#literally every version of it doesn't end well

[gingermintpepper]

For the longest time, the quintessential song describing Apollo's wrath and consequent murder of Coronis for me was Marah in the Mainsail's 'Your Work isn't Done'.

It's dark. It's seething. Its image of Fate pushing the scorned speaker to complete his foul, terrible work of killing the man who stole his lover away from him is particularly powerful and it's always evoked this gruesomely tragic evolution of a glassy eyed Apollo stumbling through the streets, weak-legged and trembling from the betrayal growning more and more wrathful 'til he can think of no other course than to aim his bow and shoot. The price of betraying his trust is death and Coronis betrayed so much more than just his trust by taking Ischys as her lover.

The song itself captures that sensation of building wrath so well too. From the lonely guitar and vocals at the beginning which evoke this lonely, stripped back but distant grief to the way the singer is practically screaming his refrain of "Your work here isn't done" by the end, accompanied by the full blasting of instruments and an omnious chorus at his side, everything about this song is centered around building stakes, building realisations, building tensions and it creates this feeling of the speaker growing closer and closer with each new verse and chorus that adds to his anger.

There's also the absolute treasure trove of lyrics that work so well for specifically this tale. A brief overview of some of my favourites include;

- There's a crow overhead singing "Oh, Death is my friend."

- And though you think your time has come, the wheels of Fate have spun. Death has declared your work here isn't done.

- There's a girl on my heart safe ashore in her lover's arms

There's just such a vivid image to be drawn here - of Apollo's emotions being swallowed by his rage, of his resolve to end everything the more he bears witness to Coronis' brazen affair. There's even a strong female voice in the first two verses which seem to egg the speaker on in his spiral - a perfect opening to include Artemis who wishes for her brother to hunt that which brought him such pain alongside her. An Artemis who reinforces just what Coronis has done, an Artemis who does not want her brother to repress his anger after such grave an insult just because love was once there.

To me, it was perfect. Apollo's killing of Coronis was a crime of passion, an execution he sometimes cannot even bring himself to commit according to who is telling the tale. It's a wretched situation, harrowing, suffocating and cruel but if not by Apollo's hands, Coronis would simply die by another's. She cannot live after what she has done. The gods simply would not allow it.

AND THEN MY BIAS WAS COMPLETELY WRECKED BY LORD HURON.

Now, let it be known, I am a huge Lord Huron fan. Strange Trails is perhaps the most Apollo-coded album I've ever heard and songs like Yawning Grave and The Balancer's Eye capture such a visceral, gorgeous portrait of cosmic grief and anger that they haven't really left my brain since I first listened to them. Still, 'Setting Sun' from their Lonesome Dream album completely flew under my radar. Maybe it's because the commercial version is so much snappier than the Alive from Whispering Pines recording, maybe it's because I just hadn't listened to Lord Huron's discography in a while but my god. My god.

This song has it all; a quiet menace in its music, a strong male singer who sounds only barely restrained, an absolute HOST of lyrics that are so wonderfully perfect for the scenario -- after getting over how wonderful the song itself is, I immediately dethroned Your Work isn't Done because ultimately, 'Setting Sun' has something in abundance that 'Your Work isn't Done' minimised in order to focus on the wrath driving the song forward.

And that's love.

Setting Sun is so powerful because it's not just a revenge ballad - it's a dirge, a breakup song, a lament, a regret manifesto. So many times during the song, the speaker wonders when his lover stopped loving him. He recounts intimate moments and wonders if his lover was thinking of the other man when she was enjoying herself, wonders if anything she'd said was even real. And I love that so, so much.

Ultimately, Apollo adored Coronis. As inevitable as her death was, he regretted every second of it. No matter how angry, no matter how betrayed, no matter how intensely he was shamed, he still loved her. He weeps for her when she dies, he screams and grieves and cries when he's faced with her corpse. In some tales, no matter the cocktail of emotion driving him, he simply cannot bring himself to kill her. He'd rather cry in Artemis' arms and take his anger out on his own servant than hurt her. His own father has to dispatch Ischys since Apollo can't even bring himself to hurt that which Coronis once loved. Of course, in this case, Apollo's going to kill someone but the point is, it's not a decision of pure anger so much as its this complicated, horrible mix of resolve and lost love.

And my god does Setting Sun capture this conflict, passion, grief and love so well. UGH, I'm vibrating just thinking about it -- there are so many points where I hear its lyrics and can vividly picture Apollo, jaw clenched looking Coronis in her eyes and quietly confronting her.

Coronis, returning home at twilight after spending the day with Ischys to Apollo stringing his bow, "Oh? Is he ready to die for you baby? No, but you know I would."

Coronis lying to him about who she's spent her time with and Apollo's soft, near pained, "Does it hurt when you lie to me? If you asked, I would set you free."

I even really love the image of a Coronis who runs away from Apollo upon realising what will soon happen, not to escape his arrows but to warn Ischys who does not know what will happen. Of Apollo getting into his stance, taking aim at them and gathering his strength as the final refrains rings out "I know I'll never reclaim your love and that's as hard as it gets, so I'll be taking a life when the sun sets."

Other favourite lines of mine include;

- Oh, is he ready to die for you baby, now that the deed is done?

- Tell me when did I lose your love? Was it him you were thinking of?

- And I could never betray your love, you had me heart and soul. You might never have known it girl, but I was all yours.

And ultimately, I just like this conflicted portrait of premeditated murder much more than the crime of passion 'Your Work isn't Done' paints. Crimes of passion - especially when Apollo is concerned - are tragic in their own right, but in Coronis' case, I think I prefer it so much more when there's no way for Apollo's action to be misconstrued for anything other than what it is, especially since he goes on to cut Asclepius from his mother's corpse then carry on with building her funeral pyre. I think there's something so much more impacting about Apollo being unable to hide away from Coronis' blood on his hands and him having to raise Asclepius with those selfsame hands.

Love of the mortal does not supercede the responsibility of the divine. If Coronis' sentence no matter what is death, who better to lead her gently to the knife than he who still loves her?

[no-144444]

the grid: dealing with your childhood stuffed animal!

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featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Franco Colapinto, Logan Sargeant, Daniel Riccardo, Liam Lawson, Charles LeClerc, Carlos Sainz, Arthur LeClerc, Ollie Bearman, Max Verstappen, Paul Aron, Jack Doohan.

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Oscar Piastri: cutie pie 

Bro is a gentleman through and through

He will tuck it in 

He always grabs it if it falls of the bed

When he washes it he calls it a ‘spa day’

Cutie patootie

During sex he does usually push it off the bed, but he puts them back after. (he understands it doesn't want to see that).

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Lando Norris: drama queen 

Could he complain more? 

He’s not even that jealous of it, he just doesn’t like when you’re cuddling with it instead of him.

When you do that, he will cling to you like his life depends on it, sighing and groaning every time you laugh at him. 

“Wow, I wish I had someone who could hold me right now, too bad you’re busy cheating on me..”

Drama queen. 

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George Russell: tentative 

He’s friendly with it, but he’s not its biggest fan. 

When he came into your room for the first time, he was quite startled by it.

But he’s grown to appreciate it. 

He knows all its name for sure, and when he’s putting it back, he puts them with its ‘friends’ 

(Bro has made up story lines in his head about it and your other teddies). 

Definitely got the stuffed-teddy version of himself that Mercedes has and gave it to you. 

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Lewis Hamilton: chill guy

He’s chill with it. 

He doesn’t make it a big deal, but sometimes if Roscoe isn’t in the room, he’ll talk to it about you while you're taking ages to get ready. 

Like pretending it can hear him and complaining like a sassy man.

You almost always throw a pillow at both of them.

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Kimi Antonelli: confused but supportive

Supportive, but he doesn’t really get it. 

He likes it, but when it ends up on the floor, he’s not immediately picking it up to take care of it. 

He does take lots of photos of it when you’re away.

It becomes his buddy when you have to travel, he brings it everywhere.

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Alex Albon: very much into it

Bro understands 

He also has one. 

They’re also in love.

When you both have to go away, you send each other pictures of your stuffed animals ‘missing’ each other. 

That’s what happens when you date someone for a long time. 

Cringe shit. 

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Logan Sargeant: complainer! 

Supportive, but will shove it off the bed every night. 

When you go looking for it, he’ll whine about  “You have me right here!”

Which never ends well. 

He ends up on the other side of the bed with a pillow between the two of you. 

But he always sneaks back over. 

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Franco Colapinto: gossip over anything

Again, supportive but confused. 

At the beginning he was like ‘that’s for kids’, but when he sees how much joy and comfort it brings you, he changes his tune. 

He loves that thing.

Like Lewis, NO.1 gossip partner when you’re taking ages to get ready. 

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Daniel Riccardo: IT’S A PART OF THE FAMILY 

Treats it like your child. 

Brings it everywhere with you

Even jokingly ra children buggy for it.

Made an Énchante design with it on it. 

Loves it. 

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Liam Lawson: menace to society 

His no.1 enemy. 

Hates it.

Hates that it gets more attention than him. 

Cannot stand it. 

Literally fights it. 

Throws it away from you at any chance he gets. 

He is a menace. 

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Charles LeClerc: hot and cold 

He’s on the fence with it.

Sometimes they’re on good terms, sometimes he chucks it across the room.

Will cuddle you and push the teddy away sometimes but will also go and find it for you if you need it. 

Duality of man!

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Carlos Sainz: liar

Literally makes fun of you for it, despite loving it himself.

He will bring it on bike rides and all that shit, only to take pictures of it for you.

But the second you start looking for it.

“Aren’t you a bit old for that?”

And every time you remind him that he takes it on bike rides, to which he responds “only for you!” which always ends up in a play fight of some sorts where you both are trying to get the stuffy. 

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Arthur LeClerc: beginning of his villain arc

He hates the damn thing.

He will hide it.

He will take it.

He doesn’t care. 

He hates it. 

Every fibre of his being hates it, only because you treat it like him. 

You tuck it in, cuddle it, always have it close. 

He is so jealous. 

When you kiss it? 

He actually screams. 

He demands like 5x more kisses than whatever it got. 

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Ollie Bearman: ummmm

Supportive, but also kind of tough-guy about it. 

“You don’t need that, you have me”

Rolls his eyes when you ask him to go find it because you know he hid it and you’re already comfy in bed. 

Goes and grabs it anyways

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Max Verstappen: passive aggression!

He’s fine with it.

Chill but not the biggest fan. 

Doesn't hide it or anything, just make passive aggressive comments when you cuddle it instead of him

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Paul Aron: he is a father 

Cutie patootie 

He again, treats it like your child. 

Takes it away with him sometimes.

Takes photos of it, and with it all the time. 

The teddy had gone on many a boys night, all of them taking photos with it. 

You have the entire F2 grid holding it for photos with Paul. 

Even fans know about it and love it. 

Brought it to the FIA gala and took photos on the red carpet with it since you couldn’t be there. 

It has become a legend in the F1 community so even the team principals and drivers asked to be in photos with it. 

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Jack Doohan: thief! 

Would rather die than admit that he love sit

Hides it, complains about it 

But secretly would kill for it. 

You find him cuddling with it sometimes.

He takes it on trips as a ‘reminder of you’, but you know it’s actually because he likes it a lot.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[mechsangel]

lucky charm , ft. bllck

what the blue lock boys' good luck charm is | itoshi sae, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser

itoshi sae

i can imagine you getting him some kind of bracelet that he wears 24/7. he won't do anything like kiss it before a game because he thinks it's embarrassing. he doesn't think he needs luck—he's got talent, after all—but he still won't take it off. when you gifted him the bracelet, he probably didn't look all that impressed with it. but when you told him “i'll return it if you don't like it” he just scoffed and never even answered you. trust me, that's sae's version of the no, it's mine forever now. and he literally never takes it off. like. he wears it to his games, in the shower, at interviews. he gives no fucks.

he never talks about it though. he doesn't even like when you bring it up. he's just embarrassed ,, he's just a silly little guy.

shidou ryusei

i'm not going to be nsfw here but trust me, i could be. he's my favourite little freak. <3 but alas ,

his good luck charm is a kiss from you. i'm not talking about a little brush of your lips, no. i'm talking about a full on kiss, tongue and everything, before every single one of his games. if you're willing, he'll make a show out of it too. he'll make out with you right in the stadium after threatening the coach to let you sit on the bench with the team as opposed to somewhere in the audience.

he'll come out of the locker room, run up to you and just pull you into a kiss. if he could, he'd do it after every single one of his goals too. (he's probably tried this and figured out pretty quickly that it doesn't work all that well in the middle of a game)

nagi seishiro

nagi is a low effort type of guy. he likes easy things and he doesn't want to over complicate literally anything. so for him, i imagine it'd be something simple and sweet: a hug. before one of his games, you'll give him a tight hug & kiss on the cheek to seal the deal.

“do your best, sei!” you'll say and he'll complain and whine that it's a hassle, but at the end of the day, he will try to do his best for you. and so far, it's worked pretty well.

sometimes though, he won't want to leave your embrace. he'll just keep holding onto you until you have to literally pull him off because he needs to get to the locker room to get changed for the game. bribe him with cuddles and a gaming session if he does well and he'll let go—but not without complaining and whining.

michael kaiser

he has a lot of tattoos. so before an important game, you'll get a sharpie and add a little drawing to them. other people rarely see it since he's got to keep his arms covered most of the time during games anyway, but he knows it's there and it makes him want to be even better—want to impress you even more.

the night before a game, you'll add a cute little sketch of a cat to his arm with a little heart and he literally will not shower until after the game, just to make sure it stays there. i don't think it's so much about luck for him, i think it's just a reminder that you're watching him and he needs to be the best on the field.

