#i'm just figuring out where i want to start now- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

secondbeatsongs · 3 days ago

Text

Food Crime: Frosty the Slawman

so a while ago, I saw this photo going around on tumblr:

at first, I thought this was photoshopped. I mean, "welcome new man in your life"? that feels like a translation error, or someone being silly on purpose.

but guess what! turns out, Frosty Slaw Man is real!

and soon...he will be mine. let's get cooking

(full disclosure: I crafted this snowman and took notes about it over a year ago. and then, like with many things in my life, I forgot about him, and let him drift into the ADHD void of Things I'm Not Currently Staring At, where object permanence is tentative and largely unrealized.

but here we are! and here he is: the slaw man. it's time to share him with you, so that you can suffer as I have suffered, and/or rejoice in my gelatin creation!)

so this recipe photo originally came from Mid-Century Menu (archive link), a blog that seems like one after my own heart, and which once tried to make the Slaw Man (with not much success; but we'll get back to that)! but it's not just that blog that has copies of this ad. I also found it on reddit, and in a few different places on ebay!

lookit that guy! he's a real guy!

both the reddit post and some of the ebay listings say that this is from 1963 (though I haven't been able to figure out which magazines it was printed in, to confirm this for myself). but in looking this up, I discovered something else fun! there's another version of this ad!

Best Foods is what Hellmann's stuff is called on the west coast, and the "this is no place for second best" thing makes a lot more sense when you consider that the ad was probably made for Best Foods first, and then just reused and rebranded for the east coast

the more you know!

anyway the benefit of finding this alternate ad is that the scan on this image is a lot clearer, and so the recipe is more readable! and in looking at it, I've realized something important:

when Mid-Century Menu tried this recipe, they got an ingredient amount wrong.

when they made their beloved Slaw Man, they had the water amount written down as 1/4 cup, but looking at this scan up close, it is actually 3/4 cup of water! something that might make a significant difference, considering we're working with gelatin!

(there's also another change I want to make compared to what they did, when I do this recipe. but we'll get into that in a sec.)

for now: we begin

so. there's no way I'm making a Slaw Man this large. I am just one person, and considering the ingredients of this, I don't think I'm going to be able to consume that much Slaw.

two entire heads of cabbage? three pounds of cottage cheese, a thing that I don't even like to eat? no. that's a bad idea.

so I'm starting small here and making this 1/3 the size of the original:

2 packets of unflavored gelatin 1/4 cup cold water 1 cup mayo 1 tsp salt 1lb cottage cheese 4 cups shredded cabbage

surely this will result in a reasonable amount of Man

...okay, I started chopping the cabbage thinking it would be easier, but I've given up and pulled out a grater. this is much better! and somehow more violent (affectionate)

the recipe says to soften the gelatin in cold water, and then stir over hot water until it's dissolved. I'm going to assume "stir over hot water" means a double boiler, so let's do that

hmmm, the gelatin is very foamy? it’s melted, but the bottom of the pot feels really....sticky

okay. after a couple minutes more and no change, I’m calling this good enough.

so one thing that others who have attempted this recipe have not taken into consideration is the cottage cheese. you see, the others used normal cottage cheese, but the recipe says to use "cottage cheese, cream style"

I’ll be real, I’m not 100% what that means, since we don’t have that here. but I can take an educated guess! so let’s blend the cottage cheese!

(with an immersion blender. I am not willing to wash an actual blender because of this)

mmm, yes. very smooth

...actually. why isn't all cottage cheese like this? the thing I hate about cottage cheese is the texture, so why isn't it all smooth and creamy like this?? I could eat this!!

a new discovery is made every day in this house.

okay, time to start mixing things together.

ah, frosty. I opened a whole new thing of mayo for you! do you feel special?

(I'd make a "pre-dinner snack?" joke, but sometimes I think I'm the only one that remembers Regular Ordinary Swedish Meal Time)

okay, the mayo, cottage cheese, and salt have been added to the gelatin. but as this cools, the texture is getting...hmm. less than appealing.

lastly: the cabbage

oh. oh this is not very nice

next it says to pack the "salad" into a one pound container, and two six-cup bowls, but since I made this recipe so much smaller, I'm going to uhhhh. uh. find some bowls that seem like they'd be correct...snowman? proportions?

ah. this bowl is too big.

hey, these'll work!

now I just have to let them chill for a while, and continue another day.

(edit from current!me: ahhh oh my god I forgot this was pretty soon after we adopted Jackie! look at these cat pics that I took while I was food crime-ing!

look at them having their little interactions! Knuckles was trying so hard to be friends with her! I love them)

hello! two days later and we are ready to assemble the slawman. and my sibling has started referring to him as "frosty: attorney at slaw", so that's fun.

I've done a thing where, as these set, I flipped them around in the bowl so that hopefully they'd be more round. we'll see if they actually stay like this.

I have also made some decorations for him out of peppers, olives, and carrots!

let's build our boy

oh he's so heavy. and wobbly

no no no he almost fell over!!

okay. he's fine. but more skewers were needed.

and...okay. he is complete.

behold!

gaze upon my beautiful man!

(he is not structurally sound! he wobbles unsteadily as I rotate him! there are already cracks forming in the gelatin around where his arms are! don't worry about it!)

now it's time to stab him

and...to devour him

this tastes like...a bland coleslaw? and not even that. it's just sort of a salty, cottage cheese-y cabbage. the ingredients don't combine to become something greater, they simply...sit there. like this.

and the texture is...mmm. it's not a jello kind of texture, but it is a bit squashy in a way that's mildly strange.

it's very creamy once it softens in your mouth.

...I don't like this!

and look! taking just that one chunk from him was enough to destabilize him entirely :(

RIP frosty. now I just have to see if I can eat all of you before you go bad.

(note from current!me: I could not.

I ate maybe half of him over the course of many days, often adding other stuff to him to try to add some flavor: bacon, frozen peas, cheese, etc. but even with that, I just couldn't stomach him.

after a while I stuck what was left of him in the freezer, hoping that maybe I'd find the will to consume the rest of him some other day.

do you know what a frozen-and-then-thawed mixture of cabbage, cottage cheese, mayo, and gelatin looks and tastes like?

bad. the answer is: bad.

I threw him out pretty quickly after thawing him.

do not try this recipe at home)

#food crimes #vintage recipe #vintage cooking #frosty slaw man #frosty the slaw man #hellmann's #best foods #(like the brand not the concept of the slaw man)#(he is not the best food. he will haunt me. never again)#I could improve upon him tbh. like there's definitely a form of this that could be edible #but I'd do it with cream cheese for structural integrity instead of gelatin and cottage cheese #he could be more of a cheese ball #that'd be fine #but this? no. don't try this #it's a lot of work for too much slaw and not much flavor

382 notes · View notes

revelboo · 2 days ago

Note

God hi I know it SUPER isnt gonna happen like this obvs but I'm just imagining EIA Shockwave Staring at the Two Sparkbonds in the human and is like Quiet and somehow figures out the second is Megatron and he doesnt say SHIT and is just like "Uhhhh yeah. Human's fine. Soundwave, please stay back so we may talk" and Sounders just like "Mkay" and so Star and the human leave and stuff and Soundwave is like "Query: What is it that Shockwave wishes to tell me" and Shockwave is just like "Bestie idk how to say this but I think Lord Megatron is what the humans call a homewrecker." And Soundwave has to play. SO cool about everything.

🤣 Shockwave is just assuming the other bond is Soundwave’s and he just can’t understand the appeal- thinks they’re both deviants. I’ve started going back trying to add warnings to the first chapters of everything, so folks don’t get surprised if the run into my stories in the wilds of Tumblr

Psst psst @thegarageafterdark aka Storm is one of my writer buddies who convinced me to even consider Transformers smut back in the day and she’s started a Tumblr. She does fated mates Transformers stuff for Bayverse and G1

Everything Is Alright Pt 129

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Wincing as Shockwave just stares at you, you’re not about to admit the other bond is Megatron’s. Can’t imagine the Decepticon leader would want that to get out. And Soundwave rescues you by reaching out to run a servo affectionately against your cheek. Making Shockwave stare at him instead, antenna back. You’re pretty sure the scientist just thinks you’re all three a bunch of freaks at this point. If he realized Megatron was also involved, he’d probably literally blow a gasket. “If a spark was to form from a full bond-” Starscream begins and Shockwave growls.

• “Illogical,” Shockwave snarls, turning away with his scanner, studying the readings. Wings lifting in affront, Starscream growls back at the scientist. Not liking the other mech’s dismissive tone. “No sparks are possible with an organic,” Shockwave adds, tone almost angry. Like the very fact that he wanted to spark you is deviant. That he wants you is obscene. Tempting him to lash out at the bigger mech to defend you. Except you might get hurt if he does, worry for you chaining his temper. But it’s something he can’t forget or forgive even if they will need his skills eventually.

• Servo trembling where he’s got it against your cheek, Soundwave wants to take you from Starscream. Press his face against you to feel the beat of your heart, your warmth. Unable to really believe that he can have this without risking everything else he has. And the Seeker scowls at him when he gives in and cups his hands around you, lifting you close. “Little one.” Just needs to hold you, to ground himself in you, because he can repair that broken bond now without any guilt. Can really have everything.

• Gently pinned against his battle mask, you’re aware of the way Shockwave stiffens. Apparently not liking the display of affection. Or you. Pretty sure that he has some sort of issue with you in particular that you can’t figure out. Maybe he’s just xenophobic? And nobody has answered your ‘how long do Cybertronians live’ question which is beginning to worry you. There’s a niggling little worry in the back of your mind about that. Because you’d been in Star and Megatron’s memories and there’d been a lot to parse through, but no real concrete sense of time. Startling when Soundwave retracts his mask and brushes his mouth against your body, apparently not caring about Shockwave watching. Had he been really worried about how long humans live?

• Wings flicking as Soundwave rubs his face against you, venting softly, Starscream wants to be angry still about you and the communications officer. To resent that you love him, too. To ask who you love more even if he’s terrified of what your answer would be. Reminding himself that you’d chosen him. Bonded fully to him. No one can take that from him. “We got our answers,” he mutters, because as entertaining as watching the scientist’s obvious discomfort watching Soundwave is, he wants some quiet time with you. Wants to talk without Soundwave or Megatron listening in. Pretend it’s just you two like it had been back then when he was happiest. Figure out this new dynamic with the other two. His new Trine.

• Following Starscream out into the hall, he’s aware that he’s getting looks. That most of the Decepticons aren’t used to seeing his exposed face. Or it could be you as he nuzzles against your body to make you squirm with breathless little protests. And he stops short when the Seeker stops, wings lifting before Starscream starts laughing. Leaning, he looks down at Rumble and Frenzy and the little human they have in tow, Rumble’s arm around them. “Oh. Hi, boss,” Rumble says as Frenzy tries to pull the human into his arms. Head lifting to stare at Thundercracker, the Seeker carrying plastic boxes full of stuff, his wings flaring like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. And you’re twisting to look too as the other human notices you and waves. “So, we need our own habsuite,” Rumble adds as Starscream keeps laughing.

#transformers x reader #starscream x reader #megatron x reader #soundwave x reader #megatron #soundwave #starscream

188 notes · View notes

fkinkindagauche · 2 days ago

Text

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #my fics #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steddiebingo #steddiebingoroundone

141 notes · View notes

001x456 · 3 days ago

Note

any 457 fic recs?

In-ho x Gi-hun fic recs

credits to the respective authors! ♡

*some of them are wholesome fluff, but some may contain topics that can be triggering, taboo and considered “dark theme” in nature; so after tapping the links, make sure you read the tags first (actually, since I'm a sucker for whump, spicy and fucked up stuff, most of them are 'dead dove do not eat', so be warned)

Overthrown

Seong Gi-hun isn't the only enemy the Front Man has. It takes him too long to realize that. Or, Front Man's right hand man, the Officer, with the help of the Soldiers, plans to take him down. And In-ho has been too blind to see the betrayal coming. (Ironic enough, it turns out the one who's too trusting isn't Gi-hun.)

Obedience and Oblivion (NSFW)

Dragged back into the shadows of the games, Gi-hun finds himself bound not just by chains but by the quiet, unnerving pull of the man who holds him captive. The Front Man offers him comfort wrapped in control, tenderness laced with possession. As lines blur between survival and submission, freedom and desire, Gi-hun must decide: will he rise above, or let himself fall deeper into the arms of the enemy?

and I found love where it wasn't supposed to be, right in front of me

"Young-il was a good person. He was my friend. And you killed him because all he wanted was to save his family."

"Gi-hun —" In-ho quickly stopped and shut his mouth when he realized he was letting it slip. He's Player 456 to you now, and you're not Young-il anymore, warned the voices in his head.

You're the Front Man and he's Player 456. Young-il and Gi-hun are no more. And that ache, the sudden surge of pain in In-ho's chest, In-ho could never seem to understand.

all I worship and adore (NSFW)

After the tenth year anniversary of his wife's death, In-ho decided it was time for him to feel something else that wasn't grief. He found himself in a shady brothel with a companion of an overly friendly, overly awkward sex worker named Seong Gi-hun. (It's fine, right? It's merely physical pleasure and nothing more. This does not mean you're betraying her, it does not mean you're moving on, or so In-ho told himself.)

loving you is a losing game

Gasping and gurgling and choking on his own blood, In-ho's eyes remain fixated on Gi-hun and Jun-ho.

Mister Right

“Hwang Inho,” His assailant introduced stiffly and rattled off a lengthy sequence of numbers. “Eh?” They’d given Gihun something for the pain and it was making him a little dizzy. “My name and badge number,” The man said, his jaw clenched tight as he advised, “you should lodge a formal complaint to the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency when you are able to walk, sir.” “Oh…ok.” “Did you remember what I just said?” Gihun’s head lolled. He blinked groggily at the figure dressed in all black. “Are you my nurse? This needle in my arm hurts. Could you blow on it?” The man didn’t move. “Please?” He whined, blinking back tears.

One Way Ticket (NSFW)

Gi-hun arrives in a foreign land brimming with hope and dreams of starting a new life with the woman he’s convinced is his soulmate. But when things start to unravel, and the truth of his situation becomes painfully clear, he finds himself at the mercy of a stranger—Hwang In-ho, a man who sees opportunity in Gi-hun’s desperation.

Final Game

In which In-ho tries running away from his own self, his guilt, doubt and feelings. (Gi-hun is handcuffed to a bed, yet In-ho finds himself the one in chains, unable to run away.)

Material Girl

“I’m not a prostitute,” The man sitting in the small plastic chair opposite Junho’s work desk repeated. Junho glanced up from the arrest form he was filling out on his computer and studied him. Seong Gihun, age forty-three, resident of Ssangmun-dong. The system showed his only living relative to be his elderly mother. There were numerous citations on file for money issues mostly, but no prostitution. Oh, and today was his birthday. “Officer,” the man said, wringing his hands like an old woman and rocking in his seat, “I swear.” Junho took his fingers off the keyboard and crossed them over his desk. “Ajusshi, I have you on video without your pants in a popular love hotel.”

dead (for a little while) (NSFW)

Gi-hun loses the next game.

Strangely, they don't kill him.

like a good, good dog (NSFW)

"Come on," Thanos — Player 230 — said, "I see the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. A blind person could see you've been yearning for each other. Don't look at me like that, I'm just doing you both a favor here."

"What did you just say?" Gi-hun asked.

"You heard me. Fuck 001. Or die."

In a Truth or Dare game, Gi-hun landed himself with the most absurd dare. In-ho realized the price of his undercover mission may be higher than he thought when he was getting fucked at his own game. Figuratively and literally.

Alternative Universe where no one gets hurt.

