#beef appreciators raise your hands

[thatscribblingrat]

i like it when the big man does domestic shit

[awearywritersworld]

megumi's teacher — gojo satoru x reader

tags/warnings: fluff. fem!reader. gojo beefing with an eight year old. 700 words.

ever since megumi started the second grade, it's been (l/n)-sensei this. (l/n)-sensei that.

gojo picks up megumi's favorite ice cream, only to be scolded by the young boy. "(l/n)-sensei's favorite flavor is strawberry, so that's my favorite now!"

gojo tries to help him with his math homework, and it's "(l/n)-sensei did it this way. that means you should too!"

gojo reaches down to tie megumi's shoes for him, before his hand is promptly smacked away. "(l/n)-sensei said big boys tie their own shoes!"

honestly, gojo is starting to feel a little jealous. megumi's known you for what? two months?

he's been raising megumi for the past few years, but does that earn him an ounce of the adoration the young boy seems to have for you?

apparently not, though he perseveres nonetheless.

he and megumi are spending the afternoon out in the city and they stop at a small bakery for lunch.

while megumi is distracted looking at all the sweets behind the glass counter, the bell on the door draws gojo's attention.

his eyes fall upon a pretty young woman. actually, you might just be the prettiest woman he's ever seen.

and of course, a smirk forms on his lips when he catches you looking his way. he's puffing out his chest, running a hand through his hair.

he's always had a certain effect on the ladies, and he's never been more happy about that until this very moment—

"megumi?" you call from a few feet away. the wide smile adorning your face makes you look even more radiant.

while gojo visibly deflates, megumi's head whips around at the speed of light. "(l/n)-sensei!"

oh.

gojo very quickly comes to understand why the boy is so enamored by you.

megumi launches himself at you, while you crouch to meet him with open arms.

"i'm so happy to see you!" he practically sings, clinging to your neck.

you chuckle at his enthusiasm. "i'm happy to see you too, 'gumi."

gojo clears his throat, hoping that megumi will take the chance to introduce you two, but he is completely ignored.

"what are you going to get? i'll buy it for you," he states proudly, despite having zero money of his own.

your gaze shifts to gojo for the first time, and having your attention even just for a brief moment takes his breath away.

"that's very sweet megumi, but that's alright." you ruffle his hair when he pouts at your words, standing back up. "who's this?"

"oh that's just gojo. don't worry about him," he states with a wave of his hand.

the white haired man gawks at him in response. the nerve on that kid! he silently decides megumi will be losing dessert privileges for a week. no, two.

you stifle a giggle before offering your hand to him and introducing yourself as megumi's teacher.

he repeats your name, taking satisfaction in the way it sounds rolling off his tongue.

"that's a pretty name," he compliments, trying to recover from megumi's dismissal. "heard a lot about you. in fact, the kid never shuts up about you."

this earns him a glare from megumi, but gojo is too preoccupied with the shy look that crosses your features to notice.

gojo insists on paying for your order, a show of appreciation for taking such good care of megumi in class. you chat with the pair of them for a little while longer before eventually excusing yourself.

"thank you again, gojo-san. i'll see you on monday, megumi!"

just as you're turning on your heel, gojo calls your name and you look back at him expectantly.

"when, uh," he struggles, scratching the back of his neck. "when do i get to see you?"

nice.

"oh! well, parent-teacher conferences are only a few weeks away! i'll look forward to seeing you then," you answer sweetly, misunderstanding the meaning behind his words.

you bid them goodbye once more and they both watch your figure disappear down the street.

megumi turns to look at gojo smugly. "weeks? that sounds like a really long time—"

"shut it, kid."

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — sae itoshi: scene stealer (pt. 2) !

synopsis: in which you called itoshi sae overrated in an interview, and he responded in the language he knew best.

sae itoshi x reader ⭑ drabble / enemies to ??? + likes & reblogs are appreciated <3

note: planned to leave it the way it is but i love you all too much

you had not planned on watching the clip again. but somehow, it kept finding you. in your group chat. on your for you page. pinned to the top of every sports account like it was the moon landing.

sae itoshi. 82nd minute. goal of the season. camera cut. eye contact. one word, mouthed slow enough to be personal.

"overrated?"

it was not a celebration but rather a reply. and the internet had eaten it alive.

user1: this is better than any sports anime plotline LOLLL

user2: y/n and sae's beef is the only thing keeping me alive

user 3: enemies to lovers speedrun???

your phone wouldn't stop and you considered throwing it out of the window. your pr team advised silence, your fans were calling it legendary and his fans were calling you every name under the sun.

somehow, you didn't post nor did you respond. you just kept watching the clip.

but then the met gala happened.

you weren't supposed to be going. you'd planned to skip this year- too much press, too many cameras, not enough sleep. but your designer begged, your stylist guilt-tripped you and somehow deep down, you knew you kind of didn't want to miss it.

⭑

so you went in a dress that didn't just turn heads but rewrote the whole room.

black silk, sharp neckline, backless. you looked like the kind of woman wrote headlines about. the kind who could ruin a boy's life with just a quote in a magazine. (spoiler: you were)

and the moment you stepped onto the carpet, the noise started. flashes, cheers, shouts of your name- it was chaos, controlled and curated chaos.

and then, through the chaos, you saw him.

sae itoshi, at the bar. dressed like a problem. black suit, no tie, hair slicked back like he didn't care what it did to people.

you froze for half a second, just long enough to feel it. that stupid, cinematic pull, like gravity had picked a side.

you could've walked away. maybe you should have but then he looked at you.

and smiled.

"didn't think this was your scene," you said, stopping just close enough to keep things interesting.

he raised an eyebrow. "didn't think i was your scene."

you gave him a once-over, unimpressed. "you're not."

he let that hang in the air. "but you're still watching."

you hated how he said it. calm and certain, like he already knew he was right.

before you could fire back, someone stepped in. a reporter, mic in hand, grinning like this was the best night of her life.

"y/n! sae! can we get a quick photo? you two look so good together."

you blinked. "we're not-"

"sure," sae said. the audacity??

and then his hand was on your back, light and just enough to feel expensive like he'd done this before. you smiled for the camera. you were an actress, you could do that.

"beautiful," the reporter gushed. "and sae, if you're so overrated, what would you call her?"

it was a trap and you knew it. he knew it. and still, you turned his head just slightly and waited.

he looked into the camera, and you felt every nerve in your body tighten like wire. then he shrugged.

"hermosa."

beautiful.

⭑

that clip went viral too, faster than the first one.

you went home with sore feet, a sore back and half the internet convinced you were either going to kiss sae itoshi or kill him. maybe both?

you didn't check your messages. but at 02:03 a.m., your phone lit up with a dm.

⭑

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[kxsagi]

me thinking about how sae canonically doesnt even know rins beefing with him

which gave me this funny idea. could u write about sae not realising he had a fight with reader and continues like normal while shes get upset that hes acting so nonchalant even tho theyre 'fighting'

“𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬”

a/n: nonchalant! sae x petty! reader is everything i need

(art credits go to ciao3030 on X)

you’ve been giving sae the silent treatment all day. and not just your regular “i’m annoyed but still love you” silent treatment. this one is serious. crossed arms. eyes averted. a dramatic sigh every time he breathes too close. 

he, on the other hand? 

completely unaffected. 

no, worse – unaware. 

he sits on the couch next to you like you didn’t just tell him last night that he never listens, that he’s too cold, that he’s emotionally constipated (okay, maybe you didn’t say that part out loud, but it was heavily implied through your angry pacing). 

"you want some of this?" he asks, casually holding out a spoon of pudding in your direction. 

you glare at him. 

he blinks. “… what?” 

you turn away, arms crossing even tighter, eyes narrowed like you’re living in a telenovela. 

he stares at your back for a beat, then shrugs. "more for me, then." 

the audacity. 

this man is supposed to be groveling. begging. kissing the ground you walk on. not spooning mouthfuls of convenience store custard into his mouth like he didn’t emotionally betray you by forgetting your half-anniversary-slash-date-night-slash-unspoken-love-language-appreciation-day. 

"i can't believe you," you mutter under your breath, barely loud enough for him to hear. 

but he does. 

he glances at you. “what’d i do now?” 

you whip around. “now?!” 

he pauses mid-bite. “… was there a ‘then’?” 

“we’re literally fighting, sae!” 

he furrows his brow like you just told him the sky is green. “… since when?” 

“since yesterday! you forgot our date, and you didn’t even apologize!” 

sae stares at you. blank. processing. buffering. 

"oh. that was yesterday?" 

you blink. “yes.” 

“ah.” he pauses, then says, “well, we’re home now, aren’t we? so technically, we still spent the night together.” 

you gape. “sae.” 

“what?” 

“you’re the worst,” you snap, scooting away from him on the couch. 

he watches your dramatic shuffle, unimpressed. then leans over and places the pudding on your side table like it’s a peace offering. 

“okay,” he says, “you’re mad. got it. do you still want the pudding?” 

you hesitate. it’s your favorite flavor. the betrayal in your heart says no. but the traitor in your stomach says yes. 

he raises an eyebrow like he knows he’s won. “that’s what i thought.” 

“… i’m still mad at you.” 

“sure,” he says, lounging back and scrolling through his phone, one hand lazily reaching over to rest on your thigh. “just be mad over here where it’s warm.” 

and somehow, against all logic and reason, you let him. 

(but you take the pudding too, for moral balance.) 

BONUS 𐙚

the next morning, you wake up wrapped in sae’s arms like last night’s fight never happened. which is extra annoying because you were supposed to be mad. like deeply, emotionally, mad. 

but instead, you’re spooned. 

like a loser. 

and worse, he’s still asleep. all peaceful and warm and exhaling into your neck like he didn’t sleep through a relationship emergency. 

you scoot out of bed dramatically. like you’re in a movie. loud shuffle, purposeful sigh, maybe a sniffle for extra flair. 

he doesn’t even flinch. 

so fine. if he still won’t acknowledge the fight, then you’ll get your revenge the only way you know how: petty girlfriend tactics. 

you spend the morning being just slightly annoying. 

leave the toothpaste cap off. 

move the remote and pretend you don’t know where it went. 

turn the AC one degree colder so he gets the chills while showering. 

say “nothing” when he asks if you’re okay and sigh like you’ve been wronged by the universe. 

he endures it all. unbothered. a little amused, even. 

but when you give him decaf coffee by mistake-on-purpose, he pauses mid-sip, squints at the mug, then squints at you. 

