it defrosted. Heart-shaped watermelon had pale pink juice spilling out of the corner of your mouth, making it halfway down your chin before you delicately swiped it away with the tip of your middle finger. A pineapple star had you smiling softly as you enjoyed the burst of tartness over your tastebuds.

And those grapes.

Those goddamn fucking grapes, with their slick, frosty skin and their subtle, gentle sweetness – those you softly, almost absently traced over the seam of your lips before slipping them inside. Like you were savoring the sensation unconsciously, like the cool wetness of them quenched something in you that you weren’t even aware required attention. They made your mouth glisten in the low light, the shine of it so tempting he was certain that he hadn’t looked away from it in several minutes now.

In the back of his mind, he knew he needed to get ahold of himself. There was no way you hadn’t noticed; he had to be making you uncomfortable by now. But he just…couldn’t. God, you looked good enough to eat, with your messy hair and your sun-pinked cheeks and your bright eyes and your soft, bare legs.

A droplet of sweat traveled down the side of his face, streaking down his temple, his jaw, his neck.

Your mouth looked cool, and it looked sweet.

“…Frankie?”

Frankie startled at the sound of his name on your tongue, and his gaze snapped back up to your eyes instantly, a wicked flush blazing up the back of his neck and over his skull in mortification. Shit, you had noticed him staring, this was such a major fuck-up –

“Hm? What’s that, cariño?” His voice came out weak and raspy, like his throat had gone dry, and he cleared it loudly.

“I was saying, you don’t want any of the fruit?” You looked him over with wide, innocent eyes, and for the first time, Frankie realized that he hadn’t taken a single bite.

“Uh. A-Actually, I think I might be too full at the moment,” he stammered, bringing a hand up to pat himself across the belly in excuse.

The little confused quirk of your head told him immediately that you didn’t believe him. Scooting your chair across the hardwood floor, you came to sit directly next to him and gently scolded, “Frankie, you’ve been out working in this heat all night. You need to rehydrate. Here, you have room for a few pieces. Open up, okay?”

One of those slick, dewy grape halves appeared between your thumb and forefinger then, and the next thing he knew, you were holding it out to him. Not to take with his own hand, but to eat. It was a mere hairsbreadth away from his mouth.

Unable to formulate a suitable protest, his brain suddenly feeling rather detached from his body, all Frankie could do was drop his jaw and allow you to slip the fruit inside.

The pads of your fingers touched the soft, sensitive skin of his lower lip, and that was when he was certain that not only had his brain seemingly walked away on its own, it had turned fully off. That was the only explanation he could come up with for why the moment he registered the delicate touch, he immediately seized your wrist in one of his fists, dragging your fingers fully into his mouth.

A loud, feminine gasp met his ears as he swiped his tongue between your fingertips, stealing the frozen fruit from your grasp, pressing it firmly against the roof of his mouth to squash it, and quickly swallowing it down. His tongue returned to your skin, lapping at the frost and the condensation and the delicate, sweet juices coating your fingertips, and he watched as your eyes glazed over at the sensation. Your wrist went limp in his grasp, your fingers pliant, never once attempting to withdraw, and the ball of heat that had been brewing in his gut all night suddenly reached a fever pitch as he realized that you liked this.

Cock twitching in his jeans, he drew your fingers from his mouth. Both his eyes and yours followed the fine trail of saliva that stretched from his lip to the tip of your index finger, and he heard your swallow heavily at the sight.

“Frankie,” you whispered weakly.

And then his restraint abandoned him just as his mind had, and before he could think better of it, his hands were cupping your face and dragging you bodily to meet him in a hard, messy kiss.

Francisco Morales kissed like he did everything else – with intention, with competence, and with a raw, simmering fire that lingered just below the surface just waiting to be unveiled. To be stoked. To be nurtured.

The presence of that fire had your squirming in your seat, had your neck bending back on your shoulders in submission to the intensity of his assault. His thumbs, long and thick, pressed into your jaw from either side, wrenching you open, and his tongue slipped inside, immediately seeking your own with a desperation that drew a soft, muffled moan from your throat. Your own hands flew to the sweat-damp collar of his polo, and you dug your fingers into the fabric, holding him, keeping him just as fiercely as he kept you. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, pulsed between your thighs, growing sensitive and tender there when wetness bloomed.

With a low, rasping groan, Frankie broke the kiss and began tracing his prominent nose across your cheek, along the edge of your jaw, down your bare neck.

“You taste so fucking sweet, querida. Cold and…delicious and…perfect.”

Punctuating his words with hot, open-mouthed kisses across your skin, his voice rough and raw and sounding like the confession had been dragged from his chest against his will, it was enough to have sweat breaking out on the back of your neck, behind your knees, at the base of your spine.

“Frankie,” you breathed, threading your grip into his hair, curling his dark brown locks around your fingers, scraping along his scalp. “Please – ”

His hands dropped from your jaw then, sweeping around the width of your hips and hauling you into his lap. Instinctually, your thighs spread to bracket his waist, the weight of you coming to rest on his spread-legged lap, and you couldn’t help but moan at the thick, hard press of him against the softness of your cunt.

“This okay, baby?” he murmured against your skin, nuzzling against the neckline of your shirt, broad palms dragging down over your ass to hold you down, press you to him.

You whimpered and felt your body going soft, warm, and pliant beneath his touch. “Mm hm!” Hips hitching, grinding against him of their own accord, you pulled his face back up to meet yours, smothering your own gasps and whines in his mouth.

It didn’t last long, however. After a few quick licks against your tongue, Frankie pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours and knocking his Standard Oil cap to the floor.

“Uh uh, need to hear the words, cariño. Won’t do anything you don’t want me doing.” Wrapping his fingers around your messy bun, he angled your face down so that your heavy-lidded eyes met his. “I’ll ask you again. You want me touching you? You want me to make you feel good?”

Your eyes drifted shut, your mind gone warm and hazy. God, the things this man did to you. Did he know how long you had wanted this? How hard you had fought against it? He couldn’t know. If he did, he would never ask such a question.

“Yes, please, Frankie,” you gasped, nodding against his hold, brushing the tip of your nose against his.

“Yes, please, what, bebita?” You could hear a smirk in his voice now, and the sound had you flushing down to the tips of your toes, a fresh rush of wetness soaking your panties as you squirmed against him.

Tucking your face against his sweaty neck, you whispered, “Please…please make me feel good.”

Frankie was on his feet in an instant, boosting you into his arms in a move that had your stomach dropping down through your abdomen both in shock and in arousal. He backed you into the table, your hips bumping into the wooden edge, and the snap of pain had a brief flash of clarity flying through your lust-filled brain fog.

“Frankie, my books – ”

The older man swore under his breath – “fuck, right” – before changing course, bringing you instead over to the arm of the peninsula that extended out into the room from the edge of the kitchen. Kicking one of the two barstools out of the way, he dropped you unceremoniously onto the countertop before dragging you down for another kiss.

He ate at your mouth like a man starved, sucking on your lips, dragging his teeth across your skin, licking against the roof of your mouth. It was wet, sloppy, and so hot, his desperation contagious, encouraging you to match him caress for caress. No one had ever kissed you like this, like the kissing was the main event rather than a means to an end. Frankie kissed like that was the entire point, and it had you melting against the counter. You were dripping through your shorts now, you were sure of it.

“Can taste all that fruit on your tongue. Sweetest thing I ever tasted,” he growled, keeping his voice low. “But I can think of at least one other thing that might be even sweeter.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Your boss was going to eat you out on his kitchen counter.

“Lean back, bebita.” The words were spoken against your cheeks, brushed into your skin by the suddenly tender touch of his lips, the rasp of his whiskers, the press of his chin. “Let me take care of you.”

You did as he asked, releasing your hold on his broad shoulders and sinking back onto your elbows. The granite was cool to the touch, sending goosebumps along your arms and down your spine, but the sensation was a welcome one after the oppressive heat of the day, the heat of his body on yours.

His palms snaked beneath the hem of your T-shirt, bunching it up onto your belly to reveal the waistband of your shorts. Hooking his thumbs into the elastic without preamble, he murmured, “Lift your hips a bit for me, baby.” Again, you obeyed without question, and with a few short tugs, Frankie pulled both your shorts and your slick-stained panties down your legs to drop to the hardwood floor.

You felt a fierce blush flare in your cheeks, spreading down your neck and chest with a speed that had you gasping for air. The ceiling fan over the kitchen table – you could feel its breeze from here, the cool rush of air instantly pulling a shiver from you as it hit your wet, swollen pussy. You kept yourself bare in the summer, finding it easier and less stressful whenever you wanted to wear a swimsuit, and laid out like this on display, thighs spread around Frankie’s broad body, the cold fan hitting your most vulnerable skin, you couldn’t help but feel a bit…overexposed. The reality of your situation hit you like a freight train, and you found yourself fighting the urge to snap your legs closed against the eyes of your boss.

It was as though Frankie could read your mind. Not a moment after the thought occurred to you, you felt his big hands clamp onto your thighs and pull them apart even wider.

“Don’t you dare try to hide from me. She’s so fucking beautiful,” he tutted, and you risked a glance at his face only to find him staring intently down at your cunt. “You been walking around my house with a naked pussy like this all summer, baby? Dirty girl.” His dark brown eyes had gone almost black with lust, his irises only a faint ring around his wide pupils, and in a gesture that seemed entirely unconscious, he darted the tip of his tongue out to wet his bottom lip. He looked utterly fascinated. Entranced. Hungry. The sight had your walls clenching around nothing, and you watched him watch that happen with an eagerness that had you moaning aloud.

When he spoke again, he was a man in thrall. “‘M gonna eat this pretty pussy now, querida. Gotta be quiet for me, okay? Don’t wanna wake Mila.”

You nodded, bringing one of your hands up to cover your mouth preemptively. This man was going to have you screaming, you just knew it. Flicking his gaze up to yours for just a moment, he grinned wickedly at the sight.

“That’s a good girl, baby,” he whispered, and then his face was in your cunt, and you felt your every coherent thought fly out the window.

If Frankie had thought that your mouth tasted sweet, your tongue like candy, then your pussy was fruit on the vine, straight from the vineyard, drenched in sunshine. It was hot, deep, and rich, earthy and tangy and drugging, like a late summer afternoon, like a hazy day in August. This had always been one of his favorite things to do with women, one of his favorite ways to please them, and never – not once – had it ever been like this. From the moment his tongue touched your delicate, dripping folds, he knew – there would be no going back from this. Not for him. He couldn’t experience something like this and not crave it every day for the rest of his life.

He started with soft, light strokes with tip of his tongue, tracing just the very edges of your lips from down near your entrance all the way to the top of your mound. Then again, slowly pressing deeper but never with any more than the faintest pressure. Even so, you responded instantly, a panting, high-pitched whine sounding behind the press of your palm over your mouth. Your hips bucked against his mouth, trying to increase the pressure, to draw him further into you, but he had one of his arms bracketing the span of your hips before you could make much progress.

Driving you firmly into the countertop, he held your knees open with the breadth of his shoulders and boldly dragged the flat of his tongue through your folds. “Keep quiet, now, bebita. I’m gonna take care of you.”

With that, Frankie felt himself begin to disappear, to melt into you from his position between your legs. Your soft thighs bracketing his shoulders, your heels digging into his back, your pussy, so soft, so hot, so sweet as you dissolved beneath his tongue. You were drooling for him, your clenching, grasping hole fluttering against his tongue every time he passed over it, your clit swollen and throbbing under the suction of his lips. You had collapsed back against the countertop now, one hand still pressed firmly over your mouth, the other burying itself in his hair, anchoring him to your body with a strength he found both surprising and wildly attractive. And with every lick, every suck, every vibration of a moan that spilled from his mouth into your flesh, he could feel you drawing higher, tighter, deeper.

He knew what you needed. He knew what would get you there.

Tucking his free hand beneath his chin, Frankie slipped one, then two thick fingers into the tight, velvety clutch of your cunt.

You shot up off the counter, your torso curling around his head, your hand in his hair fisting the strands roughly in your overwhelm. Sharp bolts of pain erupted across his scalp, but it was a welcome sensation, somehow grounding in its intensity. He smirked against your folds, sealing his lips around your puffy clit and rolling the little nub around with his tongue. At the same time, he pressed gently, insistently against the front wall of your cunt, applying steady friction and pressure with both fingertips.

A faint whimper slipped from you at that, muffled by your palm but not silent, and Frankie felt himself preen. God, he loved this. It wouldn’t be long now.

“You gonna come for me? Gonna let me feel her gush around my fingers? On my tongue? Hm?”

The hand on your mouth fell away, joining the one in his hair as you began to tremble beneath him. “Frankie,” you whined. “‘M gonna – you’re gonna make me – ”

“I know, baby, I know.” He kept his fingers right where they were, shallow thrusts, firm pressure right where you needed it most. “Just let it happen. I’ve got you.” Ducking his head back down to your clit, he resumed the combination of gentle suction and firm, long strokes that had driven you wild.

And just like clockwork, your thighs began to shake against his shoulders. Your abdomen clenched beneath his forearm. Your slick, soft walls clamped down around his fingers. A weak, breathless sound – “ah” – burst from your throat, and then you were coming. A rush of your wetness dripped down his fingers, coating his hand, pooling in the cup of his palm as you pulsed and fluttered around him, and Frankie could feel your poor, abused little clit twitching against his tongue. He worked you through it, slowing down a bit but not stopping, prolonging the torment just a bit longer. Only when your two hands buried in his hair started to shove against him, pushing him away, did he relent, and even then, it took him an extra few seconds to be willing to slip his fingers from your body.

Looking up into your face, Frankie felt a wash of joy and contentment pass over him. You were positively glowing – your skin flushed and ever-so-slightly sweaty, your hair wild and mussed, your T-shirt bunched up above your belly button, so much of your perfect softness on display. And you were grinning like a fool, your eyes showing your fatigue but your smile brighter than he had ever seen. You looked at him with a gentleness, an affection that had his heart clenching in his chest, and he was certain that his expression was much the same.

It had been years since he had felt this way about anyone, and even then, he wasn’t certain it could compare.

When you sat up and slipped from the counter, it was a slow and lazy affair, assisted by his firm grip and his steady arms to help keep you upright. The moment your feet hit the floor, you reached for his belt with a question in your eyes, to which Frankie responded, “Not tonight, querida. Tonight was about you.” You seemed somewhat disappointed by that response, but you didn’t push it. Instead, you simply pulled his head down for a kiss, which he gladly obliged. You sighed into his mouth at the taste of yourself on his tongue, and it took every ounce of strength he had in him not to take back what he had just said, to drag your hands back down to his belt buckle and allow you to proceed as you wished.

But no.

It was late. You needed to get home and get to sleep, and he needed to wash off the heat of the day before passing out in his own bed. There would be a little girl busting down his door at 7:00 AM tomorrow whether he was ready for her or not, and you would be back in this very kitchen by 8:00 eager to share a cup of coffee with too-sweet creamer before he left for work.

So, like the gentleman that he wasn’t certain that he was, Frankie helped you slip back into your little shorts, pack your overflowing bookbag, and carry your things out to your car.

