#<- still putting it on here for good measure tho

[tacoma-narrows]

@faaarawayyy

you go to her #me tag and it’s just all these pictures of evil fish

[honeyhotteoks]

under his eye (lnds; sylus)

summary: sylus puts you under his thrall and takes exactly what he wants from you and your body.

note: this is my first love and deepspace fic, and definitely one of my more intense fics thematically for my regular readers who may dip into this one too. i have a few lnds ideas knocking around, so i may post more at some point. ♡

warnings: actual vampire!sylus, fem!reader, mc!reader, this is entirely smut but please mind the warnings here: heavy dubcon (there is enthusiastic consent explicit in the fic just not at first), cnc, use of thrall/mind-control, dollification, fingering, oral (f receiving), actual somno, rough sex, allusions to primal play, blood play, actual vampire behavior, orgasm denial/orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected sex (he's a vampire tho get real), creampie, praise and shame in equal measure, a LOT of dirty talk from sylus, heavy use of pet names like good girl, sweet girl, kitten, sweetheart, darling, etc., some implied size kink with the use of 'little' but it's meant more mean teasing from him than anything, tenderness, consent talks, check-ins, aftercare, sylus literally loves her in this dw

pairings: vampire!sylus x hunter!reader

genre: smut, porn with very little plot

word count: 5.6k

for my fellow sylus fans, you can probably tell this was fully inspired by his secret times audio 'midnight warmth' - i basically hit level 35 and then went fully insane when i first heard it..... so a few lines of dialogue are borrowed from that.

It’s hard to imagine what it feels like to be in a vampire’s thrall unless you’ve experienced it before. You don’t think you’d ever be able to find the words, not properly. You’ve heard it described, in training, in books, in your own personal research, but it all pales in comparison to what it’s actually like. The slow, hypnotic build up into the haze and the sudden descent into a deeper, darker place where your mind resonates at a lower frequency, fixed on one singular sound. One voice.

Sylus. 

His rich, honeyed tone had pushed you under before you could even process it. 

You try to remember where you were before this moment, who you were, but there are only flickers. The hotel room around you is large and unfamiliar, outfitted decadently in the dark jewel tones he favors so much. The black silk sheets under your back is the only sensation you have other than the slow pulse of your own heartbeat in your ears. If you focus hard enough, you think you can remember a joke, something you quipped over your shoulder about how there must be laws in place in the N109 zone, how ‘vampire’s lair’ must be the only legal style of decor in this sector of space. 

He had laughed, a real, genuine laugh from deep in his chest before he wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your hair. 

You don’t like being in a vampire’s lair, kitten? 

You can still hear his words, swimming around your foggy brain, his voice so low and warm in his chest. 

I thought you liked being my pretty paramour. 

Sylus’s hands had wandered, playing with the buckles of your hunter’s leathers and letting his fingertips ghost over your collarbones, up your throat, and pass gently over your lips before stepping back and away from you entirely. You felt strange from that moment on, disquieted. 

You made excuses in your own mind for how you were feeling, weeks of investigations and sleepless nights, that’s why your body felt like it was dragging itself through butter just trying to eat dinner. 

You apologized, you wouldn’t have called him if you had realized just how tired you were.

But he just smiled at you, appraising you with his sharp red eyes in that way he often does, nodding along to your staggered attempts at conversation. 

You realized what he was doing in the last split second before your mind became his. 

His gaze turned darker, searing into you, and with one word you felt the world drop out from underneath you. 

Sleep. 

You don’t remember how you ended up on the bed. 

Now your head is swimming as you try harder and harder to focus your mind and recall the little details.

“Stop resisting, darling,” Sylus murmurs, and you feel the mattress dip. 

You can’t respond, you can’t even really move, and a nervous panic starts to work its way up your spine.

Sylus sits on the edge of the bed, close enough to you now that you can see him in your vacant line of vision, and he nods, “Just relax,” 

Your muscles soften. 

“Let’s get you more comfortable, shall we?” Sylus leans closer, his fingers tugging at the buckles and straps of your clothes. 

You watch as he meticulously undresses you, peeling away layers of your uniform, a satisfied groan whispered from his lips as he parts open your blouse, another when he does away with your tight leather pants. All the while, you’re boneless, trapped by his last command and fully at his mercy. The Hunter’s Academy never prepared you for this. 

“You really are a pretty thing,” Sylus hums, his cool hand drifting up and down your body from the base of your bra to the top of your underwear, “so soft,” 

Nerves pulse through you again, your body twitching under his hands. 

“Shh,” He soothes, “it’s only me, relax,” 

Your muscles melt further, any lingering tension bleeding out of your body at his words, your head rocking softly to one side, your cheek against the silk pillowcase. 

“That’s a good girl,” 

You sigh, a sudden needy tug deep in your belly at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drifts higher, dancing over your chest and passing over your breasts, the rough drag of your cloth bra against your nipple pulling a tiny whine from your lips. 

He chuckles softly, repeating his motions and you whine again. 

“How lovely and responsive you are,” Sylus says, pulling the fabric of your bra down until it catches under the swell of your breasts, “what other little noises can I pull out of you, kitten?” 

He rolls a thumb over your nipple, drawing it up to a tight, almost painful peak, and you whimper at the flood of sensation through your chest and down your abdomen. 

“And this?” He pinches, a tug that leaves you involuntarily jerking. 

“And here?” You can’t see him with the way your head is turned, but you feel his fingers ghost over the hem of your panties and you suck in a sharp breath. 

He adjusts one of your legs, opening it up at the knee to widen his access, and then he presses two fingers a little more firmly at the top of your cunt, expertly locating your clit through your panties and applying steady pressure. 

You moan softly and you hear him release a tight exhale. 

“My,” He lets his fingers slip down, pushing lightly against your slit, “are you wet already?” 

You know you are, your body responding naturally to his voice, to his tender touch. 

“I asked you a question, sweetheart,” Sylus leans over you, his breath against your cheek, “when I ask you a question, I’d like a response.” 

Your heart is fluttering, a thunderously fast pounding in your chest. 

His fingers hook under your chin and draw your gaze up, and gently he pushes the hair away from your face as he regards you, his dark eyes full of mirth and a little half smile on his lips. He nods at you, pleased as if you had turned your own head, “Now,” he says, “I asked if you’re wet already?” 

Your knotted up tongue loosens instantly at the question, “Yes,” 

“Good girl,” He coos, leaning over you to press his cool lips to yours. 

You can’t kiss him back, he hasn't told you if you’re allowed to move, but he peppers you with kisses until you feel his fingers slide under the hem of your panties. 

You gasp under him, heat pooling in your belly. 

Sylus dips his fingers into the dripping slickness of your cunt and groans into your ear, “You like this,” he nips at your earlobe, “you’re a mess between your thighs for me, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” The word slips out, your voice breathy and taut.

  “My pretty little hunter,” He slides his fingers up to your swelling clit and circles his fingers, “does that feel good?” 

You moan a little, his fingers pressing more firmly as he circles, “Yes, Sylus,” 

“Spread out for me,” He presses his head against your temple and turns so he can watch your body twitching as he works his fingers over you, “Wet for me,” 

A hot rush spreads up through your body.

You shouldn’t like this. You shouldn’t want this. But you asked for this, a confession of your fantasies whispered between the sheets at his apartment, and he peeled them apart one by one, teasing you with questions and collecting his information, strumming you to orgasm after orgasm all the while.

You just didn’t know it would be today, weeks and weeks went by without so much as an innuendo. The sudden onset of his thrall and his control over your body shouldn’t be this alluring, but it is. You can’t move, you can’t speak unless he allows you, but every touch of his skin on yours has you ready to throw every instinct out the window because you’re pretty sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been. 

His fingers speed up and your hips buck just a little into the sensation.

  “Dirty girl,” He hums, “you like the way this feels, you like that you can’t move,” 

He twists your dark desires back around on you, a flutter of shame in your chest at the truth of it. 

He explores your cunt with his fingers, toying with you and gathering more wetness to torture your clit with, “You like being helpless, completely in my hands,” he goads you as he works your body up to release, “unable to stop me, or tell me no,” 

Your core throbs, every inch of your body a live wire, shame twisting into a tight knot of need in your belly. 

  “Don’t you?” 

You gasp as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, “Yes, yes!”

”Are you close, kitten?” He purrs in your ear, thrusting his fingers hard and fast, his knuckles rhythmically connecting with your clit. 

  “Yes,” You whine, your body trembling.

  “That’s too bad,” He pulls his hand free and lets your underwear snap back into place. 

If you could move you’d be a whining mess, throwing yourself at him and begging for him to finish the job, but you can’t. He’s stolen your orgasm right out from under you and you can’t even ask him to finish the job. 

“Hmm,” He stands, and you hear the sound of his shirt dropping to the floor, “does it hurt?” 

“Yes,” You manage. 

“Poor baby,” He teases, mocking your little sob, and his thumbs hook under the sides of your panties to yank them roughly off your body, “should I kiss it and make it better?” 

“Please,” 

He drops back down to the bed, this time sliding in between your thighs, and when he speaks again you feel his cool breath whisper across your throbbing center, “Ask nicely,” 

Your voice is shaky when you finally find the words, “Please, Sylus will you touch me?” 

“Touch you where?” 

You whimper, the slightest involuntary jerk of your hips pulling a chuckle from his lips. 

“I said,” He reminds you, “touch you where?” 

“M-my clit,” You beg, “my pussy, please,” 

“Was that so hard?” You can practically see him smiling. 

You open your mouth, ready to respond, but his mouth closes over your clit and all thought and reason you had left disappear. He’s going to ruin you for any other man, you know it. 

Sylus hums, pushing your limp legs painfully wide and laps at your center. There’s no teasing left in him, no gentle licks and featherlight brushes of fingertips, there’s just him, needing to feel you come just as badly as you do. 

The knot in your gut is back with a vengeance, and every impulse in your body is to squirm away from his mouth and let him drag you back down, but you can’t. Sylus takes and takes and you have no choice but to let him. 

When he lifts his mouth to take a quick breath he gives you another command, “Watch me,” 

The tether between you draws your gaze down, and you gasp at the sight of him. He’s shirtless, his broad hands holding open your trembling thighs, and he eats at you like you’re a meal. Your breath comes quicker, blush lighting up your chest. 

“You taste so sweet here,” He groans, barely lifting his mouth, his tongue carving a line up from your entrance to your sensitive bud and you choke out a breathy moan. 

He knows you’re about to come before you do, and you see him smile into your wet heat before he shifts focus, lips closing over your clit and sucking hard, his hand sliding to push two fingers back inside and crook them just right. Within a few sharp pumps of his wrist and a steady flick of his tongue you’re moaning sharply, your release snapping in your belly so hard you see stars. 

You can’t move on your own, but your body crackles apart in rhapsodic shakes and he carries you through the crest of your orgasm with lazy licks. 

“Beautiful,” He murmurs, and you feel the sharp pin prick of pain at your inner thigh. He licks you there too, taking just a little taste from the vein, and then sighs pleasantly and squeezes your thigh. 

He kisses you here once, and then pulls himself up, arranging your legs back down before sliding next to you in the sheets and tugging you close to his chest. 

You rock into him, your body spent and boneless, unable to move to wrap your arms around him or press kisses to his chest. Instead you just are, and he pulls your body up until you’re in the perfect spot in his arms. He tucks his cheek against yours and palms your backside. 

“When you wake,” Sylus whispers low, “it will be on my cock.” 

You shiver, your core pulsing again. 

“And you’ll stay nice and soft and wet for me,” He kisses the hollow of your ear, “my sweet doll,” 

Your eyes start to grow heavy, your head lolling into his shoulder. 

“You’ll let me have my wicked way with your sweet cunt,” His hands flex tightly on your skin, like he’s restraining himself from taking you now, “and when you’re close, right on the edge of coming, you’ll tell me, do you understand?”

  “I understand,” Your words sound lazy, malformed in your cotton mouth but you answer him nonetheless.

“Good,” He murmurs, “and when you come, your hot pussy squeezing my cock, my thrall will end.” 

A hazy question forms in your mind, but you’re so foggy now. 

“But until then,” he sighs, his hands relaxing and his voice softening, “you’ll rest,” 

Your eyes drift shut, a relaxed sigh on your lips, your body indistinguishable in your mind from the sheets wrapped around you. 

Sylus presses a gentle kiss to your hair and strokes your back, “Sleep, little crow,” he says softly, “you’re safe with me,” 

Just like before, the world falls away. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

There’s no telling how long you’ve been asleep, not when Sylus wakes you the way he does. You come into consciousness incredibly slowly, as if you were out of your body and watching the scene in slow motion. The first thing you register through the muffled world of dreamless sleep is his voice. It doesn’t matter how deeply under you are, still encased in darkness, you hear his voice reach out to you and tug on the invisible tether tying your consciousness to his. 

Needy girl. 

Hands on your thighs, cool air on your cunt. 

Rutting yourself on my thigh. 

Were you? 

Don’t you know I’m the only one allowed to make you come?

A soft moan. Yours, you think distantly. 

Sylus chuckles and hums, no doubt appraising you once again with his hungry eyes. You still feel under the deep water of sleep, your body disconnected and pliant in his hands, his influence so impacting that you remain his plaything even now. 

Fingers dance across your skin, skating lines of ice over your flesh. Sylus studies your body with his touch, a brush against your collarbones, the curve of your shoulders, down your arms into the ditch of your elbows. A brush of lips against your palm, a reverent kiss to your chest, his mouth nuzzling against your belly as he searches more of you with his precious touch. 

Your skin turns sensitive, prickling goose flesh, and he sighs pleasantly into your skin, “So beautiful,” 

His voice feels clearer now, and somewhere in your brain through the membrane of your closed eyelids you register the cool blue of early morning light. 

“My darling,” He hums, another kiss, the shifting of the sheets as he moves, “my sweet girl,” 

You feel the weight of him above you, his legs between yours and his torso radiating a chill as he holds himself above you. Sylus slips one hand into your hair, cradling your head for a moment before he tightens his hold and uses his grip on your scalp to draw your head back, neck stretched long and exposed. 

He drops lower, body ghosting yours, and he buries his face in your throat, pushing his nose into your pulse point. A panicked thrill lances through you, your heartbeat fluttering faster. 

“Shh, shh,” He whispers against your throat, “don’t be frightened,” 

A sharp exhale leaves your lips. 

Sylus kisses your throat, letting his lips linger, “You wanted to play with a vampire, sweetheart, this is what you get,” 

Even in this false sleep, you feel your core flutter, heat pooling again. 

His tongue darts out, tracing a line from your thumping pulse up your vein to your ear and he groans pleasantly, a flutter of breath across your skin, “Next time,” he shudders, “maybe I’ll make you play my favorite game,” 

Your breath quickens. 

“Vampire,” He nips at your throat, his fangs still sheathed, “and vampire hunter,” 

The ache between your thighs melts into a throb, a pulse in time with your heart.

Sylus moves lower, lavishing open mouthed, messy kisses on your skin as he talks. His voice still a whisper, his fantasies muttered out from himself more than for you as he loses himself in your touch.

”You’ll come to me,” He teases, “ready to kill the big, bad, vampire,” he punctuates every word with a sharp lick to your breasts.  

A whimper passes through your slack lips. 

“Only I’ve played this game before,” His hand slides out of your hair and he settles his body weight over you, “and I never lose,” 

You shiver, his words, his cold touch, it hardly matters. 

“And you’ll run from me,” His hands drag over your skin, cupping your breasts, “and I’ll chase the frightened kitten into the woods,” 

Your breath hitches. 

He smiles against your skin, lips closing over a stiff nipple and flicking until you shudder beneath him. He hums, kissing across your chest, “Red and ripe as strawberries,” he observes, latching onto your other nipple and sucking, “I can feel how much you’re aching for me even in your sleep,” 

You’re dripping, you can feel it, making a mess of the silk sheets underneath you. 

He shifts, maneuvering your body to tilt your hips up and open, legs spread wide, and then you feel him. Sylus slides his impossibly hard length over your slit, rocking himself back and forth against your wetness, his velvet head nudging at your swollen bud. 

Your body is trembling, fluttering under his hands. 

“When I catch you,” He returns to his garish fantasy, “I’ll strip you bare,” 

You feel your stomach clench at the thought. 

“I’ll pin you right down to the ground,” He says it like a promise, rolling his hips harder, “and fuck your hot little cunt until you’re so cockdrunk you beg for more,” 

A pained whine bubbles from your mouth, hips arching involuntarily at his words. 

“Mm,” His hand drags down your chest, skimming over your body, “have I denied you too long, love?” 

You want to beg, to plead, to shift your hips into the exact right position so that his next thrust pushes his cock inside. 

“You’ve been so good,” He adjusts, finally nudging at your wet entrance, his hands finding yours in the sheets and drawing them above your head, fingers twined together, “just a little more,”

He inhales sharply and then with a forceful thrust he sheaths himself inside you, his hips connecting hard with yours. 

You moan sharply, your pussy clenching around the thick intrusion of him. 

He chokes a groan, “O-open your eyes, sweetheart,” 

Your eyes snap open, and the sight of him naked above you, inside you, is enough to send your mind spiraling out of control. 

“Your body was made for me,” He snaps his hips, setting a brutal pace as he ruts into you, “divined by gods for my cock,” 

Pleasure rolls up through your belly and your body tightens.

  “You’re mine,” His hands tightens on yours, his eyes boring into you.

  Tears gather in your eyes, a hot sensation through every inch of your body at the way his thick length spears you open with every draw of his hips. The knot inside you pulls again, a taut cord threatening at any moment to snap. 

“Say you’re mine,” He commands, his voice faltering into a moan.

  Your mouth opens, straining against the sure drop of your orgasm but you nod, “I’m yours, S-Sylus, I’m all yours,” 

“Good girl,” He pants, “there she is,” 

The praise on his lips sends you higher, and you suck in a sharp breath, “I’m… Sylus, I’m close!”

He descends, moving in a flash of nearly inhuman speed, and suddenly your head is pulled to the side  again and you’re cradled tight as he rolls his hips into you. 

“Come,” He directs, one more command on his lips before you fall to pieces beneath him, and his sharp fangs descend into your throat. 

“Sylus!” You jerk, true consciousness and feeling rushing back as the thread between his mind and yours severs, but you don’t have a moment to parse how it feels to be out of thrall when your orgasm rushes into you full force and the hot pain of his teeth melts into delicious pleasure. 

He groans, shuddering above you and stopping his thrusts as he feels your walls spasm and flutter around him, the taste of your blood on his tongue grinding the world to a halt at his feet. Nothing exists but you and him and your blood on his teeth and his cock buried to the hilt inside you. 

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, one hand threading into his hair, “Sylus,” you murmur, carding your fingers through his silver locks, “all yours,” 

Euphoria doesn’t begin to describe it, your orgasm feels never ending. Every suck at your tender throat spurns another wave through you, and you rock yourself against him, grinding up against his pelvic bone to draw out every ounce of your pleasure. 

When he pulls away, he does so with care, gentle with the skin of your neck to ensure he doesn’t hurt you anymore that he has to. Pushing up on the mattress he finds your face and you roll right into another aftershock. His eyes are brighter, wide in desperate awe of you and somehow an even darker shade of red, and that with the smear of your blood across his lips has you keening, arching and gripping against him as you babble out his name between moans. 

“That’s it,” He softens, gathering you close to press his forehead to yours, “come for me again, that’s my girl,” 

“Sylus,” You’re a whimpering mess, your body a pool of ecstatic pleasure, and all you can do is repeat his name and hold onto him through the wave of endorphins and emotions. 

“Shh, shh,” He hushes you softly as you ride through the last flush of pleasure, “I’ve got you,” 

Your skin is slick with sweat, and your legs are shaking, breath coming in shallow pants as you finally come back down. 

Sylus holds you, bracing you to his chest and he makes short work of rolling you both without disconnecting your bodies. When he settles he’s on his back with you perched on his hips, his fingers carving a line up and down your spine to settle you. 

Flush and trembling, you find his eyes again. 

