#and the fact is -- no matter how much people like him
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"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.
Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"
"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."
"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".
And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.
It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.
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Title: His Dream Wife
Character(s): Richard (Original character / Original work)
Synopsis: He always wanted a perfect family, but life never gave him what he wanted. Instead, he was blackmailed into marrying a gold digger. But after seeing you for the first time the wife of his friend all he could think of was you. So don't mind him when he was given the option to swap his wife's consciousness with yours he took that chance immediately.
Warnings/tags: Yandere Dilf x meek reader, yandere pov, general yandere themes, body swap between reader and Yandere's wife, cheating (not done by reader), arranged, baby trapping, Yandere wants that traditional wife and lifestyle. Word count: 4.2k (Please tell me if I miss anything!)
Note: I just finished reading the webtoon "Marry My Husband," so you can probably see many small ideas taken from it in this story!
Ever since he was young, Richard had fantasies and dreams of a perfect family. He always loved the idea of someone relying on him just as much as he would on them, and someone who would love him exclusively and trust him completely. Maybe that was why he liked wolves, having been told back then that those animals would mate for life. He liked that. He wanted that. Friends were nice there is nothing wrong with that. But there is something about a family that he wanted. Maybe it was because he was jealous back then of how affectionate his grandparents were between each other, while his parents were far from that.
That was what he wanted and well maybe he started to want a little more the older he got. He wanted what his grandparents had, he wanted what the movies had⌠he wanted what his fantasies had. He loved the idea of a family, coming back from work to an affectionate housewife with her tummy big inside a second or third child while holding the first. The idea of kisses between each other, while his lover irrupts in giggles, playfully pushing him back telling him that he should not let the food turn cold or let the kids see them.
Someone he could spoil and give everything to while she relied on him and his money. He would work hard every day just for her and the kids, to give them the home they deserve. She would give back by cooking and cleaning the house, anybody knows that those things are hard work and everything takes time. But she would do it for the both of them, for him.Â
Yet he wasn't able to attain that dream. He wasn't allowed to have it. He attracted the attention of a viel woman, who had used any and every blackmail to tie him down to her. He was a manager at a big company already quickly climbing up but also came from a rich family, he unwantedly got the attention of a woman who was greedy for money and something handsome.Â
And her own manager was ripe for the picking.
She did many things but somehow he was able to avoid many of them however that could only go on for so long. She was cunning, too smart for her own good. He didn't know how she did it, it made him furious at what she did waking up in a hotel with her right beside him. He had no memories of the night yet she did when she told everyone that she had his baby a month later.
Everyone was frantic, his parents especially who cared so much about their appearance and reputation than anything else. While he hated them for the lack of love or care only forcing him to their whims to get a word above their acquaintances and rivals. The idea of him their own son mudding their name with the fact that he got someone pregnant without marriage made them furious. They wanted him to marry her immediately and he had no choice not when they held his job, reputation, and life above him not when that woman too did the same with her connections and people behind the scenes. It was idiotic that he fell into her hands like this, no matter what he did she did not let go and sank her claws deep into his skin.
Richard wanted to know if this child was his, but there was no time when everybody demanded his and that woman didn't give him a chance to check. Only to cry after the marriage that the child from miscarriage due to stress from his selfishness. Many blamed him even though he knew that she was lying this whole time but no matter what he said her crocodile tears worked far better than any explanation.
He was furious, angered by everything that happened but he wasn't allowed to do anything he wasn't allowed to break up with her. His life, everything that he worked for had turned to nothing by this woman. She could care less about love or something genuine and only cared about his money, demanding that he give her money to go shopping to buy expensive brand items and clothing while also going to parties and bars with her friends coming back home late leaving only a mess with how drunk she was.
Some days she would not come home at all and he assumed that she was with another man, as he didn't give in to her sexual demands even if they were husband and wife. At this point, the idea of touching her body even her hand disgusted him.
He thought he lost everything, he felt hopeless when he could not break up with that woman who made sure that he could not have a divorce without destroying his reputation and paying her a huge amount of cash. She was insane.
Rather than be with her he would rather drown in his work in his office. The house smelled like her strong perfume that could only make his head hurt the moment he took one whiff of it even though that woman wasn't even in the house having already left to head to the next new bar that opened up in the city.
That was his life, he genuinely thought that this was his ending, a story that didn't end so well, yet unable to change anything with knives around his neck daring him to move. But in the end, nothing is concrete, sometimes all it takes is helping an old lady who just so happens to be a fortune teller.Â
Typing away at his computer late at night in his office as he looked at the time, his thoughts could not help but let his thoughts drift for a moment. Richard closed his eyes slightly burning from looking at the laptop for too long. Leaning his chair, he pulled his tie down a little as he thought about this afternoon when he helped out a poor fortune teller the old woman after picking some stuff up at the market, who looked to be in her 80s stuck outside homeless and struggling to open her shop. As she had dropped something that had rolled towards him he picked it up and gave it to the old lady. He didn't know what moved him to help her. But as a present, he had gotten a small viel.
"Thank you for your help. You are quite the hard worker." The old woman said, sitting on the chair when everything was finally set up. She looked at him with a sly smile on her face. The old woman he later realized had a way of speaking, that wasn't normal. Weird yet at the same time sharp... too sharp. âToo bad you are stuck with such a mean spirit woman. How you handle such a woman for so long now⌠I am impressed.â Sharp as in she knew too much than he would have liked for a stranger to know.
"Buahahaha, don't worry boy this would be the last you would ever hear from me after this." The old woman laughed at his stiff glare. He didn't know how she did it but she seemed to know a lot about his relationship with his wife and the trouble that he was in yet at the same time she had a knack for poking at his sore spots.Â
Before Richard could think about calling the police she suddenly pulled out a vial inside containing a blue liquid, "You help me with my little trouble so I want to give you a little something, that could help you with your own little trouble. Besides, I couldn't resist helping someone in need.âÂ
âA little swap potion, let your wife and your sweetheart drink it and they will swap at the start of the next day. The lil spell would wear off in a month but if there is nothing to return to⌠well then that means nothing could even happen. Dont yah think so boy? Haha!â He took the vial from the lady, thinking about throwing it when she was nowhere in sight. The creepy grin didn't match her so-called kind action, but she was not finished with talking.
âYou better move fast my boy, that woman will make sure you will be dead before a year. It is very easy to hide evidence with a car crash.â
After that, it was difficult to throw the thin vial. Part of him could not drop the liquid into the bin, so he stored it on his office desk, locked but with a key, along with other important documents and such.
"Richard!! Why did you not show up at the dinner party?! Do you know how much embarrassment you have caused me?" his wife screamed. He couldn't help but groan in annoyance the moment he walked through the entrance. It was too early in the morning for such screaming, but she just continued on and on: "And why are you here now?!! It is the next day!? Explain yourself!"
"I don't need to explain myself to you at all." Walking past his wife who was glaring daggers at him. The more he learned about his wife the more he realized that she was similar to his parents, cared only about reputation, and was selfish putting themselves first before anything else. Hypocrites. "I had to finish up some work so I stayed at my office. I needed to finish all the file work before the meeting." Unlike a certain someone who would come home the next day afternoon after being in someone else's arms.Â
Walking into his own home, he could not recognize it... everything was thrown about and trashed everywhere. Expensive decorations on the floor and shattered. Sofa and pillows ripped letting cotton spill from them. Walls wet and dirty with glass cups, and pots of plants shattered on the floor. Looking at everything he kept his anger internally holding everything in as he continued to walk towards his office and bedroom locked with a key.
This wasn't the first time this happened, he had found out that there was no use to teaching someone who saw no reason to change her ways. He just needs to call in some cleaners, replace the things that broke and that was it.
Heading to his home office to place his bag on the table he suddenly received a text on his phone. Pulling out the device to check who it was while the woman continued to scream at him.
"That doesn't explain why you didn't tell me you couldn't join the dinner!" It was because she wouldn't listen, no matter what. If he had told her, she would have either demanded that he come or screamed at himâfirst on the phone, then again when he got home. "Answer your phone when I call! Are you even listening to me?!"
He knew of the calls and messages. She had been calling non-stop and texting for an hour since he didn't come to her friends' dinner. He just didn't care to answer and left it on mute to let him focus on his work. Looking at the sender he couldn't help but sigh.
"Hey, I am talking to you!" Her shrill screaming was mind-numbing as he got his clothes unable to stand her voice and would rather change elsewhere. "RICHARD!!!"
He quickly left the house and got into his car, ignoring the high-heeled shoe that was thrown at himâmissing as it landed. Starting the engine, he drove off, tuning out her shouts.
It was past midnight, and he was alone on the road. No one else was in sight. As he waited at a red light, he pulled out his phone to check a message. It was from a "friend" he had made at university, inviting him to dinner the next day. The guy had always been friendlyâor at least tried to be. He had the personality of a know-it-all, and while he didnât care for him much, it seemed the guy had once considered them friends. That was until money and popularity got to his head.
The guy knew a lot and had multiple connections and friends, he was the one who helped him find a cleaner will to keep silent about everything that happened in the house after the housemaid quit due to his wife assuming that he and the maid had done something sexual in the bedroom. The woman was crying as her hair had been pulled and her face slapped by his wife.
He also had seen the lust in that friend's eyes whenever he looked at her. Even after the guy was married for over a year he still looked at another wife with lust, it was disgusting to Richard that his friend would do such a thing but as the guy had helped him with a few of his troubles he didn't just cut him away.
The message was an invite for a double date. Having just left his house and his furious wife behind (not that he would ever take her anywhere unless absolutely forced), he tried to decline, saying that his wife was a bit "busy."
[Dude, dont worry about it and just come then.]
[Won't it be awkward for your wife?]
[It doesn't matter she would just say that it is fine either way.]
[Don't leave me here with her. You have already talked with her either way it is not a problem anymore. ]
From what he remembered it seemed that it was an arranged marriage between the two. Something that was decided by their parents for the benefit of their companies. The guy absolutely hated the fact that he was pushed into this marriage and had nothing good to say about his wife but that was a goody two shoes and boring. "She lacks the wildness that I am looking for." The guy said he was drinking in a bar one time having called him to express his frustrations after an official meeting with her. "She probably doesn't know anything except how to clean dishes.â
"I would not leave the house with a babe like yours. How do you keep everything in your pants?" The guy asked too drunk from all the alcohol to be careful with his words. "You might like my fiance a lot with your uptight attitude and lack of fun. Maybe we should switch wives later. Hey, wanna wife swap one time? It would be fun~~."
He had ignored the very obvious lust in the guyâs eyes, choosing not to address it and instead steer the conversation elsewhere. In the end, between hiccups, the guy told him heâd introduce him to his future wife and insisted that he should come to the wedding.
A few days later, with the invitation in hand, he attended the wedding. There, he saw the guyâs wifeâand he was absolutely floored.
It was just a moment. A fleeting glimpse. He caught sight of her for only a second, walking toward his friend across the hall. Through the open door of the bride's room, he saw her, and he froze.
She was stunning.
He could not believe that a woman like you would become the wife of the guy. He wanted to take a step back to see you again, yet when his wife called him he was forced to start walking again not wanting to cause a scene due to her fickle pride.Â
After all, he could see you again on the walkway when the wedding starts.
But he didn't want to leave either way.
