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#i also don't think i look good no matter what i wear
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Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx
Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶
"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".
"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.
"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.
Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.
"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".
"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.
"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".
"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.
"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.
Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.
"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.
"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.
"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.
"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.
"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.
The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.
Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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blacklegsanjiii · 1 day
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Hi! Random headcanon of mine i thought you'd like
While watching the show i noticed that while all the boys are spread out starfish style when they sleep, Sanjis usually curled up on his side with one arm under his head and the other to jis chest
So ofcourse one of the reasons for this sleeping habit is protection and habit from his childhood but i also like to think that he's a bit of a cozy bug with that he lovess the be covered in all kinds of soft blankets that only his face or top of his head is really visible, and roll up as tight as possible (do i do this? Maybe maybe)
Also combines with that other people (cough luffy, zoro, ace, sabo and many more cough) are total cuddle bugs who will latch on the nearest object of warmth... Yeahh cozy vibes are good
That's so fucking good, thank you for catching that! That makes everything hurt so much worse! Sanji who curls up tight, not only for protection but also to conserve his warmth. So does Sanji absolute cocoon in himself in as many blankets as he can? Yes. Does it matter he can set himself on fire? No. Sanji is forever cold. Look at them going to Egghead, he was freezing despite the fact he can be on fire!
Also Sanji is so fucking touch starved? Tell me he's not. So like clearly he's finding all these warm bodies starfished around the Merry or the Sunny and rolls his eyes as he finds his own place to sleep, he could go to his bunk but without the others it's too quiet, so he'll curl up somewhere on deck and fall asleep. So let's go through the list of his boyfriends and what they do when they find their boyfriend curled up somewhere!
-Luffy will just fall on top of Sanji making the blond wake up and glare at him. Luffy just passes out instantly instead of acknowledging what he's done.
-Zoro will take the cook and put him in his bunk/hammock. Or to his quarters and lay the cook beside him, sometimes he wakes up to cook grabbing him like an octopus.
-I fully believe in Sanji will seek out Ace if they're dating because he's warm and curl up around the guy. He's gotta be so fucking warm. Ace is nicer than luffy and lays next to the cook instead of on. Sanji will find the heat and burrow into it.
-Sabo wears like eight layers already so he will shed like five layers to lay them on his boyfriend. Or if Sabo has eaten the fruit he will curl up around the cook in order to infuse as much heat as he can into the guy.
-Law sleeps exactly like Sanji. They don't touch and they are so cold. Bepo and Robin will put blankets on them.
idk if i should put the controversial ships in but here's the top five!
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phrandallanton · 2 days
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ranfren headcannons
I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_・ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!
Randal
• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop
• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)
• has tear stains on his homework sometimes
• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)
• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.
• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"
• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")
• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.
• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.
• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.
• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.
• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.
• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.
• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.
Luther
• he can dance but it's weird.
• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.
• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.
• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.
• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"
• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.
• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.
• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."
• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.
• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.
• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.
• eats ice cream with his front teeth.
Nyon
• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.
• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)
• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.
• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.
• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.
• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)
• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)
Nyen
• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")
• good at math, sucks at reading.
• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)
• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.
• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.
• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.
• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)
•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):
Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..
Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...
*they then discuss this for an hour or so*
• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.
• oddly very ticklish I bet.
~~~~~~
That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.
"I'm going to sleep" -bop it
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jamiedc-they-them · 3 days
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Good People (Platonic)
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Summary: While in the Wasteland, running on nothing but fumes and even less hope, you meet someone. Someone who might just be the one thing you need in a place like this: a friend.
Note: This is shorter than my usual stuff (both in terms of words, probably, and also just in terms of content - more so a scene than anything else; maybe a series of short scenes showing Lucy's arc if you guys want and how her friendship with Y/N develops?) Let me know in an ask!
You were a survivor. You had been since the moment you were born, but you weren't sure how much longer that was going to last.
Your day hadn't started off good, you see. You were running out of water and had passed out earlier due to some kind of infection - no idea what it was or who/what it was from, you had come across a lot of beings and things in your travels - and some guy had thought you were dead and even pissed on you just in case. Was not refreshing, or nice.
You had fought him off, tackling him to the floor and punching him quite a few times. You didn't kill him, however. You just left him be after that.
An odd fellow with a briefcase who promise you everything you could ever want passed you by. He gave you something that gave you a boost. You had no caps, so the only piece of fluid you had left on you - your water container - was given to him in exchange for this item.
So, now you were even more screwed then before.
The man even seemed to somewhat pity you, but he still left.
You find an abandoned bus. It's been picked, recently or otherwise doesn't really matter, picked clean is picked clean. Or, well, as clean as you can get within the apocalypse.
"Hello?" a voice says. You spin around, reaching for a weapon you don't have as you lost it in the scuffle before, and so instead duck down - hitting your head on one of the seats.
You hear the person outside cringe.
"Sorry," she says, earnestly to your shock, "that sounded like it hurt."
"...It did," you find yourself saying in reply, but still keep your head done.
"Sorry," she says, again, "it's ok," she assures you, "I won't hurt you. I promise."
You peak your head up. The first thing you notice, is how clean she looks. She gives you a bright smile.
"Hi," she says, enthusiastically.
You just blink at her.
"It's ok," she assures again, "my weapon is away. I just - I just wanna talk. I'm a bit lost out here give, you know, everything is mainly just sand."
You guess that's fair. So, against your better judgment, you make your way to the stairs at the bus, and sit down. The woman sits down, letting out a sigh, glad to be able to rest for a moment.
She stretches. You adjust your neck. You must've slept funny.
"I'm Lucy," she says, holding out a hand to you.
"Y/N," you say, shaking her hand. Feels weird, being this open with someone.
"Y/N," she says, "that's a nice name. I never knew someone called Y/N before."
You're about to ask her why, when you see what she's wearing.
You whistle, or as best you can with a dry throat, it's croaky but the idea comes through, "you one of them Vault Dwellers?"
"I am," she says, and you're unsure if it's a proud statement or not, "but, I do also recognise my privilege for being one."
You hum, "how you finding up here?"
"Hot," she says, "we have air conditioning in the vaults. So, it's weird not being able to just turn down the temperature."
You chuckle. She smiles.
"Thank you for not trying to kill me."
You gesture to yourself, "don't exactly have anything to do that with, you know? Besides, you're not a bad person. I've met some bad people, you ain't one of them."
"Thank you. I knew there were good people out here."
You shrug, "I don't think I'm exactly 'good', but I've known worse."
"Well, I'm glad I've run into you. You're alot nicer than the previous man I met."
"Yeah, there'll be people like that..." you pause, then ask the question on your mind, "what brings you top side, Lucy?"
"Oh," there's a hint of hope, mixed with sadness in her eyes while she answers, "I'm looking for my dad. Some horrible woman called Moldaver took him. She steals dads."
You may internally find that last part funny, but you find yourself saying 'I'm sorry' to her about her plight. She thanks you once again.
"You're not crazy like that other man."
She's blunt, you'll give her that.
"I can be," you don't quite know why you're insulted by it.
She cocks her head to the side, "I'm good at reading people," you aren’t sure on that one, but you don't say anything, "and you're not like that previous man."
"What'd he do?"
"Drank most of my water. You ever met anyone like that?"
"Guy pissed on me this morning. Another stole my canteen."
"Oh..." Lucy says. You nod, expecting this to be the end of your conversion, but then she reaches behind herself for something. Instinct makes you freeze, but she just gives you a reassuring smile once again, and holds something out to you.
Her own canteen.
You look at her, doubt, confusion, and thanks all in your eyes at once.
"Take it," she insists, shaking it a little to tell you that there is still water inside it, "I mean it."
"But, that other man --"
"He's greedy. You aren't. And, judging by your lips, rough voice, inability to whistle, and slight grovel to your voice, and the way you hold yourself," perceptive too, "you need this more than I do."