[wordsofwhimsy]

did somebody ask which version of mark is puttin it down best?

guess i'll give my analysis 😮‍💨

main!mark is all about pleasing you, sooo he's definitely giving the other boys a run for their money. his oral & finger game? UNMATCHED. he's not dumb and aggressive about it like the majority of the others. he keeps it slow, intentional, so dedicated, living in your pleasure. the more praise you give him the better. his sex game tho takes awhile to come up to par - he's so scared of hurting you for soo long that he just takes it too easy, or doesn't take the lead at all. once he learns the fine art of blowing your back out without killing you tho? 😏

mohawk!mark is soo aggressively fun, but he's really only in it for his own pleasure. he kinda just assumes (rightly so) that you're gonna feel good either way but he never bothers to actually check in with you, see how you're doing lol it's probably also a MUST for you to suck his dick every time, forcing your head down and then mocking you when you gag or gasp for air. he doesn't care to return the favor too often but if you whine too much he will. it's not really that great tho - he's rushing and careless, just trying to move on to the main event

viltrumite!mark takes some teaching. he's of the mindset that sex is just for procreation, and if this is a scenario where he's taken you back to viltrum he's not going to really feel the need to view it any other way. but if he's staying on earth with you? well, sex sells baby and the influence is all around. he starts noticing things in movies and in songs, stuff on the internet--hell even billboards and magazines. don't be fooled his dickin is good even when it's boring missionary but once he starts coming around to trying all the other fun things? oh lawd have mercy

omni!mark is an interesting mix of dominance without aggression, no dirty talk. all business, really but this man IS in the business of pleasure - for you at least. he struggles to let you take the lead though which is kinda boring sometimes, and anything kinky? like spanking or choking? absolutely not. you're not some scallywag hoodlum (LMFAO) and he's definitely not going to treat you like one. buuut if you start talking dirty and cussing? he might be flustered, and maybe even a little more turned on than usual (he'd never admit it)

sinister!mark is all about HIM HIM HIM. but the caveat of this is he needs to know he's GOOD at what he's doing - which means you need to feel good too. he's so unbelievably aggressive and doesn't do missionary. you are not coming away without bruises and marks every single time. i think he likes to make you dance for him too beforehand. that's his idea of foreplay - something that reminds you both who's in charge and who it's all for. you better hope he's not in the mood to go down on you cause that bitch bites 😭

no goggles/lensless!mark is probably my fav 🤭 is literally 100% about whatever it is you're into. i guess except missionary whoops. like he's fine throwing it in there occasionally but not a chance he's opening or ending in that position. in fact switching positions is HIS personal favorite thing. honestly his oral is so-so. he's just too damn talkative and can't focus on the task at hand. he also doesn't take it well either - the man's LOUD. and honeestly busts pretty quick but that's okay! he bounces back quicker. viltrumite stamina is crazy and his libido just adds to it

shiesty!mark has probably fucked more people than all of them combined so, yeah, he's got the practice and experience. he KNOWS his dick is phenomenal and tbh if he's not really into you he's letting you do most of the work. he thinks he's doing YOU favor by letting you ride it. but if you were hard to get? ohhh he's got something to prove now, and trust he will. this man reaches spots none of the others even knows exist, uses his strength in a way that is just chefs kiss - pinning you without hurting you, playing with your nipples and the other sensitive parts with expert care. and probably my fav thing about him is that he's the only one (except maybe main!mark) who ever thinks to put on musiccc

moustache!mark is 😛 father dearest. TOTALLY showing you what it feels like to be owneddd - unquestionably, but not in the way sinister does. he does it with affection. you know, like a 'pet' and all that jazz. he's got this way of making you feel simultaneously small and like the most important person in the world. and when he goes down on youuu? THE TICKLE?? biiitch stop. he also is the one who appreciates the thickies the most ughh like he NEEDS all that ass in his hands, in his lap, on his dick. the love handles? the tummy? give him alllat - trust ☝️ he can handle it

prisoner!mark is an interesting one. if we're talking straight out the pen? he's an ANIMAL. i'm talking y'all are going at it aaall night long, him painfully impatient through every little break you insist he gives you. he's also physically the strongest of them all, and, yeah, it shows. all that body pressed into you? those arms? 🥴 idk how anatomically that would even work but for some reason i feel like he'd have a thicker cock too. he'd be so deep and guttural with his groans, all in your ear with it. no holding back. after some time though i think he'd be focused on you and learning what you like - buuut at the end of the day, he still is the most deprived and wants it ALWAYS

[prlssprfctn]

A fun little headcannon is that everyone believes Jason to prefer paperback and physical paper but he honestly doesn't care. Maybe it stems from his Robin days reading for hours in the manor library. Or how'd he always tell Bruce to write down the details of the case to solve it faster. Or even that they needed to have physical copies of each file in case the Batcomputer got hacked. It just stuck with Bruce and by extension everyone believes it.

But like he would totally love an eReader with how many books you can fit on it. Audio books are even better because he can listen to them anywhere. The man likes the stories people have to tell. How he consumes it isn't a concern. But of course he has a flare for dramatics so he plays into this misconception.

Steph: Jason, I know you'd prefer a physical book but I got a Kindle that you could use more than me.

Jason who already owns the newest model takes it and chucks it at the floor: Disgusting.

Tim at the Batcomputer: Why do we need to write up a report for Condiment King of all people. Its the third one this month!

Jason: Back in my day we would hand write each and every report.

Dick: No we didn't???

Jason magically pulling out a file cabinet with said case files.

Jason: Honestly we should start doing that again let me go ask Bruce.

Bruce: Honestly if you'd wait five more minutes someone would have come in as backup. You don't need to do everything on your own Hood.

Jason completely ignoring him because he's got books downloaded on his helmet.

Damian next to him knowing what Jason is up to because he did the exact same thing with Ra's.

YES, YES!

i think Jason loves paperback when it is his already favourite books, the ones he knows he loves and wants to annotate and explore — otherwise, he prefers to try books in e-version first. or borrow books from the library if he is in the mood. he strikes me as someone who loves supporting local libraries! plus, listens audio-books on missions and during work-outs, yep, yep.

do other family members have a wrong opinion in that in their minds because Bruce is the "heard my kid mentioning something once, now i think their whole personality evolves around this thing" type of parent sometimes? oh, fucking absolutely. does Jason love to play on the stereotype of "boomer" sibling? yeah— lol.

also, he is a type of kid who would remind the teacher about homework (i think he genuinely cared about this as a kid and didn't understand why everyone got mad, but now he knows WHY, and he will do it EVERYONE'S problem) and combined with him, writing reports on papers, i raise you this:

Bruce, tired by the end of the patrol: Had we discussed everything? Hadn't I forgotten something?

literally everyone but Jason, quickly: no, no, we are fine. ha-ha.

Jason, appearing behind them: well. actually. we all now should write our reports.

Bruce: oh, right.

Jason, smirking: here is mine, by the way. i wrote it while you are all was bickering.

Bruce: so competent! thank you, lad.

Other kids, fuming: -_-

also, the image of Jason blasting audio-books through his helmet is frying me. so, get this:

Dick: Jason is so suspiciously calm for the last few days! like, seriously. proud of him.

Tim: right? it is actually hilarious. Bruce was screaming at him yesterday, and Jason was just staring at him silently, no word, no remark... he was so quiet that Bruce instantly felt bad and apologised. like. master-tecnique. lol.

Jason, who was listening to audio-book all this time, and didn't even hear what Bruce said, just nodded when he started randomly hugging him and murmuring "my baby": whatever.

[prettycalla]

|| Owner of a Lonely Flaming Heart (Fan Club Card) ||

Pairing: Johnny Storm/Reader

Summary: Johnny finds out that you're a member of his fan club, and no, you're not going to hear the end of it anytime soon.

Word count: 2.3k

Tags and warnings: Fluff, Johnny's a nuisance (affectionate), established relationship, no use of Y/N.

(Once again, thank you so much to @getaapologist for the brilliant idea! And you should definitely check out @glassbxttless for her amazing version of this!)

Johnny Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist

There's not a lot that Johnny doesn't know about you.

For starters, it never seemed fair for you to keep secrets from him. Almost every detail of his life is plastered all over tabloid articles and gossip magazines. He's even got his own billboard downtown, which he's very proud of, by the way. Needless to say, you knew more about him before you'd even had the chance to introduce yourself, and so you thought it was only fair that he knew just as much about you - even if most of it wasn't remotely as interesting. (Johnny begs to differ, but then he always does have to be different.)

Not only that, but you couldn't keep a secret from him even if you tried. Once he sets his mind on something, he just can't leave it alone. He reminds you of a hunting dog sometimes - as soon as he catches the scent of something interesting, he's on it in seconds. You made the mistake of telling him as much once, and he made such a embarrassing show of barking and howling at you in response that you've never done it again. Ever the exhibitionist.

But there's one thing he doesn't know about you, and you'd rather like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

You're a member of the Flaming Hearts Fan Club.

Johnny's fan club.

Look, you know how it sounds. A diehard fan who managed to keep the obsession under control long enough to get the job as his assistant, and as luck would have it, actually catch the eye of the Human Torch himself? It's ridiculous, it's entirely unbelievable, and yet here you are.

But the thing is, you're not obsessed with him. Never have been. You just thought he was cute. A friend had pointed out the advertisement for his fan club in a magazine. Why not? you'd thought to yourself. It was just a bit of fun.

And when you were invited for the job interview, you'd known that if you were successful, you'd be working in the same building as literal superheroes, which, while obviously an incredible thing to brag about, wasn't exactly your main reason for applying.

The field you were trained in was pretty specific; you knew this even while you were in college, with a class that was barely in the double digits. But you had no idea how difficult it was going to be to get hired after you graduated, save for setting yourself up independently, which seemed a little (okay, a lot) out of your current financial budget.

So when you'd seen the job listing, you'd jumped at the chance, the thought of where you'd be working not really occurring to you at all.

Until you'd gotten the job, and walked in to find Johnny Storm himself waiting for you.

That was two years ago now. And well...things have definitely changed since then. The biggest one being that the two of you are now dating.

If you're honest with yourself, you're still not entirely sure how it happened, but you wouldn't change how things are for the world.

Well, except for one little thing.

One little, rectangular, laminated thing, that is now lying on the floor, right at Johnny's feet.

You'd been trying to pay Johnny back for getting you coffee (not that he would take it, but you're nothing if not persistent), and it had slipped right out of your purse. You'd forgotten it was even in there.

"Is that...?" he begins to ask, before trailing off.

He crouches down to pick it up, and all hope that he hadn't noticed it goes right out the window.

"Oh my God, it is," he says, with a breathless laugh.

"Johnny..." you start, wringing your hands together nervously.

"I can't believe this," he says, with a shake of his head. "You're a member of my fan club. You."

You let out a sigh. Hell truly is other people.

He flips the card over, and his face lights up like it's his birthday.

"Oh, you signed it," he says, his smile only growing wider. "That is so cute."

He looks up at you then. He's clearly having the time of his life. At least one of you is.

"When were you gonna tell me about this, huh?" he asks, turning the card over and over between his fingers.

"Um, probably never?" you manage to reply, your face burning.

Johnny tilts his head at that.

"You know, I thought the vetting process for this job was pretty strict, and now I find out you've been a Johnny nut this whole time?"

He's kidding, you know he is. It still doesn't stop you from wanting to slap the smug smile off his face.

"Cut it out," you reply, trying to snatch the card from his hand, but he's too quick for you.

He moves out of your reach, turning on his heel and walking away.

"Man, I can't believe this is the photo they went with," he says. "I look like Captain Kirk here. Though he's a handsome guy, so I guess I can't complain."

He turns around again, holding the card up to his face and striking the same pose.

"You see it too, right?" he asks, as he pushes his hair to one side in an attempt to style it the same way. "Captain Storm. I like the sound of that."

He's having so much fun, he's completely ignoring the fact that you've been glaring daggers at him the entire time.

"Are you done making fun of me?" you ask, holding your hand out.

Johnny frowns at you in confusion.

"Oh, that's what I was supposed to be doing," he says, as if in sudden realisation. "Thanks for the reminder, doll."

This is it. This is the day you murder him. It's finally arrived.

Johnny's expression softens slightly.

"Hey," he says gently, crossing the short distance between you. "You know I'm kidding, right?"

You let out a little sigh, before nodding.

"I know, it's just...Well, it's embarrassing," you admit quietly.

He reaches for your hand, giving it a little squeeze.

"Nah, it's hardly embarrassing. I've seen worse. God, I've done worse," he replies, without his usual bravado.

You can't help but roll your eyes at that. Oh, you're well aware of Johnny's antics.

"I just...I don't want you to get the wrong idea," you tell him. "I didn't apply for this job because I'm some delusional fan."

Johnny gently tugs you close to him, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Hey, come on," he murmurs. "I know that. You're nothing like my fans, and I love that about you. You don't treat me like I'm some sort of God. Which, if I'm honest, is fun up to a point. You treat me like me, and I appreciate it. Really."

You look up at him. You're one of the few people lucky enough to see him like this - without his usual cocky stance and snarky one-liners. Full of sincerity.

Human.

It reminds you why you fell for him in the first place.

"So, how did you end up becoming a member, anyway?" he asks.

So much for that, you think to yourself, albeit fondly.

"A friend of mine had seen the application form in a magazine, and we thought it'd be fun," you tell him. "I did always think you were kinda cute."

Johnny blinks at you in disbelief.

"Sorry, kinda?" he asks, tone exasperated.

"Okay, very cute," you reply, relenting. "Unbelievably cute. The cutest."

Johnny looks down with a little breath of a laugh. Rarely do you see him shy - you're not sure he even knows the meaning of the word.

"And, um, there was another reason I joined," you say softly.

At that, Johnny's focus is immediately on you again.

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, trying and failing to sound casual. "What's that?"

You lean in close to him, making sure you have his full attention.

