#ALSO back to my earlier point about it clearly affecting him. i feel like he does have some like. idk internalized racism?

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi! First of all I love your work ❤️ and I hope you have an awesome spring 🌱 ☀️

My request is both twins being competitive to gain the reader's affection (smut and fluff and a bit angst).

Thank you so much for opening requests.

Thank you so much!! I cannot believe we are spring already, this year is flying by! This has been an absolute pleasure to write, I hope you enjoy🖤

Warnings: smut, mentions of piv, oral fm receiving, fingering, fluff, angst. I’m sorry about the ending.

Words: 1.8k

Fred and George went together like rhubarb and custard; always complementary and very rarely ever seen without their counterpart. They’d grown up together, literally from the second their cells had split in the womb and formed two identical replicas of one another. They’d shared a bedroom, a blossoming business, most classes and the title of beater on the quidditch team, but they had never shared girls.

That was, until you came along.

Fred talked about you first, telling both George and Lee about this gorgeous, funny girl he’d apparently fallen for, something completely out of character for Fred Weasley. Unbeknownst to Fred, George had actually spotted you a few weeks earlier and had been harbouring a crush since that moment.

The twins were naturally competitive but up until this point it had very rarely been with each other, usually as a team and not pitted against one another. This was completely new territory. To make matters worse, you weren’t sure who you liked more. You’d admitted that you’d liked them both, and had made it very clear that you could tell them apart and it wasn’t because you saw them as the same person, but still you absolutely could not choose.

Though they were still on talking terms, the tension between them was palpable. Fred seemed to enjoy stealing you away from his sibling, putting on a display whereas George was quieter about it, ignoring his brother’s show.

“Evening love,” Fred grinned as you approached the twins on the sofa in the common room, tired from the long day and feeling very sleepy. George greeted you with a sweet smile and began to budge up to make room between the two brothers but Fred pulled you unceremoniously into his lap, locking his arms around you. You knew it was a power play in front of his brother but you were too tired to care, choosing instead to curl up into his lap, enjoying the warmth Fred seemed to naturally radiate. Your hand found George’s, not wanting him to feel left out and you entwined your fingers with a smile, feeling your eyes shutting.

When you wake, there’s no sound except the fire slowly crackling and the sound of someone breathing. You turn slightly and see that you’d fallen asleep on Fred, cuddled into his side with his arm around you. Someone must have strewn a blanket over the both of you as Fred had clearly also fallen asleep, but your movement seemed to rouse him, his leg twitching underneath you and some sort of groan slipping from his lips. When you looked up to his face you couldn’t help but laugh, seeing that a piece of parchment had been taped to his forehead. He frowns as you delicately peel it off, his eyes opening slowly, a smile forming on his lips as he looks at you so closely to him before he grows again, seeing the parchment.

‘Gone to bed sleepyheads, G’

You smile, showing Fred the note as he brings his hand up to run at his forehead where the tape had been.

“Just you and me then princess,” he smirks, pulling you back down onto him, quickly looking around to see that you were both alone in the common room.

You make a sort of pleased hum as you rest you head back onto his shoulder, bathing in the warm he radiated. When he shifts, trying to get comfy again there’s something noticeable underneath you, poking you right in the thigh.

“Fred,” you say, adjusting your head to look up at him from under your lashes, slightly shocked. He looks largely unfazed, smirking down at you with his eyes still shut.

“Beautiful girl in my lap wiggling about, what did you think would happen sweetheart?” You nudge him gently and hear his little breathy laugh, making you bounce slightly as you learn against his chest.

You nudge him playfully, making him inadvertently move against you and you suddenly hear the most beautiful breathy moan from him as your arse moves across his erection. It’s like a fire has been lit under your skin, the noise propelling you into arousal even though you’re tired and your eyes want to close, your body is most definitely focused on Fred.

You lean up to kiss him, surprising him slightly before he leans forward and accepts the kiss, his lips moving against yours. He takes control quickly, sensing the urgency and arousal in the kiss and scoops you up with his hands, adjusting you on the sofa until you’re underneath him. He’s beautiful in the light of the fire, his red hair looking like it’s own flames, face illuminated to showcase his best features. His hands paw at you whilst yours wrap into his hair and underneath the collar of his T-shirt, the mood and playfulness of the conversation disappearing quickly.

“Let me touch you baby, please,” he says against your lips, fingers dancing across your hip until he cups the globe of your bum, squeezing gently.

“Please Freddie,” you say, not wanting to break the kiss, your hips moving on their own accord. He smirks and begins to slip his hand into your trousers, toying with the thin strip of underwear at the side before his fingers trace further down.

You bite your lip to stop moaning out when his fingers finally make contact with your pussy, his deep groan muffled against your lips.

His fingers are perfect, long and thin but with the dexterity that could outshine seasoned wandmakers. When his fingers slip inside you, first one and then another you feel like you’re in heaven. He kisses you gently, allowing you pauses when he feels you pull away to quietly moan, knowing he was hitting every single one of your spots. It’s so dirty, to be out in the open like this, Fred on top of you with his hand so clearly down your trousers. You’re cumming in no time at all, his name falling from your lips as you hold him close.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, pulling away from you slightly as you come down from your high, a smile on both of your faces.

Once you recovered, your hands slipped down across his chest towards the obvious tent in his trousers but he stopped you, making you frown.

“Rules princess,” he says, fighting his own intrusive thoughts.

There was only one rule that existed between the twins and their little competition with you; you could be pleasured in any way you wanted but nothing could happen with either of them until you’d chosen.

“Self-preservation,” George had put it.

“Torture,” Fred had retorted. But he’d relented, agreeing that if you were going to pick one, he didn’t want to know that you’d slept with his brother too. You agreed, understanding, but right now you weren’t so certain.

“But,” you argued, feeling guilty that he was still hard and without any resolution. You can see his mind whirling, weighing up his options as he looks at your flushed face and pleading eyes, his lip pulled between his teeth in worry. He sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“Rules is rules sweetheart- and that’s coming from me.”

You kissed him goodnight, still feeling guilty as he tries to hide the obvious erection from you and trotted off to bed to think. You’d come very, very close to breaking the pact, did that mean you wanted Fred? Or where you just horny and carried away?

The next morning at breakfast, George was the one to pull you down beside him, his hand already linking with yours under the table.

“Meet me at the prefect bathroom later?” He says quietly, whispering into your ear and making goosebumps rise up on your skin at the proximity of his lips. You don’t look at him directly but instead bite your lip and give a little nod, eyes glazed over with a mixture of mischief and arousal. It seemed your little moment with Fred last night had awakened something in you that wasn’t completely fulfilled.

Arriving at the bathroom, you paused to take in just how gorgeous George looked in his T-shirt and cord trousers as he turns and notices you stood there, a sweet smile pulling at his face. You were already aroused, the feeling never leaving you all day, remembering his lips so close to your ear at breakfast.

The kiss is passionate and needy, which he recognises instantly and matches your energy. His hands are everywhere, on your neck, your breasts and on your hip to hold you close to him. It’s greedy and you can’t help but rub yourself against him, trying to get any friction you can to give you the relief you need.

“I’ve got you Angel,” he says, “you want this?”

When he drops to his knees in front of you, you feel like you’re done for. You nod feverishly, feeling a little gush of excitement and arousal as he begins to pull at your jeans, slipping them down your leg and off, along with your panties before he reaches out to hook your leg over his shoulder.

He starts to kiss around your lips, your inner thighs and you let out a whine so loud that you’re worried someone will have heard. His tongue pokes out and slowly draws a line right from your little aching hole to your throbbing clit, patting your folds with the tip of his tongue as you gasp and moan, clutching his hair tightly between your fingers.

He teases for a little while before he suddenly begins feasting on your cunt, licking up your arousal and sucking on your sensitive flesh. His tongue flicks quickly over your clit, sucking and slurping at the little bud until you’re crying out his name, hips moving as you climax riding his face.

“George,” you say, the only thing you’re able to say. “Want you, please.”

You’re so desperate to be filled, so painfully aroused that you almost lose it. You know the consequences, as does George but you don’t care at all, too concerned with your need.

George barely even hesitates, slipping open his brown woven belt and pulling down his cords and boxers until his cock, long, hard and perfect is released. You’re seconds away from joining until you jump apart, scrambling for your clothes having been spooked by a noise of the door opening.

The colour drains from your face when you see the intruder starting between you and George, both naked from the waist down though trying to cover yourselves the best you can.

Fred.

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #fred weasley smut #george weasley smut #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #requests

[tenswrld]

get well soon!

haechan x reader, fluff

a/n: sigh ,,,,, when did i become such a big sunflower also idk what this is i think its kinda funny idk haebae is just the sweetest boy

the door to your room bursted open, causing you to jump out of your skin and yelp in fear. the grip you had on your pencil quickly changed into as if you were holding a knife, but you dropped it in relief upon turning around and finding your boyfriend.

“jeez, haechan you scared the shit out of me,” you whined. your eyebrows furrowed at him after taking in his clearly bothered, frantic state. “what’s wrong?”

“so when were you going to tell me?” he asked with pursed lips, sitting himself on the edge of your bed.

“tell you about what?” you treaded carefully, confused about what had him so worked up.

“don’t act like you don’t know,” haechan scoffed, poking his cheek with his tongue in annoyance. “you weren’t gonna tell me about chenle?”

you blinked at him a few time in hopes that he would elaborate on what he was talking about, but quickly caught on to what he was saying. you couldn’t help but laugh loudly at how he was reacting. “oh, did he tell you?”

haechan huffed and gently nudged your knee with his own in an attempt to stop you from laughing. “i seriously don’t find any of this funny.”

giggling, you tried to grab one of his hands, but haechan (who was feeling petty) gently slapped it away. “haechan, you know his crush is harmless. if he felt comfortable enough to tell you about it, i don’t think you need to worry.”

“okay, but he still has a crush on my girlfriend. like, what the fuck? could he seriously not find anyone else?” haechan rambled, letting you grab his hand this time. “and also, he wasn’t even the one to tell me. jisung slipped up about it earlier.”

“okay, well my point is,” you paused to stand in front of him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “i’m dating you. i don’t care that chenle has a crush on me, and we both know he would never do anything stupid. besides, the crush ins’t as serious as you’re making it out to be. it’s always gonna be you.”

you could see all the tension fall from haechan’s shoulders as he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into a hug. “i’m the only person who’s allowed to have a crush on you,” he mumbled into your shirt.

ੈ♡˳

you had thought that haechan had gotten over finding out that chenle had a very small crush on you, but you were unfortunately very wrong.

the two of you were hanging out with the rest of the dreamies at mark’s place today. normally, you were used to haechan displaying his affection for you in front of other people, but he knew his limits and would never go overboard. today, however, you couldn’t help but notice that haechan felt especially full of love and couldn’t seem to help himself from showering that love all over you. whenever chenle walked by, you noticed that haechan would cling onto you a bit closer.

“do you want some?” haechan asked you, offering his small cup of ice cream to you.

you nodded, ready to dip your own spoon in, but haechan beat you to it. he held his spoon, ready with ice cream somehow, up to you mouth and smiled sweetly at you. you completely missed the way he side eyed chenle who was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room.

you gladly ate some of haechan’s ice cream, humming in delight at the flavor. haechan cooed softly at you and used his finger to wipe a drop of ice cream at the corner of your lips before pressing a soft kiss there, making you blush.

you heard a gag from the other side of the room, both of your eyes turning to see chenle looking at you guys with a disgusted expression. “gross. get a room.” he stood up from his seat and left to find jisung, clearly not wanting to third wheel.

you chuckled at his reaction while haechan glared at the back of his head. your boyfriend called after him, wanting to get the last word in. “jealousy is a disease, you know. get well soon, bitch!”

#lmfao genuinely what is this #i thought of this while i was in the bathroom LOL #anyway i just felt silly #lee haechan #haechan fluff #nct haechan #nct dream #NCT #nct 127 #nct fluff #haechan x reader #haechan drabbles #haechan oneshots #lee donghyuck #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck x reader #donghyuck drabbles

[aliengoose]

OK GENLOSS THOUGHTS LETS GO

as lots of people are saying I reckon this episode was supposed to give us an idea of how the show is “supposed” to run, and that’s partly why it was so silly and goofy. the eerier bits were all about things that aren’t “supposed” to happen.

in terms of plot it seems ranboo has been kidnapped by showfall and is being mind-controlled by us as sort of “players”. he comments once or twice about not knowing why he’s doing something or not being in full control, and occasionally appears to become more lucid (a few people have pointed out that the mask flashes at these points). basically ranboo is being used as a videogame character to entertain the masses by showfall media.

i cannot figure sneeg out, he’s clearly not being mind controlled seeing he “cheats” with the scissors and also doesn’t have any mask to suggest he’s under control, plus we don’t get to control him at all. I’m thinking perhaps he was an earlier main character test that made showfall realise they need more control over them.