Forgotten Vows (NSFW)

Gi-Hun wakes up with a wedding ring on his finger.

Dirty Business (NSFW)

Gi-hun sucks In-ho’s dick while he watches the chaos unfold.

Facilitated Karma

VIPs kind of get whatever they want, here- so when one of them orders to have Gi-hun for a night, In-ho has to comply.

Gi-hun doesn't get the memo.

All Your Pieces (NSFW)

After the failed rebellion, he dissociates on the Frontman's floor.

pick up your stitches (better than your riches) (NSFW)

Gi-hun just looks at him in silence for a moment, studying his frame intently. “How do you live with yourself?"

“I don’t know.”

When he leans in, it’s slow and deliberate. It’s like he’s showing his hands. Begging Gi-hun to squint and pretend they’re clean.

“You can tell me no,” he reminds him. Miraculously, Gi-hun just nods.

Or: Gi-hun and the Frontman meet after the games are through.

wrap my name across your mouth when i let my feelings down (NSFW)

“You haven’t eaten all day,” In-ho reminds him, a note of desperation in his voice. “Let me feed you, Gi-hun.”

Gi-hun’s eyes are unfocused and bloodshot, he notices. There are dark circles underneath them. In-ho chastises himself for not considering the fact that his companion might be sleep deprived.

“Uh, yeah,” Gi-hun awkwardly rubs at his neck with his right hand. “I could eat.”

in the flow of things

“That’s my fish,” Inho snaps, taking a step closer. His voice echoes through the narrow space, sharp with rage. The man chuckles softly. “I mean… define 'your' fish.” Inho blinks, momentarily stunned by the audacity. “Are you serious? You stole it. You've been stealing my fish.” “Borrowing,” the man corrects, raising his finger. “Relocating is the better word, actually. You keep buying more anyway, so I figured-” “Relocating? Are you serious right now?” Inho's voice rises, disbelief flooding his system. He stalks closer, fists clenched. “You’ve been breaking into my apartment and stealing my fish like it’s some kind of hobby?”

or Five times Inho came home to an empty fishbowl, and the one time he finally caught the culprit.

let's drift away in fits of pleasure (NSFW)

Fronting a secret killing game while also taking place in said game was difficult as expected, but the most unexpected inconvenience was that of sneaking out every night to return to In-ho's office. He resorted to excusing himself to the bathroom for long hours during lights out and hoping the others didn’t bother to ask in the haze of their exhaustion.

It was Gi-hun that pushed the boundaries, as he should have learned to expect these days.

Nightmares

Chapter 1: Gihun gets a nightmare and I Inho takes care of him Chapter 2: Inho gets a nightmare and trys to hide it from Gihun because he thinks he deserves to get them

TO YOUR SWEET NOTHING

"You’re up early,” came the dry, familiar voice of In-ho beside Gi-hun. “Early?” Gi-hun snorted, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s almost nine. You call that early?” In-ho grunted, shifting slightly but making no move to get up. “It is when you’ve spent years sleeping with one eye open,” he murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Or, a soft lazy morning between Inho and Gihun

Would You Still Love Me?

In-ho turned back to his microscope, clearly done with the conversation, but his lips twitched into a smile. “Speaking of worms…” “Oh, please no,” Gi-hun groaned. Nothing sane or understandable ever followed that phrase. “Would you still love me if I were a worm?” “Why are you even asking this?” Gi-hun demanded. “Do you plan on turning into a worm?” His eyes widened in mock horror. “Oh my god, did you sign up for some kind of freaky experiment?”

Or, "Would you still love me if I was a worm?" fic featuring Gi-hun and In-ho!

116 notes · View notes

nubiawrites · 2 days ago

Text

chapter seven

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. 18+. Smut. oral (giving and receiving). sex.

Summary: Iriye and Aaron experience a night of firsts.

Notes: FLY EAGLES FLY! Also, I'm excited to finally get this one out because I figured out the ending for this series, so enjoy the ride. It's gonna have some ups and downs. Comment, like, reblog, or send me asks. I want to hear your thoughts as I love responding.

MASTERLIST

Music floated throughout Iriye’s apartment, and Mariah Carey sang about it being her night, which set the mood. She was happy it was Friday and she had a date with Aaron.

For once, Iriye wasn’t on the lot that day, as she had decided to take a me-time day. She started with some Pilates, trying to remember the last time she had been to a class. Her instructor even asked her where she had been after her workout. She then headed for a quick lunch, walked around her favorite used book store, and got her feet and nails done.

Iriye came home and read a few emails before seeing the time and figuring she should get ready. She started getting ready, spending time scrubbing down in the shower. She exited the shower and moisturized, moving on to her skincare. After feeling refreshed, Iriye went to the closet to see what she had to wear.

As Iriye pondered an ankle-length dress, she heard her phone ring and grabbed it. She smiled as she saw who it was.

“How’s my favorite child?” The smooth voice flowed from the phone, Iriye seeing her mother on the screen.

“Mommy, I’m your only child,” Iriye chuckled.

“Same difference,” Eve, Iriye’s mother, stated. “Oh, you got the silk robe we took from the spa day we had. Where you heading out to?”

Iriye bit her lip as she shook her head. That day with her mom had been a trip.

“Who says I’m going out?” Iriye asked.

“You are shea buttered down my dear. You learned that from me. Do you have a date?” Iriye could hear the smile in her mom’s voice.

“Yes,” Iriye said as she sat on her bed, phone in hand. “I’ve been sort of seeing someone.”

“And by seeing someone, you mean having protected sex?” Eve inquired.

“Mom!” Iriye shook her head at her mother. “We are too close.”

“We raised each other practically,” Eve said. Iriye’s mom was merely twenty-two years old when she found out she was pregnant. But her mom was always too cool, even if she knew when to lay down the law. “You’re my grown daughter. I know you be having sex,”

“We haven’t gotten to know each other that biblically,” Iriye stated. “But he’s different than any man I’ve been interested in before.”

“How so?” Iriye picked at a thread on her cover.

“He’s so… authentically himself,” Iriye admitted. “I think sometimes he looks at me with rose-colored glasses.”

“And what’s wrong with that, sweetie?” Eve asked. Iriye sighed.

“Because what happens when he takes them off and sees me? Sees the good and the bad and the ugly,” Iriye admitted.

“Then you see if he likes what he sees or runs away,” Eve declared. “Not every man is like Jay,” Iriye sighed as she thought of Jay.

“You know he still calls Tamara,” Iriye mentioned. “I can’t fault her. They became great friends through me. But it still hurts. I feel like if I just… was a little more bending and willing to shine more-”

“Some men are just not built for women like you. Women like us. Their loss.” Eve shrugged after interrupting her. “You are so beautiful, intelligent, and talented. If a man can’t see that and step out of the way to let you shine, they don’t even deserve to be in your rays or your shadow.”

“I love you so much, Mommy,” Iriye said, trying not to get teary-eyed. It was blunt and straight to the point, but it was the truth served straight up. No chaser needed.

“Now wipe your tears and show me what you’re wearing. Because I know you took my favorite sweater dress, and I will get it back when I come out to visit,” Eve declared. Iriye got up and went to her closet, showing her options to her mother and purposefully skipping over the things she took from her.

Iriye was trying to clasp her bracelet when she heard a knock at the door. She headed out of her bathroom, looking through the peephole and saw Aaron crouching in it. She smiled softly as she opened the door, stepping back to usher him in as she tried to clasp the bracelet.

“Come in. I’m almost ready,” Iriye spoke, still struggling with the bracelet.

“Here,” Aaron shut the door behind him and approached her. “Let me help you,” Iriye tried again, huffing as she didn’t get it. She held her arm, clutching the bracelet in her hand. Aaron reached forward to find the clasp, his fingers gentle against her skin. He concentrated and finally got the clasp, Iriye smiling warmly.

“Thank you,” Iriye kissed him softly, Aaron smiling against her lips. “Hi,”

“Hello,” Aaron’s arms slipped around her waist. “You look-” He pulled back to take her in, his gaze sending a shiver down her spine. “I think there’s not enough words in my vocabulary that can describe how good you look,”

“Maybe I can help you figure some out. You know… since I’m a writer and all,” Iriye winked. Aaron pulled her back in for a deeper kiss. “Don’t we have dinner plans?” She asked against his lips.

“We do,” Aaron said between kisses before pulling back, his hands smoothing down to her waist. “You look so beautiful, love.”

“Thank you.” Iriye pulled away and grabbed her purse. “Lead the way.”

Aaron and Iriye drove in comfortable silence, mixed with pleasantries and an impromptu sing-along to a Sade song they both loved. As they got closer to the heart of downtown LA, she watched as Aaron navigated the streets, and soon, they entered a parking structure.

Aaron got out once they were parked and headed for her door, opening it for her. Iriye let Aaron help her out of the car, and she adjusted her dress. His hand slipped into hers, the tingles shooting up her arm every time they touched. Once they got to the elevator, Aaron pressed the button for the rooftop, and Iriye eyed him for a moment, him catching her eye.

“What’s on your mind?” Aaron asked, his smooth voice falling on her ears.

“The rooftop?” Iriye stated.

“You’ll see,” Aaron said, kissing her hand. She leaned into him softly, watching the numbers tick off as the elevator rose. Once the elevator stopped and opened, Aaron led her out to a hallway with a frosted glass door. They walked down to the door and Aaron held the door open for her

Iriye took in the rooftop, seeing it was an intimate restaurant. Some were seated inside the glass space and others were further outside on the balcony.

“Aaron, this place looks incredible,” Iriye said, turning to see him taking in her reaction.

“I’m happy to hear that, love,” Aaron stated. A hostess came up and led them over to a table outside. Aaron pulled her chair out for her, waiting till she was sat and comfortable before moving to his.

“Where did you find this spot?” Iriye asked, grabbing the menu so she could look at what she wanted.

“A friend I made while working manages it,” Aaron stated. “And the food is amazing.”

“Look how connected you are.” Iriye looked over the menu and saw what she was thinking about for appetizers. The waiter came over to bring them water and take their drink orders. Iriye was taken in by how the sun set and the night came alive in LA. “I love this view.”

“Me too,” Aaron said as he took Iriye in. Words couldn’t even describe how beautiful she looked. Her eyes met his, and a heat came across his skin.

“Stop it,” Iriye felt her cheeks warming up, the pit in her stomach clenching as she took in him looking at her. “You look very handsome yourself.” “I clean up nicely after a long day,” Aaron chuckled, sipping his water.

“Tell me about your day,” Iriye asked. Aaron raised an eyebrow, which she returned with one of her own. “Please,”

Aaron regaled Iriye with stories of set life, how he was faring with his co-stars for the show, and how he was making friends with the crew. He talked about how the craft team had given him a few snacks that he liked, even though he was trying to stay in shape while filming Lanterns. She found it refreshing.

“I really am fortunate to get to do what I love,” Aaron admitted after the waiter took their order for shared appetizers. Iriye took a sip of her drink that was brought over, humming at the fruity cocktail as she listened.

“You know you’re a rarity, right?” Iriye said. Aaron furrowed her brows. “This business has a way of jading people as they climb upwards and onwards. I’ve worked with a few people at different levels and rarely meet people who genuinely love what they’re doing. Who are grateful,”

“That makes me unique?” Blueish grey eyes stared into her soul, and Iriye had to focus.

“It does to me. No matter how big you get, you’re just you. Just Aaron,” Iriye shrugged, taking another drink. “I like that.”

“I’m glad you do.” Aaron took a sip of his drink. “What about yourself?”

“What about me?”

“Do you love what you do? Writing scripts and scenes for unique people like me to act out,” Aaron rattled out. Iriye took a moment to think.

“It’s a love and hate relationship,” Iriye admitted. “There was a time I hated it—four years into living here. I was working as an assistant for an executive. It felt like they were doing everything possible to make me hate my job. Took so much of my sanity. But I was determined to stick it out. And a year and a half later, I proved myself. She said I could be just like her and take her job. That day, I decided to find another job. Anything. I put my notice in and helped train my replacement when I hired them. I worked at a youth center afterward, trying to find peace of mind. During that time, I found happiness in writing about what I could and wanted. Doing Uber Eats and the odd set job. I never wanted to be that… miserable ever again working a nine to five to make someone else feel important.”

“Are you miserable now? Working on Paradise Lost and all?” Aaron asked.

“Not at all. Everything I worked so hard for is coming to fruition.” Iriye stated. “I’m doing what I love with people who love it just as me,” She admitted. A smile took over Aaron’s face as he reached for her hand, stroking it softly when she put it in his hand.

Appetizers came and went, and Aaron’s friend Troy brought the main courses and two drinks. Iriye was intrigued as Aaron and Troy made quick conversation, retelling how they met.

“Never met a more encouraging spotter,” Troy admitted. Aaron crossed his arms over his chest in thank you.

“Anytime, brother.” Troy and Aaron hugged each other up before Troy shook Iriye’s hand in parting.

The conversation over their main course was pleasant. Iriye learned more about how Aaron was the oldest and how he was close to his siblings and family. How he talked about them made her wish she had someone to share the times growing up.

“I feel like I’ve talked too much,” Aaron stated, Iriye picking off his plate since he hadn’t denied her the first time she did.

“Not at all. I find people with siblings interesting.” Iriye shrugged. “I’m an only child.”

“Your parents were one and done?”

“It was just my mom and I.” Iriye took a bite of his food, chewing and swallowing.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Iriye raised her eyebrow at Aaron. “About your father,”

“I’m not,” Iriye stated. “He left when I was eleven. And honestly, it was probably for the best. My mom and I were better off without him.” She said pointedly.

“How so?” Aaron asked her, his eyes searching hers for a truth. Iriye had to look down at her plate, feeling like she was growing harsh with the mention of her father.

“I… I’m not ready to talk about that,” Iriye simply said. She could see that look in his eyes—the one to dig deeper. “I just feel like it’ll ruin the night.”

“It won’t,” Aaron assured her.

“For me, it will.” Iriye wasn’t sure if she was ready to let Aaron know how she felt about the man responsible for half of who she was.

“I’m not going to pressure you,” Aaron said. “But just know, I’m ready whenever you are,” Iriye relaxed in her chair, those words washing over her. No pressure. Just patience.

“Thank you.”

By the time the check arrived, anticipation was the name of the game. Iriye was sipping her water, as Aaron had asked.

“I don’t want you falling asleep on me,” Aaron teased, Iriye watching as he wrote his signature. Iriye playfully let her heeled foot slide against the inside of his leg, watching as he stopped writing for a moment.

“Focus,” Iriye spoke, taking another sip of her water. Not even its coldness could calm the heat burning through her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Iriye.” Aaron felt her foot gently stroking his leg.

“It’s not a bad thing if we both win.” Iriye placed the cup down. “Yours or mine?”

“What are you asking, love?”

“Your place or mine,” Iriye raised a brow. Aaron put his card back in his wallet before sipping his water. Iriye raised her foot high along his leg. She was just so close when-

“You’re something else, Iriye Edwards,” Aaron had her ankle in one hand.

“What can I say? I know what I want. What do you want?” Iriye asked. She felt his fingers rolling her ankle softly in his hands. Aaron licked his bottom lip, those eyes of his growing darker.

“What I want… is to know how you look lying spread out on my bed,” Aaron breathed. Those words made Iriye take a deep breath, unable to break eye contact with him.

“That’s someth-”

“I’m not done,” Aaron interrupted. Iriye shut her mouth quickly, hoping no one else focused on them. “I want to be inside of you every way I can. See how you look when you give in to the pleasure I can bring you, Iriye.” Iriye caught the Jamaican twang at the end of his words and felt the anticipation roll up her back. “Smell your scent on my sheets, even after you leave. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” Iriye breathed. Aaron smiled.