"You sure?" she nods. Hesitantly, looking from her to the canteen as you reach out - her leaning forward to help you with your lack of energy due to dehydration and all - you grab it. It's not harsh, you don't rip it out of her grasp. Your actions are slow, deliberate.
You open it, and lift it up to your mouth, letting a few water droplets hit it.
You close it and give it back to her. But she pushes it to you again. This goes on a few more times.
"I meant what I said," she says, "take it."
You look around at the desert, "next water well won't be for a while."
She shrugs, "there's a town nearby. There should be some there. But, either way, you need this a lot more than I do."
You drink the rest of it. And, you feel ok. Not great, but better.
You cough a bit. Both due to whatever illness you have, and just from the water and how fast you drank it.
"That's a bad cough," she notes, taking the canteen back.
"Ah, it's nothing," you say, waving her off. Had worse infections.
You stand up, and she holds her hands out in case you fall. You put a hand up, telling her you're ok.
"Well," you say, "thank you for that, and the talk. Good people are few and far between. Best of luck --"
"Hey, wait!" she calls out as you start to walk away, "wait, please. Maybe - maybe you can help me."
"I ain't exactly much help given the lack of weapons, strength, and my illness."
She frowns, "well, once we find my dad, we can go back to my vault, we have doctors there who can help you and give you a good meal!"
She's preppy, but soon that softens in her eyes, "please...I can stop people from...urinating on you."
You snort at her disgust of the language. She has a lot to learn. Social ettiquite may exist in some places in the wasteland, but not everywhere.
"Well, when you put it like that..." you say, before smiling. She beams at you.
"Okey Dokey!" she exclaims.
"Okey Dokey!" you find yourself saying in kind, not mocking for once - you and your mouth had gotten you into trouble before, it was nice to not have some agenda with it this time. To let your guard down.
"Have you ever been to Filly before?" she asks you as you walk side by side. Though, she slows up a bit as you try and both get your strength back and keep your remaining bit.
"Once or twice when passing through," you say.
"Alrighty then," she says, glad to not be going in completely blind, "'this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'" she says to you, clearly quoting something, based on her voice. You look at her confused.
"I'll show you the film when we're back at the vault," she says, before you continue on your way.
It's good to meet someone who didn't want to kill you on sight or extort you or something.
It was nice to not be alone anymore.
Lucy feels the same way. She has a sort of guide now. A friend.
An actual friend from the outside.
She's glad.
And, little did she know how right she'd be. It would be a friendship that would stand the test of time and everything in between.
Lucy had just met her best friend.
You had met yours.
Even if you both didn't know just how dark and dangerous the road ahead would get...
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Tw use of the term "slut" in a sexual contest [idk if that even is a tw but i wanted to specify it].
So, there is a certain person i've been interacting with, here on this blog. I think you know who you are. You know i'm talking about you, dear 😏
And there is also this recurring fantasy going on and on in my mind.
The two of us are hanging out together with some other friends, hand in hand, and you are wearing a delicious short skirt. One of those flowery skirts, extremely sexy, and easy to lift up, by the way. I love it, i love it and i love the way it looks on your body. The urge to take that off of you, right in front of our friends and everybody else around us, it's making it hard to focus on the conversation taking place.
And, to make matters even worse, i know you are a little bit of an attention slut...well, you are an attention slut, big time. You want my attention to focus on you, only you, and you can't help acting all bratty.
You smile at me in that way, twirling your hair just like the slut you are, and then look away. You keep accidentally touching my waist, my thight, my hair, and making up stupid excuses for it. <<There was a fly on your shoulder>> or <<I thought you spilled some coffee on your trousers>>. But the worst thing is, you act like you're not doing it on purpose, like you're not doing anything wrong.
What is it? You can't stand it, when i give my attention to all of this people, instead of focusing it all on my little slut?
Well, it's not like i didn't tell you before what i think about this kind of behaviour: i don't like it, when you act like that in public. Maybe it's time for me to show you what this bratty behaviour gets you.
I would propose to sit down at a table, and of course make you sit right in between my legs, so that everybody can see who you belong to. <<My little slut is a bit jealous, mmh?>> I whisper in your ear, and enjoy as my words make you stir against my lap. Enjoy as i watch your pretty cheeks blush.
When the waitress arrive to take the order, i ask for a glass of pomegranate juice. And it would be a real shame if i were too- mmh, idk, spill it on that pretty dress of yours. Oopsie, you know i'm a bit clumsy sometimes, baby. I'm so sorry. Of course it's not like i meant to stain your skirt, to make it all adeherent to your legs and sheer.
Our friends give me some tissues to dry your legs up, of course. But, alas, i can't do it properly if you don't spread your legs a bit. They're under the table: no one except me can see what's behind that slutty skirt of yours. I start slowly rubbing your inner thights with those tissues, up and down. Try to keep a straight face now, slut. Or would you like all of our friends to know exactly what's going on under the table?
Isn't that what you were suggesting, my dear?
Oh, you were trying to suggest i'd take you home, first? Well, too bad, slut. Act like a brat in public, get punished in public.
I push my hand even further, pressing the soaked tissues on your even more soaked underwear, and you let out a loud gasp. It's loud enough for everyone else at the table to hear it, loud enough for you to be forced to make up an excuse for it.
Good luck with that, slut.
And what kind of punishment would it be, if i gave you what you wanted? Oh no, you gotta learn your lesson: as soon as it feels like you're starting to enjoy it, i stop moving my fingers and move them away from your clothed cunt.
Yeah, i want you to get more and more frustrated while i use you as i please.
<<Try to keep a straight face, slut. Take your punishment, and wait until we get home>>.
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strawblemon · 6 months
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How I dress in real life vs. what i dress like in video games
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girlscience · 3 months
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the past few weeks I've been feeling basically zero dysphoria and yet the amount I was thinking about my body didn't decrease even slightly
#imagine not having a constant soundtrack of#'i have boobs. do i hate them? do i like them? what are they feeling? they are moving. nipples. touching things. i hate it. i like it.'#and on and on and on. i do think my dysphoria as a whole has been on a constant decline since I finished puberty#and I really don't know how I feel about that#like technically it should be a good thing... but I don't know how to feel about my body otherwise#and also what does that mean about gender for me. i don't really get the point of being a different gender if i am chill with my body#like..... literally no one is ever going to look at me and not see woman#no matter what i do.#whatever vibe some people have that just makes people know they are somehow different#i do not have that. i get lumped into VERY classic woman no matter what i do#i have chopped all my hair off and don't shave and don't wear makeup and half my clothes are mens and i never wear dresses#it almost makes me want to ask people what i am doing wrong#like i don't think it's bad to be associated with women. i don't hate it#but there are people who are like 'even when i was fully femme other people could tell there was something different about me'#i straight up don't think anyone has ever once thought that about me. i genuinely don't think people even see me as a gnc woman#is it the way i talk? the way i carry myself?? my face????? i don't Know#that was. not at all the point of this post#basically i'm feeling less dysphoria and it is just as discomforting as feeling dysphoria#and i am so tired of constantly being aware of my body#and i wish it would stop but i don't think it ever will and it makes me want to cry
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moe-broey · 1 year
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Boots :)
Another Started As A Test Subject and now they're literally the only thing I ever fucking wear. Idk how well it shows in the pics but they are badly cracked and have been worn into the ground but like. Shoe comfy :(
Also the wings are a new addition! The inner ones slap against each other. Doesn't really bother me personally though so I'm keeping them as is 😅 Oh, and the laces are paracord!