Somethings up with charlie and idk what. if showfall is going “hey lets get these internet personalities to be our unwilling characters in this game” it would make sense for why he’s got the slime motifs and all that. BUT how can they be sure he’s doing what they want him to? perhaps he is affected by slime the same way sneeg was? maybe showfall figured out a way to use slime to control him? much to think about.

there’s also the possibility that it’s just not that deep but i do think it’s supposed to give the impression that the entire thing is happening in our world and isn’t scripted or anything. that’s why i love the choice to act it all out live, it doesn’t just allow for more interaction, it is literally a live broadcast of an game featuring fun “characters”. I really hope there’s some deeper meaning in that, about the treatment of people as entertainment without thought for their own health and wellbeing, and the way entertainers often have to play a caricature of themselves to appease their audience.

i know a lot of people have been talking about a face reveal in genloss and given the mask is linked to controlling ranboo and they literally cannot take it off right now i see it going one of 3 ways;

1. he takes the mask off and we get a face reveal (doubt)

2. he takes the mask off BUT they’re wearing another mask underneath. seems like something they’d do

3. he doesn’t get the mask off. we lost. ranboo is stuck under the control of showfall media with only short periods of lucidity. ranboo said at one point that we should be left with a feeling of dread. maybe there’s no escape. what’s more terrifying than doing everything right and still being doomed?

ok that’s all i can think of for now sorry it’s a long post but idk how to add a read more on mobile ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. i’ll edit this if i think of anything else i guess?

edit: this is blowing up i have genloss art in my pinned and plans to make more 👀

edit 2: @pinkpuffballdude ‘s tags reminded me!!! i had completely forgotten to talk about sneeg being awake and staring with dead eyes through the whole sleep part. THAT was creepy. It made me think of NPCs to be honest, the way he wasn’t able to do anything but being forced to witness everything happening, not being able to sleep without a bed. I don’t know how to explain it right now and i’ll come back here if i figure it out. BUT he also talks about refusing to do the cooking show which is the main thing that got me thinking he was a past mc who’s been locked away. also aligns with his “the taken” name in The Game.

#genloss #generation loss #ranboo #sneegsnag #charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #i’m honestly still processing this #can’t wait for it to get creepy and gorey tho #hope ranboo is alright too - he seems alright so hopefully just something the doctors can patch up real quick #goose.txt

[lacontroller1991]

A Push in the Right Direction (Ernest Lawrence x GN!Reader)

Main Master List || MISC Master List

Requested by anon: friends to lovers love making with our mans Lawrence okay bye

Summary: Sick and tired of the mutual pining that you and Lawrence have for each other, Oppenheimer decides to take it into his on hands.

Author's Note 1: We really need actual gifs of Josh Hartnett's Lawrence, and when the movie comes out on DVD I intent to provide

Author's Note 2: SO I think this is my first smut written in GN, so if I make a mistake I apologize and I'll fix it

Author's Note 3: This is clearly, clearly, based on Josh Hartnett's Ernest Lawrence and NOT the IRL EOL. If you have a problem, please just scroll away and carry on with your day.

Warnings: 18+, Unprotected sex, penile penetration, friends to lovers, slight discomfort from penetration, language, drinking, orgasm

Word Count: 2.4k

-----------

From the minute you met Ernest Lawrence you knew that he was a man who knew what he wanted. He has a reputation for being passionate in his work but it’s also his way or the highway and maybe that’s what drew you into him initially. Ever since you met him and talked to him, you couldn’t deny that there was a certain chemistry between the two of you, not like you’ve ever acted on it. How could you? He’s always so engrossed in his work that you’re pretty sure you haven’t even seen him go home every night.  Despite thinking that you’re not obvious with your affections towards the physicists, everyone inside and outside of the lab knows. Except him. 

“You know, you’re staring again.” Robert Oppenheimer comments from beside you, martini in his hand as he casually sips on it, his blue eyes staring right ahead to where Lawrence stands, talking to other scientists at the conference reception. 

“Am I really that obvious?” Robert snorts in amusement, turning to you. 

“You can’t be serious right?” 

“I am.” You turn towards Robert, leaning against the bar as he raises an eyebrow at you as if he was doubting your response. Setting his glass down, he quickly glances towards Lawrence, noticing that Lawrence is staring right back, an irritated look on his face. With a smirk, a thought forms in his head. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a keycard, setting it down on the bar and sliding it towards you before leaning in, brushing a strand of your hair out of your face, aware that Lawrence is probably livid at this point. 

“You know, I have those documents in my room if you want to go look at them. I know you were mentioning it earlier.” You roll your eyes at his advance and move to push the keycard away, but he places his hand on yours, keeping it in place.

“Robert. If you know I’m interested in Ernest, why are you trying to flirt with me?” He shakes his head in denial.

“No, no. No expectations. I just want to show you the documents. Do you want to see them?” 

“Yeah, sure.” You smile, taking the room key and start walking away, turning back when you notice that he’s not following you. “Are you coming?” 

He places his hands in his pockets, sneaking a glance at Lawrence who is red in the face, a scowl on his lips. “Give me a minute. I’ll be right up.” You nod in agreement, walking away. Once you’re out of sight, a hand is immediately on Robert’s shoulder, spinning him around to face Lawrence. A fuming Lawrence. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Oppenheimer knows he can get Lawrence fired up, but he didn’t know Lawrence could get this fired up. Pulling out his pipe, he lights it and takes a few puffs. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be dumb. You know I have feelings for them. Why on Earth are you purposely hitting on them?” Lawrence lets go of Robert, crossing his arm and tapping his shoe, irritated that Robert would do that to him, but then again, Robert hits on anyone who gives him the time of the day. 

“They’re in my room looking at documents. Why don’t you give me your room key, I can stay there for the night and you can go to my room and keep them company.” Robert winks, causing Lawrence to blush at the insinuation. 

“Why would I do that? They do not like me like that. We’re friends. Colleagues.” Robert snorts, rolling his eyes at Lawrence’s naiveness.

“Lawrence. They like you. Everyone knows that they like you. Go do something about it.” It takes a moment for Lawrence to hang his head in defeat, pulling out his own room key and handing it to Robert. He doesn’t know how long he’s waited for a chance to admit his feelings to you, but something would always prevent him from doing it. Now there’s nothing. 

“What room?”

“334.”

—————

5 minutes later a knock rapports against the door. Getting up from your seat at the table, you quickly move to the door, swinging it open expecting Robert but seeing Ernest. “Ernest? What are you doing here?” He gently pushes past you and into the room, looking everywhere except you. “Ernest?” 

“What were you going to do with Robert? In here?” 

“Nothing? He said he has the documents I’ve been wanting to look at so he invited me up to his room.” Ernest looks around and spots the table covered in papers, pencil markings all over them.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closes his eyes in embarrassment. This is definitely not how he wanted things to go. “Do you like him?” 

You can tell there's some jealousy just by the way he talks restrained. Normally, you would play dumb, ask him in what way, lead him on, but you’re done playing games. Especially when you can feel the sexual tension in the room. “No.”

His head whips up and turns to you, his eyes on fire with passion and lust. “Good.” He takes two long strides over to you before his hands are on your face, bringing his lips to yours in a heated kiss. Reaching up, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding him close as your lips meld together like the two of you were the last pieces of a missing puzzle. The kiss doesn’t last for much longer before he’s pulling away, looking down at you with a soft smile. “Oppie told me that you like me. Is that true?”

“Oppie told me that everyone knows that I like you. So yeah, yeah it’s true.” You pull him back in for another kiss, this time taking control as you guide him toward the bed, shoving him back and hiking up your pants, climbing on top as he watches in admiration. Dipping your head down, your lips capture his again, this time your hands are loosening his tie and undoing the buttons of his vest while his hands find a home on your hips, pulling you flush against him. 

After managing to get his vest and shirt unbuttoned, you pull away from his lips, pushing the fabric off of him as he helps, his cheeks flushed. Reaching for your own shirt, you untuck it from your pants and lift it up over your head, tossing it to the side, feeling his eyes on your chest. 

“I don’t know what to do from here,” he admits with a slight embarrassment, but if you’re bothered by it, you don’t let it show.

“Why don’t you walk me through it? Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“I’d rather just show you.” He flips you around so that you’re on your back, his body hovering over yours. “If that’s ok.” 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s totally fine.” He smiles softly, sitting back on his knees and working at the buttons of your pants. Raising your hips, you help him take the pants off and leave you completely naked underneath him except for your underwear. Looking down at you, Lawrence blushes at the sight. Sure he’s pictured you naked before, but now? It’s better than he imagined. “See something you like?” Your question interrupts his thoughts as he quickly nods, his hands shakily undo the belt of his pants. Sensing his nerves, you reach up and stop his hands. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I want to. God knows that I really want to. I just don’t want to mess up.” Moving his hands to the side, your hands undo his belt and unzip his pants, causing him to let out a low groan as some of the pressure is released. 

“Just relax. There’s no pressure. Just allow yourself to feel,” you shimmy out from underneath him, getting on your own knees as you reach into the waistband of his briefs, your hand coming in contact with his hard on. His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your hand wrapping around his member. Slowly, you move your hand up and down, thumb occasionally gliding over the head and smearing his precum down his length.

“I can’t wait any longer.” He removes your hand from his briefs before shoving his pants and briefs down and off his legs, pushing you back on the bed. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Looking up at him, you offer a small smile before reaching up and placing your lips on his briefly. “It’s all I’ve dreamed about since I met you.” 

The admission catches him off guard and he lets out a huff of amusement. “I can say the same.” His hand caresses your face as his lips press against yours, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and asking for entrance. His other hand, however, reaches between your bodies and grabs ahold of his member, guiding it towards your entrance. At the feeling of the blunt head pressing against you, you let out a gasp, allowing him entrance to your mouth as he presses in. Pulling his lips away, he looks down at you and frowns upon seeing tears in your eyes. “What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” His thumb brushes the tears away as you shake your head.

“You did nothing wrong. We should’ve just probably used some lube. It just hurts a little.” You smile through the pain, reaching up and brushing his hair out of his forehead. “I just need a minute to get used to you.”

“Yeah, sure,” he leans back down to kiss your face, his hand gently petting your hair in comfort as you relax your body.

“You can move now.” Lawrence makes sure to go slow for the first couple of thrusts, groaning as he meets resistance. He won’t admit it, but it’s harder to keep his composure than he originally thought. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, your hips match tempo with his, allowing him to go deeper, causing you to moan at the sensation. “Faster.”

Nodding his head, his hips start to pick up their pace. The feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you has your toes curling. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, I definitely don’t intend to.” He can’t deny how good you feel wrapped around him. For a brief second he remembers that he’s not in his own hotel room. He remembers that he’s in Oppenheimer’s hotel room, but with the way you’re moaning underneath him has him not caring about the area. He feels a slight beam of sweat across his forehead as he holds his body up above you, careful to not crush you under his weight. The room begins to steam up as your bodies move together, soft touches caressing the other’s skin. Everything in the world feels right. 

Leaning down, Lawrence’s lips find a home on your neck, lightly sucking at the area just under your ear. The feeling of his teeth lightly grazing against your skin causes your breath to hitch in your throat. “That feels so good,” you moan out, eyes fluttering closed as your hips continue to thrust against his while your hands lightly tug at the strands of his hair, earning a moan in response from him. Even from the first time you met Ernest Lawrence, his hair definitely caught your attention. You often fantasize about pulling it between your fingers. Gripping onto it as he goes down on you. Massaging his scalp if he needed some tension relief. Just playing with it while the two of you are alone. It’s one of the many things that drew you to him in the first place. That and his charming, friendly personality. Soaking in the moment, it doesn’t dawn on you that you feel a tension in your abdomen. “Fuck, I need to cum.” 

The sound of your moans and skin slapping against skin has Lawrence picking up his pace as the familiar knot in his abdomen forms. Propping himself up on his forearms, he looks down at you through crooked glasses, his hips snapping into you with rigor. “I need you. I need you so bad. You’re all I dream about at night. I want you to be mine. Completely mine.”

“Ernest!” It’s a broken moan from your lips as your eyes screw shut, your orgasm washing over you in waves as he tries to continue his pace, his hips slightly halting. 

“I love you.” He moans out before thrusting one more time, his spend shooting deep inside of you as he collapses on top, out of breath. After a minute of embracing each other, Lawrence pulls out and lays next to you, dragging you into his arms as your head rests against his chest.

Your hand finds a place on his torso, fingers twirling around the patch of hair right below his navel. “I love you too, you know?” His hand reaches up and cups your face, gently dragging your face to his as he places another kiss to your lips, a smile on both of your faces.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), can I take you on a proper date?” He asks with a hint of humor, thumb brushing along your cheek.

“I would love to.”

—-------

Downstairs in the lobby, Oppenheimer sips on a martini, enjoying the taste of the liquor as Rabi walks up to him with Alvarez on his tail. “I gotta ask Oppie. What on Earth did you say or do to Lawrence to make him that pissed off?” 

Polishing off the rest of the glass, he sets the glass down on the bar and claps Rabi on the back. “I just pushed him in the right direction is all. They were insufferable.”

Rabi motions to the bartender for a round of drinks and hands one to Oppie.“Well, you’re not wrong there. Thank you for ending all of our suffering.”

Looking towards the stairs, Oppie sees you and Lawrence walking down the stairs, hand in hand as a smirk finds a way onto his face. 

“It looks like it worked.” Rabi raises his glass and clinks it against Robert’s. 

“Cheers to that.” Robert smiles in response.

“Cheers.”