“Then let’s go,”

Iriye was buzzing as Aaron led her out of the restaurant and back to his car, her clutching onto his arm. It was the comfortable silence, fueled with the thrumming of her heart as she was mentally preparing for what was to come.

But all of it was thrown to the wind once they reached Aaron’s apartment and entered. Iriye didn’t have time to process as the door shut behind her, Aaron pressing her up against it as he kissed her.

Moans left Iriye’s mouth and found a home in Aaron’s. All the self control he held onto left as his hands went to her hips, sliding over her ass as Iriye wrapped her arms around his neck.

Chest to chest, Iriye felt their clothes were a burden. She moved to push her hands under his suit jacket until Aaron pulled away from the kiss to shrug it off.

“You look so sexy in that dress… I can’t wait to see it on the floor,” Aaron groaned. Iriye giggled as he dragged her to the bedroom, Iriye trying her best not to trip over anything.

Once inside the bedroom, lips clashed against as Iriye let her hands slide under Aaron’s shirt. He got the memo and backed Iriye to the bed until she fell into the familiar mattress. She leaned up to watch Aaron lift his shirt from his body, muscles and abs underneath the caramel skin.

“You can’t be real.” Iriye hummed, taking him in. Aaron smirked, grabbing her hand and dragging it down his abs.

“I am. All for you,” Aaron groaned, feeling her nails dragging softly against the skin. She sat up more, making quick work of his belt and unzipping his pants. The peek of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs made him even more appealing to her.

Iriye slipped her hands into Aaron’s pants, helping him get the pants and his boxer briefs down, seeing the one-eyed monster between his legs. She kept her eyes on him as she let her tongue lick at the underside of his length, a groan escaping Aaron.

Aaron’s hand slipped to Iriye’s goddess locs, seeing he was trying to regain some sense of control as Iriye worked the tip of his length into her mouth. She focused on the head, finding it was her favorite part of his length so far. She wanted to spend the night playing with it and discovering what made him tick.

“Jesus,” Aaron breathed, peering down at Iriye playing with the slit of his cock, tongue wiggling against it. She was a pro. He pulled back, watching Iriye’s mouth fall open as she moaned for more. “You look so sexy.” Aaron slid his cock against her lips and she sucked the head into her mouth playfully. “Open those pretty lips for me, baby girl,”

Iriye smiled before letting her mouth fall open, Aaron pushing his length in her mouth. She whined, relaxing as she let him fuck her mouth. One hand went to grip his ass as she encouraged him to fuck her mouth. The other one went to her dress, tugging up the skirt. She slipped her hands between her thighs, moaning around his length as she touched herself through her wet panties.

Aaron thrust a little faster into Iriye’s mouth, her gagging some. She grasped onto his ass as he pulled back, licking up to see his eyes were half hooded and his hand grasping into her hair. Iriye went deeper, seeing how much more his jaw dropped.

“Fuck…” Aaron breathed and Iriye pulled back to suck before taking him deep again, her hand moving her panties aside and slipping her fingers inside, fucking herself and moaning around him.

Iriye took him down further, gagging around his length as she relaxed, hearing Aaron praising her as she sucked him slowly. She wanted to savor him but she was fucking herself, her pussy growing wetter. She felt one of Aaron’s free hands trail down to the arm fucking herself.

“I can hear how wet that pussy is Iriye,” Aaron groaned. “Bet your fingers—- fuck—- feel so good inside. But not as good as mine.” Iriye nodded, moaning once again. She whined as he pulled back, seeing him kick off his pants. Iriye was about to take off her dress when Aaron grasped her hand, pulling it out of her panties. Her jaw dropped as he sucked her juices off of her fingers, moaning around them.

Iriye pressed her lips against Aaron’s, tasting their juices together as they kissed. His hands pushed her dress up and lifted it, leaving her in the black lacy bra and panties. Her bra was next, his hands slipping them down her shoulder as they kissed. She was bare to him except for her panties. Iriye pulled away, her staring into his darkened eyes and licking her lip.

“Aaron, I need you,” Iriye moaned as she moved her hand around his length, giggling when he groaned at her touch. “Please…”

“Please, what? Tell me what you need, love.” Aaron kissed her again.

“Aaron, please fuck me,” Iriye was helpless to her pleasure, needing him. She felt him pull away from the bed, reaching into his bedside drawer and opening a box of gold foil condoms, his length bobbing as he moved.

Aaron helped her up the bed, his fingers landing on her panties and pulling them off. Iriye moaned as he pushed her legs apart, seeing Aaron lowering to her pussy. “I need you.” She let her hands trail down his shoulders and dug into his shoulders softly.

Iriye let out a moan as he licked at her pussy, seeing her juices on Aaron’s lips.

“Please, Aaron.” Iriye begged. Aaron smirked up at her from between her legs. “Since you’re using your words,” Aaron trailed kisses up her body, her skin heating up more and more. Iriye moaned and kissed him back when he made it to her lips.

Aaron grabbed the condom, using his teeth to open it. He slipped it on as Iriye’s hand slipped to rub her clit and Aaron pushed it away. His condom covered length pushed between her lower lips, teasing her clit and a gasp came out of her. He slid his length between her lips a few more times, whines leaving her body as he teased her.

“Iriye…” Aaron groaned, sliding between her lips one more time before he grasped her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me. Let me know if you need me to stop.” Iriye nodded, her eyes locking on his. She felt him at her entrance, and he pushed in, Iriye gasping out.

Aaron could feel how warm she was through the condom, his length fitting inside of her like a glove. He had to focus as he fantasized about the moment he would feel all of Iriye wrapped around him. But his late-night and daytime thoughts were nothing compared to the reality below him, her legs beside his hip as his body pressed into hers.

Iriye tried her best not to squeeze around him, wanting to feel all of him, and she was.

“You feel so good, Aaron,” Iriye moaned, already beginning to feel intoxicated with lust. She cupped his cheek to pull him in for a kiss. “Move, please.” “Yes,” Aaron raised himself on his arms, pulling his length out before pushing back in, slow thrusts making Iriye whine. Her hands dragged from his hips to his back, nails grasping onto the caramel skin as she tried to focus on anything but Aaron taking her.

Iriye rolled her hips against Aaron, and groans fell from his lips. She could see he kept his chain on, and she leaned to kiss him. The way his eyes caught hers, the sight too much for Iriye to focus on so she kissed him, letting him swallow all the moans and gasps that came from her.

“Shit Iriye,” Aaron moaned against her lips. The moans, groans and smack of flesh meeting wet pussy filled the room.

“You’re fucking me so good,” Iriye cried out. “Harder, baby.” Aaron obliged her, hips moving deeper and faster into her. “Just like that,” Iriye’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. His hips moved into her, colliding with the flesh of her skin. Iriye wrapped her legs around his waist. Keeping him closer as he dug deeper into her.

“You like being filled like this?” Aaron breathed.

“Mhm,”

“That’s not good enough,” Aaron said, giving her a hard thrust into the fleshy spot that had a cry coming from Iriye. “Tell me. Talk to me, Iriye,” He groaned.

“It feels… it feels like you were meant to be inside me.” Iriye licked her lips, the lewd sounds of his cock moving inside of her echoed in his room.

Aaron watched her for a moment, seeing how her breasts moved with every thrust, the different sounds coming out of her as he moved a certain way. It made him want to lose it quickly, and he was okay with that as long as she came first. He could feel her walls tightening, and Iriye was getting worked up. That just made him thrust harder into her, her cries building more and more. Her pussy tightening around him as he coaxed her orgasm from her with his hard cock.

“Iriye…” He groaned, one of his hands sliding to her ass, to pull her harder into him. Her toes clenched at the feeling, liking how he was manhandling her as she grew closer.

“Don’t stop,” Iriye cried, her hand sliding down between them, her fingers finding her clit and rubbing it. Seeing her touching herself made Aaron focus on hitting her G-spot, the cries and moans between them making their breathing erratic and their movements following suit.

“Oh shit,”

“Yes! Right there,”

“Iriye!” Aaron growled into her ear as he rolled himself into her, feeling the pit in his stomach grow. His balls tightened up and he moved faster, needing her to cum first.

“Shit! Oh! Aaron,” Iriye rubbed her clit faster, cries leaving her body as his thrust becane faster. With a grasp of her ass to pull her against him, the damn broke and Iriye cried out as she came, her juices spilling and coating the condom.

Her walls tightening as she came had Aaron stuttering in a thrust before he fastened his pace once more, drawing Iriye’s orgasm out. It took him ix more wet thrust before he spilled into the condom, pulling Iriye’s hips closer to him. Iriye pressed kisses against his lips, cheeks, and shoulders, clutching onto him as they moved together, riding out their orgasms.

Their hips slowed, sweat clinging to their bodies as Aaron struggled not to suffocate her beneath the weight of his body. However, Iriye pulled him closer. Once he had regained his strength, he dragged them further up the bed. Iriye giggled as she felt his kisses all over her face before he found her lips. She moaned into his mouth as his hand rested on her stomach, and she whined. Aaron pulled out of her, and she whimpered, feeling her juices spilling out. He kissed down her body, lips moving to kiss and suck at her hard nipples.

“Aaron…” Iriye whined as she dragged her nails over his head as he kissed down. “You gotta…” She arched against him when he kissed down the softness of her bell, his tongue licking between her folds. “Let me catch my breath.”

“You got it, love.” He spread her legs over his shoulders. “Just breathe and let me taste you till you’re ready for round two.”

Iriye watched as Aaron devoured her, her night just beginning.

@wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp @hippiesandpeacesigns @blowmymbackout @justagirlwho-believes13 @caribbeangyalsworld @melovedorks @moihasarrived @ashanti-notthesinger @xx-mintyxx @iluvchrisbrown @ash-ketchumzzz @deijalee @pyramidlight @xosharieee @kaylaahisthebestest- @chaniceandrea @kimmivlixx @saveadanc @kaylalb @queenbritbrat @kceeee @naughtynolly-blog @myawesome56 @chainingxday @nononoks-blog @kinginwithbreezy-blog @apple123cg @jazziejax @lauren1000000 @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @venusincleo @loveschrisbrown20 @brwnskingirlll @iamfredtina @cozyashhh @modelmemoirs @kimiasinterlude @rpayn22 @mscarter123 @lolola22267 @thesweetestdrug @valarghoulis @nyifly22 @zimsilandela @teheeboo @blveeeeeee @5starsirl @yassbishimvintage @23jammy @prettiegal @vadeadiugularis @gabbywontlose @pinkkycherrish @slashervalley @aqueenwasmadehere @lee-jennie @wuzzzgoood

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre fanfic #aaron pierre fic #terry richmond smut #aaron pierre smut #terry richmond fanfic #terry richmond fic

56 notes · View notes

iamquiantrelle · 1 day ago

Text

THURAM'S NO. 1 ANGEL (chapter 1) ────iamquaintrelle

# pairing: marcus thuram x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# wc: 4.5k

# tags: @irishmanwhore @sucredreamer @coffeevacation @hopefulromantic1 @jessnotwiththemess

# summary: shanice carter-ricci didn't expect to become part-owner of inter milan at forty, but here she is - fresh off a divorce from her italian ex and ready to shake up serie a. she's got plans to bring some much-needed diversity and fresh energy to those stuffy executive boxes. what she doesn't plan on? getting tangled up with marcus thuram, the team's star striker who's fourteen years younger and infamous for his rotation of gorgeous girlfriends known as "thuram's angels." soon shanice is finding out that age ain't nothing but a number… and maybe it's time for this angel investor to shake up thuram's roster. masterlist.

# a/n: this will be a mini fic series with thirteen parts unless there's no engagement.

Shanice pulled her Hermes scarf tighter as she walked through the VIP entrance of San Siro. Even after six months, it still felt weird being part owner of Inter Milan. Like, how did her ex-husband's obsession become her fresh start at forty? The divorce from Alessandro had at least given her this, along with keeping her sanity intact.

The players' tunnel was empty and quiet since practice ended hours ago. As the new VP of Community Relations, she told herself she needed to know every inch of her investment. But honestly? She just loved how the place felt when no one was around.

That's when she heard it - deep laughter and rapid French echoing off the walls. Before she could place where it was coming from, she literally walked right into what felt like a wall of muscle in Inter training gear.

"Shit, I'm sorry!" Marcus Thuram's face broke into that infamous grin of his as his hands steadied her shoulders. Behind him, three gorgeous women watched the scene unfold, all gorgeous in that Instagram-ready way. So these were the famous "Angels" everyone gossiped about.

"Mrs. Ricci," he said, recognition lighting his eyes. "I didn't expect to meet our new owner like this." His English was good, touched with just enough French to be straight up dangerous.

"Just Shanice now," she corrected him. "The divorce was finalized in June." Why the hell did she share that? There was just something about his open, playful expression that made you want to spill your whole life story.

"Ah, fresh starts," he nodded sagely, though his eyes danced with mischief. "I'm somewhat of an expert in those. New club, new city…" He gestured at the women behind him. "New friends."

One of the Angels - this tall drink of water with honey-blonde weave - cleared her throat like she was tired of waiting.

"Speaking of friends," Marcus said with an apologetic grin, "we have dinner reservations. But maybe we could discuss community outreach programs sometime? I have some ideas."

Shanice found herself nodding before she could stop herself. This man's charm should be illegal for real. "My office is always open to players."

"Good!" He was already backing away, the Angels falling into formation around him like they'd rehearsed it. "Though fair warning - I might try to convince you to sponsor a sneaker design competition for local kids."

She watched him disappear down the corridor, her daughters' voices already playing in her head. Thirteen-year-old Dream would absolutely lose it if she knew mom had just met her favorite player. And nine-year-old Heaven would've been all over his shoes, trying to figure out if they were some limited drop.

Pulling out her phone, Shanice added "look into sneaker comps?" to her notes. She tried to ignore how her skin was still buzzing where his hands had been.

She had way too much on her plate to be thinking about a fine as hell 27-year-old footballer with a rotating cast of girlfriends. Even if his smile could probably power all of Milan.

Shaking her head, Shanice continued down the tunnel, her heels clicking against the concrete. Football had always been Alessandro's thing, not hers. Every weekend for years, he'd take Dream and Heaven to the matches while she built her empire hosting events and securing those luxury brand deals. Not that she minded - somebody had to be the practical one, the hustler making things happen while he played football owner with his rich friends.

But now? Now she owned a piece of one of the biggest clubs in Europe. The irony wasn't lost on her. She might not know every player's stats like Dream did, or care about formation tactics like Alessandro had, but she knew business. She knew how to make things grow. And honestly? Serie A could use some diversity in the owner's boxes - not just on the pitch.

"Time to make some noise," she muttered to herself, running her hand along the tunnel wall. Dream had screamed for ten minutes straight when Shanice told her about the divorce settlement. Not because of the divorce - they'd all seen that coming - but because her mom now owned part of her favorite team. Heaven had just rolled her eyes in that way only a nine-year-old could and asked if this meant she could players’ shoe collections.

Back in her modeling days, Shanice never imagined she'd end up here. But that hustle had never left her blood, even after she'd transitioned from walking runways to running events. Her network was crazy - fashion houses, celebrities, influencers, business moguls - all on speed dial because they knew she could make magic happen. Alessandro might've laughed at her "little parties" at first, but he shut up real quick when her connections started bringing serious money and clout to his business ventures.

She pulled out her phone again, scrolling through her contacts. Maybe it was time to bring that same energy to Inter. These stuffy old Italian football clubs needed to wake up and realize the game was changing. Social media, fashion collabs, global branding - that's where the real money was. And with her connections? She could open doors these men in their expensive suits hadn't even thought to look for.