"Reed's fan club wasn't taking any more applications," you whisper in his ear, and while he's spluttering to find a response, you manage to yank the card out of his hand.

You step out from under his arm, safely putting the card back in your bag and zipping it up. Johnny's face has turned very red, and you can't help but laugh. It's nice to have the upper hand for a change.

"C'mon, we really should get back to this," you say, nodding your head in the direction of the blueprint that's been all but abandoned.

Johnny just shakes his head in disbelief, and you bite back a smile, trying to refocus yourself on your work.

"This isn't over, by the way," he mutters, reaching for a pen to write something down. "Reed's fan club. Unbelievable."

Despite his little "threat", Johnny doesn't mention the card again. You find yourself a little on edge, waiting for him to bring it up, but eventually, you start to settle, pushing it to the back of your mind.

Not a great idea. You should really know better than to believe that Johnny has the capacity to let anything go.

You're in the middle of laying out the notes the two of you have been working on one afternoon, enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet with Johnny still out on lunch, when the door opens behind you.

Speak of the devil.

"That eager to get started that you couldn't even wait for me, huh?" he asks, his tone light as his footsteps grow closer.

You shake your head, your attention still focused on the task in front of you.

"Just setting up," you reply.

You can sense him standing next to you, but he doesn't say anything more. Something's not right when Johnny's quiet, and you turn to look at him.

His hands are behind his back.

"I've got something for you," he says, with a coy little smile.

Knowing Johnny, this could either be very good, or very bad.

"What is it?" you ask, trying not to sound concerned.

Judging by how Johnny chuckles, you've clearly failed. He theatrically moves his hands so they're now in front of him.

He's holding a little card. You pull a face.

"Were you going through my bag?" you ask, tone exasperated.

Johnny shakes his head, his smile only widening as he holds the card out to you.

"Maybe you should take a closer look," is all he says.

You tentatively take the card from him, and immediately burst out laughing.

"Is this- Johnny, this is ridiculous," you try to chide, but there's no denying the smile still on your face.

It's a fan club card. For you.

You know it's supposed to be a joke, but he's clearly put a lot of thought and effort into it. He even chose a photo of you that doesn't make you want to kick him in the shins, which, for Johnny, is a surprise.

"Turn it over," he says.

On the back is his signature. He signed it. Even drew a little heart.

"And if you'll look at what it says underneath..." he says, trailing off as he points to the small, bold print under his name.

Fan Club President.

It's so silly, and yet you can't help but feel a little overwhelmed. Johnny's a hard one for you to understand sometimes; the polar opposite of you in so many ways. You don't know how many times you've thought that your relationship shouldn't work, and yet somehow, despite everything, it does.

He knows when you need dragged out of yourself for your own sake, and he knows when he needs to rein himself in. There's the Johnny who poses for the fans and paparazzi, and then there's your Johnny, who goes out of his way to get dinner for you from that cute little pizza place you love that doesn't deliver, and makes himself the president of the fan club that he made up just for you.

He might drive you crazy at the best of times, but no one has ever made you feel as special as Johnny does.

"Y'know, the one downside of being the first member of your fan club is that I have to get all the other stuff for myself," he says cryptically.

You stop for a second.

"Wait, what other stuff? What do you mean?" you ask.

Johnny won't meet your eye. Like a dog that's been caught doing something it shouldn't have.

"Well...It's just..."

He taps the card with his finger.

"I know my fan club membership comes with posters and stuff," he says, still too vague for your liking. "I mean, you would know."

"And...?" you press.

"Well, all I'm saying is...When am I gonna get a poster of you?" he asks, finally meeting your gaze.

With his signature shit-eating grin on his face, of course.

Your eyes widen. So does his smile.

"You're not serious! You're- Johnny, you're in your uniform in that poster. It leaves nothing to the imagination!" you hiss in embarrassment.

"And...? What's your point?" he asks, leaning on the table with his arms folded.

His tone is innocent, but his eyes are half-lidded, and he's giving you that look, the one that always makes your stomach flutter.

"Can we...Can we please get back to work now?" you ask, almost desperate for this conversation to end.

Before you do something completely out of character.

Johnny rolls his eyes, but he relents. Much to your relief.

"Sure thing, doll," he replies, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

He turns back to the notes spread out across the desk, and the pair of you fall into a comfortable silence for a while. Until-

"Okay, so maybe not a full poster spread, but how about some polaroids?" he asks, with a sly glance in your direction.

If the pen in your hand just happens to slip out of your grasp and hit him on the forehead, well...

Accidents do happen.

Taglist: @iitsmandii @glassbxttless @getaapologist @fandom-princess-forevermore @samslvrgirl @magikdarkholme @spider-starry @peachyproserpina @robinbuckleywife @keaganz

(You can join the taglist here! If you wish to be removed, please let me know!)

[ghysry]

PLS MORE FIVE FICS!!! Something cute & sassy & not too serious 🥹 I need some fluff(-orsmutCOUGH) after what they did with five this season 😭😭💀

:3...

Tags: Oneshot, fluff/no angst, Five x Reader, Five(s) x Reader, Five rlly said "mitosis!", All is fluff, all is well, I'm not even going to try and explain how Reader got to the deli, DELI FIVES, Five's deli, For some reason I'm going insane

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

"Which one of us?"

As soon as you stepped into the Deli all Fives sensed you immediately like a sixth sense

For some reason you are now getting forcefully seated on a booth seat and served your favorite food

All of them have this look on their face like they want to admire you from afar but can't stop themselves from blinking over to you and staring at you eat

You, in the universe you came from, never had a relationship with Five

Literally every version in this Deli has had a relationship with you

Some of them are a lot clingier than others, one Five tells you that in his timeline you died because of the commission and he would not let go of your ring finger for some reason

Too busy loving you right now to even care about fixing the apocalypse

Another Five blinks over to the side not already preoccupied with a Five and just stares at you like a Maniac

Brisket Five cooks you his best brisket while also screaming at everyone in the back because he doesn't want to fail you in brisket of all things

You're served your favorite food, favorite drink, and with a rough side of every version of Five calling you either "sweetheart" or "darling"

This is either heaven or hell

"I missed you." Coming from all sides paired with longing looks and little bumps of your body skin to skin with one Five to another

There's definitely a fight starting in the back because of you

Oh no

The Fives keep trying to claim dibs on you

This will not end well

Brisket Five wins by the way

[galactic-rhea]

I was thinking back of some of the concept art for Encanto I always loved and... Long rambling ahead.

YUP! I remain obssesed wiwth it, especially the first one, the black butterflies!! In many latinoamerican countries (including mine) black butterflies in a home are a bad omen, to the point there's people absolutely scared of them (I have met a few, personaly); so the incorporation to it not only gives such a creepy image, but is an awesome call back to the culture.

The one where is raining on Mirabel's side of the house is also a perfect example of Magical Realism; the author whose work was first referred to as magical realism (in literature) had a short story called The Rain, in the story, the rain represents love, it doesn't really have much to do with the story in Encanto or the concept art on itself, just something that I remembered.

In Hundred years of Solitude, it rains for four years and the rain starts eating away the Buendías's house and destroying their fortune, and the decline of the house is what start of the town's decline as they're linked to the family.

I always said that Encanto was like a super sanitized and family friendly version of Hundred years of Solitude, and honestly I can see that a lot in the concept art, much more easily than in the movie

And to me, the biggest expression of Magical Realism in the concept art, is this one:

the mundane mixing with the nonsensical and magic, but the being accepted as part of the natural world without further questioning. And here's more of this on other of the concept art:

Magical realism as a term started being referred to art styles that depict something that objetively normal, has an uncanny element and often somewhat satirical. However, as a genre in literature, it started in Latin America, inspired by surrealism.

Is not just magic, is magic within a mundane world and being accepted as part of their lives. Latinoamerican literature tends to be fatallistic and crude; and magical realism follows similar steps, because the fantasy element isn't taken as something grandiose and something capable of solving every problem; the contrary, it just becomes something that just happens, and life goes on, and this usually means tragedy and death as well.

The magic isn't the cause, nor the solution, not even helpful because these stories kept on being harsh and sometimes cruel, in a sense Magical Realism reminds me more of Gothic Horror than Fantasy. Thousands years of solitude has these magic, fantastic elements, but it keeps on being a tale of the cyclical misery of the Buendías, that doesn't end until their entire destruction along with Macondo.

The Buendías aren't even meant to be liked (as in, good people), because they're supposed to be a selfish self-obssesed, land owners and the elite group that ruins the lives of others and keep digging their own graves.

For another example, the story that i mentioned, The Rain not only has a social commentary, but it ends in a very bitter sweet note, with a couple finally seeing the rain after a drought, but losing the kid that magically rekindled their love for each other. A lot of latinoamerican literature ends with painfully bittersweet, if not outright hopeless endings (Chronicle of a Death Foretold literally tells you, just with the title, what you will get into. Is a very cruel story and it has zero closure, the original "Dead dove do not eat/I don't know what i was expecting". Another example, Dead Houses is...well, is a bit more hopeful, but the cruelty is there and right on the face.)

Neither of these things fit very well for a disney family friendly movie, but just the fact they dared to show us Pedro's death and it being the origin of Encanto is a good enough attempt.

And a lot of these concept art does give a very dark tone, visually. I can see the attempt at trying to mix the whimsical of usual disney movies and the crudeness of the genre it takes its inspiration.

Another little bits that make me think of Encanto and Hundred Years of Solicitude, is that something important in the novel's narrative, is that Macondo is kinda trapped in time, both because of how remote the town is, but also because of the magic element; the huge impact of the town when outsiders and new technology arrives sometimes is taken as another magic element (they see ice, and believe it must be magic). Encanto has a similar setting, the exact time is taking place is hard to determine and there's some anacronisms. And also, the soap opera that Bruno's rats are "playing" is literally a nod to two characters in TYS; Amaranta Úrsula and Aureliano.

In the final version of the movie, some of these vibes the concept art shows was lost, but at its core it retains the key elements of magical realism! However, sometimes I wonder what would have someone like Guillermo del Toro done with the basic plot of Encanto, I have the strong suspicion that we would have ended with something much, much closer to actual magical realism

Ending this with, idk, watch Encanto. Or even better, read some latinoamerican literature (besides Gabriel García Márquez, whom I have a beef with. Can I suggest Julio Córtazar, Pilar Romero, Isabel Allende, Liliana Bodoc, Angelica Gorodischer, Juan Rulfo, Miguel Otero Silva, and Horacio Quiroga?)

[clawsdevour]

｡. ˚oikawa husband hcs

wc: 0.6k content warning: post-time skip, fluff, goofy silly husband oikawa, not proofread

っ ᐟ˒𓂂

-Oikawa, the type of husband to love to just hold your hand. Everytime he does though, he always looks at it to admire the ring he picked out for you the moment he knew you were the one. He can't help but smile and kiss the small gem while admiring the luck.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to absolutely love laughing with you. It's not that he likes laughing but more of hearing you laugh with him. He enjoys silly little moments where you get to laugh off a small mistake or just simple tickle fights.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to plan little "slumber parties" with you. He'd go out his way to buy little pouches of face masks and cut up little cucumbers for your eyes. While you're at it, Oikawa would also enjoy baking cookies to eat while you both binge-watch your current favorite shows. He loves doing little fun activities like these because you both get a chance to unwind and relax together.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to probably gossip with you about his volleyball team and old friends like how he met Hinata in Brazil. He loves telling you about his volleyball career as well since it's a big part of who he is and he appreciates how you love every version of him.. especially when you're real invested in the short volleyball gossip sessions.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to love ruining your cute couple selfies by making the goofiest faces mid pic until you get serious. Don't get me wrong, he enjoys taking selfies. But what he enjoys most is the memory behind the photos.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to give you his all. Every small effort he puts into you for instance, making you a simple breakfast. He puts every little thought into every action. Do you like bacon? He'd sizzle a fresh batch for you. Do you like your eggs whole or scrambled with salt and pepper? If you don't he wouldn't cook it that way. He remembers every little detail without you even realizing it.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to give you the best shoulder massages when you're having one of those days. He'd immediately notice your slight shift in energy and tell you to sit down in front of him while his fingers work that setter magic, relieving all the pent up stress and freeing up your tensed muscles while he reassures you with his comforting words.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to love going out on dates with you. He enjoys planning them, calling restaurants, booking flights, and overall going above and beyond for a good time with the one he loves the most. He truly loves to spoil you. He'd enjoy taking you out to foreign countries where you both can bask in the ambiance of new land where it's just you two.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to be a complete fatass for the food you cook. Doesn't matter if you're a bad or a good chef, he genuinely likes that you enjoy cooking for him. Every meal he eats, he can feel the love that you cooked it with every bite that just gets better. He's stuffing his cheeks full like a hamster to the point where he'd accidentally end up choking for water.

-Oikawa, the type of husband to definitely send you reels while he's out for work. He'd for sure be watching them and laugh when reading the comment section to the point where he has to send you the reels and sends screenshots of the comments he found the funniest. Oikawa would quite literally laugh in your dms saying stuff like "LOL HINATA DID THIS ONCE"

masterlist here

[inklore]

just a taste

premise: meeting luca after work doesn't usually end up with the two of you in an intense lip lock, both of you knowing once you start it's hard to stop. but that's what offices are for, right?

pairing: luca x (f)reader

word count: 3.1k

contents: literally barely any plot here, oral (f rec), unprotected p in v, coming inside, established relationship, doing it at the workplace, teasing, dirty talk, pet names.

note: i know the bare minimum about this man because i’ve never seen the bear but those tattoos, the accent, the hair?? fill me like an eclair is all i have to say ok!