#Ernest Lawrence x reader #Ernest lawrence #josh hartnett #reader insert #gender neutral reader #j Robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer #lacontroller1991 #cillian murphy

[mrsnancywheeler]

ommggg i read let me down easy today and i kept re-reading it bc its TOO GOOD AHH !!🦅🦅

it hurt so much but im a whore for angst first, and a human second🫶

just thinking about the reader suffering in silence because she feels guilty for having any negative feelings towards finnick :(( the way she dismisses those feelings bc she thinks that whatever she’s going through is nothing compared to what he’s been through :((

also thinking abt finnick’s slow realization that she’s suffering because of him :(( like the incident at the market is when he began to notice the changes :(( and later when he fully understands how his behavior affected her IT MESSES HIM UP SO BAD

i just know he was remembering his past interactions with reader (where she breaks the glass / when she rejected his money at the pearl necklace stand) AND CRINGING …and it only gets worse when reader spills her guts about what she went through. omg ik he was sick.

another #thougjt i had was how this might mess up the reader for a bit after too #idk (that just might be me tho lmaoo) bc i feel like once you’ve been in that cycle of feeling depressed/insecure for so long it’s hard to snap out of, even with constant reassurance 😔

But maybe that’s just my angsty side talking HAHA

but i loved this fic, 11/10🫶

-🦅

omg yes, literally my favorite thing I've ever written. ik I wrote it, but it's the only thing of mine I reread bc it's like the perfect expression of how I feel, like if I could represent myself in one fic it would be that one if that makes any sense. it's like a concept that always haunts my mind no matter what I'm hyperfixating on maybe because I'm just like melancholy like that 🎀🎀🎀

but thank you so much, I'm literally so glad people are enjoying it because it literally is my own roman empire

yes she wants to be angry, she is angry, but refuses to let herself be because his issues are what she needs to prioritize. how can she be angry when he is constantly suffering? even if it's not so slowly tearing her apart, like a piece of paper sitting in water, she's trying to stay connected for the illusion of it all, to be strong for him.

her being loving isn't new to him, so he isn't thrown off by that, only slightly confused by her waking up earlier then usual. so her gifts have little bearing when he's used to it and he really doesn't want to feel loved right now because he's trying to reject whatever will make him seek comfort. when she starts changing her clothes and makeup, it's different, but he's not responsive because she's always been his pretty girl and always will be, her buying new clothes doesn't make him perceive her any differently or wonder if there's a reason, people try out new things.

when he notices how other peoples interactions with her have changed that's when he really starts to notice, if everyone else perceives her as melancholy then something has to be wrong. even if he's not quick to point the finger back to himself. he tries gifts, maybe she wouldn't buy something because she wanted him to do it, some sort of attention, but it's not big enough part of the issue to have any bearing on the effects it's now had on her. the girl rotting depression era shall we say. eventually through that, what people say to him, self-reflection he gains full consciousness of what he's been doing, how he's been hurting the person he loves so much. and the guilt is incomprehendable.

how could he be so selfish? so closed off as not to process all the clear cries for help? thinking about how he was getting annoyed, feeling like she was being moody when she insisted on doing the dishes until the dish broke. how she ran out into the ocean, in the rain without a care to regain some sense of composure, composure to try and make him happy. then the necklace thing, how could he miss her clearly trying just to be with him, be near him, have the interactions with him that he was giving to the girl at the shop instead? he was so unresponsive to the emotional needs he just assumed it to be a material need that he was willing to give. so when she rejects the money it just doesn't compute, to buy it she needs it, and then she tries to send the message that buying something isn't what she's asking for but he misses it completely. he gets snappy and it snaps her.

so when he's finally talking to her, he needs her to tell him the truth, the nuances because he's been so blind to all of it. he needs to know how he hurt her and it really is like a full wake up call. he can't let his own trauma consume him, allowing it to traumatize her in different ways. like when she mentions her getting to the point of just wanting him to want her body if he wouldn't want her because that's how people perceive him, that's what was hurting him, but he inadvertently made her feel that way. it breaks him to think that he did that to her, that he hurt his girl that way. then the idea that she would have let him cheat on her, she would've picked being with him over her own well-being, well she did, and he doesn't deserve that. he can't fathom how he could be with someone who loves him so blindly as to choose being with a ghost of him over not having him at all, when she deserves so much better. when he has been so callous with such a precious kind of love. or the fact that he even made it seem like he had interest in anyone but her.

there will be a fluffy, smutty requested sequel but readers issues afterwards will be lightly touched upon in it. but yes, she would have to spend so much time mending her relationship with herself afterwards. he's totally on hand and knee trying to make it up to her, to prove how much he loves and needs her, to give the attention she deserves. but she's still paranoid about cheating, insecure, scared, even if she tries to mask it. but he knows. he could, and does, spend hours praising her, telling her how pretty she is, how she's the only one, how sorry he is, how much he adores her, but it doesn't stop the nagging voice in the back of her head. she tries to hide it but she's clingier and he's okay with that, she needs him more.

but yes there's lots of long term effects the incident has on there relationship. and they have to try and navigate that together.

thank you pookie, I love your thoughts sm 💋💋💋💋💋💋

#wanda 💋 #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #🦅 anon

[hotmessmaxpress]

Sliding into your DMs for the OF au 🫡 Soooo, they obviously like each other physically. But can they communicate about what they like in bed? Like, are there things that maybe especially Marc does or doesn't feel comfortable doing (because of his job and stuff) and then they talk about it and Vale is all caring and stuff and Marc feels at home with him?

Vale calls him a slut once in bed.

It’s clearly directly out of some porno Vale has seen (Vale has decades of porn-watching under his belt, something that is slightly intimidating and also hilarious to Marc). He’s obviously trying to be sexy; Marc does love it when Vale is dirty and runs his mouth, so it’s not necessarily surprising that they have arrived at this point.

It’s decidedly un-sexy to Marc, though.

He jerks his head back away from where Vale is kissing him, and inadvertently smacks his head against the headboard. 

“Ow! Fuck!” he gasps, grabbing the back of his head. 

Vale hisses in sympathy, gently cradling Marc’s face in his hands and turning his head to look at him. He clearly doesn’t find any blood (Marc didn’t hit himself that hard) but the moment is still broken. Marc winces as Vale adjusts so he’s sitting beside Marc, and he continues checking him over. 

“What happened?” he asks.  

Marc winces.

“Please don’t call me names.”

Vale’s eyes widen, and Marc can tell he’s immediately feeling guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, immediately.

Marc tucks himself against Vale. He needs to be touching him when they have this conversation, and he’d prefer not to have to look his boyfriend in the eye as he admits these things.

“I’ve only ever been called a slut and a whore by people who are angry with me or being creepy. Mostly it’s from men who try to get me to do things and get rejected– then they call me a whore or other mean names. I don’t like it. I don’t want you to ever call me that.”

Vale rubs Marc’s arm, holding him close, and presses a kiss to his head. 

“Sorry,” Marc says as an afterthought, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he might be disappointing Vale. Maybe he could get used to it, he thinks, if it would make Vale happy. He opens his mouth to voice the thought but Vale speaks first. 

“Thank you for telling me. I won’t ever call you that again, amore. Is there anything else you don’t want me to say? Or anything you want me to say?”

Marc is quiet for a moment. 

“I like it when you tell me nice things. I like it when you call me pretty and tell me I’m perfect. I like to be good for you. I like it when you say I’m yours.”

He truly just wants to be a good boy for Vale. He hopes that Vale won’t be disappointed with him.

He feels him smile against his hair. 

“You are a good boy for me,” Vale says. “You’re beautiful. You’re perfect.”

He kisses his forehead again, and Marc wiggles closer in satisfaction. 

“Thank you,” he says, quietly. 

“You’re mine,” Vale says. “It’s my job to keep you happy.”

Marc finally looks up at Vale again, and Vale presses a kiss to his lips. 

The moment that was ruined earlier picks up again, and pretty soon Marc has Vale on his back and his dick down his throat.

He looks down Vale’s skinny torso to meet his eyes, where his head is thrown back against a pillow. 

“Fuck, Marc,” Vale groans. 

Marc bobs his head, using his hands to pump the base of Vale’s cock that he isn’t reaching with his mouth. He swallows as much as he can around Vale’s cock, willing his gag reflex down. Marc doesn’t actually have that much experience with blowjobs; he is actually less experienced in in-person sex than Vale is. 

“You’re so perfect. I love your perfect little throat. You’re choking on me and you’re still doing so well,” Vale encourages. 

The praise goes straight to Marc’s cock, and he whines around Vale and rocks his hips against the bed. Vale seems to take notice of how he’s affecting Marc, and he continues to run his mouth. 

“Look at you, humping the mattress. Are you going to get off on sucking me off? You’re so perfect for me,” he coos. “Such a sexy, beautiful boy. So many men have seen you, but only I get to watch you like this. I’m the only one who gets to see your perfect mouth wrapped around my cock.”

Marc whines and picks up the pace. He accidentally takes Vale in too deep, and pulls off with a choked little gag. He looks up at Vale with watery eyes. 

He bows his head to suck Vale’s cock again, but Vale stops him with a hand on his cheek. 

“You are so beautiful,” he says, looking directly into Marc's eyes. It makes Marc want to cry a little bit, seeing how earnest Vale is.

Marc thrusts his hips against the bed again, and Vale laughs. He gently guides Marc’s mouth back onto his cock, and Marc resumes sucking with renewed vigor.

Vale moves his hand, and Marc grips his wrist. He guides Vale’s hand to the back of his head, and groans as Vale tangles his fingers in his hair. 

Marc can’t control his thrusts against the bed. His cock is too hard, and the praise from Vale has drained the brains right out of him. He’s close, and he whines and picks up the pace. 

At this point he’s basically holding Vale in his mouth while he focuses on his own release.

“That’s it. Come for me, Marc. Rub yourself off. You’re so perfect, so beautiful.”

Marc thrusts one, two, three more times before he’s shooting cum across the bedsheets with a cry. 

He sucks Vale’s cock deep into his throat, and Vale holds Marc’s head in place as he shoots his own cum down Marc’s throat. Marc feels Vale’s cock pulse as he comes, and he groans and sucks him through it. 

Marc crawls his way back up the bed, flopping against Vale.

“Okay?” he asks, voice rough from Vale’s cock in his throat. 

“Perfect,” Vale says gently, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

#marc is like 'oh no what if vale doesn't think I'm sexy anymore :(' #and vale is like 'this is the hottest most beautiful fucking man i've ever known and if he ever leaves i'll kms' #they're so nasty for each other lmao #thank you for the ask! #mm93 #vr46 #onlyfans au #motogp ask

[cocrante]

Thinking of Haitham as an asexual character who, at some point in his relationship with Kaveh, begins to feel inadequate because he understands that his partner deserves a more intimate connection that he cannot provide. It's simply not something he can explain. But he wants to give Kaveh more. There are moments when he imagines sneaking up behind him and passionately kissing his neck or sharing long nights of love with him. But they are only thoughts and unfortunately, they remain just that.

He also finds it difficult to explain it to Kaveh, even though Kaveh is much more understanding than he had imagined, but he still wants to give him a logical explanation. Tell him why he can't, if there's a reason behind it.

What Haitham knows for sure is that he definitely likes Kaveh. He really likes him. He likes him more than anyone else. He wouldn't want to see him with anyone else but him. He loves him, and this feeling is very clear to him, but he's afraid that if he can't go beyond simple gestures of affection, Kaveh might get tired of him one day, and he wouldn't blame him for it. For this reason, Haitham is reflecting on whether to let him go or to continue holding him captive in a relationship that can't give him anything but some gentle caresses and tender kisses.

However, Kaveh had realized his partner's change in mood. He had made it clear to himself earlier that it would not be easy, but it would not prevent him from wanting a relationship with his roommate. He loved him, and they loved each other. Kaveh was also certain of this.

Of course, the intimate component was missing. He felt that thrill down his spine when he touched him, kissed him, and always hoped for more. But everything always ended too soon...

He was not bitter or sorry, he did not want explanations or anything else. He was fine with it. If the problem was that he needed time, he would grant it to him. If there were no problems, they would continue like this. He would not make a scene; he had told him that all he needed was to hold hands.

But one day, Haitham talked to Kaveh about this, making him aware of his thoughts, as it was right to do. Kaveh deserved more than anyone to know how things were going and, above all, to be aware that they probably wouldn't be able to go much further.

Haitham spoke to him clearly about his feelings, what he felt for him, the fact that they were good together, and how his soul became lighter in his presence. But if he needed more, then it was right to let him go.

Kaveh's eyes filled with tears for a second, and with a broken voice, he asked him, "Are we breaking up?"

"Only if you want to" Haitham replied, trying to hold his confused gaze.

"Why should I leave you?" he asked again, wiping away a tear that was running down his face.

"Because I don't want to trap you in a relationship where you can't have what you deserve" Haitham tried to explain.

"I don't feel trapped," Kaveh said calmly, taking his hand, stroking the back with his thumb. "I'm fine even like this, remember?"

Haitham lowered his gaze, covering Kaveh's hand with the other. "What if we never have an intimate relationship? Would you still be okay with it?"

Kaveh remained silent for a moment, looking at their intertwined hands. "Sometimes I would like to feel more, it's true, but I prefer things the way they are rather than not having you in my life anymore" another tear streaked his face. "If you need time, I will wait for you, and if it's not time that you need, I'll still be by your side."