#funnily enough these are also something i got at the beginning of my transition thinking 'oh yeah this is masc. surely.'#final tangent but this is why insane fucking terfs/transphobes who are like#'noooo don't transition what about our butches what about our tomboy gfs :(((('#i was literally never either of those things.#they are all so stupid 🥲 (for. a lot of very obvious reasons LMFAOO but specifically for that as well.)#but yeah i literally used fashion and artsy self expression as a way to cope LMFAOOO#and as a way to draw attention away from myself. despite. drawing SO much attention to myself.#seems counter intuitive and i won't argue w you there LMAOO it was to sort of just. be like.#look at my cute outfit :) don't. don't even think about the guy underneath them.#AND it was ALSO the only way i could somehow feel some semblance of self. cause i did truly love what i'd wear#and then i'd wonder why i'd break down crying at the thought of what i am without those clothes.#just? a girl? the idea gutted me and made me want to tear my skin off with my nails and teeth#but like. i'm sure this has zero implications about me. who i am. ect. and has nothing to do w trans thoughts i had in middle school.#time to pick a perfect outfit and get a good grade in Girl™ 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊#nowadays i just wake up put on a band tee and i'm just some guy. forever and always. it's so fucking cool#literally does not matter if it's a pants day or a shorts and tights day i'm just some guy. it's so fucking awesome 😎👍#for real even though i do still struggle w dysphoria some days worse than others i am so at peace.#i just wish everyone saw me the way i do. i literally cannot comprehend how anyone looks at me and goes#'ah....... a woman.' like. dude. for real? what are you seeing that i don't.#like bro!!! way not cool!!!! lame ass motherfucker!!!!#<- GSJSGSJ WAIT WHEN DID I USE THIS TAG BEFORE LMFAOO?? IT'S. SO FITTING HERE HAHAHAHA#anyways i was gonna say idk if i saw a motherfucker who's clearly striving for some androgyny#and a sick ass mullet no matter what immediately registers in my mind that i may have to correct later#i'm just. going to assume. they are some type of queer. and i am avoiding pronouns/gendered language#til they tell me 'oh yeah i'm :) and my pronouns are :)' and i'd adjust accordingly.#like idk that's so normal to me. what's not clicking for literally everyone else.#UGH ANYWAY i've been ranting and infodumping way too long i wanna get ready for bed now LMFAO#also if at any point you've looked at these pics and thought 'damn bitch you live like this'#yes. i know. i'm aware. i do live like this LMFAO 🫡😔#my projects
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queer-ecopunk · 6 months
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So, I'm trans. And several years ago, I was at my great grandfather's funeral. 17, newly on T, barely out to anyone other than my close friends and family. And I'm standing there at the refreshment's table, surrounded by strangers and members of my family's church, when George walks up to me.
This man is ancient, bent like a finger and frail. Tufts of white hair surround his wrinkled face. Like always, he's wearing thick glasses, massive hearing aids, and his veteran's hat. George was my first introduction to the concept of war, when he told me as a child why he was missing two fingers on his hand. He's been a fixture at church since I can remember. I've only ever seen him at there or in uniform at parades, the rest of his time spent in a nursing home somewhere. He picks up a deviled egg and says, in his quiet voice,
"You know, before your grandfather died, he told me that now he had 3 grandsons."
I'm frozen in place. I don't know what to say to that, if I should say anything at all. This is not a conversation I expected to have, especially not with this man. But he continues.
"I didn't know what he meant! So he explained it to me."
And I can imagine it. My great grandfather, uninformed and opinionated but supportive, explaining to his friend the news he barely understood himself over after-service coffee and cookies. His eldest grandchild was now a boy.
"And, you know, I didn't know what to think."
Here, George looks me up and down. This 90-something year old war veteran, who knew me mostly as the little girl playing in the church kitchen with his wife, processing what my great grandfather had really meant. It feels like a long pause, even thought it probably passed in a second.
"But you look good. So, eh!"
And then he smiled, shrugged, and walked away without another word. If I was fine, if I was happier, then that's all that mattered.
George passed away this week, at the age of 99. This memory has been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I wasn't sure if or how I should share it. It was a conversation that meant very little, but also meant the world. It was scary, and funny, and the moment when I realized that sometimes the people you least expect will accept you. Sometimes, even if they don't fully understand, even if they barely know you, someone will choose to support you. And that will always matter.
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chaepink · 5 months
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can u make headcannons on sub!yan’s tendencies in the relationship?
also can i be 🉑 or 🌝 anon?
dating sub!yandere boys hcs ♡
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sub!yandere boys when they date you.
wc: 1.1k+ words | masterlist
dom!fem!reader, unhealthy relationship, mention of killing/murder, both sfw and nsfw!, mention of feminization, bondage
note: yes you can be 🌝 anon!
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— your yandere would be possessive of you, even more compared to when you two were just friends
— well, you thought you two were just friends. he already assumed you two were together sometime earlier during his friendship with you
— he would do anything for you in order to make sure you're happy and safe
— a friend of yours is getting too touchy with you? well the next day that friend is ignoring you and when you confront them, they look at you scared and quickly scurry away from you. did your yandere do something to them? surely not
— a weird guy keeps following you around your neighborhood? well a couple of days later you see on the news that his body has been found near a river and weirdly enough, you havent seen your yandere on the days before the guy's death
— you complain to your yandere about how a teacher gave you a bad grade on something you worked so hard on? suddenly your grade changes to a A and that same exact teacher suddenly resigns from the school
— he'll try his best to know where you are most of the time and try to follow you back home to make sure you're safe (though its really obvious, you don't acknowledge him so he thinks he's actually doing something)
— but no matter how scary and possessive they are of you, they just want to be good for you, really
— its almost as if they're a puppy for you, always there for your beck and call
— give them a simple command and they'll do it immediately, no questions asked
— ask them to buy you a snack from the nearest store? he'll return back with a bagful of others that he thought you would like
— they're super clingy and always want to be near you
— somehow they manage to have the same exact classes that you have and at the same time. maybe you guys are just lucky? little do you know that your yandere hacked into the principal's computer to change his schedule to fit with yours
— if you're sick, they would immediately fetch you some medicine and make so many bowls of your favorite soup that you're not sure you could finish them all
— they would be so sad when you're sick cause that means they can't be as close as they usually are with you :(
— in bed, nothing changes at all. rather, he becomes even more infatuated with you
— they're still so good and obedient for you, always following your commands. its cute
— like what i said with him doing it with no hesitation, your yandere is eager to do what you say
— tell him to get on his knees? say less as he's already doing so, staring up at you with such innocent eyes
— tell him to open his mouth for you to stick your fingers inside? he opens wide and sticks out his tongue in such a sinful manner, hazy eyes absolutely begging you to make him choke on your fingers as drool drips down his chin
— order him to suck your strap and get it all wet? he's quick to get in between your legs and get his hands on the fake dick, his mouth going straight to bobbing it up and down and gagging as it hits the back of his throat. he'll try to subtly grind his hard on against your foot without you noticing but you do anyways but he's being a good boy so you allow it
— and oh my god is he so shameless in public
— no hesitation in telling you what he wants you to do to him when there are people around
— you'll be at brunch with some of your friends and suddenly you'll feel a hot breath on your ear, such sinful words coming soon after
"im wearing lingerie under my clothes, your favorite set too. wouldn't you like to just ruin me right here and now? make me cry and look so pretty while you show everyone im yours?"