You turned to him one last time before you slipped into the driver’s seat, a soft if uncertain smile playing at the corners of your lips. “Mr. Morales – Frankie, I…” You drew your lower lip between your teeth. “Thank you. For tonight.”

His heart melted at your words, the quiet, hesitating way you said them. It was a vulnerability he wasn’t accustomed to from you, you who always seemed to have it all together, you who matched his advances beat for beat, never wavering. “Don’t need to thank me, baby. I wanted to. You take such good care of me, of Mila. You deserved it.” Releasing a deep, trembling breath, he added, “And…I’d like to do it again sometime. If you’ll let me.”

“That depends,” you replied.

“Yeah? On what?”

Your soft, sweet smile morphed into something sharper then, something with more intent. “On if you’ll let me return the favor. It’s like you said…I want to.”

Frankie couldn’t have reigned in the grin that split his face then if he tried. Dropping a kiss to your forehead, he said, “‘Course, cariño. I’m not done with your sweetness just yet.”

#happypedrohours #happy pedro hours #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales x f!reader #francisco catfish morales #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier smut #frankie morales smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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avengersassemble123 · 9 months

Text

Just Not this time..

Pairing: Ran Haitani x reader

genre: Pure angst, like literal pure sadness and angst at the end, not a good ending ig?

warning: Cursing, sex talk in between but hardly few lines. ANGST, heartbreak, tragic.

P.S: Surprisingly the longest fic i have ever written, i mean im surprised myself you know, but hope yall enjoy it!!

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"Ran can you please listen to me just this once??"

You yelled as Ran continued fiddling with things in the kitchen, ignoring you.

You were yet in another argument with Ran regarding his activities surrounding tenjiku and some 'revival of the s-62 generation'. You were obviously aware about his status in Roppongi alongside his brother and his delinquent activities, but for the past few months, he and his brother were obsessing over some 'tenjiku' and 'izana', which you had a bad feeling about, as you tried to convince your boyfriend to back out of this just this once.

You had met Ran when you were both in high school. You were a pretty decent kid with great scores and was a part of the student council, while Ran and Rindou were obviously infamous for their 'activities', hardly attending any classes.

One day, you had arrived in the school as usual, greeting your friends, when you noticed the dual colored braided man, making you realise that he did in fact exist and was your classmate. Not your fault that he hardly appeared in front of you, making you almost forget he was in fact a person. He was sat on a chair, his legs over the table, crossed, as a person in glasses, who you assumed was his brother had pulled a nearby chair and sat next to him chatting.

"Damn I forgot they even existed.." You murmured towards your friends, as they giggled, gossiping about those two, while you joined in on their bitching. Soon as the teacher arrived, you all went to your assigned seats, as you saw the glasses guy leave the room, while the braided guy lazily stood up and greeted, a blank disinterested stare present in his face. As you were preparing for a lesson, your teacher called out, "(Name), since Haitani san has attended his class after a long period of time, could you maybe share your notes to him?"

You looked up at your teacher in confusion, as your gaze flickered towards the braided boy for a second as you saw him roll his eyes, before his gaze landed on you. You awkwardly pursed your lips, as you then looked at your teacher, "Sure Sensei, i don't mind."

The day went normal as usual, before the bell rung, indicating it was time for recess, as students scrambled outside the door, you closed your book, greeting your teacher back, before remembering you had to give your notes to your classmate. As you turned around, you saw Ran removing a messily packed up lunch in a packet, his eyes droopy, as if he had just woken up from a slumber, as you walked towards him. "Here" You say, as you held out the notes in front of him. He first glanced at the notes and then at you in a displeased blank expression, before his gaze returning towards the notes and then to his food, as he lazily munched.

"No thanks. I'm good." Ran said, ignoring you, as he flopped his legs on the table as his hand held his lunch, "I ain't interested."

"You sure? Cuz Sensei asked me-" "Listen, i don't give a damn about this nor about you, so why don't you go back and leave me alone?"

Your eye twitched, as irritaion started building up inside me, as you stared at him bemused. What a jackass. "Jeez.. So much for trying to help out..." you say as you roll your eyes, turning around, as you walked towards your bench, slamming your bag upon the bench before putting your notes in, as your best friend tried to calm me down.

"The fuck does he think he is? Prime Minister of Japan?" you angrily murmured, as your friends tried to calm you down.

What you didn't realise was that your classmate had heard it, as he raised his eyebrows amused, before casually walking towards you, "Awww did i make Ms.Nerdy Pants upset?" He taunted, a mocking smile on his face, while you clenched your fist, your eyebrows raised at his audacity, "How about Mr. Hoshposh mind his own buisness since he doesnt need anybody's help and thinks he's better than everyone." you retorted, making the former chuckle.

"I don't think you know me that well miss."

"Not my fault you hardly attend classes, making me forget you actually existed."

By now, the whole class was watching, whispers and murmurs exchanged , as your friend held you back by holding your arm.

"Oh yeah? How about you ask your friends who exactly I am. Maybe you'll figure out and something will go inside that small brain of yours." Ran said, leaning towards you, slightly bending as you were way shorter than he was, your head reaching his shoulders, him towering over you.

You did know who he was. Who in their right minds would not know the delinquent kings of Roppongi. But you were raised to not take shit from anyone unnecessarily, no matter who it was. Honestly, you were kind of intimidated, due to his stature and reputation, but you did muster up courage, as you took a deep breath, calming yourself down as to not act irrationally, before speaking up.

"I do know who you are, but that doesn't mean you can talk to me like that. You need to keep your attitude in check." Everyone murmured, as some of your friends gasped, while your best friend tugged at you to stop. Ran raised his brow, as he looked at you head to toe, before his one hand rested on his hip, his smile not leaving his face, "I need to keep my attitude in check? How about you mind that attitude of yours in front of me? or do you want me to help you with that?"

"Just cuz you're some delinquent, doesn't mean you'll scare me as well. I give whatever I recieve. You talk to me nicely and i return the favor. Simple as that. Or do you want me to write this in written and give it to you in notes as well?"

At this point, your best friend was just pulling you to the other side of the earth, while you realised that you might've fucked up a bit by the sass at the end and that now the goddamn Haitanis are gonna be out for your blood. But you still stood your ground. Might as well finish it if it has been started.

Ran now looked at you, his smile not present, as he tilted his head, silently staring at you, before straightening up, as he started twirling one of his braids with one hand, while the other rested on his hip, before giving you a closed eye smile, "Guess I do have to change that attitude of yours."

Yep, you're in deep shit.

Just then, the glasses guy from earlier came in the class, before looking at the braided guy and walking towards him, his eyebrow raised in slight confusion, his face in a blank stare, as he walked towards the braided guy, "What's going on here Aniki? Who's this chick?" He asked as he looked between you both questioningly.

"Nothing Rindou." Ran said, his close eyed smile returning, as he turned around and started walking, Rindou following him casually, "Just someone who needs to know their place."

The fuck?

You were goddamn pissed but you knew if you went any further, you might as well get murdered now, since you already signed your death warrant by messing with him.

As the school got over, you were walking back home. It was an everyday routine as usual, nothing out of the ordinary, before you felt the hair on your arm stand up, goosebumps wrecking your body, as you felt like you were being followed. You slightly turned your head back to glance slightly, spotting a suspicious man walking behind you at quite a distance. You then started walking faster, trying to dial up your friend's number in your Nokia phone, but apparently luck did not like favoring you. You purposely took turns, which confirmed your suspicions as the man took the same turns as well, making you walk faster, as you mentally prepared to defend yourself, trying to figure out ways to fight back since you didn't have anything on you except for your schoolbag.

After a while you realised that there was no one around you, making you panic as you turned around only to find the man closing up on you, suddenly starting to run, making you run as well, as you cursed.

You ran, trying to outrun him, but he unfortunately was faster, as he caught up with you before pulling you by your hand and covering your mouth. He seemed to be around 20s, wearing a discrete hoodie, as he tried making you still, while you violently tried breaking free from him. You kicked him hard in the nuts, making his grip falter from you, as you broke free and punched his face before making a run for it. As you ran, you realised he was chasing you.

You were running among the streets before hearing some noises, enlightening some glimmer of hope within you, as you desperately tried running towards the source. Soon you spotted an old small rundown shop alongside a few figures standing beside it, making you run towards them for help. As you inched closer, the more your heart fell out of your ass, as you realised that it was none other than the Haitani brothers standing there and hanging out, as Ran was sitting sideways on his bike, facing Rindou who was sat straight on another bike, but his whole body leaning against it.

You were stuck in both the cases, but you'd rather face them than being stuck with that creep, as you ran towards them.

Ran noticed some hurried footsteps approaching them, as he looked towards the source, his impassive expression covered in confusion as he realised it was you, the chick earlier from the day, trying to test him. Rindou looked towards where Ran was looking, mirroring Ran's expression.

As you neared towards them, you slid an arm under Ran's, as you smiled widely as fake as possible, "OH MY GOD BABE HELP ME!"

Both the brothers raised their eyebrows questioningly. Ran for a second thought if you were one of those girls who crave for his attention, when he noticed you gesturing him with your eyes with the most widest, most fake grin he had seen in a while, towards a man standing just few inches from them, still in fear.

"Babe, this man has been chasing me. He just wouldn't stop following me." You said, holding his arm tightly, gesturing him to please, for the love of god, go along with your facade, Ran figured out in few seconds what was going on as soon as he laid his eyes on the man, but he looked at you amusingly, as you widened your eyes, pleading him to just go along with it, making him smirk at you.

On seeing his smirk, you had thought that now you're just fucked and that he's gonna hand you over to that creep in a silver platter, before being surprised, as you saw Ran's smirk drop into a cold frown as his gaze turned from you towards the man.

The man who was quivering in fear, had now fallen to his knees as begged for mercy, while you stood there shocked at the behaviour.

"The fuck am i hearing? You chasing my girlfriend?" Ran said coldly, making shivers pass down your spine as well, as you realised why he was the king of Roppongi, and one of the notorious delinquents in Tokyo.

"IM SORRY BOSS I DIDNT KNOW SHE WAS YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!" The man yelled, whimpering, as your mouth went agape at his pathetic state.

"Can you believe this man's audacity to go after my girlfriend of all the things? Mine?"

"He's got some nerve Aniki. He should be taught a lesson." Rindou joined in, as he straightened up, still sitting on his bike as he now turned and watched the scene in amusement.

"Hey Baby." Ran said, facing towards you, catching you off guard, as you looked at him confused, "Ye-yea?" You felt his arms snake around you, making you give him a strained smile. This asshole. But you went along with it.

"How do you wanna punish him? Do you want me to make it quick or slow and torturous? Your wish is my command."

Your eyes widened at his question as you glanced between the men, but again creeps like this should be beaten to hell. "Anyhow you wanna make it babe, just make sure to give him hell."

Ran smirked, before removing his hold from you and walking towards him, removing something from his pocket, before extending it. You looked confused before realising it was a whole ass baton.

Ran started beating the shit out of the creep, as you stood by the side, watching in horror, while Rindou chuckled, amused at the scene. You did feel immense satisfaction at watching the creep getting beaten up, but even you had limits, as you at times shielded your eyes. After a whole session of getting beaten up, Ran asked the creep to fuck off, making him scramble away in terror.

Ran casually walked towards you, as he wiped the blood off his baton with a part of his shirt, while you stood mouth agape, before realising you were alone with them, making you stand further from them.

"Uhh thanks for the help. Appreciate it a lot honestly but i gotta go now."

"Aww doll, are you gonna run away from me, your boyfriend?"

I gritted my teeth, as i gave him a taunting smile, to which he returned the same, "That's enough. I appreciate your help very much, but can we not discuss this further."

"Aww but babe we just met after a long day, and you're one feisty one you know, seeing that you hit the man straight in the part where the sun doesn't shine."

My eyes widened as Ran smirked, "What? Didn't think I'd notice that man limping when you came right in my arms?"

"But again I do have a thing for feisty ones you know?" Ran said, making you have a look of disgust, before walking away blankly.

The next day, when you came to school, you were surprised to see Ran in your class, as he noticed you walking in, making him give you a closed eye smile, as he waved at you, "Awww here you are (NAME), nice to see you today."

You looked at him confused and irritated, as your friends gave you questioning glances.

Soon, almost everyday, you were pestered by the older Haitani in the school, whether its in the recess, or asking for some notes, or poking you with his pencil or throwing balls of paper at you in the middle of the class, making you lecture him outside after school. It soon led to him starting to pester you while walking home as well, as you tried to tell him to buzz of or to leave you alone, but failing miserably.

After school, you were sitting in your classroom, doing your work, when you noticed someone open the door of the classroom and walk next to you, making you glance at the individual, before rolling your eyes. You just weren't in the mood.You kept silent as you continued doing your work, as Ran casually slid a chair next to you and flopped his legs on a bench, gazing at you with a bored look.

"You're not your usual self today." Ran stated, making you scoff, "And how is that supposed to bother you?" You retorted.

"Its not fun as it usually is, since the fodder is not acting as its supposed to."

"Listen I'm literally not in the mood for our pestering, so take this somewhere else, and leave me alone."

There were some moments of silence, as you started thinking that had you managed to officially piss him off, before you heard him speak, "You're being too harsh on yourself. You're overworking. You're feeling as if you're not doing enough."

Your eyes widened, before slamming your hands against the desk, "Oh now you wanna sit here and judge me?" you asked furiously, as Ran's bored expression didn't falter, "Of course I'm judging you. You're acting stupid."

You felt rage building inside you hearing his words.

"Oh yea? Then why don't you tell me what's not stupid."

"By taking care of yourself."

You were taken aback as you heard his words, while he gazed upon you with a neutral expression.

"You feel you're not good enough, you want to prove to others that you're good enough, you're working yourself, but in reality you're just destroying yourself. Tell me, is this what you like to do? Is this what you really want to do in life?"

You stayed silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in silence for few minutes. You stared at your notes blankly before you saw some wet droplets on the book. You were crying. Your tears fell through your eyes, as you silently cried, your shoulders slightly shaking, as Ran gazed at you. You realised he did say the truth. You were scared that your vulnerable side was being exposed to him of all people. But you were glad that he understood you and gave you the space you required in the form of silence. That evening, you two walked home, as you awkwardly fidgeted beside him.

"Sorry.." I muttered, making his attention being caught.

"Dont worry about it."

Since that day, you started accepting him, your trust enfolding in him, as you both started hanging out together more often. You started sharing your snacks to him giving you rides back home on his motorcycle. More and more, you two got closer, as you slowly started seeing each other's real sides. Soon you started hanging out with him after school, alongside realising what actually his reputation is. Despite being a delinquent, your respect for him grew as you got to know the more vulnerable side of him, his time raising up Rindou all on his own, when the kids of his age were supposed to play in parks. You were also officially introduced to Rindou as well, surprisingly getting along, making a part of Ran pleased that you were on good terms with his brother.

After months, with no surprise, you two caught feelings for each other, as Ran was the first one to take the step, leading to you following him. The news of you two dating, had spread like wildfire much to your dismay, as it was like a roller coaster of chaos and frenzy, much to Ran's amusement. You would scold him for PDA, while Ran would pester you, sometimes making Rindou mimic gagging voices, leading to you to diffuse the fight between the brothers.