Haitham looked at him as he wiped away his tears, making him cry was definitely the last thing he wanted. He didn't imagine Kaveh's feelings were that strong; at that moment, he felt guilty only for doubting Kaveh's love for him. Haitham then placed a hand on Kaveh's damp cheek, wiping away another tear. "I'm sorry" he kissed his wet cheek. "For what?" Kaveh asked, wiping the other eye. "For making you cry" he stroked his hair, putting a lock behind his ear. "For thinking you wanted to leave" he lowered his gaze, searching for his hand. "And for doubting your love for me" he showed a small smile.

"You're an idiot," Kaveh said with a trembling voice, then hugged him, laying his head on his shoulder. "Talk to me about these problems next time," he asked, "I want to help you."

Haitham hugged him back, kissing his head. "I will."

<< previous

#📌 : wip #kavetham #haikaveh #genshin alhaitham #genshin kaveh #alhaitham #kaveh #asexual #asexual alhaitham #genshin impact

[queeoretician]

Just finished re-listening to Nona, and I have to know - what the ever-loving fuck did Jod want with G—'s arm? My first thought was that it had something to do with the dead man's switch for the suitcase nuke, but he mentions that he still has plans for it, in his narration to Alecto/Harrow after the bombs have gone off, so there's something else there. I feel like it's tied in with something about G1deon and Pyrrha being different from the other lyctor/cavalier pairs we see.

Speaking of which, there are a good few of those differences - here are the ones that come to mind:

G1deon's thanergy-void ability that lets him break Harrow's bone wards. I don't think this is it - to me it feels like it's more in the vein of Mercymorn's one-touch supernatural anatomy abilities, within the "normal" range of freaky abilities that lyctors have.

G1deon being physically imposing, unlike any(?) other necromancer we come across. I feel like there are some connections here that are eluding me right now.

The big one, Pyrrha's individuality surviving lysis. This by itself wouldn't make sense to me, but maybe it ties in with G1deon's buffness, that somehow the physical basis for their ascension was atypical?

On that last note, something else that stood out to me through Nona is that Pyrrha and G1deon's necro/cav relationship dynamic seems very different from the others we see (not just among Jod's original disciples but also with the contemporary pairs). At one point Pyrrha mentions filtering G1deon's brain fluid while working on the transference/winnowing trial, with the only other subject of that test being Cristabel rather than one of the other necromancers. In another passage Pyrrha talks about working on the Tomb's wards with Cassiopeia and Mercymorn - her plus two necromancers.

This had me wondering if Pyrrha was also a necromancer originally, somehow - but Palamedes's explanation to Nona of why she isn't affected by the blue madness undermines that hypothesis. But that aside, Pyrrha was definitely involved in what I would think of as "necromancer stuff" in a way we don't see from anyone else except Camilla (because the Sixth House are nerds). But maybe my expectations are off base because we're introduced to the necro/cav relationship through the eyes of Gideon, who is aggressively disinterested in necromancy...

Speaking of nerd shit, what kind of people were Jod's crew before the bombs and the Resurrection? He refers to them at one point as "a cop and six different kinds of nerd" and "two scientists and an engineer and a nun and a lawyer and a banker and a cop and an artist," referring to A—, M—, G—, the nun (Cristabel), C—, A—'s brother (Alfred), P—, and N— (he doesn't seem to have included himself in that tally). The narration clearly references all of their roles individually except G—'s, so I would guess he was the engineer, with the scientists being M— (medical) and A— ("the glycerol-6 genius"). But as best I can recall we don't really hear anything about G—'s role apart from being Jod's most steadfast supporter and carrying the suitcase nuke - it comes across as though Jod took him rather for granted. I wonder if Pyrrha remembers this and holds it against Jod along with all his post-Resurrection shit? I'd love to learn more about this in Alecto - I wanna know everything about our problematic fave ex-cop ex-spook genderfuck parent figure and her grief and her love...

But back to my earlier line of thinking, after the Resurrection Jod roped his disciples into a war of vengeance against the descendants of the generation ship, and defense against the Resurrection Beasts, and at a very tentative guess it seems like only Pyrrha of the original eight would have been predisposed towards that kind of combative life (jokes about academia aside). But at the same time she seems to have stepped into a research-y role that we don't see from any of the other original cavaliers (with the caveat that our info is very limited and Alecto could upend this entirely).

All this is to say, I Have Questions about Pyrrha and G1deon and who they were pre-Resurrection, but right now I don't have any coherent theory beyond "I think there's something going on here."

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #john gaius #gideon the first #pyrrha dve #rambling late night speculation

[essayofthoughts]

canonically, is percy the type of person that’s too embarrassed/stuffy to say “i love you” or show pda to vex in public?

You seem to be asking for a straightforward ruling and sadly, I cannot give you one because you're assuming the factors in play and assuming, so far as I can tell, wrongly.

Percy is a very private person. He's hesitant to show affection to anyone, even Keyleth - his best friend and one of the only people he reliably accepts hugs from in the whole group. Even Vex's kisses to his cheek make him blushy and stuttery before they get together, but it's not really about him being embarrassed or stuffy - it's upbringing and trauma.

The man was tortured, remember. He has every reason to be incredibly iffy about touch, especially non-consensual touch, from relative strangers and people he doesn't like or trust.

Additionally, Percy has said before "We didn't touch in my family," and Taliesin has elaborated that he was kind of riffing on a British/Prussian idea of stoicism and not showing affection much even within family. Percy isn't really that opposed to physical affection, he's just more used to verbal expression of affection and gift-giving, and was probably taught that needing physical affection was childish - everyone else's liking for it (aside, notably, from Vex) probably contributed to his feeling like the only adult in the room.

He rarely initiates hugs - usually only when he's drunk or highly emotional or both and usually with Keyleth - and rarely initiates physical affection at all - other exceptions being things like the kiss with Vex - and has been known to recoil from physical affection with certain people - Tiberius after the Slayer's Take; one can point out Percy was recovering from injuries, but he did also accept Keyleth hugs then despite that. We also know that when in a bad mood with someone - Keyleth, after he got blinded because of her - he can be more standoffish, because Percy is a prickly bastard sometimes, especially when he feels hurt or betrayed.

I mean, why wouldn't he? The most significant time he was hurt and betrayed, his personal tutor betrayed his whole family and he was tortured. What started out as probably a mild teenage defensiveness has been drastically amplified by severe trauma.

Further, Percy has his own self-worth issues; combined with his upbringing he is very unlikely to impose his desires on others especially where they relate to affection. It gets easier the longer and better he knows someone - hence his increased ease hugging Keyleth over the course of the campaign, and how he's perfectly comfortable going arm in arm with Vex at several points.

And tying back to what I said earlier - Percy is fine with verbal expressions of affection; it's actually the thing he's most comfortable with - and even sometimes tips his hand with, because he can be so verbally expressive. Who here remembers "Never forget you're my favourite and I'm so sorry"? Verbal affection is far and away what Percy is most comfortable with, closely followed by gift-giving. His awkwardness around physical affection isn't stuffiness or embarrassment - it's his upbringing and his trauma. He gets more affectionate as it goes on and while his sense of privacy means he clearly has some ideas of what is and isn't appropriate - "This is a deeply inappropriate convincing mena-mechanism and it is working" when Vex is holding his face in front of everyone to convince him to come with her to Elysium - he also has no compunctions being sickeningly cute with her verbally and kissing her in public - remember the debate over who gets death ward? And the fact that, when told to "Just kiss already" both Laura and Taliesin just went "we do"?

So, TL;DR: It's not embarrassment or stuffiness that makes Percy hesitant with physical affection, it's his upbringing and trauma, and over time, he gets increasingly at ease with it when it's people he likes and trusts. Verbal affection, meanwhile, is absolutely one of his most preferred ways to express affection, and he is absolutely unstinting in it.

He's never going to be unable to say "I love you" to Vex in public - when fighting Thordak he goes out of his way to reassure Vex that of all the things he regrets, being with her and showing his love for her is not one of those things. Percy is deeply considerate of his loved ones (if not always the most reliable about it with others and people he's drifted from, see: Cassandra) and, knowing her self-worth issues, he is never going to let Vex doubt he loves her. He may have compunctions about certain forms of publicly shown affection, due to his upbringing and the etiquette he was raised with and his sense of privacy, but he also knows how easily some of that could, for Vex, butt up against her feeling unwanted or like something to be ashamed of and hidden, and he will never ever contribute to those feelings. Percy loves Vex, is aware of her self-worth issues and the trauma she gained from Syngorn, and will do everything in his power to reassure her and help her feel loved. Even if that means he feels uncomfortable - before Umbrasyl, the soot facepaint, Percy refusing until Vex draws a line down his face and his only response is "I feel violated but thank you".

Percy has his hangups, but he will always end up doing all he can to set those aside if he thinks they'll hurt Vex. He loves her and the last thing he wants to do is hurt her.

#percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #perc'ahlia #vox machina #anonymous #ask #living up to my username #cr meta

[sneezemonster15]

Chapter 698 isn't the only chapter that is a love confession. The first love confession between Sasuke and Naruto is clearly shown in the first arc itself. First arc guys.

First.

The whole protecting each other and saving each other back and forth is pretty consistently shown in the first arc and it serves to develop their dynamic.

It is a statement of power, ability and evolution in strength. But it has an underlined emotion as well. So much so that it becomes the central emotion of this entire arc. To be motivated to protect your most precious person.

Sasuke protects Naruto from the bad guys without compunction and teases him on top of it. Lol. It hurts Naruto's ego and solidifies his resolve to quit whining and be courageous. Sasuke, as is his wont, gives Naruto the inspiration he needs to be the strongest ninja ever, closer to his goal of becoming hokage.

Fast forward.

Lol, Naruto was so proud that he came to Sasuke's rescue given it was Sasuke coming to his earlier. But Naruto is Naruto, my sweet idiot.

Poor Sasuke is so exacerbated, lol. Although, there's just absolutely no one else Sasuke talks to like this, openly and without reservation. Yelling and swearing, veins popping. Anyway.

And then what happens at the end?

Sasuke comes to his rescue again and this time, Naruto isn't able to believe it. What's the difference between before when Sasuke rescues him and here?

Simple. He sacrificed his life. Naruto thought Sasuke was just showing off before, or was just trying to rile him up, but now he knows that Sasuke wouldn't have gone this far just to tease him.

This boy with a very clear objective of his own, gave up his life for a boy who was clueless about Sasuke's own feelings. But now Naruto knows that Sasuke cares for him very deeply. They were both secretly harbouring complicated, inexplicable feelings for each other but couldn't really figure it out. But this arc makes them figure it out at least partly. They both finally realize how much they really care for each other. Sasuke remembers all those moments regarding his feelings for Naruto (including the 'accidental' kiss) at his moment of death.

Sasuke says - I hated you.

What he really means is - I loved you.

Naruto thinks - I hated you too.

But we know he never did.

So what he really means is - I loved you too.

And this is the first arc. Like it's so obvious they couldn't possibly have hated each other when one of them evolved his kekkei genkai and then died for the other. And the other one also unleashed a new beastly strength after this event that tied up the conclusion of this arc. They might not have known the full extent of how exactly they care for each other, at least, not in the case of Naruto. But at this point, when he almost lost Sasuke, he realizes that he felt quite deeply about Sasuke all along as well.

Hate doesn't really mean hate here. Kishi couldn't have made them say 'love'. And it's understandable that it would be a little too awkward for preteen boys to have said I love you to each other. So this is actually subtext. This is what we get and it fits.

And all this is why this panel below makes sense.

So awkward. Lol.

They just admitted their feelings for each other to themselves and each other. This is where their feelings of deep care and affection for the other are solidified. And so now they are clueless as to how to go about it. At this point, they are still far away from giving their feelings a name. But the rest is pretty clear to them. That all that animosity and rivalry between them before this was just smokescreen to hide their true feelings from each other and themselves.

And after this, something shifts between them slightly. Now, Naruto doesn't get so much mad at Sasuke teasing him but takes it in good, gamely spirit.

They even flirt. And Sasuke acknowledges him and his strength freely.

So cute. And so cleverly written. Kishi ain't foolin' around. He made them kiss in the third chapter, right at the beginning of the First Arc, right after he introduced Sasuke and then made them say the kid version of 'I Love you' at the end of the arc, at the highest emotional beat in the entire arc, everything built up to it. Heh. That's how you write an arc.

Yeah it's not a mystery. Sasuke and Naruto love each other. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

#sns #naruto #sasuke #sasunaru #narusasu #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #naruto meta

[pockyteau]

AN APPLE A DAY

✩ chishiya x reader where home is where the heart is, but also where apples are too

✩ a/n - finally using tumblr so i thought i'd post some of my oneshots here!

You and Chishiya have shared an apartment for a little over a month now, the unit itself cosy and convenient for the both of you to commute to your respective destinations. The two of you have fallen into a comfortable routine since, alternating between household chores each week for fairness' sake. 

These chores, aside from the actual purchasing of groceries, include the task of either you or Chishiya writing up a grocery list of the items your pantry is missing - and this week, the task has fallen upon you. 