Seated on the husband's side as the music stopped hinting to the guest that it was about to start soon. He watched as his friend walked the aisle, knowing but not commenting on the dirty slutish look his wife was giving to the guy looking at him up and down and waiting for you to show up.
You arrived soon after, dressed elegantly and sophisticated holding bouquets of flowers. He noticed how pretty you were, your walk and movements were elegant and soft, a far cry to his wife who walked to call the men's attention dressed a little too revealing for the formal occasion.
Would he have married a woman like you if this wench hadnât come to destroy his life? Would he have married you if your parents and your friendâs family hadnât forced the two of you into it? If this wasnât some kind of mask, and this really was you, he wouldnât have any complaints about being stuck with you. In fact, he would have demanded itâforced it, if he could. But that wasnât how life turned out... You were not his.
The wedding soon came to an end and that was it. Legally you were tied to his friend while he was already stuck with his own problems. It wasn't fair. He just couldn't let it go as he stayed in his seat even after the end of the wedding speech as everybody started to leave to eat and dance. While his wife went to meet up with the groom he stayed where he was just thinking.
How surprised he was that he ended up meeting you so soon.
The guy had invited him to dinner a few times and he quickly understood that it was to have someone else in the group after the guy was forced by his parents to take you out a few times. But that didn't matter to him when he was finally able to talk to you, to chat with you.
When he reached the restaurant, the guy stood up after a small conversation, stating that he needed to run to the bathroom, take a call, or use some other excuse he had up his sleeve. He left the table for as long as possible only to come back near the end with maybe a lipstick on his shirt or something. And if Richardâs wife was there, the guy would start subtlety flirting with his wife, uncaring if he or his own wife was there, not that the woman herself cared.
He pitied you, as you kept on your smile even when your eyes swirled with an understanding of your place, yet at the same time, you were still so hurt. You were silent for the most part keeping to yourself.
You and he become rather close but not really, it was a kind of comradery of your situations or that was what he would like to think. Whenever you and him were left alone, rather than keep the awkward air around he would start to talk to you.
You were a little flustered at first but slowly you started to get used to talking with him. Chatting amicably as if enjoying the conversation between you and him. He also did enjoy conversing with you. No heavy topics, it wasn't business or anything to do with work but stuff like traveling, hobbies, and favorite food. The things that you would like to do if you only had the time or chance to do them.Â
You weren't loud but you were delicate, gentle, and easy to fluster too. You were polite and careful with your words but also curious asking him many questions when he talks about his own stories. You would keep all your attention on him, even if he noticed you didn't seem maybe that interested in a topic or two.
There was one time he went to your apartment, an invitation from your husband who invited him and his wife. Your place was in a high-end apartment probably paid by the family, with decorations that were chic and modern but there was also a homely feeling to the place, cleaned and cared for with love, unlike his messed up house. The smell of the house was similar to that of a fragrant laundry detergent instead of strong perfume. Just for a moment, he realized that you were the one who did all this when he saw you coming out from the kitchen unwrapping the apron you were wearing.
Just for a moment you gave him an actual vision of a home, a vision of what he wanted so much and could have had yet was taken away from him. You gave him a vision of what it would be like to have a wife who cares so much.Â
He could not help but crumble and fall.
He started to crave for you, the more he chatted with you the more he fell every night he fantasized about you in his arms. He wished... he craved for you so much that he thought he started having delusions that you were his. At night, he couldnât close his eyes without seeing you clearly in the darkness.
But you just had to break everything, you just had to slam a hammer to his dreams and fantasies just like everyone else.
"I'm sorry," you said, a sorrowful smile on your lips. "I know my husband is using you to get out of our date. I apologize for taking up your time when you're so busy. Please, Iâll make sure this doesn't happen again. You donât have to come every time he asks you to. Iâm sure youâre busy too."
Why...? Why did you say that? He thought you knew that he already understood. He thought you knew that it didnât bother him at allâespecially when you both always had such enjoyable conversations. Why did you apologize? Why would you tell him to stop coming? Why were you pushing him away?
Your eyes looked at him in sorry and guilt and it clicked you were scared you were so scared that something wrong might happen. Because in the end, you were loyal, loyal to a man who didn't even love you.
It made him livid.Â
Even if you thought you knew more than he did, he was the one who knew more. He knew well what your husband does on nights that he isn't home, where he goes, and what he does there. In Richardâs own house, he could hear the sounds of two people with familiar voices thinking they were alone.Â
His wife and your husband.
You didn't know that, while you probably knew that he partied every day you seemed to have hope that he didn't have the audacity to lay in bed with another married woman much less the wife of his own friend. He didn't care who that guy lay with, but it made him irritated that a guy like him had you.
That appointment ended up awkward. Too awkward as both of you waited for your husband to arrive. The guy knew something was up the moment he arrived but seemed to choose not to say anything having enough tack not to right at that moment when he usually didn't.
Looking at the message again he sighed declining the invite again even when the guy tried to put up a fuss. It was just that he could not face you right now, not when you made it clear that all you felt towards him was guilt.
If only it was you... if only he had found you first if that woman didn't chain herself to him using blackmail and connections.
If he could just swap his wife with you he would have been happier... he would have the life he wished he had and he would spoil you with all his love and time. While you would wait oh so lovingly for him while cooking and cleaning while he worked to bring the money to keep you happy materially. He would be a better husband than your own and he already knew that you would be a far more better wife than his own.
But you just had to draw that line. That line of law and morality.
Watching the road as he drove, he could not help but let annoyance fester him at this whole situation till he saw a poster pass by him. Purple with a familiar design that he saw just this morning. Something to do with a certain fortune teller who knew a little too much and who gave him a small vial.
Truthfully he didn't believe in such things, but part of him had become so desperate that he just could not think straight. He was desperate and he knew that the old woman knew that and was laughing at him for it.
"Here yah go. This is a little something that would have cost a shit ton but I am gonna give it to you for free." The old woman cackled, she was having way too much fun knowing his situation. "If you plan to add this to a drink don't worry about the colour at all."
He didn't believe in such things. But there was a whisper in his mind a little spell in his brain that told him that this would work. That there was something different about that mad woman who probably lived only in entertainment.
His hand moved before he could even think about it, accepting the dinner invitation as he finally reached his office. It was supposed to be closed, but a few employees were pulling an all-nighter, so the building wasn't locked. In his mind, all he could think about was the life he once dreamed ofâthe life that had been taken away from him. All he wanted was a life with you, and that thingâthat vialâwould be the answer to all his problems.
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#tw yandere#yandere#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere original character#yandere oc#yandere oc x you#yandere oc x reader#yandere dilf#yandere blog#yandere oneshot#yandere concept#yandere writing#male yandere#fem reader#obsessive love#possesive love#body swap
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Even If It Kills Me Pt 2
TF Armada Starscream x Reader
⢠Primus, help him, because the sound you make when he does finally manage to catch you almost makes him immediately drop you. Screaming your little head off as the Mini-Cons flinch away, chirping and upset by the noise. But as he lifts you to optic level, you give up and fall silent. Those eyes are defiant when they meet his glare head on. âSo is this where you crush me like a bug?â You ask, and venting raggedly, he doesnât know what to make of you. Afraid of him, but so blunt. Almost like you fully expect him to hurt you. Like youâre used to it and resigned that itâs your lot. And staring at that discoloration around your eye, it clicks. Heâs seen that on the human kids before. A bruise.
⢠That uncannily human face is frowning at you, huge servos warm where theyâre wrapped around you. But not gripping you so tight you canât breathe. Not breaking ribs even though he easily could. Which means you might get out of this unscathed, though given your track record, you doubt it. Hope is something for other people. âHumans arenât supposed to know weâre here,â he says before looking down at the little robot that had wandered up to you first and his servos flex against you. Youâre not sure if he can understand the little guyâs beeping, but he suddenly vents hard enough warm air stirs your hair. Laying your palms on his hand, you wonder what heâll do to keep his existence secret.
⢠âWill it be quick?â You ask and he freezes, because youâre staring at him, expression oddly blank. And he understands that emptiness, of knowing that pain is coming for you no matter what you do. You took his words and assumed heâd end you to protect himself. No arguing or pleading, just tired acceptance, too broken to resist. Too beaten to even think about fighting.
⢠Optics narrowing at you, you wait for it to come. Honestly itâs kind of funny, youâd just assumed he would be the one to put you in the ground eventually. Never expected this, though. If thereâs any justice in the world, your death will still get pinned on him. He can spend the rest of his life sober and caged like an animal. One last act of spiteful rebellion against him. And you are laughing now, crying and coming apart all at once. âPrimus,â the monster growls.
⢠Completely at a loss, he looks down at the Mini-Cons then at the human wheezing and sobbing and laughing like a mad thing in his grip. Much more broken than heâd thought. How much further could Megatron have pushed him until this was him? Cautiously, he runs a servo against your hair. Reaching out to you like the kids had reached out to him. And when you touch his servo with a trembling hand, youâre still crying as you look up at him and he knows he canât just leave you here even if he wasnât under orders to not be seen.
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I caved and finally replaced my old Wacom tablet so I can remind myself that no, I cannot in fact draw
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Another thing I'll add here is something that I was coincidentally discussing with a friend yesterday: this kind of issue can only be solved if our science education (and I'm talking BOTH Natural Sciences and Humanities) doesn't rely on teachers being simply a source of "correct" information.
I put "correct" in quotes because guys. GUYS. I was in a comitee for quality control of kids science textbooks (ages 11-14), and Jesus Christ. It was a book written in the Year of Our Lord 2022 and it had a SLUR as an "alternative name" to Down Syndrome. Not to mention information that was BLATANT WRONG when you as much as googled the legal definition of a certain thing, and much much more. We obviously bombed it, but there's the kicker: the only thing our ban ensured is that this textbook collection is out of question for Brazilian public schools. Private schools can use it, if they want to.
Which means that even schools can and, as much as we try, will spread misinformation, even if it's in a small scale. The teacher in the Twitter thread very astutely identified it as a crisis of authority. If education is just a matter of relaying "correct facts", it all comes down to a matter of authority. And the poor teacher feels hopeless because she can't even say, in good faith, that her word is inherently better than ChatGPT or Wikipedia or TikTok because, guess what, she could be wrong. There's no such thing as infallible authority.
There's only one solution, one that Education Scientists (which ARE a thing, I'm one of them!) have been saying since, I dunno, THE 18TH CENTURY: giving kids an education centered in DOING science, not memorizing its products. The teacher started amazingly by asking the kid to "look it up" in front of her. But what she COULD have done, if prepared for this kind of challenge (I obviously don't fault her for freezing when confronted by something for the first time) was to ask for the notebook or cellphone and show the student what she meant by "look it up" and how the results vary. And tell him that NO single source should be trusted, either her or ChatGPT, and when sources disagree, what should be the tiebreaker?
In other words, the only antidote is showing the kids HOW science is done, HOW you arrive at conclusions, and HOW documental research is done. Science isn't something that Very Smart Geniuses do in their ivory towers to create The Truth. It's science, not a sacred religious ministery. Science is mundane, messy, controversial, and everyone* can do it with a bit of training, just like everyone* can cook or sing or draw with the proper training. [*"everyone", of course, being a rethorical generalization; obviously there are circunstances in which people might NOT be able to do it, or might need especialized assistance that others don't need, but those are the exceptions, not the rule.]