Even though Ran was among the most infamous delinquents, you did have him in your hold. One moment he would be the intimidating Roppongi king, while the next moment he would look like a kicked puppy when you scold him for eating too much sweets.

Soon enough, you were the first one to blurt out the first 'i love you' which made you cover your mouth, as you were patching up Ran's wounds, while he looked at you wide eyed like a deer in headlights, before you felt him wrap his arms around you and whisper the same three words repeatedly in your ear.

You were so happy. In fact the happiest.

Then what went wrong....

"Ran I've never meddled in those delinquent activities of yours. Heck even when you were in jail, i would still visit you and Rindou. But please can you just listen to me?? just this once?? Please don't get involved with this 'tenjiku'"

"(NAME) these are my friends, and we have got this covered. I don't get what you are so frustrated about. You're starting to irritate me."

"I'M IRRITATING YOU??? CAN YOU PLEASE LISTEN TO ME FOR ONE GODDAMN TIME??"

"Baby listen to me, You're just overreacting."

"How am i overreacting Ran?? You're planning to fight one of the biggest gangs in Tokyo"

"And we are the S-62 generation. We are much better and experienced than them. I know how to deal with those Toman people."

"Its not about you dealing or having the strength to fight them Ran. I can't see you in jail or something like before. I can't handle it-"

"THEN YOU SHOULD'VE THOUGHT ABOUT THAT BEFORE BEING WITH ME THEN." Ran exclaimed, his tone getting louder.

You stood there mouth agape, as your boyfriend had turned around, an irritated look on his face.

You stuttered, "HO-HOW CAN YOU EVEN SAY THAT??" DON'T YOU SEE THAT I'M JUST TRYING TO LOOK OUT FOR YOU?? ARE YOU THIS STUPID TO UNDERSTAND AND LET YOUR EGO IN THE WAY??"

"AND HOW MANY TIMES AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY THAT I CAN HANDLE IT?? OR IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU TO UNDERSTAND? STOP MEDDLING IN MY BUSINESS."

"RAN I CAN'T WATCH YOU GET INTO SHIT AGAIN. I CAN'T. I'M BEGGING YOU TO BACK OUT OF THIS JUST THIS ONCE. I JUST DON'T THINK ITS GONNA END WELL"

"(NAME) ITS ALREADY DECIDED. I WONT DO IT. DON'T YOU GET IT?? THIS IS MY GOAL. TO RESTORE THE ERA OF S-62. TO BRING BACK THE OLD GLORY. TO BECOME THE LARGEST CRIMINAL GROUP JAPAN HAS EVER SEEN! I CANNOT AND WILL NOT BETRAY MY FRIENDS!!"

You stood there as tears had welled up in your eyes, as Ran had yelled at you as red was filled in his eyes.

You stood silent for a few moments before meekly speaking up, "So does that mean you'd betray me?..."

Ran looked down, his jaw clenched, before turning, raising his head up, the cold impassive expression painted on his face which he always puts on in front of his gang members, "If it means reaching the goal I've always yearned of....then yes..."

You both stood in silence staring at each other, before you scoffed, breaking your gaze and looking towards the ground, "I can't." You murmured, "I can't. I just can't. I can't let myself be hurt anymore. I can't make myself suffer through this anymore. I'm tired of being hurt. I just can't do it anymore."

"Then maybe you should leave."

You noticed your tears falling on the carpet of the apartment, as you were scared to look at the man in front of you, but your gaze flickered nonetheless, only to find his hands on the table, but the serious cold expression on his face.

You looked up the ceiling, trying to control your tears before storming inside your shared bedroom and packing your things, sniffles escaping you, as you felt the coldness of the room hit you. You felt your heart shattering into pieces, but you couldn't let yourself go through the hurt again. You really did try to keep up with him. You really did. But you just can't. You were too tired. You were tired of being helpless and hurt. He couldn't understand your point. He couldn't understand you like before. He was too obsessed with it. Its too much. He was moving much further into the dark side. You did try holding out your hand towards him, but he kept swatting it away. You cannot let yourself fall in the darkness, this black pit as well.

You finished packing your bag, as you headed out, as you saw your 'ex' boyfriend stand with his back turned to you, his hands crossed, leaning against the kitchen table. He made no attempt to stop you.

That hurt.

As you reached to the door knob, you halted, not turning back, as you closed your eyes, "I really hope you know i was just trying to help. Please Ran...please..."

You stood in a quiet silence before you heard him speak,

"Goodbye (NAME)."

You took a painful deep breath, as slight whimpers left you, "Then do me one last favor before its a goodbye."

Ran stayed quiet,as you continued,

"Don't you ever come in front of me again...I cannot see what you will become after this...It'll just hurt me more. I can't see you like that.. I love you too much for that."

You didn't wait for his response before you left the apartment, slamming the door on the way out. As you walked down the stairs and onto the streets, you could feel the cold winds blow against your face, before you felt your soul shatter as you broke down in the middle of the street, thankfully no one there to see you in such state, as you sobbed. You sobbed till there were no tears as you felt yourself break at every tear that spilt on the ground. After a while, there were no tears to spill, as you felt yourself going numb, before standing up, your tear stained face mirroring a blank expression, as you aimlessly walked down the street before reaching to your own apartment.

As you slammed the door on the way out, Ran internally winced at the impact. He stood still before taking a painful deep breath as he ran his hands through his face, before feeling wet pool up in his eyes, as he painfully exhaled, a feeling he had last experienced when he was a young kid, and experiencing it after a long time at 19. It had been years since he felt such despair or pain, as he felt his heart heavy, hurting deeply, but he still maintained his composure, burying his face against his hands, leaning against the table. He realised he had lost you. He realised it as soon as you both started arguing. He was clever and mature in that way. He stayed like this for some time, trying to gain his composure, before straightening himself up and continuing his work. He had a goal to fulfill. He had chosen this path, of regaining Tenjiku's glory back, of conquering Japan along with his friends, and to make Tenjiku the biggest criminal syndicate Japan has ever seen. He had his life purpose to fulfill. He wasn't going to let anyone get in his way.

Years passed.

Ran was leaning against his car, as his left hand smoked a cigarette, wrapped around the neck of some chick who was entertaining him for the night, while his right hand held his phone to his right ear, listening to his brother talking about the next debriefing and base plans. He hummed in acknowledgement as he played with the girl's hair in the meantime who was giggling like a schoolgirl next to him.

He had changed in almost every way. He became more fashionable. He started wearing suits more often, rings adorning his fingers. He had changed his long hair from blonde and black to short purple and black fodder haircut, his short strands of hair falling on his face, while a black and white tattoo adorned on his neck, near his adam's apple.

It had been years since Tenjiku had lost against Toman, losing Izana and later on Mucho in the process. But then the Kanto Manji gang was formed, its leader being Manjiro Sano, the former leader of Toman, while him and his brother, along with some of his friends and acquaintances being the executives. Soon led the formation of Bonten, the largest and most dangerous criminal syndicate in the whole of Japan, which he was now an honorary top executive of. Since he was part of yakuza, obviously he gained more build and stature, along with rich money, skills and access to weapons and being part of dealings. He was known for his charisma, ensuring to seal in the deals with no hitch. He would often have one night stands with many girls, and owned numerous clubs in Japan, Roppongi being his main center.

As him and this chick walked down the streets, heading towards some hotel room for the night, before he realised he had forgot protection back at his mansion, making him internally curse, as he asked the chick if she was on birth control, to which she replied with a negative, making him curse out more internally before heading to a nearby store. As he had gotten hold of some of some condoms, and went to pay the cashier, he saw someone stand beside them, checking out at the same time. His gaze traveled only to fall on the person next to him, making him stand still in surprise.

After the breakup, you were in pieces for a while before you managed to gain yourself up and move forward. You continued your studies and worked your ass off for your dream job for years before finally succeeding, leading you to become successful in life, as you were happy with your dream job. Through your job, you even managed to find a man who took care of you, as you both found happiness in each other, before he got on his knees and proposed to you, making you his happy fiancee. You were truly happy in your life. You could get whatever you wanted. You had really thought you had forgotten about him. But turns out you were wrong.

As you had your credit card held out for checking out, you noticed another person coincidentally checking out at the same time, him holding out his card as well. As your gaze flickered to him, your calm smile turned into a shocked expression, as your blood ran cold, looking at him.

"Oh.."

"...Hey (NAME)..."

The girl in his arms looked at both of you confused, "Baby do you know her?"

You awkwardly smiled at them as you noticed how the girl was held by him in his arms.

"Yea..just..we used to know each other before.." Ran said, his gazxe not leaving you, while yours shifted from your groceries to him and the girl, "Hey Ran...Its been a while..You've changed.. a whole lot.." You chuckled, making him nod his head slightly as well, few chuckles leaving from his mouth as well. "Well its nice see you as well...after a...long time.." You both stared at each other for a few seconds before you shook your head, getting yourself out of the trance, "Oh lemme just check out."

You both acknowledged each other awkwardly as you pursed your lips, as Ran let you check out first, to which you thanked him meekly, before heading out. Ran quickly checked out before leaving the girl and chasing after you, "(NAME) WAIT."

You stopped midway as you turned around to find him catching upto you, "Hey uhh, since its been a while, maybe we could hang out for some time."

Your mouth formed out an 'o' as you looked at the groceries, "Oh uhh actually i gotta get going home..and i dont wanna intrude between you and your girlfriend."

"Oh she's not my girlfriend.."

"Oh.."

You pursed your lips as mixed feelings coursed through you, "I dont know Ran.."

"Just once..thats all. A plain hangout."

You pursed your lips, before taking a deep breath, "...fine...just once, a plain hangout."

"Good." Ran said, as he shared the details of the cafe and the meeting time around evening.

You bid goodbye, as you continued to walk, while Ran stood still, watching you walk away, old memories flashing in both of yours minds.

That night, as the meeting for a drug dealing got over, Ran stood at a balcony in the Bonten headquarters, smoking a cigarette, overlooking the view of Tokyo, as he leaned against a railing, thinking about your encounter. He heard a pair of footsteps walk towards him, before standing beside.

"I know that face...I haven't seen that in a while. Whats wrong? Is it something with the meeting?"

Rindou leaned against the railing, his back towards it, as he took a cig from Ran's stash which was held out towards him by the former, before removing a lighter from his pocket and lighting up, taking a whiff off it, before puffing out the smoke.

"Nah, the deal's fine. Nothing wrong with it." Ran shrugged.

"Just spit it out already. Seeing you nervous of all the people here, makes me nervous as well."

Ran took a big whiff from his half burnt cigarette, puffing out the smoke, "I saw her."

Rindou raised his brow in questioning, "Saw who? Some chick you slept with last week?"

"Of course not, why'd i give a shit about her?" Ran grunted, "It was (NAME)"

Rindou eyes slightly widened, as he looked back towards the meeting hall, while Ran kept looking at the skyline, "See her as in?.."

"Met her in a mart while I was buying condoms with the chick i was planning to stick with today, Saw her at the checkout, had a awkward convo, then invited her for a meetup tomorrow."

"Damn." Rindou whistled, "I'm surprised she agreed to it given what happened." Rindou retorted, making Ran roll his eyes, "What even are you planning to talk with her tomorrow? How you sometimes asks for tabs on her just to check up how she is behind her back, or that you haven't moved on from her after all these years and sleep with multiple women just because you imagine them as her in your bed?"

Ran looked at Rindou incredulously, making Rindou roll his eyes, "I heard you once sleeping with a random chick, just to call her (NAME) while you were in the middle of it." Rindou had a disgusted expression, making Ran snort, not denying or hiding the fact, "I don't remember you being around."

"Of course you didn't. You forgot to read my text saying i was coming over for some work. Honestly i don't wanna replay that in my head again."

The men stood in silence, puffing out whiffs of white smoke from their mouth, before Ran broke the silence, "I do miss her Rindou. I really do. She was the only one asides from you who gave two shits about me."

Rindou took a deep breath, "Did you know she was the only lady till date that i tolerated, let alone respected among whom you have dated or slept with."

"Yeah I know."

"You had to make a decision Aniki, and you did. It couldn't be helped. Someone like her doesn't belong here."

"Why do you think I kept away from her?" Ran retorted, before taking a deep breath, "If you were in my position what would you have done?"

Rindou raised his eyebrows at his older brother, as he snorted, "Wow its just weird just hearing you sound so sentimental and asking stuff like this, when its always the other way around? You sure didn't snort something on the way here?"

Ran rolled his eyes, before Rindou spoke up, "If i loved someone, I would personally never let them in my life. Our worlds are different, we live in a far dangerous one. She's not meant for this. Although it would hurt from afar, as she has moved on with someone, but I would be glad she's living in a life which makes her genuinely happy, where she would smile often. Although she is far, I would always love her from the bottom of my heart."

The brothers now facing the city skyline, stood in silence, as cold wind touched their faces, engulfing the silence between them, white faint smokes released from their air."

The next day as you arrived at the venue, you parked your car just at a distance, as you leaned against your seat, taking a deep breath. Its been many years since the last you saw him, 12 years maybe? You thought you were over him, but your old memories flooded back, the good as well as the bad. You had grown matured and smarter. But you also remembered the pain you felt as your heart had been broken by him. Call it teen romance, but you both knew what you two had for each other was far more than that.

You shook your head, before unbuckling your seat belt before heading towards the designated cafe. As you walked in, your eyes roamed around the place before it landed on a the purple haired man, as he waved at you to come over.

As you both sat down, you ordered your food before turning to each other, "Woww its been a while huh?.." Ran started, as you nodded in agreement, "Yea it has.."

"How have you been doing?"

"I'm doing well...How about you?"

Soon the conversation started as you two caught up with each other, sharing some laughs with each other. You two had realised how much you had changed since the last time you saw each other.

Ran eyed your wedding band on your left hand, "So..I see you have a partner."

You looked down to your left hand, "Oh yea, Got engaged just a few months prior and are now settling for the wedding dresses, venues stuff, you know.." You said, as Ran nodded, pursing his lips, pain filling in his heart, as he forced a smile on his face, "I'm glad to hear. You must be very happy now.."

"I am.." You said, as you stared at him, nodding your head slightly. You both observed how mature your faces had become, before you spoke up, "So what are you doing now anyways?"

"Oh you know, business deals, stuff.." Ran shrugged, as you eyed at him. You had of course noticed the tattoo on his neck, which belonged to one of the biggest, worst criminal organizations, Bonten.

"I see."

Ran did notice your gaze flickering to his tattoo, as he knew you had figured out what he was talking about. He always liked that smartness of yours.

You both stayed in silence for a few minutes,

"I'm sorry."

You looked at him surprised and confused, "Hm?"

"I'm sorry for what happened."

You chuckled bitterly as you looked out the window, "Its fine..it doesn't matter anymore. It was all in the past. You made your decision and i made mine."

You did feel your throat burn a those words, but you knew it was the truth.

Ran looked at you, wincing internally at your tone change. You two split the check before heading out together, as you walked out of the restaurant. It was around 8, and Ran was walking you towards your car, when he stopped, "(NAME).."