“this isn’t my usual.” 

you look at him with your sweetest, most innocent smile. “oh? i must’ve mixed them up.” 

he sets the mug down. “you’re sabotaging me.” 

“me?” you gasp, fake offended. “why would i do that to my loving, caring, totally apologetic boyfriend?” 

he stares. and finally, finally, lets out a tiny sigh of defeat. 

“… okay. sorry.” 

you blink. “… what?” 

he runs a hand through his hair like this is physically painful. “i forgot our date. i should’ve apologized yesterday. i didn’t realize you were that upset.” 

you raise an eyebrow. “that upset?” 

“that you’d feed me decaf,” he clarifies, unamused. 

you try not to smile. “and?” 

“and i’ll make it up to you,” he mutters, already regretting it. 

you hum. “hm, i’ll consider forgiving you if you take me out. somewhere fancy. with dessert.” 

sae side-eyes you. “you just wanted pudding yesterday.” 

“that was yesterday. today i want cake.” 

he leans back on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, clearly weighing how much he likes you vs. how much he hates spending money on overpriced food. 

eventually, he nods. 

“fine. i’ll take you. just stop acting like a disney villain.” 

you smirk. “no promises.” 

he rolls his eyes, but when he turns around, he’s already pulling out his wallet. 

because even if he doesn’t always get you, he gets that you’re worth the effort. 

even if it comes with mood swings and decaf betrayal. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[prlssprfctn]

I love this specific flavour (semi-canon, mind you) of Bruce Wayne being awfully jealous and petty, if his kids have other parental figures that they like, or just in general prefers someone's company over him. At least, amongst people of his age range.

Thus, I raise you a very specific concept: Bruce one-sidedly beefing with Roman Sionis, because he is the first person Jason wants to annoy, when he is in the good mood. Yeah, you heard it right.

Because let's be honest, Jason doesn't give two fucks about Black Mask, he doesn't consider him to be valuable and intimidating, but he is funny to toy with! You need anti-stress? Stomp on remainings of Roman's dignity! You are in good mood and want to celebrate something? Crash Roman's party. Dunno. Where Bruce lands in this scenario? Let me demonstrate.

Bruce: Okay, I came to peace with a realisation that I am not the adult that Jason goes to get advice from any more. It is fine. But I don't give up! At least, I am his first annoy-the-hell-out-of-it contact. Knowing Jason, it is as valuable as anything else. Dick, sceptical: What is annoy-the-hell-out-of-it contact? Bruce: Like, when he wants to ruin someone's mood, he chooses me first. Tim, not getting distracted from his phone: Uh, no, you are not. It is Black Mask. Bruce: What? Tim: Yeah, everyone knows it. Like, come on. Check the statistics. Bruce: ...

So that is where his rivalry with Roman starts. A one that Roman himself doesn't have an idea about. But that is aside the point.

Bruce: So, Jaylad... You have a good mood. Something had happened? Jason: Oh, lmao, well, I woke up in the bad mood this morning, so I ended up pretending to be one of Roman's goons, had some fun playing cards with these imbeciles, then "accidentally" spilled tea on Roman's new suit when he ordered me to bring it to him, and at the same time his right-hand came exactly at that moment to announce that Red Hood exploded his favourite warehouse. The best morning ever. Bruce, with his eye twitching: You could come to me instead, you know? Jason: Huh? Why would I? Bruce: *silent scream*

Black Mask, calling urgently at three in the morning: Had you set on the Bat on me? Why he is so obsessed with me recently? Jason, half-asleep on his day off: Man, what? I am confused. Black Mask: You are confused??? I am fucking confused. Why is he hunting me down??? Jason: Bro. I don't give a fuck. I didn't set anyone on, let alone that old man. Deal with your shit yourself. Jason: *hangs on*

Tim, later that week: Am I getting this right, you just threw Roman in the jail, so Jason could annoy you first and not him? Bruce, dusting his hands off: Roman is a deeply unsettling, troubling man, who deserves to rot in prison for things much worse than- Tim: Bruce. Don't bullshit me. Bruce: Fine. Yes. What is the problem? Damian, spawning behind them randomly: There is no problem, except for the fact that you failed to check your data. You are not Todd's second favourite object for bullying. It is grandfather. Bruce: What- Damian: That being said, mother called and asked you to do something. Todd is back at League, trying to fasten Ra's cardiac arrest. She would appreciate some assistance. Bruce, on his last strength: This can't be real. Tim, patting on his back: You will get there... some day. Bruce, exhaling: I am fine. Bruce: Tim: Damian: Bruce, a minute later: RA'S AL GHUL????????????????????????????????????????????????????

[deadsetobsessions]

Gotham rained a lot more than Amity ever did.

Danny could not help but appreciate the differences. From the way the city itself curled around her inhabitants to the weather, Gotham was far darker than Amity ever managed to be.

Still, there were similarities. The screams, for one. In Amity, it was ghosts, their victims, and whichever ghostbuster of the day rocking up to rock each other’s shit. Another similarity? Danny’s inability to not get himself into troublesome shit, because he could never ignore a cry for help.

That scream was a cry for help if he’s ever heard one.

Danny cursed himself as he slipped through the alleyways, strides becoming smoother and agile than he normally walked like. He stuck to the shadows, the prickling of ghostly senses and honed vigilante instincts guiding him towards the scream. It was a man, getting stabbed by a guy in a red helmet.

Danny maintained that he was new here.

Which is why his foot connected solidly with Red Helmet's... red helmet.

"Motherfuc-" Red Helmet shouted as he was punted several feet away.

"Holy shit dude, are you good?"

Danny helped the guy up.

"Thank fuck! Back up! What took you so long?! Boss is gunna be so pissed if we're late!"

Hold up. Boss?

"Boss?"

“Black Mask, asshole! We gotta go before he decides to cut off our limbs!”

Danny yanked the guy to the side just as a bullet ricocheted off the rusted fire escape.

“Ope!”

“You’re not going anywhere.” A mechanical voice growled behind them.

“Oh fuck, Red Helmet guy.” Danny muttered.

“Shit, ya gotta run, tell boss I got caught.” The injured goon- because it was now apparent to Danny that the guy was working for someone dangerous- said. Danny appreciated the thought, but he only intervened because the guy was getting stabbed.

“Uh,” Danny hesitated. Clearly the guy had the wrong idea.

“Don’t make a move, unless you want your fucking heads blown off,” Red Helmet guy- wait, why does he feel liminal?- raised his guns. “Why don-”

Red Helmet guy was cut off by the thud of the now unconscious goon.

His helmet tilted down and then back up at Danny.

“Guess it’s just you and me,” Helmet guy sneered out. “Better tell me everything you know about Black Mask, or else you’ll get a taste of what he had.”

Danny held up his hands even though he knew he could just let the bullets phase through him. The smart thing would be to absolve himself and not get in the middle of two criminal’s beef as a civilian.

Danny’s full name, however, could have been Danny ‘Dumb Decisions’ Fenton. So, Danny practically interjected himself like an overexcited puppy at a doggy daycare.

“Okay, no need to get bloody. But uh, I have a question.”

Red Helmet cocked his head and mockingly gestured with his gun. “Sure, why not.”

Danny let as much of his midwestern accent into his voice as possible. “Who’s, uh, Black Mask?”

Red Helmet paused. Then he sighed. “You’re not from here, are you?”

“No…? I’m, uh, new in town.”

Red Helmet lowered his guns, and for some reason, Danny could tell that he was exasperated.

“Why would you even get in between a fight, dumbass? I have a gun! I coulda killed ya! He’s a criminal’”

Danny protested. Rude! “In my defense, you were stabbing him! You’re a criminal too, you know!”

“That makes it worse! You-!” Red Helmet paused. “Wait, do you even know who I am?”

Danny let his gaze wander down to the red bat-shaped logo on the guy’s chest. “Uh… Red Helmet… bat-guy?” He hazarded a guess.

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”

Danny gaped. “Excuse me?!”

“You heard me,” Red Helmet put his gun back and planted his fists on his hips. “You’re an idiot. Who gets in between a vigilante and the goon of a crime lord.”

Danny crossed his arms, leveling an unimpressed look at Red Helmet. “I’ve never heard of a vigilante killing someone, Red Helmet Bat-Guy.”

“It’s Red Hood.” Red Helmet sighed, walking closer. “And I wasn’t going to kill him.” Danny scoffed.

Danny relaxed, sensing the truth coming from Red Helmet guy’s liminal aspects.

“He’ll die looking at your ugly mug,” Danny sassed. “You’re gonna get him to a hospital, right? I’ll go with you.”

“Are you midwesterners all this trusting? What if I was the goon and this guy was the vigilante?”

Red Hood hiked the goon over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Danny followed after him.

“He’s the one that told me to go running back to his boss, Red Helmet.”

“It’s Red Hood.”

“That doesn’t look like a hood.”

Danny grinned as Red Helmet grumbled. How interesting! Maybe he won’t miss Amity as much as he thought he would!

“Ugh, fine, I guess someone’s gotta watch your dumb ass so you don’t get mugged.”

“I can take care of myself!”

Hood grunted. “I guess that kick wasn’t half bad.”

Danny beamed at him. “Thanks!”

——

Danny chucked a chimichanga at Red Hood.

“Wait a minute, you’re a crime lord! Being a goon was way less illegal than being a vigilante crime lord!”

Red Hood cackled at him.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Sirius Black x reader on their period who doesn’t want to eat (food discussed) and feels a bit teary and sad (not depression, just sadness)

“Siri, I really need a back massage.” You groan as you emerge from the shower with a hand to your lower back even through your towel.

Sirius perks up from his spot on the bed, his magazine dropped immediately. He stretches across to his bedside and rummages around until he finds what he needs.