The cool breeze of the night air almost makes you regret not just heading straight home and slipping under the steam of a nice long shower and grabbing the first blanket you see on the sofa and planting yourself there for the rest of the night. Await your boyfriend's arrival under the comfort of cotton and cushion that he’ll surely plop down next to you on after he’s kicked off his shoes. His cold fingers finding you under the blanket to pull you close to his side, a string of kisses pressed along the side of your neck before finding your lips. The smell of yeast and sugar—embedded in his skin at this point—making you bury your nose into his collarbone. 

But this was a ritual for the both of you. 

You finishing your studies and then meeting him after work. 

The two of you walking home together, barely making it through the threshold of your place before lips and clothes were being pressed together and thrown to the floor. Luca’s soft laugh at needing to shower. Thus always leading to your face pressed into the wall of the shower and Luca’s fingers digging into your hips as he thrust inside of you. 

So that nibble of regret doesn’t last long when you come to a stop in front of his work. The makings of anticipation pull at the corner of your mouth as you grab your phone from your bag and start to text him to let him know you’re out front. 

A text that’s barely on the last word when the breeze of the door is hitting you and making you look up, “you can go in. He's in the back.” a co-worker you’ve met a dozen times, but his name slips your mind as you give him an appreciative smile and thank him as you slip through the doors as he walks out. 

You could enter the kitchen a dozen times—a million, a billion—your nose filling with that sweet aroma, Luca bent over a table, a dish, fingers deep in a ball of dough, the monochromatic uniform making his tattoos stand out on his skin like the most beautiful canvas, and you’d never get over the view. 

Over how your insides react when you see him in his element.

See him doing what he loves. 

It’s like the first time every time. 

Just like the first time he dragged you into the kitchen after your tenth date. Showing you his own version of paradise. His love. His joy. The way his face lit up when your eyes brightened when you bit into the scone he had made—saved—for you. The euphoric sweetness a good dessert can do to one's brainstem is still a scientific mystery to you, but you’d gladly leave the research to the experts if you could experience it forever. 

Taste Luca’s creations forever. 

That memory seems like ages ago. Now well into two years of your relationship. 

Nothing seems to fade with Luca. 

Your first times feeling just as tortuous to your fluttering insides as the tenth or twentieth time around. 

It knocks you off kilter in the best way. 

And when you look over at Luca after dropping off your bag and sweater in an open chair, you can not help but laugh when he finally looks up from cleaning off the surfaces of the metal tables and that stone look of him being in chef mode falls from the creases of his face and his features melt into something soft. 

He doesn’t say anything until his arm is around your midsection, drawing you in. “Hi, beautiful.” He smiles as your lips meet in a long kiss. Kissing you as if he hasn’t seen you in days, as if he has spent the entire day waiting for this moment and this moment alone. “How was your day?” 

“Not as good as it is now,” you tease. Hand in the back of his hair, pulling his mouth back to yours. 

The hum that makes your lips buzz and that lands on your tongue as he backs you up so your back is pressed into the doorframe makes anything you could tell him about what happened in your day lackluster. Incomparable. How could you possibly think of anything worthwhile—how could anything be as worthwhile—as his tongue moving along your bottom lip, his hand at the side of your neck, his thumb rubbing a small circle into your skin? 

It couldn’t.

"Let me finish cleaning up," he smirks. Thumb and pointer reaching for your chin, squeezing it, luring you in for one last kiss before returning to cleaning and leaving you dazed in the doorway.  

And if you didn’t know how seriously Luca takes this, from the ritual of making pastries to maintaining a stern, clean kitchen, you would tell him to hurry. Complaining that it is not fair for him to kiss you like that and then make you wait for him to finish, but the payoff was always worth the wait. And you love Luca’s love for his craft. Love him in this element—watching him and seeing him go into that little part of his brain that makes him go into boss mode. 

The stern gentleness of it all. 

It’s breathtaking to watch.

It’s art.

He’s art. 

So that’s what you do. 

You push off the doorframe and enter further into the kitchen just to watch him. 

“How was your day?” You ask while watching him write on the white board in the corner. 

“Good. We got a new guy who came in.” 

“Is he any good?” 

“Better than he thinks he is.” 

“I bet you brought out his best. You always do.” You smile at him when you watch him shrug off the compliment, not missing the twitch of the corner of his mouth. Ever so modest. 

Wordlessly, he puts the cap back on the marker and sets it against the metal of the board, walking over to one of the refrigerators and pulling out a small bowl of something green and white. 

Something that looks too beautifully crafted to eat, let alone eaten by someone who might not fully understand what went into making something so decadent—something that looks like it would be served to someone with a gold card, not someone who eats boxed mac and cheese for dinner twice a week (which Luca always tries to make fancier than Kraft ever could). 

Luca hands you a spoon, “told him the only critic that mattered was sharing a bed with me.” You make a face, the both of you knowing how outlandish that sounds when the food genius himself is standing in front of you. The critic who mattered to a lot of people more than the girl who was sharing his bed. 

But it still brings a smile to your face. 

“Did he think you were utterly insane for such a statement? I think eating greasy takeout two nights in a row is five star dining.”

He chuckles, “you’re the only critic that matters to me.” His palms come down on the edge of the metal table between you as he leans against it. “The only important one at least. Try it.”

The swoop that runs through you from his words, from his eagerness to hear your thoughts on a dessert you do not even know the name of, but know you will appreciate more than anyone else because it came from someone he admires, makes your cheeks heat up. 

And when it touches your tongue, when that euphoric sweetness overcomes your tastebuds, you don’t think the English dictionary could come in handy with describing the taste. The goodness of it. Compliments, which you know Luca and his fellow chefs have heard many times before and then some. But still bring that artist's joy to their chests when your eyes widen and you look at them in something akin to shock. 

The moan you let out makes him grin.

“Good?”

“Is he single?” 

“Oh, that’s how it is, huh?” His arms cross over his chest, a playful brow raised.

You take another bite of the dessert, “I think you might want to start looking for another job.”

“And a girlfriend?”

You nod, “with something that tastes this good, I would give him my social security number easily. Oh my god.” You dramatically moan around the spoon, the action doing little to hide the simpering look on your face.

“Here I thought I was the only one who could make you spill such confidential secrets.” Luca strides across the table, coming to stand at your back. His lips pressing against the back of your neck and the top of your shoulder. 

Finding its home where your collarbone meets the junction of your throat, where he lets his warm breath blow against the known sensitivity there, then presses his lips to it. Making your back push into his front, your body melting against him. 

A soft noise lays dormant at the tail end  of your throat, making a ghost of a smirk etch against your skin from his mouth as he murmurs, “and the only one who can make those noises come out of you.”

Your voice is breathy when you say, “so much for being humble.”

"When it’s the truth, I do not need to be humble." His lips trailing to your ear, fingers running up the back of your exposed thighs, pulling up your skirt until they are at the apex of your hip, skating forward and close to your clothed mound. “Am I wrong? Should we see?” 

The spoon in your hand lucky you don’t have superhuman strength because it would be crushed in your grip right now. 

Luca’s fingers splay themselves across your pelvis, toying with the top of your underwear. “Hmm, awfully quiet now. Where’d my mouthy girl go?” An airy chuckle tickles your ear as he lets it out, “humbled are you?” 

There’s a teasing sneer forming on your mouth before it does a 180 and morphs into an ‘o’ as Luca’s fingers push into your underwear, the pad running through the clear as day arousal that’s been making your thighs clench uncomfortably since your kiss in the doorway. 

When the finger moves against your clit there's no covering up the gasps that fall from your lips. Or the way your ass grinds against the erection that’s pressing up against it. 

“Who’s humble now?” He teases. A cheeky grin on his face when he pulls his hand out from your underwear, bringing his finger to his lips and sucking it into his mouth. Making your cheeks heat even more when you turn to look at him. Your teasing turns needy as you give him that look, the one that always makes him drop whatever he is doing and have his body on yours within seconds. 

You both know that making it home now will feel ten times longer. Ten times more agonizing in the cool air with your warming bodies.

With you soaking your underwear and him hard against his zipper. 

So when he says “office”, all you can do is chew on your bottom lip in eagerness as you make a beeline towards it. Luca closer behind you than you expect when you hear the door shut seconds after you’ve entered and his mouth immediately on yours, your ass hoisted onto the nearest surface. 

Luca’s fingers making quick work to pull down your underwear, your skirt bunched at your hips. You fully expect him to pull himself up from his knees after slipping the lace from your ankle and tossing it to the floor. You expect him to come back up and slide inside of you quick and easy, but instead he’s trailing kisses and bites into your thighs. 

Blue eyes look up into yours, and he must see the need in them—that glint that tells him all you want is for him to be inside of you right now. The heady woes of foreplay just torture at this point. 

His teeth sink harder into your flesh, making you gasp. “I’ve worked hard all day; don’t I deserve a treat? A taste of the best dessert out there.” 

And how could you argue with that?

You can’t.

Not when his tongue runs from the bite mark in your skin to your wetness. Spreading you around him as he licks a stripe up your pussy. Your grip on the metal your ass is under hard and tight enough to leave marks against your palm. 

And as crude as it makes you sound, as obscene and cocky as it comes off your lips, you will never hold back from telling Luca that his talent as a chef will never outweigh how good he is with his mouth and cock. 

He’s multi-talented and it’s a blessing and a curse to your insides. 

“Oh, fuck. Luca,” your head hangs between your shoulders. Your fingers in his hair, the heel of your shoe pressed against his back—his apron long gone, leaving him in that navy blue—his fingers digging into the side of your thighs as he keeps you against his mouth. 

The mouth that’s switching between sucking your clit between his lips and rolling his tongue against it. Eating you like you’re the best dessert his tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting. 

It never takes him long to get you there. To make your chest heave and your nerve endings light up, as if they are about to make you panic from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure that is completely taking over your body. 

His fingers have created beautiful, mouth watering food, just as they’ve made you completely lose your mind. Your legs shaking around his head. Your back involuntarily bows until it hits the metal surface of the desk you’re perched on. 

It’s when he slips two fingers inside of you that you completely lose it. The sob that pulls itself from your lungs feels red-hot in your throat as your fingers grip the strands of his blonde hair as you come against his mouth. Your hips riding out your high. Rolling against his tongue in a languid way, drawing out the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

Your body still reeling and alight with that desire-train that still has it wanting more. That heavy ache between your legs that wants to be filled. To be fucked by something bigger and thicker than a finger.

Your mouth comes down on the tabasco tattoo below Luca’s wrist in a gentle kiss, one of your favorites of his, when his hand comes to cup the back of your head to pull you up to him. 

His thumb runs from your cheek to your chin, where he pushes it up, so you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down at you as he stands between your legs. Your nails run along the tattoos along his arms, up his bicep, and to the nape of his neck. A fire burning in his eyes when your fingers run between the strands back there. 

“Tell me,” he says close to your lips. He’s checking in. Seeing if you’re too spent for his cock, seeing if there's more you want. If you want to wait until you get home. If you’re ready for him now. 

“It’d be cruel to not fuck me now.” You say it in a half-tease-half-serious tone. 

“Ooh,” he murmurs against your mouth, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “I don’t want to be cruel.” You can feel his other hand move between the two of you, undoing the button of his pants and messing with the zipper until he’s pulling himself out of them, hard and leaking. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she so desperately needs?” 

Luca smirks when you laugh into his mouth, “the worst kind.”

With one last kiss, lick, and nip at your lower lip, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit, making your thighs shake. Nails dig into his skull as he soaks up your oversensitivity to coat himself before going lower and slipping inside of you in one slow, fluid motion. 

Your mouth hung open at the stretch, and your breath caught in your lungs. Your foreheads resting against each other as you let your walls accommodate his girth, both of your breaths heavy. The pounding you can feel between your legs—that you’re not sure is coming from him or you or something more poetic and overwhelming like your conjoined bodies aching as one, like a heartbeat aches for a chest cavity when it’s torn from a body. 

The two of you need this. 

Need each other. 

When Luca starts moving, you know the two of you are both completely fucked. Spent and so full of desire that you know your time in this office is just the start of a long night of tangled limbs and wet mouths. 

The sounds you are making against each other's mouth are breathy and intoxicating. His tongue in your mouth swallows every mewl and moan he coaxes from your body with each stroke of his cock. 

His fingers find the back of your head again, not allowing you to even think about leaving his mouth. 

You think you see stars when his palm finds the back of your thigh and pulls your leg higher on his hips. Think you could let this man completely consume you, and you’d still never be satisfied. Never get over how good it feels to feel his hips drive deeper into you, to feel the head of his cock hit that spot inside of you that makes his name roll off your tongue like a prayer. 

“Who’s pussy is it, baby?” 

"Mm'fuck," you are not sure if he is still playing the game of you leaving him for the new chef or if his filthy mouth is attempting to completely destroy you—which is nothing new when he has you coating and tightening around his cock like this. 

When you say his name, when you whine it into his mouth like a pathetic desperation, the erotic noise that it’s met with makes you cling to him tighter. Makes you press yourself closer to him. The movement makes the outside of his pants grind against your clit. 

“So beautiful,” Luca murmurs. The octave of his voice grows lower and choppy with heavy breaths the closer he gets. Neither of you lasts much longer when his pace picks up. The grip the two of you have on each other is hard and rough, enough to tear and leave marks that you’ll later kiss with gentle lips, unlike the passion that’s coming through with the hard kisses your mouths are giving as you both come. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” He breathes into your mouth, twisting your insides even more. 

[bluecrocss]

Yes. You are racist. (Buckle up, this is gonna be a long one)

So approximately half a year since the premier of the Disney+ Percy Jackson show, and almost two years since the announcement of the Trio's casting, I would like to take this moment to look back at the insane, racist and anti-black backlash that was launched at Leah Sava Jeffries and a few other cast members from the PJO fandom.

I'm not concerned with the trolls who are openly racist, who resorted to racist slurs and outright threats, everyone agrees that they "took it too far". I want to talk about the rest of you, the "I'm not racist, but.." people, the "What's wrong with wanting book accuracy?" people. Just to let you know, for the unasked question... yes, yes you are.

I've noticed the Percy Jackson fandom has been lording some weird superiority complex over a certain *unnamed* fandom that has fallen out of grace due to their recently outed bigot of an author. But honestly, y'all are not much different. The amount of vitriol and anti-blackness I have seen from this fandom (beyond just bullying a 12 year old girl), y'all don't have a leg to stand on.

Below is a breakdown of the most common arguments I have seen used to justify y'alls absolutely insane bigotry. I am going to explain why none of these justify the amount of anger and vitriol y'all have sent towards Leah, Rick or any of the cast.

I am not here to argue, and this is not a democracy. I am giving you a chance for some self-reflection and to understand that this pattern of violence directed towards POC actors (mostly black women) has never been justified in the name of "book accuracy"/"comic book accuracy"/"ending forced diversity" or whatever other excuses y'all try to make up.

If you still try to justify or argue further for any of these points, I will just block you. I am not coddling you through your racism. If anyone has seen any other dumb arguments floating around that I might've missed, feel free to sound off in the comments.

She's not book accurate:

Neither is Percy, Luke, Grover, Dionysus, Poseidon, and just about every other named character.

Rick already made it clear that physical features were not the priority with casting, rather it was actors that embodied the role. So why are the biggest complaints about Annabeth and Zeus? 🤔

What? You're gonna say everyone else got backlash too? I see you trying to obscure the main issue by playing dumb 😉

See my friend, yes, there were one or two comments about how Percy's hair should be black or how Luke is supposed to be blonde, but as soon as Leah was cast, none of those actors got any significant backlash. In fact, Walker and Charlie literally have an army of fan girls at their beck and call, calling them the perfect Percy and Luke, despite neither being "Book accurate". But then again, have we not observed the pattern of White boy of the month vs WOC to hate for the year? (Yes, I know Charlie isn't white. Further adds to the irony, doesn't it).

Why include character descriptions if you won't stay true to them, you cry? Well, my dear sweet moron, see, books and TV are two different mediums. Because in literature, you can't *Literally* SEE the characters, the author has to add descriptions to paint a picture in your mind, in TV... that's not an issue. So unless the character's appearance is necessary to the plot (like Luke's scar, or Nico being Italian) the show runners can actually focus on more important things.. Like ACTING and PERSONALITY.

2. It's just not how I imagined her:

News flash, babe! ANNABETH ISN'T REAL. None of these character are. They are concepts that originated from the brain of Mr. Rick Riordan. It doesn't matter how YOU imagined her. There are millions of people who read these books that imagined her several different ways. When the creator of the character watched Leah's audition and said, 'Yes! She embodies the character I created!", your imagined version of Annabeth ceased to matter. And guess what? The books still exist... they have not been burned. Your version of Annabeth has not disappeared. Go read the books.

3. Zeus can't be black/Gods have to be Greek/*Insert Character* can't be black:

Y'all did not read the books, I swear. You have to be fake fans looking to troll atp.

The gods move based off the center of western civilization. They change their forms/environment to reflect the culture they are occupying (they did it with Rome, now they're doing it with America). The gods change forms all the time. How we see them is not their true form as a mortal would disintegrate if they were to see their true form.

America is a cultural melting pot (specifically NY where Mount Olympus is now based). If the god's choose forms that reflect the current society they inhabit, they could literally be any race (keep in mind NYC is only 33% white).

All of this is literally SPELLED OUT in the Lightning Thief.

Furthermore, if you're going to push the ethnically Greek thing... Poseidon is British with a British accent and Hermes is Latino. The only ethnically Greek actor is Dionysus (who still doesn't look book accurate). Y'all are sounding like some white supremacists because do you forget that race is a social construct?

Before the advent of the transatlantic slave trade, I can promise you that the Greeks and the Anglo-Saxons did NOT view themselves as the same people. Why are y'all not taking issue with Poseidon's actor then?

Also, Percy Jackson has canonically had a slew of explicitly black demigods since the second book (including Harriet Tubman, which I have mixed feelings about 😭), so I genuinely have no idea where some of y'all are going with this point.

4. She was our smart blonde representation:

Don't pmo. I swear to God!

White, blonde women have NEVER been excluded from Hollywood. Representation is not something you lacked. The dumb blonde stereotype was a simple branch off of a larger misogynistic "dumb woman" stereotype. It has not truly been relevant since the mid 2000s outside of childish jokes.

This iteration of Percy Jackson will probably not go beyond the first 5 books, based off pacing and the age of the actors. So here's a fun game: 5 bucks to the first person who can find me a quote in the first 5 Percy Jackson books, where Annabeth laments her insecurities about being blonde (hint: there aren't any).

Also, her blonde hair does not hold her back at Camp because she is head of the Athena Cabin who are highly respected (and guess what?), ARE ALL BLONDE!

Her insecurities about her hair color are two or three lines at most in the later books, not this fundamental, core part of her character y'all all of a sudden wanna pretend it was. And guess what, as a non-blonde black girl, I was able to read those scenes of Annabeth feeling undervalued because of her looks and relate to her even if she didn't look like me at the time.

Why all of a sudden can y'all not do that with a black Annabeth? By every metric black girls are undervalued for their intelligence in academia more than white girls are, regardless of hair color. So your little representation of a woman undervalued by her looks would still hold. Do y'all dehumanize black women so much, that you are incapable of empathizing with show!Annabeth's plight in the way I could with Book!Annabeth simply because she doesn't look exactly like you?

Your issue isn't that she isn't blonde, it's that she is NOT WHITE.

Furthermore, Becky Riordan had tweeted previously (before the show was even cast) that Annabeth never needed to be blonde (probably recalling the BS y'all put Alexandra Daddario through), so even if they cast a white Annabeth, the blonde hair was never a guarantee. the author and producers all agree that it was not a significant part of her character. It's been a non-issue since day one.

Also, stop acting like smart blondes are rare in media... If you don't go watch some Legally blonde, Iron Man (Pepper Potts), Zack and Cody (Maddie), Liv and Maddie, FMAB (Winry), Captain Marvel, She-Ra, Buffy, The boys (starlight) etc. etc., and go sit down somewhere 🙄🙄🙄 (those were literally all things I've watched recently, off the top of my head, btw 💀)

5. It's not about race, but...:

Yes it is. It was always bout race. No other actors got as much hate as Leah. Her grandmother and other family members on IG had to mute their comments because they were getting so many threats.

Alexandra Daddario had to come to her defense on Twitter. Rick had to put out an official statement on his website. This girl has endured years of psychological torment for simply having the best audition. No one else is book accurate, no one else is ethnically Greek (except Jason Mantzoukas). Walker literally has British and German ancestry.

Why was she being called racial slurs on reddit and in youtube comments?

I know what you're gonna say, "I actually had problems with the entire cast", "I actually had a bigger issue with Walker's hair color", blah blah blah. Then why aren't you in Walker's comment sections? Why are you only making your displeasure known on posts defending/advocating for Leah? Why is she always your first example of 'wrong casting"?

Well, she "looks the most different"... Look up the term "scapegoating".

"Oh, I don't agree with the harassment. I just don't like the casting." Guess what? She's already been cast. They are not going to uncast her. What do you get out of still complaining about it.

All the vitriol you're stirring about her when you complain about her on Social media, it is directing people to send her hate, even if you're not writing it directly. It's is not enough to "not agree" with the racism, it is your duty to actively prevent it. And btw, these are young gen z actors, they are active on social media. They see the edits of themselves (even comment on it) and they most likely see these little "harmless" complaints you're posting. Are your upset feelings really worth contributing to the racist dogpile on this poor girl?

6. Why couldn't they atleast give her blonde braids?:

Why should they? Y'all wanted blonde because of the "dumb blonde" trope... that doesn't apply to POC.

A blonde black girl is gonna be viewed the same as a non-blonde black girl (or at worst, someone might decide she's "ratchet" or some shit for wearing colored hair). What difference would it make?

Why shouldn't Walker dye his hair, then?

7. Annabeth has Gray eyes:

Less than 3% of the global population has "gray eyes". Even if they cast a white actor, they would've needed contacts. Her being black is not the reason Annabeth's eyes aren't gray. Simply put, it is a plot element they removed, like the whole "names have power" element, or Ares having flames for eyes, or Dionysus using his powers to grow strawberries at Camp.

That's how adaptations work. Unnecessary plot elements are cut to save time and budget. This has nothing to do with her casting. They probably also didn't want to make child actors wear contacts (not a new practice).

8. Even if Rick chose her, he was wrong/Disney is forcing him to be okay with it:

Where do I start? Rick created the character. He can't be wrong. Do y'all have no self-awareness? Death of the author has no place here, because y'all are hung up on an aspect of the character that is not relevant to her arc or development.

Y'all's justification for wanting a "book accurate" Annabeth is that she was such an inspirational and important character growing up, and yet your behavior is so in conflict with the character you claim means so much to you. You're narrow minded, dismissive of bigotry and injustice, and disrespectful to the wishes of the creator of your favorite character; everything that Annabeth would never be. Y'all were never genuine fans of the books. You're bigots that needed an outlet for your rage.

Keep in mind, Rick has said countless times that PercaBeth directly mirrors his relationship with his wife. Y'all think he would have allowed them to cast someone who doesn't live up to the woman who has been by his side for decades? The mother of his children?

Regarding Disney forcing him, show me one piece of direct evidence that proves Disney in anyway pressured Rick to cast her. Cuz if you can't, that's baseless speculation. And if you have to resort to baseless speculation, maybe try to examine why it's so important to you to hold on to this belief.

9. So, I'm racist because I hate "race swapping"?:

To start, there is a difference between "race swapping" and "color blind casting". Often times, when y'all complain about the former, you're actually mad about the latter.

It would be "race swapping" if Rick and the team decided ahead of time that they wanted a black Annabeth and ONLY allowed black actors to audition. But the actual reality was that they accepted auditions from everyone (there were white actors and non-black poc that also auditioned for the role) and chose the best person who embodied the role. They didn't "make Annabeth black" and they didn't "make Zeus black", they cast black actors for those roles.

Y'all think you're being slick with your wording. Dismissing that is implying that they did not earn their roles fair and square. Which is racist. It's the equivalent of going up to a black college student and telling them they only got in because of affirmative action. You're dismissing the achievements of a person solely because of their racial background.

For all you people complaining about "unfairness" and "forced diversity", I would think hiring based on merit would appeal to you 🤔

71% of theatrical Hollywood leads were white in 2024 in comparison to 29% POC and you still think "black washing" is a thing? You still get this angry over a black person fairly earning a role because you think in a time where Hollywood only knows to do remakes and adaptations, that the majority of lead roles still *have* to be reserved for white actors?

Once again, white people have never been excluded from Hollywood for being white. Representation has never been something you lacked nor is it something you can lose. Your anger comes from seeing a black face where you think they don't belong. Because you feel you are owed a disproportion of representation in Hollywood.

10. Woke agenda/DEI/Forced Diversity:

If you are unironically using any of these terms in a negative light, it's already too late for me to reason with you. Look up the term "dog whistle". If you are sharing the same terminology with Elon Musk and his fanboys, maybe reevaluate some things.

POC are objectively underrepresented and have been historically excluded through actual laws and policies in Hollywood. There is no such thing as "forced diversity", you have bought in to a right wing conspiracy theory.

"Woke" is a term that was intentionally appropriated from the black community. It originally meant being aware of injustice and systematic threats to the community and is now being weaponized by bigots. Good job.

Diversity and inclusion is a good thing.

11. But POC deserve to have their own stories told:

We do. And we have been fighting for it for over a century now, and we've made great strides, no thanks to y'all.

No thanks to y'all gaslighting us about how little representation we get or that representation matters at all. No thanks to y'all pushing the idea that POC can't sell globally and obscuring POC actors in international promos. No thanks to y'all continuing to whitewash even to this day (Bullet train, the beguiled, gods of Egypt, atla, every portrayal of Jesus ever, etc.). No thanks to y'all calling every piece of media that has more than one black lead and more than one queer couple "woke". No thanks to y'all throwing a fit every time a black person in a fantasy setting isn't a slave.

Fact of the matter is, y'all never cared about POC "getting their own stories", you're only parroting our own words back to us now as a politically correct way of saying, "leave white roles alone" lmao

Well fun fact, actors of color getting opportunities to play lead roles and allowing poc to "tell their own stories" are not mutually exclusive. If y'all cared that much, instead of bullying a 12 year old actress, you could actually support up and coming independent POC writers, directors, and studios 😱

12. Studios need to stop "setting up" actors of color:

Do me a favor and google the term DARVO.

Your racism is not the fault of the studios for giving a POC actor a role that they earned. It is not up to the rest of society to tiptoe around racists to avoid their vitriol. It is our responsibility to hold them accountable and protect minorities from unwarranted hate. At most, you can say it's the responsibility of the studios to provide adequate support to POC actors who face this backlash.

At the end of the day, Hollywood only allows very few spots for POC actors (especially WOC), while simultaneously pushing a new white boy every month to put in everything. Putting minorities in these roles that are usually closed to them, usually opens the door to more actors of color than before.

Brandy being cast as Cinderella did a lot to push her into the mainstream (yes, she was already extremely famous in the black community atp), Halle Berry being the first, black, bond girl literally shot her to icon status, and even going as far back to what Anna Mae Wong did for Asian American actresses with her "femme fatale" roles.

At the end of the day, even with the backlash, *some* rep does more good for POC actors than *no* rep. The solution to racist backlash isn't to take away those opportunities, but rather to not be racist??? 🙄

Also, for everyone that claims that "POC race-swapping" is just as bad as "white-washing", despite white washing having a longer history and objectively causing more harm, note how the backlash to white washing never lasts as long as the harassment that POC get.

Like, no one brings up Scarlett Johansson's ghost in the shell role anymore, but you can best believe Candace Patton is still fending off racist trolls. As much as people hated the atla movie, people moved on quick from Nicola Peltz playing Katara since she was just a kid that accepted the role (re: daddy bought her the role), but y'all would not have any of that consideration for Leah Sava Jeffries.

But I digress...

13. What if we made Tiana white? Wakanda white? Hazel white...:

Ah, my favorite inane point. I was so excited to get here :)

See, I could start out by pointing out how "White washing" and casting a POC actor as a traditionally white character are not equivalent.

I could point out the history of hollywood ACTIVELY excluding POC actors and POC stories. I could point out how grossly over represented white people are in hollywood. I could point out that POC characters are so few in comparison that whitewashing them causes actual harm, where white people have never lacked rep.

I could point out how, because poc characters and stories are so often tokenized that their racial/cultural background is often directly tied to their character's identity, in opposition to a lot of white characters, since hollywood treats white as the "Default".

See, I could make all those points, but the thing is, the people who make this argument already know all that. They are trying to waste time by drawing me into a pointless circular argument that will sum up to "fair is fair", while ignoring all the context and nuance I previously provided.

So you know what? Forget it. Let me play your game.

I am actually fine with a white Tiana. Would it make sense, for her and her family to experience Jim Crow era racism, in the south while white? No. But we can look past it. Disney was never known for historical accuracy anyway 🤷🏿‍♀️

However, in exchange, the live action frozen will have a black Elsa and Anna, live action Rapunzel will be black, live action Merida will be black, we're re-filming Cinderella and Beauty and the beast to cast a black belle and Cindy, snow white will need to be recast as black, and we also get aurora whenever the live action sleeping beauty is announced. But then y'all can keep Tiana, deal?

You want a white T'Challa? Fine! (I'm partial to Ryan gosling), in the meantime, we'll be recasting Iron man, Captain America (Steve version), Bruce banner, Thor, Loki, hawk eye, black widow, ant man, captain marvel, Bucky, Peter Parker etc. All the avengers and their side characters, then y'all can have Sam Wilson, war machine and the whole of Wakanda (will it make sense that a sole, hidden, African nation is randomly made up of white people? Who cares? We get the avengers!).

You want white Hazel? You got her! I hope you have no problem with us taking Percy, Nico, Will, Poseidon, Jason, calypso, Rachel, Tyson, Silena, the stoll brothers, Sally Jackson, Hades, Hepheastus, ares, etc. But y'all can have Hazel and Beckendorf.

If we're gonna do this, let's commit all the way. Fair is fair, after all.

14. Leah isn't as "pretty" as Book Annabeth/Movie Annabeth:

I wish I could say this wasn't a genuine point I had read, but when all else fails, they will always go for a woman's appearance.

Now first of all, as a rule, I will never hold black women to white beauty standards. Our hair will never be long and silky enough, our nose will never be narrow enough, our skin will never be fair enough and our eyes will never be light enough (Might I recommend Toni Morrison, when you get the chance?). But Leah is unfairly gorgeous idc what any of you say, and you're not gonna have me use my defense of Leah as an opportunity to bash Alexandra either because she is also beautiful. These two queens slayed to the best of their abilities within this toxic ass fandom.

I find it funny, however, that so many of you harped on the "blonde" issue because you thought it was important that Annabeth be seen beyond just her looks, but quickly devolve to bashing an actress's looks when it comes to why she's not right for this role 🤔

I would also like to sincerely apologize that the 13 year old girl they cast in the show, wasn't as sexually attractive to you as the 24 year old woman they cast in the movie and sexualized through like 25% of her screen time (I'm actually not sorry. You're very weird if this is an actual point for you).

15. I don't agree with sending hate to the actor, but she's just not right for the role:

Once again, what are you doing by complaining about her casting on no other basis than her race?

The creator of the character said she embodied the role. She has already been cast, and Disney would be in a legal/production hell to recast her atp. Just because you're not directly leaving comments on her social media doesn't mean you're not part of the hate mob.

No matter how you look at it, your issues with her casting come from a very entitled and narrow-minded place. When you join in on these dialogues you are bolstering a sentiment that pushes more people to harass this teenage girl. When you leave these "harmless" complaints, on show content, fan posts or posts defending her, she's liable to read them because the cast regularly interact with fans online.

What do you have to say that is so important that it trumps protecting a young girl from the long-staying trauma of racism, of being told she doesn't deserve something she worked for because of how she was born?

16. I can't even criticize the show without being called racist:

Get. Over. Yourself.

Y'all are not the victim. Have fans of the show gotten protective of Leah and the young cast? Yes.

With good reason. This fandom is unbearably toxic.

Racism outweighs your need for a "perfect adaptation", sorry.

If you explain yourself properly and keep your critiques fair (like, even I don't think this was a perfect season, and will be sharing my thoughts shortly), no one is gonna call you racist.

You're preempting with that because in all honesty, you're probably planning to use your "critiques" of the show to pivot to one of the many points that I just outlined, and you want to pre-empt the criticism.

If a black Annabeth is the end all be all for you, just don't watch the show, no one's holding a gun to your head. Geez.

17. I'm Black/POC and I don't agree...:

Hey, Candace Owens... No one gives a shit.

First of all, for all the "I'm POC and I don't agree" people, you don't speak for us. Anti-blackness is rampant in just about every culture globally. You being not-white doesn't somehow make you less prone to hating black people.

But for the "I'm black and I don't agree" leftovers (assuming you're not just a 👩🏼‍💻 behind a keyboard). Black people are not a monolith. You're not obligated to think a certain way because you're black.

But consider why you're putting yourself up as a barrier to protect this hate mob. It's one thing to just state why you don't like Leah's casting, but to start off your spiel with "I'm actually black" as a way to weaponize the very identity politics you're critiquing... very strange. Not to mention, what are you defending?

The black community is coming together to defend one of our own, a kid who has been receiving death threats since she was 12, and this is when you feel the need to back the opposition?

I mean whatever... sometimes the house slaves would snitch to the master. There will always be some of y'all in the woodwork. It is what it is.

But when the exact ideology you defend is turned against you, when a Baltimore elected official is being accused of getting his job through "DEI", when conservatives are claiming that they wouldn't "trust a black pilot", don't decide that's where you'll finally draw your line in the sand.

All that being said, This is my Annabeth:

May every tongue that rose against Leah Sava Jeffries Shrivel and die in 2025 🙏🏿 My girl will keep winning ❤️

(video by @/waleahhasmyheart on TikTok)

[dewdropple]

I've been thinking a lot about Look Outside recently, and I've seen a few posts floating around about how the theme of the game is kindness and generosity rewarding the player. And while yes, typically if you are kind and open the door for strangers or if you don't kill the roaches or if you sacrifice yourself instead of rat baby, you'll get more friends and more people joining your party. However, I don't think that's a core theme of the game. I think it's about what makes a monster a monster.

To start, the game isn't like Undertale in that how kind you are directly affects the ending. The game truly doesn't care how you play, whether you play more paranoid or if you go out of your way to make every friend you can find. There is no social consequences for killing people other than they won't be around in the future. No one cares, and especially the game itself doesn't care.

But asking the player what makes a monster? That's everywhere.

Early on, the game does a very good job with coupling the idea that looking outside = corrupted/transformed = non-human = dangerous. Your first instict when you see someone who has been infected or mutated is to fight, even if early on it's fighting back or risk being killed yourself. But then as the game progesses, it shows you more and more examples of people who have been exposed to the outside but who still have their wits. They don't look human, but they sure have their humanity still.

How many monsters did Sam (and the player) steamroll through because he thought they were hostile? How many people still had their minds but didn't have a mouth to tell Sam to stop?

What makes a monster? One who looks like one? Or one who acts like one?

The game wrestles with Sam's humanity. At one point, he talks to himself in the mirror, that what he's doing is wrong. That he's breaking and entering people's apartments to steal literally everything he can and then killing them in their own homes. Is he a monster himself? He doesn't look like one, he's not infected, and he had to do those things, right? Even as the player talks Sam through justifing Sam's actions, it helps plant the seed that being a monster is more than looks.

I do think it's fitting, then, that the arguably best ending doesn't care how many people you saved or spared, or how ruthless you were in the apatment building. If you successfully complete the ritual, you lose your humanity and become the biggest monster of all. The only change comes from choosing to become a monster in the mind as well. A miniature version of the Visitor that either saves everyone with his monstrous size and appearance, or slowly chokes the world out with his near-infinite reach.

(Not to mention the failed ritual ending where he becomes corrupted while staring at himself in the mirror, or the other endings where he directly introduces someone or something to the Visitor and causes the end of the world that way.)

Sam becomes a monster either way, and his actions help solidify the notion that they're more important than appearance.

There could be more said about how the majority, if not all, of the chatacters are bipoc and what it means to be a monster for them, that due to no choice of their own, society deems them dangerous because of how they look. But it's really late and I need to get to bed.

Something could also be said about covid and a pandemic and how society treats disabled people, but that's for another time. There's just so many layers to this game.

[distant-screaming]

I need to elaborate. oikawa and kaiser have twitter beef because one time kaiser posts a selfie around the same time oikawa does and he gets more likes. makki (who only really follows kaiser bc he's hot) immediately shares this information with everyone he knows, oikawa included. oikawa laughs and says it's a fluke, and to prove it he posts a gym selfie immediately after he sees kaiser post one. his ass does not get more likes.

literally.

still, whatever. oikawa is a mature adult. he's fine. then, by some funny alignment of the stars, one of kaiser's many interviews comes out. this one's about inter-sport relationships, or something. he's asked 'who do you think has the best social media presence in the volleyball athletes community?' and kaiser says. fucking. kageyama tobio.

and. well. that's that.

oikawa starts praying on kaiser's downfall. he starts vagueposting. he's suddenly following like, everyone on the u20 team Except Kaiser Specifically. he, with his public verified account, starts commenting snide things under kaiser's posts. which is like, it's oikawa, he always does that, it's fine, except one time he brings up kaiser's shitty haircut and oh it is ON. well, to ness. kaiser doesn't even really register oikawa. so now ness is replying to the official volleyball team twts and it's honestly a pr nightmare, from all ends, but it's also good publicity in a sense? so no one really does anything about it? and kaiser himself is mostly chill, he thinks it's funny and oikawa isn't all that important until.

until.

now, some important context: isagi and mattsun are mutuals. granted, isagi might not entirely even know what that means, but they follow each other and are vaguely familiar.

one morning, mattsun is on twitter and sees a passive aggressive comment left by oikawa being rt'ed by ness and has a mind blowing idea. so he sits up in bed and dms isagi.

three hours later, he gets a response. an additional fifteen minutes later, a post is up on isagi yoichi's official account for the whole world to see:

@/setter-oikawa could definitely beat @/kaiser_ if he got into football lol

fucking mattsun.

at first, nothing happens. well, football-twitter does implode a little bit, but nothing new. and then oikawa responds with a passive aggressive version of 'yeah, I've seen his matches you're totally right lol!!!'

okay.

let it never be said kaiser is not a petty, petty bitch. all of a sudden, he's best friends with half the social media volleyball players. he's ratio-ing the fuck out of oikawa's posts. he tracks down kageyama, sets up a photoshoot with both of them involved and pays extra to make sure it's plastered all around the argentina team's practice spaces. every single post oikawa makes, he's There. not to be outdone, oikawa doubles his haterism efforts. their follower counts double.

and really this is all makki's fault. and mattsun.

[sunsetsover]

the more this show goes on the more i just genuinely don't get how people hate kant, or at the very least have no empathy for him and his situation.

kant is a man literally built of sacrifice. in so many ways he sacrificed his own life for babe's. over and over and over again. his grief for babe's. his education for babe's. his happiness for babe's safety and security. his social life in order to stay at home taking care of babe. relationships with partners who didn't take any interest in babe, or didn't want the baggage of a man with a dependent. whatever dreams or aspirations he had for himself fell to the wayside, at least temporarily, in favour of supporting babe.

he sacrificed his own freedom every time he stepped out of their house to go and steal a car - something that he so clearly isn't proud of at all - just so babe can get the education he deserves. the fact that he wasn't caught doesn't matter, he went to altar every single time, willing to be caught and slaughtered like a lamb if it meant babe was good.

and then he was finally caught, and he sacrificed himself in brand new ways just so he could stay out of prison. never mind the fact that kant might not have even gone to prison if it was his first offence and he played the system right, and even if he did it wouldn't have been for long. but that wasn't a chance he could ever take, because who would look after babe if he was gone, even for a few months? who would pay for school and make sure he ate? and so he stayed willingly under christ's thumb for god only knows how many years, playing whatever new versions of big brother he had to be, ingratiating himself with drug dealers and thieves and whatever other kinds of dangerous people christ wanted him to, getting himself onto all these people's bad side knowing it would only take one to figure him out and turn on him and put him in hospital, or worse. but that was a sacrifice he willingly made the moment he pulled his grieving baby brother into his arms and said 'i'll take care of him'.

and here it is, the ultimate sacrifice: christ tells kant to jump into the lion's den, promising that if he makes it out alive, he can have his freedom back. and what choice does kant have? if he doesn't they'll be back to square one after he worked so fucking hard for his and babe's stability. and babe's old enough now that kant can start having a life again, and kant's business is doing well, and things are finally good for them, but now this. and if he doesn't do this it will have all been for nothing. so he does it. essentially puts his life up as collateral once again the moment he walks through the door of heart burger and tries to seduce an assassin, knowing it could be taken from him in an instant if he missteps.