You turned towards him, as you saw him with an expression you hadn't seen on him before, at least not for a long time, as your heart started pounding due to the nervousness, "I know we have our two different separate paths-"

Oh god you knew this was going to happen. You took a deep breath, as you closed your eyes, denying his words.

"But i really did miss you."

"No Ran,-" You tried stopping him,

"I know I know (NAME) just listen to me."

"No Ran you can't pull shit like this, I knew this was going to happen-"

"(NAME) Please just listen to me-"

"What is there to listen Ran?" You raised your voice slightly, trying to see if anyone was around, not that you cared, although to your luck there was no one.

'You can't just spring this upon me. Not after so many years after that bullshit."

"(NAME) please just listen to me. I'm not asking you to take me back." Ran said, as he held onto your shoulders, trying to explain. "We both know that you wont take me back, and honestly I can't even let you. I care too much about you. I love you too much for that."

You shook your head, as tears were filling your eyes, as rage started filling your body as you tried to break free from his grasp, but he held tighter.

"But I just want one thing. Just one thing. Let me tell you the truth. That's it. Nothing else."

You stood, as you closed your eyes, not able to look at him, as he continued, "I don't regret anything that i did in my life. It was what i believed was right. But the only regret which i have...you.."

His grasp grip softened, as you broke free from his grasp and stood at a distance from him, "My only regret is meeting you, because if I had not met you, then I wouldn't have made both of us suffer. You wouldn't even have to worry about me, I wouldn't have had to care for you,....and I wouldn't have let you go through the pain that i put you..."

You looked up to the sky as you held back your tears. "I will always remembered the day we first met in class, you back answering me, leading to us to argue in the middle of the class." Ran clenched his fist as the memories flashed in his mind. "Me pestering you, while you swatting me away as if I was a damn parasite and a menace." Ran chuckled bitterly as you still didnt meet his gaze, this time your lips slightly quivering.

"I remember us hanging out around that old yakisoba place, you scolding me for eating too many sweets or oversleeping, me playing with your hair while teasing you with PDA,...our first 'I love you's.."

You turned your face away from him.

"I loved the way you would hold onto me as we rode on my bike, purposely speeding it just so you could grab onto me tighter, your voice just saying my name, your smile and laughter which immediately brightened me up. I loved how you not only accepted me, but my brother as well. You accepted me, you loved me just for who I am."

You covered your face, as you tried to hold in your feelings, "Ran no, don't do this, stop..."

Ran held a sad smile as he looked towards the ground, "I did try keeping my end of the promise you know."

You didn't make any action, but you were silent, making him continue, "I really did try keeping myself away from you. But I couldn't help it."

You slightly tilted your head towards his, not fully facing him.

"I was so proud of you when you graduated from your university."

You head snapped towards his direction, as he looked up at you, a sad but a pained expression on his face.

Rain started to pour, as the droplets could be felt on your heads.

"Wh-what?" You asked, confused.

"Even though you could not see me, I couldn't miss seeing you, even if I had to take the last row seat, just to see you."

You felt your heart shatter, as you were realising the more. He was there.

"When Rindou told me about your fiancee, not going to lie, it hurt like a bitch. But seeing you smile was the only thing that I wanted from you."

You covered your mouth, your legs feeling weak.

"God you looked so beautiful when you were trying on the wedding dresses. You looked like the queen of my dreams. Made me wish it was me beside your side."

You fell on the floor on your knees, as heavy sobs wrecked you, as tears streamed down your eyes and onto the floor, mixing the rain that was splattering onto the floor, and was streaming down your faces and bodies. He was there the whole time...He was there...just to see you...Away from you...But you didn't know...

You could feel your whole world collapse as you sobbed and cried, ironically remembering the time when Ran saw you crying for the first time, but this time he was the reason for it. You wanted to deny, wanted to call him a liar, a pathetic asshole who had the audacity to sump something like this on you, when you were happy and living normally. He was there the whole time...but he didn't come to you. He was so close, but yet so far.

"I hate you..." You whimpered as you sobbed.

"I fucking hate you..Why would you do this to me?? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS??? WHY WOULD YOU FUCKING TELL ME THIS NOW??!! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU WHEN I NEEDED YOU?? WHY WOULD YOU PUSH ME AWAY LIKE RAG DOLL??" you wailed, as you sat on your knees, your tears not stopping, as you let your emotions out.

You felt a pair of hands wrap you, as you felt a hard warmth against you, despite the coldness of the rain. Ran reached out towards you, getting on his knees, hugging you closely, as he missed the warmth of your body against his. No matter how many women he had slept with or dates, no one could replicate the warmth you made him feel from the inside as well as the outside. Even if he would be sleeping with someone, the only woman he would end up thinking of, was you, no matter how much he tried to push you back.

"YOU CHOSE THIS RAN!! YOU CHOSE YOUR FUCKING CRIMES AND DELINQUENCY OVER ME!! YOU FUCKING TURNED YOUR BACK ON ME WHEN I ASKED YOU FOR ONE THING! SO WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME NOW?? WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME GO THROUGH THE PAIN AGAIN?? I HATE YOUU!! I HATE YOU RAN HAITANI!! I HATE YOU FOR PUTTING ME THROUGH THIS, YET STILL MAKING ME NOT FORGET ABOUT YOU. I HATE YOU FOR BEING AN ASSHOLE YET STILL MAKING ME LOVE YOU!!"

Ran patiently hugged you in his arms, despite you hitting his chest with your, as he caressed your head by his one arm while his other arm tightly wrapped around you, as you both were still on your knees, you weeping your soul out, as he took all your punches and insults with a pained smile.

As you slightly calmed down, breathing heavily accompanied by hiccups and sniffles and your nose becoming red, Ran did not leave his grasp from you, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not running after you. For not chasing you as i should've done the moment you stepped out the door. For not giving you the stuff and love you deserved. For making you go through hell. You maybe the thing i regret...but you're also the greatest thing that could've happened to me."

Your tears flowed as you gripped onto his shirt, him not caring you messed up his well ironed shirt, as tears stained the fabric, while he continued to speak, "I do not regret falling in love with you. I do not regret keeping a part of you buried in my heart. I do not regret seeing the smile on your face even if it means i have to keep myself from just hugging you and kissing you right then and there. But you don't deserve to be in my world. You're too precious to me. I love you.."

You whimpered as you heard the last three words, as Ran held a pained smile, exhaling harshly, "I love you more than the stars and moon, enough to make me fall on my knees, enough to burn the whole world just for your sake, enough for you to be happy without me. You don't have to say it back. I know you won't. You have your own life and own world to live in.

You gripped onto his shirt tighter as he hugged you more closely, "I hope the man who you are with, whose place i wished I had taken with you, makes you happy, more happy than I could've ever kept you. Gives you the happiness you deserve more than anything in the entire world. I love you (NAME). I would always love you."

You sat in the rain as he held you in his arms, as you weeped your heart out, while pained exhales came out from him, as he didn't stop hugging and caressing you. You two sat like this for an hour as you calmed down alongside the rain.

The rain droplets ceased to exist as you two sat in the middle of the street, sitting across each other, your legs and arms folded.

After a while after the rain stopped, you sat in silence before getting up slowly, "I gotta go."

Ran nodded as he got up with you as well, as you turned around and walked towards your car at a distance. Ran didn't utter a word, as he saw you leaving without any acknowledgement, He was just relieved he could finally confess his long felt feelings, as he had mentally prepared for this.

As you opened your car door, you stood still for a few seconds, before turning to face him slightly, "I hope somewhere in this universe...there's a life where we could be for each other, love each other just the way we would, a life where we would choose each other, but its not this one...Not this lifetime..."

Ran stood still as he watched you utter those words, as he smiled slightly, "Then i would choose you in every single one of them.."

You gave him a pained but genuine smile for the first time, before you stepped in your car, as Ran watched you drive away, as this was the last time he would ever see you again. Ran smiled, as this time he was the one looking up the sky, holding back his tears.

--------

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anathemaspeaks · 5 months

Text

dandelion wishes

character(s): shoto todoroki synopsis: always the bridesmaid, never the bride - isn't that how the saying goes? my name is momo yaoyorozu, and in my case, it's true. word count: 1.3k warning(s): none a/n: not my best work, but here you go anon :) likes, follows, and reblogs are appreciated <3 this is all from momo's point of view.

it happened at my birthday party, a day after i turned 16.

kaminari managed to somehow smuggle booze into the house. still teenagers and drunk off the excitement more than the liquor, someone suggested we play 7 minutes in heaven. everyone cheered in agreement - except bakugou, of course. he opted to stay sober and make sure we don't have too much fun.

after a few uneventful rounds, it was finally my turn to spin the bottle. i wished it would land on shoto. this was my chance to tell him how i feel about him. maybe he'd say something back? well, a girl can dream...right?

my heart hammered in my chest as i gripped the bottle, spinning it on the polished wooden floor. every spin felt like an eternity until it finally landed with a decisive click. i traced the path of the neck, breath catching in my throat as i saw it pointed directly at todoroki. this was it. this was my chance.

we awkwardly shuffled towards the closet, the door creaking shut behind us, the dim light casting shadows on the wall. before i could calm my nerves and speak, todoroki blurted

"listen, about the spin…" his voice was uncharacteristically soft, almost hesitant.

"yeah?" i forced a nonchalant reply, inhaling to try and calm my nerves. he ran a hand through his dual-colored hair, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

"actually, there's someone i... well, someone i kind of like." a sheepish grin tugged at the corner of his lips. it felt like the wind got knocked out of my lungs. my eyes darted around the cramped space, landing on a crumpled magazine lying forgotten on the floor. this was happening. finally.

"oh, cool," i choked out, my voice barely above a whisper, "who is it?" i asked nervously, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

a beat of silence.

"y/n" he mumbled, a shy smile on his lips. the name rang in my ears, shattering my dreams of a chance with shoto. i forced a smile, "oh."

maybe this was for the best.

maybe y/n would make him happy in a way i couldn't, maybe she was what he had wanted all along.

maybe y/n wouldn't have walked out of this closet with a broken heart hidden behind a painted grin.

of course it was her. it made perfect sense. her smile could light up a whole room, kindness radiating from her like sunshine. she was effortlessly beautiful. she was everything i couldn't be. everything i wanted to be. pretty, smart, funny, strong and kind.

how could i ever compete with that? a pang of jealousy, sharp and unwanted, twisted in my gut. i should be happy for them.

and yet the feeling wouldn't leave.

my gaze flickered up to shoto's shy smile, and the way his eyes seemed to light up just at the mere mention of her. a hollow ache settled in my chest, envy so deep it felt like a barbed wire wrapped around my heart.

shoto's turn.

i held my breath, the unsettling feeling in my gut worsening each second. when the bottle stopped spinning, it landed on y/n.

of course it did.

as if tonight could've gotten any worse.

they emerged from the closet looking like a tornado had hit them. clothes askew, hair a mess, and faces flushed with a kind of unspoken ecstasy that left little to guess.

the next day, they walked into class hand-in-hand. it was official.

today marks 2 years since that day.

over this period, they became the textbook definition of the perfect couple. they were disgustingly cute. sneaky, affectionate, glances in the middle of lectures, whispered jokes that erupted in shared laughter, their hands seemingly glued together.

shoto 'resting bitch face' todoroki, weak, a complete loverboy for y/n. he'd wrap his arm casually around her waist, brush stray hairs from her face with a lingering touch, and steal kisses during training breaks. it was a side of him no one had ever seen - a shoto who wore his heart on his sleeve. for her.

here i was, stuck watching their picture-perfect love story unfold, a constant reminder of the confession that will forever remain trapped on my tongue.

we were sprawled across mina's living room floor, empty pizza boxes scattered around like confetti, and a half-eaten bag of chips resting precariously on a mountain of rom-com CDs. the topic, just like a normal beginning to a girls' night, was boys.

"boys are the worst!" mina declared, prompting a chorus of agreement from everyone.

"mine just left his gym socks under the bed again. seriously, how hard is it to use a laundry basket?" uraraka chimed in.

just then, y/n came in from the kitchen with a bag of marshmallows and sat down next to us. well, she wouldn't be participating in the complaining.

"look who finally decided to grace us with her presence," i teased, nudging her playfully.

"so, how are things going with the ice king, anyways?" asked jirou.

she blushed a bit. "oh, the usual. he's amazing, and he's surprisingly..." she trailed off, a sly smile on her face.

"surprisingly...?" mina prompted.

"let's just say his quirk isn't the only thing that's hot and cold."

the room erupted in laughter and whoops for her. i forced a laugh, feeling an all too familiar pang in my stomach.

the conversation continued, everyone chiming in with their recent stories about boys. including y/n. every detail felt like a knife to my heart. 'that should've been me' i thought. i pushed it away. i wouldn't let my jealousy get the best of me.

they all seemed so happy, while i was stuck on the sidelines, yearning to feel their joy. we all fell asleep in that room while watching movies and gossiping, a smile on everyone's tired faces. i still couldn't help but feel a little bitter. but i couldn't let it get the best of me.

now we all have finally graduated. we decided to still meet up every saturday for dinner, and this week, it was at todoroki's. the familiar buzz of anticipation and excitement filled the house as we all talked about our first week after graduating.

then, shoto and y/n walked in hand-in-hand.

"hi everyone!" greeted y/n, smile so bright it was contagious.

"sit wherever you're comfortable, dinner will be ready soon" announced shoto.

"but before that, there's something we have to tell you." she was practically shaking in eagerness.

todoroki cleared his throat, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "we, uh, well…" he fumbled for words, a rare sight for the usually composed half-and-half hero. she squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"we're engaged!" she blurted out, a wide grin on her face.

the air crackled with shock. wide eyes, dropped jaws, and a silence followed the announcement.

"wait, married?!" kaminari finally found his voice, his eyes wide with surprise. "but you guys are only eighteen!"

todoroki chuckled, a sound rarely heard before y/n. "we know," he admitted, a hint of shyness lingering in his voice. "but we knew what we wanted, and well, here we are," he added, a hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

and then, as if a dam had broken, the group erupted. mina squealed, launching herself at y/n in a bone-crushing hug. kirishima gave todoroki a hearty back slap, nearly knocking him over. uraraka, tears welling in her eyes, showered them both with congratulations.