— safe to say that you immediately dragged him to the family bathroom and fingered him until he was gripping onto you for dear life, begging and crying out for you to stop and take pity on him (he's lying about wanting you to stop)
— when you're out with errands or just at work, he'll take such sinful pictures of himself to send to you randomly
— the pictures would include his legs spread out, a obvious bulge in his underwear, and something adorning his body whether its lingerie, a maid outfit, or rope that's tied so tightly on him
— if he's feeling like teasing you even more, he'll send whimpering audios that beg you to come home and fuck him and if you listen close enough, you'll hear some wet noises that let you know that he's masturbating
"f-fuck, [name] come back s-soon, please? i-i miss you so much! i- ah! i-im wearing your favorite outfit right now! i'll be a g-good ngh boy waiting for you ♡"
— itll end up with you rushing home after you're finished to fuck him dumb in that outfit, making it stained with his tears and cum
— he knows you can't really get him pregnant but your yandere just loves those straps with cum in them that you can just shoot inside him whenever you're fucking him fast and rough
— that'll make his eyes roll back and head throw backwards as he lets out such a loud mewl at the feeling of your fake cum filling him up
— and afterwards he'll tease you by using his fingers to push the cum thats gushing out of his hole back in before licking his fingers
— although your yandere is a good boy for you most of the time, theres times where he's a brat
— he'll talk back to you whenever you command him to do something or cum without permission
— but just some long edging or overstimulation will break him and turn him into a sobbing mess
— tying his hands to the headboard and keeping his legs spread apart whilst a vibrator is inside him on the highest setting is his favorite punishment
— your yandere thinks you don't know that since you do it all the time but you actually do know it, you just love the way his face is stained with his drool and tears while his chest and the sheets underneath him is covered in his cum afterwards
— such a slut but we love him for it
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ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink
╰┈➤ masterlist | rules
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melonn-soda · 4 months
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thinking about a pervy ghost that inhabited the house you just moved into, wondering why the last person moved out and who exactly you were. so, for the next two weeks, he watches and studies you and finds out how exactly lewd you are.
he sees that you wear super revealing clothes when you walk around the house by yourself, sometimes even going naked. he vividly remembers the first time he saw you in nothing but really short basketball shorts and a tank top, his eyes going wide and mouth agape. how could a boy be this slutty??
there was also the days were you would come drunk with a stranger's arm around your waist and sloppily making out on the living room couch (the ghost would be watching jealously on the rocking chair reserved for your cat on sunny days) before it ending up in a fuckfest. were you this shameful?
now, don't get him wrong, he absolutely loved watching all this. he is a pervert, after all.
sometimes, he would purposely blow cold air down your shoulder blades when you're bending over doing laundry to watch you shiver and whip your head around to see what did that. he watches you masturbate in the middle of the night, getting off alongside you while watching your face twist in the most delightful ways. he remembers the pattern that you wash yourself in (shampoo, conditioner, body wash, facial cleanser, and extra stuff only when you felt like it). you couldn't see him so what's the harm in it all?
while putting on a new change of clothes on, he thought it would be funny to run his freezing cold hands down your sides and sliding them over your stomach when you were putting on your shirt. he giggled when he heard you whimper and shiver, immediately shoving the rest of the shirt down to block out the cold.
"cute.." he muttered from behind, arms still hovering in place around your form.
"knew it." you turned your head and stared straight at his face with an eery smile, catching him by surprise.
all at once, he felt your back push against his torso and he stumbled until the back of his knees hit the bed and he flopped onto your mattress that smelled too intoxicating. 'how did you..?' he would think to himself before feeling you crawl on top on him, legs on each side on his stomach.
"pervy little ghost.. think you can watch me do nasty stuff and touch me like that without consequences." your tone was so condescending that he swore his dick twitched in excitement, "I had a rising suspicion that you were an actual ghost and I wasn't going crazy with hallucinations. but that doesn't matter anymore." you shook your head, "it seems like you need to know your place. your going to be nothing but a toy for me. no touching, no talking, no teasing in any form unless I say so. do you understand?"
"wha..?" he mutters, only for you to press a finger against his lips. 'why were you able to do that..?' why was he even getting hard right now?
"I said, do you understand?" you repeated, this time with a voice dripping in venom. he nodded his head with sweat dripping down his forehead. you smiled in response, "good boy!" he watched as you sat right on his dick, purposely shifting your ass around as a whine ripped through his throat, "now, your punishment. you sit there and look pretty while I ride you, yeah? make sure you keep up."
oh boy. what has he gotten himself into?
might make this an oc. only if you guys are interested.
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caelivir · 3 months
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hidden lights | rayne ames
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— synopsis. reading rayne ames is impossible. that's why you don't get why he offers to take you out on a date after you've been stood up again.
— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader
— genres. modern au, you and rayne are roommates, fluff, you’re so oblivious it hurts, rayne's most likely ooc towards the end but we do it for plot,
— warnings. one kys thrown in at the end but it’s not in a serious manner
— word count. 3.2k
— notes. in honor of triple liner rayne being animated. i have quite literally been waiting to see it animated for years. also hi.
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you can never tell what rayne ames is thinking. he wears the same cold, uninterested glare on his face at all times of the day. he never speaks unless spoken to, never lets you know when he leaves the apartment, never does anything to show that he actually has emotions.
you're asked on the daily how you survive rooming with him, and in all honesty, it's really not that bad. he does his half of the chores, and he doesn't leave his shit all over the apartment. really, the guy's only problem is his lack of emotion. it drives you up the wall.
finn says not to take it to personally during the one day he visited his brother. apparently, he's like that with everyone, but he's still a good guy. it just takes time.
you would like to believe that, but rayne makes that extremely difficult to believe when he looks like he wants to kill every person who so happens to exist in his direction.
so naturally, seeing him so angered after finding out that you've been stood up is surprising. it's an even bigger shock when he offers to take you out on a date instead.
you don't know what compels you to agree. even if you hadn't accepted his offer, something tells you that rayne would've found a way to get you to leave with him so there's no use in trying to deny him in this matter.
that's why you allow him to drive all the way to marchétte street, where a night market is being held in full swing. the road has all sorts of stalls lined up one after the other, ranging from foods to clothes. but because the marchétte night market is ridiculously popular, the place is packed to the brim with people.
rayne offers his hand once he notices that you're daunted by the crowds. you stare at him with surprise. when you don't make a move to accept this action, rayne huffs before grabbing your hand. he interlocks his fingers with yours and drags you into marchétte street's traffic.
the first thing you note is that rayne's hands are surprisingly warm and soft. for someone so incapable of talking, his touch is strangely reassuring.
he drags you to a vendor selling takoyaki. and even as he orders, rayne doesn’t let go of your hand.
“what do you want?” he says into your ear so that he doesn’t have to yell over all the noise. the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin sends shivers down your spin. it's maddening.
“oh. uh-” your eyes quickly scan over the menu, and you blurt out the first item that you read. out of habit you reach for your wallet, but rayne is quick to shut you down.
“absolutely not.” he grumbles, letting your hand drop to your side so he can pull out his cash. rayne hands the amount to the girl at the register, and she hands back his change that he drops into the tip jar.
“thanks.” you say quietly, still so flustered about the entire situation.
rayne only studies you before humming in acknowledgement. “come on.” he guides his hand to your upper back, moving you out the way so you can wait on the side for your orders.
it’s during this time you really look at rayne as if that would provide you with the answers you need to understand him. you try to wrap your head around it. you draft up every possible explanation, but none of them seem to make sense.
unless… it couldn’t be… does rayne like you? you shake your head, dismissing the thought as soon as it crosses your mind. no, that’s absurd, the furthest thing from logical. this is rayne ames we’re talking about. in the five months that you’ve been living together, you two have never had a solid conversation. how could he ever like someone he’s barely talked to?
you're about to confront rayne about his intentions until your number order is called, and all the courage you built up crumbles away as rayne leaves you to go pick up your takoyaki.
still, whatever his reasons for doing this may be, this is a rare opportunity to come by, and that means that maybe rayne doesn't have to continue being a stranger. maybe you can get under those layers and find that good guy finn said was there.
"i never knew marchétte had a night market." you say, breaking the silence as the two of you walk side by side through the market.
"i didn't either." rayne admits, poking his fork into one of the octopus balls, and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.
"what?" your face scrunches in disbelief. "then how'd you find out?"
"i asked finn as we were going down to the garage." your date shares nonchalantly.
you turn to look at rayne with the intent of questioning him further, but the sight of his cheeks bulging with food makes you burst out in a fit of giggles.
"what?" rayne asks, narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip to contain your laughter. your gaze falls on a mixture of crumbs and sauce that sits on the corner of his mouth, only causing you to smile wider.