“Come lay down, sweetness.” He pats the expanse of the mattress, a suggestive smile on his lips making you giggle.

“It’s ’cos of my period,” you mumble, shedding your towel to reveal you’re already in your underwear.

Sirius shrugs, stealing a kiss before you lay down. “I’m always going to want to touch you, doll. Doesn’t affect my appreciation of you if you’re bleeding out.”

You laugh like Sirius had intended, his palms a little cold as his fingers trail your back to get a good feel for all the knots.

You smell the oil before it touches your skin. Warm vanilla and a hint of something woody that you like.

Sirius kneads and massages at your back like he was made to do it, his touches firm and targeted to the spots that ache.

He revels in the fact that goosebumps erupt on your back as he continues in his massage, a stray kiss placed here and there.

By the time he’s finished you’re limp like a wet noodle, boneless and practically liquid where you lay.

“Better?” The smugness in Sirius’ voice is unmissable as he combs back a few strands of your hair from your face.

“So much,” you murmur, raising your head to meet his touch.

“Think you can eat something yet?” You groan, turning your head away from Sirius in such a petulant manner that he has to chuckle.

“You have to eat something other than animal crackers, poppet. I can make or get you whatever you like.”

You whine, “I don’t feel like anything Siri. Please don’t make me eat.”

Tears gather on your waterline as you think about eating anything that isn’t salted and thin.

“No tears, baby.” Sirius coos, dragging his thumb across your cheek to catch the tear before it can fall properly. “I could get you spring rolls from the Chinese place you like.”

You look up at him, “And that’s all I’d have to eat?” At his silence you frown.

He murmurs, “You really should have some red meat, get your iron back up.”

You turn away from him. Sirius bites back a smile, he likes you like this- picky and petulant because it means he gets to make you feel better and he loves that too.

“Can’t I just survive off the fruit you got me? And maybe two spring rolls?”

Your words are eaten up by the sheets but Sirius understands you fine. “And a few bites of my beef and broccoli.”

You mull over his offer, knowing that if Sirius wanted he could order you your own beef and broccoli and that somehow sounds worse. “Fine.”

He beams, kissing your temple and cheek as he slips out of bed and places an order to your place. “I’ll go get the fruit, poppet. Choose something to watch yeah?”

“Yeah, love you Siri.”

Sirius laughs, fond and full of love. “I love you too, trouble.”

[loulou-land]

Some fluffy bucktommy 🫶🏻

Some positive and fluffy bucktommy to fight the nasty anons. Once again, thanks @fuselsstuff for helping me fine tune this and cheering me on ❤️✨ Lol also, this was supposed to be so much shorter 😭

“Evan, sweetheart, what are you doing?’’ Tommy finally asked, his voice both sounding exasperated and amused. The words broke the tranquil quiet that had settled over the room for the past 40 minutes, save for the occasional contented hum from Evan.

“Hmm?” Evan replied distractedly, as his hand slid over Tommy’s chest, pausing to gently squeeze one of his pecs. He sighed blissfully, then moved his hand to the other side, giving it the same reverent attention.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, his confusion mounting. “Are you…going somewhere with this?” He tried not to sound impatient, but come on—Evan had been sticking to his side, leaning on one elbow, trailing his hands across Tommy’s chest and stomach as if he were trying to memorize every inch of him through his hands alone.

Tommy, hadn’t minded, at least not at first. He loved the way Evan touched him—always so deliberate and sure, like he couldn't believe Tommy was real and couldn't get enough of him. When he’d started touching Tommy earlier this afternoon, the attention had sent heat pooling low in his stomach. His cock slowly plumping up as Evan’s sure hands squeezed, rubbed and massaged him. He’d tried to tug Evan closer, deepen the kisses they’d shared, only for Evan to pull away after a couple of seconds and bat his hands away with a pout and softly murmured, “Stop moving.”

And Tommy, the completely smitten fool that he was, had stilled, letting Evan do as he pleased. But now? Almost 50 minutes in, Tommy felt like he was going to crawl out of his own skin if Evan didn't give him some relief. He had thought Evan had been edging him, but the longer this went on, the more bewildered he became. Evans' attention hadn’t seemed sexual.

Especially now, with Evan’s hands framing his stomach. The younger man gave an almost dreamy sigh, one of his palms moving to splay wide over Tommy’s skin as he murmured something so impossibly soft to hear.

“Evan,” Tommy prompted again, trying and failing to hold back a laugh. “Seriously, baby, what are you doing?”

Evan finally looked up at him, his blue eyes warm and sparkling mischievously. “I am appreciating you,” he stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Appreciating me?” Tommy echoed dubiously, huffing out a laugh. “Like prime beef? Should I be concerned?” Tommy asked, running his hands through Evan’s curls.

Evan laughed, the sound always warming Tommy and filling him with an insurmountable amount of love. “No,” briefly running his fingers up his sides, making him squirm. Tommy gave Evan a don't you dare look.

“Trust me, I'd love to eat you—just not like that,” Evan winked at him, and instead of tickling Tommy like he’d feared. He just went back to stroking his chest again, almost lingering like he was trying to commit the shape of him to memory. “Do you know how lucky I am to have you?”

Tommy scoffed in disbelief. He’d always known he was the lucky one here. “Ev—”

“No, I'm serious,” Evan said, lifting himself up higher so he could look Tommy in the eyes. “Just look at you. You're…perfect. So sexy and just…” Evan’s voice trails off, seemingly overwhelmed.

Tommy blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity and intensity in Evan’s tone.

“I mean it,” Evan said, his voice softening. “You’re so solid and warm, and I love how you feel under my hands. It’s like…” He trailed off, his gaze far away for a moment before he grinned sheepishly at him. “It's like your favorite blanket, the one you would always use when you were a kid. Y’know?” Evan shrugged, before looking away again, his cheeks flushing red. “Safe. Comfortable. The best place to be.”

Tommy stared at him, his heart doing a funny little flip in his chest. “So I'm a blanket now?” he teased, though he somehow perfectly understood what Evan meant.

“Toooommy,” Evan whined, feeling embarrassed he hid from him, laying his head on Tommy’s stomach.

“Sorry, you're just so adorable,” Tommy said warmly, looking down at the ridiculously endearing sight of his boyfriend rubbing his head on his stomach like a cat, murmuring something that sounded suspiciously like, mine.

“So, are you going to be done soon?” Tommy asked, trying to get back to the issue at hand, his cock still begging for some attention, though his heart was feeling incredibly warm and full at the moment. “You know, appreciating me?.

“Never,” Evan grumbled. “I'm gonna appreciate you forever if i have any say in it” he looked up at Tommy, daring him to disagree with him.

Tommy shook his head, he’d gladly let Evan win this one. His heart raced at the thought of forever. Of more afternoons like these, feeling safe, warm and happy in each other's arms.

“I love you,” Tommy said, his voice full of meaning as he gazed down at Evan, his hand stroking gently though his curls again.

Evan stilled for a moment, breath hitching like it always did when Tommy told him he loved him, like he still couldn't believe it—before a wide smile bloomed on his face. “I love you too,” Evan whispered. He leaned up and kissed Tommy, slow and sweet, as if pouring every ounce of that love into his kiss.

Tommy’s chest ached in the best way as he pulled Evan closer, wrapping his arms around him.

Their love settled around them, filling every crevice of the room, an unshakeable, unmovable force.

[yassbishimvintage]

Shut it Down

Warnings: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

MDNI!

A/N: Merry Christmas y'all.

The sun was shining down in Imani’s face. She had to tear herself away from Terry this morning. Her sister Maya wanted to have breakfast with her to check in. “So now that he’s home how is he?” She asks. Imani sighs. She had to be careful of how she answered the next question. Even though Terry loved her family like his own, he still didn’t want to show weakness. 

Imani sipped her coffee as her sister, Maya, watched her curiously from across the diner booth. They had always been close, and Maya could read her like a book. Setting her mug down, Imani took a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"He’s... adjusting," Imani replied softly. "It’s been tough for him. Losing Mike, the stress of everything back in Shelby Springs... it’s a lot to process."

Maya nodded, her brow furrowing with concern. "That man has been through hell and back, hasn’t he?" she said. "But what about you? You okay? I know you’re strong, but you can’t pour from an empty cup, sis."

Imani smiled faintly at her sister's words. "I’m okay," she said, though the truth was more complicated. "I just want to be there for him, you know? He’s carrying so much, and I can see it weighing on him. Some days he’s better, but others... it’s like he’s still fighting a battle, just in his head now."

Maya reached across the table and placed her hand over Imani’s. "You’re doing more than enough, Imani. He’s lucky to have you. But make sure he knows it’s okay to lean on you, really lean on you. Sometimes men like him think they have to bear it all alone."

Imani nodded. "I try to remind him of that every day," she said. "Last night, he... he let me in a little more. It’s progress, I guess. I just want him to see that he’s not alone anymore."

Maya leaned back, studying her sister. "You love him, don’t you?"

"With everything in me," Imani said without hesitation.

Maya smiled. "Then he’s got a fighting chance. But don’t forget—taking care of yourself is part of taking care of him. Don’t lose sight of that."

Imani gave her sister a grateful look, appreciating the reminder. "I won’t," she promised. "Thanks, Maya."

"Anytime," Maya said with a wink. "Now, tell me more about this roast beef dinner you made last night. I’m starting to think you’re spoiling that man."

Imani chuckled. "I might be. But he deserves it."

They spent the rest of breakfast laughing and catching up, Imani feeling lighter after the conversation. She had her sister's support, and that meant everything.She smirks. “Now. How’s the sex?” She asks. Imani nearly choked on her coffee, her eyes widening as she looked at Maya. "Really? That’s what you’re asking me right now?" she said, trying to keep her voice down.

Maya raised an eyebrow, unbothered by Imani’s reaction. "Of course, I’m asking. You’ve been glowing lately, so either it’s the sex, or you’ve found a new skincare routine, and I know you too well to believe the latter."

Imani rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile from tugging at her lips. "It’s… amazing, as always," she admitted, her voice dropping slightly. "He’s just... so attentive. Like, he takes his time, you know? Makes sure I’m good before anything else."