The main reason why our education is stuck in memorization and trying to out-authority the internet has a name: Standard Testing.
It's LEAGUES easier to test for how many facts someone can spew exclusively from memory (you just need a multiple choice test that can be graded by a machine) than it is to test students for their ability of create, research and communicate knowledge (the current optimal way to do it is the whole process of writing a monography/dissertation/thesis).
The whole EVALUATION system holds us down WAY more than the teaching methods themselves, because when you are teaching scientific abilities, you WON'T be sparing time to ensure that all your students are commiting definitions and formulas to mind. At the VERY least, tests should allow students to search for the info they need: this alone already demonstrate that student's ability to research, compare and choose correct information.
The idea that you can compare kids by a test that quantifies the amount of information they have on their heads, and that once they perform well on a test, that info is certified as correct and true is RIDICULOUS. Information on the brain degrades with time, unless you need it constantly. And people who grade tests are human, humans can be wrong. The accepted answer in a test can be wrong.
But we have to maintain the illusion that we can OBJECTIVELY rank students, schools, school systems and nations on how much knowledge they have. Otherwise, how investors will be reassured that they are "top quality"? How private education businesses can boast that they are "the best", thus justifying their price tag? How international banks will "ensure" that the amount of money countries are investing in education are being "correctly spent" (instead of being used to repay them)?
Soooo... ChatGPT is only the tip of the iceberg. There ARE ways for us to solve that problem, there HAS been ways for it since the 18th FREAKING century. But as long as they don't make the money people happy, as long as we expect school knowledge to take the form of a standard list of memorized correct info, we will still be ineffectively fighting the robots.
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having such a normal time about how edwin and charlesâ most unimaginable thing is the other one hurting. itâs an expression of deep and abiding love that they would want to prevent the otherâs hurt at all costs and that the otherâs pain hurts them almost seemingly worse even than their own. itâs such a show of unconditional devotion to a loved one, that i think is rarely shown to such a visceral degree.
and in particular it really gets to me the depth of love that edwin has for charles.
i always come back to the scene on the clifftop. (GIFs by the lovely @mellxncollie â¤ď¸)
edwin looks so pained here, and it looks as if for edwin itâs not even so much pain because charles is saying something that hurts him, itâs that charles is so clearly hurting in even saying this, and it hurts edwin in turn that he canât help that. that charles should ever have to hurt at all.
and in a moment, he will approach charles with total compassion, crouch down to his level in a parallel to the attic acene and i shanât hurt you.
edwin has been uncomfortable with displays of emotion before in a âthis amount of emotion makes ME uncomfortable, please put it awayâ way and this is not that. this is âthis emotion makes me uncomfortable because the world shouldnât hurt you like thisâ and in a way that is about him only to the extent that edwin is probably wishing he could make it so no one had ever hurt charles ever and charles never felt an ounce of pain. and it raises up this massive helplessness that comes up when the world is unfair to your beloved, because there is simply a wrongness to it.
(thinking also about how upset and angry edwin is at the injustice of their deaths, but specifically about charlesâs as well, in the butcher shop scene, how insistent he is that the injustice has to matter somehow, otherwise itâs senseless and awful and he canât bear knowing that not only he himself, but especially charles, was hurt the way he was. and the love in having someone be angry for you, someone fight for you to be important, the fact that maybe no one before edwin had ever been mad on charlesâ behalf like that before, the thought of charles suffering hadnât been something for others to hurt over. but now it is because edwin takes on the role of making sure charles knows he matters.)
the sadness in edwinâs face, in his eyes â heartbreak that he cannot unmake the source of charlesâ pain. that charles doesnât see how unaccountably good he is and how separate he is from his fatherâs view of him, how he will never be like that man. heâs looking at charles and he just sees this beautiful, brave, resilient, incandescently vibrant, deeply loving person who has been lighting up every day of edwinâs afterlife, despite everything. despite all the things edwin likely perceives as making him intolerable and difficult â edwinâs stiffness, his obstinacy, his melancholy, his prickly and strange demeanor, his million idiosyncrasies and foibles which charles accepts and celebrates as part of him. and the idea that charles should be sad or hurt and edwin not have the capacity to ease it, to assuage it, is unthinkably awful.
and that is so specific to loving someone without condition or end or limitation, in selflessness. and so specific to like. exactly a type of love charles (as an inveterate smoother-over, people pleaser, worrier over other peopleâs comfort and emotions) needs in order to feel actually loved. edwin doesnât need him to change his emotion or put it away or temper it (or anything about himself).
edwin just loves charles unconditionally, compassionately, intensely, entirely and i think itâs so beautiful.
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Scar and Grian both..struggle..with emotional intelligence sometimes.
Grian is a caretaker, he's inconsolably dedicated to the people around him, and he's never fully comfortable unless he's helping to take care of someone. Grian shows a lot of love through action, but his words are often a different story. He can be snippy, critical, worry portrayed through harsh words. Communicating his emotions is something Grian has always struggled with. He can't say he loves someone, but he'll help them set a trap, or give them his armor, or yell at them for getting themself hurt. That's pretty much all the emotional communication he can manage.
Scar, on the other hand, seems like he has no trouble talking. He's a very friendly and charming person, who will often tell you upfront how he feels. With that being said, Scar has his own brand of trouble when it comes to emotional intelligence. That stemming from the fact that Scar can be, for lack of a better word, self centered. Not necessarily for lack of caring, but because he's a very independent person who sometimes struggles to see perspectives that aren't his own, and he can disregard other people's feelings because of it with Scar misreading their emotions, or assuming they'll "come around" to his side.
This can cause clash between their personalities.
Scar is strong willed and makes up his own mind about things, he sometimes sees Grian's worry as inconsequential or frivolous. Many times Scar will disregard things Grian says under the assumption that he's just nagging for the sake of nagging or will get over it or even that he knows what Grian needs better than Grian does, which can leave Grian feeling tired, annoyed, and even more worried about Scar too, because it seems Scar either doesn't listen to anything he says, or doesn't care enough to take his thoughts into account, and Scar, meanwhile, is left similarly frustrated because he feels like Grian gives mixed signals, doesn't trust him, or just wants to fight.
Of course, while they both struggle with emotional intelligence and communication on a lot of levels, they have little ways of communicating that work for them when it really matters, games and signals, ways to let the other know that, even if they don't always understand each other, they love each other, they make each other happy, and neither of them are going anywhere long term.
#trafficblr#traffic smp#grian#goodtimeswithscar#desert duo#i'm walking on sunshine#the earth keeps turning#reese's cups
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thinking about the âsingle-plank bridgeâ and how wei wuxianâs circumstance becomes all the more heartbreaking when we contexualise the kind of person he is. wei wuxian is never shown to be an isolated entity from the very start of his story. even when he lived on the streets, he had a way of connecting with those around him and wheedling shopkeepers into maintaining his daily sustenance. quickly after he came to lotus pier, he formed bonds with jc and yanli. wei wuxian was genuinely interested in people and forging friendships with those he liked. his junior disciples loved him. he was canonically one of the most popular young guys in the cultivation society. he frequently interacted with the common folk in yunmeng or anywhere else he happened to visit. at the guest lectures in the lan sect, wei wuxian was able to inspire multiple disciples (not just nie huaisang) into following his shenanigans. he is also able to befriend some of the wens, prime among them are ofc wen qing and wen ning. for a story as heavy in interpersonal conflicts as mdzs is, it is a given that people and their relationships will be centre stage and wei wuxian isnât in the least lacking in these relationships. we see this even after his reincarnation that wei wuxian, even when he tries to stay disconnected, forms new bonds with ease. the juniors that are first wary of him soon come to deeply admire him and wei wuxian in turn becomes protective over them.
in short, wei wuxian is defined by his relationships as much as he is by his actions and convictions and thoughts. never once are we made to believe that wei wuxianâs ideal choice would be the âsingle plank bridgeâ, that he would be completely at ease with his isolation, that he would ever want to pick that option as a preference. in fact, the single plank bridge ideology has never been one that wei wuxian is shown to inherently gravitate towards or recommend/preach to other people. but that ideology is a last resort.
it is a choice made when his hand is forced, when no other comfortable option is allowed to him, when every door is shut in his face and isolating himself from the people he has known is the only avenue left with him. the single plank bridge is about sticking to his beliefs and not giving up, about doing the right thing no matter what because someone needs to take that stand and wei wuxian has never not been that someone.
i think that it is so crucial that the single plank bridge wasnât so much a choice that wei wuxian made than a choice that was made for him simply because he refused to give up on the wens.
he was denied alternatives. he was denied help. sometimes, the anti-culture discourse overcorrects itself into painting every heroic act that happens to be sacrificial as a default âhero complexâ and self-sacrifical tendencies, ignoring the build-up of those difficult decisions and how, in this story, in mdzs, wei wuxian wasnât foregoing the crowded broad road but that the crowd on the broad road had foregone him.
#and while i like the idea that ultimately wei wuxian walked the bridge with the wens#it doesnât work the same way because standing up for oneself and standing up for someone else is different#im glad wwx and the wens accepted each other but the cost of it was deeply felt#smth to be said about how the burial mounds represent not togetherness but isolation in the eyes of everyone outside them#this is much more scatterbrained and rambly than usual buuuutt i had the brain worm wiggling about and i got it out#wei wuxian appreciation#wei wuxian meta#wei wuixan#mdzs meta#mdzs fandom#mxtx mdzs#mdzs#jiang yanli#canon jiang cheng#nie huaisang
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Hiii! Could you write a one shot with both Caracalla and Geta? The idea is that the reader is their favorite concubine (or legit their wife idk if that's how it works lmfaooo) but she's a witch? Like she's an oracle or something, they keep her around because she brings them luck and what not (they also kinda love her but they're both insane so...)
No worries if you don't want to write this!
The oracle of the emperors
Geta/Caracalla x witch!reader
warning : hurt/comfort, power inequality, kissing, mention of smut (light smutish), family issues
Summary : In times of war, one had to resort to everything, be it rationing, ambushes, burning or fetching the walking omniscient shadow from the alleys of Rome. An oracle surrounded the two emperors and was so much more to them than just a surrogate for the gods.
info : I love the idea, almost an au in Gladiator (maybe more someday) thanks for the request and have fun reading :)
masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rome was a world city, an empire for decades no for centuries, it would outlast all time. Everything would fall to make way for the glorious holy roman empire and no one would stop it, no country, no army, you just had to keep conquering and conquering.
An idea, a thought, a dream that had burned itself into the minds of the two emperors - they wanted more, had to and needed more. The reign of Geta and Caracalla was to be glorious, but the body cannot bear what the mind dreams of, especially not when its own warlord threatens to withdraw.
You can't keep a man from dying for a lifetime without risking his downfall, a fact that the two also saw...but if the fighting force failed, what could be done to win more easily and quickly?
Gods, oracles and witches, the supernatural, that which could see more than only man could see.
Since the conquests, the oracles had only predicted victories, but why did more and more bases go under, why did the harvests come to an end and why did the emperor's gold seem to dwindle?
Wrong answers were punished with death and the temples remained mostly empty, the only thing that was known to help was the shadow of Rome, the woman who was found before she was even looked for.