"you got a little something there." you gesture at his lips. rayne fumbles for a moment, swiping his fingers around various sections of his mouth, somehow only cleaning half of the mess up.
you shake your head, still grinning up at him. he tenses when your thumb grazes the edges of his lips. you can feel his eyes staring deep into you, and you have to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.
"all done." you whisper, wiping the remainders on the napkin in your hand.
rayne doesn't say anything regarding what occurred, only urging you to follow him further down marchétte street.
you swear that you see the tips of his ears go red, and something about that makes you all fuzzy inside.
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as the night progresses, you and rayne abide your time by visiting stalls. well, it's more like you choose which ones interest you the most, and rayne follows behind. you comment on certain items that look nice; sometimes, you ask for your roommate's opinions to decide on whether something will be worth your money or not. to your surprise, rayne's advice is solid, and you end up listening to him.
at some point, you convinced him to buy a pair of absurdly looking mugs for the apartment. he fought you hard on it, saying that a mug shaped like a fish is extremely inconvenient, but in the end, you won with insistent begging.
when the two of you both got bored of the market, you decide to take rayne to one of your favorite spots in the city.
"the park? really?" rayne gives you a dead stare.
"hey, don't judge." you pout. "i love this place."
"why? no offense, but i don't think parks are all that special."
"i feel like i can take a step back here and just a catch a break from everything," you answer honestly. "sometimes, i sit down and watch people as they live their lives, and something about that is strangely comforting. it makes me want to keep going."
rayne doesn't follow up on your words, but you can tell that he's really considering them, and that brings a smile onto your face.
"plus, i feel like it's a good place for when you want to talk to someone." you grab onto your roommate's wrist. "come on let's go to the swings."
you practically drag rayne to the playground, which is completely deserted, but that's to be expected when it's already 10p.m. no parent would be dumb enough to bring their kid out this late.
you force rayne onto the the swing next to you, and all he does is sit there, unwilling to indulge himself in such a simple joy. annoyed with him, you hop off your own set, coming behind him.
"what are you doing?" rayne whips his head around as your hands plant themselves firmly on his back.
"oh live a little." you huff, mustering up enough strength to push him. the swing rocks forwards and comes back. even as rayne complains and threatens you, you continue to push him, watching as he goes higher and higher. he may be masking it, but you can tell that he's enjoying it.
you finally give up when your arms grow sore and a layer of sweat coats your face. slumping back into the swing beside rayne, you breathe heavily. "man, that was a workout."
"i told you to stop." your date reminds you, shooting you a look.
"you can be honest, rayne. i know you liked it."
"i did not."
"yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that." you wave him off, laughing.
for a minute, neither of you say anything. you're the one who said that the park is a place where you can talk openly with someone, yet there's not a single topic that you can think to bring up.
luckily, rayne swoops in to save it. "can i ask you something?" your half-blonde roommate asks, something more serious laced in his voice. it makes you swallow a lump in your throat. an anxious feeling creeps into your body.
"of course you can."
"why did you bother giving that guy a chance?"
it's easy to know exactly who he's referring to. you shrug. "he's nice and has good energy."
"but he had stood you up two times in the past though. clearly he isn't as nice as you make him out to be. you seriously can't be that dumb to have fallen for it three times."
that statement in itself should get you mad (even though he would be right), but there's something peculiar in what he said that had you ignoring the jab altogether. "how'd you know he stood me up twice before? i never told you that."
at that, rayne freezes, eyes blowing wide open. it's so obvious that he's trying to find an excuse right now, but you push further.
"who told you that, rayne?" you lean closer, watching as his ears turn beet red. you're not even angry with him. it's mostly curiosity making you push him. not to mention that seeing him in a flustered state is entertaining and quite cute.
"max did." your roommate finally admits albeit quietly.
you pull your head back. "max? as in max land? how the hell does he know?"
"your dates happened to be at the restaurant he works at."
"why would he bother telling you that though?" you wonder. "up until tonight, i don't think it concerned you."
"it did though." the half-blonde mumbles, thinking you wouldn't hear, but you do anyway.
"what?" you press.
"forget it." rayne shakes his head, growing irritated.
"no. fuck that.." you seethe, annoyed at his unwillingness to be honest with you. rayne bites his tongue to hold back. you see it. "don't act like this. just tell me, or i swear to god i'll text max right now-"
"it's because i knew that i could treat you better." the words rush out of rayne's mouth as he snaps his head toward you. the fire in his eyes die as he locks his gaze onto you. the harsh emotion written across his features softens. you can feel your own exasperation slipping away like that of a retreating ocean tide. he grimaces in regret, knowing that he didn't mean to let that slip out, but he did anyway. it's out in the open, and now you knew.
surely, you're hearing things wrong. perhaps you're misunderstanding what he just said. how could that be misinterpreted though? it's such a painfully straightforward statement, yet it still doesn't make any sense.
rayne sighs. it's like he can already hear your thoughts and your confusion. the least he can do is clear the air and dump everything onto you while he can. "i didn't expect to feel like this," he begins to explain. "when i moved in, i just assumed you'd be another person i wouldn't pay attention to. i'm sure you know how i am. i don't bother getting to know people, but a lot of people feel the need to force themselves into my life, and shit like that pisses me off. but you didn't do that. you introduced yourself, explained the ground rules of the apartment, and then left me alone."
"so... you like the fact that i leave you alone?" you tilt your head.
"shut up. let me finish."
"okay."
"but yeah, that's part of it. you keep your distance, but you still try to show that you care. you don't do anything groundbreaking. it's just that the small things you do for me got to me. it may sound dumb to you, but it meant a lot to me."
suddenly, you're hit like a train because you know exactly what rayne means. you recall all the times you ensured that there was dinner for him, the times you moved his laundry into the dryer when he forgot to do it himself, and the times you restocked his favorite snacks when they ran out. you hadn't realized that you did any of that. it just came naturally, no hidden meaning behind it.
"oh." you breathe out, blinking.
rayne nods, continuing. you're honestly floored over the fact that he still has more to say. "you don't notice it. at least, i don't think you do, but at some point, i tried doing the same for you. i started paying more attention to you and what you liked and how you liked things done. i did it mostly to pay back your kindness, but over time i continued just 'cause i liked seeing your smile."
you have to process that for a minute, piecing together how certain events lined up until it finally clicks into place. "s-so the island vase-"
"i replace the flowers because you like them fresh."
"the key holder?"
"you always forgot to bring your keys until i installed it."
"when you put on movies-"
"i check your letterboxd and hope that you'll sit and watch them with me."
"when i put on movies-"
"i sit with you because i want to be near you."
your jaw falls open. never in a million years could you have expected this. you thought that rayne could care less about your existence, but the reality was that that was far from the truth. cold, aloof rayne was always doing things for you. all this time, you've been so oblivious.
still, there's more to the story so you stay quiet, letting him get his feelings off of his chest. "to be honest, i was never going to say anything. max tried convincing me to confess on multiple occasions, but i was dead set on letting it pass. i didn't think you liked me in the same way anyway.
"but then you came home today and you told me about your date and i just got so... angry," rayne clenches his fist around the chains of the swing. the whole situation infuriates him every time he thinks about it. "it just wasn't fair. you spent so much time into looking your best just for that asshole to go and waste your effort. you're so beautiful, so kind and understanding, and i fucking hate the fact that he's been taking advantage of that.
"i really wasn't thinking clear when i proposed this date to you, but god after tonight, i'd do it all over again. i wanted you to know what it's like to be with someone who does care about you. i wanted to see you smile. i wanted to hear stories. i want you so badly it's all i can think about sometimes.
"i know this is a lot, and i'm freaking you out right now. i'm sorry but you-"
"rayne." you interrupt with a big smile on your face. he was unaware to the fact that you had got up.
"for fucks sake, can you let me finish? this is already weird enough for me to talk about as is." he rolls his eyes, narrowing his gaze at you, blush splashed across his cheeks. still, without any resistance, you pull him up from his swing by his wrists.
"then don't." you whisper as you pull him in.
and the moment you crash your lips onto rayne's, the world stops. he instantly melts into you, the palms of his hands finding the soft skin on your cheeks. your hands tangle themselves into his hair. his lips are incredibly soft. a faint taste of matcha and sugar syrup dances on his tongue from the boba he drank earlier. a noise of approval vibrates down his throat, and you can't help but smile against his lips.
rayne wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss. you get what he was talking about earlier. this kiss is all it takes to prove it to you. you feel his affection and desire all at once. every single bone in your body is so aware of how much rayne ames cares about you.
when you finally pull away for air, it's like a smile is permanently tugged onto your lips. rayne trains his eyes onto you, engraining every detail of this moment into his head.
a comfortable silence falls as each of you take your time to catch your breaths. your stare finds its way up, admiring the night sky. there are barely any stars out tonight. no, that part isn't remotely true, not fully anyway, because light pollution drowns out stars and their lights. the reality is that there are billions of stars hanging high out of reach; they just go unseen.
rayne is kinda like that you realize. finn was right. his brother is a good guy. there's a hidden light within him behind all those aloof layers of his. you just have to squint and maybe put on some prescription glasses is order to see it. it's a shame it took you five months to to really acknowledge it. but now that you've finally found a glimpse of it, you'll continue to clear past the fog. you want to know every part of rayne and see his light just as he did with you. you want him to be able to shine at his full brightness with no fear. you'll take rayne ames for all that he is.
"come on," you coo, a lovestruck look in your eyes as you slip your hand into rayne's. "let's go home."
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bonus:
rayne: finn, give me a date spot quick finn: are you actually going on a date? rayne: stop asking questions finn: there's a night market on marchétte street. finn: are you seriously going on a date though? finn: hello? finn: rayne. finn: stop leaving me on read. finn: is it (y/n)? finn: it is her, huh? finn: asshole.
delisaster: hey sorry delisaster: can we reschedule for next saturday? y/n: kys y/n: lol sorry that was my bf delisaster: bruh what? delisaster: did you have a bf this whole time? *this message could not be sent* delisaster: did you fucking block me? *this message could not be sent*
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russellsppttemplates · 3 months
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helloooo! i have an idea for an imagine
what if charles & y/n where childhood friends and they always pretended to be married as kids (yk those games 😭😂) and then in the future they DO get married and one of their family members brings it up at the wedding and it's very funny but cute!
cw: mentions Charles' father
"We actually have a surprise for you", you mother said as she and Pascale looked at eachother before the guy in charge of the projector on the wall started playing a video. It was old, slightly grainy and you were not sure of what it was until it showed you and Charles.
"Why do we have to film it again, Y/N?", you heard your mother's voice as she focused the camera on you. You were wearing a pink dress and had some flowers on your hand, "Because me and Charles need to have this recorded for when we are older!", you smiled, "and what are you doing?", Charles' father's voice was heard, "we're getting married! Because Pascale and Hervé love eachother and they got married, mama and papa got married because they love eachother, so we are getting married, too!", you beamed.
Charles stood in the middle of the living room, Lorenzo taking the spot on his side as you walked closer to Charles. While Lorenzo was older than both of you, he went along, saying something about true love and how you were meant to be together. "Charles, do you have any vows?", he asked. "What are vows?", he asked, "it's like a promise you make to Y/N", he whispered back.
"Y/N", he began said confidently, "I promise to always love you, to show you all the beautiful things in life and to never leave you. Oh, and also to always share my food with you", he smiled.
"Charles", you followed, "I want you to know that you're the boy I love mostest in the world, and I'll always be by your side no matter what", you smiled, holding your hands in his.
"You can now kiss the bride!", Lorenzo announced as a shy six year old Charles kissed your cheeky sweetly before you hugged him, both of you smiling to the camera, "we're married!", Charles yelled, "Oh, we need to tell Pierre!", you chirped in.
"Oh my goodness!", Charles laughed while you wiped tears of laughter from your eyes, joining your guests as they commented how sweet it all was.
"I love how, as soon as we got married, you just wanted to tell Pierre", Francisca pointed out, napkin in her hand as she carefully wiped around your eyes, not wanting to ruin her makeup, "he was Charles' best friend and he wasn't there, I think I was being very considerate of him, actually", you stated, "and I was still a little bit jealous that Charles had another best friend at this age, probably just wanted to flash him that I loved Charles the mostest".
"Well, they were good promises, and I intend to keep those, too", Charles said, holding your hand in his once again, kissing your knuckles.
"We don't have it in recording, but Charles made my late husband, who I know would love to be here and knew this day would happen, get them a chocolate cake so they could have a honeymoon! Don't worry, it was an age appropriate trip to the slides at the park!", Pascale chuckled. Pierre saw an opportunity and he took it, "hopefully your honeymoon this time around also has very exciting slides and other fun things!", he toasted, sipping from his drink as you hid your blushed face in your husband's neck.
(Thank you for your submission ✨️)
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golden-cherry · 3 months
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deal - cl16 (24/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Furniture shopping is more exciting when there's talks about buying new stuff - like a bed.
Warnings: 18+ (mentions of smut), fluff, Kika is the bestest friend on this planet
Word Count: 3.4k
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A/N: hello loves! part twenty-four is here and I hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!!!
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The fact that Kika is just lying on your bed instead of snuggling up completely in your fluffy blanket is a miracle. 
"I liked the light blue mom jeans best," she says as you stand in front of the large mirror leaning against the wall next to the door to your room and look at yourself. "With the white oversized turtleneck - smash."
You look at her through the mirror. "Haha."
"I'm serious." She leans on her elbows and tilts her head. "If you wear white sneakers with it, it'll even work with the sandwich method. I've seen it on TikTok. And I swear to you - people will turn their heads to look at you."
"I don't want people turning their heads at me," you confess quietly, adjusting the soft fabric of your top. "I just want to look halfway okay."
"Trust me. You look more than okay."
After Kika and Pierre have stormed your apartment with their spare key - which at first annoyed you, but in the next moment made you feel quite relieved - your girlfriend has taken it upon herself to unpack your suitcase and pick out an outfit for you that matches your trip to the furniture store.
Unpacking your suitcase simply consisted of pulling out one item at a time and tossing it aside if it didn't meet her expectations. The pile of clothes next to the bed is the result of her search.
" Let it go," she warns you as you adjust the position of the hem of the sweater on your shoulder. "You look good. When I think about my first outfit as Pierre's girlfriend - it was pure horror."
"But I'm not a girlfriend," you reply as you reach for the jeans Kika is holding out to you. "I'm his friend. His roommate. Nothing more," you exhale, "and nothing less."
The Portugese woman watches you slip into your pants. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Caught off guard, you look at her. Are your feelings for the Monegasque so obvious that she can even see it on your face? Is your affection written all over your forehead? You can't name your emotional state, you can't say a word that could even begin to describe what you feel for Charles - but there's no question that it's definitely something other than pure friendship. 
No matter how often and vehemently you try to convince yourself that Charles is your friend, you are an incredibly bad liar. 
"I remember being incredibly nervous the first time we went out in public. I think I changed outfits three or four times before I was halfway happy."
Oh.
You sit down on the edge of the bed with her. "I want all of this. I want him." You clear your throat as Kika gives you a meaningful look. "His friendship, that is. And I'm also willing to take the risk of people not liking me and talking badly about me." You clasp your hands in your lap.
Kika sits up straight. "But?"
You curl your lips into a thin line. "I - I don't know." How do you explain to her that you're worried that his fans could dislike you so much that they doubt Charles? You're going public as friends, something that bothers you a little more than it should. But the Monegasque has also said that people will think what they want. 
What if they hate you so much - your looks, your mediocrity, your being - that Charles catches on and he realizes they're right in their opinion?
"I just want to make a good impression."
Your friend reaches for your hand. "You will. And after all, you're just friends. The public's opinion isn't all that important." You don't see her look, which says so much more than what she actually says.
"Right."
Kika lets go of your hand and stands up from the bed. "I'll be with you the whole time. We'll work it out. I promise." She tosses her long hair over her shoulder. "So, let's get going. This room is pretty bleak and could use some color," she says before pulling you off the bed and out of the room.
As you slip into your shoes at the front door, the men join you.
"So, Pierre and I are sitting -" Charles begins, but suddenly stops when he sees you. His eyes wander over your body and goose bumps spread along their path. He remains silent until Pierre nudges him. "Uhm, sorry. Yes. We - um - we're both going to sit in the front of the car because -" He scratches the back of his neck nervously, but can't take his eyes off you. "The plan is for Kika and you to go through the furniture store together and Pierre is coming with me. Just so that we are seen together as little as possible, but are still out and about together," he explains. 
You understand why this is all going to happen. He wants to protect you and you want to let him, but you can't stop your heart from getting a little bruised. 
When Kika notices your offended look, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "So much planning for simple shopping with friends? Is that really necessary?"
As you look up from your shoes, you look straight into Charles' beautiful green eyes. Something that looks exactly like how you feel flickers across his face. "It is." He stands up straight. "Shall we?"
Kika smiles gently at you. "Let's liven this place up a bit, then." She grabs Pierre's hand and together the two of them walk out of the apartment towards the elevator, while Charles and you stay behind. You both look after them. 
"Is everything all right?" asks the Monegasque and stands next to you. 
"Everything's fine," you answer him curtly. You don't dare look at him. 
"Y/N," he says as he gently grasps your wrist and turns you towards him. "Mon amour, you know why I'm doing this, don't you?" His hand slips a little lower so your fingers can intertwine.
"'Mh-hmm." 
"Hey." His other hand rests gently against your cheek, making you look at him. "Hey." His thumb gently strokes your cheekbone. "I'm trying to protect you. That's my priority. Making sure you're okay is my priority. And if that means we can't walk through any stores next to each other for now, just so the public can get used to you, then I'll put up with it." His gaze twitches briefly to your mouth. "Even if it's not what I want."
You nuzzle your face against his warm hand. "And what do you want?" you ask softly. 
"You." 
His answer makes the blood sizzle in your veins. It feels as if the warmth of his skin is burning through your face, as if the nerve endings under your skin are sending little electric shocks through your muscles and forcing your heart to stop. You take a deep breath.
"I want you near me." He squeezes your hand twice before pulling away. Your skin feels cooler without his touch. "But I'm responsible for what happens in public. And I don't want to risk anything happening to you because of me."
You nod weakly before wordlessly following the befriended couple. You hear Charles behind you, but you don't wait for him as you walk quickly to the others. The atmosphere in the elevator is tense as you are transported towards the underground garage, but no one tries to ease the tension. Kika and Pierre look at each other a little uncertainly, something that doesn't escape your gaze, and you can't blame them. The situation is just awful.
Pierre has thought far ahead, because when he presses a button on his car key, a large SUV opens up in the underground parking garage, sure to fit some decorative items. Charles' Ferrari, or God forbid your old Renault, might have been able to fit a picture frame, or at most a small mirror. 
You sit behind Charles, who has taken a seat in the passenger seat. Kika and Pierre are talking through the rear-view mirror while you look out of the window.
The longer you think about what Charles said - or didn't say - the more uncomfortable you feel. The hem of the sweater seems to have slipped, the collar feels too tight and the sleeves are scratching your elbows. You're not sure what you were hoping for, what the right answer would have been. But you're not particularly happy with the one you got. 
You also want to be close to him, permanently. And you can also understand why the plan involves you staying away from each other inside the furniture store. But is that really necessary if you're just friends? Has he done something similar with his other female friends, or are you the only one who has to put up with this fuss? 
Your thoughts are going round and round in your head, but as if by magic they suddenly come to a standstill. But it's not magic, it's Charles' hand that has squeezed past his seat on the right and is now gripping your leg. You feel his fingers slide under the fabric of your jeans, where they rest against your calf. 
You try to regulate your breathing, but you can hear the blood pounding in your ears. Charles touching you is nothing new. You've been touching each other non-stop since last night, which doesn't help your feelings or your friendship, but it still feels indescribably good. 
It feels right the way his calloused hand wraps around your soft calf. It felt right the way his thumb stroked your cheek. It felt right to lie half-naked next to him in bed. 
It felt right to want him as something more. More than a roommate. More than a friend. 
And that's exactly why you slide your foot towards the car door, so that Charles can touch you more easily. You block out the voice that keeps whispering hypocrite to you as best you can. And the warmer his skin feels on yours, the tighter his fingers close around your calf, the better it works. 
"I'll let you both out right at the entrance and we'll park in the back of the parking lot," Pierre interrupts your thoughts before they're no longer PG. "You can go inside and we'll follow. That's the easiest way."
"Thank you very much," Charles says. "I'm sorry we're shamelessly taking advantage of you."
Pierre has to grin. "You're welcome to give me a position in Bahrain, then we'd be even."
"You'd have to get close to me on the track first."
The two men argue amicably until the car comes to a halt in front of the deserted entrance. Just as you are about to open the door, Charles's fingers gently squeeze your leg twice and you have to suppress a smile, otherwise Kika would tease you endlessly. As you both get out and the car drives away, she latches on to you. 
"Are you ready?" she asks as you walk towards the glass door together. 
"Definitely."
Kika has very good taste in decorating and if she hadn't become a model, she could definitely have worked at Ikea putting together those fake rooms. As you push a shopping cart in front of you, she skips through the aisles, grabbing anything that matches in color or style. Picture frames, vases, mirrors and fake plants that would look good on the windowsill in your room. 
She's examining which of the candles in front of her would go better with the vases in the shopping cart when your cell phone vibrates in your pocket. 
Charles: If one of the candles burns down our apartment, I'll have to charge you rent. 
Confused, you read the message before looking up and around. Charles is standing about twenty meters away from you, smiling at you over the shelves. You bite the inside of your cheek.
You: You don't need my money, Mr. Ferrari. After all, you make millions a year. 
You raise an eyebrow challengingly as Charles reads your message. You can see his grin clearly, even from this distance. 
Charles: If you burn down my expensive apartment, I'll have to find a new one, and they're not exactly cheap in Monaco, as you know. 
You: I thought it was our apartment?
Charles: If you let it burn down, you're welcome to keep it.
You: So you'd let me keep it? Our apartment?
Charles: I'd give you anything, mon amour. You just have to ask for it. 
You don't have time to think about his answer because Kika throws a stuffed animal dinosaur in your face. 
"Are you done flirting?" she asks, playing annoyed. "I'm trying to decorate your room and you'd rather flirt than help me."
You feel the blood rush to your face. "Excuse me?"
Her grin almost reaches your ears. "Gotcha."
"You can't possibly have caught me doing something I wasn't doing," you try to wriggle out of it, but Kika has bitten down like a little terrier.
"And why are you looking like you've eaten the last spoonful of tiramisu without asking if anyone else wants the rest?" 
"I haven't eaten any tiramisu," you defend yourself and hug the green stuffed animal tightly to your chest. 
"Not yet," she says gently and puts one of the candles in the cart with the rest. "But I'm afraid you could get diabetic if you're not careful with the tiramisu. A small piece is fine, but a double portion could almost be too much." 
You narrow your eyes. "I haven't eaten any tiramisu." Without taking your eyes off her, you put the green dino in the shopping cart too. "And I don't intend to."
"You're a bad liar," she says and stands next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around you. "But that's all right. I still love you. And when your room looks really cool soon, I'll take the outfit pictures for my Instagram in front of your mirror."
She gives you a peck on the cheek and you roll your eyes. "Charles was right. We need to change the locks, then you can't disturb us anymore."
"Disturb? Disturbing what? Eating tiramisu?" she grins and you would have loved to suffocate her with the green dino. Apparently Kika can read minds, because she quickly lets go of your arms and continues to skip happily through the corridors while you follow her with the shopping cart. 
"How much do you think the things you picked out for me cost?" you ask her as she picks out more plants.
She takes a look at the shopping cart. "Something between two hundred and five hundred euros," she replies with a shrug.
"Kika, that's too much. Way too much," you try to stop her as she walks over to the rugs on display. "I can't pay for it. I'm unemployed, remember?" You're about to turn the shopping cart around and return the selected items to their rightful places, but Kika stands in your way. 
"Charles offered to pay for this," she says, confused, resting her perfectly manicured hands on the metal grille of the cart. 
"He what?" you ask, looking around in the hope of spotting Charles somewhere. But he's nowhere to be seen.
"Pierre sent me a text message to leave the car at the checkouts when we're done. He said that Charles wanted to pay for it and that we should wait outside for them," she explains, tilting her head. "I thought he would have told you. I know you're unemployed, but because of the text message, I thought that - I assumed we could just pick out nice items without looking at the price."
You run your tongue over your teeth. "Give me a moment, please," you say briefly and leave her standing there with the shopping cart. 
You walk through every aisle, looking over every shelf in the hope of seeing Charles standing somewhere. And when, after ten minutes, you spot his brown curls in the furthest corner of the store, you don't care if the two of you are seen together. He's standing in front of a gray, hip-high box spring, with nice, dark bedding and comfortable-looking pillows placed on it. When you stop next to him, he doesn't look at you.
"I want to buy a new bed," he begins the conversation. "The one I have now is too low for me. What do you think of this one? I've tried it out. It's really comfortable and the perfect height for -" He falls silent before he can finish the sentence. 
"Kika says you want to pay for my things," you change the subject without answering his question. You don't take your eyes off the bed either. 
"That's correct."
"I don't want that," you say tersely. "I don't want you to pay for it."
"But I want to," he replies, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. "Think of it as a gift."
"As a gift?" You raise an eyebrow. "As a gift for what?"
"For your friendship."
"You can have my friendship without buying me new things," you assure him, but you fall on deaf ears. 
"But I want to. I have so much money that I can't spend on my own, so I want to buy you nice things." He leans a little towards you so that your hands touch. "How expensive are the things? One thousand, two thousand euros?"
"Kika says five hundred at most."
"Then think of it as a small, early Christmas present," he says gently. Before you can object, he continues. "I want you to feel comfortable and if it costs me some money, then so be it. And it won't hurt my bank account in the slightest. So just say thank you and accept the gift."
"Thank you," you whisper reluctantly, but you know that it wouldn't do any good to go against his wishes. "Did you find something you want to buy?"
He smiles. "This bed, apparently. And bedding. And a mirror."
"Doesn't sound bad. I just hope you have as good a taste as Kika. After all, our things have to match," you joke.
Charles turns his head in your direction. "Then lie down on the bed, mon amour. I'd like to see how you look on it before I spend thousands of euros on it." As he says it and his fingers curl around your wrist, that feeling blossoms in your chest again.
You want to throw him on the bed in front of you, kiss him until you can't breathe and touch him until you can see stars. You want to feel his warm skin under your fingertips, feel his muscles tense as he pulls you on top of him and presses you against his firm body. You want to feel his weight on you as he lays you down on the bed and his lips trail down from your mouth. You want to - 
"Do you really think I'm going to try sleeping without you again when we've figured out that we both sleep better when we're together?" he asks, gently stroking the thin skin on your wrist with his thumb. You hope he can't feel your racing pulse underneath. "When we first met, you said that you hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time. And if it means I have to hold you in my arms so you can get a good night's sleep, then so be it. And it's not as if I don't enjoy having you close to me."
Before you can answer him, you feel a person standing at your other side and when you look, Kika is standing there. Her gaze flickers briefly to your hands before she turns to the bed as well. "Do any of you fancy a bite to eat?" she asks. "There's a restaurant nearby that serves incredibly good tiramisu. And it's never busy. We can go there if you like." She turns slightly in your direction and nudges you. "What about you? Do you want some tiramisu?"
More like a need than a want.
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justaholeinmysoul · 1 year
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Sometimes I read stuff on here and I wanna murder people then I remember some other people left and now they're married and doctors and outside thriving and if you'll tell them about destiel or how wrong is to say latino they'd be like ????!!!??? and I'm like....ok none of this matters i pass
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mommypieck · 7 months
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𑄽୧ age gap with nanami 𔓘 ᰍ
kinktober day 5: my daddy!!!
✯⁠ nanami kento x reader
✯⁠ warnings: brief dubcon, crying, spanking, doggy, rough sex, p in v
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"Are you there, Mr. Kento?" you yell from the door, entering it without even waiting for a response. He sits there at his desk, clearly not paying attention to you. he turns his head when he sees you walk in.
"What's up, y/n ?" he asks as he turns his chair around to face you. Your cheeks turn red, and you say in the most innocent voice ever, "I've been craving you, Kento."
Nanami looks at you confused, he knows what college girls think about and stuff they do, but he never expected it from you. You walk up to him, throwing yourself on his lap.
"What are you doing, y/n ?" he asks you with a panicked voice, trying to push you off him. You stay seated in his lap, running your hands through his hair.
"I know you want it, Kento," you whisper in his ear, licking at his neck. he moans at the touch of your tongue, his head falling back. You can see how hard he tries to resist your touch, but he fails miserably.
"Y/n, if you don't stop right now. I'm gonna call the cops," he warns you, and the look he gives you makes you even wetter. He's so cute when he's trying to be intimidating. You climb off his lap, chuckling at yourself when he stays seated. You swing your hips in front of him, unbuttoning the oversized shirt you're wearing. You let it fall to the ground, revealing that you're not wearing anything underneath. His pupils widen at the sight in front of him. It's been so time since he had a naked woman next to him, let alone as beautiful as you. You bend over in front of him, and he has to invert his eyes, his pants getting too tight for his liking. He wants to call himself a coward for not backing out, but he can't move. The thing you said is true, he wants you.
"Do you like what you see?" you ask, and he finally looks at you. Nanami moans just at the sight. You're on the ground before him, ass in the air. Your talented fingers play with the wetness while you smirk at him. You're a slut, that's all you are. A dirty slut who wants to get fucked by an older man, more specifically, her best friend's father.
"oh Kento, come fuck me." you moan dramatically as you get on your back, spreading your legs again. Your feet bump into his chest, and you kick him lightly, giggling. He knows he's about to snap if you don't stop right now. Your feet settle on his crotch, running up and down his hard-on.
"You're so hard for me-"
"That's it." he groans. You feel yourself getting dragged up by his strong arms before being thrown over his lap. You yelp when his hand comes down on your ass - hard. He spanks you over and over, not stopping no matter how hard you plead.
"Kento, stop please." you cry out, trying to crawl away from his lap. He doesn't listen instead he brings his hand down on your ass harder.
"I can't believe my daughter is friends with a slut like you," he says, and you involuntary moan at the sentence.
"That's what I thought." he snorts, massaging your butt. He pushes you out of his lap, and you fall on the ground next to his feet.
"Bend over the table," he orders, and you do what he asks with wobbly knees. You try to stand, but your front falls against the table.
"That's what bad girls get," he says, standing behind you. You hear his zipper go down, and you salivate in anticipation. The head of his cock runs through your folds before he slides right in. You knew he was big but didn't think he would be this hard to take.
"What's that? Can't take me?" he laughs, slapping your ass again. Your cheek presses against the table, and your whole body hurts even though he isn't moving inside you. he thrusts in, and your eyes roll back. He's not sweet, he fucks you like you deserve it. It's true, he's too big for you to handle, but he also feels so good.
"Are you crying?" he asks you when he notices a wet spot on the table. You can't answer with your eyes clouded with tears and saliva falling from your mouth. He broke you. You feel yourself falling, and you're close to fainting, but this is what you asked for.
"get up, whore. I'm not done with you."
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