Maya leaned in, her interest clearly piqued. "Girl, go on. Don’t leave me hanging."

Imani laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s just say he knows exactly what I need, even when I don’t say it. And he’s so... gentle with me, but not too gentle, if you know what I mean."

Maya grinned mischievously. "Oh, I know what you mean. Big, strong, marine boyfriend who’s soft for you but can turn it up when needed? Imani, you’re living the dream."

Imani blushed but couldn’t help laughing. "Okay, enough about my sex life. How’s yours?"

Maya waved her hand dismissively. "Nonexistent at the moment, but that’s fine. I’m focused on me right now. But seriously, I’m happy for you. It sounds like Terry really sees you and loves you the way you deserve."

Imani nodded, her expression softening. "He does. And I don’t take that for granted, not for a second."

Maya raised her coffee mug in a toast. "To men who love us right and know how to handle business."

Imani laughed, clinking her mug against her sister’s. "I’ll drink to that.” Maya turns her head to glance out the window. She sees a black GMC Dua..ley pull into the parking lot. “Who’s that?” she asks. 

Imani turned to look where Maya was pointing and spotted the large GMC Dually parked a few spaces away. The truck was pristine, its black paint gleaming under the morning sun, with chrome accents that looked freshly polished. It stood out among the sedans and SUVs in the lot.

Imani raised an eyebrow, recognizing it immediately. "That’s Terry’s truck."

Maya’s eyes widened as she leaned closer to the window. "Wait, he followed you here? What is he, your bodyguard now?"

Imani couldn’t help but chuckle. "No, he probably just wanted to check in on me. You know how he is."

Maya smirked. "Yeah, overprotective and a little territorial. But honestly, can you blame him? Look at you."

Imani rolled her eyes but smiled, gathering her things. "Come on, let’s go say hi before he thinks I’m avoiding him."

As they stepped outside, Terry climbed out of the truck, his towering frame and confident stride impossible to miss. He wore a simple fitted T-shirt and jeans, but the way he carried himself made him look effortlessly commanding.

"Hey, babe," Imani called, walking up to him. "What are you doing here?"

Terry flashed her a small smile, his eyes softening when they met hers. "Just wanted to see you. Figured you might want to grab lunch after you’re done with your sister."

Maya crossed her arms, looking between them with a teasing grin. "You’re setting the bar way too high for the rest of us, Terry. Showing up unannounced just to take her to lunch?"

Terry shrugged, his smile turning a bit sheepish. "What can I say? I like spending time with her."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her amusement. "Well, since you’re here, why don’t you come sit with us for a bit?"

Terry glanced at Maya, who raised her hands in mock surrender. "Don’t worry, big guy. I’ll keep the embarrassing sister stories to a minimum."

He chuckled, holding the door open for both women. "Appreciate that."

Maya smirks and quickly asks him. “So tell me Mr Marine. What kind of sex spell you got on my little sister.” She says

Terry paused mid-step, his brow arching as a slow smirk spread across his face. "Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with amusement. He glanced at Imani, who was already groaning in embarrassment, her hand covering her face.

"Maya!" Imani hissed, shooting her sister a glare.

"What?" Maya said innocently, shrugging as she took her seat. "I’m just saying. She’s been glowing since y’all got together, and I’m convinced it’s not just the happy weight."

Terry chuckled, taking the chair beside Imani and resting an arm casually on the back of her seat. His eyes flicked to Maya with a mischievous gleam. "Let’s just say I aim to please," he said smoothly, his tone playful but carrying enough weight to make Maya blink in surprise.

Imani gasped, turning to him. "Terry!"

He laughed, leaning over to kiss her temple. "What? She asked."

Maya burst out laughing, clapping her hands. "Alright, I see you, Marine. No wonder she’s hooked."

Imani shook her head, trying to hide her smile. "You’re impossible, both of you."

Maya grinned, picking up her coffee. "Hey, I’m just trying to figure out why you’re so happy all the time. If it’s because of him, then props to you, Terry. You’re doing something right."

Terry shrugged, his expression softening as he looked at Imani. "She deserves to be happy. That’s all that matters to me."

Maya tilted her head, a rare seriousness settling in her tone. "Well, as long as you keep that mindset, we’re good. I’m just looking out for my baby sister."

Terry nodded, his voice steady. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

Imani glanced between the two, her heart full as she reached for Terry’s hand under the table, giving it a squeeze.

When she gets in his truck she rests her head on the glass. Everytime he drives his hand rests on her thigh.

As Terry drove, the hum of the engine and the subtle rhythm of the tires on the pavement filled the quiet between them. Imani leaned her head against the cool window, her thoughts wandering as the scenery blurred past. The warmth of Terry’s hand resting on her thigh was a steadying comfort, grounding her in the moment.

It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about their bond. His thumb moved in absentminded circles, a habit he had whenever his hand found its home there. She glanced down at it and smiled softly, her fingers drifting to rest lightly over his.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, his deep voice breaking the silence.

She turned her head slightly to look at him, the way his strong hands gripped the wheel and how his eyes flicked between her and the road. "I’m okay," she replied, her voice gentle. "Just thinking."

Terry gave her thigh a small squeeze, his way of saying he was there for her without needing words. "About what?"

"About how much I love this," she said softly, her eyes meeting his for a brief second before returning to the passing view outside.

"This?" he asked, his brow arching slightly.

"This," she repeated, covering his hand with hers. "The little things. You driving us, your hand here...it’s just us. I love it."

Terry smiled, his expression softening as he gave her thigh another squeeze. "I love it too," he said simply.

And with that, they fell back into a comfortable silence, letting the unspoken connection between them speak louder than words ever could.

He pulls over. She lifts her head up confused. Terry eased the truck onto the shoulder of the quiet road, the hum of the engine settling into a low idle. He turned to her, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "Let’s play 'wandering hand,'" he said, his voice deep and teasing, the hint of mischief in his eyes unmistakable.

Imani couldn't help but roll her eyes, though a soft laugh escaped her. "Terry," she said, her tone half-amused, half-scolding.

"What?" he replied, feigning innocence as his free hand left the steering wheel and settled on her knee. "You know the rules."

His fingers began their slow, deliberate journey, trailing up her thigh in featherlight strokes that sent a shiver through her. Imani pressed her lips together, trying to maintain composure, but the way his touch lingered just enough to tease made her heart race.

"You’re impossible," she muttered, though there was no real annoyance in her voice.

"And you love it," he shot back, his grin widening as his hand slipped just beneath the hem of her skirt.

Imani reached out, placing her hand over his to halt his progress, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her resolve. "You’re going to get us caught, Terry."

"We’re parked," he said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur that sent heat spiraling through her. "And it’s not like anyone’s around."

She bit her lip, trying to resist the pull of his charm, but when his lips brushed against her neck and his hand resumed its exploration, resistance became futile. "You’re lucky I love you," she whispered, her voice shaky as she gave in to the moment.

His soft chuckle against her skin was his only reply as the game of "wandering hand" took on a life of its own, the world outside the truck fading into the background.

Terry’s hand paused at the waistband of her panties, his fingers teasingly slipping just beneath the fabric. His breath was warm against her ear as he murmured, “You gonna let me keep going, baby?”

Imani’s breath hitched, her body responding before her mind could form words. She glanced at him, her gaze caught in the intensity of his eyes. “Terry...” she began, her voice soft, laced with a mix of hesitation and desire.

His thumb stroked the delicate skin of her hip, his lips brushing against the corner of her mouth. “Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he said, his voice calm but thick with want. “But if you want me to keep going... I need to hear you say it.”

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest as she let out a shaky exhale. The heat of his hand, the gentle yet deliberate pressure of his touch, sent sparks skittering through her. “Don’t stop,” she whispered, her words barely audible, but they carried all the permission he needed.

Terry leaned in, capturing her lips with his as his hand slid lower, exploring her with the same care and attention that always left her breathless. The world outside the truck was forgotten entirely as they lost themselves in each other, the quiet intimacy between them deepening with every touch and kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, both breathless and tangled in the charged energy of the moment, Terry rested his forehead against hers. “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he whispered, his voice low and full of emotion.

Imani smiled, her cheeks flushed. “Right back at you,” she replied softly, her hands resting on his shoulders as the truck’s engine purred quietly in the background.

“Now I’m turned on and we’re no where near home.” She says. 

Terry smirked, his eyes darkening with mischief. “Who said we need to be home for me to take care of you?” he teased, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Imani raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, so you’re bold now, huh?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer so his lips brushed against her ear. “I’ve always been bold, baby. You just bring it out of me.”

Her cheeks flushed as she swatted at his chest. “Terry, you’re impossible.”

He grinned, his hand still resting possessively on her thigh. “Only for you.”

His hand moved up her thigh as they drove down the road. His thumb doing lazy circles on her exposed skin.

As Terry’s hand moved higher up her thigh, Imani let out a soft breath, feeling the warmth of his touch spread through her. She glanced over at him, catching the glint of mischief in his eyes as his thumb traced slow, deliberate circles. Her heart raced a little, the anticipation of their playful energy making her pulse quicken.

That’s when she couldn’t take it anymore. Not the first time and won’t be the last time they had car sex. In her head she thanks him for the dark tint on the windows. Imani maneuvers herself over the console. She straddles him. “You know I hate car sex.” She says.

Terry chuckles softly, his hands resting on her hips as she straddles him. “You always say that, but then you seem to enjoy it once we get started.” He smirks, his lips brushing against her ear as he speaks.

Imani laughs quietly, leaning in closer. “It’s the lack of space. I like to take my time,” she responds, her hands sliding up his chest as she finds comfort in the familiar closeness of his body.

He presses his forehead to hers, his voice turning playful but with a touch of sincerity. “If you don’t like it, we can always find somewhere else next time.”

She smiles, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Next time,” she repeats softly, her fingers trailing down his chest, slowly teasing. “But for now...” she leans in, kissing him deeply as her body melts into his.

Terry, ever responsive to her, deepens the kiss, his hands moving to the small of her back to pull her even closer. As the moment lingers, they forget about the cramped space, lost in the connection they share.