"dumb brats, you're gonna regret this!" yelled bakugou. but i saw him turn away and wipe away a falling tear. both y/n and shoto engulfed him in a hug. he threatened to burn their arms off if they did it again, but the smile on his face was hard to ignore.

congratulations continued, hugs going all around. the surprise announcement had cast a whole new light on their evening. it was a celebration not just of friendship and graduation, but of a love story that had blossomed within the very walls of U.A., a love story we all saw unfold.

married. at eighteen. the words echoed in the hollow space where my confession had died. cheers rained down on them, a cruel confetti shower on my silent tears. my wish for him was as futile as willing a dandelion's wispy white petals not to fly away with the wind.

they were a love story written in stolen glances and secret touches, a masterpiece i could only watch unfold from the sidelines - a happy ever after that couldn't be mine.

to the anon who requested this, i know you wanted it to be more angsty so i tried to make it as vengeful as i could, i hope you like it! <3 (i accidentally deleted the ask I'M SO SORRY)

please send in requests everyone 🫶

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tiny-pretty-sana · 6 months

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tzuyu gf | headcanons

warning: nsfw content (+18), minors dni, men dni

sfw

tzuyu is the kind of person who makes you feel safe, gives you stability and keeps you grounded. she feels like home. however, she is much more than that, she is an adventurous and passionate person. she is home, but she is also the breath of fresh air that comes in through the window

she has a dual personality and regardless of how well you know her by now, she still surprises you

she is the shyest person you have ever known, but she is also the most shameless.

when you first met her she was timid and quiet, but as she felt comfortable around you and opened up more she started showing her more playful and funny side

it didn't take you long to discover that she has a quick mind when it comes to giving sharp, unexpected, sarcastic and incredibly funny responses

she does it with her friends and on occasion with annoying strangers, and eventually she dared to do it with you as well

she has the ability to read the room and people very well. just by looking at your face she knows when you are happy, when you need space or when you need a hug

this quality allows her to easily fit into all kinds of situations

when tzuyu wants she can go unnoticed the same way she draws all the attention whenever she wants. of course she knows exactly what she has to do to get your attention in a room full of people

she has a bit of a tsundere side. she isn’t the biggest fan of pda, places her hand over your mouth when you come up to kiss her, likes to tease you and whines when you are clingy.

secretly, she enjoys the attention and loves when you baby her.

she prefers subtle displays of affection but when you are alone she’s more affectionate

she plans the best dates. she always comes up with some way to make the dates unique

for example, on your first date she took you to a dog cafe instead of a regular cafe

museums, markets, outdoor painting, picnics, pottery classes or a spa day are the kind of dates she usually organizes for special occasions.

tzuyu’s love language is gift giving. if she sees something that reminds her of you she will just buy it. she also likes giving you things that will remind you of her on your relationships

you already share a few matching bracelets, necklaces, keychains and phone cases

she also loves bringing things that she bakes on special days and when she’s staying over, she never comes empty handed

she has a strange habit of talking to you like her dogs. the first time she did it you almost choked and she almost died of embarrassment, now you are used to it and find it adorable

be careful because she has 8 overprotective unnies who would do anything for tzuyu which you quickly understood since she’s easy to love and awakens the protective instinct of anyone

luckily, getting the love of her dogs was much easier and only took a couple of walks, a few treats and some belly rubs

tzuyu loves visiting new places whether it be traveling to other countries, taking you to her home country or a short trip to the beach or a more rural area

when you two travel she tries as much local food as possible and convinces you to try them as well. then she replicates the dishes she liked at home. lately she has improved a lot and she cooks better and better

she cooks your comfort food when you’re feeling down

she never cries but she is very sensitive when it comes to certain issues that are very important to her, that's why you freaked out when after your first time she cried. it turns out that she realized how much she loves you

nsfw

she is shy and seems innocent, but she is also open to experimenting and wants to try new things

she enjoys vanilla sex as much as she enjoys kinky sex, it depends on the mode you are in.

tzuyu was not the most experienced person and that's why you wanted to go slow but she was dying to get intimate with you

the first time you went made up you had to stop her and tell her to slow down because it was rushed and sloppy, not because of her inexperience, in fact she's a very good kisser, but because of how eager she was

when you kiss her unexpectedly or make a suggestive comment she literally freezes, so it was a surprise for both of you to discover that she leans more to the dominant side

she's a soft and gentle dom, a side she's starting to explore more with you

she loves kissing your face and body when you do it, caressing you and giving you little nibbles

she loves praising you. she uses more petnames during sex than she does in front of people, that's why if you hear her call you ‘princess’ or ‘baby’ in public you can't help but blush

tzuyu is one of the most caring people you know and it's something she shows in bed too

you’re above her shyness and you comfortable and safe, so she’s getting more vocal about asking if you like what she is doing or asking you to guide her when she needs it

she enjoys giving as well as receiving, so she’s quite comfortable being both top and bottom.

she’s not very loud. when she’s bottoming she moans but has the habit of trying to cover her mouth with her hand or her pillow, when she tops she breathes deeply and sometimes you can hear her groans even if she tries to contain herself

she’s a good at kissing and using her mouth, she really enjoys eating you out but she’d rather be on the receiving end

she likes much more fingering you or using a strap, something she had never used before

the first time she put on the strap on she came out of the bathroom completely red and couldn't look you in the face until after a while

now it is something she enjoys very much and has bought a few different dildos so you can have more options

as someone who likes to give gifts, from time to time she gets spicy gifts for both of you like lingerie or a toy she’s curious to try

her other favorite positions are scissoring, 69 and tribbing. it allows her to give and receive pleasure from a dominant position, guiding you with her words and leading you with her movements

something that drives her crazy is making you touch yourself in front of her and guiding you while you do it

for someone who sometimes avoids physical touch she can sometimes be very needy when she really wants to make you feel good and be inside you

she’s curious about bondage. she thinks you would look beautiful tied up unable to move, being at her mercy

she also thinks you would look great with a collar around your neck.

during your vacations she likes doing it in the hotel room, always in the spot with the best view. it doesn't matter if it's the bed, the bathroom or the balcony. she likes to enjoy the view

lately you have tried degradation, spanks and other ways of inflicting light pain. it was a surprise to her how turned on she got from seeing her hands marked on your ass

just like she does with dates she gets creative with aftercare and is always looking for new ways to make you feel good that go beyond cuddles. although, she tries to play it down, she needs a lot of aftercare too, especially when you have tried degradation, bondage or anything that leaves marks on you for a few days

#°❀‿request #twice headcanons #twice imagines #twice smut #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu #tzuyu hcs #tzuyu headcanons #tzuyu x reader #gg imagines #gg head canons

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fans4wga · 1 year

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[September 1] Don’t Fall For Hollywood Bosses’ New PR Spin

'Today marks the 122nd day of the Writers Guild of America (WGA) strike and 48th day of the Screen Actors Guild and American Federation of Television and Radio Artists (SAG-AFTRA) strike. The dual work stoppages have brought Hollywood to a standstill, with production halted on films and television programs, and premieres and other promotional events either scaled back or canceled. Both guilds are striking over demands that are more than reasonable, particularly given studio executives’ record pay. These demands include fair compensation for streaming media (particularly better residuals, which currently pale in comparison to what they are for network and cable broadcasts), robust studio support for health and retirement funds, and safeguards around the use of artificial intelligence. (For more on why WGA and SAG-AFTRA are on strike, read the excellent reporting of Jacobin’s Alex Press).

In a move that has shocked…pretty much no one, Hollywood bosses don’t want to share their earnings with the very storytellers responsible for generating them. At the same time, they’re happy to make workers pay the cost for their own miscalculations about streaming.

The major Tinseltown studios – organized under the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers (AMPTP) trade association – remain stubbornly opposed to striking a fair deal with either guild. Under the leadership of AMPTP president Carol Lombardini, studios have employed brutal tactics to bust the strike, including threatening to drag things out until writers lose their homes and using management-friendly trade publications to pressure the guilds into accepting lowball offers. These tactics have backfired spectacularly: not only have they failed to end either strike, but they’ve also turned the public overwhelmingly against the AMPTP. A new Gallup poll finds that Americans back the WGA over the AMPTP by 72% to 19%, and SAG-AFTRA over AMPTP by 64% to 24%.

Aware of their reputational damage (but willfully ignorant of the anti-worker attitude that caused it), the AMPTP announced a “reset” to its approach this week – not by negotiating in good faith or meeting the guilds’ demands, but by hiring a pricey crisis-management PR firm to revamp its image! According to Deadline, the AMPTP has hired The Levinson Group – a D.C.-based PR shop best known for representing the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team in its campaign for pay equity – to “reframe the big picture for studio and streamer CEOs who have been characterized as greedy, imperious and out of touch.”

If you’re feeling like you’ve seen this movie before, you’re not wrong. During the last WGA strike 15 years ago, studio bosses hired former Clinton comms strategists Mark Fabiani and Chris Lehane to revive the AMPTP’s flagging public image. The revolving-door duo were paid a jaw-dropping $100,000 per month by the AMPTP to strike-bust, deploying campaign-style spin attacks designed to break the WGA’s resolve.

As I wrote for The American Prospect in May:

“Fabiani and Lehane created a website with a live tally of the millions of dollars in income that guild members and on-set crew had purportedly lost by striking. They urged studio CEOs to publicly refer to WGA representatives as “organizers” rather than “negotiators” because the former “sound[ed] more Commie.” Lehane even told the press at one point that striking writers were “making more than doctors and pilots,” cynically arguing that the strike was harming “real working-class people” like below-the-line workers who had lost income from struck late-night talk shows […] Fabiani and Lehane were [also] the brains behind a “strongly worded and downright menacing” AMPTP press release breaking off negotiations with the WGA in December 2007. This move allowed the studios, which cited a protracted strike as an “unforeseeable event,” to invoke force majeure contract clauses and cancel multiple writer-producer deals worth tens of millions of dollars, severely demoralizing the WGA’s rank-and-file members.”

The parallels between 2008 and today are striking. Like Fabiani and Lehane (who have worked for scandal-plagued clients like Gray Davis, Bill O’Reilly, Lance Armstrong, and Goldman Sachs) the Levinson Group has no qualms about representing greedy and unsavory characters. Over the years, Levinson has done PR for predatory student lender Better Future Forward, reviled monopolist Live Nation/Ticketmaster, a talc mining company linked to the Johnson & Johnson baby powder cancer scandal, and Theranos fraudster Elizabeth Holmes.

And just like the ex-Clinton spin doctors, the Levinson Group boasts close revolving-door ties to powerful politicians and the news media. The firm currently represents President Biden’s personal attorney Bob Bauer and previously represented John Podesta’s family lobbying firm. Levinson partners have previously worked for an array of influential politicians, including former President Bill Clinton, Senators Jon Tester and Amy Klobuchar, Representatives Maxine Waters and Ted Lieu, and former and current Los Angeles Mayors Eric Garcetti and Karen Bass. The firm’s founder and CEO Molly Levinson spent eight years working for CNN and CBS, while two of the Levinson Group’s top managing directors are alumni of CNBC and The Wall Street Journal. With a web of strong connections to power players in the entertainment industry’s twin capitals of LA and New York, along with the nation’s capital, Levinson could help the AMPTP tilt the regulatory and media scales back in the bosses’ favor.

Though this may sound demoralizing, striking writers and actors shouldn’t lose hope. For one, consider a surprisingly uplifting parallel between 2008 and 2023. Fifteen years ago, after Fabiani and Lehane took the AMPTP’s contract, the SEIU and other unions that had previously worked with the duo severed ties with them for trying to bust the writers’ strike. Fast forward to this week: the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team Players Association (Levinson’s star client!) publicly rebuked the firm for doing the AMPTP’s dirty work and voiced support for the dual WGA and SAG-AFTRA strikes. If history is any indication, it’s only a matter of time until other pro-union Levinson clients – like the majority SEIU-owned Amalgamated Bank – follow suit and sever ties with the firm.

There is also one crucial way in which 2023 is thankfully not like 2008: The Levinson Group is bad at their jobs.

Consider an August 27th New York Times article about AMPTP President Carol Lombardini*, which was almost certainly pitched or otherwise molded by Levinson flacks. The article goes to ridiculous lengths to rehabilitate Lombardini’s image:

The article passively describes Lombardini’s tenure as “marked by labor peace until now” (a peace that she has now broken) and shifts blame for her unpopular decisions to anonymous AMPTP members (how convenient!).

Article co-authors Brooks Barnes and John Koblin quote a 2014 email from then-WarnerMedia CEO Kevin Tsujihara praising Lombardini’s negotiation skills and recommending she receive a $365,000 bonus. Curiously absent from the article is any mention of Tsujihara’s high-profile 2019 resignation from WarnerMedia for pressuring actresses into non-consensual sex.

Barnes and Koblin attempt to paint a “she’s just like us” picture of Lombardini (who reportedly earns a $3 million annual salary), mentioning her upbringing in a “working-class town outside Boston” and love for Red Sox and Dodgers games.

Barnes and Koblin paint a rosy picture of the AMPTP’s “sweetened proposal” (their words) to the WGA, describing the studios’ August counteroffer as “including higher wages, a pledge to share some viewership data and additional protections around the use of artificial intelligence.” Barnes & Koblin never quote the WGA’s well-founded reasons for turning down this lowball offer, saying only that the WGA is “holding firm to demands related to staffing minimums and transparency into streaming-service viewership.”

Bizarrely, the core issue of underpaid streaming residuals (the main reason writers are demanding greater streaming transparency) is never mentioned in the article.

Barnes and Koblin frequently imply that criticism of Lombardini is unfair, describing her as an “easy target” for the “grievances of striking workers” and singling out a tweet purportedly “mocking [Lombardini] as a fuddy-duddy who hangs out at chain restaurants”.

Barnes and Koblin quote a pre-strike September 2022 Deadline interview with Teamsters organizer Lindsay Dougherty to claim that Lombardini has the “grudging respect” of union leaders who see her as a “fair individual.” They did not quote more recent statements from Dougherty, who last month tweeted that the “greedy” AMPTP had “declared war on Hollywood Labor” by refusing to negotiate in good faith with WGA and SAG-AFTRA.

In one unintentionally eyebrow-raising line, Barnes and Koblin state that Lombardini was “inspired to become a lawyer by reading articles about F. Lee Bailey.” Neither Bailey’s sordid clients (like OJ Simpson) nor his multiple disbarments are mentioned in the article.

And it’s not just me who finds the Levinson Group’s efforts laughable. Discussions of the NYT story on Reddit and Twitter are dominated by comments tying the story’s blatant reputation laundering for Lombardini to the AMPTP’s concurrent hiring of Levinson. A recent New Yorker puff piece on Warner CEO David Zaslav has been met with similar ridicule – with many commenters also pointing to Levinson’s potential influence. So too have recent stories from management-friendly trades like Deadline – all of which have failed to make a dent in strong public support for WGA and SAG-AFTRA. This is a good sign: not only is the public more inclined to side with striking workers than it was in 2008 – it’s also seemingly more attuned to the role of corporate PR flacks in shaping the media narrative. If studio bosses think they can remake the same movie and end another strike with flashy spin-doctors, they’re sorely mistaken.

So here’s my advice to the AMPTP (and it won’t cost you six figures per month to hear it): the way to fix your reputation problem is to end the strike by giving writers and actors what they want. No strike-busting comms team can rescue you from the hole you’ve dug yourself into.

As the LA Times’ Mary McNamara recently put it, “You’ve lost the war. The best thing to do now is negotiate the terms of surrender.”'

#wga strike #writers strike #sag-aftra strike #sag strike #actors strike

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mostly-mundane-atla · 1 year

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Things Inupiaq culture doesn't traditionally have:

Kings/royalty (requiring tribute from the people you lead is seen as tyranical and tyrants are killed when possible)

A cash economy (dentallium shells were valued by many other cultures and sometimes were used as money in international trade, but not among fellow Inupiat)

Agriculture (we are traditionally a hunter-gatherer people seasonally following the herds, fish, and ripening greens and berries)

Corporal punishment (you aren't even supposed to yell at people or even scold children)

Slavery (you could argue this one since women were sometimes captured and taken as wives; but this is typically regarded as an ancient and morally questionable practice. The Inupiat didn't believe in owning people or their labor, only at best associating through marriage, blood relation, or wife-exchange)

Primogeniture as a hard-fast rule (Inupiat culture was traditionally patriarchal so a son may inherit his father's status as a family patriarch if he is already a father at this time, but material inheritence was not guaranteed to work that way)

A written language (historians were assigned to memorize records, family trees, and the like)

Human or animal sacrifices (would be considered cruel and wasteful)

Formal vs informal language (socio-economic class is mutable and does not affect language)

Gendered pronouns (our language uses pronouns to indicate tone of a sentence the way many languages use pronunciation, as well as relationship between subject and object in complex sentences and in all cases whether the subject is singular, dual, or plural and if the sentence is in first, second, or third person. An absolute fuckton of pronouns and none of them are gendered)

Raw meat taboo (except in the case of pregnancy; the arctic climate means the weather was not too far off from refrigerator or freezer temperatures, if not colder, and underground storage was often placed around frozen methane deposits known as permafrost)

Dog meat taboo (dogs were helpful as beasts of burden or sometimes hunting companions but when there's a famine you gotta eat what you can)

Many ceremonies taken for granted (for example, if a man and woman mutually agreed they were married, that was the only wedding required. We had big celebrations for survival, and women got incredible face tattoos for coming of age, but many lifestages were celebrated more low-key with little pomp and circumstance)

Shirts (you didn't wear anything underneath your atigi, and if it was too warm for it, you took it off. Yes, even women. Presbyterian missionaries thought we were godless sluts for our tits out ways)

Virginity marriage requirement (it was best if a woman hadn't had sex before but only because we lived in small communities and you have to keep track of bloodlines. Having sex didn't make girls unclean or impure and unwed mothers were taken care of by their families and weren't stigmatized)

Required monogomy (men could have multiple wives and women could have multiple husbands, wife exchange was a means of fostering allegiance, and the main problem with cheating is that it involved lying and prioritizing pleasure over duties like making sure your husband doesn't fall to his death while hunting. In stories about cheating and revenge, the cheater and retaliating jealous partner are both depicted as in the wrong)

There are more, but these i feel provide a pretty good basic idea of the culture. You can use these bits of info as Water Tribe worldbuilding inspo if you want, but i won't pester you into it. I just think my culture is neat and wanted to share ^-^

#eskimo on main #might talk about captured wives one of these days because that concept always facinated me

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imagineinside · 16 days

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Star-Like Encounters (Hugh Jackman x Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

Previous Chapter: https://www.tumblr.com/imagineinside/760282819875471360/star-like-encounters-hugh-jackman-x-femreader?source=share

A/N: First of all, thank you guys for the love on the first chapter! Sorry it took me longer to get this second one out, life has gotten hectic (I study Aerospace Engineering in real life and my semester just started lol) but this is a great escape for me. I think Chapter 3 will be even more fun to write than this one. ;)

Description: You begin your first semester at a prestigious university with a mix of excitement and chaos. After a frantic start involving a late arrival due to your roommate’s Hollywood-related detour, your day takes an unexpected turn when you meet Hugh Jackman, your roommate’s boss, at a movie studio.

Hugh, intrigued by your expertise in physics, invites you to consult on a film project aiming for scientific accuracy. Balancing your new academic responsibilities with a potential Hollywood cameo, you must navigate your dual interests. As you face your own feelings, you discover that the lines between your professional and personal worlds are more intertwined than you imagined.

Currently Applicable Tags: (Future) 18+, Fluff, cocky Hugh Jackman, flirty Hugh Jackman, age gap (55 and 27), so much pining, mutual pining, more to come.

The next week and a half went by without any real hassle. In fact, Hugh and your roommate had to go overseas for some press release on the upcoming debut of the “Deadpool and Wolverine” film, which you were definitely going to see on opening day. You could hardly believe Hugh Jackman was already working on a new movie, but perhaps he needed to be busy with work right now to keep his mind off other things. You understood the feeling.

You hadn’t sent Hugh another text yet, despite the fact that your roommate had already given you the green light to do so. You had just secured your first semester at Stanford, and while there was nothing in your contract stating you couldn’t pursue other career opportunities, being a professor to over 100 students still took a lot of time. And being the newest, and youngest, faculty member you knew you were under heavy scrutiny from the headmaster.

It was rather unheard of for a young professional at the age of 27 to become a professor. But throughout your university career you had pursued your Masters and Bachelors at the same time, which had just left a three-year long Phd to complete in which you focused on laser technology and nuclear propulsion systems. Hugh Jackman had been right about at least one thing, you were very dedicated and passionate about your craft.

After your class Wednesday morning you were set on grading papers for the rest of the day, the assignment had been “What shape is our universe?” a relatively simple question but with a lot of avenues to discuss. Well, you were set on grading papers until you opened up your YouTube account to turn on background music and a new interview featuring Hugh Jackman popped up on your feed. This one was from The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, so they must have just taken a while to post it.

It was as if your hand had a mind of its own as you clicked on the video. A wild round of applause started as Hugh Jackman took his seat and seemed to readjust his sweater, hips popping in the air. God, he was so effortlessly attractive. The interview went through the normal questions, yet you still soaked up every minute of it. It wasn't until the last couple minutes that Fallon had asked him, “So can you tell us anything about the new movie that is still in pre-production? I mean, I have no idea what it’s even about!”

Hugh laughed, crows feet growing appearing to his eyes. You absolutely adored the smile lines around his eyes and mouth, you wish you could trace every single one. “I can’t say too much, sorry, Jimmy. What I can say is that we’ve recruited some expertise for the physics of the movie… y’know like the stuff that us movie producers aren’t very well versed in.” He said with another laugh, “And I gotta say, she is just amazing, and very passionate about her work.”

“Is she the hottie of her department too, Hugh?” Fallon had asked with a laugh, obviously making a joke.

Hugh seemed to pause, a smile forming on his lips, “If she isn’t, then I would be very surprised, Jimmy.”

“Does the Hugh Jackman have a crush?”

Hugh laughed, “Even if I did, I highly doubt it would be reciprocated–”

You slammed your laptop shut, heart pounding in your ears. You whipped out your phone to text Ashley but paused when the keyboard popped up, what exactly were you going to say to her? Hey! So your boss inadvertently flirted with me and it’s making me feel some very specific type of way. What do I do???

Instead, you opted to open up the email from Ashley which included an agenda for the pre-production discussions. Attached to her email, she had written, “I also let them know your work schedule and when you have your mid-term breaks, so we tried to work around them.” You smiled at your friend's generosity, she truly was so encouraging of your work and had so much admiration for you, as you did her.

As you reviewed the dates and times alongside your class schedule, you realized there was really no reason to say no. They had aligned the dates perfectly so that you wouldn’t have to worry about missing or being late to any lectures. Sure, you may have to take your grading work on the go, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. You were a professor for an introductory graduate course, you weren’t meant to be too hard on these kids.

You reopened your phone, hesitating over Hugh Jackman’s icon before clicking on your messages. Before you could really think about it, you hurriedly typed out a text and clicked send.

Putting your phone on do not disturb, you shoved it to the side and got back to grading papers. It took nearly a full three hours before you were done with the stack of 100 essays, and you had merely skimmed them. It probably would’ve taken you far longer to thoroughly read through them.

It wasn’t until you had your bag packed up to return home that you dared another look at your phone. You weren’t sure why you were so nervous, the worst thing he could say was that they found someone else, or if he didn’t respond at all. You still weren’t sure this was all real, so having it come to an end may be for the best anyway.

Upon seeing that he had messaged you only minutes after you sent him your initial text, you hurriedly sent an apology.

The photo had you laughing in the middle of the hallway on your way out of the building, getting a few glares from fellow professors and students. You mumbled a quick apology and hurriedly went through the exit, simultaneously typing a response back to him.

* * *

It wasn’t until Sunday night that your roommate returned home and immediately beelined to her room. You couldn’t blame her, being gone and traveling that whole time would have made you really miss your bed too.

You decided to be a good friend and greet her with a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs the next morning, to which she had immediately devoured both. Then you were off to class, with a promise to pick Ashley up on your way to the first of the pre-production meetings.

During your lecture, it felt like it was impossible to focus on the task at hand. Instead, your mind seemed to want to focus on your nerves about seeing Hugh Jackman again, in person. Sure, you two had been exchanging a bit since last Monday, but it wasn’t about anything personal. You tried to keep your conversations strictly professional so as not to give yourself a heart attack.

“Finally, God, what took you so long?” Ashley grumbled as she clambered into the Volvo.

You rolled your eyes, shifting it out of park and merging onto the road. “Someone is still jet lagged.” “Ugh, don’t even get me started. I still want to be in a ball on my bed right now, not going to this meeting. Plus!” Ashley exclaimed, throwing a finger in the air, “I won’t even know what you’ll be babbling on about! I don’t know rocket physics or whatever.”

“Astrophysics,” you quietly remind her.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to undermine your interest. I’m just tired and grumpy.”

You laughed, “It’s fine, Ash, let’s just make it there without you jumping out of this car in an attempt to escape.

“Don’t tempt me.” She said, and you both burst out into laughter.

* * *

When you arrived at the older looking building closer to downtown Los Angeles, Ashley showed you where to park in the back to keep your license plate hidden. “Paparazzi like to take pictures of the cars here and try to track them down,” she had explained.

Then you were knocking on the back door, your heart in your throat. You heard footsteps approaching from behind the door before the door swung open to reveal an older gentleman with curly, graying hair.

He gave you two a bright smile, “Ashley, good to see you again.” He greeted Ashley to which she gave him a half-hearted grunt back. “And you must be the professor I’ve heard so much about. I’m Shawn, the director for the film.”

You smiled and shook his hand before he stepped aside to let you guys in. The building wasn’t at all what you had expected, you thought the meeting would be at a cold, fluorescent-lit office building, not this quaint, rustic old home near downtown.

You followed Ashley into what you thought would be the dining room of the household, where you were greeted with six other individuals–including Hugh Jackman himself, sitting around an oak table with a whiteboard at the very end. The whiteboard was full of different scribbled imagery and what you thought was an attempt at Newton’s Laws… you couldn’t be quite sure.

“Ah, there she is!” Hugh exclaimed as he tossed his reading glasses–which you tried not to think about how hot he looked with them on, key word: tried–and began walking over to you.

You opened your mouth to greet him, right before you were enveloped in a warm hug by his giant body. He was so much bigger than you, standing side-by-side you hadn't noticed. But right then you felt safe… protected.

You tried not to revel in the hug too much, allowing yourself one long draw of his clean, pinewood scent before pulling away. “Good to see you also made it back alive. Though the jet-lag isn’t affecting you as much as Grumpy over there from Snow White.”

Ashley flipped you off as she settled in a chair and pulled a stack of papers into her lap.

“Thank you for coming,” Hugh said as you drifted your eyes up to his face. His hands clasped around your shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze before he turned to go back to his spot at the table.

Clearing your throat, you settled into the last remaining seat at the head of the room. “I have already signed the NDA for the film and faxed it to Ashley while she was away. So, if I’m able to ask, what exactly did I need to be asked about?”

All eyes turned to Shawn, the man that had greeted you at the door. “There is a part of the film where the main characters are sending their ship through a wormhole to travel a big distance. Can you describe how that would look?”

Oh, boy… “Well, how scientifically accurate are you hoping this movie to be? Like Interstellar level, or Star Wars?”

“We were hoping for more Interstellar.” A bald man across from Hugh answered.

“In that case, it’s important to note that scientifically speaking, we don’t know if wormholes even exist or not. In theoretical physics, they can be described as ‘tunnel-like’ structures.” You paused to survey the faces of those around you, your eyes falling on one face in particular. Hugh had his head resting on his open hand, a twinkle of something in his eye as he nodded in encouragement for you to continue. “Basically, wormholes are a wrinkle in whatever fabric space is made of,” you said and picked up a piece of loose paper that was on the table. You brought the two edges together to form a wrinkle. “Simply, it would be like a tunnel traveling through this paper. But that wrinkle needs to exist first.”

“And you don’t know ‘if the technology which we humans have created would be able to survive traveling in a wrinkle through space. Or if the human body would survive on a molecular level’,” Hugh carried on.

You nodded slowly, not sure if he knew what he was quoting, “Yes, that was from my… um, my graduate thesis.”

Hugh smiled and held up a stapled stack of paper, “I know, I printed it out.” He laughed as he confessed, “I think I’ve read it three or four times to grasp everything you discussed.”

You tried to hide the blush forming on your cheeks. While you took great pride in that thesis, you didn’t think anyone–especially Hugh Jackman–would have taken such an interest in it.

“The other issue is what lies beyond the thin fabric of space if a wormhole exists? That’s the greatest mystery of my field, though,” you laughed, “We have no idea what our universe is actually expanding into. Does matter just cease to exist past that point? Is it a giant black hole? We have no clue.”

“From the sounds of it, you can’t answer our questions then.” The bald man said to you from across the room, his icy glare making you snap your mouth shut, before turning to Shawn, “I told you it would be a waste of our time–”

“I think you should leave,” a gruff voice announced, and it took you a moment to register that it was Hugh who said it. Was he seriously willing to stand up for you like that?

The man scoffed, “Seriously?”

Hugh stood suddenly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. It was hard not to notice how mouth-drooling good he looked in his green cashmere sweater. It really did hug him in all the right ways.

“Yes, seriously,” Hugh insisted as he began to walk around the table. As he passed by you, he gave your shoulder–at least what you imagined was–an apologetic squeeze. The feeling of his calloused hand against your bare shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. “Come, I’ll walk you out.”

“Shawn, really?” The bald man looked to the director.

Shawn sighed as he glanced up at Hugh. He must have seen something in his lead actor's eyes since he said, “I think it would be best for you to take a break for now, we will see you again tomorrow.”

Without another word, the man gathered his belongings and stormed out of the house, slamming the backdoor before Hugh was able to close it for him. Once Hugh returned to the room, you felt like you could breathe again.

“So, where were we?” Hugh asked as he sat back down, and you didn’t miss the way he shuffled closer to you to rub soothing circles on the small of your back.

* * *

You answered a few more of their questions regarding wormhole travel, black holes, and also the passing of time in space versus on-planet. After an hour and a half it felt like you were losing their attention, so you decided to end the discussion there. Ashley had fallen asleep on the chair, but when it was time to go you gave her the keys and she went out to the car.

Eventually everyone had cleared out of the room besides you and Hugh, which left you not really knowing what to say.

“I’m sorry about Steven,” Hugh had started. He was standing behind his chair, hands braced on the back of it. His fingers were so long and elegant, and his palms were double the size of yours. He was an all-around giant compared to you.

You waved it off, “It didn’t phase me. I’ve dealt with worse individuals before, happens a lot in my field actually.” You paused before saying, “Thank you, though, for, um, sticking up for me. But you should know I can take care of myself,” you said with a playful smile.

Hugh’s face grew into a smile that matched yours as he took a few steps forward until he was just a handreach away. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah!” You said and playfully punched him in the chest, your fist contacting with refined muscle, “I’m a big girl. Do you see these guns?” You laughed and pretended to flex your arms.

“I feel bad for whatever person crosses you,” Hugh laughed, though it quickly tapered off as he worried at his bottom lip.

You furrowed your brow and titled your head, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Hugh gave you a lopsided smile, though it didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just nervous.”

“About what?”

“Well,” Hugh began but quickly paused as he scratched at the rough beginnings of a beard. You wish you could feel that stubble scraping against your skin and watch it leave irritated marks all over you. “I am assuming you know the debut night for Deadpool & Wolverine is coming up soon.”

“Duh!” You laughed, “I already got tickets for me and Ashley opening night.”

“Right, of course, nevermind then,” Hugh laughed it off with a shrug, but you caught his arm as he went to go past you.

“You aren’t getting off that easy. What were you going to say?”

It seemed like he still took a moment to contemplate it before he said, “I am allowed a plus one for the debut, and my kids already have stuff going on. I guess I was wondering, as a thank you for your help with all this, would you like to go?” He let the question hang in the air for a second, “As my plus one, of course. And I could get you in contact with my stylists and I am sure they would love to have a woman to dress for a change,” he said with an awkward laugh that you still found quite endearing.

“Hugh,” you began and he looked at you as if you held the entire world in your hands, “I would love to go. I’ll arrange with Ashley to make sure one of our friends can go with her in my place.” You paused, something like anxiety creeping up your spine, “But won’t you be worried about what people will say if they see me there with you? I know you are inviting me as a friend and colleague, but… the media tends to run with stuff like this.”

Hugh shook his head and grabbed at the hand you still had on his arm, “No, I won’t be worried. It would be an honor to have you there.” Before you could move away, Hugh brought your hand up to his mouth, leaving a quick kiss on the back of it. “You should get going,” he said, his voice rougher, darker than usual. It’s what you imagined his bedroom voice would be like. WHOA, totally not the time to be thinking about that. “Ashley is probably waiting for you.”

You nodded and shook yourself out of whatever trance he put you in, “Yeah, right, right.” You gathered your belongings and went to leave the room, and you aren’t entirely sure what confidence came over you as you turned back to him to say, “Oh, and Hugh? I am definitely the hottie of my department.” With a wink, you disappeared from sight.

Taglist: @corvusmorte, @chinchie, @reinabxitch (if you aren't on this last but want to be let me know!)

#hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman #hugh jackman imagines #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #logan howlett #hugh jackman fluff #cocky hugh jackman #flirty hugh jackman

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dykeulous · 3 months

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dual system feminism; what is it?

i, personally, subscribe to the dual system theory of feminism. i describe myself as a radical marxist feminist, as i believe that radical feminism alone has the tendency to be revisionist, while marxism alone has the tendency to be sex-blind & blind to the unique oppression of women. i share many beliefs with radical feminists, while still supporting the marxist feminist strategies on female liberation. the patriarchy & capitalism are two systems that both oppress women uniquely, the patriarchy needing submissive & meek women, and capitalism needing cheap female labor.

the patriarchy could still thrive after capitalism is taken down. we need to place special importance on female liberation during the revolution. simply fighting capitalism won’t liberate women like many marxist feminists suggest, and thinking that way is dangerous; as the revolution could potentially bring about an equally sexist system. simply taking capitalism down isn’t enough, and we cannot be sex-blind. we need to place special importance on gender abolition, and especially because many socialist males aren’t interested in the abolition of gender– and they are just interested in building a classless society for them, while still keeping women chained up & oppressed, while still holding a fierce class system in the private domain. if we fail to place special importance on gender abolition, it is likely that our next system will also be a heavily patriarchal & sexist one.

being a radical marxist feminist means understanding that you have to be gender critical in order to support female liberation. i recommend reading heidi hartmann’s “The Unhappy Marriage of Marxism and Feminism” for a brief intro to the dual system theory, in order to understand the strong need for both radical feminist & marxist feminist perspectives & strategies, to understand the flaws of both radical feminism & marxism and the need for a more progressive and more equal union of marxism & feminism, to understand the tendency of both historical & contemporary marxists being sex-blind & seeing female struggle as just this subtype of class struggle, as just another struggle within class struggle; instead of seeing it as class struggle itself, and finally, hartmann provides an explanation of how the patriarchy & capitalism work together in sync, how cheap female labor is needed for capitalism whereas housewives are needed for the continuation of the private sphere of female oppression.

radfems & marxfems aren’t monoliths. both offer plenty useful strategies, and both provide liberationist theory which can shape many girls from proletarian families into comrades, activists, and progressive thinkers.

“Women hold up half the sky.” - Mao Zedong

#radical feminism #gender abolition #gender critical #marxist feminism #radical feminist theory #marxism #proletarian feminism #dual system theory

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 9 months

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Autistic Anime Boys Prelims - Propaganda Division - Group 2

Propaganda:

Kyouya -

"what's there to say? you know him. you love him. vote kyoya."

Rinnosuke -

"Rinnosuke Morichika lives in an overly-cluttered curio shop, and has a special interest in making magical inventions. Since he doesn’t live in a modern setting— but a pocket dimension slightly disconnected to the outside world— whenever a modern item shows up in his shop via spiriting away, he can obsess over it for extended periods of time. He is quite blunt without realizing it, even to people he cares for. He also has a special ability to generally understand the name and use of any item he touches (though this backfires sometimes, he thought a Gameboy was a doomsday device once)."

Fuuta -

"okay look theres so many fucking signs hes autistic. he cannot tell tone and often doesn't know how to react to stuff which is a major point in his character id say. he was asked if he remembered his victim's name (hes a murderer. oops!) and his response was something along the lines of "Of course I do. I saw it everywhere." because he did not understand that they wanted to know what it was since it wasnt directly stated. im convinced that hoodies are a comfort object of his because i genuinely have not seen him without one except for one time. also hes canonically a chronically online twitter user. also he gets really passionate about his interests. also not really related but everyone in the fandom agrees hes transgender but no one can agree on what way. ive seen every single gender hc for this dude. vote kajiyama fuuta for this sopping wet poor little meow meow of a man."

Hansum -

"He's just a very odd and strange lad, can't remember names well, is an alien (mild spoiler), he's very popular, obsessed with Doritos and becomes their mascot, just refers to everyone as humans which is a mood, and is completely socially oblivious."

Miyuki -

"Relatable neurodivergent-Gifted Child syndromeTM case with all the superiority-inferiority complex that results. A chronic show-off and scheming strategist with a lowkey hopeless romantic dramatic aspect to him, silly cool and pathetic in a very hilarious way. Shirogane has a trademark glare purely thanks to his eyebags as he runs on coffee everyday having to support his family with multiple jobs in addition to class, on top of student council president duties. He's kind and an obsessive perfectionist who fills his entire wall with the weirdest motivational posters. Shirogane is very devoted to his love. He likes penguins (Kaguya and him is peak asd4asd and bi4bi btw)."

Kirito -

"He's autistic and bisexual as hell, and there's a good bit of trans coding in him 🥺

Autism coding: Bro's literally got a sword and swordfighting hyperfixation where, despite playing a game that focuses around guns, he still chooses to use a sword!! We also see him completely missing Asuna's flirting at first (he tells her she could have just checked her friendlist to make sure he was alive, in response to her tracking him down to see him)

Bi coding: Dual wielding swords is literally a euphemism in Japan for bisexuality; and Kirito initially tries to hide the fact he can dual wield out of fear of how the people he's close to will view him (and once he reveals it to them and they accept it, he begins to be more open about it.) Also in the Underworld arc he becomes very close with Eugeo to the point of living with him (and sharing a bed on occasion), and there are several parallels between Eugeo and Asuna, and they're so gay for each other that despite the anime having only a toned down version of it, they're still very affectionate (Also of note is that Eugeo is the only guy in SAO canon to consistently have a 'laying in bed with Kirito' talk CG in the spinoff games) (There's more but it's spoilers and this is a shortened version)

Trans coding: Kirito is very trans coded in the light novel (which shows Kirito's thoughts in much greater detail than the anime) Aincrad arc reveals that Kirito explicitly Does Not Like his real face, and dislikes how feminine it looks (he mentions that its led to him and his cousin being mistaken for sisters) And in Phantom Bullet arc, he's visibly uncomfortable at being mistaken for a girl due to his avatar's appearance, and in response to being misgendered he briefly panics and checks to make sure his chest flat (at least in the anime adaptation) 🏳️‍⚧️"

Shirou -

"Has one goal in life and ignores almost everything in favor of trying to fulfil that goal."

Keith -

"Speaks in a way that is seen as weird and has mannerisms others think is funny. He struggles with not being taken seriously by others because of this and many of the things others say goes over his head. He struggles to connect with other people because of these things. His entire arc in the second film is about him deciding that the people who don't accept him for who he is aren't worth it and that he's going to continue being himself."

Junpei -

"for other fans of this series, I know the more obvious representation here may be Luou, Junpei is So Good. his special interest is ballet and he has so many hangups involving how his family sees him and how other boys his age interpret him to the point that his idea of masculinity is extremely narrow and he enforces social rules on himself to mask and keep people from realizing that he loves something that Isn't Manly. he misinterprets social cues and takes things literally, like assuming that when Miyako asked him to dance with her she meant Right This Minute rather than as a pair in the studio. for some reason the point where he cuts his hair super short to prove his devotion to ballet is also sticking with me, I think maybe it's the combination of the way it's normal for boys/men in Japan to do that, yet Junpei didn't realize that kind of attitude/action didn't suit ballet at all? he wasn't aware that the context was completely different. Junpei also doesn't act or pretend very well, he's gotta put his whole entire ass into his roles, which he then proceeds to get TOO into and cause a lot of trouble, without giving too much away! he's really relatable to me as someone who's socially anxious but very skilled at masking, and seeing him become more comfortable with himself and start to show how he really feels is so inspiring to me."

Kazuma -

"He may be (wildly) misguided but his intentions are good kinda! He’s just the Guy of all time idk how to explain it."

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sillovn · 2 months

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Marika, Messmer and the Hornsent World

OK, finally collected and wrote up SotE lore thoughts. Specifically, want to talk about godhood and details of Marika’s ascension. There's a lot to cover...

1. Divinity and Order

Godhood and the Elden Ring now appear to be entirely separate concepts (though it’s still likely that only gods can use the Elden Ring). Ascension to godhood seems related to accessing a skyward divine paradise, the ‘Higher Spheres’ as the Grandam states. Meanwhile, the Elden Ring appears to “only” be a tool a god uses to create Order.

This is significant, as it now appears that Marika is the first god in many ages (possibly ever) to wield the Elden Ring. The pre-Erdtree Hornsent make no reference to it in their belief systems or visual culture. Her ascension thus represents a major shift in the world’s history, rather than simply being the passing of ages (which was a fair idea pre-SotE).

As a side, SotE also introduces a new class of divinity; the ‘Old Gods’ who seem to be long buried and gigantic in size. The single known weapon related to them appears inspired by IRL stone-age arrow points? (Yes, I know it’s referred to as meteoric ore. But AFAIK, the practice of using meteoric metal seems to predates the ‘formal definition’ of metal ages.)

2. What is the Original Sin?

It is something kept in the Land of Shadow and then what? Marika’s Gold-Shadow creation event would make thematic sense as the Original Sin, again lending credence to the idea that Marika represents a significant break with tradition.

Its notable that Enir-Ilim remains untouched by the razing of the surrounding country, also it was already shadowed at the time of the crusade. As others have stated, there’s an intentionally concealed past here.

3. Marika and the Hornsent

There is a specific relationship here – abandonment and betrayal (ie. Marika was known to the Hornsent and they expected her to uphold something). This is to say that narratives where Marika is ‘a survivor who slipped away and returned with vengeance’ don’t add up.

Instead, Im going to suggest that Marika’s godhood was supported by the Hornsent. Firstly, Enir-Ilim is held by the Hornsent to this very day, Marika ascends using their rituals and Divine Gate. Next, note the religious similarity between the Hornsent and Marika.

Tree Worship and accompanying ideas (gold is holy, sap blessings, fear of Fire Giants).

Note how compared to the present day Erdtree, the Scadutree is a physical sap-dripping tree.

Crucible worship (fades away in the Erdtree faith over time)

Jar Sacrifice. The Hornsent create Saints, the Erdtree followers use gladiators to make gargoyles (again, fades after Godfrey)

Shared motifs with dual meaning (punishment vs. fertility). Barbs vs. Arcs, Crucifixion vs. Dripping sap.

Marika’s braids and jewelry are spirals

Point Im trying to make is that the Erdtree religion is an evolution from the Hornsent one – especially when considering the initial ‘Age of Plenty’ of Marika x Godfrey.

Maliketh’s existence also complicates any idea where Marika and the Hornsent were enemies from the start. A Shadow is tasked with safeguarding their Empyrean; Marika’s only use for Maliketh was to seal Destined Death, suggesting the path to the Divine Gate had little resistance. Lastly there is also no mention of any Hornsent divine candidate, so consider – it was always meant to be Marika. As you can imagine, this changes the relationship between Marika and the other Shamans significantly (but note how Godwyn’s assassins were Numen).

So, what did the Hornsent want out of their god? Perhaps it was the ability control the Elden Ring?

The Scadutree’s asymmetrical shape is blamed on a lack of ‘capital O’ Order. The Elden Ring as is known, can be used to create Order. I bring this up because there is a symmetrical ‘Spiral Tree’ motif that appears in Hornsent culture.

Did the Hornsent plan to create a god because the Scadutree failed to achieve its prophesized form? Was the hope that Marika would succeed with a new order-infused tree? If true, then the Serosh-Godfrey conflict was likely about claiming the Elden Ring from Farum (note; you can find Crucible Knights and Beastmen fighting there).

The elephant in the room for this theory is whether Marika was ever subject to the Jar-Saint ritual? It certainly gives a neat explanation for Radagon’s origin (a Lord is needed for a god to incarnate, and Marika stands alone at her own ascension). I don’t have a good answer, but (as stated earlier) we can rule out ideas where violence was forcibly inflicted on Marika. This leaves 2 options…

Marika was the only Shaman never put in a jar. She rose to power off the sacrifice of her kin.

Marika willing chose the jar. Which sounds completely insane, but religious ordeals seem commonplace in pre-Erdtree religion (see. Curseblades, Lamenters, Tutelary Deities).

4. Messmer’s Crusade is later historical event

Consider the following.

Messmer is familiar with Tarnished as a concept

Messmer is a demigod, but has no Great Rune

Messmer’s relationship (in terms of seniority) to Rellana, Gaius and Radahn

Messmer’s army includes troops that are standard of later eras; Perfumers, Omenkillers, Tree Sentinels, Abductor Virgins and various Carian troops. Which could be over-interpreting game-assets, but eh?

Ritual combat exists in the Land of Shadow

This is to say; Messmer’s Crusade occurs after Godfrey’s exile, but not too far into the Marika-Radagon era.

If revenge was the motive, why wait for the passing of an entire age and the exile of the land's foremost military leader?

5. Messmer’s Crusade is about Purity

Its explicitly stated that Messmer’s Crusade was about purity (see. Crusade Insignia, Queelign and the various ghosts). With regard to the timeline above; the rationale for exterminating the Hornsent is simply the emerging Crucible taboo put into action (see. Crucible Talismans). This also explains why the Hornsent were not attacked during the Godfrey era.