Her figure emerged from the streets wrapped in the dark fabric, the rustling of the small bones in her pouch accompanying her as the people looked at her in awe, as much as she was feared she was revered, ,,The sound of water will bring you a poet, just as these bones of death brought me to you...my honorable emperorsâ she greeted them as she came up the stairs to the palace and saw the golden gods in human form.
Of one she had dreamed his gold would cover the Senate like blood that would not stop flowing and the other she had seen an agonizing spirit that would perish along with all of Rome.
,,You will be placed in our service, no harm shall come to you as long as your words are of use to us,â Geta assured her as he showed her a bedchamber larger than anything she had ever had and still needed some work, for as much as she saw and heard them all, she knew how to interpret the looks in their eyes.
And the looks of the brothers were full of desire.
After a very short time she was surrounded only by the two of them, hardly any other servants or concubines, the campaign was victorious as she had predicted, but her warning also came true.
It only took a full moon for the âpoetâ to arrive inside the palace and she saw the amused look on Caracalla's face as he grabbed her hand, ,,You predicted it!â he said, and his brother looked at her, a look she took as respect.
When they were with the brothers during the day, she was with Geta, his hand at her side, the human god who wanted to be closer to Olympus through her, ,,You belong to me, here, in the Senate and out there,â he reminded her whenever they took up political matters.
Dark eyes with make-up looked at her whenever she moved the figures on the map, whenever she whispered her proposal to him in the senate and when he drew her to his bedchamber.
Why should she say no? Even a fool would have slept with the most powerful man whose voice was almost as intoxicating as his body, his kiss intense he wanted this power she had, his gold soon adorning her too, gifts in the hope that she would stay with him, touches of lust, he desired her power and beauty until the day she asked the question.
The fire turned bluish and she heard the cry of a monkey asking him, ,,You speak of belonging but this mine, is it none of your brother the Emperor Caracalla's concern?" a question that drove him from her, his face became incredulous and she saw the disbelief in his eyes.
He felt betrayed.
A betrayal she thought he would spear away, but her last prediction that this mine would mean his end must have frightened him, frightened and almost more God-given.
The gifts of gem and gold he made sure she wore, as much as he tried to hold it back she belonged to one god and not two at the same time.
Geta would spend hours in the temples, making people feel at ease and being addressed as a god. it was during these days and weeks that the monkey Dundus would often run up to her and she would see the uncertain look on Caracalla's face.
As much as he was fascinated, he was also afraid of her, ,,Witches are a bad omen...but you helped us,â the younger one said as he ventured into her room and watched, curious about what she was doing there.
Instead of luring him with physical devotion like his brother, she put a motherly smile on her lips, ,,Look even I can make fruit danceâ she lured him and he sat down on her chair while she instructed him to close his eyes, she mixed a few simple tinctures and dripped them on the grapes.
A simple reaction of plants, but for Caracalla, who clapped his hands in delight, it was worth almost as much as the whole of Rome, ,,You see, I can't be angry at all, my sweet king,â she murmured to him and hugged him carefully, an embrace he wanted more and more from then on. during the day she belonged to Geta, who soon ignored her warning.
Why listen to a witch when he was a god? The jewelry covered her body, his love visible on her body and at night she took care of the younger one, so much pain and suffering as she held him like a child who would soon take advantage of her when his madness took over, ,,His gold, his jewelry but you're mine, aren't you? I need you alone, not shared,â he ordered, fingers clutching hers helplessly.
A question she answered with a kiss and the game between the two emperors continued to grow daily. The bones in her bowl became more and more when she made new predictions and she went from a god to a delusional one whenever one of them needed her.
Gold and make-up adorned her body and whenever Geta and Caracalla met it seemed as if Rome was on the verge of collapse.
In the midst of this they stood, the most influential authority taking on the two emperors while Rome changed around them, brothers not seeing that the shadow had closed in around them when the first thought had fallen upon them.
She felt at home in the madness of the two and the threads that held everything together, because no one could separate such a love. Yet to everyone else outside the palace she was nothing more than the concubine of the brothers Emperor Geta and Caracalla.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#gladiator ii#gladiator 2#emperor geta#emperor caracalla#emperor geta x reader#emperor caracalla x reader#male x female#reader is female
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âĄHis Brother's Bride - Felix
MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY MEMBERSHIP//M.LIST
pairing: old money! Felix x fem! reader
summary: You're to be married to a respectable, eligible bachelor to bring your two families businesses together. But what happens when you fall for the brother instead?
warnings: none really! Lots of fluff, some angst.
a/n: this is a shorter one I'm sorry! I'm still getting back into the swing of things. But I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope it shows :)
There was a lull in the conversation. A moment of silence. And that was all it took for Felix to move in closer. Closer than a friend would stand. Close like a lover, his hands came up and around your sides. His fingers traced the intricate pearls that lined the corset of your wedding dress. You held your breath while his hands continued their journey up your spine. Each passing second he was bringing you in closer and closer.
âDon't marry him.â
Your eyes trailed across his tailor made suit, soaking in every detail of the expensive tuxedo your husband-to-be had picked out for his best man. A matching suit with his brother. Why did it have to be his brother? Your father owned one of the largest wineries in the state. The only other one that even compared belonged to Felix's family. It will be good for business. Your father declared very matter-of-fact one evening at the dinner table. You would marry the eldest son of the rival company and the two wineries would merge into one giant, money-making machine of capitalism and greed. You knew the boy your father spoke of. An eligible bachelor that was handsome and worldly. But you wanted to know more. So you hatched a plan to learn as much as you could about your new fiance. When your family and his would come together to meet and agree on the fine print, you would disguise yourself as someone unassuming and blend into the crowd.Â
The dinner party was a shitty mask for what was really happening. Two rich old men were about to get a hell of a lot richer. You made your way across the room and spotted a well dressed man standing alone. He had long, blonde hair and freckles splayed across his cheeks and nose. He smiled politely at a man walking by and your heart jumped for a moment.
âHow's the food?â You asked, sidling up next to him.
The man paused and turned to face you. That warm smile returned but more sincere this time. âEh. Rich people have no taste, ya know?â He scoffed and pointed over to the dinner table adorned with food that looked delicious but you knew from experience that that was far from the truth.
You held in a loud laugh that came out as a snort. âSo this isn't your first dinner party then.â You teased, nudging his arm slightly and trying to ignore the obvious muscle underneath the expensive suit.
The two of you talked for the better part of an hour. You gave him a fake name and told him you were some distant cousin from across the water. He didn't pry, accepting your lie as fact almost immediately. He told you his name as well. The sound of it seemed to ring in your ears like the bells of a church. Then he told you his brother was getting married. An arranged marriage. He was getting fitted for a tuxedo just next week. You swallowed hard at the sound of arranged marriage. The words echoed coldly.
âWhat's he like- your brother?â You moved in close, your head cocked to the side casually.
Felix stepped back for a minute and looked across the room at where his brother was standing. His mouth quickly curled up into a warm, affectionate smile. âHe's great. He's going to take great care of his new bride.â You sighed heavily. Your hand falling back onto the table while you let your shoulders relax. âGood.â You said curtly.
Felix tilts his head in confusion. His lips part for a moment as if he wants to ask you more but instead he stops and hands you a glass of wine from the table beside you. He holds it out to you, his fingers brushing against yours as you take it. A spark of electricity seems to pass between you at the touch, and he lingers for a moment before pulling back. You hold the wine tight in your hand hoping that the feeling of the cold glass will ground you and keep you from floating away. For a moment, neither of you say a word. But your eyes are screaming into his while a string quartet fills the silence between you. Felix moves on instinct, his body closing the gap as your lips inch closer to one another. You part your lips and crane your neck, all sense of social etiquette left somewhere on the other side of the world. Then an ear-splitting sound pierces through the euphoria as your father calls for you to join him. Felix's eyes shoot open as he connects the dots with who you really are. âYou're the one my brother is marrying?â His voice is full of pain and betrayal. You want to apologize and tell him you can explain but your father shouts again and you follow him into his study, leaving Felix standing alone again. The smudge of your lipstick still lingering on the edge of the wine glass.
âToday is the big day! Are you excited?â Your mother buzzed around you while two women pinned your hair back tight. âJust thrilled.â You groaned back. Your mother rolled her eyes and poured herself another glass of champagne. You waited until everyone had left you alone to finish getting ready before you made your way outside onto the grass. You struggled to lift your dress and run at the same time, tripping and tumbling slightly as you moved. You just need air. You needed to breathe. To take stock of what was about to happen. What was about to happen?
âAre we running away?â A deep voice hummed from behind you. You twirled around to see Felix standing there with a playful smirk. âJust say the word and I'll start the car.â He had his hands in his pockets but he lifted his chin up towards the cars parked nearby. You smile softly. A sad, desperate laugh escapes your throat. âSounds good. We'll be runaways together.â You whisper back, your face hanging low. Felix gently lifts your chin, bringing your face to his. âAs long as we're together.â
A moment of silence. A second alone. You could feel the heat coming from Felix's body as he leaned in. Your eyes glance at his lips and then to his eyes. His hand dragging from your chin down to the back of your neck. âBefore you say âI doâ, I want to kiss you first.â Your eyes flutter closed, and he parts his lips slightly. He leans in the rest of the way, pressing his mouth to yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He pulls back after a moment, his breath hitching as he looks at you, his eyes filled with love and affection. You pull him in again without warning, kissing him deeper. A marking kiss telling him that he was the first. That your lips belonged to him.
taglist: @simply-trash5 @sugawhaaa @trixiekaulitz @chrizzztopherbang @cassidymb121 @roanns-posts @staysinbloom @yaorzu-blog @bubblebisk @cotton-candycloudz @beautyinhypnosis @domicaru @strawberry31 @slxtmeri @newhope8 @tinyelfperson @dandelions-143 @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @msauthor @fun-fanfics @ell0thebell @stephanieeeyang @juskz @kimahreummm @readr1221 @kayleefriedchicken @ovulatingrn @hwnglixho @darthmaddie25 @queen-in-the-shadows @itgirlalisaa @miinhoo @greyaia @chanchansgirly @skzleeknowcore @skz-smut-reader @thatisrankharry @hearts4yawnzzn @jchotch726 @cherricola-star @minh0scat
#stray kids#skz x reader#stray kids fluff#felix x reader#felix scenarios#felix drabble#felix lee#lee felix#felix fluff#skz fluff#skz scenarios#skz imagines#skz smut#stray kids smut#skz drabbles#felix smut#skz felix#stray kids felix#felix hard thoughts#felix hard hours#stray kids hard thoughts#stray kids hard hours#stray kids drabbles#stray kids imagines#stray kids series#stray kids scenarios#skz stay#skz#felix skz#skz fanfic
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Does Emilio have his signature spell? If so, what does it do?
Of COURSE he does. AND SORRY ABOUT THE WALL OF TEXT.
Emilioâs signature spell/unique magic:
âThis is Trueâ
Allows him to truthfully answer almost any question asked of him about the person asking. He functions as something of an oracle.
While it grants Emilio a level of all-knowingness, it is limited in scope with many stipulations.
⢠âThis is Trueâ can only provide answers that relate to the person asking, not about anyone else nor matters outside of the person asking. So, he isnât exactly useful in terms of trying to get dirt on others via his magic. He cannot do that. And he canât ask the questions.
⢠There must be physical contact with him and the person asking the question. Palm-to-palm is his go-to, but it doesnât seem to matter.