“Now. Let me hear you moan for me real fast.” He says. She moans as his hands reach their destination. One thing that always made sure that made him on rock hard was her moans. In the next breath, “Now. Tell me you love me.” He says.

-

As they arrived at their destination, Imani instinctively reached for Terry's hand, intertwining her fingers with his. She gave it a gentle squeeze, glancing up at him with a soft smile.

“You ready?” she asked, her voice filled with warmth and reassurance.

Terry nodded, his grip on her hand firm yet tender. “As long as you’re with me, I’m ready for anything,” he replied, his tone carrying the weight of his sincerity.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayaesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @haechvn @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @kimuzostar @notpradagurl7 @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ a/n: i pretty much wrote this bcs of boredom, then put on queaue, then i wanted to rewrite it lmao. so i'm just posting it now ~

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: well, cannibalism????? gn!reader as always

"How does it taste?"

You asked, watching the blood staining his lips. Like a river, the red, metallic liquid trickled down the sides of his mouth with each bite of raw flesh that Jade savored so passionately. Hungry like a predator, his eyes carried a promise of death for anyone who dared to interrupt him at that hour when he suddenly turned.

You, however, were used to receiving that look and didn’t mind it.

On the ground before you lay dozens of enemy bodies. The foul stench of death spread in intense waves. You wouldn’t be able to describe it if someone asked, but it was horrendous. And yet, Jade found pleasure in devouring that flesh and blood. You wondered what it tasted like. Would it be similar to beef, pork, or chicken? Or something entirely different?

He smiled, bits of flesh stuck in his teeth as he adjusted his suit and walked toward you. Blood dripped from his sharp, grinning teeth. His eyes sparkled with a wild gleam as he savored every bite.

"Raw flesh has a peculiar taste, an indulgence that few understand," he mused, running his tongue across his lips to clean the remnants of blood.

"That’s technically cannibalism," you retorted, uncertain.

Nothing in his posture suggested Jade would harm you, yet it was better not to push your luck while you were still on his good side. It would be safer to do what Floyd had asked — borrow a pair of Jade’s shoes — and leave, but Jade was already too close, staring at you with gleaming eyes and a smile that made you want to vomit from the overwhelming stench of death emanating from him.

"Cannibalism? Don’t be so mundane, my dear. It’s part of my diet. In the ocean, everyone eats such things all the time. Please, don’t apply human laws to me in the same way." Breathing in that warm breath was difficult, but you maintained your composure to avoid offending the eel. You never knew when you might be next on his list.

"Is that how it works?" You murmured, trying to look away, but Jade’s eyes were like an abyss. Hypnotic. Inescapable. He always had that effect on you, a mix of fascination and fear. Despite his refined and polished appearance, you knew he was dangerous. Deadly, even.

Jade tilted his head, as if savoring the tension in the air between you. The smile never left his bloodstained lips.

"Oh, it works quite well, actually." His voice was a seductive whisper, dancing between calmness and something... predatory. "Each bite... every drop... is an experience. Something that few have the privilege to appreciate."

You swallowed hard, feeling cold sweat trickling down your neck. Fresh blood dripped from his pale fingers, staining the already soaked ground around you. He made no effort to clean his hands, and the sight only made him seem more savage, a refined predator who had just hunted.

"Do you... enjoy it?" The question slipped out before you could stop it. Your voice sounded shakier than you’d have liked, but it was hard to feign indifference in the face of such grotesque scenery.

Jade chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound, like the echo of an underwater current. He took a step forward, and you felt the space around you shrink. He was too close now.

"Enjoy?" He repeated, his eyes gleaming with malice. "I would say it’s more than that. It’s a matter of necessity... of survival. And you, Yuu?" He raised an eyebrow, his gaze fixed on yours. "Have you never wondered what it would be like? The taste? The texture? The feeling of completely dominating something or someone?"

Your stomach churned. Jade always had a way of wrapping you in his words, as if trying to drag you into the same dark world he inhabited. And the worst part? A small part of you wanted to know. Wanted to understand.

"No... I..." You began, but the words died in your throat when he raised his bloodied hand and ran it across his lips, licking his index finger with disturbing calm.

"I could show you, if you wish," he whispered, his voice like a cold current snaking toward you. "Just a small bite... nothing too dangerous. Just enough for you... to experience it."

Your heart raced. It was an invitation, but also a threat. A test. Jade enjoyed playing with your limits, pushing them just to see how far you could go before breaking. And now, he watched you with that intense gaze, waiting for your answer.

"I... think I’ll pass," you managed to say, trying to smile, though fear burned inside you. "Floyd sent me to get the shoes. Nothing more."

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then, Jade stepped back, the smile still present but now with something almost disappointed.

"Ah, Floyd." He murmured, adjusting his suit with a graceful gesture. "Always so practical. So straightforward. Very well, Yuu. I won’t be rude. Not today."

You took a deep breath, feeling relief fill your lungs. He was letting you go. For now. Jade retrieved a pair of shoes from a nearby corner, clean, as if they hadn’t witnessed the macabre scene around them. He extended them to you with a refined gesture, as if offering a gift.

"Take them." His eyes gleamed again with that familiar malice. "But remember, Yuu... the door between you and me is never fully closed. Perhaps, one day, your curiosity will win."

You took the shoes, your hands slightly trembling, and stepped back.

"Maybe..." You replied softly, trying to sound firm, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

With one last smile, Jade turned back to the bodies on the ground, as if you were no longer there. You didn’t look back as you left—because you knew that if you did, you would find those predatory eyes watching your every move.

And somehow, you knew he was right.

[all444miles]

— IN HER OWN LIL’ WORLD

— paring: e!42 miles x black!fem!reader

— genre: fluff

— summary: you can chat for the world, so you tell it all to none other than your boyfriend.

— a/n: the way this is a self insert bc when i tell u i can CHATTTTTT 😭 this is pretty much inspired by the song “love is only a feeling” (hence the title, that “she’s so perfect in her lil world”) so you might see a bit of lyric references in it. writing ts at 2am got me TIRED than a mf, but enjoy !!

You were a natural talker. You could talk for hours without getting tired. You could talk for the whole world, even. So you tell everything you want to say to your world, Miles. Miles loved everything about you. But when you would talk to him non-stop, and the way you’d articulate your words? Made his whole day.

“She came up to me tryna start sum, and you know I wouldn’t take that shi, so I had to deal wit her.” you explained, sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, his hands on your waist, as you continued to tell the story you had been telling Miles about for the past 26 minutes.

“Mami, you fought her?” he asked, his head cocking to the side and his eyebrows furrowed. “Das crazy, ain’t I said if you got a problem tell me?” You never really knew how, but whenever a person would cause you problems, Miles would always find a way to sort it out.

You tried to think to yourself, before you realised what he said to you just a ago week ago, catching your breath as you did so.

“Aight ma, after that fight, if you got any more beef wit somebody, for a good reason, you come to me, you heard?”

“Oh yeah..” you could hear a soft sigh coming from Miles and watched as he slightly shook his head, which made you smile. “That’s my bad. But she still deserved that shit.”

“So ima take it you won? Or else ima be even more annoyed.” he questioned you, raising an eyebrow, engaging himself more into the conversation.

You chuckled at his question, and your answer made him grin. “Of course I did! You ain’t never gon see me lose a fight.”

“That’s my girl. Now, tell me the rest.” you smiled at Miles as he waited for you to continue. You were always a talkative person, and Miles would always be the one to listen.

“You sure I ain’t talking yo ear off, baby?” you laughed quietly as you spoke, feeling the slightest bit self-conscious that you were talking too much. Miles, however, laughed at what you said.

“Mami, you always do, but I love it.”

“Ahora, no dejes que te detenga amor, sigue hablándome.” (Now, don't let me stop you love, keep talking to me.)

© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.

likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !

[stylesispunk]

"But daddy I love him"

ceo!Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: you made up a lie involving joel for the sake of both your companies. What would come out from all of this?

wc: 3k.

warnings: age gap and grammar mistakes because I didn't check my writing.

a/n: this is the mess that comes from my mind after a week of migraines and being sick. The idea is corny and stupid but I had fun and I know the rest is going to be fun too, so I hope you like it. (please read before I regretted it and delete) Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You sat at the head of the sleek conference table, your fingers drumming lightly against the polished surface. The room buzzed with a low hum of voice as the team discussed the latest financial reports and projections. Your mind, however, was elsewhere, focused on the challenge that lay ahead.

The company your father had built from the ground up was now facing unprecedented challenges. Competitors were closing in, and technological advancements were outpacing their current capabilities. Despite their best efforts, it was becoming clear that you needed a strategic partnership to stay afloat.

“Okay, what do you think?" John, the CFO, interrupted your thoughts.

You straightened in your chair, pushing a strand of auburn hair behind your ear. "I think we need to consider all options," you replied firmly. "Including a merger."

The room fell silent. Your suggestion hung in the air, heavy with implications. Everyone knew who you were referring to—Miller Enterprises, your fiercest rival.

"But your father..." John began, hesitating.

You raised a hand to silence him. "I know my father has strong feelings about Joel Miller. But we have to look at this objectively. Our future depends on it."

You could see the doubt in their eyes and the unspoken questions. How could they convince your father, a man known for his stubbornness and pride, to collaborate with the one person he despised the most?

The tension in the room was palpable as the team exchanged uneasy glances. You could almost hear the gears turning in their minds, trying to process the audacity of your proposal. The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, until finally, John spoke up again.

He called you by your first name to emphasize the gravity of the situation: "Do you really think there's any chance your father would agree to this? Joel Miller is his sworn enemy. They've been at each other's throats for years."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know it's a long shot. I think their beef is stupid. I mean, my father hates Joel, and whatever the issue, they shouldn’t have passed it on to his son. And we have to at least try. If we don't, Carter Industries might not survive the next year."

Another voice chimed in, this time from Samantha, the head of marketing. "And what about Joel? Even if your father agrees, will Joel go along with it?"