His brows draw together, a knit line of tender concern, and he brushes his thumb over your jaw, “Don’t bite your lip,” 

Your mouth relaxes, you hadn’t even known you were doing it, and your eyes flick away. He says something, words you can hardly hear through the dizzy rush of your brain trying to catch up with the past few hours.

“Sweetheart,” he smooths his thumb over your cheek, “look me in the eyes, answer me,” 

Your head snaps back up. 

“Was I too rough?” He asks softly.

You don’t have words yet, you can’t reach them and string them together, but you shake your head.

”Are you sure?” His hands draw up and down your body slowly like he’s checking you for something, his broad hands finally coming to rest over yours where you brace yourself on his chest. 

You nod to his answer his question, “I’m sure,” 

He relaxes under you, pressing your hands into his chest over his heart, and it would turn you to romantic putty if he wasn’t still seated fully inside you and if your blood wasn’t staining his mouth. Your eyes keep flicking down to his mouth, crimson across his plush bottom lip, smears on his chin, a drip that made it to the edge and slipped down his neck. 

”Hmm,” His lips turn up into a smile and you sheepishly look back up, “are you still hungry, love?” 

Your stomach clenches, his voice turning husky again the moment he spies your renewed arousal. 

This time though, you’re awake. The heavy fog of his control and your barrage of orgasms has started to lift, and you need something more. 

You let your body melt, relaxing against him and letting his cock shift inside you, “Are you?” 

He almost laughs at your expression, one brow raised to challenge him as you push up to straddle him. His eyes rake over you and you feel his cock twitch, “You’d think I would have had my fill of you,” he says, hands moving to your hips, “but I find you make me insatiable, the more I taste you, the more I fuck you, the more I want,” 

“A vampire who’s never satisfied?” You tease him, “how original,” 

He exhales softly through his nose, smiling, “You’re the one still grinding on my cock, kitten,” 

You blush, but make no effort to stop unconsciously rocking your hips against him. 

“I was wrong, you’re the insatiable one,” He says appreciatively, and he smoothly slides his hands up your back to brace you so that when he sits up you stay with him. 

“If I was I’d never admit it,” 

He smacks your ass lightly with his palm and you wrap your legs around him, the position change sinking you back down onto his length and you sigh. 

”After what you just let me do to you?” Sylus shakes his head, his voice dropping the teasing tone when he presses his lips to your chest, “That’s admission enough,” 

He takes both hands to grip your backside, pressing into your soft flesh, and drags you forwards to coax you into motion. 

Holding onto his shoulders you follow his lead, working your hips back and forth, letting the press of his hands guide your speed. The feeling is dizzying, his cock feeling thicker and more filling in this position, and you can’t help the stammered moans and pants that bubble out of you with every downstroke connecting your hips to his. 

Sylus mutters a curse into your skin, his fingers pressing hard enough to leave bruises, and then you feel his tongue. 

“Fuck,” You whine, “Sylus,” 

He pulls at your hips harder and you pick up the pace, grinding your heels into the mattress for the right leverage, losing yourself to the steady wet sound of him inside you and the heat building back up in your belly. 

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue traveling, dragging a line up your chest from the swell of your breast to your collarbone, and when he groans and huffs a needy breath at your throat, you realize what has him so flustered. 

“T-take more,” Your hand in his hair again to direct his head, pushing him towards your throat. 

“Mm-mm,” He shakes his head and drops the flat of his tongue over the bleeding teeth marks at your throat. 

You hiss sharply, a familiar roll of pleasure through you and you grip his hair, “Please, baby, please,” 

“Not tonight,” He laps at you again, “just cleaning you up,” 

“God,” You moan, your pace faltering for a moment until the pressure of his hands pushes you back into action. 

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, pulling away from your throat and using one hand to tug you close by the back of the neck, “you feel…” 

You have to hold on, you need him to come after all the work he’s put into pleasuring you, and you can’t let yourself fall apart until he does. You lock eyes with him and his expression, almost pained, his mouth open in silent pleasure and still painted red, pushes you through the ache in your hips and the burning in your thighs. He’s so close. Nearly, nearly there.

”Sylus,” Your voice breathy, “kiss me,” 

There’s a flicker of a smile across his mouth but he surges up, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss. His tongue catches against yours, and you taste the iron of your own blood, you feel the sharpness of his fangs, but all it does is drive you closer and closer to delicious release. 

“My sinful little thing,” He pants against your mouth, “you never stop surprising me,” 

Your eyes flutter shut, your nails tight against his shoulders, “Please, I need it,” 

“What do you need?” He croons, hungrily at your lips once more. 

You moan against his mouth, tugging his hair sharply, “Come,” you pant, nearly out of breath, “I need your cum,” 

He shudders, groaning.  

“Sylus!” You whine again, “Inside, please, please,” 

His hand slips from your hair, and the equilibrium changes things back to Sylus in total control. With both hands secured on your ass he takes over, dragging you fast and hard on his cock and meeting every thrust with a hard jut of his hips. He’s fucking into you with reckless need, the head of his cock connecting over and over again with your cervix, and you arch and cry out in his arms. 

“No,” He pants, pulling you back to him, “eyes on me,” 

“Please,” You beg again, your cunt spasming and fluttering, “I-I’ll come if you just,” 

He loses himself immediately, pulling you down hard and choking out a moan, spilling his release deep and grinding you down to prolong his own pleasure, but you’re falling apart right behind him in a breath. A final, dizzying orgasm taking your body like a soft wave, languid and warm, and Sylus nods as you ride it out, coaxing you through every last moment. 

When you settle, you feel how much your body is trembling, and he releases his tight grip on your hips to gently massage your skin, soothing touches as he softens inside you. 

“Oh my god,” You laugh softly, your forehead pressed to his, “that was,” 

“Good?” He asks, a soft, quick kiss to your lips. 

“Perfect,” You sigh, “you were perfect.” 

He nods, drinking you in for a moment more before he exhales and relaxes, leaning back and meeting your eyes.  

“I must look a mess,” You press your cool knuckles to the warmth of your flushed cheeks. 

“A beautiful mess,” He counters gently. 

You smile lazily at him, feeling boneless and sated and delicious. 

Sylus takes the pad of his thumb to the very tip of his razor sharp fangs and pierces his skin, a bead of his own dark blood rising up from the puncture on his pale skin. 

His fangs retract and he reaches for you, smoothing his bleeding thumb over the bite mark at your throat. You hiss sharply at the sensation and grip his shoulder, the burn of your skin knitting itself back together something you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. 

“I was too rough with you,” He comments, like he’s filing away that information for himself for next time. 

You shake your head though, resting your hand on his wrist, “You weren’t, I wanted every bit of it,” 

His thumb sweeps a final line over your skin and he kisses you again, “I’ll keep that in mind,” 

You smile against his lips, and then Sylus gives you one final, quick peck. 

“I think a shower,” He says, sliding you both smoothly off the bed and keeping you tucked in his arms, “and a nap,” 

“I think that’s a perfect idea,” 

“And I’m hardly hungry anymore,” He teases as he carries you into the bathroom, “but we’ll order something up for you,” 

You nod, relaxing into his care. 

“Perhaps a movie,” He suggests, sliding you onto the counter so he can start the shower, “or I could always read to you?” 

“Or you could tell me more about next time,” You say slyly, “what was it? Chasing me down in the woods?” 

He shakes his head, testing the warmth of the water on his fingertips. 

“Having your way with me?” You stretch out your leg to reach him, dragging your foot down his thigh, “Should I struggle? Beg you to stop?” 

His hand snaps up, closing around your ankle and he turns towards you, “Be careful, sweetheart,” 

“I’m simply curious,” You tease. 

“Mhm,” He scoops you back up and walks you straight into the shower until your back is against the chilly tile wall, “Curious?” 

You feel him hardening again against your belly and you nod.

“Kitten,” He smirks, “you know what they say about curiosity, don’t you?” 

“I think I need a little reminder,” You sigh, holding onto his shoulders again. 

He kisses you again, pressing you into the shower wall, a smile on his mouth as he nips at your lip, “I’ll bet you do,” 

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+. MDNI.

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

You knew this was a possibility, that's why you took extra precautions, tied the strings so well that you were sure you'll have to cut them at the end of the day. But here you were, contemplating how on earth did this happen...

Mina had finally pulled the entire group into going on a vacation, choosing one of the Okinawa beaches, all of you packed up and came to the private penthouse. The vacation was long overdue, everyone too excited to chill out and relax.

It was all good, friends chilling out eating, drinking and finally relaxing after months of tedious hero work.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, even if you had to deal with him. Bakugou and you had a sort of love hate relationship, constantly fighting but still having each other's back. Friends constantly commenting about the thick sexual tension between you both, which left you yelling at them, they weren't wrong tho, not that you would admit outloud.

"Move, Sugar." Bakugou rasps out, hand holding a can of beer, he was shirtless, wet swim trunks sticking to him thighs, tan lines clearly visible on his legs, he was still glossy from playing in the water. Had you hated him any lesser, you would have licked the water off him, alas that thought is something to be revisited in darker hours of the night.

"Go around the towel, dipshit", You retort, going back to lathering yourself up with sunscreen, he snorts, before stepping on your fucking towel and going along.

"Asshole!" You yell at him, whole he continues to laugh at your face. You took in deep breaths, this fucker isn't going to ruin your vacation.

You got back to your sunscreen, before reapplying you lip gloss, you put too much effort into your appearance today. It was a deep maroon two piece, the bottoms had a fabric around it making it seem like a mini skirt, while the top was tied with strings.

As much as you loved the bikini, the top was making you nervous, you had taken every measure to prevent the strings from untying, even kept a spear towel, having heard too many stories of women losing their bikinis in the sea making you paranoid. It was probably also why you hadn't ventured into the ocean yet.

"Gurll- you lookin' cute there." Mina walked up to you, handing you a bright blue concoction, you grinned at her before downing the drink.

"Thanks, babes." You giggled, cheekily winking at her.

"What aren't you getting into waters tho? The weather is pleasant too." She queried, leaning in to steal your gloss. "I am gonna go, just applied sunscreen." You dusted your hands, as you stood up, Mina finished putting on the gloss, tossing the tube in your bag before both of you raced into the waters.

The boys, Kaminari, Kirishima and Sero welcomed you both in with splashes, playing around in waters lasted for a bit, after multiple rounds of chicken fight, Kirishima called Bakugou, asking him to join in.

"Ain't interested in yer shitty games." He yelled back, didn't bother looking at the group.

"Scared you'll lose," Sero provoked him, knowing that with right words he can get Bakugou to do anything.

"Fuck did ya' say?" He grits out, before standing up and charge towards your group, all of you scream before swimming in different directions, trying to not be his first victim.

Adrenaline pumped through your vessels, as you swam to furthest end of the shore, leaning against the big rocks keeping you hidden from the main shore. Breathing hard, you placed a hand on your chest, trying to slow the beating of your heart. Only to come to a horrible realisation that you weren't wearing your bikini top.

You were bare from waist above, frantically you tried looking for you top, hoping to find a maroon cloth lying somewhere, unfortunately you couldn't see anything that could vaguely resemble your bikini.

Panic set in when you realised that from this end of the shore, you can't even go to your spot on the beach, chance of grabbing your towel without being seen by your friends were too thin.

"Caught you!" Bakugou roars as he swims around the rocks, only to be stopped as you let out a yell, turning away from him.

"Stay there, Bakugou!" You barely even stay afloat, hairs shielding your back, while hands crossing over your chest.

"What? You suddenly don't want to play, when I catch you?" He rasps out, slightly curious as to why you wouldn't even turn to face him.

"It's not that." You let out a sigh, contemplating whether it's a good idea or not to ask Bakugou for help, he could potentially swin back and get you a towel.

"What is it then, Sugars?" He is much closer now, you can almost feel him behind you. "My top is lost." You whined out, praying he helps you.

"Sorry, what?!"

"My bikini top is lost, it untied while swimming." You whisper-yell at him, giving him a stink eye over your shoulder. He doesn't reply, instead it goes too quite, you slowly peek over your shoulder, only to lock eyes at Bakugou who is already looking at you.

Infact he was looking slightly below, as if checking whether or not you had the top. "Fucking pervert, I'll beat your ass!" Had your hands not been busy you would have whacked him.

"I am not a fucking pervert, I was thinking."

"Had you thought longer, you would have popped a boner."

"You want my help or not."

You went silent at that, of course you needed his help, especially if you didn't want to flash your friends.

"That's what I thought." He speaks at your silence, his voice a little too smug, "you got spear clothes here?" He queried, swimming back a little to look at your bag by the beach.

"I have a towel in there, it's big enough for me." You answer him over your shoulder, he wasn't looking at you anymore instead he was turned away mostly, head slightly tilted so he could hear you.

"Stay put, I'll get it," he almost start swimming before he turns towards you and says "Try not loosing the bottoms, in the meantime." And off he goes.

You knew just from that comment, he isn't going to let you live it down, you are sure he'll probably end up changing your name to some stupid shit constantly reminding you of today, but at least he is helping.

Everybody had already gone inside, letting Bakugou get you, when he reached where your towel had been laid out, he looked for your bag, not wanting to snoop too much, he got to work, quickly looking into the back to realise that there wasn't any towels in it. For a moment he wondered whether he should gather up your sand towel but decided against it.

He quickly jogged over to his spot at the beach, and grabbed the t-shirt he was wearing earlier, getting back into the ocean, he swam towards the rocks where you were hidden.

"Oi! There wasn't any towels, got you a t-shirt tho." He stretches an arm towards you, wet t-shirt in his fist.

"I had one, tho." You look at him in confusion, submerged neck deep into the ocean, hands crossed tightly. You were facing him slightly, eyes looking that clothe, you unwrapped one arm, from around yourself and reached for it, Bakugou averted his gaze, further stretching out his hand so you could reach it.

He moved a little closer, eyes still looking away, arms spread to make sure nobody can see you, even if it a private area of the beach.

You put the shirt on, feeling a little less exposed, turning around to fully face Bakugou, "Thank you, I suppose." You sheepishly scratch the back of your head, assuming the interaction is over and you'll both head back in.

"First of all☝🏻'you suppose?' and secondly you owe me more than a thank you."

He spits out, crossing his arms, and jutting out his hips. You eyes immediately drifted to his tits pecs that had become extenuated, before immediately locking eyes with his.

"Fucking pervert," He mimicked your earlier words.

"I am not! What do you want, Bakugou?" You exasperated, sighing dramatically, crossing your arms as well.

He moved towards you, arms unfolding to sway by his side, "Be nice, Sugar."

You scoff, eyes squinting at him suspiciously, more than aware of how close he was to you. He leans in clear, backing you against the rocks, leaning towards one side, leaving ample space for you to move away from him if you wanted.

He was close enough you could feel his minty breath onto your face, he locked eyes with you before leaning in, instinctively you closed your eyes, head tilting as your hands came to rest on his chest.

The kiss was taking a bit too long, peeking with one eye, you realised Baking was staring at you with s grin on his face.

"You asshole!!" You yelled at him, pushing at his chest, trying to move away from him, he was cackling, hands still grasping at your wrists, not letting you move away from him.

"Sorry, sorry." He wheezed out, pulling you towards him,"Oi, I am sorry, listen Sugars."

You didn't care tho, too tired to be dealing with his shenanigans, he was determined tho, pulled at your wrists, turning to glare at him, you were surprised by feeling of his lips against yours.

You stood there limp, Bakugou taking the lead for you, one arm around your waist other tilting your head to the side, deepening the kiss. You slowly brought you hands around his neck, fingers coming to run through his blonde hairs.

You pull away breaths heavy, he continues kissing down your jaw, leaving behind love bites for you to later press into.

He comes back up, pressing his forehead against yours, "So, how 'bout I take you out, Sugars?"

━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━─━

[suffering-asthmatic-tifosi]

Tiny Hands, Giant Hands

Warnings: none, I mean this isn’t the best fic ever

Pairing: Hozier x Fem!reader (the gender isn’t even specified tbh)

Word Count: 613

Summary: Seeing Andy again after a long tour was the best, but something about him seemed different all it took was one touch for you to really see that.

You didn’t expect him to be at the party you got invited to. You assumed it was just some good friends reuniting after a while, and you definitely didn’t know your brother was so close to him.

“Oh hey I didn’t you’d be here” he said, making you turn to face him.

“I was thinking the same thing”, you said with a smile.

He asked you how you were and how your pets were doing. You told him about how you got a new cat and had a trip planned for Italy soon.

You both talked about everything, from his music to different breeds of cats. It felt so nice to be reunited after a long time of not seeing your friend.

But there was something different about Andrew. Maybe his hair was a little longer, or his eyes a little greener, but there was something about him that you never noticed before.

You didn’t notice but he felt the same way. Something was blossoming between you both. Something new.

“Oh my God y/n, you wanna know a funny story from the Tour?” He asked you with a goofy grin on his face.

You nodded yes, you loved his tour stories.

“So the fans have started making friendship bracelets and giving them to each other, I think it’s because of Taylor I saw her do that. It’s so sweet tho I quite enjoy it. But anyway, so one girl, she handed me a bracelet that said ‘The Hoziest’ on it. I thought it hilarious so I took it. The thing is it was much too big for my wrist. So when I almost fell off my hand, poor girl, she apologized so much. I felt a little bad so I twisted the bottom and made it fit nicely then she was so happy.”

“Awwwwe that’s so sweet the fans are sharing the bracelets with you” you said to him.

“It was very nice, but do my wrists look that big?” He asked while taking his thumb and middle finger and wrapping them around his wrist to measure.

“See not that big”, he said with his fingers around his wrist

“Andy your fingers are huge that doesn’t count.”, you said giggling, removing his fingers and wrapping yours around his wrist to measure with ‘accurate’ sized fingers.

“And your fingers are so short Y/n” he said with a chuckle.

You shook your head no and you both put your hand out to measure hands.

But because you could never have any _perfect_ rom com moment you both put out different hands. You go to switch you hands but he does too. You both go back and forth like this a couple times until he gently grabs your wrist and puts your hands together.

“See tiny hands” he says looking at you adoringly.

“No giant hands” you said, still looking down and your hands connected.

You looked up and locked eyes with Andrew. Maybe his eyes did get greener..

Your fingers were about to intertwine when-

“Hey Andrew get over here John’s trying to impress everyone with his guitar skills or lack there of.”

Andy chuckled and smiled at you before getting up to leave.

You weren’t even mad, there was a spark, you could feel it. And oh how exciting it was.

Now how would your boyfriend react to this…

[hisunshiine]

—college nights, diner fights | jjk

pairing: waiter!jungkook x waitress!reader au/genre: diner au, e2l, angst, smut, fluff rating: M wc: 9,664 warnings: POV switches (obvious, tho) mentions of domestic abuse and alluded infidelity (parents not pairing), JK's mom has terrible boyfriends and his dad is a petty "Disney" dad, Reader's parents are better but not around often, mentions of Jungkook having to protect his mom from the bad boyfriends, mean teachers, enemiesssssss, triggering middle school memories can be brought up upon reading the banter of middle school JK and reader LOL but also not LOL, swearing, vulgar statements, forced proximity, secret mutual pining, a drunken physical altercation/assault at work (mild), mentions of blood, minor cuts/scrapes, kissing, tattoo tracing SMUT warnings: oral (f receiving), praise an: shoutout to my beta readers @colormepurplex2 @downbad4yoongi @mrsparkjimin18 @peachiilovesot7 for helping me get this thing done in time despite me being on vacation and dragging my feet! thank you all so much for the motivation, for brainstorming, and just all around positive feedback! summary: If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen! You and Jungkook have been enemies for as long as you can remember—elementary school even—and when Seokjin hires him despite knowing this, you have to call a truce during working hours. When an incident at work leads Jungkook, and you, to put things into a different perspective, will the heated diner fights become a passionate college night? Or will it fizzle before it can start?