The image of Marcus Thuram's smile flashed through her mind again. She had to admit - at least the view at work was going to be nice. Real nice. Even if he was young enough to make her feel like a whole cougar for even thinking about it.

Her phone lit up with a message from Dream: "MOMMM did you see any players today? 👀"

Shanice grinned, deciding to torture her daughter a little. "Maybe. Just walked around the tunnel a bit."

"OMG WHO???"

"Nobody special. Just some tall guy. French, I think? Had a few girlfriends with him..."

"MARCUS?!?! YOU MET MARCUS THURAM AND YOU'RE JUST NOW TELLING ME?! I'm literally dying. Did he do the smile? You know the one. Heaven says you better have checked his shoes!"

Shanice laughed out loud in the empty tunnel. Trust her kids to have their priorities straight - Dream thirsting over that smile and Heaven focused on the sneaker game. Like mother, like daughters - she hadn't missed those Jordan 1s he was wearing either.

"You're supposed to be doing homework," she texted back. "And yes, he smiled. No, I didn't catalog his shoe collection. I was kind of busy being professional."

The string of crying emojis that followed made her shake her head. She'd created a monster when she agreed to let Alessandro take Dream to that Inter Milan match three years ago. Now her daughter's room looked like a shrine to them - posters, jerseys, the works. Heaven wasn't much better, except her wall was covered in pictures of players' rare sneaker collections that she'd printed out.

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was her assistant reminding her about tomorrow's marketing meeting. Right. Back to reality. She had actual work to do, strategies to plan, a whole department to run. She couldn't be out here acting like her teenage daughter, getting flustered over a pretty smile and some designer kicks.

Even if that smile did make her forget she was supposed to be a whole grown woman with responsibilities.

"At least tell me if the Angels were as pretty in person as they look on Instagram!" Dream's next text popped up.

Shanice rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, Dream. Do your homework."

But as she headed toward her office, she couldn't help but wonder exactly how one got an invitation to join Thuram's Angels. Not that she was interested. At all.

She was way too old for that drama.

Probably.

*********************************************

Shanice's office was her sanctuary in the chaos of training days. Up here in the executive level, she could see the players running drills on the practice field below. Not that watching was doing her any good right now - she'd been staring at the same sponsorship proposal for twenty minutes straight.

Her phone buzzed. Dream again, probably spamming her with more TikToks of Marcus's training highlights. Her teenager had been insufferable since finding out mom was technically her idol's boss. Heaven was slightly more chill about it, but only because she was more interested in his sneaker collection than his football skills.

But it wasn't Dream. It was an Inter Milan internal number.

Marcus? Why is he calling her?

"Shouldn't you be training right now?" Shanice answered, trying to keep her voice professional despite the smile tugging at her lips.

"Water break," Marcus's voice was warm through the speaker. "And I hear you have an excellent coffee machine in your office. Much better than the one in players' lounge."

"Are you really trying to schmooze the boss for better coffee when you should be hydrating?"

"I would never," he gasped in mock offense. "I'm trying to schmooze the boss for both better coffee AND funding for my sneaker competition. I'm an excellent multitasker."

She shouldn't find that as funny as she did. "Fine. After training tomorrow? And yes, the coffee is excellent."

"Perfect. I'll bring my presentation. You bring your coffee machine's A-game."

"Get back to practice," she said, but she was grinning like a fool.

"Yes, boss," he chuckled before hanging up.

Shanice leaned back in her chair, trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach. This was business. Just business. Even if his voice did things to her that should be classified as a cardiac event.

Her phone buzzed again - Dream for real this time. "Mom mom mom did you see Marcus's new training pics? His fit is actually insane!"

Shanice glanced down at the practice field, where she could just make out number 9 jogging back to rejoin his teammates.

Just. Business.

The rest of her day was a blur of meetings and calls - sponsorship negotiations, community program reviews, endless emails about jersey designs. She was good at this part. Numbers, strategies, making shit happen - that's what got her here, not knowing the difference between a free kick and a corner kick.

On her way out, she nearly ran into Simone Inzaghi, Inter's manager. He'd been trying to get her to actually watch a match from the owner's box instead of just handling the business side.

"Shanice! This Saturday, yes? You'll come?" His English was getting better, but his hopeful expression did most of the talking.

She adjusted her Birkin on her shoulder. "Still not a football fan, coach."

"I will change this," he declared, shaking his head with a laugh. "I will beg if needed."

"We'll see," she smiled, already knowing she wouldn't. She had enough football talk from her daughters - she didn't need to add live matches to the mix.

The drive home to her Lake Como villa was usually her decompression time. Twenty minutes of pure luxury car silence, winding along the lakeside, watching the sun set behind the mountains. But today, that peace was shattered by the sight of a familiar Maserati in her driveway.

"What the fuck, Alex?" she muttered, pulling her Porsche in beside it. They had a custody arrangement for a reason. Wednesday wasn't his day.

Sure enough, when she walked in, Alessandro was in her kitchen like he still owned the place, stirring something that smelled suspiciously good while Heaven played sous chef. Dream was sprawled on the kitchen island bench, scrolling through her phone like this was just another regular Wednesday night.

"Ooh! Mama's home!" Heaven squealed, abandoning her post to launch herself at Shanice.

She caught her baby girl, hugging and kissing her while pinning her ex with a look that could freeze the whole lake. "Alex, a moment please."

Alessandro had the nerve to look completely unbothered as he handed Heaven the wooden spoon. "Keep stirring the sauce, tesoro."

Shanice led him to her home office, shutting the door with maybe a little more force than necessary. The room was her space - all clean lines and modern art, not a single piece of football memorabilia in sight. Unlike the rest of the house, which had slowly been taken over by Dream's Inter Milan shrine.

"What are you doing here, Alex? It's not your day."

He leaned against her desk like he used to do when this was their house, not just hers. Still fine as hell in that tailored suit, still wearing that Rolex she'd given him for their tenth anniversary. Still irritating as fuck.

"The girls called. Said they missed my cooking." His accent got thicker when he was trying to charm his way out of trouble. "You know how Heaven loves my pasta alla vodka."

"They have phones. You have a phone. A heads up would've been nice."

"Ah, but then you might have said no." He flashed that smile that used to make her weak in the knees. Now it just made her want to throw something at him. "Besides, I heard through the grapevine that you met our new striker today. Thought you might want to... compare notes."

Shanice's eyes narrowed. "You're here because of Marcus Thuram?"

"I'm here because of pasta," he corrected, but his eyes were laughing at her. "But since you brought him up..."

"Don't start, Alex." She moved behind her desk, putting some space between them. "I had one conversation with him about community programs. That's it."

"Mhmm. And tomorrow you have coffee." He examined his nails like this was casual conversation. "In your office. Alone."

"How do you even-" She stopped herself. Of course he knew. Half the board was probably still loyal to him. "It's a business meeting."

"With the guy Dream has plastered all over her walls?" His smile turned knowing. "The one with the harem of models?"

"The Angels," she corrected automatically, then wanted to kick herself.

"Ah, so you know about that." He pushed off the desk, moving closer. "Listen, tesoro-"

"Don't 'tesoro' me. We're not married anymore."

"Fine. Listen, Shanice." He held up his hands in surrender, but his eyes were still dancing with amusement. "I just want you to be careful. Marcus is... how do you Americans say it? A player. On and off the field."

She felt her temper rising. "Are you seriously in my house, uninvited, trying to warn me about a man like I'm some teenage girl? I'm forty, Alex. I own half your shares in Inter. I think I can handle a meeting with a footballer."

"Of course you can," he said smoothly. "You can handle everything. Always could. Just..." He paused at the door. "Maybe wear something less..." He gestured vaguely at her outfit.

"Get the fuck out of my office."

"Mama!" Heaven's voice saved Alex from whatever Shanice was about to throw at him. "The sauce is bubbling!"

"We're not done," Shanice warned him as she brushed past.

His low chuckle followed her down the hall. "We never are, bella. We never are."

In the kitchen, Dream had finally looked up from her phone. "Did you really talk to Marcus again today?" Of course, that's what got her attention.

"She did," Alex answered before Shanice could, stirring the sauce Heaven had abandoned. "And she's having coffee with him tomorrow."

The shriek Dream let out could probably be heard all the way in Milan. "OH MY GOD MOM! You have to tell me everything! What was he wearing? Did you see his sneakers? Was he nice? Were the Angels there? Is he even hotter in person? Can you get me his autograph? Or better yet, can you–"

"Dream." Shanice cut off the stream of questions. "Homework. Now."

"But Mom-"

"Now."

Heaven giggled at her sister's dramatic sigh. "I just want to know if his shoes were limited edition."

"Both of you, homework. Alex-" She turned to her ex, who was now plating pasta like he belonged there. "Next time, call first."

"Of course," he said with that infuriating smile. "I wouldn't want to interrupt any... business meetings."

Shanice decided right then that she was absolutely wearing her tightest dress tomorrow. And those Louboutins that made her legs look like they went on for days.

Purely for business reasons, of course.

Shanice stood in front of her closet the next morning, eyeing her options like she was planning a battle strategy. And maybe she was. That Roland Mouret dress had been collecting dust since Milan Fashion Week - the black one that hugged every curve like it was painted on, with that strategic slit that made her legs look endless. Perfect for making a point to her ex-husband about exactly what she could and couldn't handle.

"That's the one," she muttered, pulling it out. The fabric alone probably cost more than most people's monthly rent, but that's what you got for twenty years of fashion industry connections. She paired it with those red-bottom stilettos that had their own insurance policy - six inches of "fuck you" to anyone who thought forty meant invisible.

Her reflection in the full-length mirror had her feeling satisfied. The dress did everything it was supposed to do - snatched her waist, highlighted those gym sessions she'd been religious about since the divorce, and made her ass look like it was advertising something exclusive. Her hair were swept up in a French roll showing off the diamond earrings Alex had gotten her for their fifteenth anniversary. Petty? Maybe. But she wore divorce well.

"Damn, Mom!" Dream's voice made her turn. Her daughter was standing in the doorway, already in her school uniform. "Is this what you're wearing to meet Marcus?"

"This is what I'm wearing to work," Shanice corrected, but she couldn't help smiling at Dream's knowing look. "Don't you have a bus to catch?"

"Can't you just admit you're trying to get his attention? I mean, I've seen the Angels, but they don't have anything on you in that dress."

"Everything’s packed?"

Dream rolled her eyes. "Yes, but-"

"Bus. Now."

But as she walked into Inter's offices two hours later, the click of her Louboutins echoing off marble floors, Shanice had to admit her daughter might have had a point. This wasn't just a work outfit. This was a statement.

She just wasn't sure who she was making it to.

Maria's eyes went wide when she walked in. "Ms. Carter, the coffee machine is ready and-" she paused, taking in the outfit "-Mr. Thuram called to confirm he'll be here after morning training."

"Perfect." Shanice tried to ignore the little flutter in her stomach at his name. "Any other messages?"

"Mr. Ricci called." Maria's expression was carefully neutral. "Twice."

Of course he did. "Any actual emergencies?"

"He said something about wanting to make sure you got his advice about appropriate business attire."

Shanice's laugh was sharp. "I bet he did." She strode into her office, the dress moving exactly like it was designed to. "Hold my calls unless it's about the sponsorship deal. Or Mr. Thuram," she added, because Maria would assume anyway.

Her office was ready - coffee machine prepped with those specialty beans, a view of the practice field below (not that she was looking), and enough actual work on her desk to remind herself why she was really here.

But when she caught her reflection in the window, all dangerous curves and boss energy, she had to smile. Alex always did hate it when she dressed like this for business meetings. Said it was distracting.

That was kind of the point.

The sound of cleats on marble made her pause in reviewing contracts. He was early. She could hear Maria's professional greeting, followed by that deep laugh that somehow managed to sound like trouble even through walls.

Shanice stood, smoothing down her dress.

Game time.

Marcus didn't even try to hide how his eyes traveled up from those Louboutins when Maria showed him in. She caught his muttered "good damn" before he switched to that media-ready smile.

"What was that?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Nothing," he recovered smoothly, but his eyes were still taking in the dress like he was memorizing it. "Thanks for making time for me."

"Coffee?" She gestured to the machine, using the moment of turning away to hide her smile. That reaction had been worth every euro of this dress.

"Please." He settled into one of her visitor chairs like he owned it, all long legs and easy confidence.

"Should we be expecting any other visitors today?"

The question was casual, but he caught the underlying meaning. She'd seen the Angels in their usual spot during morning training.

"Just us," he replied, grabbing the cup from her.

"Your... friends are otherwise occupied?"

His chuckle was low and knowing. "They're... back at home." The way he said it made it clear 'home' was a loose concept.

Shanice pushed away thoughts about how weird it must be to just be cool with being one of many in a rotation. Not her business. Not her place to judge anybody's sex life, especially not when she had actual business to discuss.

"So," she sat behind her desk, crossing those Louboutin-clad legs deliberately. "Tell me about this sneaker competition for local kids."

Marcus set down his coffee and pulled out an iPad. But instead of launching into some formal presentation, he leaned forward with that infectious enthusiasm she was starting to realize wasn't just for show.

"Look, these kids in the local neighborhoods, they've got crazy talent. Not just for football - for design, for art. But nobody's giving them a platform." His French accent got thicker when he was excited, she noticed. "I want to do something that combines both. Get them designing custom football boots, have them pitch their ideas like it's Shark Tank or something."

"And the winners?"

"We produce their design. Limited edition. Split the profits with them and their schools." He grinned. "Plus they get to see a professional wear their creation in a match."

She had to admit, it was good. Combine Inter's community outreach with actual entrepreneurship opportunities, get some good PR, maybe even discover the next big thing in design...

"My daughter Heaven would lose her mind over this," she said without thinking.

His eyes lit up. "The sneakerhead? Dream mentioned her yesterday."

Shanice blinked. "When did you talk to Dream?"

"Instagram. She slid in my DMs like 'my mom's gonna be your boss now so we're basically family.'" He laughed at Shanice's mortified expression. "Don't worry, I kept it professional. Told her to focus on school and that her mom seems cool."

"Seems?"

"Well," he stood, and somehow the office felt smaller with him up. "That was before I saw you in this dress. Now I'm thinking 'cool' might be an understatement."

He was at the door before she could process that. "Think about the proposal? The kids would really appreciate it."

Shanice managed a nod, proud that her voice stayed steady. "I'll review the numbers."

"Looking forward to your decision." That smile again, the one that probably got him everything he wanted. "Boss."

The door clicked shut behind him. Shanice let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

So much for keeping it professional.

Saturday came too fast. Shanice had successfully avoided matches for months, but Dream and Heaven had formed an unholy alliance. Their combined powers of teenage begging and nine-year-old puppy eyes were apparently her kryptonite.

"You're an owner, Mom," Dream had argued. "You have to at least pretend to care about the actual games."

So here she was, in the owner's box, wearing weekend casual. Heaven was pressed against the glass, documenting every player's footwear choices in her little notebook. Dream was... well.

"OH MY GOD HE WAVED AT ME!"

Marcus had paused his warm-up routine to wave at Dream, who was now literally squealing and clutching Shanice's arm. Her daughter - usually so cool, so above it all - reduced to a giggling teenager. Which, fair enough, she was.

Shanice's eyes scanned the stands automatically. No Angels in sight. Interesting, since the gossip blogs always said they never missed a match, always in their usual section, always dressed like they were at fashion week instead of a football game-

Nope. She wasn't going to go there. That was the least of her worries. Besides, she wasn't about to become some cougar chasing after a 27-year-old footballer. What could he possibly do for her? He probably couldn't even satisfy a woman properly, especially not a woman like her who knew what she wanted and-

Marcus dropped into a stretch on the field below, and Shanice's brain short-circuited. Those thighs. That ass. The way his kit stretched across-

Well. Maybe he could do a little somethin' somethin'.