except it doesn't go as he planned, because bison is beautiful and bison is bright, and he's sweet and he's dangerous and kant can't help but fall for him, no matter how he tries to dig his heels in and think about the end goal: his freedom, his brother's safety. he says as much to style - style says bison has you wrapped around his finger and kant says i know. that's why i'm trying to end things quickly. and in that moment bison becomes yet another sacrifice kant makes for babe. or at least he's trying so hard to make him one. because what kant wants, he cannot have. not when there's babe to think about.

but it's so unfair. and it's so sad. like yes we all know it's unfair for bison and it'll be such a betrayal, but what about kant? what about his heart in all of this? what about him giggling at his phone screen like a teenager texting bison, only for the grin to fall the moment he remembers who he is and what he must do? what about him acknowledging that he's working so hard to hold bison at arms length but he's failing and that's why he needs this over asap? what about him having to be on all the fucking time, spewing out lie after lie after lie, and what that does that him? what about him being so fucking scared every time a gun is shoved in his face that he's fucked up in a way he can't talk himself out of and that babe will be left all alone in the world?

what about kant having this beautiful boy in his bed, who's kissing him in places he's never been kissed before and telling him that he loves his fuck ups, and that he won't come over because doesn't want to be a bad influence on babe, and that him stealing cars was not only not a shameful thing, but an admirable thing to do for someone you love? this beautiful boy who notices his brother is hurting and follows him to defend him from the people that hurt him without question? this beautiful boy who has asked for nothing but the truth, the one thing kant can never give him? this beautiful boy that kant is falling for, and he knows he is, and he knows he can't, because that's not allowed, because bison isn't his, he doesn't get to keep him. he's just another sacrifice in a long line of sacrifices kant has made for love, and yet this one... this one has claws. this one will leave scars that he'll get to keep longer than he will ever get to keep bison.

kant has been living with an asterisk next to his name from the moment his parents died. from then on, at every opportunity kant sacrificed who he might've been for who babe still could be. he sacrificed kant the person for kant the big brother, and whatever that included. kant the protector. kant the provider. kant the thief, the scammer, the informant. kant the manipulator. never just kant, not anymore.

but then there's bison. beautiful, observant bison who always seems to be asking who are you whenever he looks at kant. and kant doesn't know what to tell him, he really doesn't, bc whatever mask he tries to put on, whatever facade he tries to hide behind, bison just sees right through him. and although kant does everything possible to avoid telling him anything, bison always seems to get his answers anyway, even when kant doesn't say a word. like bison is collecting every splintered version of kant and putting them together to make a whole person again. just kant. no asterisk.

and kant doesn't know what to do, because bison is beautiful and he's in his bed and he has kant wrapped around his finger despite his best efforts. and yet he knows it's only of time before he has to peel himself away and never look back. let bison sit in the prison cell that was always supposed to be kant's. and despite how he might try to convince himself otherwise, he knows the guilt will eat him alive. he knows he'll feel the place where he tore them apart just as acutely as bison will. he'll have to splinter apart into a thousand versions of himself all over again. kant with an asterisk. and he'll have no one to blame but himself.

and isn't that just so fucking unfair?

[lcvebuckley]

kiss it better

written for @bucktommyfluffebruary

prompt : day 1 - non-sexual intimacy | word count : 2.3k | rated : G

it's officially fluffebruary month yay! i will be participating in this event for at least (hopefully) half the prompts so please look forward to that! other than fics i will also be doodling 👀

enjoy! ♡

Tommy's shift had been grueling. He was assigned to do ground ops which were never easy, and today was particularly rough—two building fires and two rescues that required crawling through tight, suffocating spaces. The scratches and cuts on his arms and face were simply part of the job, nothing new. He didn't mind though, it's not like he's not used to being hurt on the job. So he didn't really understand why he got scolded right when he arrived home.

Or in which Tommy got hurt on the job and Buck has a solution.

full version below or read on ao3

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Tommy's shift had been grueling. He was assigned to do ground ops which were never easy, and today was particularly rough—two building fires and two rescues that required crawling through tight, suffocating spaces. The scratches and cuts on his arms and face were simply part of the job, nothing new. He didn't mind though, it's not like he's not used to being hurt on the job.

So he didn't really understand why he got scolded right when he arrived home.

It was late when Tommy left after his shift and he thought about getting takeout for dinner, assuming Evan had fallen asleep since he hasn't replied to his recent texts. But the truth was, Tommy didn’t have the energy to eat. All he wanted was to get home, fall into bed, and bury himself in Evan’s arms, where the scent of his boyfriend would lull him into instant comfort.

Home.

Tommy liked calling Evan’s place home, even if they weren’t officially living together yet. For weeks now, he’d been spending most nights at Evan’s loft, only going back to his own place when he needed fresh clothes or necessities.

There was something about Evan’s place that felt… grounding. While Tommy’s house was larger and objectively more practical, it couldn’t compete with the intimacy of the loft. Its smaller size made everything feel closer, warmer. Every surface held a piece of Evan—whether it was a photograph on the shelf, the clipboard he insisted on leaving on the coffee table, or simply the faint, familiar scent of him that lingered in every corner.

Tommy loved that. Loved the way he felt surrounded by Evan, no matter where he stood.

As he stepped into the loft, using the spare key he’d been given weeks ago, he braced himself for the familiar quiet of the space. Normally, Evan would be upstairs napping after his earlier shift ended, and Tommy would sneak in, careful not to wake him. It's different today it seems, since he was greeted by his boyfriend standing in the doorway, wearing an apron and smiling like he’d been waiting all day.

“Hey, babe,” Evan greeted, leaning in for a quick kiss. Tommy didn’t think twice, meeting his lips, grateful for even the smallest touches. When they pulled away, Evan's face fell almost abruptly after seeing what Tommy assumed was his face. The younger cupped Tommy’s face gently and slowly turned his head from side to side, examining the cuts and scratches that’s on his face.

“What happened to you?” Evan asked softly, his voice tight with worry. Tommy just huffed out a small laugh. “Nothing serious. Just some scratches. Part of the job,” he replied, his voice soft and assuring. Well at least he thought it was assuring, because it doesn't seem like Evan was happy with his answer.

“Just some scratches? Babe, there’s cuts covering literally half of your face.” Evan continued moving Tommy’s head around and mumbling something under his breath, as if he was counting every single mark on Tommy’s skin. His precision almost made Tommy laugh again, though he knew better than to interrupt.

Tommy couldn’t help but smirk. The comment was wildly exaggerated, but he decided not to argue. “Okay, there's only like four of them but still—they're not small, Tommy!” Evan huffed and even though he looked mad, Tommy could hear the gentleness and worry in his tone.

“It's fine, I already applied some ointment so it'll heal on its own, don't worry. They don't even hurt.” Tommy smiled, and as if on cue, he winced when the cut on the corner of his lip stung. The timing was so perfect it almost felt like the universe was siding with Evan.

The other was quick to assess the situation, his eyes wide with concern. “Oh god, are you okay?” he asked, his fingers hovering just over the cut as if afraid to make it worse.

Tommy cursed under his breath and let out a nervous laugh, though it only made the sting worse. “Shit, didn’t think it’d still hurt,” he admitted, embarrassed.

Evan seemed disappointed but not surprised by that reaction. It's not the first time Tommy tried downplaying an injury he had. “It’s not funny, Tommy,” Evan muttered, his thumb brushing gently over the corner of his lip. “You're clearly still in pain.”

Surprisingly, it didn't hurt when Evan did that. There was something about the way Evan cared for him that felt almost unreal. He wasn’t used to this kind of attention, this kind of love—the kind that saw past his bravado and insisted on taking care of him anyway.

Tommy put his hand over Evan’s and leaned into his touch, his eyes slowly closing as he hummed in content. “And your touch is healing it already, I can feel it,” he mumbled before leaving a kiss on Evan’s palm.

Evan’s breath hitched, his smile softening as butterflies erupted in his stomach. The gesture was so simple, yet it made his chest feel heavy with emotion. It was moments like these, small and unspoken, that reminded him how deeply he loves Tommy.

Though, seeing Tommy kissing his palm suddenly gave him an idea. “Do you want me to kiss it better?” he asked, earning a look from Tommy. “What?”

“Don't you know that kisses can heal physical wounds?” Evan responded, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly wasn't buying whatever that nonsensical explanation was. “That's not a real thing,” he deadpanned.

The younger seemed surprised by that reply, pulling his hands away and crossing his arms. Oh, he’s not letting this go, is he? “Yes it is,” his tone was serious and maybe a little offended.

“Maddie used to kiss my scrapes all the time when we were kids,” Evan continued, remembering his childhood days when he would constantly get hurt doing reckless activities and while he did get a good scolding from his sister, she also took care of him and kissed his wounds better. “At first I was surprised too, but they do work!”

Tommy raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but there was a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite suppress. Evan was serious—adorably so—and the earnestness in his voice was enough to make Tommy falter. “Look, trust me on this.” With his hands back cradling his boyfriend's face, Evan is determined to show he was right.

Tommy was obviously not going to deny Evan’s kisses because that would be stupid of him, but he took this chance to tease him. “Are you sure you're not just looking for an excuse to kiss me?” He noticed the slight blush creeping up Evan’s cheeks and couldn't hide the mischievous grin on his face.

“Oh shut up, you’re just trying to distract me,” the younger protested, slapping Tommy’s chest playfully. The older chuckled, finally decided to play along. “Okay fine, I’m ready for your magical healing powers.” Evan immediately smiled, his whiny attitude disappearing within seconds.

Tommy couldn’t help but laugh as Evan leaned in, pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses to each of his cuts— his forehead, his jaw, his cheek and finally the corner of his lips.

The warmth in Evan’s touch and the softness of his lips left a trail of something far deeper than comfort. There was something so intimate with the way Evan’s focus was entirely on him, the intensity of his care leaving Tommy feeling a little dazed. Tommy closed his eyes, letting himself fall into the warmth of Evan’s affection. Each kiss felt like a promise, tender and full of unspoken care.

Before Evan could pull back completely, Tommy leaned forward and stole a quick kiss on the lips. The move caught Evan off guard, his cheeks immediately flushing a deep shade of red. “Hey!” he protested, voice pitched high as he buried himself against Tommy’s shoulder in an attempt to hide his flushed face.

Tommy’s laugh rumbled through his chest, low and affectionate, as he brought a hand up to run through Evan’s curls to calm him down. The way Evan melted into his touch was such a simple thing, yet it filled Tommy with a sense of peace he rarely allowed himself to feel.

Slowly, Evan pulled away and Tommy noticed that though slightly faded, the blush on his face remained. He narrowed his eyes, feigning indignation. “Look who’s trying to kiss who now,” he teased back.

Tommy raised his hands in defeat, the laughter still bubbling in his throat. “Not my fault you’re so irresistible,” he admitted, the words carrying a playful tone, though the sincerity in his gaze was impossible to miss.

Evan laughed at the response and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck, pulling him closer, while Tommy’s hands instinctively found their place on Evan’s waist. The younger grinned, his eyes alight with fondness. “So,” he asked, his voice soft but teasing, “did it work?”

Tommy tilted his head, pretending to consider the question. His eyes wandered for effect, a mischievous glint forming as he replied, “Well, I’m not sure one kiss did anything…” He trailed off, looking back at Evan with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Evan let out an exaggerated groan, rolling his eyes as he stepped back. “You’re so annoying,” he muttered, though the way his lips grew into a smile shows how much he loved this moment as much as the other. With a playful shoulder shove, he added, “Let’s get you dinner first, then you can have all the kisses you want.”

Tommy’s smile softened as Evan reached for his hand, leading him toward the dining table. He was in awe when he saw the food his boyfriend had prepared, ranging from appetizers to desserts. “Is this why you haven't been replying to my texts?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at Evan in disbelief.

The younger nodded with a proud grin on his face. “I wanted to surprise you.” Tommy shook his head in disbelief, his heart squeezing in his chest. He didn’t think he deserved any of this—this effort, this love.

“You shouldn't have made dinner, you just got off your shift too,” he murmured, concern slipping into his tone. The thought of Evan overworking himself for his sake tugged at him.

“I know that,” Evan walked closer to Tommy, sliding his hands up his shoulders and rubbing his thumb in comforting circles on his collarbone. “But I figured that you might have a hard time today and what's the best thing to come home to after a rough shift if not home-cooked dinner, right?” his voice softened, eyes filled with warmth and care.

Tommy felt his defenses crumble. He’d always prided himself on being self-sufficient, the kind of person who didn’t need to rely on anyone. But standing there, wrapped in Evan’s quiet care, he realized how much he’d needed this without even knowing it. Before Evan, bad days felt endless—something to endure until they passed. Now, bad days had an antidote. Now, they ended with Evan.

Being cared for like this is something Tommy never even imagined he could ever experience. He didn't think he deserved any of this but in that moment, surrounded by warmth and love, Tommy couldn’t imagine a place he’d rather be.

“I love you so much,” Tommy whispered, his voice thick with emotion he didn’t bother hiding. He earned a bashful smile from Evan, mirroring the same expression he made the first time Tommy said those words. “I love you too,” Evan replied softly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against Tommy’s lips, sealing the words between them.

After they were done with dinner, they cleaned up together with Tommy insisting he should do the dishes while Evan cleared the table. Eventually, they got ready for bed, though it took longer than necessary because Evan kept poking at Tommy’s sides and making dumb jokes while they brushed their teeth. Tommy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t stop smiling.

When they finally settled under the covers, Tommy laid with his bare back pressed against Evan’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around Tommy’s torso. Evan’s breath was warm against the back of his neck, steady and soothing. Tommy felt himself slipping toward sleep, lulled by the quiet comfort of their closeness.

But then Evan’s hands started gently roaming over his arms, fingers tracing absent patterns. He suddenly stilled, his touch lingering on a tender spot. “These are new,” Evan muttered, his voice low, adjusting his eyes to the darkness as his fingers ghosted over fresh scrapes Tommy had all but forgotten. The older hummed, “Yeah, it's from today,” he said nonchalantly.

Not even a second later, he felt soft, sweet lips peppered along his arms and he felt his heart skip a beat. He turned his head slightly, seeing Evan leaving kisses on the injured parts of his arm and locked eyes with him. “Why didn't you tell me? I told you I’d kiss all your pain away,” he heard Evan mumble, his lips brushing over his bare skin.

Tommy chuckled softly, turning around to face his boyfriend. He propped himself up on one elbow, his hand cradling the side of Evan’s face. “I didn’t want you to worry again,” he admitted, his thumb gently brushing over Evan’s cheekbone.

Evan furrowed his brows, clearly not satisfied with that answer. With a dramatic sigh, he buried his face against Tommy’s chest, his voice muffled as he muttered, “I can’t believe I missed it the first time.”

Tommy laughed quietly, his fingers threading through Evan’s hair. “But hey, let me tell you this,” Tommy looked down, hooking Evan’s chin and lifting his head up to face him. “Believe it or not, the stinging had miraculously faded,” he added. Evan grinned giddily, leaning further in and nuzzling his nose with the older.

“Told you it works,” he said proudly, and Tommy couldn’t resist closing the distance, capturing Evan’s lips in a kiss that was deeper, more lingering than before—a kiss filled with gratitude, love, and the quiet relief of knowing someone had his heart in the safest hands, the pain on the corner of his lips long gone.

When they finally pulled apart, Tommy rested his forehead against Evan’s, his voice a breathless whisper.

“You really did kiss it better.”

[hoeforhao]

🏷 Kidult ▪︎ Choi Seungcheol Fic ▪︎

↷ pairing: dad!seungcheol × fem!reader (feat!jeonghan)

↷ genre: heavy angst, fluff towards the end, mentions of childhood trauma, sort of arranged marriage? cheol and reader have a daughter together, lots of dad seungcheol content!!!

↷ summary: can trying to relive the childhood you never got to experience, through your daughter be the reason of your husband's irk?

↷ part: 1/4 pt.2, pt.3, pt.4

↷ w.c: 2.5k

↷ author's note: part 1 is here finally!! will try to post part 2 by the end of this week, and part 3 will be a bonus smut which will be published on cheol's birthday♡

If you want to be added to this fic's taglist, drop a comment under this post ; my ask box is open too♡

Motherhood was truly a blissful chapter of every woman's life. Seeing your child growing up in your arms, her little legs stomping through the grass to join her playmates, often tumbling down on her way, her father going completely nuts over the itty bitty scratches on his princess,made you feel a joy not even billion dollars could buy.

But that's definitely not something you believed in before getting married to seungcheol or even when you announced to all of your family, that you were about to birth a small little version of your husband and their son.

While his child swelled in your belly, his ignorance and indifference towards you, swelled in your heart. Although it would be downright selfish to say that seungcheol didn't take care of you during your pregnancy, but you surely weren't that naive to not understand it was all for the wellbeing of his daughter.

Well some people unlike others are just destined to go through life like a soldier, bound to only their duty without the luxury of enjoying worldly pleasures - that's what you've been telling yourself since your childhood, all throughout your marriage but now...now it's different.

As selfish as it may sound, your daughter Hana's childhood now gave you a newfound hope of reliving those years of your life that you never got to cherish....being as carefree and jolly like a two year old, sleeping every night with a teddy tucked under your arms without any thoughts about how to deal with this cruel world.

You were so consumed in your thoughts that you failed to notice the cinnamon pie set in the oven being slightly overcooked along its edges.

"Shit shit shit you cannot mess this up y/n!!! Cheol and Hana are crazy over your cinnamon pie and the last thing you wanna do is disappoint your daughter and his father" you mentally cuss at yourself while taking out the pie pot from the oven as quick as possible....mildly burning your fingers in the attempt.

A thud of the main door shitts your concentration from your burned fingers to your hall, which is now being adorned by Hana's giggles upon seeing her father.

"Dada is home princess! What has my girl been doing all day without her daddy huh" seungcheol literally throws his coat on the couch before hopping towards his beloved daughter, taking her up in his arms in one quick lift and peppering the little ball's mochi cheeks with kisses.

"I played a lot with momma today daddy, and you know you know we even threw a birthday party for Bella hehe" Hana started blabbering out her entire day's routine to her father, sitting on his lap, her head resting on his chest,as seungcheol kept on playing with his daughter's silken locks.

"That's why my cupcake is all dolled up right now huh, I see" seungcheol's arms wrap around Hana's waist tightly while patting her hair. "Do I look like a princess dwaddy?"

"When does my Hana doesn't look like a princess, baby! You're royalty, my little highness" you were watching such a dreamy cinematic sequence of a perfect loving family being played out infront of you, from behind the kitchen counter....the catch being you were just a part of this trio only for a show to others.

"Daddy daddy can we go to the park tomorrow pwease" your daughter surely knew that her puppy eyes was cheol's biggest weakness and that's what she used everytime to make her father tend to all the tantrums.

"Anything for my babygirl. But first you've to stop looking at me with those eyes or dadda's heart will burst from cuteness babie" hana's adorable beads were now paired with her dad's dimples making your heart swell at the view. Two of your cutest dumplings.

"Come on now enough talking you two! Who wants to have the first bite of the pie?" you break off your glare from the duo and bring out the piping hot plate of freshly baked crust from the kitchen and set it on the table before them.

"Me me me" "No me" "No daddy me. Won't you let your princess have the first bite" one pout from Hana and seungcheol melts into a puddle, stuffing her small cheeks with the first bite of the pie by himself. "Next time dadda will win for sure!!!" a small hmph leaves your 27 year old husband's lips.

"So when are we going out tomorrow?" you press your lips into a smile like an excited puppy, putting a halt to the father daughter's playtime...your eyes glistening up at the thought of the beautiful day ahead.

"We'll leave after breakfast" seungcheol's stern voice echoes around the hall, awaring you of the void of emotions he has dug out only for you, his wife and the mother of his child.

"Oh okay! Come on Hana it's bedtime bub." you swing her up into your arms, marking your steps towards her bedroom. "No mowmmy I wanna play more with daddy please"

"No baby. We gotta wake up early tomorrow for the park right? There you can play with dad all throughout the day. Okay love?" you plant a goodnight kiss to your daughter's temples before tucking her into her soft Cinderella sheets.

"My cute round munchkin" one last loving glance at Hana and you put off the lights of her room to let her drift into the happiest dream ever, without any tension of the cruelties of the outside world.

Changing into a soft satin robe and tying your hair up into a bun, you finally settle yourself under the duvet of your shared bedroom with seungcheol, your back facing him, wishing ever passing moment, that at least once he wraps you around his arms. But you know better, that he never will.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ・・・・☆・・・・

"YAH CHOI HANA WALK SLOW!" screaming at

that poodle of sunshine waddling away in utter haste, you try to match her pace, literally all breathless and panting.

After a fruitless attempt to follow your spawn of Satan going absolutely haywire about being in a park with her daddy, you curve up your back, sweating like a pig looking for some air ; a pair of cold petite hands lands on the crook of your neck.

"Who the fuc - oh my god Mr notepad ass what are you doing here!!" your face instantly harbors the biggest smile upon seeing your childhood bestfriend after literally months.

"Come on girl, you meet the heartthrob of the town, and this is how you greet him? Girls swoon over m - ah ouch y/n lord my future gen " hearing jeonghan blabber 'bout being a hot cake was downright torture for you, when the man literally had no cake to offer!!!

"Yeah yeah sure that's why you used to ask me to find you a girl, pheww!!" a big smug visible clear in your eyes.

"sigh Is this how you welcome your bestfriend after almost an year??!!" han knew that him giving you those angel eyes will make your composure melt in a matter of seconds and that's exactly what happened.

"Oh come on! I was joking! You know I love you, you little bunny" you instantly wrap your arms around han's waist tightly, while pouting like a puppy yourself, as he returns the gesture in a blink.

"Except the cake part tho, hehe!" a slight pinch lands on his butt as you free yourself from him to walk to the ride's counter, hand in hand. Your heart was fluttering like a flock of doves, because you could let your true self take control only when with jeonghan, from laughing like a five year old, being a naughty tease to smiling wide like the sun. Why so? Because apparently seeing you letting your inner child out in the open, irked your 'husband'.

"Oh the main question! Why are you here? That too at a theme park!!!" shooting an interrogative glare towards jeonghan you march away through the crowd like a happy squirrel.

"I'm here with Nabi, and my little bunbun Byul. She literally manipulated me into taking her to this park. ME! THE YOON JEONGHAN BEING MANIPULATED. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT! I guess she learnt it from her dad only" jeonghan blurted out almost an entire verse within seconds, and you felt nothing but sheer joy being reunited with the only who who cherished your presence, after so long.

"There they are" you look over the thick mass to see Seungcheol and Hana standing by the ride, her little pinky entwined with her father's dainty yet strong digits, while pulling onto jeonghan's arms to run towards your family.

Cheol's face turns slightly dark watching you beaming with joy being arm tied with another man, that was not him. He knew jeonghan was your bestfriend from the time your wedding bells rang but....there was this feeling in his heart against Han, that he could never justify.

"Hey Seungcheol. How you've been? Grown quite buff huh!" Jeonghan playfully slaps Cheol's muscles, earning a sort of irritated groan and a tight smile from him.

"Looks like someone's jealous!" you lean your body over jeonghan's shoulder, whispering into his ears which lands you into being tickled by him like crazy, in public.

"Okay okay I'm sorry, s-stop!" Han's devilish hands finally leaves your body, as yout chest heaves up and down, breathless from laughing an entire year's worth.

"Umm hmm" cheol clears his throat as he tries to break off the *not so desirable scene rolling out infront of him* "we should get Hana going on the ride now, she's growing quite impatient"

"Omg yes so sorry baby mom got distracted" you take Hana from her father's grip. "Cheol cheol let us get on the ride too na? Pls!!! Pls!!" pulling onto your husband's biceps, being in a trance of happiness and forgetting that he's Choi Seungcheol and not your buddy, Jeonghan -

"Stop behaving like a kid y/n! You're twenty seven and a mother to a two year old! Fuckin act like one" each and every word that left cheol's lips carved out a new wound in your heart. Though he's right anyways....you don't deserve to fool around like a happy child....you never did....

"I'll call Nabi and Byul too. Both of them can enjoy their visit that way then" jeonghan steps in to somewhat chase away the cloud that was near to pouring down over the four of you "and Byul is herself quite fond of her bestfriend Hana anyways. They would love this set up" Han's lips curl up into a forced smile as he walks off to fetch his own family.

"I i'm sorry" you let go off Hana's tiny fingers, as soon as jeonghan leaves,leading her to the ride's entrance. "Hold on tightly to the bars, okay? Mom will be right here" your soft sweaty hands cup her cheeks before she turns around to go get seated on her most awaited part of the day.

Seungcheol's face is painted with guilt and regret, as he watches over his small family - while her daughter is glaring brighter than the sun with soulful joy, his wife is standing all gloomy beside the long sheep haired guy he have always envied.

"Mommy the ride was amazing. You know Byul was scared hehe. She was holding onto my arms" your daughter waddles down the metal stairs, her bestfriend following soon after, both of their faces all sweaty and glinting from the little adventure.

"N-no i was not, i i just tried to k-keep Hana safe" the two year old blurts out, trying to protect her pride, while her dad scoops her up into his arms, drying off her face with his shirt.

"Yes you're my strong and brave bun, I know that baby" jeonghan places open mouth kisses on his daughter's face, shifting her to her mother's arms gently, placing a gentle kiss on his wife's forehead in the process.

Such a beautiful family. A word that would never fit your own -

"I - I'm taking the girls to have some ice cream" seungcheol breaks the silence that has now creeped up onto your face. "Wanna j-join us, y/n?" no matter how much he tries to act cool or indifferent, the words he threw at your merry face just few minutes back, refuses to leave his mind, engulfing his form in severe shame and agony.

"No I would like to stay back. You three go ahead" the change in your tone was clear enough for even a stranger to notice....and jeonghan has known you for twenty whole years.

"Nabi you accompany the girls and seungcheol. We two will be waiting for y'all by the carousel" surprising right? How jeonghan was the one having your back and not your husband!!!

"Seungcheol was being an absolute dick back there you know. A very annoying, lumpy and dumbass dick " han's hands curl up against your shoulder as he pulls your head to rest on his nape, while both of you were seated on a bench shining under the dreamiest luminaire.

"Hmm" you hum into his skin, warm salty drops slowly making their way down his silk shirt "or maybe he was actually right"

Pulling yourself up from Han's embrace, you focus your eyes onto your lap, while fidgeting with your fingers, when you feel a warm pair of hands cupping your cheek, fingers pushing off any drop of water that dared to pass by your supple skin.

"Just because someone doesn't appreciate your presence in their life and treat you as nothing but a person their daughter calls 'mom', doesn't mean that you are allowed to downgrade yourself" his hands traveling down your face to now engulf your palms into his, "You have every right to be yourself y/n. I know how you've been fighting all your life, how you never had anything what people call carefree childhood these days....don't let anyone murder the soulful kid within you. Understood, Ms Thumper Paws" jeonghan settles his speech with a finishing pinch on your dumpling cheeks.

"Aye aye sir! Noted!!" you finally flash him with the smile he has been trying to bring out since 'someone' decided to slash it.

To both of your oblivion, seungcheol was watching his wife, his partner being all giggly like a beaming ray of sunshine, her bunny teeth making its way out for the world to see, but-

not in his arms, not on his jokes, instead because of her bestfriend....the person he has always been jealous of, for making you smile so wide and bringing out the adorable kid in you!!!something only he wishes to do you for you.....

all this while the caramel ice cream he brought for you melting away in his hands, as he takes in the sight before him with gritted teeth and hurt eyes