"That's what I intend to find out," you said resolutely. "I'll speak to him tonight at the tech conference. We need to at least open a dialogue."

The room gradually filled with murmurs of reluctant agreement. The plan was risky, but it was the only viable option. The meeting concluded with cautious optimism, and you returned to your office to prepare for the evening.

Later that evening, you attended a tech conference at the Grand Hilton Hotel. The ballroom was filled with industry leaders, investors, and innovators, all mingling under the glittering chandeliers. You moved through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries and making mental notes of potential allies.

As you reached the bar, you spotted a familiar figure—Joel Miller. Tall, with a commanding presence and sharp features, Joel was in deep conversation with a group of executives. His eyes met yours briefly, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of surprise before his usual confident expression returned.

You couldn’t lie and say that the man hadn’t caught your attention; since the first time you saw him, you developed a crush on him, looking from afar at how he had been able to save his father’s company after he got sick, which was something you truly admired from him. However, the man seemed to be despicable, only showing cold behavior in front of others and in front of you; after all, you were the daughter of the man, whom he hated the most, and you had to pay for the sins of old men.

With twelve years ahead of you, Joel never took anything you did seriously. For him, you were the spoiled little brat daughter of his enemy.

Your name came out of his lips in such a sultry voice that your back arched. You turned around to face him, and he greeted you with a wry smile as you reached him.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

"Joel," you replied coolly, matching his tone. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"It's always good to keep an eye on the competition," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. "I was hoping we could talk," you said instead, lowering your voice. "Privately."

Joel raised an eyebrow but nodded. He excused himself from his group and led you to a quieter corner of the room. The ambient noise of the conference faded slightly, giving you a semblance of privacy.

"Alright, what's this about?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "Our companies are in trouble, Joel.”

He widens his eyes at you, surprised.

“Yes, I know your company is in trouble, Joel. and we need to merge if we want to survive."

Joel's expression hardened, with a flicker of skepticism in his eyes. "You know as well as I do that your father will never agree to that."

"I'm aware," you admitted, your voice steady. "But I also know that you're smart enough to see the potential benefits. We need to find a way to make this work."

He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense. "And how do you propose we convince our fathers to set aside their differences and agree to this merger?"

Before you could answer, a waiter approached with a tray of champagne flutes. You each took one, the pause giving you a moment to gather your thoughts.

"We'll need to present a united front," you said finally. "Show them that we're serious and that this is the best option for both companies."

Joel took a sip of his champagne, considering your words. "And how do you suggest we do that?"

Your mind raced, searching for a solution that would make your proposal more palatable to your father. The idea came to you suddenly, reckless and desperate, but it was the only one that seemed even remotely feasible.

"We tell them we're having a baby," you said, the words rushing out before you could second-guess yourself.

Joel choked on his champagne, his eyes wide with shock. "What?!"

"It's not true, of course," you hurriedly explained. "But if they believe it, it might just be enough to make them put aside their differences and agree to the merger."

You held your breath as Joel's reaction sank in. His wide-eyed shock was exactly what you had expected, though it didn't make it any easier to withstand.

"It's the only way they'll take us seriously," you explained quickly, your voice low but urgent. "If they think there's a future together—both personally and professionally—they'll have no choice but to consider the merger."

Joel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, disbelief still etched on his face. "You're suggesting we lie about something as serious as a baby? Do you have any idea how insane that sounds?"

"I know it's drastic," you admitted, stepping closer to ensure no one could overhear. "But think about it. They'd be forced to put aside their grudges for the sake of a grandchild. And once the merger is complete, we can come clean. By then, it will be too late to undo anything."

He stared at you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart pound in your chest. "And what if they find out before then? What if they never forgive us for the deception?"

You shrugged, trying to seem more confident than you felt. "It's a risk, yes. But it's a risk we have to take if we want to save our companies."

Joel ran a hand through his hair, his eyes never leaving yours. You could see the wheels turning in his mind as he weighed the pros and cons of your reckless plan. Finally, he sighed, a mixture of frustration and reluctant agreement in his expression.

"Alright," he said slowly. "We'll do it your way. But this better work, or we'll both end up paying for this."

You nodded, the weight of Joel's reluctant agreement settling over you. "Thank you, Joel. I promise, this will work."

He glanced around the room, ensuring no one was eavesdropping. "So, what's our next move?"

"We need to act fast," you replied. "We'll call a meeting with both our fathers and present the news together. We have to be completely united in this."

Joel's eyes narrowed. “And how is your father going to act when he finds out I touched his daughter?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, recognizing the concern in Joel's question. "I know my father is protective," you admitted, "but that's why we need to handle this delicately. We need to present a united front and show them that this decision is ours, not something forced upon us."

Joel's eyes remained fixed on you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart pound. "And what if he reacts badly?”

"That's a risk we have to take," you replied firmly. "But if we approach this with honesty and determination, they'll see that we are serious about our future—both personal and professional. They might be angry at first, but eventually they'll come around."

Joel sighed, rubbing his temples. "You’re a fucking child, and so stupid.”

Joel’s harsh words stung, but you squared your shoulders and met his gaze steadily. "Maybe I am," you said quietly, "but I’m willing to take this risk because I believe it’s the right thing to do. For our companies, for our future."

He looked at you for a long moment, frustration etched on his face, but something else too—perhaps a grudging respect for your determination. "Fine," he muttered finally. "We'll do it your way. But don’t expect me to protect you if this blows up in our faces."

"I don’t need your protection," you replied, your voice steady. "I need your cooperation."

Joel's eyes flickered with something that might have been respect, but he quickly masked it with a scowl. "Alright, then," he said, his voice resigned but firm. "Let's get this over with."

+

The following evening, you arranged a dinner meeting with both fathers at an upscale restaurant, choosing a private room to avoid any public scenes. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and unspoken tension as you and Joel waited for your fathers to arrive.

When your father entered, his eyes immediately narrowed upon seeing Joel. "What is he doing here?" he demanded.

"Please, Dad, sit down," you said calmly. "We have something important to discuss."

Mr. Miller arrived shortly after; his expression equally grim. "This better be good," he said, his tone icy.

Joel and you exchanged a brief, reassuring glance before addressing the room. "Dad, Mr. Miller, we have some news that will affect both our families and our companies," Joel began. "We need you to listen with an open mind."

Your father crossed his arms, suspicion evident in his eyes. "Get on with it."

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. "Joel and I... we’re having a baby."

The reaction was immediate. Your father's face turned a deep shade of red, his eyes widening in shock and anger. "What did you just say?" he thundered.

Mr. Miller's expression was a mix of disbelief and confusion. "This better not be some kind of joke."

"It's not a joke," you said firmly, trying to maintain your composure. "Joel and I are expecting a child. We understand this is unexpected, but we believe this is an opportunity for both our families and companies to come together."

Your father's hands clenched into fists, his voice shaking with fury. "You...you betrayed me. With him."

"Dad, please," you pleaded. "Think about the future. Our child deserves a stable, united family. And our companies need to work together to survive."

You still had no idea of the phantoms your father withe

Mr. Miller, though still shocked, seemed to be processing the information more rationally. "If what you're saying is true, then perhaps we need to reconsider our priorities. For the sake of the future."

Your father glared at him. "You're willing to forgive and forget just like that?"

Mr. Miller met his gaze steadily. "For the sake of a grandchild and the future of our companies, yes. We need to find a way to move forward."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Finally, your father exhaled, his shoulders sagging in defeat. "Fine. For now, we'll discuss this further. But know this: if either of you are lying, there will be consequences."

You nodded, the weight of your father's warning settling heavily on your shoulders. "Thank you, Dad. We promise this is for the best."

Joel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his grip firm but gentle. "We'll make this work, Sir. I promise."

The tension in the room remained thick, but the initial storm of emotions had passed. The fathers exchanged a few more guarded words, agreeing to meet again to discuss the logistics of a potential merger. As they stood to leave, your father pulled you aside, his face a mix of worry and anger.

"I hope you know what you're doing," he said quietly. "This isn't just about business. It's your life, too."

"I know, Dad," you replied softly. "But I believe this is the right choice. For all of us."

With a reluctant nod, he let you go, and you watched as both fathers left the room, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you.

Joel turned to you, his expression a mix of relief and residual frustration. "Well, that went...better than expected."

You managed a small smile. "Yeah. Now we just have to figure out how to make this convincing."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Please don’t say we need to spend more time together”

Joel's words hung in the air; his frustration evident. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain your composure. "I know this isn't ideal," you said gently, "but we need to make this believable. Our fathers need to see that we're serious."

Joel rubbed his temples, a look of resignation on his face. “They know how babies are made, but fine.” he muttered. "What's the plan?"

"We need to start spending time together publicly," you explained. "Go to events, be seen together, and show that we're committed. We also need to have private moments where our fathers can see us interacting genuinely."

Joel looked at you, his expression softening slightly. "Alright. But let's make this as painless as possible."

You nodded in agreement. "We'll keep it professional and focused on the goal. We don't have to be best friends, but we need to convince them that we're building something real."

“But please, don’t make it public” he begged. “I need to sort some things out first”

You recognized the seriousness in Joel's tone and nodded, understanding his request. "Of course," you replied softly. "We'll keep it low-key for now. Just focus on sorting things out on your end, and when you're ready, we can gradually start making our relationship more public."

+

The next day, you found yourself immersed in a crucial meeting, discussing the finer details of the potential merger with key stakeholders. Despite the weight of the situation, you maintained your composure and focused on the task at hand.

As the meeting progressed, an urgent knock echoed through the door, interrupting the discussion. You glanced up, surprised to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression stormy.

"Joel, what are you doing here?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern.

He strode into the room, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. "We need to talk," he said tersely, his gaze fixed on you.

Sensing the gravity of the situation, you excused yourself from the meeting, motioning for Joel to follow you to your office. The tension in the air was palpable as you closed the door behind you, bracing yourself for whatever news had prompted Joel's unexpected visit.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your voice laced with apprehension.

Joel paced the room, his frustration evident in every movement. "Your father," he began, his voice tight with anger. "He's made the news public. He's announcing our supposed relationship to the world."