The two of you now stand by the grocery store's fruit stall, while Chishiya glances over your shoulder to see the notepaper you had scribbled a list out onto the night before. You hear the teasing hum reverberate in his throat before he speaks. 

"I see we need apples." 

"Shut up," you grumble. When Chishiya begins to laugh, you jab his shoulder in protest. "At least apples are good for you. An apple a day keeps the doctor away, you know."

"Oh, so you want me to stay away?" Chishiya smirks, easing the grocery list out of your hands. He scans over the rest of the items scribbled onto the notepaper, his smirk growing wider as he reads the word 'apples' written three times over at various stages of the grocery list. To be honest, you can barely recall writing the thing - you had been dozing off writing your final papers, and in a state of lucidity had recalled your empty fridge. 

And apparently, your lack of apples. 

Chishiya shrugs and begins to place a week's worth of apples into your cart, chuckling when you lightly shove him and tell him that he couldn't possibly stay away for that many apples-worth. You sigh and begin returning the fruit to the stand; your blonde 'doctor' simply tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, reminding you to sleep earlier tonight as he reaches for a pear. You can't help but smile at the indifference in his tone, for the way his touch lingers against the side of your cheek tells you just the opposite. It doesn't bother you that Chishiya's affection for you is quiet - you had come to find comfort in the small pieces of his heart, hidden between warm gazes and the gentle reminders to take care of yourself.

He starts to help you put the apples back, taking the fruit cupped in your hands from you and placing it carefully on top of the apple pile. As he does this he muses that yes, he wouldn't be able to stay away that long; no doubt you would eventually appear in his hospital, wasting away from sleep deprivation and malnutrition, and quite frankly he didn't need another patient on his hands.   

"I take back what I said earlier. Stay away as long as you'd like," you declare, and he snorts when you begin to scoop the apples back into your cart.

-

Chishiya is there when you are up late again, squinting at your computer screen as your curtains begin to soak up moonlight. 

"It's late," he says. He leans around the doorway to your room, one hand on the doorframe. He looks tired, clearly weary from his shift at the hospital. You feel a stab of guilt for making him have to remind you to sleep instead of resting himself, and resolve to make it up to him somehow tomorrow. 

"I'll finish up in an hour or so," you promise. He eyes you skeptically. He knows this is a lie - you will most likely be up until the sun rises. Many a time you have found blankets draped over your shoulders, your computer shut with a note reminding you to eat a proper breakfast pasted over it. Chishiya pretends he doesn't know what you're talking about when asked about it, but you know for sure that the notepaper is from the campus notebook he keeps on the coffee table.

You smile, hoping to reassure him. "Go get some rest, Shuntaro. You must be tired." 

"That would make two of us," he points out dryly, but disappears from your doorway nevertheless. You hear his footsteps softly moving about the apartment as you return to your papers, suppressing a yawn. You wonder if it's too late for caffeine, briefly recalling the new coffee machine you'd bought on a whim. It had taken a while to convince Chishiya, who is anti-coffee, that the purchase had been a good one. 

"You can make matcha tea with it too," you'd pointed out, and his complaints turned to curiosity when you'd presented him with the machine catalogue.   

The blonde returns a few moments later, waving away your protests as he places a round apple on your desk. 

"Here," he says, looking at you pointedly as he pushes the apple forward with his index finger. "Since I know you're not going to sleep anyway, you may as well eat."

You blink at him, bemused, but he offers no further explanation besides a raised brow and a smug: "It's too late to drink coffee."

You swat at him, his lips curling into a wider smirk. As always, he is able to predict your thought process down to a T. "You're despicable," you laugh, but you press a kiss to his cheek before he leaves your room, thanking him in a whisper (which he dismisses, saying the proper way to thank him would be to not die). 

His footsteps eventually recede, and you are now left with the apple. 

You pick up the apple and turn it over in your hands, watching the way the soft light of your lamp shifts across its red skin. It's a sweet gesture, unusual for someone with Chishiya's nature. A smile finds its way to your lips as you recall what you'd said to Chishiya at the fruit stall, insisting he stay away from you as you'd piled apples into your cart. 

You suppose he really won't stay away, then.

-

Apples begin to appear all over your apartment.

You find the little red fruit waiting on the breakfast table after Chishiya has left for the hospital on the day of yet another final exam, or sitting on your nightstand when you are up late again. The apples, crisp and sweet, earn themselves a special place in your heart; the fruit becomes almost precious to you, a wordless but sweet means for Chishiya to reach out to you in his own way. They make your apartment feel like a real home.

So you happily accept the increase in apples around your shared apartment, occasionally teasing Chishiya about his sudden love for the red fruit. Chishiya pretends he's paving his way to a discount on apples; you suppose the owner of the fruit stall is getting used to the two of you too, by the way he greets you and Chishiya as you enter the store. Instead of calling his bluff you kiss the blonde gently on his cheek, the warm fondness for him in your heart almost overwhelming. 

While Chishiya brings home an abundance of apples, you begin to return the gesture in a different way. You start frequenting the bakery across from your apartment complex, the air in the store as warm and sugary as the employee who works the register (who, by now, also knows you by name). You pick out desserts and pastries baked with apple to give to Chishiya, playing to the blonde's secret sweet tooth; golden chiffon cakes topped with apple slices, apple danishes sticky with honey. You felt that this exchange, with your sugary twists of golden pastry and fruit and Chishiya's plain apples, seemed to suit the two of you perfectly. Plus, it was a great way to trick Chishiya into developing a liking for the same desserts you did - you wouldn't mind an increase in apple tarts around the apartment, either.

"If I have to eat all these apples, you do too." You would insist, pressing a paper bakery bag into his hands, then grin when he sighs and reluctantly takes the pastry from you.

And aside from the fruit stalls and bakeries, you couldn't forget the grocery list, either - the square of paper was now always headed, without fail, with the word 'apple' written three times over in Chishiya's terrible doctor's scrawl. 

-

"Shuntaro, it's super late." 

Chishiya pushes hair back from his forehead, dark rings visible for once beneath his eyes. It surprises you to see the blonde look so tired, when he's normally so composed. You recall the night shifts he's been taking the past few days at the hospital, wondering exactly how much sleep he's had this week. "Maybe you should to go to bed."

"I should be telling you the same thing," he says. His voice is slightly rough from fatigue, although his words still manage to mantain an amused quality. He is disinterested in your concern; even though the two of you have been living together for some time now, you know that in some ways, Chishiya is still used to being alone.

"I'm not sleeping until you do," you say adamantly. The blonde sighs and turns to you wearily, his computer screen flickering before him and an array of papers spread over his desk. Medical reports, you presume, although you admittedly know shocking little about Chishiya's occupation. 

"It's going to be a while." He sifts through the documents with one hand, raising the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You shouldn't have stayed up as long as you already have. There's no point in compromising both of our sleep."

You fall silent, pressing your lips together. Chishiya turns back at you knowingly through half-lidded eyes, head tilted despite his weariness. Choosing to disregard his words, you step carefully into his room and gently kiss his forehead, resting your hands on his shoulders. "I'm not sleeping, Shuntaro," you repeat, slightly softer than the first time. "The burden of one is the burden of all, right?" 

Chishiya snorts, automatically leaning back into your touch. "That's ridiculous." 

"It's righteous, that's what it is." You grin. "Look, I'm going to make some hot chocolate. Do you want some?" 

He shakes his head, but you make up your mind to prepare two cups anyway, pattering into the kitchen to find the blue and white ceramic mugs you had bought when you'd moved in. All the mugs you'd brought from home were terribly chipped, but while you'd protested that it gave them character, Chishiya had silently added 'new mugs' to the shopping list. 

The steam from the drinks create soft clouds in the air, the warmth settling over your hands as you take both mugs by the handles. You briefly note to yourself to add cinnamon to the shopping list, having not found any in the pantry to add to the hot chocolate. 

On your way out of the kitchen, your gaze lands on the fruit bowl.  

Chishiya doesn't look up as you slide the white mug onto his desk, careful to avoid the various documents scattered over it. The other mug, the faded blue, remains in your hand as you place a shiny red apple beside the blonde's computer. Chishiya blinks, finally glancing curiously over from his computer screen.

"I know you're not supposed to eat before sleeping," you gesture to the apple with your free hand, "but just in case, okay?"

Chishiya raises his brows and you see his tense expression ease slightly, amusement evident in the smirk that plays across his lips. He closes his eyes for a moment, before reaching for the mug of hot chocolate. 

"Aren't you thoughtful," he hums, leaning back in his chair to take a sip. His eyes drift to the apple, and he taps the fruit with his other hand teasingly. "Well. While I am a stickler for rules about apples at night, I think I can make an allowance just this once." 

You laugh, lifting your own mug of hot chocolate to your lips. "Shut it. I'm never bringing you apples again."

He chuckles, taking another sip of his hot chocolate. "I'm devastated. Traitorous, that's what you are." He then pauses, tilting his mug thoughtfully. "Shall I add cinnamon to the grocery list?"

"Mhm. I think we might need more cocoa powder too."

"Right."

-

You wake up the next morning to the sound of the apartment door opening and closing, followed by the quiet click of the lock. You find you are swaddled in a warm blanket, your two mugs of hot chocolate lined up neatly on Chishiya's desk. His chair is empty and last night's mess of documents is gone. You yawn, remnants of sleep still blurring your vision. Where is he, anyway? You recall the shuffling downstairs - ah, right - and realise the door just now must have been him leaving for the hospital. 

You sleepily make your way downstairs, collecting the mugs and placing them carefully into the sink. Your coffee machine calls out to you enticingly; you search for another mug to make your morning beverage, blearily taking the milk from the fridge after locating a glass and setting both items onto the counter.

But then you register, with surprise, the little red fruit positioned right beside your coffee machine.  

Something folded and crinkling sits beneath it, a hint of grey letters peering through the paper. You utter a soft laugh as you slide the piece of campus notepaper from under the apple, taking in Chishiya's penciled note.

Don't drink coffee on an empty stomach, it reads. It's bad for you. 

You fold the note back up, tucking it into the space between the counter and your coffee machine. There's no harm in doing what he says for once, you suppose. 

The apple glints in the morning sunlight before you pick it up and take a bite, munching thoughtfully on it as you make a note to visit the bakery in the afternoon. The last time you'd been there they'd advertised apple crumble, and you'd been hoping to buy some for you and Chishiya to share.    

The apples mean you're not staying away, either. 

#chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #chishiya #alice in borderland #aib #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fluff #chishiya shuntaro x you #chishiya x y/n #chishiya oneshot

[icarusbetide]

the time my friend argued that jefferson would be a raging capitalist today

questions along the vein of "would this founding father be a democrat or a republican", etc. etc. are impossible to answer for a lot of reasons - 18th century politics don't match up nicely with our idea of left or right. even if we really really dumb it down to big gov, small gov; manufacturing vs. farming; it gets complicated. throw in modern issues and it's a whole other deal entirely. and obviously if they were resurrected and dropped into this world today they would be so overwhelmed and irrelevant it doesn't even matter.

but as someone who believes environment has a huge impact on people, i do wonder what they would be like if they were born and raised in today's world. how many political convictions or personality traits are going to translate directly?

my fellow history geek who studies economics had a really interesting argument about hamilton and jefferson. (all of this is based off of the assumption that they were born and raised in the modern era. this was a stupid conversation we had while procrastinating, don't take it too seriously!)

Hamilton:

obviously based on history, the first thing i said is that hamilton would be a wall street capitalist dude. but my friend said that you could make a (simple, rough) argument that his economic policies were radical for the time, moving away from the existing more mercantile structure. if we're going by solely what's considered radical today, it's a different picture. and he made the point that hamilton had a focus on energetic, involved government - very clearly clashing with fiscal conversative values of free markets and reduced debt, etc. so even if we translated him as a capitalist, it wouldn't be purely fiscal libertarian/conservative.

he wasn't by any means a destitute rags to riches story, but he did face quite a lot of early trauma and prejudice. illegitimacy and being west indian aren't as stigmatized in today's world - but if he still goes through similar experiences in a modern context, in a world less bound to enlightenment ideals? my friend (again over simplistically, he wants me to emphasize that) said "okay. let's say we translate that struggle to him being raised by a single mom and a deadbeat dad, with an immigrant status? he faces the problems in the existing structures, maybe the foster system? and if we accept that he might have had feelings for john laurens, that's probably going to affect him heavily; in today's world i can see him being more of a left-leaning person politically."

we both hesitantly agreed that given some of his qualities, childhood experience, etc. the fanfics that depict a modern hamilton to be at least liberal might not be too off? he'd still be a realist, wary of perceived demagogues, etc. and always fighting on twitter. my friend very strongly made the case that "just because he created and backed a capitalist financial system in the 1700s doesn't mean he would be right-wing now. simplifying but if he genuinely believed that his plans back then would improve the lives of americans, then he might see the system we have today and hate it. because it's not working: we're falling behind in a lot of important statistics; hamilton had negative qualities for sure but i do think he was genuine in trying to find what he thought would actually improve people's lives. he wasn't entirely motivated by money, right? he cut off his other incomes as treasury secretary? yes he was ambitious but he wanted to get things done. if anything, he'd see the ineffectiveness of a whole bunch of crap happening today and hate that."

he also thinks that because hamilton dedicated a lot to working on systems (both federal governmental and economic, perhaps the two most controversial and important ones at that time) it's valid (given that earlier childhood translation as well) that he'd be very interested in social programs and economic programs today. less of the federal government thing since that's more set in stone.

so his tldr: "i know it seems like presentism and wishful thinking for me to say that modern hamilton might've been left-leaning, but i really do think it's a possibility, if we translate some of his experiences to our world. there are other founders i'd argue that would be much more conservative and or capitalist. please don't attack me."

me: "wait who do you think would be the raging capitalist?"

him: "Jefferson. if we assume he's born into a rich, rich, prestigious family today - chances are he's the son of a ceo or some corporation. and that isn't exactly old money but you can argue that any colonist family is less old money compared to the actual british nobility. and how far back is old money? if it was his grandfather who struck it big then he's still got that trust fund kid energy. so in a way, we could argue that he'd actually be the raging capitalist, probably still wanting a smaller government but for the free market and tax cuts."

this was hilarious because i focused in on his ability to hone into what the public wants to hear, and thought he'd be one of those hipster, seemingly social justice warrior people who still harbor a great amount of elitism and hypocrisy.

my friend pointed out that both can be true. he can be like kendall roy and tweet "we must overthrow the culture of corruption that silences women" while being a piece of shit with a crazy family.

you'll probably notice that this is entirely speculatory, and a lot of it is based on vibes. and we made a lot of logical jumps in terms of translating influential experiences at that time to something equivalent in the modern day. this isn't scholarly or well justified in any way - we aren't trying to prove anything but it's fun to see what aspects of their personalities we pull out. how hilarious is it to consider a hamilton raging against the financial systems and structures of america while jefferson supports big corporations or whatnot?