⢠Emilioâs magic will not allow him to hide the truth once he has received a proper answer to a question, whether he or the receiver likes the answer or not.
⢠A person can as ask as many questions about their past and present as they like (within reason, obviously not in a single round). It will always be true. He can tell you things about yourself that you may have forgotten about like a memory, or where you left your keys. Whatever one can think of so long as itâs about themselves.
⢠A person may ask about their future, but they only can ask one question and receive one answer. Once someone ask a question about their future in any capacity they cannot ask Emilio any question about their future ever again. Period. So donât waste it, or donât ask. The future is far too uncertain, but his answer will always be a true one out of many possibilities. Besides, he doesnât like doing it!!
It is currently unknown how much his magic will evolve, if at all. The limited scope makes his magic accumulate little blot, though it can accumulate much faster if itâs about the future. Yay for caps.
Note: The spell name is Estebanâs catchphrase. Emilioâs magic inspiration is primarily derived from Estebanâs habit of warning people and predicting events that nobody around him heeds, and usually being right. In Elena of Avalor, that kinda sets off his weird betrayal flip-flopping villain arc he never commits to. Emilioâs magic also doubles as a reference to the Oracle in Aladdin and The King of Thieves which I only realized after the fact. Neat.
#cozy ask#twstposting#probably cant answer anything outside of a humans lifespan if its about the past#so no deep fae or silver lore for him.#and no prefect lore either. they are not from twst :(#and cant answer questions from grim either for reasons he doesnt know. bruh is also an anomaly#not unless its the present.#so i guess to anyone else heâs a shitty oracle.#emilio estrada alvarez#twst oc#and no bruno jokes he is not that.
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r.e. with johnny banging one of his maids
what's the breaking point or final straw that makes the maid finally snap and make the decision to leave soap? or, maybe even the point just before the decision is made?
-- đ
Omg my first anon who signs their name! Welcome! Enjoy this angsty piece! Following the revelation that she is not the only one Johnny sees in the duchy, she does her best to limit her time with him. The thought of him touching her makes her skin crawl, makes her stomach curdle over the memory of him holding the other maid so tightly to him (the way he held her, how many more are there-). However, she also knows she cannot avoid him entirely, cannot retreat fully as he is still her employer, a fact seared into the forefront of her mind now when it should have been when this all started. She tries not to show her discomfort when he leans into her space, as she can now smell the perfumes of other women on his skin, can see his plump mouth most likely having kissed another before coming to her. She wonders if he even bothered to wash himself between, or if the hands he touches her with are still coated in the consequences of his actions. There's no comfort in his concern over her, him spending more and more time as the days go by to coax her into telling him what's the matter, is someone bothering her? He'll make it all go away for his sweet little maid, his favorite. He winks as he says their inside joke; bile creeps up her throat at the knowledge the joke is on her and always has been. She just manages to kiss him, brushing off anything further with a variety of excuses: She isn't feeling well, there is so much she has to do, a guest is due shortly. She even uses the tried and true 'I am unclean' excuse, face flushed as she looks down, desperate for him to believe it even though the stress of the situation she has found herself in has put it off for the forseeable future. Every time she feels her heart lurch over the sight of him, her stomach lurches as well. It's a struggle for her to keep food down, constantly envisioning the man she loves with other women. The knowledge he would have to wed someone of his station had always loomed over her, the thought of him forsaking his reputation due to being in love with her a fantasy she only indulges in when she lays down for bed. These days the thought brings more cruelty than comfort, and it's resulted in her stumbling from bed to heave up the meager portion of dinner that she manages to eat. The other staff notice how there seems to be an air of illness about her, her face paler than before, eyes red-rimmed at times, the dazed look she gets when she thinks no one is watching. The cooks especially take note of it, see how she struggles to keep food down, how she picks at her plate unless it's the blandest of soup or a portion of fruit. The head cook, a stern woman who runs the kitchen efficiently and while putting the fear of God into those who test her, has rubbed her back alongside the head maid more times than not when she hangs her head in the toilet. "I swear lass, you heave more than an expecting mother. Duke MacTavish ought to call in the doctor and have you seen to already, before you waste away!" If her eyes weren't blinded by tears, they would be wide open in horror. The vomiting, the missed days, the sleeping... All caused by stress yes but... Is there anything more stressful than carrying a new life inside of you? Particularly one born of such circumstances? Her breathing picks up, the last of the bile coughed out while her mind races, the thought growing more and more sure as she thinks back to the days when she and Johnny had gone further than they ever should have. The best case scenario is people assuming she is a loose woman; a random unnamed man being the father and her child being a bastard. The possibility to spin it as her being taken advantage of by a man who was passing through town is there, not likely to work but still an option. The worst case though? The scandal of bearing a Duke's bastard, of having lain in her employer's bed? All of them would be ruined.
The head maid sends her to bed to ensure she doesn't get anyone else sick with whatever she has. She lays in her bed, hand shakily pressed over her stomach, watery eyes fixed on the ceiling while she bites her lip to keep from sobbing. She has to get out, even if there is no child inside her. Things have crossed a line and she's clawing at it to let her back on the other side. This was doomed from the start, and this needs to end before this becomes a choice she can't take back. There has been recent gossip of the Baron of the woods returning, of him needing new staff due to several of his retiring from age. No connections to Duke MacTavish, a place out of the eyes of society, a man who does not partake in the prodding of other's status. It appears she will need to find a way to visit the Baron's home discretely. Soon.
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between the ride and the roses (5)
Pairing:Â Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags:Â biker/ motorcycle shop owner! jungkook x flower shop owner! reader, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, slow burn, angst, smut, fluff
Word count:Â 5.8k
Series summary:Â There's an insane turn of events when your calm and peaceful life is intruded by Jungkook, a biker boy who sets up his loud business right next to your own. Your paths cross under unlikely circumstances, starting with a clash of personalities but gradually you find yourself establishing a deeper connection with the annoyingly attractive biker jerk. You both have no idea what's in store for you guys as you try your best to put up with each other.
Chapter Warnings:Â mature language, mentions of an injury, jungkook is drowning in the sea of denial, heavy angst, misunderstandings, disagreements
A/N: well, i don't have much to say about this chapter. however, i am making a taglist, so please let me know if you want to be added <3 thank u for making it this far into the series, stay tuned for more !!
part 5: gears and vines of tension
You absently twirl the ramen in your bowl, your chopsticks moving in slow, deliberate circles as a heavy sigh slips past your lips. The warm steam rises from the broth, but it does little to soothe the tight knot forming in your chest.
Just an hour ago, the townhall meeting about the town fair ended, and now you find yourself seated at a small booth in a Japanese restaurant just around the corner, surrounded by your friends who, as usual, are keenly aware of what's going on in your mind..
You try to focus on the food, the familiar scent of miso and soy sauce, but your mind keeps drifting back to one thought: Jungkook. The idea of working with him for the fair that is set to happen two months from now, has lodged itself in your brain, and you canât shake it off. Of all the people in this town, it had to be him, the one person who managed to make your blood boil with nothing more than a glance.
It's almost amusingly comical, if it werenât so frustrating. The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of humor, and today, it has decided that you must work side-by-side with him, out of all people.
The sheer irony of it... the fact that you, someone who prides yourself on peace, order, and avoiding conflict at all costs, are now paired with Jungkook for something as important as the town fair. It gnaws at you.
You feel your grip on the chopsticks tighten, the wood digging into your palms as you try to concentrate on anything other than the growing sense of dread in the pit of your stomach. But no matter how hard you try, you canât escape the reality that youâll have to spend an extended period of time with him, and that thought alone is enough to make you want to scream.
From across the table, your friends are watching you with knowing glances, their eyes flickering back and forth between you and the others. They know exactly whatâs going on in your mind, and judging by the subtle smirks on their faces, theyâre enjoying this more than they probably should.
Taehyung leans forward, a grin spreading across his face as he watches you with a mischievous gleam in his eye. âTeaming up with Jungkook for the fair? Oh, this is gonna be good.â he teases, the amusement practically oozing from his words. His grin grows wider as he waits for your response, clearly relishing your discomfort.
Seokjin chimes in next, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. âI never thought Iâd see the day youâd have to cooperate with the infamous biker boy. Whatâs next? You two finally getting along?â His eyebrows rise dramatically as he leans back, laughing.
You slump further into your chair, your fingers still gripping the chopsticks so tightly that you feel like you might snap them in half. A tired sigh escapes your lips. âI highly doubt it.â you mutter under your breath, your frustration clear in your tone.
âItâs bad enough Iâm stuck with him for the fair, but do I have to hear this from you guys too?â You look up at your friends, meeting their teasing eyes with a halfhearted glare, but itâs impossible to stay mad at them for long. Theyâre enjoying this too much, and you canât help but feel like the punchline of some inside joke.
âCome on, Y/N...â Namjoon says, his voice soft and rational, like heâs trying to calm you down. âYou two have history, right? Maybe this is a good chance to... I donât know, put the past behind you??â he suggests.
You shake your head almost immediately, a quiet laugh escaping you. âItâs not that simple.â you reply quickly, the words tumbling out without thinking.
âWe donât get along, Joon. This isnât some... rom-com where we magically start clicking after a few awkward encounters. This is real life. And in real life, I canât just forget about everything thatâs happened between us.â you pause, taking a deep breath.
âSure, sure,â Juwon adds with a teasing smile, her tone a little too playful. âJust donât kill him before the fair is over, okay?â She laughs, but thereâs an edge of genuine curiosity in her voice. She's not sure whether youâre joking or not.
You roll your eyes, half-annoyed and half-amused. âWouldnât dream of it.â you reply dryly, your voice thick with sarcasm. But even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your thoughts slipping into darker territory.
The teasing continues as your friends rally around you, throwing playful jabs and remarks that only seem to make things worse. Itâs hard to stay angry at them when they genuinely believe thereâs some kind of positive outcome buried somewhere in this mess.
They see the potential for you and Jungkook to patch things up, and while part of you knows they mean well, another part of you canât shake the nagging feeling that this situation is just a train wreck waiting to happen.
You might not be as optimistic as they are, but theyâre all so convinced something good could come out of this, and it makes your frustration feel even more intense.
//
Jungkook, on the other hand, feels just as conflicted, though heâd never admit it. The whole town fair situation is just another annoying obstacle in his otherwise meticulously curated routine.
Heâs not keen on the idea of working with you, at all. In fact, the very thought gnaws at him, like a thorn embedded deep inside, constantly prodding at his sense of control.
Heâs already juggling a whirlwind of emotionsâfeelings he doesnât fully understand, confusions heâs too afraid to face. And if that wasnât difficult enough already, now he has to stick by you and actually work with you. All those stolen glances, those subtle moments of help, the cold silences... it all amounts to this, and he has no idea how to deal with it.
Even though both of you havenât fought in a while, the tension still hangs thick in the air when you're in the same vicinity. Itâs so glaringly obvious, like a dark cloud that refuses to dissipate.
The truth is, Jungkook has grown to admire you from a distance, but that only makes the situation more complicated. His feelings for you are a constant ache in his chest, something he canât quite untangle. And now, here he is, stuck with you in a situation that feels like the last thing he wants.
But no matter how much he wishes it werenât true, when Mr. Kwonâs words echo in his mind, he knows thereâs no escaping it. The town fair is something both of you will have to navigate together, whether you guys like it or not.
Still, that doesnât mean his friends are going to let him off the hook so easily.
âSeems like you have no choice but to get along with Y/N, huh?â Yoongiâs voice is low, almost teasing, but Jungkook can hear the hidden challenge beneath the surface. Itâs a comment that cuts deeper than he wants to admit.
Jungkook scowls, his fingers tightening around the soda can heâd just grabbed, the metal crinkling under his grip. âShut up, hyung.â he mutters through clenched teeth, the words more defensive than he intended. "I donât know how Iâm going to do it, but weâre just going to work together, and that's it." he states, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral. The words taste like ash in his mouth.
âYeah, sure.â Hoseok adds, leaning in with that familiar, mischievous grin of his. âJust working. The way you look at her says otherwise, though.â His tone is light, but itâs clear heâs enjoying Jungkookâs discomfort a little too much.
âShut up.â Jungkook snaps, his irritation flaring. He canât stand their constant teasing, the way they poke at something heâs not ready to face. Itâs as though they can see right through him, and it makes him want to retreat even further into himself. And since, heâs been avoiding you... avoiding everything about you like itâs some kind of plague, having to confront it head-on seems impossible.
Jimin, however, is the one who really gets under his skin. âIâve noticed all those lingering looks you give her. I get it... youâre still holding on to something. But come on, man. Itâs been ages. Just face it and talk to her.â
âThatâs none of your business.â Jungkook growls, his voice low and thick with frustration. His temper is a simmering volcano, and it doesnât take much for it to erupt. He hates that they can see through him so easily, as if every thought, every feeling, is written on his face.
And worst of all, he doesnât want to think about you. Not now, not ever. But there you are, constantly in the back of his mind, disrupting his every thought.
âMaybe this is your chance to⌠fix things.â Yoongi muses, his voice taking on an almost knowing tone, like he understands something Jungkook isnât ready to admit to himself.
Jungkook remains silent, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turn white. His jaw is set in a firm line, but inside, he feels a stirring unease. Fix things? With you? No, thatâs not what he wants. Not at all.
But something about the space youâve left in his life lately, the absence of your presence,,, itâs bothering him more than it should. It feels... wrong. And he canât figure out why.
The emptiness in his chest is growing, and itâs eating away at him. He tries to ignore it, to shove it back down where it belongs, but the truth keeps creeping up on him and heâs not ready to face this. Not yet.
//
When the meetings finally start, you and Jungkook sit across from each other, a few feet apart, neither of you daring to breach the silence in the community center. The air between the two of you feels charged, thick with tension, like an invisible wall keeping you at arm's length.
Each glance, each shift of position, carries an unspoken weight, and even the faint sound of your breathing feels too loud. Every word spoken feels like an effort, a conscious choice to avoid snapping, but itâs almost impossible not to.
The first task at hand is the layout. You, the florist, are in charge of the decoration, but you know full well that itâs a collaborative effort, especially with Jungkook needing to ensure the space is functional. Youâve done this before, worked under pressure, but with him? It feels different. The stakes are higher, the frustration more palpable.
âSo..." you start, forcing your voice to remain steady and calm, even as the anticipation lingers in your chest. âWe need to figure out where the booths will be placed. The flower arrangements need to complement the flow of traffic, and we canât block the stage view.â You turn to him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment before quickly averting your eyes, as though the intensity of the connection might shatter the thin facade you��ve managed to maintain.
Jungkook, however, seems unfazed. His eyes flicker briefly towards you, but itâs clear his attention is elsewhere. âFine.â he mutters flatly, his voice devoid of any real emotion. He scrolls through his phone as if heâs in a different world entirely. âTell me where to put the tents.â he says.
You feel a flicker of irritation at his nonchalant response, but you force yourself to stay composed. âItâs not that simple.â you reply, your voice sharper than intended. âYou have to work with the dimensions. The booths need to be spaced properly to avoid crowding. Otherwise, the flow will be a mess.â you explain.
He hums in acknowledgment, but his focus never leaves the screen of his phone, his posture relaxed, almost too casual. He gives you nothing to go on, no acknowledgment that heâs actually listening, and yet, he doesnât argue.
Heâs making an effort, or so it seems, but the effort feels as half-hearted as his tone. You lay out the details of the booth placement, watching as his eyes dart back to his phone, the quick flicks of his thumb on the screen like a rhythm youâve grown all too familiar with. Itâs frustrating, to say the least.
Still, he doesnât outright ignore you. Thatâs something, right? A small victory, perhaps, but not enough to quell the simmering unease thatâs growing within you. Heâs pretending not to care, pretending like this is just another mundane task in his life. And maybe, in his mind, it is. But in yours? Itâs so much more than that.
//
The following days unfold in a similar pattern. The meetings don't happen every single day. Maybe just two to three times a week. Whenever you sit down to discuss, you both speak in clipped tones, each of you trying to push your own agenda without crossing the invisible line into conflict.
Itâs a game of subtle manipulations, of measuring your words carefully so as not to give anything away. Jungkook does his best to remain distant, as if heâs above it all... his expressions impassive, his body language indifferent. Itâs the perfect mask, and he wears it well, making it nearly impossible to gauge what heâs really thinking.
And yet, despite the stone-cold exterior, you canât shake the feeling that thereâs something more beneath the surface. You catch the fleeting glances he throws your way when he thinks youâre not looking, the slight tension in his shoulders when you speak, and the subtle shift in his tone when he responds.
Heâs trying to remain uninterested, trying to pretend he doesnât care. But the little cracks in his armor? They don't fully hide from you.
However, neither of you is willing to make the first move. The walls youâve both built around yourselves remain as sturdy as ever. The resentment, though unspoken, hangs in the air, a silent presence that neither of you dares to address. The past still looms large between you, an unspoken history that neither of you is ready to confront.
And so, you continue to go through the motions, working side by side but never truly together. The tension remains thick, like a fog you canât see through, and the distance between you only seems to grow with each passing day.
For Jungkook, the real battle wasnât the fair planning... it was you.
Every time your voice echoed in his ears, or your eyes briefly met his, it felt like a thousand invisible threads tangled around his chest, pulling him in every direction at once.
He didnât understand it. He couldnât. He tried so hard to stay indifferent, to bury it all beneath layers of cold indifference, but no matter how hard he fought, you had a way of slipping past his defenses.
The harder he tried to focus on the task at hand like the booths, the layout, the logistics, the more you seemed to invade his thoughts. It was maddening, the way you lingered in his mind even when he tried to distract himself.
The sound of your voice, the soft rhythm in your words, the way your eyes sparkled when you were engaged in something you loved... everything about you pulled at him, and he hated it.
He hated how easily he found himself drawn to you, despite everything. Despite the history between you, despite the distance he worked so hard to maintain. He had a job to do. He wasnât here for this. He wasnât here for you.
But it didnât stop him from noticing.
He would notice the way your hair fell in soft waves, catching the light just enough to make it look like something from a dream.
He would notice the curve of your smile as you spoke to your friends sometimes, right before looking at him as he waits for you to head towards the community center together, and the way your smile instantly drops when you spot him makes his chest tighten in ways he didnât know how to explain.
He would notice how your fingers gently caressed the petals of the flowers you arranged, each movement graceful and deliberate, like everything you touched turned into something beautiful.
It was all so distracting. And in that distraction, Jungkook found himself irritated by his own reaction. He hated how you made his heart race with the simplest of gestures, how his breath hitched when your gaze lingered on him a fraction longer than necessary.
He hated how much you affected him, how your presence seemed to make everything else fade away, as if the world revolved around you and him, suspended in the space between words.
He tried to shut it out. He tried so hard to ignore the flutter in his chest, to keep his focus sharp and steady, but each time you spoke, each time you glanced his way, it became harder. He tried to play it cool, tried to act like none of it mattered, but the truth was... it did matter. It mattered more than he wanted it to.
He despised how beautiful you were, how effortlessly you seemed to captivate every room you entered, how every little thing you did seemed to leave an imprint on his soul. You were the storm he couldnât weather, the fire he couldnât outrun, and he hated that he couldnât escape it.
Every glance, every moment of interaction, felt like a slow burn, a tension he couldnât release no matter how hard he tried. And the worst part? He couldnât even find it in himself to want to escape it anymore.
Maybe, deep down, he didnât want to. Maybe he was tired of pretending that it didnât matter, tired of trying to push down the feelings that seemed to bubble up from the depths of his chest, no matter how hard he fought them.
There were nights when he would lay awake, the weight of the day pressing down on him, and he could still hear your voice echoing in his mind, still see the way your eyes flickered with a hint of something... something he couldnât quite place. Something that made him think maybe, just maybe, he wasnât the only one feeling this tension.
But he never asked. He couldnât. He didnât know how to start.
So instead, he buried it, deep down where it could fester. He buried the way his heart seemed to beat a little faster when you walked into the room, and the way his thoughts would drift to you even when he tried to focus on something else.
He buried the guilt of knowing he was avoiding it, of knowing that he was pushing away something that, in some twisted way, he was beginning to want more than anything else.
Because, no matter how much he tried to pretend he didnât care, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that it was all just a fleeting distraction, he was lying to himself.
He cared. More than he should. And it terrified him.
//
The days continue to blur into one another, each meeting a subtle repetition of the last. But as time passes, you both start to find a rhythm. The awkward silences between you become less frequent, and though the tension never fully dissipates, it becomes something more manageable.
Now, with only one month left for the town fair, your tasks seemed to intertwine more seamlessly, and while Jungkook still maintains that nonchalant, almost aloof demeanor, thereâs a strange sense of understanding that develops between you two. Itâs not friendly, but itâs cooperative, a balance struck somewhere between resentment and reluctant teamwork.
You start to notice the little changes. The way Jungkook no longer scrolls through his phone during every conversation, or how he no longer avoids your gaze completely. He still doesnât speak much, but when he does, his tone is less dismissive, more practical, like heâs acknowledging that youâre both in this together, for better or for worse.
You canât quite tell if heâs faking it or if something is actually shifting beneath the surface, but it doesnât matter. You focus on the work, pushing through the awkwardness because at least, for now, the process is getting done.
As the days progress, thereâs a certain ease in the way you both begin to collaborate. You donât always agree, and you still bicker over details... where exactly the tents should be placed, what color scheme will work best with the space, and how to arrange the flower displays.
But the exchanges are less sharp, less pointed. Itâs as if the constant friction between you has smoothed out into something more tolerable.
You start to enjoy the process in small ways, even though Jungkook remains stoic through it all. The occasional glance exchanged across the table, the rare, almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgment when you make a valid point... those moments feel like victories.
And just when you start to think that maybe this partnership, while not ideal, could work out after all... just when the days seem to stretch into a predictable rhythm and the weight of the past starts to seem less suffocating, you're pulled out of your trance as you glance up at Jungkook who barges into the community center, his shoulders harshly pushing the door open.
Today, you and Jungkook were supposed to sit with Mr. Kwon and a few other committee members to discuss the progress of your planning and work. They're all seated around the table as they watch Jungkook walk inside.
Thereâs something off about him today. His usual confident stride is replaced by a more cautious pace, and the first thing you notice is the bruise on his cheek... a faint purple mark that looks like itâs only just begun to heal.
Your gaze travels down, noticing the bandages wrapped around his knuckles. For a split second, your stomach churns. You want to ask, to understand, but before you can even take a breath, heâs sitting down without a word, his usual aloofness firmly in place.
You saw him two days ago, and he was completely fine so you look at him, wondering what exactly happened between the interval.
He doesnât meet your eyes, though you can feel the tension in the air between you. Itâs as if the bruise on his face, the bandages on his hands, are somehow adding to the already thick layer of silence between the two of you. His presence fills the room, but in a way that feels more distant than ever.
Youâre suddenly acutely aware of the tightness in your chest, the way your heart begins to race, but you force yourself to push those thoughts aside. Itâs none of your business, you remind yourself. Heâs clearly not in the mood to talk, and you have no right to pry into his life. Your ego keeps you silent, your lips pressed together as you try to focus on the meeting at hand.
The conversation begins, and for a moment, the work distracts you from the storm of emotions swirling inside. But the normal rhythm of the meeting is shattered when a disagreement arises.
It starts with something small... where to position the flowers around the booths, which side will get the best sunlight. The back-and-forth is nothing new, but today, it feels different. Jungkookâs voice is sharper than usual, his irritation more obvious.
âNo, itâs wrong.â he snaps, his tone clipped and harsh as he shoots down your suggestion. âI donât care what you think, itâs just not going to work.â he spits out.
You feel your frustration rising, the familiar tension between you flaring up once again. But this time, itâs worse. Usually it's just the two of you, but today you have spectators. His words hit a nerve, and before you can stop yourself, you shoot back, your voice laced with annoyance. âYou donât have to be so rude about it.â
Jungkook doesnât back down. His eyes flash with a sudden intensity, his jaw clenching as he leans forward, almost daring you to push him further. âIf you stopped pretending to know what youâre doing and actually listened to someone who does, maybe you wouldnât be so completely useless.â
The words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, everything goes silent in the room. You feel your blood run cold as the sting of his words sinks in. Thereâs a moment of disbelief, followed by a sharp surge of anger.
You didnât expect him to snap like that, especially not in front of everyone. But the truth is, you donât care about the others in the room right now. All you care about is the unbearable pain in your chest that his words have left behind.
Without thinking, you stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor, the noise cutting through the tense silence. You donât even spare him a glance as you turn to leave, the weight of the moment pressing down on you.
Every step feels like itâs pulling you further away from the meeting, from him, and from the tight knot of emotions youâve been trying to ignore for so long. The door slams behind you with a resounding finality.
Mr. Kwon and the others in the room are left in stunned silence, but Jungkook doesnât move. He doesnât apologize. He doesnât say a word. He just sits there, staring at the empty space where you had been, the tension now painfully thick enough to cut with a knife.
He doesnât know whatâs worse... the physical pain in his body from the fight with the rival gang he just had before coming here, or the way his words just pushed you further away. But heâs not ready to admit that. Not to anyone. Not even to himself.
"Well..." Mr. Kwon starts, carefully eyeing Jungkook as he glances at the other members. " A little bit of a disagreement, I suppose." he breathes out.
"Let's talk about this calmly in the next meeting." he finally says, after a few seconds as the others silently agree with him. He stands up, softly patting Jungkook on the shoulder, before he exits the community center with the others.
Itâs clear that something has shifted. And whatever fragile understanding you had begun to build between the two of you, now seems like a distant memory, lost in the wake of that one, harsh moment. Jungkook doesnât know how to fix it, but somehow, he knows heâll have to face it. Eventually.
//
The moon hangs heavy in the sky, casting its silvery glow across the empty streets below. Jungkook walks towards his shop, hands buried deep in his pockets, but thereâs no warmth in the gesture. His body moves, but his mind churns, restless, unwilling to give him the peace he so desperately craves.
The meeting replays in his mind over and over, each iteration like a fresh stab to his chest. He canât forget the sharpness of his words, the way they cut into you, when he knew better than anyone that you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.
A long, heavy sigh escapes him, but it offers no relief. The tension in his shoulders feels like an unshakeable weight, a burden he canât cast aside. It wasnât your fault, none of it.
You had no part in the chaos of his morning... a rush of irate customers, a critical delivery gone wrong, and an absurd brawl with a rival biker gang over something that, in hindsight, seemed like pure stupidity.
Yet, somehow, you ended up on the receiving end of all his frustration, a target for everything heâd been bottling up. Guilt gnaws at him as he walks, the sharp taste of regret lingering on his tongue.
Passing your shop, a soft, golden light spills from the glass door. His steps falter, a flicker of curiosity cutting through the wall his pride has built. It's late, and yet you're still here. He pauses for a moment, unsure, torn between his ego and the pull of something deeper. And then, against all reason, he steps closer, pressing his face to the cool glass, eyes narrowing to catch a glimpse.
The sight of you makes something tighten in his chest. Your back is facing him, but your shoulders tremble, faintly at first, but enough to set his pulse racing. His breath catches, and then the realization hits him like a punch. Youâre crying.
His heart slams against his ribs, the sight of your silent sorrow unraveling him in ways he can't fully understand. His legs go weak, and the weight of his regret threatens to crush him. He's the cause of your tears, the reason for this moment of pain.
He stands frozen, torn between guilt and fear... fear that his presence will only make things worse. But the guilt surges, a relentless tide that drowns everything else.
His knees threaten to give away under the pressure of his own actions, and for a fleeting moment, he considers turning away, disappearing into the night. But the ache in his chest keeps him rooted to the spot.
Finally, he exhales, slow and deliberate, and pushes the door open, the soft chime of the bell echoing in the stillness. For a heartbeat, he wonders if youâll hear it, if youâll acknowledge his presence.
He steps inside, quiet, careful, as though every movement might break something more fragile than glass. The door closes gently behind him, and he moves closer, inching towards you, but the distance between you both feels like an entire universe.
The words he wants to say get caught in his throat. He doesnât know if any of them will ever be enough. âY/NâŚâ His voice cracks, quieter than he intended, raw with the weight of unspoken regret.
You donât turn around. You donât flinch. The silence stretches between you like an impassable chasm, and the space feels impossibly wide. His chest tightens further as he watches your back, every muscle in his body aching with the need to fix this, to make it right. But he doesnât know how.
âY/N, IâŚâ He swallows, fumbling for words, but none come. He knows an apology wonât undo the damage, but itâs the only thing he has left to offer. âIâm sorry. I...I shouldnât have snapped at you. I shouldnât haveââ
His words fall short as he sees your shoulders tremble harder, your body shaking with the weight of everything youâve been holding in. You turn slightly, enough for him to catch the tear tracks on your face, and the sight of them, the way your pain is laid bare before him, pierces him in ways he canât explain.
âI didnât mean to ⌠to snap at you like thatâŚâ His voice falters, breaking under the strain. He knows itâs too late for his apologies to fix anything. Youâve already heard too much of it, seen too much of his anger.
You wipe your eyes hastily, trying to erase the evidence of your tears, but when you face him fully, thereâs nothing but raw pain in your gaze. âNo, Jungkook,â you cut him off, your voice trembling with anger but steady, unwavering. âYou DONâT get to do this.â
He instinctively steps forward, his hand reaching out, but you step back, sharp and defensive.
âYou donât get to come in here now, after everything, and act like you can fix this with a half-hearted apology!â Your voice rises, shaking with emotion, and the dam finally breaks. âI donât NEED your apology. I donât WANT your apology!â
The words hit him like a physical blow, but he doesnât interrupt. He doesnât try to stop you. He just stands there, feeling the weight of every word, every accusation, land deep in his chest.
âYou made me feel small, Jungkook,â you continue, your voice cracking as tears brim in your eyes again. âEver since you moved next door, thatâs ALL youâve been doing. Itâs like you go out of your way to make my life miserable. Everything you say, everything you do, it makes me feel like Iâm constantly losing control over the one thing Iâve built with my own hands. Like me and my shop have always been a joke to you.â You pause, breath hitching as you try to steady yourself.
Jungkook knows exactly where this is coming from. Heâs the cause of every inch of this. He feels it in his gut, the crushing weight of his mistakes, and he knows he has no right to defend himself. All he can do is stand there and listen.
âYou donât care. You treat me like crap... like Iâm just some part of your day that you can lash out at whenever it suits you.â you spit, your voice trembling with fury. âIn your world, itâs always about you. Your thoughts, your problems, your emotions... itâs like nothing else... like no else... exists. You never stop to think about how your words affect anyone else. You never stop to think about how your words affect me.â
Your chest heaves with each word, your voice raw with hurt. And as the weight of your anger presses down on him, Jungkook feels a heavy suffocating knot coil in his stomach. This is all his fault.
âYou think I donât have enough to deal with already?â you continue, voice breaking as your tears spill again. âThat I need to be the punching bag for your anger? You donât get to treat me like that, Jungkook. You have no right to make me feel like Iâm the problem when youâre the one whoâs always pushing people away.â
The words echo in the empty space between you, a finality thatâs impossible to ignore. Jungkook stands there, silent, broken. Each word feels like a strike, each accusation hitting him harder than the last. âEvery time I think weâre okay, every time I think we can coexist in peace, you give me a million reasons to prove me wrong. You make me feel so fucking stupid for even thinking we could be friends.â
You run your hands through your hair, tears falling like rain as you try to catch your breath, but itâs hard. The storm inside you isnât over.
A few moments pass in silence, but itâs deafening, suffocating. You close your eyes, letting out a long, strained sigh. âIâve had enough.â you whisper, voice raw and exhausted. âI canât do this anymore... Not with you. Just... just get out, Jungkook.â
He doesnât move. He canât. He stands there, paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt. No words come, because he knows that nothing he could say will make things better.
You turn away, your shoulders shaking with the weight of everything youâve just said, and as you walk further away from him, Jungkook knows heâs lost more than just your trust tonight. He reluctantly steps back, still watching you as he moves towards the door. He knows it won't change anything but before he leaves, he still says it. "I'm sorry."
<- part 4 // part 6 ->
series masterlist
taglist: @kimyishin @ghijkd @dolligguk @mimi1097 (let me know if u wanted to be added !!)
#jungkook fic#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook#bts#bts jungkook#bts fic#enemies to lovers#jungkook fanfiction
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Please write about the shy reader and Kimi Raikkonen â¤ď¸
Out of the shadowsâ Kimi Raikkonen x reader
Word count â 750
Fluff
The paddock was alive with the usual chaosâmechanics rushing to and fro, journalists shouting over each other, and fans clamoring for attention. Y/N stood awkwardly near the Ferrari garage, clutching her team lanyard like it was her only anchor in the storm of noise around her. She hated crowds. The constant hum of voices, the flashes of cameras, the feeling of being watchedâit was all too much. But today, sheâd promised herself she would try. Try to be more like the othersâconfident, outgoing, able to handle it all.
Her resolve was crumbling with every passing moment.
She shifted from foot to foot, looking for a quiet place to retreat when she heard a familiar voice.
âWhy are you hiding here like a scared rabbit?â
Y/Nâs heart skipped a beat, and she turned quickly to see Kimi RäikkĂśnen standing just a few steps away, holding a cup of coffee. He stood there in his usual casual wayâarms loosely crossed, face impassive, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His presence was effortless.