Shock rippled through you at the revelation. "What? But we agreed to keep it low-key until you were ready."

Joel's expression darkened. "Clearly, your father had other plans. He's blindsided us, and now our private arrangement is splashed across every news outlet."

Your heart sank as you processed the implications of your father's actions. "I can't believe he would do this," you muttered, a mix of disbelief and betrayal washing over you.

Joel stopped pacing, his gaze locking on yours. "You need to deal with this now!” he said, pointing at you.

"Okay, what's so wrong?" you asked, trying to maintain a calm demeanor despite the rising panic within you.

Joel's eyes bore into yours; his frustration was palpable. "Do you realize what this means? Our private agreement is all out in the open now. We're going to be scrutinized and judged, and God knows what else."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I understand the gravity of the situation, Joel. But you can't panic. We need to think rationally and come up with a plan to handle this."

He scoffed with a bitter edge to his tone. "And what plan do you propose? The damage is done. We need to contain this before it spirals out of control."

"Why are you asking so crazily about it?" you questioned, a hint of confusion in your voice. "We're in this together, Joel. We need to focus on finding a solution."

Joel's frustration seemed to reach a boiling point as he paced the room, his movements tense and agitated. "Because," he finally spat out, his voice laced with bitterness, "I have a girlfriend, and she's not too pleased about being dragged into this mess."

Shock washed over you as his words sank in. "Wait, what? You have a girlfriend?"

He shot you a withering look, his anger barely contained. "Yes, I have a girlfriend," he snapped. "And she's not exactly thrilled about the fact that I'm supposedly having a baby with you, of all people."

The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never considered the possibility that Joel might be involved with someone else. The realization that you had unwittingly become entangled in his personal life only added to the chaos of the situation.

"I had no idea," you murmured, feeling a surge of guilt wash over you. "I'm so sorry, Joel. I never meant for any of this to happen."

He scoffed, his expression filled with scorn. "Well, it did happen. And now we're both in this mess, thanks to your brilliant idea.”

He scoffed with a bitter edge to his tone. "And what plan do you propose? The damage is done. We need to contain this before it spirals out of control."

"Why are you asking so crazily about it?" you questioned, a hint of confusion in your voice. "We're in this together, Joel. We need to focus on finding a solution."

Joel's frustration seemed to reach a boiling point as he paced the room, his movements tense and agitated. "Because," he finally spat out, his voice laced with bitterness, "I have a girlfriend, and she's not too pleased about being dragged into this mess."

Shock washed over you as his words sank in. "Wait, what? You have a girlfriend?"

He shot you a withering look, his anger barely contained. "Yes, I have a girlfriend," he snapped. "And she's not exactly thrilled about the fact that I'm supposedly in a fake relationship with you, of all people."

The revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. You had never considered the possibility that Joel might be involved with someone else. The realization that you had unwittingly become entangled in his personal life only added to the chaos of the situation.

You swallowed hard, the weight of Joel's words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I understand," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to cause any harm, Joel. I thought…”

“You didn’t think! That’s the  problem." He snapped, “You’re a spoiled woman, just as I always thought, and you don’t care about anything or anyone.”

Joel's words cut deep, slicing through your defenses like a razor-sharp blade. The accusation stung, and you felt a surge of pain and frustration rise within you.

"I do care, Joel," you protested, your voice shaking with emotion. "I care about our companies and about our futures. I thought I was doing what was necessary to save them."

He scoffed; his expression hardened with resentment. "Save them? You're willing to sacrifice anything and anyone to get what you want, aren't you? Including my relationship, my life?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of guilt and anguish clouding your vision. "No, that's not true," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I never wanted to hurt you, Joel. I never wanted any of this."

He shook his head, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don’t you dare to cry when you were the one who came up with this idea?”

Joel's words hit you like a punch to the gut, intensifying the ache of guilt and regret that had already weighed heavily on you. His anger was palpable, his frustration tangible, and you felt utterly defenseless in the face of his accusation.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else."

His expression softened slightly, but the anger still smoldered in his eyes. "I know," he said, his voice gentler now. “I’m sorry for talking to you that way... It’s just... this girl; I haven’t felt this way about someone, and I don’t want to lose it because of you.”

Tension hung heavy in the air as Joel's words lingered between you. The raw honesty in his confession took you aback, softening the edges of your own guilt and remorse.

"I understand," you replied, your voice tinged with empathy. "I never intended to come between you and anyone else. I just wanted to do what was best for our companies."

Joel nodded, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I know," he murmured, his gaze drifting to the floor. "But we're in this mess now, and we need to figure out how to fix it."

You nodded in agreement, a shared determination filling the space between you. "We'll find a way," you promised, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. "Together."

As your hand made contact with Joel's arm, you both felt a sudden jolt of electricity shoot through the air, a tangible spark igniting between you. His gaze lifted from the floor to meet yours, and in that moment, you both sensed a shift in the atmosphere.

Joel's expression softened a flicker of something unreadable dancing in his eyes. For a brief moment, the world's weight seemed to lift from your shoulders as you stood there, connected by a string that threatened to pull the both of you together.

´+

[inkspiredwriting]

Time Travel Tacos

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I started writing again after eight years, I've never uploaded my stories here on Tumblr before and that's why I'm a little scared. please tell me if you like it

Warnings: None

The day started like any other for Y/N. She was working the lunch shift at Tasty Tacos, the best taco stand in the city, and trying to keep up with the steady stream of customers. It was Taco Tuesday, which meant extra busy, but Y/N didn't mind. She liked the fast pace, the chatter of happy customers, and the smell of sizzling meat and fresh tortillas. What she didn't like was the sudden appearance of a disheveled teenager with a very serious expression standing in front of her.

"Hey, kid, you lost or something?" Y/N asked, glancing around to see if a concerned parent was nearby. The boy, who couldn't have been more than thirteen, although he had the aura of someone much older, stared at her with piercing blue eyes.

"Do I look lost to you?" he retorted, sounding both annoyed and world-weary.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Well, you're standing in front of a taco stand looking like you just crawled out of a time machine, so yeah, a little."

The boy sighed and rubbed his temples. "I'm Number Five. I'm from The Umbrella Academy. And no, I'm not lost. I'm exactly where I need to be."

"Uh-huh." Y/N tried to process the information. "Right. And I'm supposed to know what The Umbrella Academy is because...?"

Five looked at her like she had just asked him to explain quantum mechanics to a toddler. "It's not important. What is important is that I need your help."

"With what? A taco?"

"No," he said impatiently, "I need to borrow your taco stand."

Y/N blinked. "You need to borrow...my taco stand."

"Yes," Five said, as if this were the most reasonable request in the world.

"Why?"

He sighed again, clearly frustrated. "I don't have time to explain all the details, but let's just say I'm on a mission that involves saving the world, and right now, your taco stand is the best place to hide from some very dangerous people."

Y/N looked around. Her taco stand, with its cheerful red-and-yellow paint job and the happy chatter of customers, hardly seemed like a place for world-saving missions. But then again, she had never met anyone quite like this kid before.

"Okay," she said slowly. "So, you want to hide behind the counter or something?"

"Exactly." Five gave her a rare, small smile. "And I'll take a taco while I'm at it. Beef, extra spicy."

Y/N shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the bizarre situation. "Fine, but if you get me in trouble with my boss, you're paying for all the tacos."

"Deal," Five said, already moving behind the counter with surprising agility for someone his size.

As Y/N prepared his taco, she couldn't help but ask, "So, you time travel and save the world, huh?"

"Pretty much," Five said, peeking out from behind a stack of tortilla boxes.

"Must be exhausting."

"You have no idea."

Y/N handed him the taco and watched as he devoured it in record time. "Good thing you've got tacos to keep you going."

Five looked at her, crumbs around his mouth. "You know, Y/N, if we do save the world, maybe I'll bring the team here for a celebratory meal. You might just have the best tacos in the entire timeline."

Y/N laughed. "I'll hold you to that, Number Five."

Just then, a group of men in dark suits and sunglasses appeared, scanning the area. Five ducked down lower, motioning for Y/N to keep quiet.

"Let me guess," she whispered. "Those are the dangerous people?"

Five nodded. "Yeah. And they do not appreciate good tacos."

Y/N smirked. "Their loss. Hang tight, I'll handle them."

She stepped out in front of the taco stand, greeting the men with her best customer service smile. "Hi there! Can I interest you in our special Taco Tuesday deal?"

The men exchanged confused glances. "We're looking for someone," one of them said.

"Well, I can assure you there's no one here but hungry customers. But how about a taco while you search? On the house."

The men hesitated, then grudgingly accepted. As they ate, Five slipped out the back, giving Y/N a grateful nod.

"Best tacos in the timeline," he mouthed before disappearing into the alley.

Y/N chuckled as she watched him go. "Just another day at Tasty Tacos," she muttered to herself. "Just another day."

[on-tracks-and-playlists]

Seventeen as F1 drivers I grew up watching….

S.coups. Max verstappen

There's just something about S.coups' and Max's aura that gives ✨MAJESTIC✨. I have NEVER seen a bigger pet dad than these two. You know how Max broke the wooden door of his storeroom because his cat was stuck inside and he couldn't open it from outside, I bet Seungcheol will pull some similar kind of shit if it's for Kumma. One thing that just makes sense about both of them- GIRL DAD- we already have a glimpse of girl-dad Max when he takes care of Penelope but I love how Caratland has collectively announced that Seungcheol IS A GIRL DAD. Both of them have their own principles but will not follow the instructions given if anything crosses them. They are both the type you would benefit from not having a beef with, 'cause they are difficult to handle when triggered. I don't know why the internet just keeps on bashing Seungcheol and Max as the scariest and most emotionally unavailable person, when they are the pookiest bears u will ever meet- like how Max reassured Lando that he is capable of bigger things everytime Lando doubts himself and how Seungcheol always guides his members through the tough times seventeen has had. They care and sympathise for those they cherish.