#one thing we agreed on would be that if betsey and alexander still had kids she'd probably be a pinterest mom #historical hamilton #well actually not historical. that's the point. #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #stuff i do in my spare time #don't attack us pls this is just for fun

[loki-who-remains]

My grumpy ass has seen too much attack on Sylvie after ep4 despite having proper filtering and blocked blogs and decided to write this instead of studying for my exams. I’m sorry to probably disappoint, though: I am not solely a sylki or a lokius shipper. Both exist for me and make sense to me without excluding each other.

I think one thing people kinda forget when they aggressively discard Loki’s factual, canonical relationship with either Mobius or Sylvie is that complex characters tend to have complex relationships. You can be friends with more than one person and/or you can be in love with more than one. Also, the intensity of a connection can be different depending on how long/deep people happen to know each other. It doesn’t automatically mean that one connection is more valuable than the other. Everything matters, everything affects and shapes a person’s growth.

Loki clearly fell in love with Sylvie, or more like with an expectation or an impression of her. It happened too fast, and he had no time to process if he can trust her, or what it is she wants, or is it even mutual. He just decided that he deeply cares for her and hence is devoted to her. She was a bit more perceptive and used it to her advantage. Mortal humans fall in love all the time just like him. It happens earlier or later in life, or never to some.

Sylvie and Loki are variants of the same person. Sylvie feels like a Loki from the first Thor, desperate and lonely and angry. He probably falls for her because he recognises this similarity but he doesn’t take into account that he himself already changed. But well, symbolically he learns to respect and accept himself, his past and present selves, his wrong doings, learns to analyse and grow from there into something new.

And where Sylvie rejects him, Mobius accepts him. With Mobius he learns to respect and care for others. His partnership with Mobius goes from the good old back-stabbing through betrayal and hurting each other to a deeper connection. They share thoughts and learn to understand each other’s motivations. Loki is humbled by the fact that infinity stones are paper weights but even more by the fact that he himself is essentially just a little dude who wants to have friends, to have fun and do something meaningful. His past doesn’t define him or lock him out of any other probable futures.

He learns to be a friend. It is first of all a friendship, and as it deepens they love and care for each other even more. Maybe it’s something that never worked out with Thor, to be equal and to be seen.

In season 2 Loki reevaluates his own priorities. Sylvie still matters to him but he lifts his expectations and just lets her be, tries to understand her and love her as she is. To love this way, without asking anything back, is actually a very powerful thing. It changes you. He probably sees her better now and understands too.

He puts more significance into his reciprocated connections, he learns to combine self-love with the love for others. It might be my specific perception, but I don’t think that platonic love is somehow worse or better than romantic love. They don’t cancel each other. We learn from a small age that love is this and that, and it always ends with kisses, kids and weddings, but in fact it’s not. I’m not saying that dreaming about this kind of love is wrong. I’m saying that it’s not the only possible option. If Mobius and Loki are never engaged in physical intimacy it doesn’t render their unique connection meaningless or less valuable. It is still clearly love, there’s still devotion.

What’s more, both Sylvie and Mobius understand how important it is for Loki to have that connection with the other. They don’t communicate directly that much though, and it’s really a shame.

That’s how Sylvie lashes out on Mobius and he is puzzled and upset by it. Probably she knows about his life, so she points out that protecting the timelines is not personal enough for him. She’s right though; maybe not so much about Mobius but about the TVA on the whole. Btw Loki is being part of it right now and he behaves the same way as Mobius. It’s just that Mobius is the one who is used to light things up. The moment isn’t right though, and he doesn’t read the room.

But the thing is, because it’s not personal, he’s able to stay afloat, be there in the moment and not be distracted by something out there. Mobius is aware that he might be weakened by what he sees and doesn’t want to risk the entire operation because of that. (Maybe he’s wrong and if Sylvie shows him his life he’ll be able to stay put like B-15, but again, he doesn’t want to risk)

I think that both connections being equally meaningful to Loki will make his further choices difficult and the consequences heavy. Mobius’s and Sylvie’s, and Loki’s lives could depend on that. Just imagine if he’s made to choose between them, to sacrifice one for the other. Or to experience all this love, remember all of it and look at them and see they don’t recognise him anymore on any timeline. Or have to choose to never be in their lives to save them both or hide them both from Kang.

#loki series #loki season 2 #lokius #sylki #lokius meta #loki meta #loki spoilers #tva loki #mobius #sylvie laufeydottir #LWR's theories

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Meet Me In The Hallway, Chapter Five:

pairing: frankie morales x roommate!oc (Dylan Jones)

rating: E (18+ only, feelings of inadequacy/insecurity, touch of angst, these two yearningggg, one shitty customer, oral sex (f rec), unprotected piv, creampie)

wc: 5.3k

series masterlist | frankie masterlist

Frankie was up earlier than he’d normally be on a Saturday, the nerves of his date tonight forcing him to rise along with the sun.

Along with tonight’s plans, he also had a few meetings with a couple of potential nannies to help with taking care of Rina while her uncles were busy. Though truthfully, the thought of a stranger taking care of his daughter five days out of the week made him feel like a failure, or at the very least an absent father, just like his own.

He thought deeply about the chaotic state of his life as he sat at the patio table drinking his coffee and watching the sun rise. How could Dylan want anything to do with his mess? She knew him well enough by now to see the cracks in his foundation, to see just how better off she’d be with someone else. Someone who had their shit together.

“Someone’s up early,” Dylan’s voice sounded from the sliding glass door that led into the backyard. He turned his head quickly in her direction, offering a sincere but tired smile that made her frown as she walked over to sit beside him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just…” He took a deep breath and shrugged. “Just thinking.”

“Hopefully not overthinking,” she said, bringing her hand to smooth over his t-shirt covered back. Frankie eased into her touch as though he was a walking illness and she was the antidote.

“You know me too well,” he said, turning to smile at her. “Just thinking about how often I’m going to be gone…how it’s gonna affect Rina.”

“We’ll be here for her,” Dylan offered, smiling softly at him.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it’s not the same. I’ve already been so absent these last couple years. Leaving her with my mom, only seeing her on the weekends. And then now…leaving her with you guys.” He took a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. “Told myself I’d never be like my dad and look at me.”

“Frankie,” Dylan cooed and frowned. She reached for his chin and guided his eyes to hers so that he could really see her as she spoke. “You’re not your dad. The fact that you’re up at five in the morning fearing becoming him is proof of that.”

Frankie gave her a pursed smile and nodded, trying his best to believe in what she was saying.

“And it’s not forever,” she added, her eyes studying the hairs beneath her fingertips as she trailed them along his jaw. “Right?”

“I mean I guess the dream is working a normal job, but…” he shrugged. “Don’t know what I’d do.”

“You can always come work for me,” she joked, earning a more wide smile.

“Oh yeah? Think I’d be any good at baking?”

Dylan nodded and shrugged before saying, “I think you’re the kind of guy that’s good at everything. All you gotta do is try.”

“Trying’s the hardest part, hermosa.” Dylan chuckled and nodded, lowering her hand from his face to his knee to give it a squeeze. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Working until four,” she replied, her eyes locked on the fabric of his khaki cargo pants beneath her fingers as she drew circles on it. “Then I’m gonna go out with this guy I’ve been crushing on for months now.”

“Months?” Dylan’s eyes lifted to Frankie’s as she smiled.

“Yeah. Ever since I met you, really.” Frankie stared at her, speechless. Though clearly he knew she was interested in him, he assumed it was a recent thing, not a months-in-the-making kind of thing. “Is that weird? You’re looking at me like it’s weird.

“No, no,” he shook his head and managed a boyish grin. “I’m just kicking myself for not making a move sooner.”

“Well…you could still make a move.” She bit her lip, drawing his eyes to her plump pout.

Frankie tended to overthink these types of things to the point of talking himself out of it, but Dylan had a way of grounding him in the present and wiping his worried mind clean like no one else he’d met before. Leaning in close, he gave her the chance to pull away from him in case he was reading things wrong, but of course, she didn’t. Her hand rested on his cheek as she closed the distance between their lips, kissing him soft and sweet and slow. So slow that when they finally pulled away from the kiss, he felt like time was moving at half-speed. All that the world consisted of for a few perfect seconds was him and her and this blossoming fondness between them, and it felt like absolute peace.

“I’m—“ Frankie started to speak but paused to shake his head in awe at her as she smiled at him like he was her favorite person in the world. “I’m so fucking into you, Dylan.”

“That’s nice, ‘cause I’m so fucking into you, too, Frankie.”

“We’re unfortunately sold out of our triple chocolate chip right now, I apologize. But we still have our double chocolate—“

“She wants the triple,” the thirty-something year old man standing at the bakery counter with his tween daughter barked at Dylan as she stood trying to help him. “How long does it take to make a new batch?”

She chuckled in disbelief at his audacity, as if it were an easy task to go in the back, whip up a batch of cookies, bake them, all while handling the line of customers waiting behind him.

“We have the double chocolate chip and regular chocolate chip—“

“Are you hard of hearing? It’s her birthday and she wants—“ His voice was drowned out as the doorbell chimed, Frankie and Rina’s smiles instantly brightening up the store as they waved at her and stood at the end of the line. “Hello? You fucking stupid—“

Frankie’s brow furrowed at the sound of the man’s booming voice and the vulgarities that escaped with it.

“Sir, I apologize but I can’t just go make another batch. I’m the only person here, and as you can see, there’s a line of people behind you.”

“None of that is my problem. My problem is the fact that you have a sign up here advertising the cookie of the week, and there’s none left. Now, it’s my daughter’s birthday and she wants the triple—“

Dylan sighed, her eyes flickering to Frankie’s as he stood ready to intervene at any moment. “It’s going to be at least twenty minutes.”

“We’ll wait.”

Frankie must have sensed her need for an extra set of hands because not even a second later, he was rounding the corner of the counter, his hand holding Rina’s.

“Can we help?” he asked in a whisper.

Dylan hated that she needed to ask this of him, that she couldn’t even run her business properly without needing outside help, but she truly had no other option. This customer wasn’t leaving without his fucking cookie.

“Yeah,” she sighed and frowned at him. “I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to pay—“

“Shh,” he silenced her worry. “I’ll handle shit up here.”

Dylan mustered a grateful smile and nodded at him before turning to go into the back, the sound of Frankie’s voice as he helped the next customer easing the tension that ached her muscles.

In a strange way, a very tiny part of her almost wanted to thank the nasty customer for forcing her back here and inadvertently giving her a break and a chance to channel her stress and anxiety over the chaotic state of her life. Baking had always been her favorite form of therapy, the meticulous work forcing her out of her head and giving her a chance to breathe.

The only other thing that ever made her feel that way was the man out there, laughing and flirting with the old ladies who were in line just to make their day, even when by the look of him earlier that morning, he was struggling.

Dylan sighed at the memory of his exhausted face, the lines on his forehead telling a story that he couldn’t find the strength to. She yearned to see him at peace, to know for certain that all the demons and cobwebs and skeletons in his closet were gone for good, but every time she attempted to help carry the weight of his heavy load, he pulled back. He had such a way of pouring into everyone else but never allowed anyone else to fill his cup.

After the line had gone away—every customer happy, even the prick—Dylan turned the sign on her door from “open” to “closed” and locked the deadbolt with a relieved sigh.

Frankie remained by the register, Rina propped up on the counter beside it, and wore a grin on his face as Dylan slugged up to him.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” he said, pointing at the sign on the door. “Kick rocks.”

“What amazing customer service you give, Frankito,” she teased as she rounded the counter to walk over to the nearly empty display case.

“You’re doing well,” he commended, tipping his nose at the case. “Selling out is good, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “It’s good. It’s also really annoying because, yeah, I’m making a lot of money, but I still don’t have enough profit to hire an actual employee. I’ve got my lease and inventory and now my second oven isn’t working so I have to replace that—“

“So much going on in that beautiful mind,” he said, interrupting her for the better. Dylan smiled shyly at the way he could see right through her and sucked in a refreshingly deep breath before exhaling it. “There you go. Now admit to yourself that you’re fuckin’ killing this shit.” He reached over and grabbed one of the day’s leftovers, an oatmeal raisin cookie that Dylan adored but everyone else seemed to loathe, and popped it in his mouth. “Because you’re fuckin’ killing this shit. This is oatmeal fucking raisin, and it’s so good.”

“No hating on oatmeal raisin in my store,” she scolded with a grin on her face. “And fine. I’m kinda killing it.”

“See, not so hard.” Dylan rolled her eyes and walked past the swinging metal doors that led to the kitchen, Frankie and Rina following behind like puppies.

“Can you teach me to make cupcakes?” Rina asked, her eyes wide as she took in the “forbidden” room with excitement. Dylan chuckled and shrugged, turning to look at Frankie with a smitten look before softening her smile for Rina.

“If your dad says so, I’d love to teach you Ri.”

Frankie seemed to swoon, his head shaking in reverence at her. “That a yes or a no?”

“It’s a yes.” There was weight in his words, or at least the way he said them. Yes, you can teach my daughter. Yes, I trust you with her. Yes, this feels right.

Rina’s squeal of excitement at the thought of getting a cupcake pierced the weight of the moment, pulling your eyes from Frankie’s but not ridding you of that smile you seemed to wear just for him.

“Kay, Ri. First we gotta put on our aprons.” Dylan walked past Frankie, her pinky brushing across his, and grabbed her well-loved apron before finding a spare for Rina. “I think it’s gonna be too big. Can you figure out a way—“

Frankie was already taking it out of her hands to fold it in half before tying it onto his very hyper daughter.

“Cool,” Dylan chuckled. “Totally would’ve thought of that eventually.”

“I’m sure you would’ve,” he huffed out a breath of laughter as he stood up and looked at her for a beat before gesturing at his body. “Where’s mine?”

“Oh,” she laughed. “I didn’t think you’d want to help.”

“You kidding? A masterclass from the cupcake god for free?” She rolled her eyes at his flattery and giggled before grabbing him an apron, the sight of him putting it on and wearing it doing more for her than she thought it would. With heated cheeks, she turned to Rina.

“What kind do you wanna make?”

“Strawberry and lemon and whipped cream with chocolate sprinkles.” Dylan and Frankie shared an impressed look.

“Sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for a while,” Dylan joked before moving to grab everything she’d need to make this little girl’s dream come true.

“Yeah, I think about cupcakes every day,” Rina said.

“Same,” Frankie agreed under his breath, unintentionally widening Dylan’s already aching grin.

“Maybe you’ll be a baker one day,” Dylan replied, nudging the little girl playfully.

“Daddy, can I be a baker like Dyllie?” she asked, looking up at her father who stood on her other side.

“Course you can, baby. Anything you wanna be, you can.” He combed his hand over her forehead. “Besides, if you become a baker, I’ll get to have all the leftovers, right?”

“You can have one,” she held up her little finger.

“Only one?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as though her word was final, and Frankie laughed because truthfully, it was.

“Fine, only one.”

“Dyllie gets two.”

“What? How come she gets two and I get one?”

“Because she taught me.”

Dylan and Frankie looked at each other with the same adoring frown at the little girl’s words.

“That’s a very good point, Ri,” he said. “Dylan deserves two.”

By the time Dylan made it back to the house—Frankie and Rina had one last meeting with a potential nanny—it was six o’clock, leaving Dylan only an hour to shower and get ready for their dinner and a movie drive-in date that she’d been nervously awaiting all day.

“Hey,” Lennon called from the sofa as she laid with Benny in their usual spot.

“Hey,” Dylan greeted, kicking her shoes off by the door before walking over. “Where’s everybody?”

“Frankie and Rina are out, Pope’s over at Imelda’s tonight, and Will and Cass went to Orlando to visit her parents,” Benny answered. “You guys just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Actually…” Dylan bit her lip as Lennon quirked her brow at her in interest. “Frankie and I are going out tonight.”

“Out?” Benny repeated in a chuckle. “As in a date?”

“Yeah,” Lennon added.

“Yeah,” Dylan nodded. “Going to a drive-in.”

“So 1950’s of you,” Lennon teased. “You nervous?”

“A little,” she shrugged. “Just because if all of this doesn’t work out, I’m going to have a very awkward living arrangement.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Benny chuckled, turning to look at his roommate. “That boy is in love with you.”

“Babe,” Lennon scolded, swatting his chest. “Gonna scare her off.”

“How?” he laughed.

“Because we’re wounded orphans who are scared of love,” she replied, making Dylan chuckle.

“You said it easy enough,” he retorted.

“Yeah, I guess I did,” she grinned back.

“Anyways,” Dylan stood up as Lennon leaned in to kiss her boyfriend. “I’m gonna go get ready.”

“Make sure to shave!” Lennon called.

“Shut up,” she called back with a smile.

Frankie was a nervous mess as he waited for Dylan to make her way out of her bedroom. Benny and Lennon were already playing babysitter for the night, keeping Rina entertained with a showing of Finding Nemo and pizza, the three of them a stark contrast to Frankie who paced around in the same room as them.

“Jesus,” Benny teased after five minutes of watching his friend. “Sit down, I’m begging you.”

“Yeah, daddy,” Rina joined in, patting the seat beside her on the sectional. “Sit down, you’re ruining the movie.”

“Alright,” he managed, taking the seat offered to him.

“Nervous?” Lennon asked between bites.

“Just—“ he shrugged. “Just want things to go well.”

“He’s actually sweating,” Benny teased, pointing at Frankie’s face. “Chill out, man.”

“That’s very helpful, Ben, thanks. That really puts the mind at ease—“ Frankie’s rant was interrupted by the sound of Dylan’s door clicking open. He stood up and smiled at her through his nerves, the sight of her in a light sundress, her hair in waves, and her makeup done up in a way that made her literally glow commanding his full focus now.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, fidgeting with her bracelet. Frankie let out the breath he seemed to be holding since he asked her out and chuckled.

“Don’t apologize, you look—“

Giggles sounding from the couch made him roll his eyes and save his compliment for the car.

“How about we head out?” Dylan suggested, just as embarrassed by their audience as he was. Frankie nodded and gave a kiss to the top of Rina’s head before walking out of the house with Dylan leading the way.

Now that there was no one to tease them, Frankie felt more at ease openly eyeing her as he walked her to his old truck.

“You look so good.” Dylan instantly flushed at the compliment, that bashful smile that made him fall for her growing on her face.

“Look who’s talking,” she replied, tugging on the hem of the loose button down he was wearing. “Getting all dressed up for me.”

“Haven’t dressed this nice in years,” he laughed, nervously running his hand over his chest before doing the same to his hair. “Feels weird not wearing my hat.”

“You can go put it on,” she offered, reaching her own hand up to twirl one of his waves around her finger. “But I like you like this, too.”

Frankie let out a shaky chuckle as she combed her fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp at the nape of his neck.

“I’ll keep it off,” he said, low and flustered. “Since you like it.”

She smirked at him as she let her hand fall back to her side so that she could open the passenger door.

“Wait—“ Frankie gently shoved her hand away from the door handle so that he could open it for her, earning a playful eye roll. “Gotta pull out all the stops.”

“I don’t know,” she giggled and climbed into her seat. “Your competition is a dude who honked his horn at me to pick me up.” Frankie shook his head and sighed.

“What a cunt.”

“Total cunt.”

Dylan couldn’t stop picking at her nails the entire ride to the drive-in, even when conversation flowed naturally between them. It wasn’t this part that she was nervous about—they were good friends, best friends if she really thought about it, and they’d always have a good time together hanging out. But when she began to think about what would hopefully come after, her stomach stormed with insecurity and anxiety.

What if she was so rusty that it turned him off? Or, a much crueler thought, what if he changed his mind after finally getting her out of his system?

“They’ve got really good burgers here,” Frankie spoke up as they arrived at the drive-in, breaking her out of her hypotheticals. “I always get the cowboy one. It’s got like barbecue sauce and these fried onion things—“

“Could you—“ Dylan paused after interrupting him, debating the sanity behind her request before settling on asking anyway. “Could you kiss me?”

Frankie turned to her with a confused smile as they sat in a line of cars buying their tickets.

“I just—I’m so fucking nervous and I need to, I don’t know, be…grounded? Sounds stupid when I say it out lou—“

Frankie’s lips pressing against hers forced her to shut up and just feel. Feel him, feel that this was happening, feel just how nervous he was himself.

When he pulled away, his lips still parted from the kiss and eyes lidded with desire, Dylan felt like she could finally breathe. Chuckling at the worry that consumed her just minutes before, she bit her lip and smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said.

Frankie parted his lips to speak but a honk alerted him to the fact that he’d been holding up the line. Facing forward, Frankie tried to control his blush as he pulled forward and paid for the tickets before driving into the giant parking lot.

“Hope you don’t mind our shitty view,” he sighed, realizing that they should’ve come earlier as all the best spots were already taken.

“I don’t mind,” she shrugged, turning her head to look at him to find him already staring. “I have a nice view of all I want to see.”

“Cheesy,” he teased, making her eyes roll, her hand reaching over to swat his arm. “I’m into cheesy.”

“Speaking of cheese, my stomach is growling.”

“Come on,” he chuckled and swung his door open. Before he could make it around to open Dylan’s door, she was already standing and smoothing out her dress. “I’m supposed to do that for you.”

“Fix the wrinkles in my dress?”

“Open your door,” he corrected with a breath of a laugh. “Chivalry and all.”

“You fingered me in a dive bar,” she retorted. “I think we’re beyond chivalry.”

“Guess you’re right,” he smirked to himself. “Can’t believe I did that.”

“Well you did, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since.” Frankie shook his head and sighed as he reached for her hand, intertwining their fingers together as they walked.

“You’re gonna kill me if you keep saying shit like that.” Dylan looked over at him with a smirk, proud of the blush her words formed on his cheeks. He turned to her, letting out a laugh at the look on her face, and gave her hand a squeeze. “At least it’ll be a happy death.”

Frankie was glad he picked a movie he’d already seen before because, for the life of him, he just couldn’t take his eyes off Dylan. She sat in the passenger seat, switching between her box of sour patch kids and the bucket of popcorn seated on her lap.

“Can I have some?” he asked, watching as her eyes turned to meet his, the giant projector screen casting a colorful glow over their faces.

“Of?” she asked, a smirk growing as she flickered her eyes to his lips.

“Not fair,” he chuckled and grabbed the bucket out of her lap. “There’s still an hour left in the movie. Don’t torture me.”

“Let’s go, then,” she suggested, biting her lip as she turned her entire body in her seat.

Frankie laughed. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded, scooting across the bench seat to rest her hand on his thigh. “I’m done waiting.” Her hand crept upwards, sliding over his jean clad thigh until her fingers were dancing towards the faint outline tenting the denim. “I’ve been patient. Let you take me out, treat me like a lady…but now—“ Frankie gasped as she pressed her hand against him, his brows screwed together in pleasure. “Now I want you.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, lifting his hands to cup both sides of her face and pull her in for a searing kiss, the kind that left them panting and breathless when he pulled away. “Put your seatbelt on.”

Dylan gasped as Frankie pinned her against the closed passenger door, one hand gripping her hip and the other cradling her jaw as he kissed the breath from her lungs. They’d barely made it to the driveway, their wandering hands and excitement causing Frankie to swerve on more than one occasion.

“I want you so bad,” she breathed out against his lips as she hugged his neck to keep him close. Frankie groaned at the confession and pressed himself against her even more to relieve the building ache of his arousal.

“Gotta make sure Rina’s in bed,” he replied, resting his forehead against hers as he attempted to calm his rapid breathing. Dylan let her hand rest on his face before tilting it back so that he was meeting her eyes. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

“I’ll wait for you in my bedroom?” she asked.

“Okay,” he nodded, kissing her once more before pulling away so that they could head inside.

As expected, Benny and Lauren were still awake and in the middle of a makeout when Dylan and Frankie entered the house. Frankie cleared his throat, drawing Benny’s attention.

“Hey,” he greeted the two of them with a wide smile. “Go well?”

Dylan excused herself from the awkward interaction with a soft breath of a laugh, retreating back to her bedroom to mentally hype herself up for what was to come.

She quickly freshened herself up, applying more deodorant and popping a piece of mint gum in her mouth before hurrying into her dresser to find a lingerie set she’d purchased a year ago on a whim but never wore. She bit her lip as she found the yellow lace corset set before hurrying to exchange her plain bra and thong for its sexier counterpart. Lastly, she gave her neck and wrists a spritz of perfume, then walked over to the full length mirror in the corner of her room to examine herself one final time.

“Alright, she’s aslee—“ Frankie let himself in without knocking, catching Dylan as she stood with her back turned to him, watching him through the mirror. “Jesus—“ He quickly shut the door before making his way over to her, his hands almost trembling as they rested on her hips. “You’re insane.”

“Why do you say that?” she laughed.

“Because you’re so out of my league, it’s ridiculous. When’s the last time you got your vision checked?” Dylan rolled her eyes and swatted his thigh to scold him for being so self critical.

“You’re beautiful, Frankie,” she said, turning in his arms to face him, one hand burying in his mess of waves while the other rested on his cheek. “Those eyes. Your nose. Your lips. This little patch in your beard.” She leaned in to place a kiss there. “S’all beautiful.”

Frankie kissed her, wet and slow and maddening, holding her frame against his as he backed himself against the foot of the bed before pulling her onto his lap. Dylan broke the kiss to reach in between them and undo his belt, pulling a moan out of him when her knuckles brushed over his length.

“We have to be quiet,” he groaned as though the fact physically pained him. “Fucking hate that.”

“We should get a hotel room next time,” she half-joked with a smirk as she popped the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down.

Frankie stood up, guiding Dylan to lay back against the mattress as he stood between her thighs at the foot of the bed. He undid the buttons of his shirt as quickly as he could manage with the shaking of his hands as he watched Dylan cup her lace covered breasts, squeezing them together just to put on a show for him.

“So fucking—god,” he chuckled. “You’re turning me stupid.”

She giggled and opened her legs for him, showing him the damp spot on her panties just to torture him all the more.

“Fuck it,” he abandoned shucking his jeans off in favor of dropping to his knees and pulling her panties to the side so that he could get a taste of her, pulling a loud gasp from Dylan that had Frankie raising an eyebrow at her. “You want everybody to hear, baby?”

“Just feels good,” she hushed her moans so that only he could hear, her fingers burying in his hair to pull his tongue back to her clit. Frankie smiled as he dived back in, working her over and over until her toes were curling and fingers were clawing at his scalp. “Frankie, shit.”

“Tastes so fucking good, baby,” he moaned against her cunt, his fingers gripping her thighs to keep them open as they tried to clamp shut around his head.

“Frankie,” she whined, her head rolling against the mattress. “I’m going to—“

“Fuck yes,” he slid his finger inside of her and curled up until she came undone around him, her thighs shaking and clamping around his ears as she tried to hold in the sounds of her climax. He pressed a kiss to her inner thigh as he watched her chest heave with pride.

“Frankie,” she called, reaching for his arm to tug him up her body until he was hovering over her. “I want you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, desperate and reverent. When Dylan nodded, he quickly tugged his jeans and briefs down just enough to free his cock, letting it slap against her swollen cunt.

“Shit,” Dylan gasped as she looked down between their bodies to admire his cock. “Only makes sense you’ve got the world’s prettiest dick.”

Frankie laughed and shook his head at her, grinning as he leaned down to kiss her. Dylan reached down and positioned his cock at her entrance, rubbing the tip over her slick before urging him with her ankles digging into his lower back to put it in.

“Fuck,” he groaned, swallowing down her moan as he slowly slid inside of her. “Not gonna last long, baby.”

“You feel so good,” she whined, her arms reaching to wrap around his broad shoulders as he fucked her like he was making love to her, slow and sensual.

“Baby, fuck,” he moaned into her ear. “I’m gonna fucking cum. Where—“

“Inside me,” she begged, linking her ankles around his waist to keep him close. Frankie buried his face in her neck, his fingers clawing at the bedspread as he fucked her with more purpose now, the burn of his size mixing with the blinding pleasure to make her see stars.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Frankie pumped his hips once, twice, and then pressed himself deep inside her, crumbling into her arms and onto her chest as he filled her up. Dylan couldn’t be bothered to care that she hadn’t come a second time, not when he did such a good job with the first one.

“Fuck, that was—“

“Mindshattering?” he interrupted, lifting his head to give her a pleasure drunk smile. Dylan laughed and nodded, accepting the kiss he left on her chin with a wide stretched smile on.

“Well worth the wait,” she said, moving with him as he rolled off of her and onto his side. “You’re very talented with your tongue, you know that?”

“I’ve always been a big fan,” he admitted with a boyish smile. “But you…” he pulled her tight to his body, smoothing his hand across her back until he was squeezing her ass. “You’re gonna turn me into an addict. So fucking sweet.”

“Can’t wait to repay the favor,” she smiled, leaning in for a kiss only to get interrupted by soft knocking on the door and Rina’s small voice.

“Shit,” he sighed, raking a hand over her face. “She gets these nightmares—“

“No, I understand,” Dylan let him climb out of bed before sliding under her bedsheets to cover her body while Frankie changed back into his clothes at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll try to sneak back over once I get her back to sleep?” he asked as he finished buttoning his shirt, walking over to give Dylan a soft peck.

“Sounds good, but if she needs you tonight, it’s okay,” she assured, earning an adoring smile from Frankie.

“I—“ Dylan held her breath as she watched him stop himself from saying the three words that played on the tip of her own tongue. “I like you, Jones.”

Chuckling, she reached up and pinched his chin. “I like you too, Morales.”

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales #frankie morales angst #frankie morales x oc #frankie morales fluff #mmith

[sacrificialsam]

What are your thoughts on parentified dean?

I hate when it veers into “dean is sams dad” territory cuz I think that’s silly (and not accurate to me anyway. I know the later seasons lean more into the dean as mom dad brother thing but I don’t think that dynamic fits with the earlier seasons and it does feel like they just wanted to give Dean more poor sufferer vibes which is something I don’t like. The ep with sonny’s farm is an especially bad example of this and I don’t think it fits with johns character in season 1 at alllllllll. In the pilot John has been gone for three weeks and dean is freaking out!!! At 26!!!!!!)

I think it fits when we talk about John and dean’s relationship. Dean spent a long time (until we see him go against John in season 1) coddling johns feeling and providing him with emotional support (and keeping him with him all the time. Again later seasons “dad would send me away sometimes” moments are ridiculous!!!)

i've talked about parentified dean a lot on this blog, but i'll give you a quick rundown of my basic opinions: while dean was clearly parentified by john when he was left alone to take care of sam, fandom constantly insists dean did way more for sam than is actually implied or even logical. i don't believe dean really thinks of sam as his son, and sam would never see dean as his dad. dean isn't and wouldn't be a good parent or parental figure, and saying sam's childhood was 'easy' because of dean's parenting is ignorant at best. additionally, i hate interpretations and headcanons of dean as a mother or maternal.

but to address your specific points, yeah they ramped up the woobification of dean a lot, and i also feel like dean's pity parties got worse and worse in later seasons. after a certain point john had to be vilified even more and act out of character to add onto this, and since preseries and the winchesters' childhoods aren't explored in complete detail a lot of rewriting could happen there. john was an absent father, but that doesn't mean he lost all contact with his family for months on end, as that's clearly a big cause of concern in the first season as you've pointed out. it honestly bothers me because i feel like the added victimization of dean's childhood is used to further the narrative of sam being spoiled and having it good in comparison; it's often played in a way that makes it look like dean was the only victim of john's subpar parenting because 'sam at least had dean' or something. and i want to point out i don't think sam was treated just like dean or was parentified in the same way, but he also had to grow up too fast and was negatively affected by it. and we also know dean added onto that by also wanting sam to stay a hunter instead of having a life away from direct danger, he wasn't the force of good to john's negative influence or anything.

with dean and john's relationship i think it's a bit complicated, john clearly used dean as a point of reassurance and support and did put too much stress on him, which he even apologizes for in his last moments. but i'm not sure if parentification is the right word for it, i don't think he was a parent stand-in for john, much more someone who could act as a right hand man, someone who would back him up (even against sam) and who could be relied on. i like the soldier or even the guard dog analogies a lot better than those saying dean was the other parent in their family dynamic, because i don't think dean ever fully moved out of the son category, he wasn't truly equal. and this is partially because john never let dean (or sam) disagree with his decisions, and dean very much idolized his father and wanted to follow his lead rather than have equal saying.

oh and i answered another ask about parentification before, if this wasn't a long enough read yet.

#ask #anon

[enchantra35]

Reflections on V4 & V5 of RWBY by a first time watcher

(Lengthy post ahead)

Hi, it's be again, back on my bullshit. First of all, I'd like to say that I didn’t expect my first post to get that much attention LOL. I'd like to clarify (again) two points:

First, I agree with most people's explanations. I didn't mean to sound like I was accusing fans for not thinking that bumbleby would become canon. My intention was to point out to some earlier hints, and I realize now that I could have used some better phrasing. As I explained elsewhere, when rwby aired, I was too young to know anything about the state of queer representation in media at the time. Now of course I know better, although I never got to experience that kind of anxiety - at least, not to that extent. My second point is that I was mostly referring towards homophobes and incels who were trying to persuade shippers that bumbleby wasn't happening, and not to fans who couldn't be certain due to the overall circumstances.

With that said, the aim of this post is mainly to discuss some things I've noticed while watching volumes 4 & 5. There wasn't much I wished to comment on after finishing v4 as I found it very transitional, so I decided to do one unified post for both volumes, especially since someone suggested to watch these volumes as one. Let me now get to the main points I'd like to mention.

-Edit: I forgot one of the most important motifs imo; the moon. I noticed how each volume it looks bit by bit more ruined, showing how the world below is also falling it chaos and society as it is known is destroyed. Also, it's eventual (potential) complete destruction will make the nights darker, symbolizing the triumph of evil. I love subtle details like that.

- Ozpin's and Crow's dynamic really reminds me of Dumbledore and Snape. Ozpin in particular reminds me very much of Dumbledore - and I definitely don't mean that as a good thing. Although he clearly has good intentions and he's a "good guy" per se, sometimes it feels like he's using his students as sacrificial lamps for the greater good. Personally, I'm not exactly font of the idea of pushing the fate of the world onto the shoulders of a bunch of teenagers. Oscar is still a KID and all he's ever known is how to be a farmer and suddenly he's sharing a body with one of the smartest and most powerful people to ever walk the earth and their fates are suddenly intertwined. That's so insane. And on top of everything, Ozpin isn't 100% honest with him. I'm glad that Yang confronts him about keeping secrets. I will give it to him however that he's honest enough to admit his mistakes.

-Raven is probably one of the most fascinating characters. Can't say whether I like her or hate her, but there are so many layers to touch upon. It's interesting how she's constantly trying to prove to others - and essentially to the viewers as well - that she's cruel, smart and calculating (and she definitely is all those things) and that she doesn't care about trifle things, but ultimately she fails, as it is evident by the end of volume 5. She does care about Yang (although she has a very strange way of showing it) and her tribe most of all. She's also smart enough to see Ozpin's shortcomings.

- I liked how they explored Yang's trauma from loosing her arm and how she copes with the loss. "A part of me is lost" is such a powerful statement and it points to how everything has changed, but Yang accepts it.

-At the same time, that girl has no chill with that prosthetic arm. She straight up dismantles it off her shoulder just to win the wrestling against Nora (and later on to elude Mercury. I bet that if anyone asked her to give them a hand, she would just toss it on their feet then laugh her ass out. She's so silly, I love her.

-With that said, I wish they could have explored a little bit more of Jaune's trauma, but still I think we see well enough how Pyrrha's death has affected him. But why the FUCK did they have to give him more trauma in order to unlock his semblance? Another of his friends almost dies before his eyes, give that boy a break, good Lord.

- Ren and Nora 👀. I love me some good childhood bestdriends to potential lovers. Their background is so tragic but there's something about then growing up together that makes me feel things. I love their dynamic and I think it's pretty hilarious (collected, quiet guy and loud, silly, powerful girl). It was nice how they gained some catharsis when they finally killed that monster. And the symbolism when they hid under similar building where Nora tried to calm Ren down? Literal tears.

-"I was struck by a lighting and I lived. What a Wednesday" GIRL WHAT, LMAO

- I really enjoyed Blake's and Sun's dynamic, whether someone sees them romantically or platonically (for me personally it's the latter, but that's besides the point). Sun has always been a great friend, and although he can be really annoying sometimes, he is there for Blake and he's able to make her see things clearly and persuade her that isolating herself isn't a good thing. I feel like without him around, things for the Belladonnas would have been very different. He's a bit of a himbo, but I love him.

-The angsty Bees got me really well this season. Yang's anger is definitely justifiable and she has every right to be upset.

-"What if I wanted her to be here for me?" BITCH-

-Weiss pulling the "what's that supposed to mean?" every time the Bees are being angsty will forever be funny to me. The OG Beekeeper.

-That said, I think that she explains Blake's point of view really well and I liked how she reached out to Yang although "they aren't that close" (her words, not mine) and seeks to comfort her.

-Did I say that I hate Weiss's family? (Except maybe Winter, but the rest can go burn in hell). I'm GLAD Weiss realizes that ream RWBY is her true family. You love to see a good found family trope.

-Genuinely CANNOT stand the Bees this season /j. Blake seeing her team again and the only person she calls out for is Yang? And Yang's puppy eyes when she sees Blake again? WHY ARE YOU GAY?

-One of the funniest lines was when Crow was like "How can six children make so many noise while having dinner?", like BUDDY, you just answered your question. Tired uncle Crow for the win.

#enchantra watches rwby #rwby #rwby volume 4 #rwby volume 5 #bumbleby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #weiss shnee #sun wukong #rwby oscar #jaune arc #renora