So what changed? Perhaps Radagon returning to Marika created Golden Order Fundamentalism and all its present-day taboos?

In fact, the crusade as a whole seems to be a bloodbath between the Golden Order’s rejects - Messmer the serpent, Gaius the Albinauric and the Crucible worshipping Hornsent.

Couple more points...

Prejudice vs. Albinaurics might be an emerging opinion at this time, Gaius is both second in command but also a subject of mockery.

Messmer and the crusade are such a dishonor in Leyndell that it is later covered up. Again, if the motivation was to avenge Marika, then why such attitudes?

Belurat does not have a standing army. Sure, the tower has guards, but Ritual Dancers had to be repurposed to fight the invaders.

What Im saying here is; rather than being a foreign nation, Belurat was simply a city within Marika’s empire. Purged for practicing the ‘old ways’ (ie. Crucible worship).

6. Messmer’s Curse?

What is the Abyssal Serpent? What is Messmerfire? Other than the general Erdtree taboo, each of the other ‘flames’ have a distinct property (both in gameplay mechanic and lore) - Blackflame can kill divine beings, Frenzied Flame melts anything into primordial elements.

Messmerfire has a unique aesthetic, and that’s it?

7. A Tower to Heaven

Some ideas about the nature of Divine Ascension.

As per SotE; there seems to be an implication that the sky above holds a tangible divine paradise; the ‘Higher Spheres’. Ascension to godhood quite literally involves reaching into heaven via. Divine Gate.

The building of a Divine Gate also seems to merely be the final step in the process, establishing a connection between Higher Spheres and the mortal world.

Enir-Ilim provides a template to how the whole process might have worked. Firstly, the Divine Gate must be positioned to reach the sky – in the case of the Hornsent, a tower was used (though there might be other options). Vast amounts of sacrifices are also needed, potentially related to the earlier point as throughout Enir-Ilim, architecture is blended with bodies (are corpses used to make buildings fly?). Given that the Divine Gate continues to function at present, long after becoming petrified; Id’ argue that the sacrifice was about creating said gate, rather than a repeated ritual necessary for achieving divinity. I think it’s also safe to say that the main reason for making Jar-Saints was to provide said sacrifices.

The main point however, is that this ‘Corpse Architecture + Sky’ template can be found in 2 other instances – Farum Azula and The Eternal Cities.

This is not a comment on timeline, just shared goals in creating divinity. In Farum Azula’s case, it suggests that the city has always been airborne, flying due to the numerous Dragons and Beastmen entombed within the city (as opposed to meteor aftermath). Also note that Maliketh’s room (which holds a depiction of the Elden Ring and a statue of an unknown woman) sits at the top of a vast spiral stair where the lower part has since been lost.

As for the Eternal Cities? They seem to be attempting divine ascension without finger influence (see. Fingerslayer Blade), with the sky and lord both being ‘created’. Recalling the Nox-Numen-Black Knife-Marika connection, the Eternal City version of this ritual might very well be direct response to Marika’s own ascension.

8. Great Chain of Being

Next, I want to talk about the nature of the paradise. Rather, the idea that Paradise, The Crucible and the Primeval Current are elements within a larger system (if not entirely synonymous).

SotE gives a glimpse into the Crucible’s appearance: it’s an outpouring of ‘golden stuff’ (see. Divine Bird Feathers) that can be stabilized into a spiral column that links gods and humans (see. Spira). With this in mind, take note of the form of Elden Stars. Compare with the creation account (both Ymir and Hyetta versions); The Greater Will fractures the One Great, spilling stardust (carrying life and souls) across space.

Sure, this is *very handwavy*, but one can imagine a cosmology where life is carried in stardust (Primeval Current), reaches physical worlds and pours from sky to earth (Crucible current, also Bird Warriors are closest to the Crucible). A chain linking back to the very origin of all things.

As commonly noted, ER is known to homage old ideas with regards to philosophy/science. Consider here the ‘Great Chain of Being’, an idea that classifies things on a descending scale of God>Angel>Human>Animal etc. Under this classification scheme, a chain/ladder motif is used to depict these relationships (see. Spira), but more importantly; Angels are thought of as beings of pure spirit (more on this below).

Usual disclaimer that history is not my expertise.

9. God Incarnates

Given the Divine Gate does not seem to lead anywhere physical, are the Higher Spheres a realm of pure spirit? The Sculpted Keeper custom (incl. Lion Dancers, Bird/Beast Warriors) involves the invoking/possession of mortal beings by spirits from the Higher Spheres. The whole practice of horn cultivation exists to enable this.

Going further back in time, the Rauh society had a practice of carving stones to act as homes for spirits. Rauh also seems associated with Golems, Ruined Forges and Divine Towers (details on this culture are for another time)

You could argue that invoking divinity is the connection across time between Rauh, the Hornsent and then finally Marika.

The passage of history is: God inhabits a statue (Idols), God can be channeled (Mediums), God walks among man (Messiah).

----

Thanks for reading.

#elden ring #sote spoilers #shadow of the erdtree #elden ring lore #worldbefore

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milfandmoney · 1 year

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Not Her Only Fan (NSFW)

part 1 / ??

melissa schemmenti x parent fem!reader

summary: now that she knows you record videos of yourself naked and do streams to pay your bills, melissa can't stop thinking about your body. she subscribes to your onlyfans account, telling herself that she's supporting a single mom in need and things get awkward and heated real quick

warnings: dual povs, sex work, masturbation, mentions of sex toys

18+. NSFW content. MDNI.

It was all Ava's fault, really. And this time, it wasn't about blaming Ava because she was an easy target who made a mess of everything she touched at school. No. It really was entirely her fault this time. Well, maybe the whole ordeal wasn't Ava's fault, but it was definitely only because of her big mouth that Melissa Schemmenti had ended up in that fucked up situation.

It was all because Ava was way too excited to find out that one of the moms ran a somewhat successful OnlyFans account. And Ava being Ava, she had shared the information in the teachers' lounge, so excited about her little discovery that she hadn't paid attention to the people present in the room.

Melissa knew that some of the male teachers that had been present for the announcement had subscribed to the mom's page—disgusting pigs that they were.

Melissa Schemmenti was not like them, though. She was definitely above that. She had no desire to check out some porn made by some random woman. Except she was no random woman. She was one of the moms that Melissa had encountered the most this year—single mom to a special needs kid in her second grade class. A mom who also happened to be extremely attractive and charming; a beautiful person inside and out.

It was all because of Ava that Melissa had been too curious to resist the temptation.

Being the smart businesswoman that she was, Melissa knew to check the merchandise first before risking to spend money on something that might not be worth it. She had not opened a porn website in a year and a half, but she did that night, wanting to see if she could find previews and samples for the OnlyFans content of emerald velvet.

Melissa had expected to find boring straight content, nothing spicier than good old doggy style. But instead she found artfully shot solo videos with sensual lighting and gorgeous lingerie sets.

Before she could even realise what she was doing, Melissa had pulled down her pants and settled down on her couch, phone clutched in her hand as she waited for a sample video titled "LESBIAN EDGING VIDEO—touching myself for you" to load. The first image that appeared on her screen was a most stunning body in a gorgeous red corset and matching panties, a pair of stockings that hugged her thighs in the most delicious of manners. It was a tasteful look, and as the gorgeous mother started caressing her breasts, her inner thighs, her neck, Melissa reached a hand between her own thighs, rubbing herself over her panties gently.

“You want to touch me, don't you?” the woman on her phone said, her voice teasing. Melissa had heard that voice in her classroom enough times to recognise it. “Shame you haven't earned that right.”

The angle changed, with the woman now on her back, legs spread to expose the drenched crotch of her fancy red panties. When she tugged the thin material to the side, revealing her soaked pussy, Melissa felt her cunt clench at the sight. She could not tear her eyes aways from the leaking pussy on her screen, watching as the younger woman rubbed circles on her reddened clit—Melissa mirrored the movements, desperately seeking her release. She was so close. So fucking close.

And then, all of sudden, everything stopped.

Watch the full video now on OnlyFans!

The words were written in cute pink font and taunted Melissa and her interrupted orgasm. She slammed her phone down onto the couch out of frustration and shoved at the coffee table with her foot.

FUCK!

Melissa wanted to see more.

She needed to see more.

No matter how guilty it made her feel that she wished to get off to porn videos made by the mother of one of her students, nothing else would satiate her and she knew it.

It was just a few minutes before eight when you arrived at Abbott, later than you were usually comfortable with, but nothing had gone smoothly from the moment you had woken up—starting with your alarm failing to ring and Liv needing to wake you up. The toaster stopped working, you dropped the last almond milk bottle when preparing Liv's breakfast, and you didn't have enough time to finish your cup of coffee. Still, you made it to school on time (nothing short of a miracle, really).

“Let's go, mom!” your daughter called as she ran towards the entrance doors.

You followed after her, ensuring that you had actually packed her noise cancelling headphones in your handbag before locking your car door and following after her.

It wasn't every day that you walked her all the way to Ms. Schemmenti's classroom, but you did from time to time, to talk to your daughter's teacher. It was nice to have a quick talk with the woman, to make sure that everything was still going okay with Liv during the day, to ask if there were things they needed to go over together. You had been spending even more time at the school since Liv was diagnosed with autism and ADHD than you had when the teachers still believed that she was just a trouble kid.

“Good morning, Ms. Schemmenti!” you heard your kid exclaim as she ran into the classroom.

The teacher approached when she noticed you in the corridor. You were amused when you realised she wasn't crossing the threshold, keeping the two of you separated. She did not greet you immediately as she usually did, instead looking you up and down—it lasted such an awkwardly long moment that for a second you thought you had put on your outfit wrong, but no, your black shirt was buttoned properly, your dark jeans fit well and your zipper wasn't down, even your boots matched and were laced all the way up.

“Morning, Ms. Schemmenti?”

She looked up at your face and blinked. She looked more tired than you had ever seen her.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.”

You tilted your head at the short, almost dismissive response.

“Ms. Schemmenti, at loss for words, as I live and breathe,” you teased, smirking down at the redhead who stood in front of you.

She cleared her throat and seemed to regain her usual confidence and attitude, that tired, distant and distracted look in her eyes gone. Her eyes were back to the spine tingling intensity that motivated you to walk Liv to her classroom even when it wasn't necessary. It wasn't your fault if you had a thing for older women—it was a fantasy you never acted upon, aside from a few solo videos where you referred to your viewers as mommy.

“Do we need to have a meet up soon?” you questioned.

The redhead was not discreet when she glanced down at your cleavage before answering your question.

“Yeah. I mean no, we don't need to,” she corrected herself quickly once she managed to look away from your body, “Olivia has been doing a lot better lately, she's even starting to make some friends.”

You couldn't figure out what, but something was different about the way Ms. Schemmenti interacted with you. She'd always seemed to enjoy the way you looked, but you had taken it as a sign of mere approval. This was different. It was more like raw attraction—more like the reactions you got from men when they realised that you did porn.

Oh fuck—

There was no way she had found out about your OnlyFans account, right? It wasn't like teachers had time and money to spend on porn subscriptions, right? And Ms. Schemmenti looked too... too... Ms. Schemmenti to watch masturbation videos made by a simple single mom (a hot one, obviously, or else you wouldn't be making money from your videos but still just a single mom).

You couldn't even ask her about it without risking exposing herself in case Ms. Schemmenti didn't actually know about your videos.

“I should leave you to your students, they'll all be here in a couple minutes,” you stated, offering her a smile that was enough to keep her attention on your face. “I'll see you soon enough, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too. Be good, Liv!”

You waved at your daughter as you took a few steps back away from the classroom. You took one last glance over your shoulder as you made your way to the front doors, an found Ms. Schemmenti's eyes on you—and she was definitely not trying to make eye contact with you, unless, of course, she believed that that your eyes were on your ass.

Today was a slow day. Working from home had many advantages, like allowing you to film your videos and do streams on a regular basis. Less time commuting to and from work, a better income, and more time and money to take care of your daughter. It was rather ideal.

Except for the part where you were now half-convinced that your daughter's teacher knew that you did porn on the side. You didn't have time to think about that. You had a live stream planned for noon—people were horny at all hours of the day and the rich men (and occasionally women) who worked office hours left the biggest tips when they were bored at work, something that you had learned quickly after starting your career because of how many new subscribers you got over lunch breaks.

You were used to getting everything up and ready for your lives now, and it didn't take long to choose a set of lingerie that you knew would be appreciated. Today's set was one of your favourites; matching emerald green corset and thong. No stockings, you kept it simple during the day. "Lunchables", as you called your midday streams, gathered only a few loyal subscribers who sent you big tips to listen to you talk about the gifts they had sent you over the past few days and to watch you do a quick solo.

Something was different today when you started your live stream though. A new username had popped up among the usual notifications from your regulars.

Schemmexy.

That... that was not a coincidence. That was ridiculously on the nose.

No fucking way.

You took a few deep breaths and schooled your expression. You couldn't let anything transpire.

It was like any other lunch stream. No problem. Your kid's teacher totally hadn't found out about your special career and subscribed to your account. Totally wasn't watching your stream while supposedly at school—sure, it was lunch break, but still!

You reached for one of the packages you had set down on your bed and braced yourself for a disastrously awkward stream.

But everything went on as usual.

The gifts you had been sent were all high quality silicone dildos (you'd jokingly complaining about your fans sending only vibrators lately, and it seemed they had listening and taken you a bit too seriously), and a couple sets of lingerie (both very pretty and soft to the touch).

You'd gotten off (twice) quickly using a bullet vibrator. You'd said goodbye to your viewers, naming some of the biggest tippers directly to make them happy.

All in all, disturbingly ordinary.

Schemmexy had manifested herself only once, with the smallest tip available, to praise your looks and the way you sounded when you came. The "such a good girl" at the end of her message had taken you aback, but you'd done decently good at pretending you weren't flustered by the words when you imagined them pronounced in Ms. Schemmenti's raspy voice and South Philly accent.

It was so wrong to fantasise about your daughter's teacher though. But it had to be more wrong to watch your student's mom get off live, right?

You couldn't even know for sure if it really was Ms. Schemmenti—even if there was no way in hell it wasn't her.

Deciding that there were much more important things to think about and to do, you got up from your bed and went to take a shower. Maybe the hot water could wash away your sins and your dirty thoughts about your kid's hot MILF of a teacher.

After a long, hot, relaxing shower, you flopped down onto your bed, wrapped only in a towel. It was just the perfect amount of comfortable.

You reached for your phone. One text notification stood out among all the others.

Ms. Schemmenti.

Hey, I hate to bother you in the middle of the day, but the kids have been really excited since lunch break. Do you think you might have time to bring Olivia's headphones?

That didn't make sense. You'd put them in your handbag this morning.

And... and you'd proceeded to be so distracted by the notion that Ms. Schemmenti might know about your second career that you had forgotten to hand the headphones to her.

Well, fuck.

Now you'd have to face the woman after she'd watched you get off live. At least her reaction to seeing you wouldn't definitely give away whether or not it really was her, right?

You were so fucked.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #wlw #wlw fiction #noel writes #i'm writing this for myself

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