Bangtanstrology Writing Event hosted by ME of @bangtanwritershq

My Big 3 are: Sun (Member): Gemini- Jungkook, Moon (How They Met): Scorpio- Late Night Diner, Rising (Trope): Libra- Enemies to Lovers

Part 1: Elementary School

Elementary school is supposed to be fun. For you, 11 years old and in the fifth grade, elementary school is perhaps the best time of your life so far. Your dad signed up for career day, and you are excited beyond measure for him to come in and meet with your class to talk about his job.

It’s rare that you get to spend time with your dad, as his job keeps him pretty busy. The fact that he was able to show up today was a miracle in and of itself, but he negotiated presenting first so that he could leave first to get to work. 

“Everyone, please welcome our first parent speaker, Mr. Cha.”

Your classmates applaud as your dad steps forward to the podium in the front center of the classroom and you beam from ear to ear. He looks all spiffy—hair styled well, suit pressed, and shoes shined. 

“Good morning, boys and girls, I am Mr. Cha, and I am here to speak to you about my career. To be honest, I have two jobs,” he pauses as the kids, including you, look at him in both awe and confusion, “I am the father to that little girl right there,” he points to you and you giggle. “That is a full time job all on its own, but for the other time spent working, I am a plastic surgeon.”

You can’t help the pride you feel from your classmates clapping as your dad shares. He talks about the schooling needed to get to his position, shares study tips for the transition to middle and high school, which—while still some time away—will be good to begin practicing even now. 

“You’re so handsome, Mr. Cha! Have you ever had any work done yourself?” one of the students asks during the question time.

“Ah, great question! I have tried some of the treatments that we offer at my clinic, because if I don’t believe in it, why should others have faith in me and the services I offer?” he explains. “I had a colleague of mine fix my deviated nose bridge, which I injured playing basketball in college, and I maintain my skin with various anti-aging treatments as well. It’s important to start taking care of your skin even at this age! Princess, come help me please.” Your dad gestures to you, and you rise from the chair, only a little embarrassed at him using your nickname. “Help me pass these out to your classmates.”

You begin walking around the room, placing the small cardstock printouts on each of your classmates’ desks as your dad continues speaking.

“These are coupons for my office. You can give these to a family member, or if your parents will allow you to come in, we offer a free consultation to check your skin, and a reduced rate for any skin care products or procedures for any of my princess’s classmates and their family.” He wraps up his presentation there, pulling you into him for a side hug as he smiles at your classmates and the other parents waiting in the wings to present. “Thank you for letting me present, I’ve got to run because I have a rhinoplasty scheduled today, and I need to prepare, but I had a lot of fun talking with you all today!” As your dad kisses your forehead, he whispers a quick goodbye as he leaves your classroom. You’ve never felt so proud.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Okay, everyone, let’s line up for P.E.,” Ms. Kim directs, and you jump in line with your peers to walk down to the field. Your classroom teacher disappears for his break as Ms. Kim takes over, and thus ensues a battle between your class as you play ‘Capture the Flag’. 

“The rules are simple,” Ms. Kim explains, “a ball is placed on each side of the field in that box.” She points at the four cones creating a safe zone with a kickball inside of it. “Once the game begins, players have to cross the midline into ‘enemy’ territory to try and capture the ball and bring it back to their side. The other team has to stop you from stealing the ball by pulling the flags to remove your waistband—no tackling! Understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Kim!” 

“Good. If your belt is pulled off, you stand off to the side at the cone here, okay? That’s the jail. To rescue your teammates from jail, you have to high five them. You must return to your side before attempting to go after the ball again. Once a player enters the box, they are safe, but they cannot stay in there forever…” 

You tune out Ms. Kim because you already know how to play, and instead busy yourself with wrapping the tan belt around your waist, adjusting the position of the three blue flags hanging from it. The red team moves to their side of the midline, and you stretch your legs idly as you wait for the teacher to blow her whistle. 

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

Huffing, you pout as you walk to the jail cone, re-attaching the waistband that your classmate pulled off. He’s put you in jail several times now, almost as if he’s targeting only you during the game. It’s getting a little irritating, since Jeon Jungkook is the fastest boy in the fifth grade, but he’s spending all of his time chasing you instead of helping his team win. Even now, he’s guarding the jail so your best friend can’t come to save you again.

“Dang, JK, you pulled her flag again?” Kim Taehyung snickers loudly as he jogs over to where you’re held captive.

“Can’t let the princess get everything, now can we?” he taunts, a sarcastic tone to his words.

Kim Taehyung, unable to whisper to save his life, leans into Jungkook and asks, “Do you think her dad worked on her face? No way she’s that pretty on her own.”

Your feelings are split between irritated and pleased at the backhanded compliment. 

“She’s not that pretty, it looks more like her dad messed up her face, ‘cause she’s so ugly,” Jungkook counters, and it’s hard to decipher if his cheeks are red from playing or from talking about your looks.

“But, you said last week that she was—”

Ms. Kim’s whistle blows to end the game, and you miss the end of Taehyung’s statement. Walking away from the two fools, you barely get a foot outside of the jail zone when a sharp tug at your waist stops you in your tracks. You look down and see your belt missing, and hear a soft thud a few moments later as it hits the grass in the opposite direction several yards away.

Taehyung is laughing, his large boxy grin behind his hand as Jungkook smirks at you. 

“You lost.”

The two then take off towards where your teacher is collecting the game belts, leaving you to backtrack to get yours.

“What took you so long? Everyone else has already returned to the building. Taking your time  to head back to class is not good sportsmanship.”

“But, Jungkook—”

“No excuses. Hurry up and get inside.”

Jogging back to the building, you get another scolding when you reach the classroom, with your teacher telling you that just because your dad is a surgeon and came for Career Day does not mean you get to behave this way. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Jungkook eats up every second of the scolding, seeming to enjoy the way you wilt as it continues. As you walk back to your seat, you don’t see Jungkook stick out his foot, and you trip loudly as the desks and chairs nearest you clatter and clang as you try to regain your footing.

As the boys snicker at your forced clumsiness, you vow to yourself that Jeon Jungkook is the worst person to exist, and you will hate him for as long as you live. 

Part 2: Middle School

Jungkook’s had a hard week. Chuseok just ended, and he had to spend it with his dad’s family instead of with his mom this year, per their divorce agreement. He’s partially thankful because it allowed him a moment to rest. His hypervigilance with his mom’s new boyfriend is tiring, and his grades are suffering for it. But Jungkook is tired of these men sniffing around for a piece of the ‘supposed’ alimony his mom receives from his dad, because everyone was aware when the CEO of Jeon Industries divorced his wife and married his secretary. Jungkook begged to switch schools, but his parents refused, despite it being reported on several news outlets for a month in sixth grade. 

Eighth grade hasn’t been so bad for him though, no one talks about the divorce anymore, and Jungkook is able to be just Jungkook, known for his athletic abilities and gaming. He was able to guilt his dad into a new gaming computer, since he forgot to take him back to school shopping, and Jungkook is able to help his mom pay the bills each month with the earnings he makes betting on Overwatch. 

So when he returns back home, tired of hearing tales and seeing pictures of the trip to Cancun with the new baby that conveniently interrupted the planned shopping trip, to see his bed holding a Nike box with the shoes Jungkook begged his mom to get at the start of the year, he’s elated. He erupts into shouts and whoops of excitement, running to the kitchen to hug his mom.

“Ouch!” she can’t hide the wince as Jungkook pulls back from the embrace.

“I didn’t even squeeze you that tightly, Mom. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, you know how clumsy I am, I ran into the dining room table the other night—”

Jungkook doesn’t even think as he reaches for the hem of her shirt, barely lifting it to see an ugly burgundy bruise spreading across her abdomen.

“Mom! Did he do this to you?” Jungkook demands, fury building in his body. 

“N-no, honey, you know how I c-can be,” she stutters through the lie, but they both know the truth. 

“Mom, if he did this because of money, just return the shoes, it’s fine.”

“No. I bought those for you. You deserve them.” His mom is resolute, turning away and adjusting her shirt as she goes back to cooking dinner. “Plus, we broke up. He won’t be back.”

Up in his room, Jungkook readies the shoes for school tomorrow. He has a few nice things, his dad is a CEO after all, but after the divorce, Jungkook chose his mom, and his dad took it personally. His dad didn’t understand, but the choice was clear to Jungkook. His dad had a new wife, but his mom had no one. Jungkook couldn't leave her too. But his dad became spiteful after that, and so Jungkook can’t take most things his dad buys him to his mom’s house, including certain clothes and shoes. 

It’s why he’s so upset about his dad missing back-to-school shopping, because those were usually the only things he was allowed to take to his mom’s, but this year he has nothing new. Not until his mom bought him the Nike Dunks he’s been coveting. Jungkook is happy, proud of his mom for choosing him over the newest boyfriend, and lying in bed, he finally feels like maybe his life isn’t so bad. He hears a knock at the door, and his mom’s tired feet shuffling to answer it.

“Please, Jongyeon-ah, I promise, it won’t happen again.” 

Jungkook rolls over, grabbing his headphones to drown out the sounds of the pleading, good for nothing, weaseling himself back into his mom’s life.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

 “Yo, Jungkook, those dunks are fly!”

Jungkook props his shoes up on the desk next to his in class, showing off the brand-new kicks to Taehyung.

“Yeah, they're limited edition.” Jungkook knows his response is a little douchebag-esque, but he doesn’t care. He’s wanted these shoes for the longest time, and after all of the bullshit he dealt with during Chuseok and now waking up to see that greasy slimeball his mom said she was done with shirtless at the table for breakfast, he just wants to pretend for once that his life is perfect. 

“Take your crusty shoes off my desk,” you scoff. Jungkook ignores you for a few seconds, leaving his feet where he has them propped on your desk. He hates that you called his shoes crusty, knowing that they’re not. They don’t even have a speck of dirt on them! He made sure of that upon his arrival, being overly cautious with each step and wiping away any blemish he perceived to be there.

“Awe, is the princess jealous she doesn’t have the limited edition dunks?” Jungkook can’t pinpoint when this rivalry started, he just knows that for as long as he can remember, the two of you have been enemies. 

“There’s a reason the supply is limited. It’s because they’re ugly and they stopped making them once they realized someone would have to be an idiot to wear them. You sitting here with them just proves this point.” You push his crossed feet off your desk and he lets you, but Jungkook holds you in his glare.

“One day you’ll stop being a hater, drowning in all that Haterade you’ve been drinking,” Jungkook makes a play on words, and his friends ‘ooooh’ and high five at his middle school burn.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

At lunch, Jungkook precariously steps between the seats to avoid damaging his shoes. His shins are starting to hurt from how he’s walking to avoid creasing his sneakers, but it’s worth the pain to him. He’s successfully avoided getting any food on his shoes from the sloppy eaters, and as he makes the last stretch to the door, a loud yell catches him off guard.

“Watch it!”

Nayeon, one of your lackeys, warns everyone as she’s bumped by you and her red sports drink goes flying. Jungkook is stuck between tables, backpacks cluttering the aisle and Nayeon’s body flailing taking up all of the space. It all happens in seconds—a hip check, a flying drink, and the contents now strewn across the floor and Jungkook’s new sneakers and laces now stained a bright red, dripping across the leather and fabric of his brand new, limited edition Nike Dunks. 

“Oh my god, Nayeon, you are so clumsy!”

Jungkook gawps at you, unbelieving, as your annoying voice fills the silence that took over the room only moments before.

“So sorry, Jungkook. Nayeon bumped into me and then she spilled her haterade—I mean Gatorade—all over your new shoes! I hope those weren’t hard to get or anything! I’m sure your CEO daddy can get you a new pair.”

Jungkook storms from the room, seething at your audacity. If you had any idea about his life, would you treat him this way? He wishes you could walk a day in his shoes, maybe you would realize that life outside your perfect, princess bubble is not always sweet, and would think twice before being a bitch to him, but it’s too late for him to change his view of you. You are the devil’s spawn and Jungkook has never hated someone as much as he hates you.

Part 3: High School

Getting into BTS-U should be easy for you, what with your dad being an alumnus, but you don’t want to rely on nepotism. You’ve been working your ass off for good grades all four years of high school, and the final determination of your competency is about to start. Only one student can represent your high school as the Youth of the Year, winning prestige and honor by being granted early admission into any four-year university in the country of their choice without needing CSAT scores. 

The last of the trials, the oral interview, is scheduled for today and as you sit outside the room in the creaky, overly hard chair, your heart pounds. Of course, the final two students competing for this merit would be the two students who despise each other the most in the school, making the competition that much more important to you. 

You cannot lose to fucking Jeon Jungkook.

“We’re ready for you!”

The chipper voice startles you from your thoughts as you steel yourself to go into the final challenge. 

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Thank you all for your participation in the Youth of the Year program. As you know, the contenders were all very high achieving and will have plenty of options available to you for your future. Do not let not being named deter you from the future awaiting you all. Now, today, we interviewed the two finalists from this wonderful school, and while both were outstanding, one student really opened up and shared a vulnerable side to him that inspired us. He has already begun an incredible journey in his young life, showcasing a will to succeed. Jeon Jungkook, please stand.”

The crowd in the auditorium bursts into applause as you burst into tears. The one good thing about this ceremony is that the finalists do not sit on stage, so in the chaos and celebration, you are able to sneak away to the bathroom. Jeon Jungkook looked so shocked to have been chosen, but you knew that he couldn’t actually be shocked. His mom stood up with him, hugging him with pride, and your parents couldn’t even be bothered to show up for such an important moment. 

You tell yourself it’s not a big deal, that you have done well and will most likely have the same options for college as Jungkook does, but being a Youth of the Year finalist is not the same as being the Youth of the Year. What really hurts you the most is that if the roles were switched, Jungkook’s mom would be there to hug him and tell him he did great and fought hard. If you had been chosen, you still would’ve been alone, but at least the loneliness wouldn’t have hurt as much. 

The judges who interviewed you must think you don’t need the help, that you have everything you could ever want, so why would they choose the spoiled little rich girl? Why would they choose the girl who eats dinner with the maids, who read bedtime stories to herself growing up, the girl who has everything—everything except a family that loves her more than their careers and supports her unfailingly?

Facing the mirror, you reach for your purse and pull out the small makeup pouch so that you can erase any evidence of the sadness you feel today, brimming with the unshed tears of yesterday, and prepare your battle face to go back out there and be cordial as the runner up. Another battle you’ll face alone. 

Part 4: College at BTS-U

“Welcome to Jin’s Diner, have a seat wherever you’d—what the fuck are you doing here?”

The chiming of the door opening caught your ear, so you’d turned to greet the newest customer, except instead of an overly tired trucker or a group of post-clubbing college students, you’re faced with one Jeon Jungkook.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” he asks, eyebrow pitched and smirk full of snark.

“No, I kiss your father with this mouth. Now get out.” You go back to wiping down the counters, ignoring the stare of your arch-nemesis as you finish cleaning.

“Now, now, Baby Cakes, let your new coworker into the diner so you can finally get the help you've been asking for.”

You turn to the owner’s son, Kim Seokjin, mouth gaping open in confusion. “Coworker? I thought you read through the notes I made on all of the applicants?”

“Yes, I did, and they were very helpful. He’ll be working nights with you, so show him to the back while I grab a lock for his locker and a uniform.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Cakes.”

Seokjin disappears into the hallway towards his office, and you turn back to Jungkook, who’s standing smugly with his arms crossed watching you.

“Ugh, keep up, small fry.” 

Jungkook’s black boots squeak along the freshly mopped floor as he hustles to catch up with you. The doorway behind the counter opens into the kitchen, where the two line cooks, Hoseok and Yoongi, work diligently. Hoseok is sitting next to the recently delivered products with a clipboard in hand as he counts the items, while Yoongi is wiping down his area before the rush begins. You clear your throat loudly to gather their attention.

“We have a new waiter, his name is Jeon Jungkook, but he shall go by Small Fry, I think.” The smile on your face is devilish, and the two men snicker as they take in the newbie rushing in behind you.

“Wait, why am I ‘Small Fry’?” he asks, only a little out of breath from having to round the counter and catch up to you.

“Because everyone who works here gets called a food nickname, helps with the creeps, especially on nights.”

“I’m Suga,” Yoongi greets, “and this here is Hobi-Honey, but we just call him Hobi for short.”

“And I’m Baby Cakes, as you heard bossman say.”

“What’s your real name again, Small Fry?” Yoongi asks, his platinum hair shining in the fluorescent kitchen lights.

“It’s Jungkook,” he answers, emphasizing his name as he glares at you.

“Hmm, Baby Cakes, I think he might be better suited to Cooky…”

“Isn’t that too close to his name?” you argue, hoping to keep Small Fry, but when you see Hobi shake his head, you know you’ve lost.

“Fine, Cooky it is then! Next new hire will be called Small Fry no matter what!” you concede, waving Jungkook to follow you towards the back of the kitchen.

He trails you quietly as you push a swinging wooden door with a circular window in it and lead him into the employee lounge. Seokjin is whistling to himself as you enter, twirling a metal lock around his finger. You look around the room, surprised at how quickly he had everything ready.

“Great, you met Suga and Hobi then?” he asks, nodding at the door you just entered.

“Yes, I figured it would be best to do that first on the way here.”

“So, Jungkook—”

“He’s Cooky,” you interrupt, but Seokjin just shakes your rudeness off.

“—Cooky, this here’s the lounge. The door you just entered is used while you’re on shift for breaks and such. When you arrive for your shift and leave for the night, it should always be through the door behind me.” He gestures to a purple-handled door. “To the left are the employee cubbies, and to the right, we have the laundry station, small kitchenette, and door to the staff bathroom.” 

You nod at the TV mounted on the wall next to the swinging door. “The remote always stays on this table,” you tap the main table in the room that seats six, “and we typically keep the TV on ESPN, MTV, or my personal favorite, HGTV.”

“Thank you, Cakes. Now, your Jin’s Diner gear stays here, we’ll wash it for you after each shift you work.” Seokjin points to a stacked washer and dryer in the corner. “Just throw it in the wash after your shift each night. We’ll put it back in your cubby for you once dry.”

Jungkook nods, but he looks a bit overwhelmed from all of the information. You take the lead and sit down first hoping he’ll follow you. You know Seokjin talks fast and moves through the employee information even faster, and despite not liking Jeon Jungkook, you need the help on your shift since Mochi quit to focus on his last semester.

You grab a permanent marker and white label from the center of the table, tossing it across to Jungkook with a little more force than necessary.

“We each have a cubby, with a small locker inside. Use this to write your name and then claim an empty spot, and you can also write your name on the tags of your uniform.”

Seokjin grabs plastic-wrapped clothing articles from the cabinet next to the laundry station and approaches the table, too, tossing down the new clothing. 

“Your gear. Shirt, apron, and a ballcap. If you want a visor instead, let me know. Black, khaki, or blue jeans, black non-slip shoes, keep the blingy jewelry at home.”

“Dammit, I was planning to choke him with his chain after the first shift.”

Seokjin levels his gaze at you, and you know you’re pushing your limits with him. 

“I’ll have you follow Baby Cakes around to learn the drill for taking orders, but mostly you’ll be bussing tables tonight. I’ll work on the final processing of your paperwork in the meantime. Cakes, come with me while he changes.”

You follow Seokjin out of the lounge and back towards the office. He opens the door and steps back to allow you to enter first, shutting the door behind him as he follows you into the room.

“You need to tone it down. I know you said that you and he have some bad blood, but we need the help and he’s the best applicant we have.”

“It’s deeper than that, Jinnie, he’s literally been tormenting me since elementary school. We work with heavy-duty machinery and cutlery. You might come in one morning to find that one of us has stabbed the other to death.” You push out your bottom lip and give him your best, roundest, watery puppy eyes. “Is that what you really want?”

“What I want is to have a fully staffed evening shift so that my best girl can stop having bags under her eyes and complaining about her feet hurting every shift.” Seokjin smiles teasingly at you. “Plus, you need a good annual review to get a raise, and training new employees looks good to the owner.”

“Your dad is the owner! You can just tell him to give me a raise!”

“I could…but this is so much more fun. Who knows, he’s kinda hot…maybe you find out that the reason he’s picked on you your whole life is because he has a crush on you.”

“That fallacy is just a way for the patriarchy to continue to push abuse acceptance and the ‘boys will be boys’ agenda.” You cross your arms, but overall you know Seokjin is right. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to adapt well to situations, put a fake smile on when you need to deal with rude customers or your parents missing another monumental event in your life. “But fine. At work, it’ll be a ceasefire. That’s about all I can promise you.”

“I thought you said there would be a ceasefire!” Seokjin yells at you from where you sit in his office. Jungkook is seated next to you, slouching in the chair with his head turned away towards the wall. You can see his jaw clenching every few seconds as Seokjin continues berating you. “Instead, I got a call from a family friend that you two were so busy yelling at each other for not doing your jobs that you effectively stopped doing your job!” 

You huff as you roll your eyes, turning away from Jungkook’s severely hot—no—aggravating jawline, (where did that thought even come from?) to respond to Seokjin.

“That’s not even what happened last night! This idiot decided to fuck with the seating and of course, since the big game is tomorrow, we had a lot of people stop in and it was noisy. I was trying to seat the guests who were being louder and rowdier on one side so that our regulars,” you glare at Jungkook, who’s still refusing to look at either you or Seokjin, “could dine in peace, but when I ran to the back to restock the napkins for the bar top, he seated people himself. He’s not the host. He’s still a newbie! It’s been, what? Three, four months?”

“...Four,” Jungkook mumbles, but you ignore it.

“And so then poor Mrs. Hana ended up dealing with the hooligans who disrupted her meal, and yes, it was when I was trying to explain to him how seating works—”

“I know how seating works, it’s not rocket science!”

“So then why would you mess with the flow of the diner and seat them there?!”

“Because you,” Jungkook finally breaks the stoic act and turns to face you abruptly, so much so you almost visibly jump, “kept seating the large groups in your sections, which meant that you were giving yourself the better tips and leaving me with the geriatrics who barely leave anything!”

“Are you serious? You think I was trying to take tips from you? I hate dealing with the sports crowd! I would have gladly traded with you if you had said something to me, but you were too busy ignoring me when I was trying to talk to you about dividing up the floor—”

“—you talk to me like I’m a child, so of course I was ignoring you, you dolt—”

“—really piss me off, you think I would stoop so low, probably because it’s what you would do—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Seokjin’s eyes have a hardness to them you are not used to seeing. He’s usually laid back, but the stress lines on his face speak to an underlying tension you aren’t aware of. “Look,” he takes a deep breath, rubbing his hand over his eyes briefly, “this can’t happen again. Mrs. Hana could’ve broken her hip slipping on the spilled soda, and her son is debating suing us. My dad is obviously handling this situation, but that means your jobs are on the table. If her son demands it in exchange to avoid a lawsuit, I can’t stop it.”

It settles on you at that moment, how severe this is. You know that the little, old lady regular slipped and fell, but both you and Jungkook rushed over to help her up, comping her meal and walking her outside to sit quietly and assess how she was feeling while waiting for her son to arrive. Not only that, but he didn’t seem mad when he picked her up—just worried about if she was in pain and if she needed to go see a doctor. Apparently, after the shock wore off, his anger set in.

“I’m sorry, Seokjin. It won’t happen again.”

“Get to your shift, I’m sure Nam—I mean Porkchop—is ready to go. Remember, Suga will be late today, the championship game is tonight. So no more ignoring the hooligans and Cooky,” Seokjin gives his leveled glare to Jungkook this time, “Baby Cakes is in charge. I know you’re eager to prove yourself, and you’ve done well so far, but she’s worked the aftermath of championship games before.”

Jungkook stares back at Seokjin, a low humming tension filling the room before he answers with a “Yes, sir.” 

The diner is louder than Jungkook’s ever heard before as he goes around clearing tables now that the game is over. His coworker, Yoongi, did amazing from what he saw on the screen. BTS-U wore their white home jerseys with purple and black lettering, so it was easy to see when number 3 hit the game-winning three-pointer. 

Now, as the same white jersey is stepping into the diner, all of the fans cheer and bang their cups and silverware to congratulate the MBC Cup National University Basketball Championship’s MVP for the win tonight. 

Jungkook looks across the dining area, where he sees you kneeling on the countertop clapping your hands above your head. The uniform dress that you chose for tonight has risen higher up your thigh than normal—probably from the way you climbed up onto the counter—giving Jungkook a pretty good view of the skin leading up to what he’s sure are lace panties. He’s walked in on you changing one too many times to not know your preference. 

He can’t look away from you; something about the sheer energy radiating off of you is magnetic, as if you’re lit from within, and before he knows it, he’s moving closer to you. Jungkook knows he can’t stand you personally, but physically? He’ll never admit this aloud—not since Taehyung almost told you the truth back in elementary school— but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

He doesn’t have much time to ponder your looks as you bring two fingers to your lips and let out a loud wolf whistle, setting you off balance with the action. Luckily he’s already been pulled into your orbit, because he catches you with two strong hands on your waist before you can fall off the counter.

“Thanks, Cooky!” you say, eyes alight and voice pleasant, as if you’ve forgotten who Jungkook is to you, and who you are to him. 

“No problem, Baby Cakes.” Jungkook helps you climb down, and when you bend forward to place your palms on the counter to dismount, he sees his hypothesis on your panties is right. His eyes remain on your ass as you extend a leg to the floor, and despite the trouble the two of you got into before your shift, Jungkook can’t seem to care to remember why he shouldn’t be enjoying the view.

“Congrats, Suga!” Jungkook watches as you launch yourself into Yoongi’s arms, giving him a loud smooch on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cakes, that last shot was for you.” He winks, and Jungkook doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so affected, but he wants to blame it on those panties you unknowingly flashed for the irritation he feels toward his friend for flirting with you. She’s your enemy, Kook, get it the fuck together.

Jungkook stalks away, grabbing his bussing bin and rag so he can clean up the table of the group in line to pay.

🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️🍽️

“Fuck you and your sorry-ass school!” 

Jungkook turns his head to see you standing feet shoulder-width apart with your arms crossed, looking so much like the evil bitch he’s come to know. Only this time, it’s directed towards an EXO-U fan, by the looks of the silver and black shirt he’s sporting.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

You command the space well, and had the man been sober, he probably would have listened to you when you gave him the polite option to leave on his own two feet. As luck would have it, the man grew more belligerent with each passing moment, causing Jungkook to run and grab Yoongi from the back to help handle the situation. Jungkook doesn’t like what he’s hearing when he returns to the front.

“You dumb cunt, we don’t have to leave! Come over here, baby, suck my cock like you suck their players, bet that’s why they won, huh? Saw you all over their star player earlier, let me get a piece, bitch.”

Jungkook wants to lunge at the man, but Yoongi beats him to the table, effortlessly grabbing the man by his arm and neck to yank him from his booth seat.

Jungkook gets to his other side, helping the man walk towards the double glass doors as Yoongi mutters menacingly at the patron.

“Best not show your face around here again, if you know what’s good for you. Find another place to eat, and we won’t beat your ass.”

Yoongi lets go of the man once they clear the sidewalk into the parking lot, the man’s friends stumble out behind, but Jungkook shoves the man hard, and he falls to the ground. He feels no remorse for the man; he reminds him too much of the creeps his mom dealt with: stench of alcohol on their breath that grew with each vulgar word that rolled out of their mouths, animosity leeching from their greasy skin—Jungkook needs to wash his hands and splash his face. 

Fleeing inside, he bypasses you cleaning up the mess the rowdy table left behind, unable to hear the words you say clearly enough to decipher them. He knows that it’s almost time to close up and he has a few tasks to do to help speed up the process, but he’ll get to them in a minute. He just needs a minute to shake off this feeling, and then he’ll be okay to do the final cleaning for the evening, and find out what you said.

You’ve always hated dealing with the championship game guests, but always loved being with the crowd because of the thrill and your love for the game. The shift wasn’t terrible work-wise, as Jungkook really pulled his weight throughout the shift, allowing you to be in charge as the hostess and main waitress, filling in where you needed and bussing tables as the guests rotated through the double doors.

And you can’t lie, when you almost lost your balance on the counter, it was kind of hot that he was there to catch you, and help you down safely. With his jawline that can cut glass and his warm hands sitting large on your hips, you were a little sad to have them drop away, but you hid your disappointment in congratulating Suga and then moved on with the shift.

Of course, such a perfectly good shift had to end with a douchebag. To your surprise, when you turn to look to Jungkook for help, he’s already approaching with Suga in tow. And damn your worst enemy if he doesn’t do the second hottest thing of the night, vanquishing the drunkard with the sailor’s mouth from your sight, his foul friends trailing behind. 

You clear off the table, the half-eaten food discarded in the trash and you realize that it needs to be taken out now before the last of the tables are done. Jungkook speed walks past you, so you call out to him, “Cooky, take the trash out, please!”

You finish sweeping under the table, then wipe down the booth’s table as Suga also returns inside, pausing to check on you.

“Everything good, Cakes?”

You nod, placing a hand on your hip as you reflect on the incident. “Yeah, he was a real fuck boy, but you and Cooky saved me just in time.”

“Always…I’m surprised Cooky was so worked up when he called me from the kitchen. Usually you two are at each other’s throats, I would’ve thought he’d enjoy seeing you deal with a rude customer.”

“Well, we did get yelled at earlier by Jin for last night, so we promised to work together and drop whatever rivalry we have during working hours. So maybe that’s it.”

“Mmm…maybe. Well, let me go help Hobi, this last wave will keep us later if I don’t.” Yoongi takes a few steps to round the counter, then calls back out to you, “The trash is about to overflow, Cakes!”

Frowning, you notice that Jungkook has yet to return to take out the trash. Glancing around the room, you see most of the tables are in stages of eating or waiting for their food. They all seem well and distracted with clips from the post-game coverage, so you decide to take out the trash yourself. Maybe the truce between you and Jungkook isn’t as intact as you think. 

Grumbling to yourself, you tie off the bag and lift it from the bin, foot angled to keep the wheels from sliding across the floor from the tug. You eye the replacement black bag, but decide to put it in once you return from the dumpster. 

You hate taking out the trash; you love feminism but some tasks are just made for men. You refuse to use the loud trolley with the janky wheel, so you carry the bag gingerly, resting it down every few steps as you make your way across the sparsely lit back parking lot.

“Well, if it isn’t the bitch who didn’t let me finish my meal.”

You snap your head around, eyes roving for the source of the raspy words, finally landing on the douchebag discharged from the diner only 10 minutes ago.

“We didn’t charge you for it, so I suggest you leave before this turns into a real problem.” You keep your eyes on him, watching as he shifts around on his feet, inching closer to you. You hold your stance, refusing to look weak in case he decides you’d make a good target.

“Maybe if you come suck me off like a good girl, I won’t leave a bad review online about how much of a cunt you’re being. Matter of fact, throw in some pussy, let me fuck you properly and I bet all that attitude will drop. You just need someone to tame you.”

The man lunges for your left arm, his meaty fist closing around your wrist and you pull back to break the contact but he’s strong. You yell out, stumbling back away from the trash bag and he follows, heavy footfalls adding to the sounds of the evening. 

“Let go, you freak!”

You jolt your arm, wrenching it in as many directions as you can to try and relax his grip but he pulls you closer to him until you can smell the ethanol on his breath as he places his other hand forcefully on your shoulder. 

“I said I wanted you on your knees, stupid bitch,” he utters, and reflexively you punch him in his dick. He groans and releases you, hunching over in pain. You make out a figure stepping through the service door, and you call out for help. Attempting to step around the man, you only make it a few steps before you feel the weight of the man bearing down on you again.

“You stupid bitch!”

You try to run, but the man has the back of your dress in his grip so instead, your shoes scrape the asphalt in the same place repeatedly. A loud thwack of flesh on flesh sounds right before you’re released, dropping the short distance to the concrete. Your palms and knees feel the sting of the gravel but the relief of being out of the man’s hold overpowers any lingering pain as you scramble to your feet. 

Behind you, Jungkook is pummeling the man in the face, and you pause for a moment in shock before you rush back to him, grabbing his bicep to stop him from swinging again.

“Cooky, stop, I’m okay! Jungkook!”

He freezes, turning to look at you as if to see if your statement is true, and seeing that you’re serious, he appears to deflate a bit, no longer an attacking watchdog but a protective knight, making sure his charge is unscathed.

“Let’s go.” He gestures for your hand and you place yours in his, letting him guide you away from the groaning sack of trash and the garbage bag on the ground.

The fluorescent lights of the break room are blinding after the darkness of outside. Vaguely you hear Jungkook yelling at the others working, followed by the clattering of kitchen items, but you’re so out of sorts you don’t even realize that Jungkook has maneuvered you into a chair and is gently checking your knees, palms, and arms. He brushes off the remaining dirt from your skin.

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

His voice sounds pained, and this pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present with him. 

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“Where all did he touch you? It might not hurt now, but once the adrenaline dies off, you might feel it.”

“Um, my arm, my shoulder, I can’t…I don’t know.”

“It’s okay, let me check your neck…he grabbed your dress and pulled you, so I wanna make sure it won’t bruise.”

He takes your face in his hands delicately, tilting your head to expose your neck to his view. The proximity has your head spinning, his cologne enveloping you as he leans closer, a hand leaving your cheek to allow a finger to trail across your neckline. You know he’s just checking to make sure that there’s no lingering marks, but you don’t think that the after effects of tonight will be anything anyone can see. He grabs a glass of water for you, and you sit quietly while he tends to the minor cuts on your palms from the jagged gravel in the parking lot. 

Time seems to pass as you’re deep in thought, but you’re not sure how much until Seokjin appears, his purple and white painted face replacing the doe eyes and clenched jaw. He looks frazzled, as if he just left an after-party for the championship and was pulled into work. You realize after a moment that that’s actually what happened, and chuckle at yourself. He says your real name, pulling you out of your laughter.

“I’m so sorry this happened, luckily Jungkook was there. I don’t know what I would've done if something happened to you.” Seokjin pulls you into a hug, and you reciprocate, squeezing him tighter as the feeling of being held feels good. He pulls away sooner than you like, but he continues talking to you about what’s been going on since you’ve been sitting in the employee lounge.

“Look, don’t worry about staying and cleaning up tonight, okay? We’ve got everything under control. Hobi called the cops and Yoongi made sure the guy didn’t flee before they came. He’s in their custody now.”

“What about Jungkook?” you ask, uncharacteristically using his given name.

“He’s giving his statement to the police now. They’ll want to talk to you too, but I can put it off for tonight if you need,” Seokjin offers kindly, but you want to get it over with.

“It’s okay, I’ll speak to them now.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll grab one of the detectives now and they can take your statement, and then I’m sending you home. Jungkook will drive you, okay? You’re still a bit shaky.”

You look down at your hands, seeing the tremble Seokjin is referencing and nod. There’s no use in putting up a fight. All of the men you work with have now proven that you’re safe with them. Seokjin walks over to the door, popping his head out to call for an officer, and he paces quietly as you recount what happened, starting with the attacker growing belligerent in the dining area. Once finished, Seokjin grabs Jungkook from where he’s talking with Yoongi outside the door, ushering him to take your belongings and get you home.

You follow along, compliant, waving goodbye to the others as Jungkook pulls off into the main road back towards campus.

“You live by BTS-U, right?”

“Yeah, at Omelas, next to the train tracks.”

Neither of you speak again until he parks, turning off the engine to his jeep.

“Here, let me help you.” Jungkook grabs your backpack and climbs out of the SUV, coming around to the passenger side door to open it for you. You jump out and lead the way to your first -floor apartment. Unlocking the door, you flip on the lights as you toe off your non-slip work shoes.

“My roommate is out of town visiting her parents this weekend.”

Dumping your purse onto the kitchen counter, you walk further into your home, Jungkook trailing you slowly. He kicks off his shoes, socks shuffling quietly along the carpet as he enters your living room after closing and securing the front door lock. He places your backpack on the couch, and the two of you stand there awkwardly.

“Um, do you want some water or something? I have juice, milk, beer…” you trail off, uncertain.

“Water is fine, thanks.”

You grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it with ice water to return the favor from earlier as you bolster your courage to thank him. You hand him the glass and before you can think too hard, you just start speaking.

“Jungkook, I just wanted to thank you, for coming out there and, you know, saving me. I know we don’t get along much, but you really came through and I appreciate it.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen, blinking up at you from where he’s sitting on your couch. He takes a long sip from the glass, and he seems uncertain if he wants to speak but does so anyway.

“It was nothing, really.”

“Why, um, why did you help me, I mean—I’m just saying, oh this is coming out wrong—”

“Look, I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with creeps like him. I’ve had to do it plenty for my mom, and I just don’t like to see anyone getting hurt, not even my arch nemesis.” Jungkook tries to joke it off at the end, but his tone reveals so much more to you about what he’s not saying.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was like that for you back in high school.” You sit down next to him, closer than you normally would with your backpack taking up part of the seat, but you don’t mind it. You feel safer being closer to him.

“I mean, why would you know?” he asks, leaning back into the couch and taking another sip. “You have a perfect family, I’m sure nothing like this happened on the weekly at your place.”

“No, but like, my perfect family isn’t what everyone thinks it is, either. My parents didn’t pay attention to me, always busy working and what not. Honestly career day, back in like fifth grade was the only time one of my parents made it to something, and even then, it was so my dad could advertise his business. I felt so sheltered growing up, like I had no life skills. It’s why I work at the diner.”

Jungkook digests your words, understanding blooming through his chest. 

“I get that. It’s funny, I remember that day so well, I was so jealous of you, because your dad showed up for you. I guess our dads are the same though…I think if I had grown up with my parents still together, I would’ve felt like you do. My dad kind of left me behind when he remarried, you know? In a way, that made me less sheltered, because when I was with my mom, I had to grow up fast. I couldn’t always have the nicest things because she couldn’t always afford them.”

“I didn’t realize that you had to split time between them. One of my friends, Jimin? He told me about how your dad wouldn’t let you take things back and forth between houses.”

“Why did he do that?” Jungkook looks a little scandalized, and you’re sure it’s because Jimin is one of his best friends. He’s the one who recommended that he apply to Jin’s Diner in the first place, and how you knew to warn Jin to not hire Jungkook, not that it worked. “I didn’t know you were close with Jimin!”

“We used to work together…you actually replaced him. It’s why we were hiring in the first place. But, he told me that because he was trying to get me to ease up on you one day. I was complaining about something and he was trying to make you more human, I guess.”

Jungkook just nods. You know he probably realizes there’s no reason to be mad, it was all in the past and Jimin was coming from a good place when he revealed that.

“Well, it’s true. My dad is kind of the worst. My mom saved up to get me some Dunks back in middle school because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take me back to school shopping. As if I didn’t grow a foot and 3 shoe sizes.”

“Oh fuck, you know, I’m sorry for making Nayeon spill her drink on your shoes. That was really evil of me.”

“We were like 13? 14? All middle school girls are evil.” Jungkook chuckles. You’re relieved at how gracious he’s being, but a little annoyed. You turn to him to say as much, but he continues to speak. “Honestly, I don’t even know why we went toe to toe like that. We probably would’ve been best friends if we had combined our smarts. You were really great during the Youth of the Year competition. I’m sorry that you didn’t win, I think you deserved to.”

Jungkook is looking back at you now, with his pretty doe eyes, sitting so close to you. You don’t know what to say so you don’t say anything, instead focusing on his star-filled eyes and the way they’re staring into your own. His arm moves slowly, lifting to bring his hand to your face, curling a tendril of hair behind your ear.

“It’s getting pretty late now, I should get home,” he starts, but his eyes speak volumes and it doesn’t seem like he wants to leave just yet. “But there’s still one more thing I need to apologize for.”

Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to what incident it could be when his lips meet yours in a tender kiss, not too forceful but not shy either—just the right amount to let you know this isn’t a mistake. It takes you a few seconds to respond, but when you sense Jungkook about to move away you pull him in closer, keeping his lips where you can access them. It’s not enough though, so throwing caution to the wind, you straddle him as your tongue swipes for entry, pushing him further into the couch as you lean into his fit body. He groans at your boldness, large hands planted firmly on your ass as the kiss deepens. You feel dangerously high, lacking oxygen, but you can’t stop—you don’t want to stop. He’s intoxicating.

His fingers tighten imperceptibly, and you know he, too, is at the end of his air, so you break apart, chest heaving as you stare at his lips, red and plump from the kiss. 

“That was your…apology for? Or you were…apologizing for…kissing me?” you pant, trying to catch your breath.

“Both?” he says with a cute, bunny-like smile, “one, for hating you all these years, and two, for kissing you out of the blue.”

“And if I want you to apologize to me more?” you half-question, half-goad, and Jungkook gives the right answer, leaning into you once more so he can kiss you hard, teeth nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away.

“That’s something I can do.” Jungkook uses his strength to flip you onto your back on the couch, knocking your backpack out of the way and onto the floor. “Is this okay?” He searches your eyes for your consent to his hands on your thighs, fingertips skimming the hem of your dress. 

You nod, and he trails them higher until he’s grasping the band of your panties and sliding them down without haste. You enjoy the commanding presence he takes on, unlike the people you deal with on a daily at work, indecisive with what to order, he knows exactly what he wants, and when Jungkook pushes up your dress and buries his face between your thighs, it takes everything in you not to climax right then. His tongue flits around your clit, teasing you as his hands massage your thighs while keeping them wide for him. 

“Jungkook,” his name is a breathy whisper in the air as your fingers curl around his locks, tightening your grip when he flicks closer to where you need him. “Please.”

You wiggle your hips, searching for more friction from his tongue but he just pulls away, tutting his tongue at you for being bad. You sit up slightly to glare at him.

“Patience, baby.”

Whining, you lay back on the couch with a huff. “This is why we hated each other bac—oh, fuck me,” you finish with a moan as he flattens his tongue across your pussy and stimulates every nerve he can cover. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he begins to suck, gently flicking his tongue every few seconds as he positions two fingers at your dripping center. Delving inside of you, the plunge of his fingers reaches the ache inside of you, causing your legs to tremble as he fine-tunes your body like an instrument. 

“Feels so good, mmph, fuck,” is all you can manage to say as he continues to pump his fingers, the squelching of your walls suctioning them back in with every tug out only making you wetter. Jungkook hums, and the thrumming sensation curls your toes. Arching your back, you tug his hair hard as you mewl loudly from the impending orgasm.

“You can do it, baby, cum for me,” Jungkook praises, “you’re doing so well, squeezing my fingers so tight, watch me.”

When his mouth once again finds its rhythm on your core, it takes just a few seconds of making eye contact with Jungkook, doe-eyes wide as he watches you enjoy his tongue, before you shiver and melt into the euphoria he’s bringing to your body. 

“That’s it, fuck—you look so pretty, baby.”Body spent, you stare up at the ceiling blinking as you come back to earth. Jungkook tucks himself behind you, holding you in his arms. You look down at the arm over your waist, your fingers lightly tracing the tattoos on his exposed full sleeve. You can feel his bulge, know that there’s so much more…apologizing you both need to do after years of being enemies, but you have all night for that. And in the morning, you don’t know what will happen, if there will be more to come after tonight, but what you do know is that at this moment you don’t hate Jungkook; not even a little bit, not even at all.

🍽️🍽️🍽️

© hisunshiine 2023. All rights reserved. 

thank you for reading!!!

[jakesangel]

baking with jake ꣑୧

thinking about rainy and boring days with jake. every lego set or marvel movies already been watched ten hundred times, but your boyfriend can't stop whining on your belly, wanting to do something. babyyy~ please play with me, he whines, behind your phone screen, you simply laying on your bed. there is nothing do to jake, we can cuddle and watch a movie tho ? you ask him, still not really paying him attention, mindlessly scrolling on tiktok.mmh okay, he sadly say, his puppy ears going low. the idea to cuddle with you is appealing to him, just enough to make him stop pouting for a while. he backs up a bit from you, and come on top of your chest, right under your arms. his head is between ur soft skin and your phone, eyes looking at what is taking your attention away from him.

the silence is comfortable between you, his whines breaking it here and there as he wants needs your hand playing with his hair. which you gladly comply, making him sigh in contentment. the both of you watch your thumb scrolling on tiktok, him secretly waiting for you to get tired of it. but it's only then he sees a baking video that you scroll past on. he excitedly break away from you, and position himself o nhis knees, his puppy tail wagging, let's bake baby, please ? we will have so much love, he says as his hands claps together. he even uses the round eyes + small pout combo to be sure you'll give in to his pleadings.

you're now behind your counter, all ingredients laid out, jake looking for a playlist to play. what music do you want to hear ? he asks, eyes still strained on his phone, i dont know ? something slow but not sad ? like jazz or rbnb maybe ? you reply, a but unsure as you dont know how jake will be today. clingy ? serious ? funny ? alright, love he mumbles. it takes a minute for him to find it, and once the phone finally connected to the speaker, he sets the phone down and come closer to you. alright, so where do we start ? dry ingredients right ? at first jake was really helpful, doing everything what the tiktok says and was following throughly every step, even measuring with precision all the ingredient. but as the time goes by, n the soft mood sets in thanks to the music, jake can't help but take your hips in his hands, swavving them along the music. jake... ? do i have the remind you that you're the one who ask to bake ? you chuckle a little as he keeps moving along your hips, come on, love, dance with me, he softly replies back, this time hugging you close, his head on your shoulder. you're almost done and i want to dance with my pretty girl. you knew your boyfie wouldn't stay put in place, his needs to be close to you at all time always catching him and no matter what you say, his body will react for him, you can only make him wait. wait til it's ready to put in the oven and ill be all yours yunie. and just like that he just back hugs you, eyes on your soft hands making the dough. he kisses your shoulder and trails the kisses to your nap and neck, you smell so good baby, he whisper as he kisses right behind your ear.

once finally done, he helps you withe oven, taking the tray in one hand and hold yours in the other. he leads you there and once set and oven closed, he takes your lower back in the other and start to slow dance with you. he pulls you close and put his head on top of yours. his natural odor and his arms encircling you, makes you feel safe and at peace. the slow movements and his relaxed breathing against your head makes you comfortable, almost sleepy. this is much better than cooking, he whisper to himself. you can barely heard it as his voice muffled because of arms surrouding your head. you hum, knowing he would feel it on his chest, and dig your head deeper, sighing in contentment. he smiles to himself, understanding you also feel the comfort he is feeling at the moment.

notes : i'm so delulu i need to bake cookies w him asap

perm tag list ( open ) : @allurecile @luvj4key @stwrjvke @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @luvlyhee @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @erenmyman @hoonored @jlheon @ghostiiess @vlaeaex

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ christmas cookies ] j. hughes

day three of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) and Jack make a bit of a mess in the kitchen when they bake Christmas cookies since they’re both home because of the snow

warning(s) : some sexual content and language, implied sex. mainly fluffy tho :)

author’s note : i KNOW this is very late according to the schedule i put out but it was my birthday weekend so i didn’t have much down time to write or post anything. i think day four is coming at some point during the day tomorrow so keep an eye out for that

༺═──────────────═༻

"Jack!" (Y/N) yells as she runs back into the bedroom. "Jack. Baby, it's snowing and I don't have to go to work." She happily jumps on her side of the bed and crawls up to her sleeping boyfriend. Jack lets out a groan when she lays herself on top of him. She's like a happy puppy.

Jack mumbles an "it's early" and doesn't open his eyes.

She frowns and sits up on his waist. "It's snowing," she tries again. "I think you promised me that you would bake cookies with me next time it snowed since we would both be home all day." When Jack doesn't move, she begins to jump up and down on her knees like she's riding him. "Jack Hughes, get your cute ass out of bed and make cookies with me!"

His hands fly to her waist and stops her. "(Y/N)," he slurs. "Keep doing that and I will not make cookies with you. I will be making babies with you."

"Sounds good to me either way," she teases. That gets Jack to open one of his eyes. (Y/N) smiles. "Tell you what. If you make cookies with me then we can come back to bed and we can do whatever you want to me. I can still walk so obviously we didn't do enough last night."

Jack to flies out of bed butt ass naked from the previous night. (Y/N) laughs and watches him put on a pair of sweatpants and one of his Devils t-shirts before practically sprinting to the kitchen. She follows him in one of his larger Devils t-shirts that has his number on the chest and a pair of tiny shorts underneath.

The messy hair while Jack runs around their kitchen to grab what he considered cookie ingredients. "Baby, you can barely cook broccoli," she comments as she walks toward him. "I don't think you know how to bake cookies."

Jack's head snaps up. "Hey, I'm still learning," he snaps. "Get over here and help me get cookie stuff together."

She laughs and helps him out. She pulls out bowls, spoons, and the baking pan that will need to be used to actually bake the cookies.

The kitchen island is filled with different dry and wet ingredients and utensils that will need to be used to make the cookies without making a complete mess out of their kitchen.

Honestly, the kitchen will still probably end up being a mess because that's the way the two of them work. They're a messy couple and all of their friends know it. It's why their friends refuse to make food with them. Something always happens and food ends up everywhere.

(Y/N) pulls a chocolate chip cookie recipe up on her phone while Jack puts on some music so it's not dead silent while they're baking. He settles on Christmas music since it is technically Christmas Eve. She smiles to herself.

Jack comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist while she's leaning over the counter. She can feel his semi press against the top of her thigh right under her ass. "Jack, behave," she warns him. He definitely didn't take the warning seriously since she's smiling at how needy he is.

His love language is definitely physical touch, and she loves it.

The first step in baking cookies is mixing the dry ingredients together before incorporating the wet ingredients. In the biggest bowl, (Y/N) lets Jack measure and put in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. She works on the butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar in a mixing bowl.

While she begins to mix the eggs and vanilla in with the creamed butter and sugars, a white powder hits her in the face. She blinks until her eyes are clear and hears Jack laugh at her side.

"You're an ass," she tells him as she wipes the flour away from her eyes. Jack is leaning back against the counter as he laughs. "I didn't want to make a mess, Jack.

"You were an easy target," he tells her with a smile. "I couldn't help myself."

She blinks at him before she grabs a handful of flour and throws it in Jack's face. He coughs and wipes his own eyes. "That was deserved."

Jack looks at her. The white powder is all over his face and in his hair. She smiles, proud of her retaliation. She barely has time to react before Jack throws another handful of flour at her. He barely misses her face and she throws another handful at him.

They're both laughing and running around the kitchen throwing flour at each other. Jack catches her in his arms and she squeals.

He picks her up by her waist and spins her around until her waist is pressed against the counter. They're both covered in a layer of flour but she smiles up at him. Jack brushes some of the flour out of her hair and off her face.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he softly says.

His little name for her makes her heart jump in her chest. Her eyes meet his and she surges up to press her flour covered lips to his. Jack immediately kisses her back and presses her waist against the counter.

Her fingers are gripping his t-shirt. Her pinkies touch the skin on his waist and a jolt of electricity goes down to her core.

One kiss and she’s aching for him.

(Y/N) is the one to break the kiss and Jack chases her lips.

“Can we please put these together and in the oven so we can go shower?” (Y/N) asks when she pulls back from the kiss. She suddenly wants to get these cookies made so she can get back in bed with her boyfriend.

It’s insane that all Jack said was ‘there’s my pretty girl’ and she’s weak at the knees for him and kissing him while they’re both covered in flour.

Jack nods and they rush to finish making the dough so they can put the cookies in the oven. Jack starts doing the dishes while (Y/N) puts the baking sheet in the oven with the balls of dough on it.

As soon as the timer is set, she grabs his hand and they walk to their bathroom. “I was cleaning the dishes,” Jack protests.

“And now you’re going to clean yourself,” she retorts.

(Y/N) closes the bathroom door behind them. Jack’s eyes are on her as she turns the shower on.

She turns around to face her flour covered boyfriend. “Are you going to get naked or are you going to stand there and look pretty?” she asks.

“Oh I am so going to keep making messes in the kitchen if it means getting to shower with you,” he comments as he begins to undress. “You’re going to keep your promise and let me do what I want, right?”

“As soon as the cookies are done.”

༺═──────────────═༻

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 1,982 others

yourusername someone decided to make a mess in the kitchen then distract me so we had to remake the cookies since they got burnt

view all 291 comments

trevorzegras can’t trust a hughes in the kitchen

yourusername fr

lhughes_06 so rude trevor

_quinnhughes i hope the cookies were good

jackhughes eh. the chocolate chip ones were probably better

yourusername the world may never know

jackhughes not my fault you look so damn fine baking cookies. even when you were fully clothed, i was distracted

nicohischier jack calm DOWN

lhughes_06 that’s disgusting bro

jackhughes LOOK AWAY LUKE. NOT FOR CHILDREN’S EYES

dawson1417 lmaoooo

yourusername can you stop traumatizing your brother

colecaufield damn he hit you with the flour huh

tysmith_06 can he cook broccoli yet ?

yourusername nope

jackhughes what the fuck

༺═──────────────═༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dancerbailey3 @dasiysthings @axaslee

[atlabeth]

you’re beautiful — anthony lockwood

summary: a meeting goes wrong, feelings come out. you’d like to be sedated again, please.

a/n: so this started as part of “leave the door open” but then i decided i wanted something different (hence the wound dressing scene) but i really liked what i wrote there so here’s an entirely different fic! wow enjoy

wc: 2.5k

warning(s): reader gets stabbed, quite a bit of blood, couple death jokes, mention of not eating, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending tho

There was a saying in Lockwood & Company, courtesy of its namesake, that, if you had enough confidence, you could dazzle any ghost into submission. 

Nothing but facetiousness of course, but it was true in a symbolic sort of way. If you didn’t believe in yourself, in every slash of your rapier and every circle of filings and every salt bomb measured to perfection, then there was no use showing up at all. You might as well sit down and wait for the ghost-lock to set in. 

Lockwood’s words kept coming back to you every time you doubted yourself, his charming smile and eyes popping up in your mind, twinkling as he made you laugh. 

And those words were certainly echoing through your ears as you stumbled through Portland Row’s door, a hand still pressed to your abdomen when you collapsed. Your rapier, still holstered, clattered against the floor.  

George called your name from the kitchen, cheerfully oblivious to your joy. “You’re finally back! How did the meeting go?” 

When you could only groan in response, he emerged into the hallway and his eyes instantly widened. “Oh my god— Lockwood!” 

He rushed over and helped you up, propping you against the wall as his eyes darted all over. He took one hand away to push up his glasses, and you noticed he already had some blood on your fingers. “What in the world happened?” 

“The meeting didn’t go well,” you grit out, sucking in a breath as a sharp column of pain shot through you. 

“I could gather that,” George said wryly, and when you heard footsteps, you both looked up to see Lockwood taking the steps three at a time. 

“What in the world happened?” he asked brazenly, a wild look in his eyes. 

“That’s what I asked—” George said, and your breathy laugh was interrupted by a grimace. 

“The meeting didn’t go well,” you repeated. 

“I need actual details,” Lockwood called as he went off in search of the medical kit. 

“Everything was fine,” you grumbled. “But as it turns out, our lovely source Mr. Pallworth was more skilled in getting into trouble than actually being an informant. He was in debt to some even lovelier relic men.” 

“Oh, god,” George muttered. You winced as he put more pressure on your wound, having taken over for you. “I’m sorry, but this is so you don’t bleed out.” 

“Did you get into a fight or something?” Lockwood marveled, bounding back over with a white box in his hands. “Because it looks like you were stabbed.” 

“One point for Anthony,” you said groggily. “Mr. Pallworth ran off the moment he could, leaving me to deal with his mess. I was indeed stabbed. Only once, somehow. The relic men deserted when the police showed up, and I wasn’t far behind.”

Lockwood knelt down next to you, and he looked at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled your shirt up to expose your wound. He did a good job hiding his grimace as he began to gently wipe away the blood, but it was still there. “Why did you come here and not immediately to the hospital?” 

“I don’t know if you remember, Lockwood,” you breathed, “but this job that we’re doing is not exactly legal.” 

“I don’t care,” he enunciated. “This is above our paygrade, and your life will not be on the line because of our lack of medical knowledge.” 

“We either have to help her here or get her to a hospital,” George said, “because if we sit here bickering, she’ll bleed out before we make a decision.” 

“I’d rather die here than a hospital,” you said.

“You’re not going to die here,” Lockwood said harshly, and his hands opened and closed into fists. You could almost see the gears turning in his head. He eventually let out an annoyed sigh and glanced at George. 

“Phone 999,” he said. “She’s not dying because of her stubbornness.”

George nodded, grimacing at the blood on his hands—your blood, you supposed, which made it worse—and he ran off. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have sent you there alone,” Lockwood grumbled as he started taking things out of the medical kit. 

“No, you didn’t,” you said. “We had no reason to believe anything like this would happen.”

“Well— I should have known!” Lockwood’s voice rose, and his jaw clenched as he got himself back under control. He continued to clean out your wound, and you could hear George rattling off information in the distance to the authorities. 

“You’re cute when you’re determined,” you said. 

“I am determined to not let you die in our foyer,” Lockwood said.

“The foyer.” You mimicked Lockwood’s voice. “So posh.”

“If she’s being this annoying, she can’t be doing too bad,” George said dryly. 

“Loopy from the blood loss,” you said offhandedly. You frowned as it sunk in. “Maybe I should go to a hospital.”

Lockwood heaved a very dramatic sigh as he continued to keep pressure on your wound. “At least you’re coming to your senses now,” he said dryly. He was still kneeling next to you, his hands covered in your blood, that wild look in his eye. “What the hell took so long?”

“I’m not…” you blinked the black spots out of your vision, “good with hospitals.”

“Well, I’m not good with you dying,” Lockwood said.

George came back over. “I’ve called the police—an ambulance is on the way.”

You groaned, half from the pain and half from the thought of the police. “We’re going to have so much explaining to do.”

“Leave that to us,” Lockwood said. For some reason, you found yourself grabbing his hand. He didn’t hesitate, his throat bobbing as he laced your fingers together. “Just hold on for a bit longer.”

You nodded, your mouth going dry for a moment when you looked at him— really looked at him. 

There was unbridled fear in Lockwood’s eyes, the slightest glimmer of tears. If you weren’t slowly bleeding out, if the black spots weren’t taking over your vision, if your grip on his hand wasn’t loosening, you might have been embarrassed at his closeness, at his doting.  

But apparently, you weren’t. 

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured. 

And then everything went dark.

-

You were assaulted by a barrage of lights and beeping, too-bright fluorescents and the sterile scent of disinfectant alerting even your still groggy mind that you were in a hospital.

There was something in your arm—multiple somethings, actually. A tube with a lot of red in one arm, and another with clear liquid in your other arm. Blood and an IV, you guessed. 

Right. You were stabbed, and one does not just walk away from a stab wound without a few problems. 

You weren’t dead, though, and that surely counted for something. You would have to thank Lockwood later, for his stubbornness beating out your own. 

“You’re awake,” a voice breathed, and you realized it was just the boy you were thinking about. 

Lockwood sat next to you in a chair pulled up at your bedside. His tie was undone, hanging around his neck, and he’d draped his jacket on the back of the chair. His eyes were slightly red, but there was undeniable relief sketched into his face. 

“I am.” Your voice was raspy from disuse, and you grimaced at the soreness in your lower chest. “How long has it been?” 

“A few hours,” he answered. He cleared his throat and moved to the edge of his chair, and your eyes followed the movement. He was holding your hand— he’d been holding your hand. “You— um, you had surgery. A small one, it didn’t take too long, but—” Lockwood’s voice broke, and he laughed mirthlessly as he shook his head. “It was scary. Terrifying, actually, but…” he managed a smile. “You came out the other side. You always do.” 

Your breath caught for a moment, and your grip on his hand tightened subconsciously. “I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” Lockwood asked wryly. “It’s not your fault you were stabbed. You did a rather excellent job fighting them off, actually. It could’ve been much worse.” 

“I’m sorry for putting you and George through this,” you murmured. “I worry about the two of you every second of every day, and most of the time it doesn’t come to fruition. This—” you laughed, which immediately turned into a wince— “I’d say this is fruition.” 

“I’m just glad we got you here in time,” Lockwood muttered. He looked at you, his eyes boring into you with equal parts concern and desperation. You used to hate that about him, especially when you joined, how it always felt like he could look at you and know every single thing. “You said the police showed up in the fight. You were obviously injured— why didn’t you get them to call an ambulance? Why did you risk it all to come back to Portland Row?” 

“I told you. The job we took on was illegal, and I felt it was going to be a much bigger mess than we needed to deal with.” 

“I don’t care how illegal it was,” Lockwood said stiffly. “You were hurt— you were in danger. That comes before anything else, alright? You come before anything else.” 

The intensity of his voice made you pause, unable to do anything but… look at him. His hair was tousled, no doubt from running his hand through it endlessly as he was wont to do whenever he was stressed. His undone tie and discarded jacket, his eyes, red from… from crying, most likely. He cried over you. 

When your hand tightened around his this time, you did it on purpose. 

“Thank you,” you murmured. “You’re probably the reason I’m alive.” 

Lockwood managed to crack a smile. “It wouldn’t look good for the agency if my employees started dying. I don’t have very many to lose.” 

That got a genuine laugh out of you, and you tried your best to ignore the subsequent wince. “Of course. That’s why I pulled through, to make us look better.” 

“Your efforts are much appreciated,” he said, that small smile still on his lips as he rubbed mindless circles on your hand with his thumb. 

The door creaked slightly as someone pushed it open, and a smile broke out on your face when you saw it was George. 

“I was wondering where you were,” you said. 

“Tea,” he said, lifting the drink holder with one hand and a box with his other, “and donuts.” He looked at Lockwood pointedly. “You’ve got to get something in you. It’s not exactly healthy, but the sugar will help.” 

You looked at Lockwood. “You haven’t eaten?” 

“I was preoccupied,” he said dryly. 

“That’s no excuse,” you said. “Eat your donuts, and as soon as we get home, George is cooking you something.” You looked up at him. “Right?” 

“Right,” George agreed. He handed Lockwood one of the cups and set the box on the table, and he smiled as he took a seat across from you. “You look much better. You’re bossing everyone around again—I take it you’re doing better too?” 

“Much,” you nodded. “Thanks for getting me here, by the way. I’d probably have bled out if it weren’t for you.” 

“Of course.” George took a donut from the box. “I can’t let you leave me alone with him.” 

“Oh, I would never,” you said wryly. 

“I’m surprised you’re willing to be alone with him after what you said,” George said offhandedly, and both you and Lockwood stared at him. 

“George—” he started. 

“What do you mean?” you interrupted. 

He made that funny little expression where he knew he said something he probably shouldn’t have, and he busied himself with his donut. “Nothing.” 

“George,” you deadpanned, “I’m the one in the hospital bed. I have pity points. Tell me.” 

Lockwood sighed and leaned back in his chair, though you noticed he still didn’t let go of your hand. 

“I’m guessing you don’t remember what you said,” George said slowly. “Before you blacked out, I mean.” 

“No.” Your eyes darted between the two of them. “Why? Did I say something awful?” 

“Not awful,” Lockwood said, still looking away. “Pretty far from it, I’d say.” 

“Why are you two acting so weird?” you asked. “Spit it out!” 

“You called Lockwood beautiful,” George finally said, and you just about died right there. “Right before you went out, you said he was beautiful.” 

You blinked. Looked at Lockwood, who didn’t seem to be the slightest bit embarrassed—god, was he smiling?—looked at George, who was this time busying himself with his tea. 

“You’re kidding,” you said. 

“...He’s not,” Lockwood said, tilting his head to the side. “You did do that.” 

“Looked up at him, said ‘you’re beautiful’, passed out.” George shrugged as he took another sip of his tea. “Quite dramatic, I’ll give you that. It drove Lockwood absolutely insane, too.” 

“George,” Lockwood said sharply, “don’t you have a phone call to make?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. How could I forget?”

You weren’t even able to watch him as he walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Lockwood. You wanted to melt into the bed. This was the absolute worst way for your feelings to come out, feelings that you were content to let sit forever and never really reveal. Apparently, you couldn’t even almost die with dignity. 

“It’s alright,” Lockwood said. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.” 

“No, I do have to be embarrassed.” You stared up at the ceiling. “I do have to be embarrassed, because my last words could have been ‘you’re beautiful’.”

“Why?” he asked. “Do you not think I’m beautiful?” 

You groaned, and if you hadn’t been practically immobile, you would have buried your face in the pillows. “Get a nurse to sedate me again, please.” 

Lockwood flashed that irritatingly pretty grin as he took your hand again. You hadn’t even realized he’d let go. “Relax. I think you’re beautiful too.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “Even now?”

“Even now,” Lockwood said. “Always.”

“At least you’re not saying it half-conscious and dying,” you mumbled. 

“I think it’s better I’m saying it now,” he said. “You know I mean it.” 

You looked him in the eye. “You really do?” 

“What did I just say?” Lockwood chuckled. “Always. Forever.” 

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks. “I can’t believe this is what it took to get you to admit your feelings.” 

“It took this for you to admit your feelings,” he countered. “It took you admitting them for me to admit them. I never really knew you felt the same way.” 

“I guess I have a flair for dramatics,” you said wryly. 

“It seems so,” Lockwood said. “How about after all this is done, when you’re good and cleared by the doctor, I’ll take you out for tea. My treat.”  

“You pay my salary,” you said. “Everything is practically your treat.” 

Lockwood grinned. “Do you want to go on a date with me or not?” 

You smiled, and you pulled your joined hands closer. You pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I’d like that a lot.” 

“Excellent.” He smiled as well, a breath of relief coming out of him, and he leaned closer. “Just remember that you don’t have to get stabbed to get me to ask you out on a second date.”  

[silentcryracha]

❍ ‗ Cooking with Felix ‗ ❍

Pairing : Felix x f reader

Summary : chapter six of a cute standalone miniseries. It's what it says in the title

Genre/ Warnings : scenario/imagine/headcanon, drabble, fluff, crack lol, disasters in the kitchen but that's it

Word count : 990 words (longest yet)

A/n : Just got the news that him and Seungmin are living together...they'll live off brownies and cookies I fear. Also the green muffins story it's true, that's me I'm bitches

ps: There could be grammar errors. Do NOT repost on other socials. Leave feedback if you feel like it, otherwise enjoy! ♡︎

masterlist

series masterpost

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You and Felix both had a thing for the kitchen. Wether this was good or bad, well, it depended on the situation.

Felix had an extraordinary gift for baking sweets, specifically. His cookies, banana bread and brownies were renowned for being amazing. And that's honestly impressive, it does take a certain type of precision to bake.

On the other hand, when it came to actual cooking...like salty meals...well!

He tried. He really tried. He just didn't have the same gift at handling salt as he had with sugar. Like than one time he wanted to surprise you and tried key word tried to cook seafood pasta...

"Hi Lixie" you called out as soon as you arrived home.

"Hi angel, I'm in here!" he replied, and when you understood that his voice was coming from the kitchen, as well a certain smell, you just had to take a deep breath before walking in.

"Oh wow! Did you make something nice?" the sweetness in your tone along with a kiss on his cheek covered a bit of the fear.

He smiled widely, making a funny excited noise as he kept stirring the spaghetti and sauce in the pan. To be fair the smell was not bad per se, it was just a bit strong since it was seafood. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?

"So how is it? I actually added a bit of spices because I didn't think the color of the sauce was quite right." he talked casually, as you sucked in the inside of your cheeks to try and desperately activate some salivation as well as sedate the sting caused from the pepper.

"Mmh", you took a generous sip of water nodding, more to try and not disappoint him too much than to agree.

"It's certainly...savory" you smiled, clearing your throat, "Maybe a bit too spicy for me you know? I'm a bit weak ahah"

His face drops a bit, in confusion at first, since he knows that's a lie and you handle spice well. Or better than him, regardless.

So he reaches for his fork, rolling some of the spaghetti on it, then putting it into his mouth.

As soon as he chomps down, his jaw freezes. His brown eyes glaring at you like you cooked the damn pasta.

"How is-"

"Shut up" he interrupts while spitting the bite out in a piece of paper.

But thankfully he barely, if ever, got baking wrong. It had become almost a 'saving grace' for Felix. He had to bring a housewarming or dinner gift? Cake or sweet bread. He wanted to make a snack for you or the members? Brownies or cookies. He needed to ask forgiveness? Pick either of the previous options.

On the other hand, if that was his strong point, it definitely wasn't yours. The most you could do was have pre-packed and measured ingredients, maybe then you could avoid fucking it up.

Lord knows you became as much as a liability as he did when you tried to use the oven.

As soon as the boys finally got a break, Felix walked back to his bag, fishing out his phone, actually meaning to write to you.

But you wrote first! And what he saw made him a little worried but mainly smile, endeared. It's just his nature to always be positive after all.

hi bub <3 how's practice going?

I saw this recipe on tiktok and I kinda tried to make it with what we had at home lol

It's still in the oven tho so I think they'll be ready just in time when you get home

say hi from me, laters <3

Felix smiled and responded with a selfie of himself pouting, saying he can't wait to be home and wash up. And was also looking forward to this treat!

Famous last words...

"Okay I need you to be a bit open minded right now"

"Right" he nodded, still in his practice clothes. He had just stepped foot into the apartment and already smelled something burning.

"They- uh- listen they're a bit ugly, a bit melted let's say...but it doesn't mean they'll taste bad!" he was genuinely trying not to laugh with all his might, seeing you so flustered.

"Let's see the creatures, then"

"Oh my God don't call them that" you yelled, effectively making him lose his shit and start laughing. He raised his hands in defeat.

"I'm just saying! I don't even know what you made, you keep calling them 'them'!" he explained. You waved him off with one hand.

"Yeah yeah, okay", you bent down a bit to open the oven, which actually didn't exactly smell bad, it just smelled a bit intense. You probably overcooked whatever it was, he thought.

Nothing could've prepared him for the absolute failed laboratory experiments that you put on the table. He truly couldn't even tell what they were supposed to be. Mini cakes? Muffins?

The only indication was the paper wrappers that, fortunately, contained the -most certainly- radioactive results.

He bit his bottom lip, slowly walking closer to inspect the situation.

"So...what were they supposed to be, angel?"

"Uh...blueberry muffins?" you responded sheepishly. He nodded slowly, closing his eyes to try and contain himself.

"I see." he courageously reached to take a tiny piece of dugh -the one that didn't explode, that is- and tasted it.

He chewed, genuinely trying to savor it and see if it was any good. He sighed.

"I think that something was wrong in the main dough, angel. That's why it kinda exploded and didn't rise properly." he explained sweetly, pulling you closer by the waist.

"How about we set aside these green hulk babies and tomorrow, since I've got the day off, we don't try again together?" he smiled when he say you smile behind the hand covering your face.

"Okay" your voice sounded small, like a scolded kid. He chuckled, kissing your forehead at your cuteness.

"Okay."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[anon-sect]

Max was in the back room monitoring the security cameras. He kept an eye on one guy who seemed suspicious. He didn't want to jump to conclusions before seeing any evidence of foul intentions. As he monitored him, he saw him stuff several store items into his jacket and zip it up. He had to teach this shoplifter a lesson. He told one his employees to keep an eye on him while he left to confront the guy.

The employee pointed to the guy when he got in the area of the store. He has had stuff go missing recently but was unable to catch the culprit. "I think you have something that belongs to us." He spoke to the guy, who seemed to brush off the accusation.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Larry replied back, trying to play it off. As long as they couldn't prove it, he could once again get away with stealing from the store. So far, they haven't caught him yet.

Max was not letting him get away with robbing them blind once more. "I saw you on the camera stuffing a few items in your jacket. You can either fess up or I call the police and show them footage from my security cameras." He paused as he decided to increase the pressure on him. "I think you have been the one doing the recent thefts in my store. I am sure my cameras can probably prove it if I look a little further." He finished. If the guy failed to submit, he would proceed with his threat for sure.

Larry didn't need to be arrested for shoplifting. He could call the store owners bluff, but that could land him into a lot of trouble with law enforcement. He didn't want that. He unzipped his jacket and handed the items to the store owner. "Happy now? Can I go?" He asked back, annoyed that he was caught.

Max had no intentions of letting the culprit just walk out his store without learning a valuable lesson. "Sure, just know I will report the other thefts, and report you as the suspect." He threatened to him.

Larry surely didn't want that to happen. He had to bargain with the store owner to keep law enforcement out of the situation. "What can I do to make this situation vanish? Do you want me to never come back into your store ever again?" He asked, wondering what he would request to keep the cops out of this mess.

Max smiled. "A weeks time helping me out here at the store and with other things would do." He offered to him. Max smiled because he knew exactly how the thief was going to help him, and it wasn't just in the store only.

"Okay, deal, just don't call the cops, okay." Larry agreed. He followed the store owner to the back as ordered. Once the door was closed, he saw him hold a strange device in his hands. "You time starts now." The store owner spoke as he fired a ray of light from the device. A few seconds later he lost consciousness and fell to the floor.

Max smiled happily as where the thief once stood was now a black pair of AND1 sneakers. One week's time under his feet should do it, he thought to himself as he took off his current shoes and put on the newly formed sneakers. They felt so good under on his feet. He should try more living inanimate objects more often, he thought.

Larry suddenly awoke to a slightly foul odor. He tried to get away from it but found himself completely unable to move on his own. He also felt himself wrapped around something that was causing him an intense measure of pain. He finally figured it out when he felt toes wiggling on his face. The foul smell was in fact the vinegar smell of sweaty socks. The pressure he felt was feet standing on and crushing his insole face. He was literally a pair of shoes. He knew exactly whose feet was wearing him, the store owner. He wanted to curse the guy out, but now all he wanted to do was be normal again. He didn't want to be footwear. Just standing still was very uncomfortable for him as sneakers. All of the store owner's weight bearing down on him, along with foot odor and sweat. He mentally pleaded for this to be some crazy dream, but it was his reality. A week's time as sneakers, he thought his mind might not survive it.

As Max continued to work, he decided to the thief really needed to learn a lesson that would be permanent. Since he stole from him, he would steal his humanity from the thief. He would keep him as his sneakers and treat him as the object on his feet. No more humanity for the thief. At least this way, he won't have to worry about him stealing from his store ever again. The next thief he catches just might be a pair of socks. If living inanimate objects felt this good, he just might have to get more. As for how the thief would feel about being shoes for the rest of his life, he didn't care how the guy felt about it. Shoes don't have any rights anyway.

[scrawnyghstts]

idk if this has been done already but here's OUAW party as the Soldier, Poet, King alignments headcanons

Gideon and Torbek are Soldiers

Gricko is the Poet

Frost and Kremy are Kings

Twig started out as a Poet, but I think she's on her way to becoming King

more elaborate ramblings under the cut

this is all how I understand them and the alignments btw (+ some articles I found and what I remember of edits back when the song went viral)

Gideon is what you think of when you hear Soldier, the viral quiz talks about strength and anger, about using your physical power to deal with things, for better or for worse - all of this feels cut out to measure for Gideon. His strength is who he is, his identity, and his freedom. He's proud of it, putting up a fight brings him joy. Does this also mean that sometimes he struggles to approach more delicate matters? yeah, but he does try his best. Sometimes the strength is also his shield and the walls he builds, especially with his past, he needs to keep pushing onward, the danger is always in the back of his mind, and he needs to keep fighting. It's hard to relax and let others help him, shield him, it's hard but he's getting there. Soldiers also know who they are, they choose their role of protectors and fighters.

Torbek is also a Soldier, not like Gid tho, there's more to it clearly, with The Other (/Duke or whatever). Torbek also chose his role as a soldier, he cares for his friends, for the people who took care of him, and kept him around, he'll do anything to protect them and fight for them. He's most useful with his physical abilities and strength rather than his mind so he uses what he knows best to help. The measure of violence and anger overwhelming any other solutions is of course much different for Torbek, because of The Other. I think that's why Torbek chooses the role of soldier, he knows what to do to be the most useful, but there's conflict within, he keeps running and fighting but more from what's within him.

Gricko is a Poet, because he believes in the power of his heart, spirit and words over anything else. He's the oldest of the group, and he's experienced a lot, but I believe that throughout it all he realised that without a steady, strong heart and spirit, without love, care and humour, you won't get far. Hootsie was of course a big part of all of this. In the quiz poet's are also described as lonely people, the type to wear their heart on their sleeve, and give to others at the cost of their own feelings. I see that in Gricko, even if a lot of his interruptions are done for comedic value, there is hardly any true ill intent behind them. Gricko is also a performer, writer and musician, he keeps art close and uses it to help others (e.g. calming down Torbek with his singing)

Frost is a King and I think he knows it, he's accepted that the role fits him and found comfort in it. Some say that kings are poets made fighters, I think that tracks with (what I know at least) about his backstory, there was that breaking point, a tragedy that changed him, that made him turn to his calculated side and focus on his goals, duty, and put emotions to the side. Suddenly a different purpose was thrown on to him and he had to follow it. He's seemingly cold, always analysing, maybe even distant with his monotone voice, perhaps he thinks he has to be, keep his hands steady and his mind sharp. But Frost still cares, the emotions might be shoved to the side but not gone, he still wants to help and cares for his friends, even if it means constantly "mending" things they broke.

Kremy is a King, who didn't expect to get that result when he took the quiz, as many other kings to be fair. He thinks of himself as a poet, a master of words, charisma, schemes and contracts. He's also a good performer and a good cook, who puts his heart into the food he prepares. On the other hand, he fought his way to get the status he has, so how is he the king…? But then, he is the leader of the carnival, he is the face of the party, the one willing to bargain and talk his way out of things with just about anyone, create alliances and turn them into betrayals in a heartbeat. He's doing what needs to be done, he's fulfilling his duty. He's also a warlock, there's a line in the quiz about "[king] you were told to do things and you did them", which, his relationship with his patron isn't exactly that, but if we remember Garou, there is definitely a connection. I also think that Kremy is always on alert, always presentable and charming, hardly ever dropping his mask no matter how exhausting it gets. Sometimes or maybe more than that, he wishes he could, but again, he has things to do, a duty to fulfil in order to keep his friends safe.

Twig - I think the adventures are making her, metaphorically, pick up the sword. She's so kind and warm, maybe even naive when she was still running her inn, celebrating simpler things and being the happiest when she made others happy. She was also incredibly lonely in her inn, as the Poets tend to be. But now with all the happenings, I have a feelings she might be on her way to becoming King. I don't think it's certain, but what I'm trying to say is that she wanted a jolly adventure but realised there's much more danger and responsibility, that she has to fight for her friends. for her family, she has a duty to protect them. She asked for the adventure but she was thrown into something much bigger than her and now she has to fight. I somewhat hope she'll in the end stay true to her heart and won't bury it for anyone's sake, and will keep being a poet. Another argument for her being a poet is her brownie nature, maybe always feeling a little off or like she might not be welcomed, due to her turning into a boggart when overwhelmed by negative emotions.

okay that's all, I wanted to try and wrap my head around this because I love the song and also love psychoanalysing characters, alignments n all so :) yeah

[inchidentally]

https://x.com/charlclerc/status/1749478427239891090?s=20

I think someone here missed the sight of a soaked Oscar <3

ok so big shock!! I'm gonna use this sweet little morsel of Lando pausing in his remaining winter break to look back on that glorious day

to create an absolute smorgasbord of what Suzuka meant to him and to Oscar

I've edited together the most chewable parts of the post race press conference tho tbh it's mostly just removing the parts where Max tries his best to put a slight new twist on answering the exact same questions as last weekend lgflajsg.

so at the start I love the little private smile Lando and Oscar share when Max's fanfare is going on - it gives me a little rueful but also slightly creepy twinning vestal virgins au like are we going to destroy him Lando? yes we are going to destroy him Oscar

(I AM NOT BEING SERIOUS IT'S JUST JOKES).

which is even funnier with what Max leads into about seeing these two goddamn McLarens sandwiching him and for a split second thinking ah so they want to destroy me? oh dear. like Max is very at home on that couch but the presence of these two creatures sharing covert smiles with each other has him (and probably a lot of that room) uneasily wondering if that's all y'know, normal and above board? they're not like... witches, right? haha. crazy!

and I think the cool meticulous way Lando treats his own performance is a really good example of how (in my opinion!) his self-flagellation does need to be reeled in because he's never the sort to be soaring high enough to compensate for those lowest lows. for a while I was undecided but honestly I agree with Martin Brundle, Jenson Button and Oscar who've said (in different ways and indirectly from Oscar) that Lando is far too level-headed and race smart to be hanging his own tender hide out like he does. I so appreciate how measured he was in self-approval over his back to back podiums and no one's asking him to get cocky, but I'd really love to see him match this approach to when he struggles as a driver (and not just a car issue which was the case pre Silverstone).

contrast that with Oscar discussing his own self-criticisms of the weekend but equally saying he'll still relish the maiden podium. and crucially that he can fairly put at least part of his struggles - which he was also meticulous about - down to this being his first time racing at Suzuka. an anon sent an ask about Andrea praising Oscar specifically for his performance there and you can really feel the influence Andrea has had throughout the season on Oscar. because before Silverstone, Oscar had a tendency to monotone lowness and disappointment in himself that bordered dangerously on bitterness and maybe even a fear/doubt of how his rookie season would indeed turn out? but Andrea's approach of optimism, faith in teamwork and specifically in making sure Oscar was looked after while Lando naturally performed so much better, absolutely sank in.

and it makes sense that Oscar as a rookie has so much more mental plasticity when it comes to outside influence - and says a lot about Andrea's leadership too. it's where I wish Lando could have had Andrea as principal from day one too. bc understandably, Lando has graduated to that level of knowing himself so well as a driver relative the drivers around him that there's an existing almost prejudice about himself that the people in charge of guiding him have to overcome.

literally everyone who knows and who matters has said how similar Lando and Oscar are in terms of their approach to the car and their dedication to the team. and I know Andrea has shielded Lando in his own way by saying that it's a champion's mentality to have as much passion and emotion as Lando does. but - and this is honestly such a great piece about Andrea go read it and thank you again to @mecachrome for repping him so much - he also emphasized the positivity that was so crucial to pushing the team through those awful early races. I don't at all blame Lando for getting a bit grim toward himself at times thinking not only about that first race win but also the championship. but I also really hope that between Andrea and Oscar (source: Lando himself!) he can use the lifts of his highs to not sink so low anymore.

skipping back to around the minute mark when Lando says how much more this second place means to him than Singapore because of the double podium and also because of his own performance being better. not to get too ~contentious~ but this is why I really have needed the Singapore high to wear off as fast as it did for Lando when people are discussing Lando's 2023 as a driver and not as part of a ship. absolutely still revel in it in an rpf sense! but like, real life Lando is intensely loyal to his team and y'know what else? he's intensely loyal to loyalty. which is precisely what Oscar has been proving to McLaren since signing that pre-contract the summer before. it took an entire court case for Oscar to get to McLaren and he was met with a wall of hate coming from three sides. comment sections were filled with people celebrating McLaren's 2023 initial struggles and vilifying Oscar for how much he was costing them (in every sense) for paying out Daniel. and it was the Suzuka weekend when Oscar agreed immediately to extend his contract further.

Lando had a front row seat for all of that once the season started. and considering how few races Oscar's dad and Lily were able to make due to being on the other side of the world and final year of school respectively, Oscar spent a fair amount of that time getting to grips with being in F1, and the particular pressure and stress from media and fans, largely alone in terms of a private life. so it says so much about how well he was repaid by the team and also by Lando for keeping his cool and putting in the extra hours and keeping the faith.

and around 2 mins "we have two drivers up fighting for those positions" "we can help one another and use one another". that tandem the two of them have achieved before the season is even over was largely formed when the car was fighting against them. as was the case with Carlos and then Daniel and truly every other F1 driver, Lando did NOT have to intervene or take on a specific responsibility toward Oscar. F1 drivers aren't pack animals, they move through their careers alone and are happy if they can be buddies with their partner. so to see Lando as the number one show faith in Oscar and stand up for him and receive that trust and faith in return is so unique. Lando controlled that as much as Andrea did - maybe even more considering how he says he feels Oscar is so similar to him in a lot of ways. it's not uncommon for charismatic guys like Lando, Carlos and Daniel to make friends with their team mate.

but I think the whole "Lando effect" thing has actually been a huge disservice to what Lando has put into the partnership with Oscar. in this interview early on in the season, he says how Oscar is really quiet and that it's just how most people are in their first year and "we'll change him". but as we've seen, Oscar didn't end up changing and funnily enough the hanging out he and Lando do off the track has been as private and only alluded to as the rest of Oscar's private life. Lando got a lot of Oscar on his camera (again, a lot we haven't gotten to see yet) but really there was no big transformation in terms of Oscar becoming one of the charismatic personalities of the grid. and yet he and Lando only got closer and more supportive of each other in all the ways that matter to a partnership. so I think it's a much bigger credit to Lando that he learned to understand Oscar's personality better and still found ways to establish that sense of trust and loyalty without a bromance or a bunch of common interests to act as glue.

when they do that slightly eerie, intense active listening when the other is speaking, it's them having a synchronicity that has nothing to do with how guys usually bond. (that's why my vestal virgins au yes I know it's weird)

Lando wasn't in any position of power for any of that to be relevant with Carlos or Daniel - Carlos was so far advanced already in his career and Daniel had his thing going on w McLaren that Lando had no control over (and rightly didn't respond to people demanding he show some kind of shame?? or partake in the blame). so loyalty never really played a part in his partnerships with those two, whereas (and maybe as a result of that) Lando's loyalty to McLaren as a team only grew each season. so seeing someone close to his own age but far behind in experience, work so hard and prove so early on that he wants to stay, absolutely brought out a pride from Lando for Oscar that I really hope he will also extend to himself more. major Zak Brown levels of back pats to Lando.

and side note but it needs to no longer be a question or point of contention when Lando says that Silverstone and then the double podiums are superior races for him. Lando loves his F1 buddies, absolutely. but Lando didn't burn through junior championships by favoring his buddies. he loves racing and his team more. and he sure didn't get that second place podium in Singapore because of a buddy, it was because of the position he'd put himself in. just like how Carlos would have given DRS to anyone behind him who was on older tires like he was to ensure that win. like, let's remember the manic obsession that has brought these men to where they are. buddies are a part-time thing. rpf is my meat and drink but I'll never confuse it up with that reality lol.

4:45 the Senna-Prost comparison - and I could probably get all deep about the youngest generation referring to those old bitter alpha male rivalries as something long gone (but I won't). but it's a really good call-back to Monza and the coming together because there's Oscar's ability to see his performance clearly and where it went wrong for him leading to that third place and not higher. and god, I am in no way saying that it's possible to compare Lando being in his fifth season without a race win to a rookie celebrating his first podium. I just really hope that Lando reminds himself that he's come of age in F1 in the Max Verstappen era and that in the cool down room at Qatar, Oscar giddily thanked Mercedes for clearing a path for him. that it doesn't always have to be pure perfection and pace to keep him afloat. sometimes points are points and serendipity plays her part.

"I've been drowned by Lando in champagne" god I will never be over Lando's smug toothy smile

and I will also never be over the way Lando went from clearly dreading being the "older/experienced" teammate and not knowing what to make of Oscar's quiet, reserved personality, to the intense proprietary authority of practically holding Oscar up by his collar like a prize cat in Suzuka and saying "this is mine! I helped make this what it is! look how good this is!"

all while baptizing him in champagne <3

[heycupcake]

Deranged 4am posting about Warriors of The Deep and Nightmare Country, both showing the Tardis crew literally willing to die for each other in very similar ways

I don't know much about their pre-production, other than that NC was discarded and WoTD was written in its place, but oh man, am I glad we ended up having both.

Big feelings.

We have Turlough, who in both stories manages to keep it cool in the face of peril, only as long as at least one companion is still safe. If both of his friends are in danger, he promptly loses it and goes almost homicidal in order to save them. You love to see the ruthlessness, the potential that the Black Guardian saw, put in such good use.

We have Tegan, who in both stories is willing to stay behind to straight up die in order to save her friends. Like, there's definitely some of her low self-esteem at play here, but oh how she hyperfixates on getting her companions out of danger.

Then there's Five, who always puts himself between his friends and the danger, and keeps running about the place to retrieve them from whatever kidnapping situation happened.

I love how proactive all of them are when it comes to saving each other, it shows how much they care. There also isn't a designed damsel in distress in the crew. All three need saving and do the saving in equal measure, which reflects a sometimes flatter team structure.

Also don't mind me, I'm just sitting here, thinking about Five choosing to die with Tegan rather than leaving her behind, all alone. They ended up surviving in WoTD of course, but oh boy isn't NC another story. It's exactly the kind of closure one needs after Resurrection of The Daleks tho. I'm so tired.

[mistymisfit]

So long, Marianne II

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (I'm serious, tho- in canon it's also pretty violent), angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), this series is just my excuse to write angst lol.> copied from first part but this one's more tame i think. + Fluff if you squint.

Word Count: 3k (a bit more but who cares)

Read on AO3

Part 1- Masterlist

See the end for author's notes :)

You spent hours by his side when he was unconscious, door locked from the inside just in case and extra security measures just for him. All this despite knowing you should be safe, technically-- but you still didn't trust the very people who handled your life. At one point you feel bold enough to hold his hand but it doesn't last long since you wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable if he woke up then. It was already hard enough as it was, him being mad at you and all. You stared at him, you couldn't help it since he finally looked peaceful. Your mind wandered, you couldn't believe this was the same boy who kissed you on a random rooftop overlooking the city. "Looks beautiful from up here, you can't even tell all the crime going on down there" you had said that night. He had been waiting for an opening for more nights than he'd be willing to admit. He started to bring you to rooftops and high places more often with that intention, showing you the view and to kiss you; he'd been meaning to do that for longer than that too. Your feet dangled in the air, you were both sitting on the ledge of the building and he watched you smile.

God, he thought, if I keep staring she's gonna think I'm weird. Unable to stop himself from overthinking this any longer he just went for it, the gloved hand on your cheek and his lips on yours moved so fast you didn't even have time to realize what was happening. You thought it was cute how awkward he was about it, so when he pulled after just a few seconds you giggled. Before he separated from you, you put a hand on top of the one that rested on your face and told him "Wait, do it again". Soon the kissing grew into something less than giggles and giddiness and more into needing the other like the air to breathe, and when his hands threatened to trail lower on your back you heard a cough behind you. You remembered how mortified you felt when you saw Batman himself standing behind you. Those days were way past behind you now, he wasn't the same boy as then, he had been through too much since your rooftop kissing days.

It also upset you greatly to think about how betrayed he must feel right now. First his mentor replaces him and now he finds out you've been lying to him, both things he knows thanks to the man who had been torturing him. You were mad at him too at the time, even going as far as taking it out on the new guy a couple times-- and on an eventful night on Nightwing too. You were mean to the new boy wonder, even if he tried being friendly you'd cut him off, huffing and leaving on a good day--and cussing and yelling at him on a bad one. And that night was a bad one, one of the worst, you were supposed to plant a tracker on some Russian mobster's smuggling ship. Which was going well until a few masked vigilantes decided to show up, he blew it up. He ruined your mission and the worst part was you couldn't even blame him for it because you would have done the same if you could. You didn't even take cover, you didn't have time but he pushed you to the floor and covered you with his cape to protect you from the rubble. Quickly getting up he offered you a hand when you were on the floor from the explosion and still a bit in shock but you just grunted and got up on your own. You heard him sigh behind you as you started to focus on healing the bruises and cuts scattered over your body. "You know, you could at least be polite to me, I'm not asking you to be friends", he told you finally fed up with your attitude towards him. "Fuck you" you replied shortly and heard him scoff before saying "I just saved you". He recriminated, as if you owed him anything for that. He could've just let you die and you would have been more grateful. You glared at him and announced loudly that you were leaving, he grabbed your wrist and only got to say the word hey before you interrupted him. "I could make your heart stop right now," you threatened "I should make you drop dead on your feet". "Do it, see how it ends for you, hunted down by Batman", he taunted and you replied "Let him, I should've killed him long ago".

And then Nightwing swooped in to stop the argument from turning physical, he asked-ordered-- Robin to let you go and he listened. You were almost out of earshot when you heard "Just forget it man, the suit doesn't come with the girlfriend", everything stopped. Literally, your emotions got the best of you and you stopped time. Everything froze, you don't how far but blinded by rage you walked back, took one the sticks from his back and tased Nightwing with his own weapon. Time moved again, and the older one fell to the floor. Robin just looked at you in shock, when? how did you do that? His eyes went to his brother, groaning in pain and then back to you, throwing the escrima stick back to its owner, coldly calculated to be just right out of his reach. "the suit doesn't come with the girlfriend" you mocked in a childish tone, completely contradictory to your violent actions at the moment when you pushed your boot to his neck. You thought it was a shame since you actually liked him, you thought he was more reasonable than Batman. Robin tried to stop you, to no avail since you hit him right in the neck with your elbow without looking back. It felt almost like you had eyes on your back. He coughed, getting the air inside his lungs again. And in their confusion you pulled out a gun, aimed at Robin so he had no choice but to stay back.

"Marianne, stop" You looked back at him, standing tall and menacing, the man himself calling you by your supposed real name, the name he wasn't supposed to know. You weren't scared of him, in fact you looked at him and pushed in harder, cutting his airflow like you were taught. You could feel his hands weakly trying to pull you away, somehow whatever humanity was left in you was stuffed away in the furthest corner of your mind. He shoot a batarang that landed on your leg, it hurt yet you didn't flinch as the blood pours down, you double down by pulling the safety trigger off without breaking eye contact. "You wouldn't kill them" He spoke, his voice almost like a growl mean to scare you. You scoffed and told him he didn't know shit about you, he really didn't but what you didn't expect was him stating things you had only told Jason. "You're religious and you pray for your missing sister. Do you think your God would allow this?", the shock made you loosen your grip and the man under your foot managed to free himself and gasped for air. "Honestly, God and you both can go fuck yourselves" you bit back, before taking the weapon out of your skin, finally allowing to heal your wound. You shot it back at him, right in his shoulder, the weak point. "Leave," he ordered "I'll handle her". It was quite impressive how spot on your aim was on your non dominant hand but also unexpected, you were breaking your cover. He let you land a few hits, you knew he was letting you win a bit. But soon the cussing turned into silent sobs, "I hate you" you cried, a fist weakly hitting his armor-covered chest. "How could you?" You sniffed and he patted your back in an effort to comfort you.

Eventually you fell asleep, sitting on a chair with your head resting on the bed in front of you. The first thought he has when he wakes up is how stupid it all was; that he felt so angry at you yet he couldn't help but find your sleeping face adorable. He will wake you up so you can give him some answers but right now he can indulge himself, tucking your hair behind your ear so he can see you better. Feeling your hair now soft and clean and how free of wounds you looked, he marveled at how you seemed healthy again. This wasn't the first time he watched you sleep, there was that time he was injured and he hadn't seen you all night. He thought maybe you stayed home--you did, you only left at night when you had a mission and that night you hadn't. When he got to your building and saw you in your room he waited, you were praying. He didn't know you were religious at all, he never asked either. So he sat in quiet on the emergency stairs, in pain until you finished. Out of respect for your faith, and you, he wouldn't interrupt that.

He finally knocked on your window after he saw you sitting at your desk, papers scattered all over it. You turned to were the noise came from and when you saw him, you quickly gathered everything on your desk to hide before even letting him in. "Hey, what were you doing?" He asked, holding his side where it hurt, probably a broken rib he thought. "Studying, I have a test tomorrow" you lied, helping him in and guiding him to sit on your bed. "Think I broke a rib" he grunted, lifting his hand so you could help him get his armor off. His eyes went from the bruise on his side to you as you healed him, sight fixed on your focused expression as the pain left. "Feel any better?" you gave him a smile and he just wanted to kiss you senseless right then. "Yeah, thanks" he wanted to spend more time with you, he was trying to find any excuse to stay before you handed back his clothes. "So, uhm, are your parents here?", you shook your head no saying they were out on some business trip. "How long were you at my window?", fuck he got caught, he replied "a while" in a weak and embarrassed tone.

He noticed the jewelry you wore, that you probably left at home to avoid being recognized. The earrings, the watch, and the dainty chain you had. He took the last one in his between his fingers, playing with the pendant and asking you about it. "I'm not really- my mom believed in this more than me" you explained, "but I do it to feel closer to her". He appreciated the vulnerability you were showing then, you had told him that your parents died in a car accident--lie-- and you were adopted. You never really talked about your biological parents until now. He let go of your pendant to hold your hand, you were sitting next to each other in your bed, awfully close to the point his leg was pushed to yours next to it. "I don't wanna talk about it," you started "are going to kiss me like the other night?". You were looking up at him through your lashes, giving him a look he just couldn't say no to. He knew you said that to distract him, but he would be damned if it wasn't working. Your hands worked on taking his utility belt off, and he let you take his weapons from him, he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you to let his guard down. How could he not when you were asking him so nicely to stay for a little longer? Later that night Jason ended up falling asleep with you in his arms after you did, because moving would've meant waking you up and he'd never do that, he stayed for hours like a cat owner watching their pet sleep on their lap. But still woke up to Bruce waiting for him in the alley that your window faced, ready to tell him all about how irresponsible he had been. You were wearing the same jewelry right now, as you sleep but your relationship wasn't the same as it was then. He wondered how much of what you told him that night was true.

He decides he's had enough of going down memory lane and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently but firmly shaking you so you will wake up. It doesn't take much effort since you were already on edge and too nervous when you passed out next to him. Your head quickly jerks up in an almost painful motion that wouldn't surprise him if you got whiplash.

"You're awake" you whisper, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Hm, thanks" He replies through gritted teeth and you know this is the nicest thing you'd get from him in this situation. "Where are we?"

"A safe house in Chicago, you've been out for a while" You explain, and your eyes follow him sitting up on the bed and yanking the iv off his arm. He's getting ready to leave, you thought. "Are you okay? Do you want me to get rid of that scar for you?"

"Leave it, I don't want you anywhere close to me" He swats off the hand you had close to his face. He turns his back to you, putting on the shoes you left for him. It made you feel pathetic, you've done so much for him knowing he may never forgive you. And yet you were ready to screw yourself even more to help him.

"I'm sorry, I swear I was going to tell you"

"When? You lied to me about everything," He turns to see you over his shoulder when he says that, just to look you in the eye and gauge at your reaction. He had a right to be angry, but you still couldn't help the tears that started to form in your eyes "How can I trust you? I don't even know your name"

Jason was just being mean, he knew you saved him and helped him escape. He was expressing himself with anger since it was easier to acknowledge than what he really felt, scared and sad. Anger he could manage, he could make himself out to be violent and scary. But his own fear, his own sadness and recognizing how lonely he felt finding out the person he trusted the most lied to him, that he could not manage.

"Jason-" Your tone was weak, you didn't want to speak if you knew your voice was going to break mid sentence. But you couldn't let him think those horrible things about you "most of what I told you is true"

"Like what? Bet your parents didn't even die in a car accident, and you don't even have a sister" Jason yells. He nailed it, you didn't know how they died, you just knew they were dead and for your sister... you did have one, but for her safety you shouldn't have been stupid enough to tell him.

"They are dead," You suddenly feel small, like that little girl being violently trained all over again.

"Where's the exit?" He coldly asks, standing up and ready to leave through that door. You knew if he left it'd be the last time you see him, so you had to stop him. Moving faster than him, you put your back on the door and face him.

"I'll tell you everything, just please wait" You beg, holding his gaze and trying to decipher his thoughts to no success, his expression was stone-cold. All you could get from him is knowing how furious he was.

"How much of it was a lie?" He questions again. "Did you even mean it when you said you loved me?"

"Of course I love you!" Now you were starting to get pissed off too. Was he so blind he couldn't tell that? He didn't get it from ruining your mission just to save his life? Was his head that thick that stopping the bleeding from his wound until you were over-using your powers meant nothing?

"Then leave with me" The offer takes you by surprise, and your expression softens. Your brows relax until you're not furrowing them any more, and your lips part in a gasp. What? He was so cold and now he wants you to run away with him "Help me kill him"

"I can't" You turn your face to the side to avoid his eyes, to avoid looking at him if it meant seeing him mad at you again. You were not a spy out of your free will, they had something on you. And with your power you were too much valuable of an asset to be lost. Though you couldn't tell him that, that was the one thing you were willing to keep from him. The only thing you held as dear as him in your heart, sometimes even more so than him.

"Give me a reason" He demands, hovering over you and putting an arm on the door to cage you in.

"I can't tell you" You whisper, unable to look him in the eye.

"Of course," Jason scoffs and takes a step back, he couldn't believe he was foolish enough for one second to believe that you'd say yes "you'll never change"

"You're being mean," You sniff and wipe off the tears from your face as fast as you can. Then you put your hand in one of your pockets, looking for something. You push the credit card to his chest, pushing him in the process. He lets it fall to the ground, not reacting "take it, you have about 48 hours before they notice"

You unlock the door before stepping away from it, pushing him out of your way to reach for the duffle bag on the floor. You throw it at him, now you were angry too. Your patience grew thin, you were as understanding as you could and this is how he pays you, not extending the same courtesy, being selfish. You understood he had been rotting in that Arkham wing for a year but you were there too, he didn't have the monopoly on suffering. All Jason could think about was how he felt, what was done to him, not considering for a second what was done for him. Read, you risking your own neck for him. And now you were tired of it, he wanted to leave you? Then he could be your guest.

"This is for you too, no trackers I made sure of it" He stands quiet as you open the door "Door is right this way"

You lead him to the exit of the apartment, disabling all security measures on your way. He doesn't get the sudden change of attitude, of course he liked it better when you were low energy, just apologizing to him. He knows he must've pushed a button to have irritated you this much. Whatever the reason was for you to stay on this life must clearly be important to you, at least that is what he thinks pissed you off. A reason bigger than your love for him. The love that he kept questioning, yeah he deserved to be kicked out like that. He watched you hesitate to open the front door, and he understood too that when he walked out there was no turning back. "And Jason?" He turns to see you and you whisper your name. The real name your parents gave you for the first time in years. And he remembers it, your voice repeats it over and over again in his head. Cute name, he thought. It belonged to you, not your bosses, not your agency, it was yours and about one of the very few things you owned. And he knew, you finally told him even when you shouldn't have. Even when you were specifically instructed not to do that. But it doesn't matter even if it was the last time you saw him, you wanted him to know. He had to know. Only a few minutes after he leaves you allow yourself to break down, letting the tears fall as much as they please. Because you knew you had to be over it by tomorrow, that you have to leave it behind you forever.

A/N: hi, idk when will I post part 3 but just know it's in the works 🫡🫡.

[pinkestpurple]

HOW IS THIS SEASON SADDER

1;2;3;4

So it took me a week to finish season 5 of 9-1-1. I don't understand how this season is sadder than season 4 but it was and now I'm scare to watch season 6.

I reacted as I'm watching in twitter and when i finish i compile and translate it here. If you see a comment between square brackets [] is something i added for tumblr.

If you want to get fuck up (an you aren't a minor) here is a drinking game: a sip everytime i said this season is sad and everytime i cry. I say sip an not shot, because that could be a lot of shots, anyways

Here is my reaction!

5x01 Panic

Just a chill way to star...

Is this an terutero invasion??

Ooh Animals scape from the zoo

Eddie you don't need to date Anna, no one is forcing you

The season premiere disasters are getting more creative

My god 💀💀💀 I really don't like Taylor/Buck, mom pick me up

"Te queda pintado!" I'm a sucker for Eddie talking in spanish

Eddie my love go to a therapist

Eddie is like if the concept of repression was human, i.e a latino man

Is me or Buck and Eddie have weird vibes?

Is necessary to have this conversation here guys?

I'm not the most woke friend, I hope Athena kills this man and anyone in the way

5x02 Desperate Times

Oh my god, who gave Buck a clipboard in a time like this??

"That's one word for what you are" jsjsjsj Chim never change

Why Buck hates Ravi so much ??

Eddie please you can't ALWAYS have panic attacks

Athena wanting to use the victims as bait? okay

It could be such a cool idea if she goes too far and it gets corrupted by the system but the show will always find a way to justify her

An Alpaca can be that bloddy look at that face!!

May learning from his father, and always looking for the community for help

Do I have to put up with another 3 more seasons of Eddie not knowing why he was panic attacks anytime he thinks about spending the rest of his life with a woman??

I like the duality of this episodes, Eddie having panic attacks because his girlfriend loves him to much and then is Athena against the horrors

5x03 Desperate Measures

Bobby gives zero shits, Athena kids are also his!!

What a great chracter Michael is!

The guy had such a unsatisfied death :(

Why is Buck and Eddie being weirder with each other??

Is so cringe, Eddie throwing Ana out. Oh no, my girfriend is too pretty, cool and perfect!! kill yourself, get an honest problem Eddie [idk why I'm hating Eddie so much, omg]

Eddie is a good father, but a terrible boyfriend he should stop dating

"Te quiero mucho" AAAAAh Ana, do you want a latino boyfriend? I'm here (?

I knew Maddie was going to leave them!! The first thing this characters do is run

5x04 Home and Away

I hate to see Chim so sad!!

Is terrible that they didn't show us the comversation of Albert telling Chim that he was going to be a firefighter, especialty when Chim already lost a firefighter brother

In the first season there was a rule that firefighters didn't pass the hospital doors and now there are in the hospital like is their home, i just think is funny haha

I don't understand how you can hate Chim for punching Buck in the face, I just scream LETS GO to my telivision

Angela Bassett the woman that you are!

I love May and Harry being sibilings!!

Chim and Hen 💔

Why is this season sadder than season 4??

5x05 Peer Pressure

Buck, Eddie is being weird with you since episode one

"Lucky for you I'm an excellent dancer" Eddie you aren't making easy to hate you

Chimmey being 188 heart means so much to me. They are crumbling without him

May is obsses with Claudette and the woman dosen't care

I can believe the show heard me everytime I say you should slap them [I wasn't thinking about hitting a child tho]

I am agains't hitting children but I undestand Athena

Is Buck still in therapy? Because he should

Is sweet for Taylor to help Buck, I don't hate her, she looks like a good girlfriend. Everytime I say something like this she fucks it up tho, my money is she cheats on him the next episode [I means she didn't cheat on her but she betrays him]

5x06 Brawl in Cell Block 911

I was thinking: This guy is so cheerfull to work in a prision IS THAT FUCKING LUCIFER?

Mark Pelegrino, my counsin, why are you alwasys playing psycopats?

Eddie is so pretty this episode!! Not being in a relationships helps him

Eddie and Buck being all angry as being kindnap? Hot

Mark Pelegrino loves the role of terrible father

"Family Bussinness" HE SAY IT HE SAY IT

Mitchell is a better father than Lucifer, Lucifer could never sacrificed himself for his kids [This is a lie, Lucifer literrally sacrificed himself for Jack, i completly forgot that]

Please Taylor don't make this a news, please

5x07 Ghost Stories

Athena saying that everytime she tries to get close to Harry he push her away. Athena.. this is literally like you and your mother!

Eva agains? This time they don't bother to show it

Taylor trying to be a dectetive is cool, by herself she is not a bad character

Bye Eva, don't come back

"Pot meets Kettle" Buck really cares for Taylor! He is going to be distroy when they break up

5x08 "Defend in Place"

I understand that Michael actor is a anti-vaxxer but Michel is one of my favorite characters!! 😭😭😭

Harry rigth 3 dads is a lot but having Athena as a mother is like having 3 mothers so theres need to balance

I love Michael and Athena friendship

Like a dumbass i forgot that I'm watching 911, of course something is going to explote

I am happy that this season has a lot of bangers

Buck with babies!! Eddie why are you not getting that man pregnant

Poor Claudette!! Imagine losing two kids like that!

I NOT CRYING because Eddie is sad about the kids, not at all

Bobby promising Michael that David is not going to die, I love that Bobby marry Athena and Michael

Claudette, my sister used to cry in her job a lot and she was a recepcionist in a hotel, you can cry when you are a first responder, also we are crying toghter

Michael you don't know how much i love you, and how much i am going to miss you

AND THEY MAKE A MONTAGE SO I CRY HARDER

Nobody will understand how much i love Michael, and now I'm mad at the whole 911 fandom for not telling me that maybe HE GOES AWAY THIS SEASON SO I CAN PREPARE MYSELF

I need five working days to recover

Michael is a the represention that is never to late to be who you are and that is so important to me

5x09 Past is Prologue

I need this episode to not be sad

May interrupting Bobby and Athena jsjsjsjs, my silly little show is back!

"Women flee you? Routinely" KJJJ Ravi don't be like that!

"Taylor is not Abby or Ally. It dosen't even rhyme" Thanks Hen

Bobby: You don't talk with the women you date

Eddie: How does that? *Shit eating grin* Eddie i love you

"To practice our spanish" sure Eddie, what novelas they see, the only iconic ones i can remeber are Brazilian, except la rosa de guadalupe, i don't think they watch that.

Headcanon that Eddie and Christopher watch el chabo del ocho i don't care mexicans hate it

Now that Michael is not here Athena and Bobby became partherns in crime, love it

God, Athena, this happen so long ago who cares!!

Of course Hen is not judging her mother, that could make her an hypocrite

You do think is normal to put just a awful face when you parther tells you: I love you? I did it, but i really didn't like him, Buck!

5x10 Wrapped in Red

I love Christmast Sargent Christopher, poor kid, i know this is a trauma response

Oh, Athena don't having the other two and now May is not passing Christmast with them, the nest is emptying!

I want the Appa plushie that someone donates! There's also a bluey toy there!

"You would be dead next year" 😟😟😟

If i where Eddie i probably also quit my job like rn

I love that is Bobby feeling the nest emptying

Buck gifts Taylor a superman clock and she gives him a sweater jsjsjs yeah, that's their relationship

Buck and Hen friendship 💕💕

Buck is already felling like shit for Maddie and Chim leaving, imagine now that his boyfriend is going away

5x11 Outside Looking In

My dad ask me if that was a quince, and i was like, well, theres a a gigant 15 and mariachis. I don't think a more mexican quince is posible

Eddie being a twitter cm wasn't in my bingo card

"You- you don't have to pretend with me" I'm being so normal rn

"You need to move on, i have" No the dads are divorcing again!!

Bobby loves them so much! Bobby loves every person that calls family without regrets. He is better than me, because if I'm Bucks and Hen boss and they are complaing to me about not having their friends with them los sacaria cagando [idk how traslate that expresion]

oh, blonde girl i know you

No okay, i understand Josh not liking Eddie. Girl, who do you think you are?

Josh:

I love Bobby being cagey like season 1 with new people, of course only people who knows him know how much he change

EDDIE FACES WHEN HE FINDS BUCK IN THE CROWD

And he sees Buck laughing with out him and he says he is no with them. How many seasons i have to deal with this fag??

Buckley, I am going to murder you!

"You are really brave and I can be brave too" Chris i love you, you are a sunshine of a child. Eddie please take him to the barber.

????? EDDie, you exaggerated a lot, pendejo irrespetuoso!! Apologize with Bobby RIGTH NOW

Buckley! All men

This isn't the first time you have a parther with sexual tention Buck, you can do this! (He can, i give him half of a episode) [He could, I'm impress]

5x12 Boston

OMG Maddie try to kill herself?? She didn't plan to run away?? I feel sick

Maddie thinking Chim hates her

Hi Albert! I don't like the moustache, you are also figuring out if you are gay?

Sorry i can react to much, i'm crying

This season is so much sadder than season 4

5x13 Fear-O-Phobia

What do you mean Maddie and Chim broke up!! It makes sense but !!!

The song "We're going to be friends" about spiders jsjsjs

Buck, i hope Taylor fist figth you

Eddie bawling his eyes out! I'm going to eat an entire horse

I hope the next episode is anti military! [this is a usa show i need to stop expecting things like that]

5x14 Dumb Luck

Bobby and Buck taking care of Eddie and Chris 😭

911: 🎶 Everyday is a getting closer 🎶

Me:

Chris asking his father if he is okay, this kid is collecting traumas like pokemon cards

Good god i never cross my mind that Daniel having cancer means it can be pass down

Why should i care about Lucy and the other blonde guy?

Buck drawing a little heart and Eddie judging him jsjsj. I love them

God, Athena you love making me love you and then hate you

Buck and Eddie taking Chris to a barn, literally marry

I'm crying again

5x15 FOMO

Eddie and May being besties!!

JAJSJSSJ i love the conversations in the fire truck

5x16 May Day [a good pun that gets lost in the translation]

Nooo the archives! Save the archives!

Chim brother being there is not traumatic at all

"He waited months to say that" jsjsjs i love the Josh and Eddie loathing

God Eddie's face when Buck dosen't stop talking. Buck, when are you going to fuck him?

Why don't the show understand that Cap can be seriously injuried?? HE IS AN OLD MAN

No wait, this scene is so important for Chim and Albert. Chim is finally getting the admiration he always seek and Albert is finally given permition to be whatever he wants, something that they always wanted from their father!! YES I'M CRYING

Is Jonah racists? How could have guess [I said this because i though he choose Claudette to kill but he didn't, but a the same time he was weird with Chim and Hen and not with Lucy]

5x17 Hero Complex

Why is this kid Bart Simpson??

Well, that makes sense why he is like that

"Do you belive me?" "Always" AAH BEST OF FRIENDS!

Abuela telling Eddie that his mother cook like is a tragedy jsjsjs

"I was allowed to make the tamales" "Gracias!" JSJSJS I love tia pepa and Abuela

Taylor accepting Chim and Hen in their house without saying nothing, she really loves him

EDDIE ACCENT WHEN HE IS WITH HIS FAMILY I CAN'T

Eddie standing up from his father, i love him!

The most fake "I promise" ever

"I try not to be like you" The irony of life Eddie, we don't want to be our parents, but not matter what we are always their child

POOR CHIM! One day people will stop trying to murder you because of the people you love and loves you

Bobby should have hitting him more

"You are the genius, i'm the comic relief *slurp*" JSJSJS I LOVE HIM

"I can imagine my life without you" BESTIES!! I love them

5x18 Staring Over (Volver a empezar, aunque se me acabe el tiempo, volver a empezar, you know, Alejandro Lerner)

The lider of the cult didn't last a minute

Bobby stop putting yourself in danger!! You are old! You are like my dad before retaring

Of course Bobby is getting more reckless because he feels responsible to what happen to Chim and Hen

I love Bobby

"Sorry kid" Father and Son 💕💕💕

God Bobby actually hurting himself, this thinks never go away, uh?

Karen strugulling to forgive Tori is realistic, because of course you are going to forgive your parents, but the parents of someone you love? They hurt someone important to you, that's a lot to forgive

Why i feel that the joke about hating the new place is a meta joke that i don't understand?

Chim saying is this the space to say what we thing about our relationships? because your girlfriend jsjsjsj Chims you are so funny when you hate Buck

"Isn't what we all want in a parther? Knowing that they have your back?" YOU ARE SO RIGHT RAVI, YOU KNOW HOW SAID EACH OTHER THAT THE FIRST DAY THAT THEY MET??? BUCK AND EDDIE

I understand that Taylor is someone that does things and apolgizes later but it could be cool that she apoloziges

Eddie assuring Bobby that the Jonah thing wasn't his fault, i love this family

Nia being the flower girl!! Crying

After all the things that Karen and Hen went through, they deserve this

Tori marrying them! Crying harder

Bye Taylor, she is an interesting character, could be cool to see her as a FRIEND to Buck

"Talking about it makes it less scary" God to think this inteligent, sensible and compressive kid is in the house of Eddie parents that are less affectionated than my parents, how do you allowed that Eddie?? [i'm getting so much ahead of myself]

I like the hopefull endeing, so I don't end in a depression episode. I can't belive this season is more sad than the last one! Increible

My thoughts: I'm so sad about Michael leaving, you can comprehend how much i will miss him.

I don't know why i was being such a Eddie hater in the beggining i really like his arc, about stop runing from your fellings, is a hard thing to do, as a latino raise chatolic myself i understand him, they raise you to do not to feel.

I love Tori second change to love. I didn't like that episode to much but Tori and Hen is a mother/daugether dinamic i love

I don't care to much about Lucy, it could be cool to see how she's feeling about the Jonah thing, because they where kind of close.

I love Bobby so much, and i loved him this season.

I really don't care about Buck and Taylor thing, like, i watch it, idk.

I really like the first episodes and everything to do with Jeffrey (was that his name?) and Harry, i love that the kid got to shine

An okay season, maybe the worst so far? I don't know i feel like i'm not going back to re watch this season

The best arc, or whatever is call, was Maddie and Chim. I was so sad about Chim not being in my screen (and kind of the reason this season is not that great) but him looking for Maddie, and Maddie getting better, was so cool to watch. I really hope they get together again i love them!!

Please never make Chim to leave again, i need that man, this show needs this man

Okay, that's it, this is my opinion. Here is my reaction to season 1; season 2; season 3; season 4

Okay bye

[lucaswarmhotchocolate]

harrymort but harry has a gun. please. someone tell me I'm not the only one who has thought of this. I just feel like harry would be a very good mid-range handheld pistol (I think that's what I'm thinking of idk) user. like 1. it's hilarious to imagine Dumbledore being all vague and mysterious about a Very Important and Serious Weapon that he wants harry to learn how to use, and harry getting all nervous like "omg what niche magical artefact is he talking about" only for old dumbles to pull out a western-style very ornamental gun like "don't point it at anyone and only turn off the safety when you're in mortal danger. good luck" and running off, but ALSO because 2. it's hot and 3. I'm fairly certain it's very illegal in the UK which I find hilarious

bonus point I think harry using muggle weapons is really compelling because it challenges the idea that these wizards are inherently more powerful than muggles which is important to remind their society of if they have any intention of continuing on with the statue of secrecy

It would also be interesting to explore the nature of guns as a uniquely muggle creation that is still illegal in muggle britain as a sort of parallel to Harry's own struggles. Growing up in the muggle world and not feeling like he belongs anywhere because of his abusive family that isolated him from any potential support system he could have had, but still understanding that muggles are not evil as a whole is similar to the concept of guns being illegal in his muggle country even though the weapon itself isn't actively evil or wrong (idk if I phrased that well might edit this bit later today)

Continuing on with the parallels between my weapon of choice for harry and his own history, Harry was abruptly introduced to the wizarding world and had his entire understanding of the world flipped on its head, and went to hogwarts without any real explanation with what was happening and had to pick things up as he went. This theme could be very gracefully continued by having Dumbledore once again putting harry into a dangerous position by giving him a very deadly weapon without much instruction on how to use it nor any reasoning for why he is bestowing it upon harry. NOT in a dumbles bashing way tho, but rather in a "I have no idea how to use this thing, neither does anyone else in this school, but it is probably going to be your only chance of surviving in this war when no wizard expects it. here is the most surface level safety information, it is all I know, I hope this is the right choice" kind of way.

it also ties in well with harry's guerilla fighting style; he can conceal it with minimal effort, reach it easily, and use it quickly, all without relying on physical strength but rather on quick strategic thinking and swift movements.

plus like can you imagine Harry managing to get the upper hand on Voldemort by shooting one of his legs out from under him, immobilizing him, and taunting him by getting up close and threatening to finally dish out the finishing blow, only for voldemort to bite the barrel like "shoot me, I dare you" I think that would be really cool/hot in equal measures