âIâm not hiding,â she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked down, fiddling with her lanyard. âJust⌠observing.â
âObserving?â Kimi repeated, raising an eyebrow, clearly amused. He took a slow sip of his coffee, not breaking eye contact. âFrom the shadows?â
Y/Nâs cheeks flushed as she bit her lip. âI⌠I just donât like crowds.â
His gaze softened ever so slightly, but his tone remained as blunt as ever. âNeither do I,â he said.
She blinked. âBut youâre always out thereâracing, talking to the mediaâŚâ Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish. Kimi never seemed to care about the constant attention. How could he be so composed?
Kimiâs eyes flickered to the bustling scene around them, but he didnât look stressed, didnât flinch. âTalking?â he repeated, his lips curling into something close to a grin. âNo. I say what I need to, then I leave. Simple.â
Y/N was silent for a moment, processing his words. âYouâre⌠different,â she said, more to herself than to him.
âEveryoneâs different,â he replied with a shrug, taking another sip of his coffee. âYou think too much about what people think. Waste of time.â
She laughed softly, surprised at how easy it was to talk to him despite herself. She had expected more sarcasm, more indifference. But there was a strange clarity in the way Kimi spoke. He wasnât trying to be profound, but every word seemed to cut through the noise.
âYeah, I guess youâre right,â she said quietly. âI guess itâs easier for you.â
Kimiâs gaze softened just a touch as he regarded her, but his voice remained unaffected. âYou think I donât care?â he asked. âI care about what matters. I care about racing. But the rest of it?â He waved a hand in the direction of the media frenzy. âPointless. Why stress about it?â
She found herself smilingâslowly, hesitantlyâat his nonchalance. âI donât know how you do it.â
He gave a single, short laughâno warmth, just blunt amusement. âYou overthink everything. You should laugh more. Better than all that worrying.â
Y/N felt her nerves begin to ease, if only a little. She glanced away, trying to hide the warmth creeping up her neck. âIâll try,â she said softly, not used to this kind of easy back-and-forth.
Kimi didnât respond immediately, instead finishing his coffee before casually nodding toward the garage entrance. âCome on,â he said. âYou donât have to talk to anyone, just stand there. Theyâll leave you alone.â
She hesitated, glancing at the noisy crowd, then back at him. Something about the way he said itâthe matter-of-factness, the certaintyâmade her want to trust him.
She let out a breath, her shoulders relaxing just a little. âOkay,â she said, surprised at how easily the word slipped out.
They walked side by side toward the garage. The sounds of the paddock faded as she followed Kimiâno words passed between them, but for the first time in a long while, she didnât feel the constant pressure of expectations. Kimiâs presence was quiet but steady, and though he didnât say anything more, she didnât need him to.
It was a strange feeling, to be standing there beside him, surrounded by noise, and yet, for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of them.
And for the first time in a long time, Y/N realizedâmaybe it wasnât so terrifying, stepping out of the shadows after all.
#f1#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula one x you#f1 x y/n#faiths inboxesđĽđ¨#formula one x oc#formula one x y/n#kimi raikkonen#kimi raikkonen x reader#kimi raikkonen x you#kimi räikkĂśnen#kimi raikkonen imagine#kimi raikkonen fluff#kimi raikkonen fic
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Time for my weekly insane about Geo thoughts. I cannot imagine how terrified he must still be of Cole leaving him. Like yea he did the whole lying about his powers thing already, but it goes deeper than that insecurity from being thrown into the land of lost things.
He must have spent years hearing about this other, amazing, powerful family that Cole once had and that he missed deeply, and of course Geo knows Cole loves him, but he's sure that if it came down to it that Cole wouldn't actually choose him. But he can take some selfish comfort knowing that this old family isn't in the picture anymore. He feels like an asshole, but he's felt worse so...
But then this family come back and brings those world ending levels of responsibility that Geo had only heard of with them. Cole is dragged away by that and Geo is far from thinking it's a good idea to insist he stays, but now Cole knows he's been lying about his powers, and now they can all leave the land of lost things so Cole doesn't have a moral obligation there either. And of course Cole loves Geo and their kids and the family they've made, but in the face of the end of the world, he can't stay, and in the face of the ninja coming back, he may not ever return.
But that doesn't happen. Sure some shit goes down and Bonzel may be missing (she's not dead. She can't be. Just missing in a place someone can find her one day.) But Geo isn't alone in that. Silver linings.
But then the other thing about Geo that I'm not normal about rn is how weird it must feel for him to interact with the rest of the ninja.
Like Cole obviously has this dynamic and relationship that's older than Spitz and Fritz and had been born from blood and trials and heartbreak and Geo and the Finders are just. There. On the outskirts of that but never being integrated the way people like Sora and Arin are (Geo cannot fucking escape feeling like an outsider within already established groups damn).
And like of course the ninja have been kind to him, but there's a disconnect there. Cole is the only connection between his two families and if he isn't there, that fact becomes pretty obvious pretty quick. They've truama bonded a bit, but in a group as traumatized as the ninja that doesn't mean as much as it maybe should lol.
I was honestly just thinking about that part in DR season 2 where Lloyd was injured and Geo was just there. Like it was almost funny and the fact that it was funny is kinda sad. Like he's trying to help, clearly he cares, and they aren't telling him to leave either, but he's put of place. Wanting to help but not being close enough to do so in a way that matters, but also not detached enough to just walk away. The weirdest sort of limbo. But he loves Cole and Cole loves him and he hasn't left yet so maybe they'll figure something out.
#i just have the visual of Lloyd and Geo talking#idk what about but something#ninjago#lego ninjago#ninjago dragons rising#dragons rising#ninjago geo#ninjago cole#hes such a little guy i love him
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continuing the headcanon that @str8upjorkinit created with a few more houses, since some people asked for it (will post the other houses later I promise!)
Hotarubi and Mortkranken with a S/O that loves to carry them around (with pictures ?!)
Subaru
Turns into a tomato immediately
Apologizes for being carried as if you're not the one that decided to carry him in the first place!!!!
Tries SO hard to think of reasons why you should not be holding him like that, but his mind is just a blue screen at this point
Subaru tried the best he could not to entertain his little crush on you but you really went there and made it impossible đ
He'll never say it (because he always thinks he's being inconvenient), but he loves when you carry him whenever he's anxious or overwhelmed
You're kinda like his personal weighted blanket and he loves it
Still apologizes constantly, even after you two have settled this into your routine... time to hold him even tighter to maybe squeeze the insecurities away!
Subaru when you first began holding him vs Subaru after getting KINDA used to you holding him
Haku
Oh he's sooooooo into this
It's a wonder you don't drop him at your feet when he starts flirting with you right away
AND your face is so close to his? He hit jackpot, baby!
Expect him laying his head on your shoulder and flirting shamelessly just to see you getting flustered
It's not like he's not affected though!
He has the wildest butterflies fluttering in his stomach when you hold him so tightly and so close, literally sweeping him off his feet
After a while, you get used to his teasing, so he just enjoys his time on your arms.
If he ends up taking his afternoon nap on your lap, you can't blame him đŤľâźď¸ you did put him in the moat comfortable place ever (your arms)
Haku while he's flirting with you vs Haku when he relaxes and naps in your arms
Zenji
HAS THE TIME OF HIS LIFE
In fact, speaking of Time of My Life, you know that old movie, Dirty Dancing? If you can lift Zenji, he Will be forcing you to do the whole choreography with him
and you WILL be taking Patrick Swayze's role because he wants to be the girl who's lifted
Obviously he's excited you can lift him since he's HUGE but in his mind he's just like....... of course you can lift him!!! It's YOU after all!!!
You literally can do anything in his mind. No wonder you're his second favorite person, only behind his little brother.
He feels like a little damsel in distress whenever you carry him in his arms and he loves it, even starts writing more stories with this theme since he's so inspired
Loves it so much that he kinda expects you to do it everyday
Sending thoughts and prayers for your back
Zenji when you showed him you could lift him vs you after the 1000th time he asked you to carry him
Yuri
CAPITAL H HORRIFIEDDDDDD
Yells "PUT ME DOWN, WORM" like a thousand times
The other students start asking for you to please just put him down so they can work in peace
Because he won't stop yelling and distracting everyone with how dramatic he is
You're having way too much fun though, seeing how he turns the deepest shade of red ever and stutters nonstop about you being insane
He will never not complain whenever you hold him in your arms, but, after a while, he kinda gets used to it
Says it's just a symptom of your derangement and that no medicine seems to fix it đ how tragic
To be honest, he kinda likes it a little bit... especially the way he can see your face and your smile from up close... but he'll never ever admit it to himself, much less to you
Yuri when you carried him for the first time vs Yuri after he resigned himself and accepted that you Will carry him no matter what
Jiro
10000% doesn't mind
He is, however, a bit surprised that you can actually lift him up (after a little bit of struggle since he's the biggest ghoul after all
He thinks it's a little bit funny how you made it a matter of honor to carry him without struggle (which you manage after a while)
Whenever you get spooked and he (sadistically) laughs at your reactions, he allows you to carry him as some sort of peace offering
Jiro used to resist being carried whenever he got sick. His habit of just enduring it by himself for as long as he could was a bit hard to break
Much to his surprise, however, being able to "relax" in your arms as you take him back to Mortkranken made his sudden bouts of sickness less harrowing
Still thinks it's a little bit amusing how silly you look so focused, carrying someone double your size. He can get used to it as well, though
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J-Hope is not bad dancer, he's just not a very interesting one. Fans get so caught up on arguing over who's technically better but the majority of k-pop fans are not professional dancers so to them technicalities don't matter, what matters is who's more interesting to watch. There's a reason why every time J-Hope and Jimin performed in the same stage people paid more attention to Jimin. Think of MMA 2019, both had a change to have a solo dance on the same stage minutes apart but while people couldn't stop talking about Jimin's 'I Need U' dance nobody cared that much about J-Hope's dance, not because it was bad but because it didn't captivate people the way Jimin's dance did. And that's how it always goes with the two of them. And his fans get mad because he is a technically good dancer who's supposedly better than Jimin, so why aren't people paying attention him the way they do with Jimin? But again, the majority of people don't care about who's technically better so bringing up how J-Hope is better than Jimin is not gonna make people suddenly start preferring him. Think about how the people that actually get famous after they leave a singing competition (like The X Factor, The Voice, etc) are never the people that actually won. This is all because who is going to be people's favorite it's not decide based only on technical skill, it's more about who has that đľđŠđŞđŻđ¨. It's hard to explain what that đľđŠđŞđŻđ¨ is, but when you see it you know it's there. And J-Hope simply does not have that đľđŠđŞđŻđ¨ the way that Jimin does. And when you add in the fact that Jimin is also a technically skilled dancer who can actually be argued to be better than J-Hope, then it's no wonder he's the one most people prefer.
There's also something to be said about how the professional dancers who supposedly all say J-Hope is better than Jimin are all mostly street dancers, but ask a single contemporary dancer who's better and see how many of them say J-Hope. But because there's way more street dancers making youtube videos than contemporary dancers it gives people the impression that most professionals dancers think J-Hope is better. But if you want an actually well informed and unbiased opinion on who's a better dancer you're gonna have to ask someone who's simultaneously a street dancer, a contemporary dancer and also experienced at martial arts. But that's a pretty rare combination, isn't it? And that is one of the (many) reasons why Jimin is so special as a dancer - because he is that combination.
.đŻ
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