"Mom!" Heaven's voice snapped her out of it. "Are those the new Nike Zoom Mercurial Superfly 9 Elites he's wearing?"

"I have no idea what any of those words mean, baby."

But she knew exactly what those thighs meant, and it was trouble. Pure trouble.

The match kicked off, and Shanice tried to look interested in whatever was happening on the field. Heaven was still cataloging shoes, but now she was comparing them to some spreadsheet on her tablet. Dream was providing commentary that might as well have been in Chinese for all Shanice understood.

"Did you see that run? The way he just- Mom, are you even watching?"

She was watching something alright. Just maybe not the same thing Dream was excited about. Marcus moved like water on the field, all power and grace. The way his muscles flexed when he sprinted, the focus in his expression when he had the ball...

"Signora Ricci." A smooth voice interrupted her definitely-not-thirsting. One of the other board members - some old money type whose name she should probably remember. "So nice to finally see you at a match."

"Couldn't disappoint my girls," she smiled diplomatically. These men still weren't used to her being here, being part owner. Still called her Ricci even though she'd gone back to her maiden name.

"You've met our new striker, yes? Quite the acquisition."

Oh, she'd met him alright. Met those chocolate eyes and that devastating smile and that ass that should be illegal in those shorts-

"We had a meeting about his community outreach proposals," she said smoothly. "Very impressive."

"His proposals or his-" Dream's comment was cut off by Shanice's warning look.

The crowd suddenly roared. Shanice turned just in time to see Marcus breaking free, the ball at his feet. The defender didn't stand a chance. One move, two, and then-

GOAL.

The stadium erupted. Dream was screaming. Heaven had abandoned her shoe documentation to jump up and down. And Marcus... Marcus was running toward their end of the field, sliding on his knees in celebration.

He looked up at the owner's box. Straight at her.

And winked.

"Did you see that?" Dream squealed. "He winked at us!"

Sure, baby. At "us."

Shanice took a long sip of her champagne. She was going to need something stronger than this to survive the rest of this match.

Shanice was on her second glass of champagne when Marcus scored again. This time his celebration was all swagger - that signature dance that had Dream and her friends making TikToks for weeks. The stadium was going crazy, and even Heaven had abandoned her sneaker documentation to cheer.

"He's so good," Dream sighed dreamily. "Like, is there anything he can't do?"

Keep his shirt on, apparently. The heat had several players stripping down to their undershirts, and Marcus's clung to him like it was painted on. Those training sessions were clearly paying off because what the actual f-

"Mamma mia, he's really showing off today."

Shanice didn't need to turn around to know that voice. "Don't you have your own box, Alex?"

"Can't a father watch with his daughters?" Alessandro dropped into the seat next to her, looking irritatingly handsome in his weekend casual Brunello Cucinelli. "Though I see you're watching... something else."

"The match," she said firmly. "I'm watching the match."

"Of course." His knowing smile made her want to dump her champagne on his designer sweater. "That's why you haven't blinked since Thuram took his shirt off."

Before she could respond, the final whistle blew. Inter 3, Juventus 1.

"Can we go down?" Dream was already gathering her things. "Please? Dad always takes us to meet the players after home games."

"I don't think-" Shanice started.

"Excellent idea," Alex cut in smoothly. "The owner should congratulate the team on their victory. Especially the man of the match."

Heaven's eyes lit up. "We can see the boots up close!"

Shanice was outnumbered. Again. "Fine. But ten minutes max."

The tunnel to the locker room was crowded with families and staff, the air thick with victory excitement and expensive perfume. Dream was practically vibrating with anticipation. Heaven had her notebook ready.

And then Marcus emerged, still glowing from the win, that undershirt still clinging to every muscle like it was doing the Lord's work. His eyes found their group immediately.

"The Carter-Ricci family!" His smile could power half of Milan. "Did you enjoy the show?"

"You were amazing!" Dream gushed. "Those goals were insane!"

"Can I see your boots?" Heaven was already crouching down with her notebook.

Alessandro's hand found the small of Shanice's back - a move that used to be possessive but now just felt like him marking his territory. "Incredible performance today. You must have been... inspired."

Marcus's eyes flicked to Alex's hand, then to Shanice's face. Something flashed in them - too quick to read. "Very inspired," he said, but he was looking straight at her. "Sometimes you just want to impress the right people, you know?"

Heaven was rattling off questions about his cleats. Dream was trying to casually get a selfie. Alex was doing that alpha male thing Italian men loved.

And Shanice?

Shanice was thinking about exactly what else those thighs could do.

"Yo! Big bro!"

A younger version of Marcus strode up, already changed into Juventus casual wear. The family resemblance was strong - same height, same build, same dangerous smile but instead of a cropped fade, he wore his hair in dreads.

"Little bro!" Marcus pulled him into one of those complicated handshakes that looked rehearsed. "Tough luck today."

"Whatever, you were showing off." Khephren's eyes landed on Shanice. "Who's this?"

"My new boss," Marcus said, and something in his tone made Shanice's skin tingle. "Shanice Carter, meet my brother Khephren."

"Damn, if I knew Inter's management looked like this, I might've signed with them instead." Khephren's grin earned him a solid smack to the chest from Marcus.

"My apologies," Marcus said to Shanice, but his eyes were laughing. "My little brother hasn't learned manners yet."

Alex cleared his throat loudly. "Girls, come on. Time to go."

Dream and Heaven reluctantly said their goodbyes, leaving Shanice standing there like an idiot, trying not to stare at Marcus's abs through that sweat-soaked shirt that was doing entirely too much.

"I should go too," she said, snapping out of it. This wasn't right. She needed to put up a wall between them right now. She was his boss, for fuck's sake.

She pivoted on her heel, but his hand caught her wrist. Warm. Strong. Trouble.

"The proposal - did you read it?"

"Yes."

"Great. Can we talk about it more? Go over the plan of action?"

"Sure, schedule with Maria for an appointment."

His face changed, eyebrows furrowing. "I don't want too many ears in this situation." He tilted his head toward where the board members and her ex were speaking in low voices. "Maybe dinner?"

"That's not–"

"My treat."

"Marcus. That would be inappropriate."

"Then a business lunch," he countered, "still my treat."

Shanice pulled her wrist from his grasp, crossing her arms over her chest. She didn't miss how his eyes followed the movement, lingering just a beat too long.

"Do you think I'm dumb or something?"

"Far from that, Shanice." He straightened up, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. The move was sexy as hell but she kept her face neutral. "You're one of the smartest women I know."

"You don't know me."

"Yet," he added, and they stared at each other for what felt like forever.

"Whatever you think you're playing at, I'm not one of your little friends... or Angels for that matter. Like I said, schedule an appointment with Maria." She turned to leave again.

"So make a call?" His voice was low, just for her ears. Thank goodness no one else heard that.

She paused, glancing back. That smug look on his handsome ass face should've been illegal.

"I'll call you then. To set up the lunch," he said with absolute confidence.

Shanice just scoffed and continued down the tunnel, feeling his eyes on her the whole way.

That man was going to be the death of her career. Or just the death of her, period.

"Mom! Wait up!" Dream's voice echoed down the tunnel. "Why'd you leave so fast?"

Because your favorite player was looking at me like I was dessert, baby girl.

"Time to go home," Shanice said instead, fishing her car keys from her Bottega purse. "Where's your sister?"

"Still with Dad. He's taking us for gelato." Dream studied her face. "You should come."

"Pass." The last thing she needed was to sit across from Alex while he made smug comments about her "meeting" with Marcus.

"Is it because of Marcus?" Dream's voice dropped to a whisper. "Because I saw how he was looking at you. And how you were looking at his-"

"Dream. Don't."

"I'm just saying, Mom. The Angels are pretty and all, but you're like... you're you. And he definitely noticed."

Shanice stopped walking. "Listen to me carefully. There is nothing between me and Marcus Thuram except a business relationship. He's your age, for God's sake."

"He's twenty-seven, Mom. That's not my age." Dream rolled her eyes. "And anyway, age is just a-"

"If you finish that sentence, you're grounded."

Dream threw up her hands. "Fine! But for the record? I wouldn't mind. It'd be kind of cool actually. Like, my mom and my favorite player? That's some Wattpad level plot twist."

"Go get your gelato," Shanice laughed, pulling her daughter in for a hug. "Love you."

"Love you too. Even if you're in denial."

Shanice watched Dream skip back to where Alex and Heaven were waiting, then headed for her car. Her phone buzzed before she even reached it.

Unknown number: Lunch tomorrow? For the proposal.

Her heart definitely didn't skip. Nope. Not at all.

Another buzz: This is Marcus, by the way. Your daughter gave me your number.

She was going to kill Dream.

Third buzz: For business purposes only, of course. 😏

That damn smirking emoji. She could see his face when he typed it, all cocky confidence and knowing looks.

Shanice: Schedule it with Maria.

Marcus: Come on, boss. Let me take you to lunch. Professional lunch. Very proper. Very appropriate.

Those three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

Marcus: Unless you're scared...

Oh, this little boy thought he could play with her?

Shanice: Fine. One lunch. Professional. And you're not getting my coffee ever again.

Marcus: We'll see 😈

She dropped her phone in her bag like it was burning her fingers. What the hell was she doing? This was beyond stupid. Beyond reckless.

But as she slid into her Porsche, all she could think about was that damn smirk and those abs and the way he'd said "yet."

She was so screwed.

........................tbd

#quainwritings #quain’s masterlist #footballer x oc #footballer x reader #marcus thuram #marcus thuram x oc #marcus thuram x black oc #marcus thuram x reader #marcus thuram fanfiction #marcus thuram fic

40 notes · View notes

cozmowrites · 3 days ago

Text

New Year's (2024)

"Hey- grab me a slice of that cake!" Ashido shouted at you as you told them you were off to grab a drink of alcohol or two from the table. Todoroki told everyone about a New Year's party to have a fun reunion between the two hero classes. Pro-heroes, sidekicks, or whatever they wanted to be, everyone was alive with energy, reaching its peak. Music boomed, laughter echoed, and the aroma of fancy hors d'oeuvres filled the air, something Todoroki bought into. Everyone had gathered to celebrate the end of the year, reconnecting after years of carving their individual paths.

You picked up two glasses of saké in one hand, casually chatting with Ashido as she takes the cake from your hands so you could carry both glasses on each hand. Despite the festive atmosphere, you couldn't help but notice one glaring absence. Kirishima had come up behind Ashido and scared her.

"Bakugou's missing," you muttered.

"Yeah," Kirishima laughed. "He's doing his lone wolf thing again, probably glaring at the stars or something."

Ashido rolled her eyes. "Classic Bakugou. Someone should drag him back here."

Without a second thought, you volunteered. "I'll go. I could use some fresh air anyway. Plus, I wanted to deliver this extra glass to him." You held it up and the both of them wished you good luck in finding him.

Leaving the chatter and music behind, you wandered through the hallways of the venue, not really knowing where anything is, until you found the staircase leading to the roof. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped outside. It was cold as fuck and you didn't think to bring your jacket or coat. There he was, leaning against the railing, his back turned to the door. His blond hair glinted in the faint glow of the city lights, and the skyline stretched endlessly before him.

"Thought I'd find you here," you said, approaching cautiously. He didn't turn, but his posture tensed slightly.

"What the hell do you want?" His voice was gruff. You were definitely bothering him, but that's what you do. Bother people and pry into their business.

You held up the glass of saké, even though he didn't look at you right away. "Figured you might need a drink."

He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing before he sighed. "Fine." Taking the glass, he leaned back against the railing and stared out at the city.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn't awkward; it was peaceful, broken only by the distant sound of music and laughter drifting up from below. You were cold and he took note of that, how the hairs stood up on your arm and the way the goosebumps formed almost immediately after. He hated that you tried to hide it and he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders.

"Don't get sick." He grumbled quietly and you slipped your arms through the sleeves, immediately feeling warmer.

"Why are you out here?" You finally asked.

"Too noisy in there," he muttered, taking a sip of the saké. "Besides, it's not like anyone would miss me."

"That's not true," you replied softly, stepping closer. "Kirishima and Ashido were talking about you just now. They care about you, Bakugou. We all do."

"Tch." He looked away, but the faintest trace of a blush colored his cheeks.

You stood beside him, gazing out at the skyline. The countdown to midnight was getting closer, and the city seemed to buzz with anticipation. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how his usually harsh features softened under the moonlight.

"You're different, you know," you said suddenly.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" He shot you a look as he took a drink of his saké.

"I mean you've mellowed out. A little. You're still grumpy, but you're also.. calmer. More thoughtful."

He scoffed, but you caught the flicker of embarrassment in his eyes. "Don't start getting weird on me."

"I'm just saying," you teased, nudging his arm gently.

A distant cheer erupted from below, signaling the final minute of the year. You both turned instinctively toward the noise, though neither of you made a move to join the others.

"Thirty seconds!" You heard someone shout from below, the sound faint but clear.

You turned back to Bakugou, a small smile playing on your lips. "Any resolutions for the new year?"

"No. Resolutions are stupid." He grumbled, though there was no real venom in his words.

"Fair enough," you laughed.

"Ten!"

The countdown was in full swing now, the voices growing louder. You felt a strange tension settle in the air, and when you looked at Bakugou again, his gaze was fixed on you, intense and unreadable.

"Five!"

"What?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do I have something on my face?"

"Four!"

He didn't answer. Instead, he set his glass down on the railing and stepped closer, his crimson eyes locked on yours.

"Three!"

Your heart pounded in your chest. Was he about to—? No, this was Bakugou. He'd never—

"Two!"

"Hey-" You started.

His hand brushed against yours, hesitant yet deliberate.

"One!"

Before you could fully process what was happening, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both firm and unexpectedly gentle. Your eyes widened in shock, but you didn't pull away. The kiss was brief, yet it sent your mind spinning, leaving you breathless when he finally pulled back.

"Happy New Year," he muttered, his cheeks a deep shade of red.

You stared at him, still stunned. As the cheers and party seems to get louder below, the rooftop seemed quiet and the city felt distant. It was just you and Bakugou now. "Did- did you just kiss me?"

"Yeah, I did," he said gruffly, avoiding your gaze. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," you said quickly, your heart racing. "Just.. I thought we were only friends. You.. made that pretty clear on graduation day."

He finally met your eyes, his expression softening. "Maybe I'm done pretending that's all we are."

For a moment, you were too stunned to speak. Then a slow smile spread across your face. There was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

+++

masterlist ⟢

more bakugou ⟢

requests ツ

#writer #bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugou #dynamight #bakugou x you #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #oneshot #new year

48 notes · View notes

izzydaninja · 2 days ago

Text

Something I noticed while (definitely not) editing something Sonic Prime related:

In episode 1 of season 2, Sonic and Shadow finally confront each other about their world's destruction due to the prism.

When Shadow leads Sonic back to the cave where it all started, they find the prism as a ghost, unfinished with a single fragment remaining. (A sign of their unity and division.)

Sonic states he'd do anything to be back, and Shadow finishes the statement: 'home.' They both wish to go back home, the same goal in mind. So, when Shadow tells Sonic there is still a chance, and Sonic follows him up to the prism, they're both standing in front of the prism shard on the same side: implying their shared goal.

Then, as Shadow starts to explain things, something changes...

He walks around the prism blueprint - making the prism a divider now.

From this point on, they may share the same goals, but it's evident that they do not share the same ideals on how to reach it, leaving them arguing once more.

No matter the shot...

No matter the angle...

The prism stands as their divider: two sides of the prism so-to-speak.

Even in a stand-alone shot with Shadow:

They make sure to keep the shard in view for this shot; unlike any other stand-alone shot of him or Sonic, where the shard is not even visible.

Not only is it a reminder that it's a divider, as it still sits in the way, but it's now present in a shot where Shadow outright declares: "Sonic! You literally broke our world. Why would I trust you to do anything!?" The prism shard is now a symbol of the home they lost (as it sits in a ghostly replica of their Green Hill).

After this, Sonic is cut off from anything he went to say as Shadow spindashes him across the cave, stating that he's taking charge on this one.

But the disagreement and fight isn't surprising (knowing the two), because they hinted at it from the beginning. Yes, they were fighting before Sonic fully knew what was going on, but at this point, they both know what's in play and they both want the same thing, but there's this hidden truth that they'll do different things to get what they want. Sonic even says himself, once Shadow says he's getting the shards: "No way, Shadow! I know what you're capable of and that's not gonna happen!" Then he's further defending his other friends in the different shatterspaces.

Sonic wants to go home, to fix what he broke, but where he'll team-up and help others as he goes, Shadow will push through and take out anyone who tries to stop him from fixing their home. The prism shard, standing as the symbol of their home, also shows the clear division between the two, even before they started disagreeing; giving us the heads up that the fight was coming.

(Yes, I know these screenshots are quality garbage, but I didn't really have a better option available at the time, not unless I went further digging for the Netflix footage, but I didn't feel like it. Lol)

I just found this very interesting as I went through the cave scenes. Looking from shot-to-shot to notice the shard is only ever shown when directly between the two once this whole conversation starts.

Hope you all liked this little analysis-thing, because I don't know if I'll do any more in the future. XD I'm not much of an analyzer. I just like to talk about details and things I've noticed with my siblings or friends, so this was a step further than usual. I just figured: "I have the screenshots already, why not?" XD

Anyway, thanks for reading my rambles!

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic #Shadow the Hedgehog #Shadow #Sonic Prime #Sonic Prime Analysis #Sonic Prime Episode Analysis #Episode Analysis #Analysis #Scene Analysis #Animation Analysis #Episode: s02e01 Avoid the Void (Sonic Prime)#Digging Deep #I love details like this :>

37 notes · View notes

siri-ike · 2 days ago

Text

@megasweetbones I'm making this the prequel to the other fic

Warning ⚠️ suicidal thoughts from a child, ploting to murder a child, multiple deaths, semi successful suicide, S.A., victim blaming negative self-talk

(Also, let me know, do you want the warning, or is it too much of a spoiler?)

Pronunciation guide for the name Álaug

Ál sounds like owl, Au sounds like eui, soft G

The thorns dug into her palm, causing her to bleed, but she refused to loosen her grip. This is it. Álaug thought as gravity brought her closer and closer to her inevitable end. Well, actually, she thought, "Í víti finn ég loksins frið" but, she's about to die, she's allowed to be a litte edge lord right now. The closer she got the brighter she could see the glow of the Lazarus water from behind her. She kurled in on herself around the black rose as the pit swallowed her whole.

One week earlier

This is it. This is the day Athanasia will escape. She's planned it for months, and it's finally time.

"Your target is Gord Keener, a Canadian politician. He's sponsoring a girl's hockey league. You will each join one of the teams to get close and kill him once you get the opportunity."

Athanasia stood perfectly still, as Grandfather assigned her her first leading role for a mission since being declared an unsuccessful attempt. It would just be her and Danielle, no, Daniel. He had told her just a few nights ago. No way would Grandfather accept him like that, especially on top of all his other issues, so she had to bring him. Which is fine. She can hunt food for herself. What's one more? Plus, she's ha- he's had some combat training, too. That's gonna take some getting used to.

The problem started when Grandfather made her bring Álaug. Come on, she had only been there for 2 months. She's not ready for a task. She barely speaks their language. But you know what? Athanasia is nothing if not resilient. She will overcome this obstacle. And not just because Daniel begged her not to kill her and push her body of a steep cliff.

Tryouts were easy, Daniel was great in cold environments, and Álaug was surprisingly a fantastic skater. They successfully infiltrated the 7, 8, and 9 year old teams.

Even with the added obstacle, this all felt too perfect. If Athanasia didn't know any better, she'd think Grandfather was purposely putting all his problems in one boat to get rid of them. The mission itself is so inconsequential. What could one polite snowman do to them?

"What about you, Jasmine?... Jasmine?"

Oh, right. Jasmine was the name she had given.

"What?"

"Which comic do you want? Alicia brought a bunch." One of the Olivias stated.

"I have Phantom Stranger, Tales from Atlantis, Boom-boom Kaboom, Return of the Gray Ghost, and The Time Keeper. Everything else is already taken."

These girls don't even know her. And from how Alicia had spoken about her books, they were clearly important.

Atha- Jasmine ended up reading 7 issues of the Time Keeper. A mysterious cloaked figure who punishes time travelers for messing with the timestream. What utter nonsense. The real Time-Wraiths would never be as welcoming and well spoken as this Time Keeper. And yet she can't stop reading. That is, until she gets to the 7th issue. In it, there's a side plot where three young girls are planning to assassinate a member of the time council. The oldest and youngest were sisters. The youngest looked exactly like Daniel but had short hair, and the third character was the most concerning. In the story, the girls told the Green Hornet that they were being blackmailed into doing the job, but in the end, it turned out the third girl had been sent as a spy.

Athanasia can in no way be considered gullible or naive. Even by assassin standards, she can sniff out a lie a mile away. But this, this is different. But the book she chose happened to be the one that warns of a traitor? That has to be an omen, or some kind of spirit trying to warn her.

At this point, Daniel is used to pretending to be one of the girls. But it felt different this time. One of his teammates had asked if she could call him Dani for short, and it felt so right. Righter than "Daniel" had felt. "Danny" was absolutely perfect.

There wasn't really any information gathering to do, so he was free to play sleepover games with the rest of his group. For once, he was included with the others. The adults didn't try to separate him or tell him he's too weak or that he was a waste of resources. He was just part of the group. Is this what life will be like outside the league? He couldn't wait to tell Athanasia all about it.

Two months ago Álaug was happily vacationing with her parents and two older brothers. And now she's expected to kill some guy? She had exepted that her parents were dead. She had had to. And even if Bölverkur and Böðólfur had survived in the first place, they definitely couldn't have survived two months alone in the Himalayan mountains. They can't even be left home alone for a week. Couldn't.

"Oley? Oley? Can you hear me?" One of the hockey girls was butchering her name.

"It's Á-laug," There wasn't any feeling in her voice. She used to hate it when people mispronounced her name. "It means curse or charmed lake."

That seemed to catch the girls off guard, and they left her alone for a while after that.

Until one of the adults walked over to her. Not the coach. This is one of the girls' moms.

"Hi, sweetheart." She placed a hand on Álaugs knee only to get slapped away. "Why are you mad at the other girls?"

Leading question, assigning her an emotion rather than asking her how she feels. The assassins taught her all about it. There's no point talking to her because she's already decided what's happening. Álaug stood up in silence and headed towards the door. The woman grabbed her hand. As she expected, there was no attempt to check herself. She would only assign blame. Álaug looked back at her. There was nothing in her eyes, no aggression or sadness, just hollowness. "What is your plan?" She leers. "Hoping that I'll scream and yell, so you can look like the big stong authority figure? Want me to blindly obey your orders so you can feel powerful? What me to cry, so you can comfort the new girl? You didn't even ask what happened. You just decided that I was in the wrong. Because someone told you a biased version of half a story." Álaug was fully aware how uncomfortable she made people, no one likes hearing such complicated accusations from a 9 year old, especially one who is clearly speaking a second language. And the calmness makes her all the more unsettling. But right now, she just couldn't pretend. The parent chaperone, or whatever she was, stood there in stunned silence long enough for Álaug to make her way out of the common area and into one of their bedrooms, where she locked herself in. From there, it was just a matter of climbing out the window. Hopefully, she'd get lucky and never see any of these people again, not the hockey team, the assassins, her cooperatives, anyone. Maybe she'd get lucky and disappear forever. Their room was on the 14th floor. She could disappear right now, and no one could stop her.

🎶🎵🎶

If only whoever was in the room to the left above them could stop singing for five minutes so she could think.

Climbing wasn't just something the league thought her. She was already good. She was on a lot of teams and sports clubs before Nanba Parbat. Not that any of that mattered now. Her friends probably think she died with her family. If only. There was a half-naked man singing and dancing alone in the room. He was way off tune. She climbed properly onto the balcony. Should she pick the lock or knock? Wait, no, why would she need to get in? She didn't care about this guy. The only thing he has going for him is that he hasn't pissed her off yet. She opted for knocking, which startled him in a rather animated manner. He opened the glass door to let her inside.

"Did Henry lock you out here?"

"Ég slapp frá forráðamönnum mínum." Easier to pretend not to know English.

"I don't understand." He paused as though thinking. "WOULD. YOU. LIKE. SOME. TEA?" Idiot.

She walked past him towards the door. But she stops. Putting aside the stupidity of trying to yell over the language barrier, why offer tea? Does he expect her to stay? She hurries, but the door is locked. Hotel doors aren't supposed to lock people in. There must be someth-

"Come now, he was probably just having a bit of fun."

She should have known. How could she be so stupid? Any trustworthy person would have been shocked to see an 8 year old girl in pajamas on their balcony. She didn't need to look back to know he was coming closer. For the first time in two months, she actually felt something. Why'd it have to be fear? She bolted for the nearest open door, which happened to lead to bedroom with a large fancy looking bed. She closed the door behind her, but there was nothing to block it. All she could do was hide. Whether she chose under the bed or in the closet, she'd be at a disadvantage either way. She darted under the bed. Down side: reduced speed, vulnerable position. Upside: he's too big to fit, and he can't reach her if she stays in the center.

"Putting up a fight, huh? I like that. Some of the other girls he hires make it too easy."

Tell him you weren't hired for anything and give away your location? Or assume the worst of a guy who apparently regularly hires girls young enough that she could be confused for one. Easy choice. She trained her eyes on his shoes as closed the door behind him.. Then his pants dropped to his ankles. Álaug reaches a hand into her pajama bottoms, for the knife straped to her thigh. Thank you, League of Assassins... ACTUALLY NO, they're the reason she's here. The league can all go lick this guy's sweaty butthole!

"Do you have braces?" He slowly made his way towards the bed. "The last one had braces. They leave scratches." It sounded like he wanted the answer to be yes.

The closet made a creaking noise, and he turned to it. He opened the closet door and grunted in disappointment. Álaug heard the scratching of hangers sliding around on a metal pole and clothes being shifted around. Interrupted suddenly by a thump, then a second, smaller pair of bare feet land on the floor behind him as he trips forward into the closet. Álaug uses the opportunity to run out from under the bed and slice his exposed ankles. He screamed and swore at the top of his lungs but only for a moment before Álaugs knife was taken from her and stabbed straight into the man's neck. The other girl. She stood there holding the knife in place and covered in blood. She was obscured in the darkness. The man jolted an arm, and Álaug took the chance to leap over to the other girl, grab the knife, and repeatedly stab him in the throat again. She felt a pain in her cheeks. She brought a hand to her face only to find that she couldn't stop smiling. Like this was her life's greatest accomplishment. The other girl took her hand and they left the room together.

In the light of the living area, she could properly make out the girls' features. She had medium brown skin and darker brown currly hair with a few broken butterflies clips in it. Her greenish brown eyes were full of tears and snot poured from her upturned nose. She examined Álaug too. Her eyes darted from her straight, dirty blonde hair to her narrow chin and down to her slightly oversized PJs held together with a headband around her waist.

"I'm Nadia. You?"

"Álaug, it's Owl like the animal Au like in bird and ends with a soft G."

"Oh, ok, um, Nadia is like, ah.-"

"It's fine. I can remember Nadia." Álaug pointed at Nadias loose jersey. "You on one of the teams?"

"Nah, Mama Crieo had me wear this to get into the hotel."

Álaug looked down at the logo on her own top. "Oh, you're an assassin, too?"

"Uhm, no." She looked at Álaug with a bit more scrutiny this time. "Who were you here to assassinate?"

"Gord Keener, a politician, I don't know what he did, can't be as bad as that guy." She gestured back to the unconscious man bleeding out behind them.

Nadia narrowed her eyes. She pointed to a suitcase on the floor. Álaug walked over to it, and Nadia followed, still refusing to let go of her hand. Álaug checked the bag tag from his flight. "Keener"

"Oh, well, that worked out nicely then."

"Nicely? Are you - " She sighed." Never mind, we should get out of here." She holds out her blood-stained jersey. "He probably didn't have spares in our sizes."

Nadia hated the plan. Staying in the suite with a dead body while Álaug climed down to get extra clothes was the absolute last thing she wanted to do, right after having to use their assailants grown man shoes to step in more creep blood to obscure their distinctly child sized bloody footprints. She finished shortly before Álaug got back, wearing two pairs of shorts and to jerseys, and two pairs of sneakers slung over her shoulders. They left the clothes near the body and snuck out using a keycard Nadia had found during her cover-up.

"Olie!"

They were almost to the front door when that same parent chaperone spotted them.

"Olie! Get back here!" She ran towards them. And they sprinted as fast as they could, but it was no use. "Olie, we were worried sick. How did you even get out?" She held tight onto Álaugs wrist.

"I thought your name was Álaug." Nadia remarked.

"So, did, I." Álaug snarked.

"This isn't funny. You're coming with me." She started walking back, dragging a resistant Álaug behind her.

Nadia watched on horrified, a million thoughts rushed in and out of her head, and she did something she never thought she would.

She bit the woman's hand.

It was shocking enough that they both could escape out the front door without being caught.

They stopped in an alley almost three blocks away to catch their breath.

"We need to find a thrift store, catwalk around wearing a recognizable team logo." Álaug suggested.

"Ok," Nadia pulled a battered looking leather wallet from he pants pocket. "20, 40, 60, 80, 90, 100, 5, 10, 15, 20, 25, 26, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12. We have one hundred and thirty-two dollars. Hope they have coats in our size, or at least thick hoodies." She picked out the ID and credit cards. "Mama Crieo says to never take the cards because they can be tracked." She slips them into a nearby drain cover.

"I can't believe I didn't think to take his money." Álaug looks fondly at Nadia. "That must be why people commit crimes with partners."

The elderly woman who owned the diner they'd hidden behind very helpfully gave them directions to the nearest second-hand store not owned by Debra, to whom she apparently refused to send business. The store she sent them to was perfect. The kids' section was huge, and they were even able to find somewhat matching overalls. Score. Álaugs were mossy green with leaves mushrooms and caterpillar embroidery, paired with a pale yellow bell-sleeved blouse, winter stockings, and black Mary Jane shoes. Nadias were a light pink to orange gradient with butterflies and cherry blossom branches, paired with a white long sleeved t-shirt, pale pink winter stockings, and black boots. The hoodie selection was less interesting but they found a purple one with a dinosaur on it and a black one with some stars on the back.

At the counter Álaug quickly ran off and brought back one more item. A pack of butterfly hair clips that she presented to her friend with a smile. They were different from the ones Nadia had, or, the two that were still intact. Her old ones were semi transparent and had round wings. These new ones were glittery and had more square-ish wings. But they were perfect anyway. The price came out to 73CAD and 1 cent. The cashier was nice enough to ignore the one cent so they wouldn't have to carry a bunch of change with them.

Nadia counts their money again after they leave, 59CAD, more than enough for two lunch packs and train tickets. The plan was to go back to Mama Crieo since Henry probably wasn't going to give her a ride back now.

Train tickets for under 12 are 10CAD each, prepackaged sandwiches are 4CAD each, and since somehow water costs money in this country, two water bottles were almost 3CAD, leaving them with only 28.32CAD left.

"Back home water is free." Álaug sat cross-legged in her seat.

"Where is that?" Nadia opened her bottle with a little fizz, she picked the strawberry flavored sparkling water. She wanted a soda, but Álaug told her the salt in it would only make her thirsty again.

"Ísland." She reminisced. That's where her home is, where her grandparents are, her classmates, and where her, her parents, and brothers should all be. "We were on vacation, my mom and dad, Bölverkur and Böðólfur, my brothers." Álaug noticed the confusion on Nadias face. "They were twins, böl means to do something bad, and verk means work or action. Böð means, like, a message about danger or inviting evil, and ólfur comes from úlfur meaning wolf. So Bad do-er and Evil message wolf."

Nadia chucked a bit. And so did Álaug, for a short moment, but it quickly turned to tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to laugh, they're perfectly good names." Nadia tried.

Álaug wiped her eyes. "No, it's fine. Æi, They're probably dead, is all. But it's OK, it doesn't hurt as much as before." She sniffled.

Nadia looked down thinking of a way to change the subject. "What does your name mean?"

Inhaling, she tried to steady herself. "Álaug is a combination of álög meaning curse or enchantment, and laug meaning pool. So, a cursed lake. All Icelandic names have some kind of meaning. My dad once got me a book with all the parts of names explained. Like, æ, laug is a pretty common end for a girl name, then there's also Ey meaning island, Rún meaning seacret or friend, Dýs meaning fairy or goddes or some kind of magical woman. For boys' names, there's Ólfur and Úlfur, both mean wolf, Þór God of thunder and lightning, protector of the courts, and those who work the land, Vin meaning friend. There's a whole bunch of them. A lot of starts to, you could pick any of the common starts of a name and a common ending of a name and put them together.-"

That wasn't the end of Álaugs speech,she actually talked about Icelandic naming conversations for almost an hour, and Nadia did not try to stop her. She didn't even remind her to eat her sandwich.

There's way too much of this, so I'll reblog with the second half.

The other fic is Jasmine Al-Ghul

Translations

"Í víti finn ég loksins frið"-> "in the void, I will finally find peace."

"Ég slapp frá forráðamönnum mínum." -> "I escaped from my guardians."

(Ignore my rant in the tags)

If the Lazarus Pits are ectoplasm, what happens if someone throws blood blossoms in one?

#gord keener is the most canadian name google could give me. gord is apparently a common name. and keener is slang meaning suck up.#i made everything about him as stariotypicaly canadian as i could #it was supposed to be just the laziest way to make an unimportant character but now i kinda like him #gord might show up in some of my other fics. hes part of the roster now. just an easter egg that no one will know to look for #oc #dc oc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #can you tell that people mispronounce my name a lot? i hate it so much. its litteraly two syllables and both of them exist in English.#i didnt name her efter myself btw my name is easier to pronounce than hers but for some reason people always #replace the G with a K and the “A” with and “E”. i always have to specify “it ends with ”A“ like the first letter in the alphabet”#sometimes i even have to tell them that no icelandic girls name ends with the sound “E” and neither do any boys names here.#and yet i keep having to repeat myself. over and over to the same person. because it just does not go through #danny phantom #dp x dc fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #that scene took me several days to write. i had to take so many breaks in between. during those breaks i worked on clone danny.#i had to use CLONE DANNY as a pallet cleanser. specifically the bedroom scene there. because thatones so cute and wholesome. whereas this #one makes me not want to have skin. just wanna peel it all off. only thing that could overpower the pain in my soul.#info dump #im pretty sure ive put a charecter going on a long rant in every single one of my fics.#your honor they are autistic

91 notes · View notes

moiramichaels · 3 days ago

Text

Untitled S.W.A.T and 911 fic

So I never post fanfiction, but a friend told me to be brave so here goes - This takes place right after season one starts for 911, but only mentions Tommy. I'm not sure where it takes place for S.W.A.T. I'm only in season 2 of that show.

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

Luca looked out the window. He was in a parked car with Rocker and they had been trailing a suspect that they hoped would lead to who they were really after. He quickly looked towards Rocker, who was just sitting there staring out the window. He had been mostly quiet the whole day and it was starting to freak him out. He didn't usually work with Rocker, but he knew he wasn't the strong silent type. He had noticed that since Rocker got back from his week off last week, he'd been quiet. Luca figured that something had happened, but he wasn't close enough to really ask Rocker about it. He had noticed Mumford giving him concerned looks a few times. Luca was sure that he knew what was up and that had been enough.

But spending the last couple of hours together and Rocker just sitting and only contributing work related conversation was getting on his nerves. He had promised himself, he would not ask, but he could no longer keep that promise.

He turned fully to Rocker and said "Hey man, you've been quiet today."

"Yeah." he replied.

"Is all okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine." Rocker replied. Luca held back a sigh and quickly looked out the window.

He turned back to Rocker and waited. Finally Rocker sighed and said "You know what, no it's not fine."

Luca kept quiet, giving Rocker his attention. He was now extremely curious what was going on. He replied "Well, whatever it is, I'm here man if you want to talk it out. But if not, that's cool." He didn't really mean that, it would not be cool. Luca just had to know what the hell had gotten into Rocker.

"I always knew I was adopted. My parents were great, but I had this hope to meet my birth parents." Rocker said quietly. "But when I was 13, my parents sat me down and they told me that I had been abandoned as a baby. That I would probably never know who my birth family was."

Rocker had been looking out the window as he said this, but now he looked at Luca. "As you can imagine, this was devastating to 13 year old me. I acted out for a while. But my parents really were great and they helped me through it. And I accepted that I would never know where I came from.

Luca looked at him again and said "that's rough." There has to more to it than just that though.

"Yeah, but 5 weeks ago, I ran into someone who looked exactly like me. That's how I found out I have a twin brother. I mean we did a DNA check to make sure that we didn't just look exactly alike, but yeah twins."

Luca stared at Rocker in shock and Rocker turned back to wait for their target to appear.

"Well what happened, was he also adopted?"

"Nope" Rocker said while emphasizing the p sound. "He didn't know about me and wasn't sure if he was also adopted. So we went to visit his dad and family. They live in Arizona. It turns out that his dad only wanted one kid, so that bastard drove me to L.A. and dropped me off and then went home. They kept my twin."

"Uhh.." Luca was completely speechless here.

"Yeah, but it turns out I was the lucky one. My sperm donor is an awful human being and I found out from one my new cousins, that he was the type of man that was a little too controlling with his wife and son. Apparently my mother wasn't given a choice on keeping both of us and she was too scared to speak up for herself. No one confirmed this, but I'm sure he was the type to hit his wife and kid."

Rocker looked at him again. "You should have heard the things he said to Tommy, the things he called him. Tommy's first reaction was to step back and he's as big as I am. But I was happy to see him step up again and stand up for himself. I let them both know that what he did with me was a crime and I was going to make sure he was charged with it.

"And you're brother is okay with that?" Luca asked.

"Yeah, he seemed thrilled."

Tommy and Luca both went back to watching the building. Luca wondered how long their target would be here. He was visiting his girlfriend, so it might be a while.

Rocker said a few minutes later. "I think Tommy's actually jealous of me. My parents are great. He does want to get to know me and I want to get to know him. I introduced him to my parents and they said that they'd like a chance to give him good parents. I think he doesn't trust it, but they've decided we are going to adopt him as well. And he can bring that one cousin of his that seemed cool. The rest can stay in Arizona."

"Wow, just wow." Luca finally said and then turned back to the front.

"Yeah, but my brother is great. He's a firefighter. In fact he's a firefighter pilot. Just moved from a regular fire station to one where he can fly helicopters. Pretty cool."

"That is cool, man." Wow, Luca thought again.

#fanfic #swat cbs #911 abc #dominique luca #donovan rocker #tommy kinard

22 notes · View notes

newcaptainofsquad9 · 23 hours ago

Text

Was This Vacation a Mistake? ~Crazy Rich Asians( Astrid x black! fem! reader)~Part 4

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Summary: Finally back home, you resume your life as a professor but find yourself still thinking about Astrid and the events of the vacation. Lucky for you, someone comes to spare you of any grief you still had.

Word Count: 2.4k

Tag List(I added folks were commented and enjoyed) : @madeleinecamilanightwood16, @ladydragonpurplefire,

Author's Note: Here's part 4 guys. Sorry this has taken so long. I'm going to try and end this fic this year within the next three chapters. Thank you for reading as always. And if you wanna be added or removed from tag List, let me know.

Classes finally started back, normalcy followed and that was all I could hope for. Everything that happened in Singapore is still there, how can I even try to forget it that fast? Rachel promised to speak about it whenever yet she had her own issues to deal with.

Apparently, she called it off with Nick after the debacle in his homeland; the entire situation has had me torn. I'm sure they'll talk it out, or take a long enough break to figure something out. Or maybe it was my fault, I shouldn't have even gone on the trip in the first place and Rachel would have been engaged right now. Nick's family would love her and not turning up their nose at me, her random Black friend.

I know, I shouldn't think like that. Rachel will nag me about it if she saw me here in my office frowning down at a student's paper. My red pink has marked it enough, perhaps a break is in order.

A soft knock rapped at my door. A student perhaps, Rachel would have texted or called if she needed something.

"Come in," I said, eyes still steady on the page.

A clack of heels and the clack of the door shut follows.

"What can I help you with?"

My pulse quickened at who's in my office now. From the heels I suspected an international student and their fancy abundance but here Astrid was dressed in a low cut white top, black blazer and high rise jeans. Her hair was pulled up and her shades sat on her head.

"I had to see you," she said, smiling softly. "How have you been, darling?"

I stood up, put away the paper I was grading and rushed toward her.

Astrid met me halfway, embracing me gently like I was made of glass, like she did when she first hugged me at her house a few weeks prior. It got firmer once she caressed my back, resting her chin down on my shoulder.

"Everything OK?" she whispered. "Nick's been worried."

"No, he shouldn't be," you groaned. "He should focus on himself, did he send you all the way here? W-What about Cassian?"

Astrid frowned. "Did I come at the wrong time? Cassian has the best nannies looking after him, and I wasn't going to be here long. Was my coming here not what you expected, wanted even?"

I caught the twinge of sadden edging in her voice.

"Y-Yeah, it's unexpected but it's not that I wouldn't want it," I tried explaining through burning cheeks. "You being here is great. I think it'll help."

Astrid stepped back, studying me and my office around us. Everywhere her eyes swept caught me with enough self consciousness to scold myself to clean a bit more around here, take some books back to my apartment sometime during another holiday.

"Your office is quaint, reminds me of you," Astrid said, stepping over to a stack of books I had on the cover of my desk that's stuffed with loose papers. "I bet you've read these dozens of times over, dissected them to bits for classes, yeah?"

I just nodded as our eyes met again.

"Yeah, mostly during undergrad and downtime between semesters now," I said. "I usually just read what the board signs off for my classes and short stories for my kids to tear into during discussions. Rachel and I had a little book club during our mfa time here ages ago."

Astrid chuckled. "Ages?"

"Seven years, give or take, ages to me considering where we are now."

"And where are you both right now, y/n?" Astrid said, crossing her arms.

"We're fine," I said a little too quickly. "Rachel just needs her time, and I-I don't want to mess up things more."

"She'd like to know how you're doing."

"Why? Did she beg you to come here?"

"Of course not. Y/N, are you truly all right?"

I bit my lip; that's a simple but loaded question. Astrid's concentration on me wasn't helping with me being entirely truthful either.

"Not really, no," I admitted.

"I'm so sorry, darling," Astrid said. "Do you have plans or classes for the rest of the day?"

"Well, I have another half hour of office hours."

"Have they really be in and out of here as of late, dear?"

Astrid stepped back over to the door, peeking from under my blinds for some sort of added measure.

"Ok, I guess my office hours are over today," I said, returning to my desk to push the paper I was grading back into my folder. "The rest of my schedule is clear. Did you have something in mind, Astrid?"

"Let me get your mind off of things, let me take you out?"

My face flushed at her words; she doesn't mean what I think she means, right?

"A-Are you asking me out, Astrid?"

"I don't know, if I say yes will that convince you?"

....

Is this a date or not? I didn't ask, yet the feelings were still there--deep in my stomach, my hands barely worked once we got to the restaurant--a chain not too far from campus.

Astrid even pulled the chair out for me, an act of common courtesy right? Rachel's not here and I can still detect her incredulous stare, hopelessly shaking her head--she'd believe it to be more. Should I text her? No, she needs space, I need to focus on this myself.

"Have you decided?" Astrid said, peeking over her menu. "Or do you need more time?"

"No, I'll have the grilled chicken club sandwich with a side of Mac and cheese."

Astrid nodded. "Great, I'll have the salmon and potatoes."

The waitress returned, took our menus and orders, and deposited our drinks at our sides.

Alone now, our eyes keep meeting and I need to try and not make it as awkward as it already is.

"So, do you usually do chain restaurants when you visit the states? Do you visit the states often?"

"Sometimes I visit when Nick is here and he's with Rachel," Astrid explained. "Not often but they have character to them. Not a lot of them have good options but their fries are a guilty pleasure of mine."

I giggled. "Really? Why didn't you order any?"

Astrid shrugged. "I wanted to try something different. Do you prefer chain restaurants? Or do you like something more lower scale? Higher scale, maybe?"

Her eyes swept to me once she said higher scale, smiling to spread the beauty mark on her face magnificently.

"Oh, I'm much more lower scale," I chuckled. "Still a struggling college student at heart but I'm not cheap as I used to be--I'm not cheap at all but--"

"Darling, I get it," Astrid said, laying a hand over my own. "Although, I hope I can give you a taste of that higher scale."

I wanted to draw back, not voluntarily but a knee jerk reaction; she's saying those things again and it's making me feel amazing. I know she means them but I'm not sure why I feel like she doesn't. Astrid's not like those ignorant people back in Singapore, not like the family who ridiculed you and Rachel. I don't even know if she likes women in that way, perhaps she is and I'm overthinking all of it. Maybe I should have contacted Rachel.

"Y/N? Are you all right?"

I decided to be honest and said, "No, not really. But I don't want it to ruin the night, or our time. We don't have to discuss it anymore, at least not right now."

Astrid started for a moment, thinking before nodding. "Of course, darling."

The waitress soon returned with our food, placing it in front of us before retreating to another table swiftly. My sandwich looked fine, Mac and cheese too but the taste wasn't terrible--not good, mediocre, nothing on Kraft or even what they fed us during grade school.

Astrid must have noticed my displeasure, frowning behind her bite of salmon. "Do you not like it?"

"It's not that good, but I'll manage."

"Do you want to replace it? I can tell the waitress."

I flushed, inching into my seat subconsciously, holding my fork tight. "Astrid, it's all right. I can just eat it."

"Why? I want this to be a great experience with amazing food," Astrid explained. "You deserve it, so why can't you let me do this for you?"

Do I really deserve it? I have been feeling shitty since the vacation in Singapore, since Rachel and Nick's supposed split and since--since I couldn't get over being singled out for something I can't control and shouldn't feel ashamed of being: Black. Black American for that matter.

And here Astrid is being so caring and genuine, willing to spend time and money on me; she does feel more for me more than Rachel or Nick's friend--I'm not entirely sure if it's romantic but there's something more here. I hope I'm not reading this wrong.

"Y/N? Whatever you decide, I'll do it for you," Astrid declared.

"Sure, you can order us some fries. Is it all right if we share?"

Astrid smiled; I could have sworn I saw a hint of red peak through her face.

. . .

After some amazing fries and some superb ice cream (thanks to some convincing from Astrid, flashing another smile and heavy eye contact).

She's even more convincing when we're sharing an Uber, laughing lowly at a joke I told. It wasn't that funny, well at least when Rachel's heard it but she's heard it a thousand times; something minuscule about an old job I had, something dry, something existential. Astrid's laugh though, how close she is and the contact--arms brushing mine due to how smaller the car is or for the fact that she's nudging me--or how she pays attention. I can't look at her without smiling which leads to more of the attention.

"You have a wonderful smile, has anyone ever told you that?" Astrid admitted. We finally got back to my apartment, still talking.

I invited her in without thinking, holding her hand so she doesn't trip over the hitch in the last step going up my floor.

"I think my mom told me before? Lots of times, maybe an ex boyfriend, maybe?"

Astrid scoffed, nudging me gently with her elbow. "I'm serious. Every time I see you, there's something new. Something that amazes me."

I pushed the door open, locking it fast as we both rush inside.

"Are you sure you're serious," I said, leaning against the door. My heart is pumping fast, hyper-like all in my ears. "What's with these things you've been saying?"

Astrid tilted her head. "Y/N."

"You have a child! You divorced someone--you're loaded and gorgeous, and I-I'm--"

"You're a beautiful woman I'm having a great time with," Astrid said, finishing my sentence before the words could come out. "Is my being a divorcee an issue?"

She asked the question with an air of humor and walked away from me, finally giving me a chance to breathe from her intoxication. At my bookcase by the wall that sat ways from the threshold to the kitchen, Astrid's attention swept over it, placing a finger up to the spines of the concealed books.

"No, of course not. I-I that's not an issue. Astrid, I-I-"

Everything's hot, burning, my face especially and I can't speak anymore.

"Darling," Astrid's in my presence again, worried.

"Is it OK if we talk more? If I can ask you more things?"

She nodded and I led her to my tiny sofa across from the bookcase, plopping down on it together; our eyes met yet again.

"Ask me anything, darling," she said. "Anything."

"Well, being divorced doesn't matter," I explained. "I just wanted to ask if you, um."

Sexuality is her business, anyone's personal business that they can choose to tell or keep to themselves. Yet she's here asking me and granting me the chance to get to know her better; I can show her a piece of me that I've only shown to the people closest to me.

"Tonight you were very touchy, encouraging and just overall flirty tonight and I--"

Astrid took my hand, slid so close that our thighs now touched. "And?"

It's obvious. So obvious or I'm just idiotic; Rachel would slap me over the head if she could.

"I-I'm bisexual, my liking includes guys, women, gender nonconforming people and everyone in between and around that umbrella," I explained. My hands couldn't stay still, Astrid saw, tightening her grip and rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. "And I-I'm into you Astrid--it seems like you're into me so, do you like women too or not?"

Astrid giggled. "Darling, I've been flirting with you since Nick and Rachel brought you home. I can tell this is a deep issue to you, so yes. I've married a man before, had boyfriends but I fancy women too. Dated a few in university but--that's not important right now. Y/N I'm mad about you too."

I'm giggling now too. It's an organic head-high, almost doubled over with stomach cramping and mouth hurting. Astrid followed in, hands high now: at my arms then shoulders and to my face; I wonder if she can feel the heat radiating from it and noticed how my laughter stopped.

It just happened. I didn't speak, neither did Astrid. Our lips met.

#crazy rich asians #Astrid Leong #black reader #black reader insert #Astrid x reader #gemma chan #henry golding #constance wu #fanfic #fanfiction #crazy rich Asians fic #Astrid x fem reader #fem reader #female reader

20 notes · View notes

thechaoticcheese · 2 days ago

Text

I think I'm obsessed with Cheese interacting with the guys, cause I thought of this during work-

Cheese- Groggily walks into the commons rubbing eyes with glasses on its like 4 am and they spot Price Morning' Price.

Price - Yer up early. Not looking up from pouring coffee.

Cheese - Had a weird fuckin' dream.

Price - Oh?

Cheese - Yeah. I was working as like your assistant or something and you wanted like a burger made of unicorn meat and cigarettes. Starts looking for mint tea bags. Then I went through these mountains to go to this like shadow unicorn with a skull face, I think that's meant to be Ghost? Pulls out mint tea bags and grabs a mug with the text hot chocolate mug on it and hearts at the end of the text. I then asked him for his meat and he just slightly slides out these cartoon-esc cuts of meats from like his mid section. Arms came from like the side of his head. Is pouring honey and some hot water in mug after putting in teabag. He then asks me for some soap from a tavern, which also just so happens where I get the cigarettes, but then he'd give me his meat. I return and give him the bar of soap which he then like absorbs - pauses to blow on tea - the bar of soap as the cartoon cuts of meat just rolls out from his side. Hell only knows how I get back or with breed, which looks like zebra hide mind you, and I present it to you before you unhinge your jaw and a tiny Gaz just yoinks it in before a tiny König appears and the two start to fight over the sandwich. Then I woke up.

Price - Had stopped pouring coffee at the start and is now just staring at a cup of coffee his hands resting on the side of the counter trying to figure out what to say.

Ghost - From a shady corner Why can't you have nightmares like the rest of us?

#cod oc cheese #cheese cod oc #cod #cod mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #john price cod #price cod #price #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost #cod ghost #cod oc

29 notes · View notes

etherepaar · 2 days ago

Note

YOURE INDIAN?? OH GOD THANK GODDD

my boards are starting from 15th and i've spent lotssss of time affirming to get 100% in boards but i don't know if i should affirm saying "i got 100% in boards" or "i will get 100% in boards". i kind of first wanted to entirely wake up in april 2025 so i won't have to give the exam and i could directly just jump to the part where i got 100% in boards, but then i was like nvm i like the thrill of giving an exam, so i'm now affirming with the future tense.

but at the same time im also studying and listening to subliminals. sometimes i get doubts but i push it away because i KNOW i WILL get 100%, but my parents always try to force me into studying 3x more than what i'm currently doing. can you help me figure out how to persist in an environment like this?

Omg, I LOVE this!! First of all, you’re already in the right mindset. You know you’re getting 100%, and that’s literally all you need. Reality has no choice but to match that.

Now, about affirming—it actually doesn’t matter if you say "I got 100%" or "I will get 100%." What matters is your belief. If you know it’s already done, it’s done. Whether you say it in the present or future, the moment you assume it as your reality, that’s what you’ll experience.

And about your parents—girl, every parent is the same. They stress us out, push us to study more, and act like the world will end if we take a break. But deep down, they just want the best for us. That doesn’t mean their fears and doubts have to be yours. You are the creator of your reality.

Keep doing what you're doing—studying, affirming, listening to subliminals—but most importantly, stay in the mindset that this is already yours. You’ve already won. Your 100% is inevitable.

Persisting is simple—decide it’s already done and refuse to entertain anything else.

And honestly? I love that you chose to experience the exams instead of skipping to April. That’s the energy of someone who knows they’ve already won.

- etherepaar

💗🎀

#void success #manifesting #shiftblr #law of assumption #loa advice #loassumption #loa tumblr #loa blog

17 notes · View notes

nodutra19 · 2 days ago

Text

This might be my favorite episode in the whole series. Though I don't play "favorites" for the most part and just look at things as a whole, rather than through rankings.

By critiquing patriarchy and gender, RGU necessarily critiques hero worship. Now, I haven't actually studied up on hero worship just yet. It's an idea I became familiar with after reading The Pike by Lucy Hughes-Hallett. After BHM, I'm gonna read three of her other books, starting with Heroes: Traitors, Saviors, and Superman: A History of Hero Worship. Maybe I'll write about RGU and hero worship by the middle of next month.

In particular with this episode, and as has been built over time, is the idea of "special people." A few episodes ago, Akio waxes poetic over how "special" Utena is, and how special people don't know they're special. There's a few layers to that, but here I wanna focus on the hero worship aspect in terms of Souji/Nemuro.

I've loved this episode for a very long time. It truly feels like a wrinkle in time and space. It gives me nostalgia for a where and when I never laid personal witness to. Last year around this time I read American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin. The very first chapter has the quote:

Around the globe, scientists were soon to be celebrated as a new kind of hero, promising to usher in a renaissance of rationality, prosperity and social meritocracy. In America, reform movements were challenging the old order. Theodore Roosevelt was using the bully pulpit of the White House to argue that good government in alliance with science and applied technology could forge an enlightened new Progressive Era.

For some reason I never drew this connection to RGU until today. It did tickle me on my rewatch last year but still.

"Genius." What a loaded word! I've read about geniuses, from Marx to Oppie to Tolstoy to Nabokov and now to W.E.B Du Bois, and they were all just as foolish as they were intelligent! I think we see here a sort of prefigurement to Akio and his relationship to Prince Dios. Literally they are the same, but Prince Dios lives on as a separate image to which Akio aspires because 1.) He wants to regain lost time and 2.) These are the demands of patriarchy.

But that's all it really is: an image. An idea. A rotten ideal in white. "But is that what she really wants?"

In this case, Professor Nemuro somewhat does fit the mold of a "genius." A genius is an odd person, a disconcerting changeling. A Byronic solitary figure who "doesn't fit in," who "stands out," who "comes into your life like a hurricane." They're a little beyond human ken. They are a "god among men." They are often "hard to work with." And the worship is just as cultic and religious as all these romantic phrases imply.

Of course, most of their contemporaries think lesser of them than what subsequent myth making would imply. In the case of Marx, he could be a bit grumpy (and was a D1 bum in the funniest sense. An iconic debt shuffler) and had terrible handwriting. You'll often hear people say "Smart people think so fast they can seem rude" or "Have bad handwriting." Behaviors and traits that would otherwise be pathologized are at least excused if not embellished if someone is a "genius."

I think there are other layers to this stuff, especially, I imagine, for those who are ace and aro, but I dunno enough about that to get into the weeds about it.

To bring things real close to RGU, I remember some years ago getting into a conversation with some several years older than me. They were an immigrant, and so I helped them with dealing with the culture shock they were facing. Eventually we got to talking about generations, and they said "I think this generation [referring to mine, Gen Z], will change the world. If more people were like you, things would be better." I was obviously flattered, especially the second bit, but the first bit had always bothered me. As I'm reading through David Levering Lewis's biography on W.E.B Du Bois for BHM, I'm reminded of how Du Bois came up with the idea of the "Talented Tenth." They were essentially the Black Vanguard who would lift the Black race up. Later on, however, he revised it to the "Guiding Hundredth," which attempted to democratize the idea and expand racial lines to something more intersectional. Having gained this knowledge after that conversation, I realize why I was bothered by what that person said: it seemed another form of idolatry. Changing the world isn't the work of a chosen few predetermined by a secular mandate of heaven (In Oppie's time, it was scientists. Nowadays, the "heroes" are entrepreneurs and venture capitalists), it will involve all of us, of all walks of life.

My thoughts are very soupy on this subject, so pardon if I seemed rambly and unfocused.

I'll at least leave a few quotes:

I've become convinced that genius is a vastly overrated commodity. I think this country is full of geniuses, guys and gals so bright they make your average card carrying MENSA member look like Fucko the Clown. And I think that most of them are teachers, living and working in small town obscurity because that's the way they like it. —Stephen King Insomnia

To hell with the philosophy of the great men of this world! All great wise men are as despotic as generals and as rude and insensitive as generals, because they are confident of their impunity. —Anton Chekhov, after souring a bit on a late controversial play by Tolstoy. As translated by Rosamund Bartlett

Genius…means little more than the faculty of perceiving in an unhabitual way. —William James The Principle of Psychology

That last quote is part of the epigraph of the Du Bois biography I'm reading. So rn I got a lot on my head about geniuses, professors, heroism, hero worship, masculinity, etc.

For Marx and Tolstoy, I recommend the biographies Love and Capital: Karl and Jenny Marx and the Birth of a Revolution by Mary Gabriel and Tolstoy: A Russian Life by Rosamund Bartlett (along with her excellent translation of Anna Karenina)

Fansub release + translation notes for Utena ep 22!

さすがに何でもよく知ってるわね。でもそれだけの情報網��あるなら、早く奴らの正体も突き止めて欲しいわ。

You know everything, don’t you Juri? With such a vast intelligence network, I wish you’d hurry up and find out these people’s true identities. (literal translation)

You know everything, don’t you Juri? I wish you'd put your little birdies to work finding out just who is behind this. (final translation)

情報網 (jouhoumou) is an interesting word to use here! It literally means “intelligence network”, so Nanami is implying that Juri has a bunch of spies feeding her everytthing that happens at the school. To actually use the word “intelligence network” sounds a little but out of place in English though, so I rephrased the line a little to sound more conversational and accusatory.

Boy: しばらく消えないでしょうね、根室教授。 Nemuro: ん？なんだい？ Boy: 雪の事ですよ、教授。

Boy: Won't disappear for a while still, eh, Professor Nemuro? Nemuro: I beg your pardon? Boy: I was talking about the snow, Professor.

There’s a double meaning in the first line here — the boy could reasonably be talking about the Professor himself not clearing out for a while. That was actually my original phrasing: “Won’t clear out for a while” but Anya suggested “disappear” which is actually much closer to the original Japanese phrasing so I changed it to that. I think this exchange preserves that passive aggressive dig at the Professor pretty well!

あの人は花が散るのを見たくないんですよ。こうすれば短い命の花も少しは長持ちさせることができる。でも、こうまでして永らえても花自身は嬉しいんでしょうか？

She hates it when the petals begin to fall. This way even a short-lived flower can be made to last a little longer. But… I wonder how the flowers feel about their existence being prolonged like this.

This is one of my favourite exchanges in the show! I think this really emphasises how Japanese sentence structure and general way of phrasing things differs drastically from English. A literal translation of the first sentence would be something like “That person does not want to see flowers scatter”. Each part of the sentence sounds weird if translated individually:

あの人 - “that person” being used because Japanese prefers that phrasing to third person pronoun “she”.

花が散る - “flowers scatter” is the most natural way to say “petals fall/die” in Japanese but sounds very odd in English

見たくないんですよ - “does not want to see X” also sounds very funny when translated directly to English, but simply conveys the idea that she doesn’t like seeing something happen.

When taken as a whole, complete idea though, the sentence can easily be translated into something that sounds natural in English: “She hates it when the petals begin to fall.”

The hardest part of this to translate was the last sentence. I originally had translated it like this: “So much work to make them last, and yet I wonder if the flowers themselves are happy.”

こうまでして - to go this far/to put in this much effort/to put in this much work. However, this is more of a tone setting phrase than a meaning carrying phrase, so it’s okay not to translate it directly.

永らえる - to prolong something’s lifespan. This is hard to translate because while the phrasing works in Japanese, the preserved flowers are actually dead. So you can’t translate it as “I wonder how the flowers feel about being made to live so long” or something of that ilk. My original translation of “make them last” works, but I prefer the final translation of “existence being prolonged”. It sounds more applicable to Mamiya’s situation, and this exchange is all about that metaphor.

永遠に憧れる心が美しく思えたりするだけだ。

(lit.) We just think of a heart that longs for eternity as beautiful. (??)

We just romanticise the idea of eternity.

Another great example of Japanese phrasing that sounds super weird when translated directly, but can sound very natural when the core idea behind the words is translated properly. “Romanticise” is such a succinct one-word translation of the several word phrase 「憧れる心が美しく思えたり」!

Thank you to my amazing editor @dontbe-lasanya for their help with the episode as always!

Follow the blog to stay updated with new episodes. For all episodes released so far, go here:

Rose divider taken from this post.

#rgu #revolutionary girl utena #akio ohtori #souji mikage #professor nemuro #utena tenjou #kunihiko ikuhara

38 notes · View notes