Jeonghan. Nico Rosberg

Britanny Spear. Goldilocks. Rapunzel… Whoever is known for their luscious golden locks… Add these two to the list. One tributing to seventeen other to formula one. The funny thing is, despite the fans absolutely adoring the look on Jeonghan, he doesn't like having long hair because of how high maintenance it is and it troubles while performing… just the same way Nico doesn't appreciate being called Britney because, well it's self-explanatory ig. Being the leader of the tiredz line I think Jeonghan always searches for the easiest and fastest way to get the job done… And once done he will not waste a second to go back home. This behavior of Jeonghan is giving the same energy as how Nico won his first (and only) drivers' championship, got his name written in the history of world champions, and retired...for the comfort of his family. Always stirring drama, we all know how Jeonghan is famous for creating chaos and drama within seventeen, and ever since Nico became an f1 reporter (or commentator idk the word for it) I think he's been doing the same, stirring drama.... interviewing Lewis in Spain the very circuit the famous brocedes crashed will forever be gold to me... him taking selfie in front of Lewis' garage to give him the "Rosberg curse"... Yeah I miss both my blonde icons 😭😭

Joshua Sebastian Vettel

40% Kind, 30% flirt, 80%patience, 50%Maniac... (they are both twice the man anyone can ever be) Joshua and Sebastian are both the definition of kids well raised… The gentlemen of the group always take care of others. Making sure everyone is comfortable and comforted, they will make sure the grid and members are well fed. The gentlemen who protects the ladies and ends up rizzing them. The gentlemen who acts innocent knowing very well they have the rizz to charm the person in front, and have succeeded in doing so. Istg both of them are such big flirts…. if they are not being straight while flirting they are being gay and flirting with men. Both of them give the energy of cool uncles you would love to spend your summer break with… but your parents are kinda scared to leave you with them; not because they don't trust Josh and Sebastian but because of all the shenanigans that will go down while you are together. Well most accurate of it all is the crazy chaotic side they share, and I know I don't need to explain this to yall… My baby boos no body hurt them istg I WILL throw hands…. They are both very dear to me. Everyone is a Seb Vettel fan, even if you think you are not, you are a Seb Vettel fan. and I think the same for our gentle sexy Josh, you just can't come close to disliking him let alone hate... and if you do, you should cease to exist.

Jun. Alex Albon

Georgie Pooh's best friend. They are both goofballs that everyone absolutely adores. You trouble them and their bf (George and Minghao) are ready to wrestle you down. Have the most innocent face and smile in the group, but don't be fooled by the looks they are both just hidden menaces in disguise sometimes. The most random person you would ever come to know... people might argue that Hoshi and Lando are much more random... and I agree, yes they are, but it's how we expect them to be random that makes it less random almost as if we are anticipating that from Lando and Hoshi but with Jun and Alex it nearly fun cause we DO NOT expect that. WE DO NOT expect a 26-year-old Jun to just randomly come over and start mimicking an old lady in the middle of someone else's conversation. WE DO NOT EXPECT 27-year-old Alex to (try to) make the hardest track and just end up drawing a snail on the paper AND name the track RAIL THE SNAIL. It's just this randomness that makes them funny for me. Physically I don't think either of them can hurt a fly, but mentally, oh boy they will leave a scar on you by their sarcastic choice of words. All in all, you just can't NOT LIKE either of them.

Hoshi. Lando Norris

Literal ChAOs of the pack. Hoshi comes with a 'HANDLE WITH CARE' label on himself, just like Lando. You never know when their hyperactive mode will turn on. They need a lot of love and care to function properly. GIVE! THEM! ATTENTION! IT DOESN'T MATTER IF U ARE OLDER THAN THEM OR NOT. As I mentioned above RANDOM AS HELL. If it feels right they will say and do THE MOST RANDOM stuff, completely out of context…(que to Lando randomly blurting ✨B U N D A✨ in that one interview). Do you remember that one interview where Hoshi says 'I buy all, I eat all and then I regret all' THAT IS LANDO. I feel like they are both the type to not listen to you while you are instructing them to not do something hazardous, and then blame you for not stopping or warning them after the deed's done. If F1 had its own BSS...lando would definately be a part of it. On the contrary to this, their professional selves are very competitive and intimidating. Both Lando and Hoshi are very result oriented and mostly tend to be a little tough on themselves, and resultingly also towards people around them.

Wonwoo. Oscar piastri

We have two calm cuties in the building here, both of them radiating cat energy. They will very diligently serve the polite cat face. Lowkey hilarious. Both of them have such a dry sense of humor it is exactly my type. They have a very high intellect and definitely a big thesaurus. Oscar is always out there helping Lando's dyslexic ass figure out words he cant pronounce or spell and then we have Kim Mingyu, mentioning in that going seventeen episode of insomnia, that Wonwoo uses smartass words. In my eyes, it's the introvert in them, that finds it difficult to be able to express themselves. But once with the correct person/ people, oh boy there's no stopping them. Wonwoo and Oscar both have a very mysterious vibe to them which is... well very attractive. AND I cant exaggerate enough how cute they both are.

Woozi. Lewis Hamilton

The GREATEST OF ALL TIMES. There's a reason why we call Woozi the god of music, and that's because of his unbeatable records and talents in his career, just like Sir Hamilton. They both started young and are here to stay long and honestly, they achieved the point at where they will stay forever in the names of K-pop and F1. They both have a very dedicated and fun approach towards their carrer. One thing I can not exaggerate enough is how both Woozi and Lewis laugh gives me comfort. It's just how freely they laugh out loud, full HAHAHA, is special to me. Both of them are very well secure in themselves and know the impact they have. I love my short kings.

The8. George Russell

As I said above… Alobono's bestie. Material gworl. THE MEME. Both of them are crazy. 🤩CRAZY🤪. Personally, they both seem to be the types to judge their peers, for quite a long time… And then join the shenanigans… Although they act questionable too they just brush it off (or at least try to) by being cool. They are ✨SASSY✨ and that's a F A C T. It's beautiful how they always keep their fans in mind and have the most adorable and iconic moments with them. Like George's interaction with the little Singapore fan wearing the George T-pose shirt and this interaction in Singapore again and we can not forget that fan call with Myungho where the carat showed him a gaint frog and he just was surprised, shocked and trying not to laugh. Both of them have a beautiful taste in fashion. Old Money. Georg as your Old Money CEO vibes and the8 as your Old Money Mafia vibe(your view might be different idk). Their face economy is high on the scale. Literal definition of angel face demonic acts. George is our "chiseled angel" and Myungho is our "Chinese prince".

Mingyu. Oliver Bearman

Big baby trapped in an even bigger body. We all know that Mingyu is famous for being a muscular beanpole, but Ollie is also a handsome lampost, like 185 cm for the driver, no jokes. If golden retriever was a person it would be them, both of them hold their hearts on the sleeves. Very, and I say, very optimistic with their surroundings. They have a very play full personality, which I am hoping to see more from Oliver in Haas. Collecting fans left and right, everywhere they go. Mingyu absolutely basks in the fame and love his fans shower and I can see Oliver absorbing the adoration he receives, not just from his grid parents but from the whole F1 community. They are beautifully loved and it just shows in how well they treat their fans and people around them. I love the family dynamics in the Kim family and the Bearman family. There is love, comfort, mischief and a lot of support for their son's career. Highlight of it all would be Ollie's dad worried over his 18-year-old son's debut f1 race. They have both the best performance duality, one second u will see Mingoo and Ollie, and the moment you blink, boom, Kim Mingyu slaying the stage and Oliver Bearman showing no mercy in the race.

Dk. Daniel Riccardo

Big eyes, big nose, big smile, big personality. Danny will deffo be pt. 2 of BSS. These two are everybody's fantasy man. Honestly (pls don't come at me for saying this) I am neither a DK bias nor is Danielle my fav driver, but, they just have the kind of personality that draws you in and makes you want to know more about them. And then you fall in love with them and there's no undo for both of them once you fall. Always loud. Fucking loud. Everything they do is LOUD. But they are never loud alone, they always have a companion in their shenanigans. The sunshine. The happy virus. The energy boost of the group. But they come with their own hardships which usually go unnoticed. Even with the insane vocals DK usually struggles while recording and starts questioning his choice of career (ngl I kinda find it funny sometimes, not like I am laughing tho, it must be difficult for them), and well Danny has had a fare share in difficult times with his career. It's crazy how a lot of people just forget that they are insanely handsome just because they are super goofy. I think it for the better to stay this way cause if the people were to find their beauty, it would be the end of the world.

Seungkwan. Carlos Sainz Jr

For sure BSS part 3 will be Carlos. Social butterfly, is literally besties with everyone, everywhere. What makes it better is that Seungkwan and Carlos both, just adapt to the people around them, never letting them feel alone and always having a welcoming smile… we can't forget how Papa Sainz adopts the drivers just like Seungkwan adopting younger idols. ends up resorting to violence if things don't go their way, i.e. Seungkwan's famous flying kick sent Hoshi's way and Carlos pushing Charles and Lando off the chair every time during the team challenges. You can catch them anywhere, one moment you will see Carlos racing and you open Twitter to find him giving the trophies to Moto GP winners with his father, the same as SeungKwan is on every show you can think of co-hosting, as a mentor or just for promotion. If elegance met chaos it would be Carlos and Seungkwan. they are both very well celebrated and idolised in their domain; both well celebrated in Spain and Jeju respectively.

Vernon. Fernando Alonso

What I think is fascinatingly alike in both of them is that neither act their age. They are mentally in their preeteen(probably younger for vernon, coz he a baby) and it is very visible in how seventeen treats and Pampers Vernon and Alonso's little banters on the team radio (which I absolutely love btw). Hopefully both of them remain youthful forever. No thoughts head empty just thinking about vernon in going seventeen episodes and aonso in post race interviews. How they keep their faces straight most of the time while doing the randomest thingsHalf of the time they are just wondering wtf is wrong with the team and the other time they are confused why they even get involved in the weird team antics, ALL THE WHILE FULLY BEING PRESENT IN THE TEAM DRAMA. DW they love their team, ig. Alonso's little dancey dance celebration for race wins when he was with Renault reminds me of Vernon's clap freestyle dance breaks during concerts, totally random but completely their style. