#and his opinion and approval as one of the few people who has watched over him for his life matters deeply

[mv1simp]

max taking advantage of innocent!best friend!reader … like a dynamic where he spoils her a lot and has made him look her think that all his strange behaviors/touches are normal

I’VE BEEN OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA FOR AGES THANK U FOR GIVING ME AN EXCUSE TO WRITE IT 🙏🙏🙏

Friends ♥️

Max Verstappen x Childhood Best Friend!Reader

And what the hell were we, tell me we weren’t just friends, this doesn’t make much sense, no

Max has been your closest friend since childhood, promising to always look after you. Sure, everyone gossips that you two are secretly dating, that it’s not normal for friends to be so close, so touchy - but Max blows it all off. So when you ask him for help when you want to get a boyfriend for the first time, it shouldn’t be a problem because Max doesn’t like you like that…right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, innocent virgin! Reader, manipulative dark best friend! Max, dubcon, size kink, dom/sub, somnophilia, recording, this is DARK 🥸 3.3k WC

You and Max had grown up close together, your families being good friends as your fathers had raced together back in the day. He had been shy and awkward when you met, age 5 and 6, but as soon as he had stepped in front of you in defence when you had been bullied in school the next day, you vowed to always be loyal to him. Your families approved the friendship, laughing and taking pictures when you two would play house - Max always being the husband doll to your wife doll, of course. You two did everything together - school, holidays, racing where you always came to support him bearing snacks and words of encouragement. So when he asked you at age 18 to move with him to Monaco you didn’t even hesitate to say yes - not imagining a life without your Maxie by your side.

Your move raised a few eyebrows from your family, who had been suprised that you hadn’t outgrown what they had thought was an innocent childhood crush. Your older sister had been especially worried at the thought of you alone in a new city with only Max there to support you. She noticed, sometimes, when he thought no one was watching - how his eyes would be watching you, in a way eerily similar to how a wolf watched a lamb he was about to devour whole. Althought it had taken a lot of pleading from your end to win her over, it had been easy enough to convince your parents to let you go, explaining you were enrolling in Monaco University - being bankrolled by Max’s new generous F1 salary - and yes, promised that you were staying in your own separate apartment. And that had been the plan, but when you stood in the entrance to Max’s penthouse a few weeks later, dripping head to toe with sprinkler water because somehow your up to code apartment had a fire when you had been out, he had insisted you stay at his until you found a new place - just for a short while. A short while then turned into a long while which then turned into the lockdown and at the end of it all Max had said you just couldn’t leave, he was too used to having you there that coming home to an empty apartment would be too hard. And although you had worried, saying that as you both got older it might be strange that you now lived together and people would talk, Max shot down all your concerns, reassuring you with a warm hug and sweet kiss to your forehead that the only opinion that mattered was yours, and as long as you’re happy Schat, I don’t really care what anyone else thinks. You had blushed from the affection and that was the end of that discussion.

You’d always been quite sheltered, naive even - and going to a strict private school meant you hadn’t had any romantic or sexual experience whatsoever. Growing up, it was clear to the adults around you that you had always held a crush on Max, and althought the older boy would always look out for you, he didn’t reciprocate to the same way - at least that’s what they thought. They hadn’t noticed that when you two had been gently separated one night when it had been deemed you were too old to sleep in the same bed anymore, Max had crept back and grabbed your hand as he lay next to you, mumbling he couldn’t sleep without you, liefje. No one noticed that this habit continued well into your teens, when Max would climb in through your bedroom window - initially making you freak out but soon reassured by Max’s words that your parents were just too strict, you were just two best friends wanting to spend time together.

And the first time you woke up one morning to feel something thick and hard pressing into you from the back, scaring you a bit, Max had gently rubbed your shoulder from the back while telling you it was okay, it’s just something that happens sometimes when a guy sleeps next to a pretty girl, you had blushed and accepted the compliment. And no one knew that behind closed doors your chaste goodbye kisses to Max’s cheek began turning into loving kisses on the lips when he had tilted your head up, saying he was going to miss you so much when he went on his first F1 race and he deserves a goodbye kiss for good luck from you, didn’t he?

And of course you would always give Max whatever he asked for since he was your best friend, your protector, the person you loved the most in the world. He’d pay for you, drive you everywhere, cheer you up when you were down, make you laugh, patiently take you shopping and rate every outfit you tried on, fight anyone who dared to give you a hard time - and the rest of the paddock had definitely noticed the lingering attentions of the Redbull driver to his childhood friend. Daniel and Lando constantly gave him shit for it, saying he needed to grow a pair and just confess instead of making puppy eyes at his “best friend”. Max always just rolled his eyes at their gossiping ways.

But it was hard to deny their claims when Max would pull you in to sit on his lap at a games night making everyone smirk at you, or when you would emerge from his hotel room the next morning since you two still shared a bed everytime you went away - it’s just like a sleepover when we were little, scatje, nothing wrong with it - or when at fancy award ceremonies or galas Max would be photographed in his tux, a vogue model at his side as his latest girlfriend - and you on his other side, wearing a luxury dress he’d brought for you. The paparazzi would eat up the dirty looks Max’s flings would always be shooting you, knowing they always came second to his best friend.

The thing was, even when sometimes doubt would flicker in your mind that things were too intimate, too romantic, between you and Maxie - you couldn’t bring yourself to want to draw back. You’d always secretly had such a crush on the older boy growing up, but since he had never directly reciprocated and was now a big world champion with women around every corner in Monaco after him, you’d learnt to accept your feelings were unrequited and you needed to stop reading so much into Max’s pure intentions to look after you. After all, that’s what best friends did, right?

And oh, did Max look after you. It seemed every week he’d level up more and more. Matching jewellery and heels to go with the designer dresses, and lately you had come home to find matching lingerie in Max’s favourite colour, dark blue. You had blushed furiously, feeling an indescribable icky pit in your stomach and remembering your sister’s warnings - Max goes too far, he pushes the boundaries of a normal friendship - but Max put all your worries to ease over the homecooked dinner you made him that night, explaining that the latest dress just happened to come with matching accessories and he wanted to make sure that you felt beautiful in all the layers you wore and it was normal to give your best friends gift, no? But he could return it if you’d prefer… prompting you to hastily accept his intimate gift, reassuring him that it was so thoughtful and you were so grateful. He’d looked so pleased with your response that when he ordered more and more sets, each one getting just a touch more lacier and risqué, you just thanked him for each one. And when he asked you how you found your gift, could he have a look at it, please schatje, I always help you pick your prettiest outfits right? You had nodded in agreement, blushing but shyly pulling his hoodie off your torso to expose the outrageously expensive La Perla black lace set you wore, accentuating your plump ass and pushing your tits up for him to hungrily look at. Max’s gaze had lingered there for a long time, his gaze turning dark and you had felt that same uncomfortable pit begin to settle in your stomach again when he saw the look on your face and patted your soft, chubby waist in reassurance, saying don’t be embarrased, schat, we always grew up seeing each other like this, right? Remember that photo of us swimming in that pool in Ibiza? Completely naked? Besides, you’ve seen me shirtless so many times, this is the same as that. That was true, you accepted dreamily, and not thinking anything of it when Max started asking you to send photos of you modelling the cute sets he’d get delivered to you when he was away. You happily snapped away mirror selfies, in all the different angles he wanted to see you from, even strange ones you weren’t quite sure about like bend over and stick your hips right up in the air, hmm schat?

He’d kiss you goodbye now all the time, saying you were his cute little good luck charm, with the expectation that you’d open your lips wide for him, letting him shove his tongue into your mouth and explore it to his hearts content. Gotta have a better kiss to get better luck. It felt so nice and made you feel all tingly between your legs so you would never turn it down. And since Max was away more and more with his racing schedule, often he would come home and fall asleep straight in your bed, saying he had missed being away from you so much. You had thought it was so sweet, no one else but you got to see Maxie like that, you were the only one he depended on. So you easily wrapped yourself up in his embrace, just like when you two had been little - except this time Max would say you’re so tense, schat, let me help you relax a bit, my physio knows this great muscle relaxation technique-

And it felt soo nice when he rubbed your sensitive little body up and down, you had no complaints, not even when some nights he would travel much, much lower down your plush little tummy than he had before. You just obediently parted your legs for him when he commanded in his deep voice, running his thick finger up your slit through your wet lace panties. And sometimes you’d wake up to feel that very familiar hardness of his behind you, soo warm now as he took himself out of his sweatpants and let his cock rest against you. Feels all tense, sweetheart, cause you kept rubbing against it last night and I didn’t get any sleep he would sigh.

You’d feel terrible, apologising profusely for interrupting his precious sleep when he trained so much, asking how you could make it up to him when Max had said just gonna let it relax out onto you, yeah? Don’t worry, you can even go back to bed, baby. You’d nodded sleepily, so grateful that Maxie was so sweet he always put your sleep first, even when his had been deprived.

He’d waited before you were comfortably nuzzled back against him, breaths turning deeper as sleep overtook you before slowly lifting your damp panties out of the way, and sliding his leaking tip just along the entrance to your innocent hole, making you moan, half asleep cause it felt soo good, and you felt so guilty that you felt so much pleasure while Max had just become frustrated overnight. With your eyes screwed shut you’d never notice the dark lustful look in his eyes, the evil smirk on his face as he had his way with you, letting him getting away with practically murder if it was for the sake of your friendship. You let him continue gliding his cock along your puffy folds, his tip repeatedly stimulating your sensitive clit, his large hands coming up to fondle at your boobs that has somehow slipped out of your camisole and gently flick your nipples before he tensed, holding you tightly against him as his breaths quickened. You has felt something warm and wet leaking out from the sides of your panties. You looked down, dazed, but Max shushed you back asleep, lulling you into his arms again. And when you woke up next you always had a clean pair of fresh panties on, camisole tucked back down over your thick hips, Max no where in sight.

As you grew up, your sexual curiosity eventually began to peak. When all of your friends in uni had gotten boyfriends and giggled to you about how good sex felt, you had gotten curious too. of course, you would never bring it up with Max even though you two talked about everything - because you should only be talking about sex with your future boyfriend, right? But one day when you had come home early from class you had heard lewd noises coming from Max’s bedroom. So lewd that you had been unable to stop yourself from peeking through a slight gap. The sight of Max thrusting himself into his latest girlfriend, her face pushed down into the mattress as he drilled into her from the back made you blush furiously. You’d stood there for a little while, your panties getting damp at the sight of sweat dripping down Max’s abs before you had caught yourself and scurried away, so guilty about violating Max’s privacy like that. You were such a creep, what was wrong with you?!

But that afternoon had also made you realize Maxie had so much more experience than you as you hadn’t been sure what a lot of the movement and positions you had seen that day were. And Max had said you could always ask him for help with anything, right? You couldn’t quite build up the courage to ask him - until your classmate asked you out one day, making you giddy with excitement but come crushing down when he had later found out on the date that you were a virgin, and had said maybe it was best for you to be with someone who was more on your level, that he didn’t feel comfortable being with someone so inexperienced for a casual fling. You’d come home sobbing, running straight into Max’s arms in your cute little dress and strappy heels, crying Maxie, he was so mean, you’d never believe what he said-

Max had been furious when you told him the story. He was so, so angry - not only at your classmate, but at you, for going on this date and not telling him, the way you would always tell Max about everything you did in your day. How could you be so careless, so slutty to go out with a guy like that? Max demanded, making your eyes widen and cry harder. It’s those new girlfriends of yours, aren’t they, they’re such fucking whores.

You’d never seen him so angry before, not even when he had a DNF at a race weekend. He’d only seems to calm down when you had looked up at him with innocent eyes, pleading Maxie, please, will you teach me how to be a good girlfriend, I don’t want to be so inexperienced anymore.

He’d sighed and run his hands through your hair, wiping away the tears that had made mascara drip down your cheeks. Of course, schat. I’ll show you exactly how to be a good little girlfriend. But promise me that you won’t talk to another guy without my permission first, okay? I have to protect you and make sure that you’re trained enough to have a boyfriend.

It was so, so sweet of Max to take time out of his busy schedule to help your embarrassing problem, you thought dreamily. You never noticed that your classmate never turned up to class again, but did have to go to hospital that week for a new black eye and bruised ribs.

Meanwhile, Max first started your “lessons” by showing you how to pump him from soft to a raging erection, guiding your hands into his sweatpants and moving your hands up and down, after you spit cutely into your palms to ease the glide. You didn’t notice the smirk on his face as he watched your struggle to jack off his entire sizeable length with your tiny palms.

Then he’d shown you how to use your mouth to make him feel good. You’d sat on your ass for hours in between his legs as he absentmindedly played his game, drawing kitten licks up his shaft before he’d taken over and told you to relax that tight throat of yours, baby, as he shoved his cock inside your mouth. He’d jackhammered away happily without any regard for the tears that emerged from your eyes. You had coughed, spluttered, throat raw for days as Max made you practise on the daily, tutting at you in mock disappointment when your gag reflux got in the way and you stopped halfway down his length. He’d pulled you up to sit on his lap, his hard cock wedged in between your plush thighs, as he put a dirty video onto the TV - petite ebony deepthroats massive white cock like a pro.

You had blushed and stuttered at the obscene video, looking away at one point but Max had forced your head back to look at the scene, saying don’t miss this bit, schat, look how she doesn’t forget about his balls, yeah?

You’d watched video after dirty video until you had perfected your blowjob technique exactly to Max’s likings. You look up obediently at him as he points his phone at you, flash on and all, recording your performance for reference, of course scatje, we need to track your progress, right? as you sloppily took his hard cock into your eager mouth, all the way to the base, gag reflux well and truly trained out of you from his daily discipline.

You’d woken up the next morning to find Max’s blonde curls between your legs, his tongue sweetly licking at your most innocent parts and you had squealed in shock, Maxie what are you doing ohmygod- but he quickly thrust his fingers into your drooling mouth to shut you up, just progressing to the next level, sweetheart, you need to learn to cum whenever I ask you too.

You’d squeaked and whined as his tongue didn’t stop flicking your clit, his fingers now joining in abusing your poor little virgin cunny until you begged him to pull away, Maxie please I feel funny, I think I’m going to pee- Ahhh!!! You’d ended up squirting all over his fingers and tongue, immediately passing out from exhaustion at the sheer intensity and missing the dark, pleased grin on Max’s face as he licked up your juices from his fingers. God, it was almost too easy to brainwash you into his perfect little pet. Soon he’d having you asking him to claim your virginity, he just knew it. And he would not hesitate, taking what had always belonged him anyways. He’d have made you his housewife a long time ago if your goddamn sister hadn’t kept cockblocking him.

Never mind that. Even she wouldn’t be able to withhold her blessing when you’d turn up at the next family gathering, glowing and expecting his child, he thought darkly. Smirking to himself, Max unbuttoned his pants, freeing his hard cock. In fact, why wait to feed you some bullshit excuse about how no baby, virgins can’t get pregnant the first time or no, I can’t use a condom, schat, it’s bad for you to have something unnatural inside you.

He might as well start now and give you a thick creampie as your present to wake up to later ♥️ After all, you’d take it like the good girl you always were for him.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Chile anywaysssss don’t mind me and my depraved thoughts. Gotta go drink some holy water fr. Lmk what you guys thought! Feel free to request more x

[meenawrites]

Actually so true. I love Park Jin as a character and I think he’s very entertaining. He’s a good leader but that doesn’t always translate to actually being a good support or emotional confidant. He’s very much always operating in the Bigger Picture, which leads him to disregard people’s actual feelings because they don’t serve that Bigger Picture. Uk’s especially because he was in love with someone who had committed a grave sin by the law of alchemy.

thinking about alchemy of souls again because of course, and man, Park Jin really told a 19 year old suffocating in grief—who also just died??—that he should never have been born and was therefore responsible for every single thing that went wrong in the country, especially the miserable life and death of the woman he mourns and loves more than his own soul.

And then he wonders why Uk is so lifeless and unable to move on...

[deathmetalunicorn1]

I'd like a part 2 for Eri!Reader in Hazbin Hotel? I'd like to see Lucifer get into an argument with Alastor over who gets Eri!Reader for the weekend.

Razzle and Dazzle are definitely the number one choice for Reader's babysitters. Azmodeus and Fizz are the official godparents while Stolas is the wine aunt.

Meanwhile, I wonder if Heaven is panicking that they are missing an angel.

Wait, was Reader under Emily and Sera's care? How would they react if they knew that the same Hotel that Adam tried to destroy was in fact protecting Eri!Reader?

How would Adam react? Is Eri!Reader afraid of Adam?

-Heaven was in a panic, tearing up every nook and cranny, calling out your name after you wound up missing while being watched by Adam.

-Sera and Emily were your guardians, but they had asked Adam to watch you so they could attend a meeting, and he had no issues doing it, but he quickly lost interest, telling you to just stay put on a couch and went off to do his own thing.

-In that time when he wasn’t watching you, you somehow ended up in Hell where Charlie found you and took you in after you had been attacked, your wings being taken.

-Sera was beside herself with fury, dragging Adam into her office, kicking all others out, and has been going strong for what felt like days, leaving Emily to head the search for you.

-Sera’s rage only grew more when they found that you were in Hell, safe with the princess of hell, Lucifer’s daughter Charlie, but she was furious that Adam not only knew where you were, but he had tried to destroy the hotel, knowing full well that you were there!!

-Sera was angry enough to consider banishing Adam to hell, as she believed he would fit right in!

-Down in Hell, you were watching a different fight, watching Lucier and Alastor fighting over you, Lucifer wanted to spend time with both you and Charlie, as he knew that you were an angel, but not a fallen angel as your wings were stolen.

-Alastor was trying to deny Lucifer of this, wanting to keep you at the hotel, where you were safe, not wanting to risk the chance of you getting taken away, which Lucifer didn’t take kindly to, seeing that Alastor was looking down on him.

-You were sitting with Razzle and Dazzle, who in the opinion of many, were the best choices to watch you, besides Charlie. There were a few others, like Fizz and Asmodeus, who had been dubbed your fairy godparents. They were just godparents, but you only knew of fairy godparents from the stories Emily would read, and they wore those titles proudly.

-Stolas was also higher up on the list of approved babysitters, given his talents with children from raising his daughter, but he always drank the bitter juice you didn’t like as he told you all sorts of stories.

-Lucifer didn’t want to lose you back to Heaven, when he returned home after Charlie but both him and Alastor in time out, he came back to a message from Sera, regarding you.

-Lucifer was calm when he spoke with Sera, who returned it, despite her inner rage, telling her that you were safe, but you had been attacked when you first arrived, your wings being taken, before Charlie found you.

-The line went quiet before he heard what sounded like multiple explosions and Sera going completely feral on what he could only assume was Adam before Emily came on the line, “Sera is going to be busy for a while. Thank you for finding Y/N- we’re glad that’s she is safe. It might be a good idea to keep her with you for the time being.”

-Lucifer just laughed, hearing how Adam was being punished, hanging up with Emily. If only they knew that he and all those down in hell who cared about you weren’t going to let you go back. They lost their chance when they trusted Adam of all people.

[mandatory-blog-stop-asking]

thinking about Emma Frost again. let's imagine for a second X-Men matters and my opinion must be shared.

When I was a kid I really respected and liked Professor X. I thought his stances on issues were calm and reasonable and I thought his efforts were, while ultimately fruitless, the best ones in the fictional conversation about inclusivity and race and all that. this is a subtle reference to the fact I only watched the cartoon and the movies as a kid.

When I grew older and learned English I started engaging with the comics and realized that oh, turns out the adaptations are superficial at best and fladerizing at worst, and there's a lot more to Charles than Being Correct. He's actually in fact a scathing critique of control and flawed leaders of good faith ideals, and how you're supposed to grow over those who created the words you use to free yourself from tyranny. Professor X is a jerk, Magneto was right, all that.

But over time I realized how much that erases Emma Frost, villain turned voice of reason extraordinaire.

Emma starts her tenure in X-Men as Claremont's personification of everything that is bad with high society, accosted by Sebastian Shaw, which is that but male. Emma is genuinely awful when Claremont writes her; a GOOD awful, on purpose, but she's not supposed to be relatable. She has her own mutant school, her own team of mutants, her own answer to Cerebro. She's the most genuine Evil Xavier we get for a full two decades. and she's great at it! Even if the hellfire club almost always truces with the X-Men for the sake of fighting a more important battle, there's no question that you're not supposed to root for Emma.

And then in the 90s something changes, Claremont goes away for a second, other people approach the character, and the question becomes, why are we treating her like evil Xavier? She's building community. She's giving a voice to the disenfranchised. She's training them and she's caring for them and at no point is she asking of them things they actively disagree with, which can't be said of Charles. And so starts the process most every X-Men villain goes through: humanization, complexity, redemption. And fuck does Emma redeem herself.

Ten years into not being a caricature of high class, Emma has accrued a tragic backstory, several positive projects in canon, renown as a genius, positive relationships to several characters, and a main team spot in a highly acclaimed, influential run as of New X-Men. A whole new generation of readers introduced to Emma, new powers, new MO, new everything. Other characters are changing drastically, usually backwards, to accompany the movie's success -- Magneto is evil again, Jean goes back to being the Phoenix, Charles is a lot more like Captain Picard. But Emma? Emma gets to keep going. She changes things wherever she goes.

She hooks up with Cyclops, her daughters become their new Cerebro, she becomes the new heavy-hitter, the Hellfire Club becomes more Shaw and Shinobi's deal than hers... obviously, this isn't consistent. She's got low points and moments that don't agree to her new character. But this woman, who started as commentary on how the rich will destroy you for fun, is now a key positive portion of the world because at some point in time, she had a point -- Charles *isn't* the end-all-be-all of the matter of teaching young mutants, Erik *isn't* the best way forward as far as mutant armadas go, there *is* nuance to their dualistic conversation, the dichotomy is only enforced because they're loud, but she can be louder, she can be louder than any of them--

And then Krakoa hits. Yes, there's a full ten years of bad X-Men stories, many of them including Emma, at least one of them including Emma genociding a few Inhumans. But then Krakoa hits, and every character gets a new project.

Cyclops? Seeing the world move on in ways he might not approve of. Wolverine? Being happy, and realizing he means to fight to keep it going. Erik? Charles? Apocalypse?? Seeing how strong their "dreams" are when they compromise, and realizing oh, I am willing to do *anything* to keep this going, quite literally anything, there is no crime predicted by man or god that would be beyond my reach if it meant paradise would not be lost.

Emma? Emma keeps doing what she's been doing from the word go. Keep it fabulous. Keep the children safe. Don't fall for the lies. At some point someone will invade your privacy and try to take everything away from you. Your job is not to simply destroy them. Your job is to showcase to them how this too was accounted for.

Emma, alongside her planning, her alliances, her leading of the resistance, her unfathomable internal strength and her willingness to see the world for what it is, won the war for Krakoa. Charles wanted things to stay the way they were, Erik wanted things to be the way he dreamed they could be, Apocalypse wanted things to impress him.

Emma wanted them to be safe and sound. Emma wanted the children to be safe. And when Krakoa rose and left, now fully developed and having outgrown her as well, she picked herself back up and went to train a new generation.

There's always children to keep safe. There's always a new generation. The work is never finished.

Yes, the O5 have their own version of Xavier's dream fulfilled, but Emma is the only one who managed to keep herself genuine while evolving. In a room with religious zealots, war criminals, villains and ancients evils, Emma could always look at Kitty Pryde and think to herself, look at what we're doing, my friend. Look at what we have to work with. We're not saving them from themselves, we're saving everyone they're willing to sacrifice.

I wish those adaptations would make Emma Frost sound like she does to me. She's not just a third option to the Professor X-Magneto dichotomy. She's a person asking why is this a dichotomy in the first place. She's too busy actually caring about people to bother with the bickering.

For the children, they said when they wanted her to join their little utopia. For the children, she sighed back, realizing that if she didn't say it, quite literally no one else would.

[readyplayerhobi]

Knife's Edge | Epilogue

; Mafia!Jungkook x Reader, Jimin x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, mild angst

; Word Count: 3.6k

; Synopsis: The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an  unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

; A/N: Recent interest in this series again has inspired me to finally write an epilogue - it's just fluffy nonsense, honestly. But I hope you enjoy it either way! Thank you for all the love on this series!

Previous Chapter

-

Five Years Later

Humming quietly, you carefully take the baby foxglove out of its pot and place it into the hole you've dug. The dirt is soft and malleable - not too hard to dig, but not borderline mud, either. The plant looks tiny compared to some of the giants surrounding it, but you know this little one will grow taller than them all.

It might not be much now, but in a few months, it will be a few feet high and blossoming with delicate purple blossoms, the petals sighing down to the ground. Beautiful flowers that will hide a dark secret - foxgloves are as deadly as they are pretty.

That wasn't why you were planting it, though. You just thought they were pretty, the reason why you'd planted everything in the extensive garden of your home. The mansion Jungkook lived in, and now you, was huge and the gardens were equally so.

Neither of his parents had ever cared what the gardens looked like, so they'd just hired landscapers and gardeners to care for it. But when you'd married Jungkook and officially moved in, you'd asked if you could take over the garden beds. It was a new passion you'd discovered over the months leading up to your wedding - hours spent knelt in the dirt in between your classes and exams.

Unlike people, plants weren't judging. They didn't care what you'd done, or what you thought and they had no opinions of you. They just existed, and they were happy to get the attention.

It probably wasn't too healthy, but you'd used the plants as therapy. Hours upon hours had been spent with you whispering all your secrets to them, your hopes and dreams and fears and regrets being woven into their leaves as they grew. A real therapist would've been more helpful, but what kind of therapist would be able to help someone like you?

They'd have to be Clan approved, which in turn would mean you couldn't possibly tell them what you really thought. No one knew why Jungkook and you had suddenly had a rift so deep that he'd refused to see you for weeks. And everyone knew that something bad had happened - Jungkook was, and still is, infamous in the Clan for his weak spot for you.

Anything you told a therapist would be spread throughout the Clan like wildfire, the winds of gossip spreading the fires of rumour faster and higher than you could hope to outrun. The whole Clan would know that you'd cheated on Jungkook, that you'd betrayed him in the worst way a woman could in the Clan. On top of that, everyone would know that Jungkook had overlooked it - that he'd opted to forgive you for your transgression and love you still.

You'd be vilified for being unfaithful, and he'd lose all respect from the Clan he now ruled. 

No, you couldn't tell anyone what had happened. A secret you would take to your grave, with only 3 people aware of it outside of yourself. And none of them had any interest in it getting out.

Still, you hadn't wanted the ghost of unsaid anger and resentment haunting your relationship, so you'd done a lot of research into therapy. It’s not as good as going to an actual, qualified therapist, but it's better than nothing. Plus, you can only imagine the judgment if people find out Jungkook had been attending therapy - the backwards views of the Clan would have them screaming that he wasn't fit to lead if he was going to therapy of all things.

So you watched videos and you read things, until you had a basic understanding of how to navigate things. Jungkook and you talked things out instead of keeping secrets, you let him know if you were feeling lonely or sad and he let you know if he was feeling overwhelmed or unhappy. Some things you'd improvised yourself, all in the name of making sure you both communicated.

If there was an argument, then you would both write down why you were angry on a piece of paper and then let the other read it. Jungkook had thought this was silly at first, but getting out his stress and anger on paper instead of shouting it let him think through what he was annoyed over. Most of the time, you both discovered that you weren't angry at the other, but at something else and it had simply bubbled up.

Just last year, you'd both had an argument with you snapping at Jungkook for not taking his laundry upstairs. He'd snapped back, pointing out that he'd been busy all day and the laundry was the least of his worries. Cue a ten-minute argument before Jungkook grabbed a notepad, ripped out two pages and handed you a pen. The two of you had scribbled furiously, brows creased in concentration and jaws tight with frustration.

What had started with you being annoyed at him for not taking his laundry, after asking him many times, was revealed to be that you were feeling lonely in the big house on your own. He'd been busy, true, which meant he'd barely been home for a month and when he had been home, he'd been either asleep or locked in his office. Whilst you'd been able to graduate college and take a job as a teacher - much to the shock and horror of pretty much everyone in the Clan - it had summer vacation. You'd had no work to do during the time off.

As unhealthy as it was, he was still your only friend in the Clan - other women steered clear of you after the Incident - and you'd been desperately lonely and sad. You’d had casual friends - acquaintances from work and a few elderly folks from the gardening club you'd joined, but no one you could be open and honest with. You'd wanted your husband, your best friend.

Ironically, Jungkook had been irritated by his work just like he'd said. But when he drove down into it, he was annoyed that the busiest period had occurred at the same time you were off work. He'd wanted to spend time with you, maybe even go on vacation, yet he'd barely seen you. Add on his irritation at idiotic people in the Clan putting people's lives in danger and he'd been a powder keg of annoyance.

Understandably, you'd both apologised once you'd figured out why the argument had happened. Though Jungkook had felt terrible that you'd been so sad - he'd never quite forgiven himself or the Clan for isolating you, even if it had been warranted at the time.

Patting down the soil around the plant until it's fully compacted, you hum lightly before brushing your hands together. Dirt falls to the floor from the gloves and you sit up, stretching your back with a wince and a groan. As much as you love being in the garden, your back certainly doesn't.

Standing, you grab the empty plant pots and begin to tidy up after yourself. It's meant to rain later tonight, so you don't bother watering the new plants.

Before you even get to the door that leads to the kitchen, you hear the low tones of Jungkook's voice from inside. He's home early, you think, you check the time on your phone before washing your hands in the sink.

“Here's mommy!” He coos, and you turn to see him holding your four-month-old daughter in his arms, her back to his chest. Jungkook grins at you over the top of her head, his hair perfectly gelled into place as dimples dot his tan skin.

He hadn't even bothered changing yet, still in his crisp all-black suit that he'd left in this morning. The only thing he was missing was his shoes - instead, he was just wearing black socks.

Hana squeals with excitement as she recognises you, chubby legs kicking out as her arms windmill and your heart swell with love and adoration for her. For him, too. A few years ago, you'd thought this would all be an impossible dream - yet here you are, married to him and with the perfect little girl.

“Hey, beanie! You being good for daddy?” Leaning forward, you tickle her sides and smile in delight as she wriggles in Jungkook's arms. She's such a perfect baby and has been adored by Jungkook and you since you'd seen the two pink lines in the pregnancy test. Life without her was an impossible thought, and the whole Clan knew that Hana was more important to Jungkook than anything in the Clan. He didn't care if the idea of him being a loving parent shocked some of them, if anything he believed that there were people in the Clan who needed to see what an actual parent should be.

The only thing that concerned you was Jungkook's love for Hana and you were also well known to other Clans. A deep-rooted fear was that one of them would try to attack him through Hana, despite the high levels of protection he put in place. It was something that the two of you could only attempt to mitigate, as there was no way to completely cut off the threat. Even turning whistle-blower to the government wouldn't guarantee protection.

But Jungkook did what he could. You both at least had the relief of knowing that Hana, and yourself, were safe from the rival Clan in your city. Jimin had taken over a few years ago, and even though your friendship was much more sporadic than it had been, he'd made it clear that no one was to hurt you or Hana for fear of a war breaking out.

That was his excuse, but you knew he just didn't want you or your baby girl hurt. Whilst Jungkook wasn't exactly thrilled that you were still friends with Jimin in some way, he'd been grateful to find out that Jimin had given you friendship and comfort when the whole Clan had turned against you. He was even more grateful to find out the protection that Jimin had bestowed, and if it wouldn't have caused issues with both sides then he would have let you introduce Jimin to Hana.

No one could ever say Jungkook wasn't a reasonable person. If anything, he was too reasonable when it came to you, but he'd put aside his dislike of Jimin because he'd been the only person there for you in your darkest days.

“I'm guessing you turned off the monitor, as mine didn't go off.” You ask Jungkook, gesturing to the baby monitor attached to your belt. He liked to surprise you with her, and there was nothing more you loved than seeing your big, tough husband holding his tiny baby girl. You didn't understand the logic of it, but it made you want to do things that could not be spoken aloud around Hana.

“Yeah, she was just starting to wake so I thought I'd take her instead of bothering you. You seemed pretty happy in the garden.” He replies, kissing Hana’s dark hair fondly.

No matter what the Clan thought of you, there could be no denying that Hana was Jungkook's daughter. She'd inherited his eyes, from their shape to the way they seemed to shine at nothing. The two of them next to each other made the family resemblance even stronger.

You'd made some terrible decisions in your life, but you liked to think Hana made up for them. She sure made Jungkook happier than he'd ever been, which was more than enough for you.

Leaning forward, you kiss Hana’s forehead and cherish the squeal of delight she gives at the affection. She adores her mommy and daddy - you won't accept anyone’s comments that she's a baby and they all love their parents that much. Hana, of course, is special.

“Someone's had a good nap, haven't you? You get it from your daddy, he sleeps like a log, too.” Smiling, you tickle her stomach around Jungkook's arms and enjoy the sharp peals of laughter she gives. Pregnancy hadn't been fun, and there were nights when you questioned why you'd done this, but it all went away when you heard that laughter.

“The sleep genes are strong in the Jeon's.” Jungkook laughs, leaning past Hana to press a kiss to your lips. He's not wearing his lip ring, or his earrings, as Hana had a habit of grabbing them and not letting go. Jungkook might be the head of an entire Clan that does plenty of shady shit, but he whined like a baby himself when Hana was tugging on those rings and you were constantly afraid she was going to accidentally rip them from him.

You missed them, but he put them back in for date nights or when he was going to his job. Miss Hana would have to wait till she was older to get to see daddy with his piercings again.

You're distracted away from that thought process by the way Hana starts making familiar noises, her tiny body bouncing in Jungkook's arms whilst her eyes are focused firmly on your chest.

“Okay, looks like someone is hungry.” You say, reaching out and taking Hana into your arms. She almost immediately starts nuzzling, trying to root out her source of food and makes some cranky noises when your top prevents her from reaching her goal. It’s a familiar process by now, and you take comfort in it as you head through to the living room - despite the house becoming Jungkook’s after he took over for his father, the two of you only use half of it, with the other half still housing his parents.

You’d had no interest in kicking them out of their home, especially as you thought this house was ridiculously large anyway. So, instead, Jungkook renovated the mansion until it was technically two houses in one with an office section in the centre for Clan business. It gave you the privacy you needed, without taking away from the prestige it gave to Jungkook. You didn’t have to worry about Clan business being brought into your personal space, as there was no way to access your side from the offices.

The living room was still an obscene size, but you’d chosen an equally large sofa to take up most of the space. It was somewhere that Jungkook and you enjoyed laying on to relax after a long day, and Jungkook had installed a screen projector instead of a TV. Hana was going to love this room when she was older, and you could already see the fights between her and Jungkook when they wanted to watch something in particular.

“Hang on, lemme just sort this-” Jungkook mutters as he moves past you, heading over to where the corner of the sofa intersects with the other part and patting the cushions into place. He was the master at creating a snuggle zone for you with enough support that nursing Hana didn’t cause any backache, but today you wanted to enjoy the fact he was here with you.

“Can you sit with us? Or let me lean on you?” You ask, bouncing Hana lightly as you try to distract her enough until he’s done. She’s getting impatient though, and the soft whining sounds are starting to turn a little more upset. Another few minutes and she’ll start crying.

Jungkook pauses, looking up at you with raised brows before smiling. He doesn’t even try to hide the happiness that takes over, and your heart skips a little at the pure joy and love radiating from him.

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” He says, rearranging the cushions so it’s comfy for two to sit in before quickly taking off his jacket. It’s thrown onto the sofa without a second glance, and you take a moment to wince at the elegant fabric - it’s going to crease and you know for a fact that jacket is worth a few grand. But he’s never cared about stuff like that, and you need Hana fed sooner rather than later so you don’t mention it.

“Okay, come on princess, let’s get our little bean fed.” Standing back for a second, Jungkook grins at you happily as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms, revealing the ink on them that is a colourful contrast to the rest of him. He sits down and holds out an arm, which you happily sink into before readjusting until you’re comfortable enough to sit for a while.

Hana’s face creases and the first sounds of that heartbreaking cry start to leave her. Hurriedly, you coo to her as you lift your shirt and pull your nursing bra down slightly. There’s a brief moment where you’re worried she’s going to start screaming, but her mouth latches onto your nipple and almost immediately she settles as she begins to feed heartily.

Letting out a deep breath, you let your head roll back onto Jungkook’s shoulder before smiling at him.

“Crisis averted.” You laugh, wincing ever so slightly as Hana suckles a little too painfully. Jungkook smiles at you and looks down at his little girl, his smile turning so soft. Being around Hana is always so soothing to him, even when she’s screaming with tears flowing because she’s the complete opposite of his job as the head of the Clan. She’s peace and joy and happiness and love whereas his job is often anger and frustration and violence.

He’s made it clear to you that Hana will get to do whatever she wants when she grows up. If she wants to go to college, she can or if she wants to join the Clan, then she can. Jungkook refuses to let her gender hold her back, and even though he doesn’t want her involved in the dark side of his life, he’s going to let her decide. If she wants to walk away from the Clan forever, then he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she’ll live a safe life. There’s going to be those in the Clan who will bristle at these decisions he’s making, but he’s already told you that he doesn’t care. His daughter and her happiness are more important than anything else, and you’ll support him 100%.

Sighing quietly, you let yourself relax and just watch Hana as she feeds. Her life is so uncomplicated right now, and she’s got so much to look forward to as she grows.

“Are you happy?” You ask Jungkook, not even realising you were thinking the words until they’ve left your mouth. There’s a moment of silence as Jungkook processes what you’ve said, and you feel him tense ever so slightly.

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?” The tension in him is from confusion more than anything else, and you let out a soft sigh before shifting until the back of your head is resting in the crook of his neck. Of course, he’s happy, why wouldn’t he be? But deep down inside, you know that you’ve never forgiven yourself for what you did, and there’s a part of you that’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The small part of you that’s terrified you’ll make a mistake one day and Jungkook will throw you out again, only this time keeping your daughter. It’s ridiculous, and you know that he’d never do it, but you’ve never been able to get rid of that tiny voice that says dark things to you in the back of your mind.

“Ignore me, seriously, ignore me - I’m happy and I know you’re happy. I love you. Hana is perfect, and I love her so much. She’s the best present you’ve ever given me. I dunno, I’m just tired and taking crap.” Letting out a huff of laughter, you inhale deeply and let it out in a slow motion. You’re not lying, you are tired lately and still hormonal. A four-month-old baby who relies on you to feed her means that you’re exhausted, and you’re already feeling your body start to shut down as you sit comfortably in the arms of your husband with the warm weight of your baby against you.

Jungkook presses his lips to your temple, letting them rest there for a moment.

“One day, you’ll finally believe me when I say I forgive you. But I’ll say it again - I forgive you, and I love you, and I don’t want to spend a day of my life without you. If I died tomorrow, then I’d die happy knowing I got the chance to love you and Hana. So yes, I’m happy and I’ve been happy and I’ll be happy. Please, stop beating yourself up for it.” He kisses your head again, and you’re too tired and hormonal to be hearing his words rationally. 

You start to cry, your chest heaving in a way that makes Hana grumble at being jostled but the thought of him being gone makes your heart ache so painfully. 

“Please don’t die, please.” Your plea makes him laugh quietly, and he wraps his arm around your front, just above where Hana is, and hugs you.

“Okay, okay, those were the wrong words to say when you’re nursing. My bad, forget I said it. I’m not gonna die, okay? Just…focus on that I love you. I love you, princess. Always have, always will.” Tears falling down your face, you tilt your head up until you’re able to kiss him. It’s nothing vulgar or intense, but the depth of emotions in that small kiss makes you feel so much.

“I love you, too. And Hana, I love her so much.”

[xjulixred45x]

I’m just curious about the abused!reader in your dead royalty au, it’s mentioned at the end that abused!reader is quite liked by the denizens of the underworld cause they are pretty much the only one that can calm Zagreus down so i was wondering of what your headcanons are for the like Dusa, Thanatos, Megaera, Orpheus, Nyx etc opinion with abused!reader? and just curious but just how quick to anger is dead royalty Zagreus in your au since you mention that he punishes the souls in the underworld quite often?

I've already mentioned in several posts that some relationships are still friendly and normal in Dead Royalty, like Dusa and Orpheus (precisely because 1- they didn't try to stop Zagreus and 2- they are genuinely friendly with Zagreus from the start and are grateful to Zag for the things he's done for them). But there are definitely relationships that have changed due to Zag's new attitude.

But first I'll answer the question regarding the citizens of the Underworld and how Zagreus rules.

Zagreus tries to be a firm hand in the Underworld (since he realized that things are easier if they fear you), like Hades, he imposes punishments on those who deserve it, but he's also more impulsive and takes things personally, so if someone did something that wasn't that bad but Zagreus resonates with it, boom, Tartarus.

You could say that while Zagreus tries to be less strict than his father (which he succeeds in doing) he is also less professional (he is a Believer of Karma, what can i Say?). This makes it so that no one knows how he will act and people are afraid of him.

Zagreus also has a bad habit of over-punishing, for example, people who made Consort's life miserable (from the work of Abused Reader you mentioned), which only reinforces the general idea that if you make the king of the Underworld angry, you are going to have a BAD time.

NOW! Regarding the other characters you mentioned, I will list them in order from Best relationship to Worst relationship at the moment (along with the reasons and their current relationship with Zag/Consort)

Characters Relationship with Zagreus/Abused! Reader in Dead Royalty

Characters like Hypnos and Persephone are not Included bc 1- My límit is 4 characters and 2- i have mentioned before that these two are more than fine with Zagreus in the throne. So les keep going.

Meg

• Surprisingly, Meg is one of the quickest to accept the whole situation, to everyone's surprise (and horror).

• Yes, obviously at first she was super freaked out, but at the same time she doesn't have to lie to herself about the situation anymore. Everyone KNEW that Hades was a horrible father. A decent king, but a horrible father.

• So yes, Meg doesn't really blame Zag for finally breaking up and doing what he did (if anything, she regrets not having done anything for him out of pride).

• Meg is one of Reader's bodyguards, precisely because she is a person Zagreus trusts.

• And at first, Meg was really confused about the whole thing between Zagreus and this mortal. How did it happen?

• Still, Meg really isn't one to ask many questions, so she does the job Zag asked her to do. Watch over and protect Reader.

• at first it was awkward, neither of them talked much (reader because they felt intimidated and Meg because she didn't even know what to talk about with a mortal. it's much easier to punish them)

• but eventually they managed to break the ice when reader wanted to know more about what the ecosystem of the Underworld was like. so they went to the three different levels.

• i would say that reader sees Meg as a friend, they even go to talk about rumors with Dusa and in general they get along.

• also Meg is one of the few people who approves of Zagreus' violent methods to deal with reader's "suitors" (she usually punishes the unfaithful ones, what did you expect?)

• she and Zag don't talk to each other as much as before, but at least now they can get along.

Thanatos

• I think more than one person was surprised that Meg was in first place and not Thanatos, but I'll explain why.

• Thanatos supported Zagreus, yes, he didn't try to stop him like Meg, but at the same time he is one of those who understands the least why Zagreus would do something like what he did.

• I think we can all agree that while Than knew the seriousness of the situation between Zag and his father, he really didn't understand how badly it affected Zagreus. He didn't even understand his desire to leave in the first place. So this is beyond his understanding.

• Zagreus still loves Than(platonically), but there is also that small part of him that resents him, that doesn't forget his words, that doesn't want to forget and forgive. While Thanatos doesn't even know what he did wrong.

• When the reader comes into their lives, Thanatos is still more confused. Almost hurt. Zag never told him about this, there was never anything they didn't know about each other, first the thing about wanting to run away and now THIS?

• At first Than avoids Reader like the plague, but he can't help but stare at them when they interacts with Zag, how close they are, the affection he has for them... how long has this been going on? Does Zag really trust him so little now?

• I don't think Thanatos resents Reader, rather the circumstances. But he can't help being a bit rude to them when they's around him. For the same reason Zagreus has decided that they don't cross paths often.

• Zagreus trusts Than with his work, but not with the love of his life.

Nyx

• Do you remember the first post I made of this Au? In which I mentioned that the reason why Zagreus had changed so much in attitude and power was due to the mirror of darkness given by Nyx?

• I think it explains itself pretty well.

• Nyx feels irremediably responsible for the situation, which has brought an imbalance in the world. She feels that she must fix it. The problem? Zagreus doesn't want her to "fix" it.

• Zagreus finally gets what he deserves! His father won't bother them anymore! Why would he want to change things the way they were before!? She helped him make this happen!

• This generates a LOT of fights between Nyx and Zagreus. To the point where their relationship practically broke down (let's keep in mind that here Zagreus didn't forgive her so quickly for lying to him about his mother, he's more resentful).

• If he and Nyx are fighting and she tries to intimidate him, unlike Hades, Zagreus has the material to fight back. She may be a primordial being. But HE is the one who KILLED a GOD. It doesn't suit her to try to contradict him now.

• Nyx is definitely pretty depressed now about the situation and how her attempt to help ended up going against her child.

• When Reader arrives in the Underworld, Nyx isn't confused, she's worried. Worried that history will repeat itself.

• She tried to convince Zagreus that it was a bad idea. To have a mortal consort. But Zagreus decreed that since Reader was now part of Hades, he could take them as a consort.

• Nyx interacts very little with Reader, almost not at all. She just looks at them with sadness. But she at least tries to distract them when she sees that Zagreus is about to "release the pressure" on some poor suitor.

• She watches over Reader in the shadows, but not much more.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[a-boca-do-inferno]

when i look at you (al pacino x reader) [request]

summary: Al finds himself at a crossroads on set.

warnings: fluff, bit of angst

words: 1.0k

notes: hello guys! yes, im alive and well. just a clarification: i write for characters only, but i wrote this one thing specifically for a request that has been sitting in my inbox for a long time. at this moment requests are closed, but once they open again, it's for characters only!!! no real people. enjoy xx

NEW YORK CITY

1975

Amid the towering skyscrapers and labyrinthine streets, the movie set hummed with activity. Al was shooting his latest film and the director, Jack, a man known for his often stress-inducing standards and fiery temperament, stood at the helm. The set was abuzz with anticipation and nerves, but your figure was the only thing he could see. You had been a constant presence on set up until that point and such a vision, full of grace and quiet strength, never failed to catch his attention. 

Al was well aware you grew up in the world of cinema, your father’s passion seeping into your very being, however Jack was fiercely protective, ensuring you stayed away from the darker sides of the industry. And it was quite clear you loved your father dearly, yet longed for a taste of the freedom you saw in the actors and crew around you. The lingering gaze you directed at Al himself could attest to that; he’s seen that look on a woman’s face before. 

The longing for more.

Al first noticed you during a scene where he was meant to display raw emotion. He glanced over and saw you, half-hidden behind the camera, your attention locked onto him, watching intently. There’s just something in your globes—admiration, curiosity, who knows?—that struck him. For a moment, he almost broke character. It was on that day he decided he had enough. 

Al approached you on the lunch break, trying to keep his tone casual. “Hey.”

You looked up, a hint of surprise in your expression. “Hey! Uh… I’ve seen all your movies, Mr. Pacino. You’re incredible.”

He chuckled. “Just Al is fine, and thank you.” He displayed a playful bow. “I’ve seen you around a lot. You work on the set?”

You shook your head. “Not really. I just like being here, watching everything come together. It’s… magic.”

Your conversation was cut short by Jack’s booming voice calling Al back to the set. As he walked away, he glanced back and saw you still looking at him, your glance filled with that something he couldn’t quite place again.

Over the next few weeks, your interactions became more frequent, always under the radar. You would steal moments between takes, sharing stories and laughter, your connection growing stronger. Al found himself drawn to your intelligence and warmth, a stark contrast to the often superficial nature of Hollywood. And you, in turn, were captivated by his intensity and passion. He treated you as an equal, valuing your opinions and thoughts, which wasn’t a dynamic you were used to. 

It wasn’t long before these stolen moments began to feel like the most important parts of your day. Still, the shadow of Jack’s disapproval hung over you both. He would never approve of his daughter being involved with one of his actors, and especially not someone with Al’s reputation involving women. 

One evening, after a long day of shooting, Al found you alone on the rooftop of the building where they were filming that day. “Hey”, he said softly, joining you at the edge. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You smiled, though it seemed tight. “Just thinking about how much I love this city. And how much I hate keeping secrets.”

Al sighed, reaching out to take your hand. “I wish things were different.”

You turned to face him, your eyes searching his. “What if they didn’t have to be? What if we… just told him?”

“He’d be furious”, Al replied matter-of-factly. “He might even fire me. I can’t risk that, not with everything riding on this film.”

You squeezed his palm. “I can’t keep pretending we’re just friends, Al. It’s tearing me apart.”

Al pulled you into his arms, holding you close. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll figure something out, I promise.”

Your embrace was interrupted by the sound of the rooftop door opening. You sprang apart just as Jack appeared, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you two doing up here?” He demanded.

“Just talking”, Al said quickly. “Needed some fresh air.”

Jack’s gaze shifted between you, doubt flickering in his features. “(y/n), it’s late. You should head home.” 

You only nodded, giving Al a fleeting, pained look before going with your father inside. The days that followed were filled with tension. You continued to see Al in secret, your moments together a mix of stolen kisses and whispered confessions. The fear of being discovered loomed over you, but so did the hope that one day, you wouldn’t have to hide.

One afternoon, as the crew was setting up for a particularly challenging scene, Jack pulled Al aside. “We need to talk.” Al’s heart pounded as he followed Jack to a quieter area of the set. He turned to the younger man, his face unreadable. “I know something’s going on between you and my daughter”, he stated bluntly.

Al’s breath caught in his throat. “Jack…”

“I’m not a fool, Al. I see the way you look at her. And she’s been different lately. Happier.”

Al swallowed hard, choosing his words carefully. “I care about her, Jack. I really do.”

Jack’s eyes softened, albeit but a fraction. “She’s my world, Al. I’ve protected her from everything this industry can throw at her. If you hurt her, I don’t know what I...”

“I won’t”, Al stated quickly, in a single breath. “I love her.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Jack studied him for a long moment before sighing quietly. “I believe you” he sighed at last. “But if you’re serious about this, you need to do it right. No more sneaking around. Be honest with her. And with me.”

Al felt a wave of relief wash over him. “Thank you. I promise I’ll make her happy.”

Jack nodded briefly, then clapped a hand on Al’s shoulder. “Alright, let’s get back to work. And later, we’re all going to dinner together. That’s your second job interview.”

Al laughed in a mix of amusement and nervousness before leaving his side to try and find you. And there you were, the same vision he came to admire everyday on set; except now his eyes were the ones sparkling with something different. No more longing, though. 

Only love. 

[captain-lessship]

His “Sidekick In The Chair” No Longer Pt.2

a/n: I promise that pt. 3 will be longer. Also enjoy Motivational Era quote Pav header cause I made it while sleep deprived

You honestly thought that living with an alien inside you would be significantly worse than what it was. 

Toxin would help you where he could. He would read recipes off to you while you cooked, he would help you with schoolwork and gave his opinion on your outfits albeit that the latter was unwanted.

There was just one thing that worried you: How was Pav going to react?

He was your best friend and it would break your heart if he didn’t approve.

“Are you sad?” Toxin asked as you set the kettle on the stove.

“Well, not exactly. I am just worried.”

“What about?” 

“What if my other friend doesn’t like you?”

The voice was quiet, “I don’t think he has much room to judge.”

You scoffed, “Yeah but I just worry.”

“Too much.”

“Shut up.”

“Fine. But I crave chocolate.” 

You rolled your eyes as you walked to the cupboard and opened it, “What kind?” 

“Dark.” 

You pulled out a bar of chocolate and began eating it, “Ya know, I think we should start training.” 

“For?”

“Superhero work.”

“I see.” 

You heard a knock at your door, you walked to it and looked through the peephole: It was Pavitr. 

It had been a few weeks since he came to your house, you opened the door and  looked at him.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” You joked, letting him in. You shut the door behind him, “So, what’s up?”

Pav looked at you, “I- Well… can we sit down?”

“Sure, I got a kettle on for tea.” You said, wondering where his sunny attitude had gone. 

He followed you into the kitchen and sat at the table, eyes watching you intently. You noticed but you kept your attention on the teapot as you filled it with boiling water. 

“Pav-“ you started but were cut off.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

You thought for a moment before turning around with the tea pot and two cups, “Is there something you want to know?”

You sat down the cup in front of him and poured his cup first, then yours. 

“Has anything… strange happened to you?”

“There is something.” You started, “But you gotta understand that… I did it for a good reason and I am happy that I did. It’ll be good for us, we can both be out there and we can help people.”

He looked at you with confusion, “I know that it is inside of you that can’t be good!” He said, moving his hands as he talked.

You were shocked that he knew and you were wondering how he knew, “He has a name.” 

“Oh he does?”

“Toxin.” You clarified.

“Might as well name him ticket to hel-“ 

Suddenly the crimson creature partially left your body to look Pav in the eye. 

“Toxin!” You shouted, “Be nice. He’s our friend.”

You looked at the creature as it moved back to rest on your shoulder like a messed up parrot.

Pav looked at you with a shocked expression, he’d only seen it on your bed, not as a moving creature, “That’s him?” 

“Yes, and he can be really sweet, right Toxin?”

“Right.” It grumbled out, eyes focused on Pav, who was reaching for his tea cup.

“Well,” Toxin said, eyes now locked to yours, “Is he the Spider Man?”

“You told him?” Pav said, leaning forward.

“He can read my mind, he found himself.” You said, taking a sip from your cup.

“What’s it like?” Pav asked. A smile came to your face: he wasn’t completely scared now, more curious than afraid. 

“Well, It is like having a second voice of reason in you that you have very little control over. He also is very smart and helpful.” You held out your hand for Toxin to move to and encapsulate. “He can also cover my body, which keeps me safe from anything.”

“Can you feel things? Like if you fall or if something gets thrown at you?” 

“Personally? No. But I can feel the force of a hit. Think like went someone turns on a leaf blower in your face or really close to your body.” You stood to allow Toxin to cover you. He stood and slowly moved to touch you, it was like a thick coating of shampoo that was very cool to the touch had invaded you. Pavitr was very impressed by it but a concern can to mind.

“Wow… It’s kinda cool. It doesn’t hurt you right?”

Your voice had changed into a blend of yours and Toxin���s, “Nah, if anything it helps cause I have to remember to take of him and that goes hand in hand with taking care of myself.”

“Does he eat weird things?”

“He’s asked for weird things.”

“Like?”

You had to answer this very carefully, it would either alarm Pav or ease his conscious. “He has asked for human brains but only for the chemicals! Only the chemical phenethylamine!”

Pav regained a look of shock and was about to open his mouth when you added on a small yet comforting detail.

“Phenethylamine is also found in chocolate.”

———————

@cantdothis-nomore

[illecebraarcanus]

𝑪𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝑽𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Word count: 2k

Glimpse: when he deliberately not tell you about his new MV drops featuring a female dancer, you realize the rules of your love game just changed — and your counterattack comes in a heart-shaped box from the intern.

Genre: Romantic Comedy/Drama | Jealousy AU | Office Romance

Rating: mature (Teen+ for mild sensuality & emotional tension)

Warnings: mild possessive behavior, flirtatious workplace dynamics, sugary warfare (literal and metaphorical), jimin being dangerously good at button manipulation (shirt-related and otherwise

"Drafted agreement for your review, Attorney Mi. I'll send it to the client once approved."

Ben Hyuk, your intern, places a stack of papers gently on your desk.

You flipped through the pages absently. "Good work. Head home early, it's past office hours."

“Yes Attorney Mi, um, I…” the junior associate stammers. You glance up, noticing him clutching a pastel pink box tied with satin ribbon.

Your stern demeanor softens into a gentle, slightly teasing smile that lands squarely on the flustered intern. "What's this?"

Ben’s face flushes scarlet, and he quickly looks away. “I—I heard your birthday was a few days ago, so I got these chocolates… just a small gift.” His whisper faded into the hum of the air conditioner. “Sorry it’s a bit late…”

You chuckle softly and wave a hand. “Thank you, Ben, but there was really no need to go to any trouble.” Your French tip tapped the gold embossed logo. "These cost half your stipend."

When the offering hovered mid-air like a guilt-ridden peace treaty, you relented. “All right, leave them here. But next time, just say it with a coffee.”

The box landed beside you with finality. Ben practically teleported out, his ears matching the ribbon's hue.

Leather creaked as you leaned back, observing the pink, heart-shaped box of chocolates, amused. Intern crushes were common, but this... adorable. Especially when you’ve got a sweet talker at home, this kind of shy hit ups become rather oddly refreshing. Still, this required strategic disposal before Jimin's bloodhound nose detected it.

♡

By the time you’re done with your final task, most of your coworkers have already headed home. The sky outside has shifted from a warm orange to a deep blue, and car headlights now form glowing streams of light against the darkening skyline.

You lean back in your ergonomic chair and stretch, feeling a wave of relief roll through your body. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers through your hair a few times—a habit you’ve unconsciously picked up since you started dating Jimin. You used to tease him with the fan edit of him raking his hand through his hair, and now here you are, doing the exact same thing.

Scrolling through Instagram, you notice that Jimin’s new song, “Who,” has been out for three hours. When he was working on his album, he’d shared almost everything—demos, concept clips—asking for your opinion. But this particular track he kept suspiciously under wraps, simply telling you, “Wait for the MV.” You never did figure out what he was plotting, and the secrecy only piqued your curiosity more. You slip on your Bluetooth earbuds.

The MV exploded across your screen in golden fractals. Neon lights dripped like liquid mercury over Jimin's glistening torso. His movements liquid fire like a golden phantom moving with grace in a grungy, punk-infused world.

Chin propped on your hand, you can’t help smiling. You know that alluring, come-hither gaze of his all too well.

“One, two, three, four, five, So many people…”

As the second verse begins, something feels off. Jimin and his female dance partner move closer… wave in sync… push, pull… her arms slide around his neck, twined around him like human ivy.

You stare at your phone screen, stunned for a moment, then let out a quiet scoff. So this was his grand secret.

You watch calmly until the end, then gather up your things. Your eyes land on the box of chocolates, and a mischievous light flashes in them. Fine, Park Jimin. If you want to play, count me in…

♡

Nighttime at home carries a special hush. A vintage record player is spinning low, sultry jazz that drifts through the room. Jimin lounges on a black sofa in a crisp white shirt, casually scrolling on his phone. The clock on the wall reads half past seven. After a moment’s deliberation, he undoes two more buttons, revealing skin that glows under the lamp.

The front door finally clicks open, and you step inside.

Usually, Jimin’s either still at work when you come home or he’s draped like a pampered prince in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, sipping wine and admiring the view. But tonight…

“Missed you,” Jimin murmurs, his breath ghosting over your collarbone as he slips your coat from your shoulders. It’s reminiscent of your best friend’s cat—smarmy and sweet right before knocking something off the table.

“I said I missed you.” He leans in to wrap you halfway in his arms when you don’t respond. His familiar cologne envelops you, but there’s something new—a hint of floral warmth that seeps through to your core.

Your gaze drifts to his half-open collar, revealing a sliver of alabaster skin and hair tousled like he just rolled off a Vogue shoot. You give him a wry grin—if a man’s worth is measured by how well he knows his girlfriend, then Park Jimin is the model student of the century.

“Your new single’s got a lot of buzz,” you remark, calmly meeting his eyes before cutting off his attempts at sweet talk.

“Oh? You watched it?” He arches an eyebrow and leans in closer, studying your face like he’s trying to read your every reaction.

“How was it?” he asks. His bang falls forward, hiding the growing smile in his eyes. Jimin’s eyes aren’t classically perfect, but there’s always been a flirtatious spark in them.

“It’s good,” you say simply. “I like it.”

“But babe, you ruined my plan,” he whines, playing the hurt puppy. “I wanted us to watch it together at home, but now it’s too late.”

You’d love to deck his infuriatingly handsome face right about now, but it’s way too soon to blow your cover. Someone as slippery—and as shameless—as Jimin needs a slow, careful simmer.

Feigning casual indifference, you slip both arm around his neck.

“Very…collaborative,” you remark playfully.

He pauses, then laughs, clearly pleased by your comment. When he looks back at you, his eyes have crinkled into smiling crescents. “Jealous?”

You slide a hand along his collar, your cool fingertips brushing the pale skin at his neck. “Do you want me to be jealous?”

Jimin holds your gaze for a moment, silently noting that you haven’t raged, sulked, or thrown a tantrum. That’s precisely what makes the situation so dangerous for him. He sighs inwardly—at this point, the only winning move is to spoil you.

“Hungry?” he asks, giving your chin a playful rub. “I made some sweet spiced chestnut porridge. It should be done by now.”

You’ve loved warm, comforting flavors ever since you were little. When you were a kid, your mom used to make chestnut porridge to soothe your stomach. Over time, you developed a soft spot for that aroma. You never told Jimin about it, so you have no idea how he found out. The more time you spend together, the more it feels like half your world has switched sides and started giving him intel.

Reading your expression, Jimin steers you toward the kitchen, looking smug. “Your mom and I have been getting along really well. She told me all kinds of funny stories about you as a kid.”

You pause, offering a tiny, helpless smile. Great—he’s recruited yet another ally. Jimin has always been a pro at charming elderlies: any hint of mischief in his personality disappears, and magically transforms into the perfect “ideal son-in-law.”

You take a small sip of the chestnut porridge. “It’s kind of bland,” you remark.

Jimin raises his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Really?” He seems ready to defend your mom’s recipe, but thinks better of it and goes to grab some sugar instead.

“Actually, I’ve been into chocolate lately.”

Preoccupied with whether he’s adding too much sugar, Jimin freezes. He turns around just in time to see you pull a pink box out of your bag.

A pink, heart-shaped box of chocolate.

You unwrap a piece and pop it into your mouth, only to be assaulted by a sickly-sweet burst of artificial strawberry flavor. It nearly makes you see stars.

“Mmm, so good,” you force out, swallowing hard and managing a smile.

“Since when do you eat sugar bombs?”

“Tastes change.” You retorted nonchalantly.

Jimin narrows his eyes. Something’s definitely up. He sets down the sugar and walks toward you. “What do you mean, your tastes changed?” he asks, voice dropping an octave.

You glance up, giving him a silent enigmatic smile.

He watches you carefully, and then a knowing grin flickers across his face. He finally realizes the game you’re playing. It’s both exasperating and thrilling, and he feels a spark of anticipation for whatever’s coming next.

Leaning in, he places his hands on either side of you, pinning you against the counter. The gentle warmth of his presence closes in around you.

“So,” he says smoothly, “who gave you that chocolate?”

“Curious?”

You hold your ground, resting your arms on his chest. Your gaze drifts from his lips back up to his eyes, and you flash a tantalizing smile.

Jimin’s heart gives a jolt under your teasing. His arms wrap more snugly around your waist as he leans in for a kiss.

But just as he takes the bait, you push lightly against his chest. Turning around, you take another piece of chocolate from the box and hold it to his lips.

“Eat this, and I’ll tell you.”

He gives a rueful little laugh, staring at the candy as if trying to decide if you’re actually poisoning him for the sake of some grand scheme. Then, right on cue, your phone rings—loud and shrill—shattering the heated atmosphere.

♡

It’s your phone. Jimin is closest, so he picks it up and hands it to you. Glancing at the caller ID, you are surprised.

Well, isn’t this convenient, you muse. You answer and surreptitiously turn the volume up.

“Noona, it’s Ben Hyuk. Sorry to call so late… is this a bad time?”

Hearing the young male voice from the other end, Jimin lifts his gaze to you.

“No, It’s no problem at all. What’s up?” Your voice is sweeter and lighter than normal, carrying a faint lilt of flirtation. Immediately, Jimin’s expression stiffens, displeasure carving a deep furrow in his brow.

“I’m sorry I gave you your birthday gift so late. I just… wasn’t sure if you’d like the chocolate?”

The moment “chocolate” is mentioned, the temperature in the room drops another ten degrees. You can practically feel Jimin’s heated stare burning holes through that pink box, as if he’d like nothing more than to reduce it—and possibly the whole kitchen—to ashes.

Ignoring the tension, you continue, “Oh, that’s perfect timing. I’m actually eating it right now! My friend thinks it’s too sweet, but he obviously has no taste. I think it’s delicious.”

You cast a sly, sidelong glance at Jimin, lips curving into a subtle smile.

“Oh… that’s great. Um, actually, I was wondering if you’d have time this weekend to grab dinner downtown. There’s a new restaurant I heard is really good…”

“Of course! I’ve finally wrapped up that merger case, so I’m free to celebrate.”

Meanwhile, Jimin’s expression has turned dark, all his earlier tenderness gone. The jealousy in the air is practically visible, roiling like a storm about to tear the roof off.

“Ah… t-that’s great,” Ben stutters, clearly not expecting such an enthusiastic yes. “If it’s too far away, we can always pick somewhere else… I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“No need for that. I’ve got a ‘friend’ who can drive me wherever I want—so of course I want the best place,” you say, looking directly at Jimin and arching an eyebrow: You’re available to chauffeur, right?

He’s had enough. Snatching the phone from your hand, he switches on speaker and discards it on the bar table.

“Let him hear it…”

♡

Your lips are claimed by an impatient kiss, a small cry escaping before you can stop it. The faint warmth of his breath mingles with yours as your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer. At the edge of your vision, the kitchen lights blur into a soft, hazy glow…

♡

The rich, cozy scent of dinner hangs thick in the kitchen, and the timer on the stovetop lets out a long beep. The pot has hit its boiling point—time to turn down the heat and let everything simmer...

[moonspirit]

If Annie were to connect with her birth or farthers family what will it be like?

Giving u full freedom to write

Hiya!

Firstly, I'll ask you to go read Little Bird by @aquietjune, because not only is it a fantastic fic, but it's also exactly about this!

Secondly, for my thoughts on it.

I can't imagine that somehow stumbling upon her birth family will be any kind of pleasant experience. Think about it, if Annie were to cup her hands to form a bowl, even one hand for that matter, all the love she's received during her childhood and much of her adolescence will not fill even half of it. Mr. Leonhardt is her father only in name and on some papers, but he hasn't been any kind of father to her at all. Not to mention the fact that she knows she was found by him as a baby. Annie's an orphan, abandoned for her mixed blood, not even really wanted by the man who adopted her, but only needed to be sharpened into a weapon. She knows all of it. Unfortunately for her, if she'd ever felt like seeking consolation for being left out in the cold on a streetside, she wasn't given any - only the promise of rigorous training, blood, broken skin and lonely tears.

What then, do you think her thoughts would be, regarding her own parents?

My opinion is - nothing much.

I will not say she would never have felt sad watching other kids hugging their biological parents close while she couldn't even hope to receive a pat on the head from her adoptive father. I'm not saying she wouldn't have entertained thoughts of "what if..." now and then while kicking stones into the water. I won't say she wouldn't have felt lonely and wonder why she was discarded that day she has no memory of.

But I'm saying she was too young to comprehend the abandonment to its full extent.

When people ask her about her family, she says "I've got a father," and says nothing more, because there's nothing more to say. She does have a father, it's not a lie. "What about your mother?" They then ask, but she shrugs and says, "Never had one," and it rolls so smoothly out of her mouth because that's how it is. A fact, as plain as it is that the sun rises and sets and fish swim in the water. Is it worth it feeling sad over some woman she never even knew?

That's not how she was brought up believing, thinking and feeling.

Annie's not emotionless - in fact she feels a LOT - but even then, she's grounded in a cynical reality. She makes space in her heart for a few people that really matter and curbs it to that.

So if she does chance upon her biological family, she will turn on her heels and walk back the way she came. There's no love lost. They left her there in that internment zone because they determined the color and type of blood she had that they couldn't even see was too dirty for their hands. She too, lived a very different life, thanks to that. There's no point wondering how things would've turned out if that had not happened; it's a waste of her time. This is how it is. There's nothing in common between her and them. They don't know her. She doesn't know them.

And that's as far as her tough exterior goes.

Inside, Annie's a vulnerable girl, one who's always yearned for approval, affection, love and kindness, and perhaps, she'll go home and cry in someone's arms.

Because after so many years, she saw the people who'd given birth to her, the people who gave her the colour of her eyes and the shape of her nose; after years of looking at the differences between her father and herself reminding her she's not his, she saw the family that brought her into this world - and still, she doesn't know them.

They're strangers, with nothing between them.

Nothing, only ice-cold air.

[foggyfanfic]

Fixations

Summary: Juan is an awkward kid, and he's good at things that the village doesn't find very useful. Mirabel is an awkward kid, and everybody overlooks her skill as an artist just because she didn't get a magic gift. People seem to find Juan annoying (the phrase "know it all" has been tossed around a few times). People love Mirabel (the word "sweetie" has been tossed around a lot). Juan is pretty sure if he collects enough data he can figure out how to be more like Mirabel.

2. Juan

“Gracias for coming,” Mirabel said, handing his mother something made out of paper and string on their way out the door.

“Oh it was our pleasure,” his Má said, passing the paper something off to Juan so she could clasp Mirabel’s hands, “it was a wonderful party my dear, and I absolutely love your dress.”

It was a butterfly, the paper thing, it was a butterfly with little pieces of yarn strung through it to create the patterns on its wings.

“Oh! Do you?! Gracias, I-I embroidered it myself,” Mirabel said, her smile getting just a bit wider.

“Really?” His sister jumped in, moving around him so she could inspect Mirabel’s dress more closely, “You did this yourself? It’s gorgeous.”

“When she gives fake compliments she calls things fantastic,” Juan said, “she only calls things gorgeous if she actually likes them.”

This was maybe a misstep, because Mirabel’s face did a sorta twitch thing and his Má and sister gave him this sidelong look, but then Mirabel smiled at his sister and it was even wider than it had been before he spoke. Usually if his sister gave him that look but people started smiling more, it meant that what he said was weird, but not hurtful. That was acceptable to him, so he brushed the incident off.

He watched his sister’s face as she gushed over Mirabel’s embroidery, he watched Mirabel’s face as her embroidery was gushed over. He counted how many times Mirabel looked away from his sister’s smile, her cheeks red. Eventually he noticed it happened whenever his sister complimented her skills. It was an expression of bashfulness.

When they finally left Casita behind his mother gushed over how adorable and humble Mirabel was, she unknowingly confirmed Juan’s opinion that Mirabel had felt bashful when addressed with glowing praise. 

“That girl is such a sweetie,” his Má said, “maybe that’s her gift, being just the absolute best.”

She did not ask for the butterfly back.

Juan kept it.

He studied it.

He thought about Mirabel’s smile every night for three weeks while he stared at the butterfly.

When he noticed the paper was fraying on one end from his constant handling he got a picture frame for it and stared at it some more. 

The next time Mirabel passed by the bean stall while Juan was working, he watched her carefully. Mirabel was the Madrigal who didn’t get a gift, and nobody knew why, people had their theories, but nothing solid. They did not look at her with the same shine of admiration they looked at the other Madrigals with, but they did smile when they saw her. They greeted her warmly, drew her into conversations, eagerly told her about their days and seemed cheered when she expressed approval or empathy. People liked Mirabel. 

Why?

People did not like Juan. Not really. Especially not people his own age. Nobody wanted to listen to his stories, nobody thought his math jokes were funny (even when he explained the math first instead of after), nobody eagerly waved him down so that he could comment on their day.

And again, why?

He measured the butterfly one night, it was three inches tall and three and a half inches wide at its widest point.

On a different day, Adelaide was over and he asked her about Mirabel.

“Do you like Mirabel?” he asked.

“Sí, most people do.”

“Why?”

“Why do I like her? Or why do most people like her?”

“Why do you like her?”

“She is kind to me,” Adelaide said, “even when she doesn’t know how to be.”

Juan had asked her what she meant but she had shrugged and told him she didn’t know how else to put it. When his sister joined them he asked her the same question.

“Do you like Mirabel?”

“Of course, she’s a sweetie!”

“What does that mean? What makes a person a sweetie?”

“She listens when people talk, and always has something nice to say, and is good with kids, and stuff like that.”

“That is not specific enough, define ‘stuff like that’,” Juan said, and Adelaide nodded.

“Oh you know, stuff that shows she cares about people.”

“Hm,” Juan made a thoughtful noise, while Adelaide had silently cocked her head. His sister had rolled her eyes and left, telling them she loved them in an exasperated voice.

For the next couple weeks, Juan followed Mirabel with a pencil and some paper whenever he had free time while she was in town. He found that in conversations, roughly forty percent of what she said were questions about the other person, fifteen to eighteen percent of what she said was to express some form of empathy, roughly three percent of what she said were compliments, ten percent was her talking about a third party’s accomplishments (usually this third party was a member of her family or a close friend), and only twenty nine percent of what she said was about herself or her interests. He also found that nobody noticed him unless he actively drew attention to himself, making it really easy to stand just within earshot of Mirabel’s conversations taking notes.

The next time he and Mirabel were at the same party he approached her and asked her about the butterfly she put on the shoulder of most of her clothes. She briefly explained how she’d made it then tried to turn the conversation around to be about him. He parried her attempt.

“Why that color?”

“What?”

“That color?” He worried he may have chosen a strange question, but couldn’t think of a way that it might be hurtful, “Is it your favorite?”

“Oh, uh, no, no I just happened to have some spare green yarn. Why? Do you like green?”

“Green’s fine. Why’d you have green yarn? Was it leftover from another project?”

“Um yeah, I was just uh trying out a new knitting stitch,” she said, eyes flicking from his face to the rest of the room. He looked around but didn’t see anything else of note.

“Did you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The knitting stitch?”

“N-not really,” Mirabel cleared her throat, “so! Uh do you uh knit?”

“No. Why didn’t you like it? What was wrong with it?”

“It was just a little finicky,” she said.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh uh, it’s not like a huge problem,” Mirabel said, then cleared her throat again.

“That’s the second time you’ve cleared your throat,” he informed her, “are you thirsty?”

“You know something, I am! I am very thirsty so I think I’m just going to uh go. Get a drink. Adios.”

And then she walked away before he could ask her what her preferred beverage was. He frowned at her back. Later he sat down at his desk and recounted his conversation with her. He came to the conclusion he hadn’t gotten the question to reaction ratio correct. He wrote out a few potential scripts for the same conversation then had his sister grade them on how natural they sounded.

“There is nothing natural about a practiced script,” she said, “you get that, right?”

“Sí, of course, but if I practice this script I will be better prepared to improvise in future conversations.”

“I love you Juan,” she sighed, “but I don’t think you’re fully grasping how to be a human being.”

“I don’t think I am either,” he agreed, “that’s why I’m doing this.”

She had sighed again, then nodded, and graded his scripts. She even helped him practice them until he had figured out how to ask questions without sounding like “you’re planning to plug all this information into one of your equations”.

A month after that party, Casita fell. He got another chance to talk to Mirabel while helping to rebuild her house.

“What color paint do you think we should use?” he asked, indicating the freshly erected walls.

“Well, that’s sort of something my whole family has to agree on,” she’d hedged, examining the walls and not looking at him.

“But if you got your first choice? What would it be?”

She had cocked her head and examined the walls, even stepping back a few feet and angling her face up so she could see the entirety of what they had built so far. He studied her as she studied the house. Her eyes ticked this way and that, her lips pursed then pressed themselves together, her brows jumped over passing thoughts. 

“Peach, or a soft yellow,” she finally said, “to catch the sun.”

“Seems reasonable. Do you like peach? Or yellow? Or do you just want to catch the sun?”

“Eh, I like them but they’re not my favorite colors,” she shrugged, “but it’s not just my house, you know, I want something that’ll make everybody feel warm and welcome.”

Juan hadn’t been able to muster up a response before her attention was drawn away. It took him three days, actually, to untangle what he thought about her words.

“Mirabel is a sweetie,” he told Adelaide, while he spread out the blanket for astronomy club.

“What does that mean?”

“It means she genuinely cares about everybody and goes out of her way to show it.”

“Oh,” Adelaide said, she looked up from the telescope she was setting up, “how does one show they care about everybody?”

Juan took in a deep breath, thinking it over, then told her, “I don’t have enough data to give you a succinct answer, I only have the evidence that has led me to this conclusion.”

“Hm, let me know if you figure it out,” Adelaide said, returning her attention to the telescope.

When things had settled a little bit, Juan once again followed Mirabel around town when he could. He was fascinated to note that Mirabel expressed her opinions two percent more than the last time he had studied her interactions with others, he also noted she spoke about her own experiences upwards of ten percent more. Furthermore, she volunteered to help more often, or was quicker to offer advice, than she had been before.

When he couldn’t figure out what the data meant, he took it to his sister.

“It means she’s more confident ya dingus,” she said, “now quit being a creep.”

“A creep?”

“Sí, following people around and taking notes about what they do is creepy.”

“Oh,” Juan said, then, “good to know.”

He later informed Adelaide that following Mirabel around so he could take notes on her behavior was creepy.

“How are we supposed to learn to talk to people then?”

“I don’t know, pretty sure we’re just supposed to know,” he said, “like everybody else does.”

She had sighed, then later pulled Josephine into the conversation, “How do you know how to talk to people?”

“I don’t know, I just think about what would be a nice thing to hear from somebody else, then say it,” Josephine said.

If Juan hadn’t been informed that it was creepy, he would have jotted that down. The next time he saw Mirabel at a party he told her she spoke to people well. She gave him a surprised look and thanked him, she had looked genuinely pleased, but before Juan could make absolutely sure his compliment hadn't weirded her out, she got called away by her sisters.

Eventually, he would propose to Mirabel, and she would accept. She would immediately want to tell everybody but he would stop her. 

Juan took her by the hand and led her to a bench that looked out on the park they were at. He sat next to her and after a few false starts, said exactly what he had practiced in the mirror.

“Actually, um, there’s probably something I should show you,” he said, reaching into the bag he had brought on their date, he had known he wouldn’t feel right letting her accept his proposal if he wasn’t honest with her, “here. These uh, these are my notes from when we were teenagers. My n-notes on you.”

Mirabel slowly accepted the small stack of papers with wide eyes, then started flipping through them.

Juan cringed as she did. He had grown a lot since he was that confused kid with a notepad, certainly enough that he now understood not just that what he did was creepy, but why it was so. A part of him wished he could bury this, completely forget the weird kid he had been, but Mirabel deserved his honesty.

“Remember how I said I was fascinated by your ability to be both clever and charming? Well uh I tried to figure it out by… following you. Stalking you, technically.”

Mirabel ducked her head, her hair shielding her eyes from his view and a hand pressing to her mouth. After a few tense seconds her shoulders started shaking.

“Ay, I’m so sorry, I know, it’s-. I’m sorry. I’ll just leave you alone,” he said, beginning to stand. Her free hand shot out and caught his forearm before he got far.

He watched her, at first nervously, then suspiciously.

“Are… you laughing?”

“N-no,” she lied, the word shaking and wobbling like a newborn donkey getting to its feet for the first time.

“You are! You’re laughing at me.”

“Maybe,” she said, a few giggles breaking loose.

“Well that’s just-! I was just trying to be open and honest with you and this is what I get, you’re laughing at me,” he huffed, pretending to be more offended than he actually was. It paid off and soon Mirabel was keeling over, into his side, giggling helplessly while he wrapped an arm around her. He continued to huff and grumble into her hair, holding her close while she laughed joyfully.

When she had settled, he told her, “I am sorry, by the way, for invading your privacy like this.”

“Oh don’t worry about it,” Mirabel waved it off, wrapping one of her arms around him so they were snuggled closely on the bench, “we all do dumb stuff when we’re young.”

“Now hold on, this may have been morally iffy, but I wouldn’t call it dumb,” he said, taking the papers back with his free hand so he could gesture with them, “this here is how I learned how to talk to you. And there is nothing I’ve ever done or will ever do that is smarter than getting your attention.”

“Oh really?”

“Sí. Because clearly I am absolutely hopeless at the whole people thing,” he shook his head, “marrying the expert is my only chance.”

“The expert? The expert on what?”

He waved the papers around in a vague circle, trying to come up with the right words, eventually he said, “On being a sweetie.”

Mirabel laughed at him some more, but she also wrapped her arms around his middle so she could squeeze him close, so that was ok.

A/N: It's Juan again, hi Juan. I see Mirabel as being the sort of person who would have all sorts of labels in today's world, but would fly under the radar in a society that doesn't really talk about things like neurodivergency and bisexuality. So I want Juan to be somebody who would be considered relatively plain or cliche in today's world but absolutely doesn't fly under the radar if you don't have the context for his special interest in math or overly analytical behavior. Juan loves to overthink things and he doesn't really get why other people don't (but he at least accepts other people have different interests than him by the time he's twenty). Mirabel, who is pretty analytically minded herself, sees his overthinking as adorable and relatable, not creepy.

[impossibleprincess35]

Hello, I'm watching the clone wars again. and it had not caught my attention satine kryze until now, could you explain to me about his personality and character. Thank you for reading

Hi there!

Factually, Satine Kryze is the Duchess of Mandalore, and she is a pacifist, representing the New Mandalorians who have turned from the violent ways of their past. Without bias, it's pretty safe to say that she has a relatively high approval rating among her people, and she has done some incredible work rebuilding Mandalore following years of civil war among her people. Famously, Satine does not align Mandalore with the Republic or the Separatists in the Clone Wars, and instead, forms the Council of Neutral Systems, for other leaders who also eschew taking sides in the conflict. She is the daughter of a warlord (Duke Adonai Kryze, though other than his name, we know little of), and she has a sister, Bo-Katan Kryze, and a nephew, Korkie Kryze.

There are lots of little crumbs of information that Dave Filoni, Pablo Hidalgo, and one or two others involved in the making of "The Clone Wars" have dropped over the years in regards to things such as the age difference between Satine and Bo-Katan, and if there is another Kryze sibling to explain the nephew (who, it has been confirmed, is not Bo-Katan's child), but basically, nothing is established as canon, so we're all out there theorizing our asses off. :)

Also, when she was younger, she was put in the protection of Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, for a year. During this time, she and Obi-Wan fell in love, but they went their separate ways, choosing Mandalore and the Jedi Order over each other. (It's canon that she nicknamed him "Ben." Also, a big fan theory is that Korkie Kryze is actually Obi-Wan's son, but it's not canon, so.. *shrugs*)

All this being said, Satine's fascinating. She's haughty, she's ill-tempered, she's snippy, but she's also compassionate and she's scrappy. She loves Mandalore fiercely, enough to take principled stances that make her unpopular with the rest of the galaxy, and she shows mercy to even domestic terrorists who bomb her city.

In my humble opinion, she is a vastly complex character that deserves so much more exploration, but because there's very little about her in canon aside from her episodes in TCW and a few small mentions in books, most of what you'll find is fandom content.

But those who love her love her dearly, and those who hate her really fucking hate her, and you'll find most people feel strongly one way or the other.

Thanks for the ask and I hope this helps! If not, or if you have anything further, don't hesitate to reach out! I'm happy to answer/help/guide you in the right direction! :)

[sagemonsters]

@that-dnd-life has a blind date with...

Honey the Werebear

Honey is a paunchy transmasc werebear who has curly hair that is constantly in disarray, a booming laugh, a chipped front tooth, and kind eyes. He dresses in comfortable clothes and always smells like cinnamon.

Honey is a warmly gregarious person by nature and collects friends the way other people collect Pokémon cards. He cherishes every single friend he makes, but you’re especially dear to him and he seeks you out above other friends. He texts you “good morning” every day and makes an effort to respond to all of your texts. He cares about the mundane happenings in your life and would never call you boring.

Honey loves to cook and bake—it’s how he got his name! He’s particularly fond of complex desserts, and often asks for your opinion on what recipe he should try out next. He’s working on writing a cookbook, and will test recipes over and over before presenting them to you for “the final seal of approval.” He truly values your input in his creative process.

Although he has an entire bookcase filled with cookbooks and culinary history nonfiction, Honey doesn’t read much outside of his comfort zone. Instead, he asks you what book you’re reading and lives vicariously through your descriptions and clear enjoyment of the stories you’re imbibing. He likes listening to people talk about things they care about.

Honey loves to make you laugh, and will do silly voices to represent various members of your stuffed animal collection while acting out conversations between them. He wholeheartedly approves of that collection (he feels the same way about good-quality cookware) and is a very understanding person overall. He isn’t one to judge people, and disapproves of mean-spirited humor.

“You’ve been eyeing that plushie display for at least ten minutes,” a voice said behind you. You jumped and turned around, and met the grin of a kind-looking, easygoing man. “Which ones are you the most torn between?”

You cocked your head to the side. The man wasn’t wearing a shop uniform, so it was highly unlikely he was an employee here. “How do you know it’s been ten minutes? …Or are you just making that up?”

His smile turned a trifle embarrassed. “I come here for the people-watching, to be honest. This shop sells a lot of vintage and handmade toys, and it’s always nice to see people find a new favorite thing, you know? You’ve got the look of a seasoned collector.”

A blush heated your face. “Thanks, I think. You’re right, I do have a few stuffies at home.”

“Excellent! I need some help finding a mascot for my new restaurant. A bear of some kind, but otherwise I don’t really have any preferences.”

You thought for a moment, looking past the displays of Squishmallows and Jellycats to the secondhand toys. Some of them were quite worn (or “well loved” as the sign said), while others looked as though they had time traveled right out of a display window from over a hundred years ago. 

“Why a bear?” you asked eventually.

“Oh, it’s because I’m a werebear and the restaurant is called the Bearpaw Grill,” the werebear said, but he grimaced as he said the restaurant's name—as though it left a bad taste in his mouth—before continuing: “Call me Honey, by the way.”

“That’s a cute name—yours, I mean,” you said, and then introduced yourself. “Do you not like your restaurant?”

“I love it just fine. I love the building, I love the kitchen… I just don’t like the branding. It sounds like a sports bar, when really I want to run a family-oriented diner, you know? But my marketing manager is very insistent.” 

“So? It’s your diner, isn’t it?” you pointed out. “You should follow your own dream, not someone else’s. What about this one?” You walked over to one of the bins of secondhand stuffed animals and pulled out a tattered-looking bear. It had blue button eyes and a little pink nose, with one green ear and a lopsided, stitched-on smile. “He looks like he’s been cuddled a lot.”

“He’s perfect,” Honey said, and then looked up at you. “And you’re right—I should stay true to my original vision. Come by sometime, okay? I want to treat you to lunch if that’s okay. Our grand opening is next month, and we’re right on the square by the clock tower.”

You smiled back at Honey. “That sounds really nice. It’s a date, then.”

Honey grinned back at you. “Yeah. I’m looking forward to it."

see here to get your own blind date with a monster!

[celticcrossanon]

Ah Celta. These so called Wales fans have gone crazy crazy. There are some who support eom3n soccer and they are eating their tails about William not going to the lionesss play. They cite Anne visiting Canada on the QT earlier this year, so they don’t see why William can’t go. Where to begin?

No offence to Anne’s fans but where is Anne on the popularity scale to William? I know she works hard and is respected etc, but seriously, there is no comparison. He’s the heir, one of the most popular, and there are big security concerns. Not to mention I suspect this visit has to cleared by the FO, and we sure as heck don’t know if Charles will approve of such a flying visit, literally. He’s a counsellor of state, and Charles may not approve of his visit. Who the heck knows anymore? But these so called Wales fans are behaving more like Charles Stan’s IMO. People are really showing their true colours.

All this argi bargi started as soon as the lionesses won. The minute I tell you. Disgusting.

Hi AnonymousRetired,

I saw the same argument starting even before the semi finals, as 'what if' speculation. My opinion on it is as follows:

Having William fly in, watch the FIFA World Cup Final, and fly out would be a public relations disaster. Such behaviour would clearly give the message that all he cares about is England, and not the Commonwealth realms.

Australia (a Commonwealth realm) and New Zealand (a Commonwealth realm) are co-hosting the World Cup. Both of these countries have William as the heir to their Head of State. He is our future King.

With respect to Australia, we have not seen William or Charles on tour for quite a few years, despite noises made to the contrary. We haven't seen Prince William since 2014 in Australia, and King Charles's last visit was to attend the Commonwealth games, not a proper tour of the country, in 2018. His last proper tour of Australia was 2015. Our last royal tour was the disaster that was Harry and Meghan inflicting themselves upon us, and we haven't had anything since to remove that bad taste from our mouths.

The sentiment for a Republic is strong and growing stronger in Australia, especially as the current government supports that idea.

We have had covid, which cancelled a tour, and then a coronation, and there has been nothing in the way of our new Head of State or his heir coming to visit us. Nothing. People are feeling that our Head of State simply does not care about us, as for all his fine words his actions say quite clearly that we are not important enough for him to visit. Germany is, but we are not. So, quite a few hurt feelings from people who expected to at least be acknowledged in some way by their new Head of State.

Now, into this mess, throw sports. We know that William supports England over the other realms of which he is the heir. It's not pleasant to have him cheering against you, but we know that he does and it is accepted. However, IG posts or tweets are one thing. Having him fly into the country, support a rival team that just defeated us, and then fly out again, is quite another. That would be rubbing it in our faces that he doesn't give two hoots about Australia or New Zealand (which he wouldn't even visit), and that would definitely feed into the growing republican sentiment.

Then there is the travel factor. It is a long way from the UK to this part of the world. To spend all that money and resources and carbon pollution just to watch a game that he can see perfectly well on TV at home - well, it's not a good look for the founder of Earthshot at all, let along giving off 'entitled rich ponce' vibes.

If William (and Catherine, and the kids) had wanted to be present at the FIFA World Cups games, regardless of who won and who lost, then it should have been planned as part of a 2-3 week tour of Australia and New Zealand. We would all love to see him and his children again, especially George, who won our hearts as a baby. Come over here, bring the children, visit the sights, meet and greet people, and attend a few matches as part of the tour - one where England is playing, one where Australia is playing, and one where New Zealand is playing. Attend at least one match in Australia and at least one match in New Zealand. That would be fair and it would show support for us as a country. If he was charming enough, he might even get people cheering for England with him.

A tour with a few FIFA games included would have been wonderful. Flying in and out just to cheer for England is the opposite.

TL;DR: Having William fly in, watch the finals and fly out would be a disaster for the relationship between Australia and its Head of State and his heir. William staying in England and watching the match on TV is far better for the relationship.

Edited for typos (I bet I still missed some).

[sasquapossum]

I've discovered a lot of covers of Zombie, by The Cranberries, lately. Some of them have been around for a while but somehow I haven't seen them, while others are genuinely new. Here's the original, to get us started.

This is an extremely powerful song, and I have equally strong opinions about it. If you know anything about Dolores O'Riordan and The Cranberries, or have watched the video, you'll know it's about the Troubles in Ireland. I feel it's critically important for any cover to respect that, both for the sake of Dolores who is now gone and for the sake of Irish people generally. The vocals are meant to express both great sadness and great anger. For that reason I will not be linking to the Miley Cyrus or Halocene covers, because I feel that their performance in an emotionally bland style fails to show that respect.

One particular aspect of Dolores's singing is that at many points she's keening (from Gaelic caoineadh meaning to cry or weep). As the most amazing Elizabeth (Charismatic Voice on YouTube) explains in her reaction video, this involves deliberate crossing from upper CT-dominant to lower TA-dominant registers, over and over again. It's a powerful expression, as you'll see.

The best known cover, by a long shot AFAICT, is by Bad Wolves.

Tommy Vext has a rich, deep voice, so he doesn't do keening. In fact he kind of goes in the opposite direction with an impressively smooth delivery, but he expresses that intensity in many other ways. Again, Elizabeth enlightens with another reaction video. There's also a personal connection to Dolores here (mentioned in the video itself) and a few lyrics changes which I'm sure she must have approved. The first call-back to the original video (at about 1:30) broke me so badly I had to stop and compose myself for a full minute. Very powerful.

Next up is Dan Vasc. I love Dan. Unfortunately, I don't have much to say about his version, except that he delivers this with his customary excellence. Also, this is explicitly a cover of the Bad Wolves version, which makes it third generation and I think that's kind of cool.

Next up is another favorite: Colm McGuiness. This one hits hardest of all IMO. Of all the male singers, Colm comes closest to keening, and his intensity in other sections is something to behold. I hope he had a nice cup of lemon-ginger tea after doing that to his vocal chords. It's hard to believe anyone could go darker and heavier than Dan, or break me worse than the Bad Wolves version, but ... well, just listen.

Shifting gears just a little, but still on the rock/metal side, we have Rock Orchestra. IMO this is the best arrangement of a cover, using all the sounds of an orchestra to great effect. I love the woodwinds, I love the strings, I love the brass, I even love the xylophone. Julian Hinton did a masterful job on that. Erin Fox also does a great job, coming closest to Dolores's sound in the first two thirds and adding some of her own completely appropriate stylings in the last part.

Now for a complete change of pace - sort of a "palate cleanser" if you will. Systir is another one of my favorites. This is an acoustic version, with Lauren McGlynn delivering a shoegaze-y performance that leans much more into sadness than anger. That might seem at odds with the original's intent, but it really does work IMO. One of the things about a great cover is that it can go in its own direction while still remaining connected to the original. As an Irish group, I'm sure everyone involved here understood the importance of respecting the original song and its subject matter, and they thoroughly did those justice. This one might haunt me the most.

There are many more, some of them very good in their own ways. Unfortunately, I need to stop short of turning this into a whole dissertation and - as you can see - the competition for what to include is very intense. I hope you've all discovered some new artists, and maybe learned a little bit as well. Thanks to all of these wonderful artists (and one commentator) for honoring Dolores, and of course the people she was singing about as well.

[richincolor]

Title: This Time It’s Real Author: Ann Liang Genres: Contemporary, Romance Pages: 352 Publisher: Scholastic Review Copy: Purchased Availability: Available now

Summary: When seventeen-year-old Eliza Lin’s essay about meeting the love of her life unexpectedly goes viral, her entire life changes overnight. Now she has the approval of her classmates at her new international school in Beijing, a career-launching internship opportunity at her favorite magazine…and a massive secret to keep.

Eliza made her essay up. She’s never been in a relationship before, let alone in love. All good writing is lying, right?

Desperate to hide the truth, Eliza strikes a deal with the famous actor in her class, the charming but aloof Caz Song. She’ll help him write his college applications if he poses as her boyfriend. Caz is a dream boyfriend -- he passes handwritten notes to her in class, makes her little sister laugh, and takes her out on motorcycle rides to the best snack stalls around the city.

But when her relationship with Caz starts feeling a little too convincing, all of Eliza’s carefully laid plans are threatened. Can she still follow her dreams if it means breaking her own heart?

Review: [THIS TIME IT’S REAL contains a very brief mention of a stalker and a few scenes featuring online hate comments.]

If you’re looking for a pool- or beachside read this summer, THIS TIME IT’S REAL by Ann Liang would be an excellent choice. This is a cute contemporary romance with a lot of heart—after all, who doesn’t love it when two lonely people fake date their way into real feelings?

Eliza, our heroine, has been traveling all over the world with her family thanks to her mother’s job. At this point in her life, she’s no stranger to watching the vast majority of her friendships fade with distance and time, so she hasn’t put much effort into forming anything lasting at her new school. She has her family, and she has one best friend, and she’s otherwise just trying to hang on. And it’s Eliza’s loneliness that makes the first real (awkward) interaction between her and Caz resonate so much: for a second, she realizes he’s alone in his own way, too, despite his stardom.

Fake dating can be done for comparatively shallow/short-term reasons (e.g., a family event, a school reunion), so it’s fun when an author can build something with more longevity. I cackled at the scene where Eliza first proposes a mutually beneficial, time-bound relationship between her and Caz—there were some great comedic moments in that scene and throughout the rest of the book. I also appreciated that the author crafted the setup in such a way that I felt it was a fair deal between the characters, even if Eliza was the one who was desperate enough to propose it in the first place. Caz being in charge of much of their “chemistry testing” (or, date fodder for Eliza’s essays) helped make it feel like they were invested on equal grounds and was definitely a point in his favor when it came to wanting the two of them to get together.

Of course, the best part of fake dating is when the characters catch real feelings. I won’t go into much detail about that, but just know that I felt the payoff was very much worth it in my opinion. Eliza’s reactions to her own growing feelings were very well done, and I liked how Eliza’s emotional journey played out and how her and Caz’s relationship ended up against the backdrop of a slightly messy ending.

Recommendation: Get it now if you’re a fan of fake dating and related tropes. THIS TIME IT’S REAL is a great summer read for anyone looking for a contemporary romance with a lot of heart, and I’m very happy I got my hands on author Ann Liang’s latest book.

Extras:

Q & A with Ann Liang

Ann Liang shares how she managed to publish two YA books before age 23

Q&A with Ann Liang, Author of This Time It’s Real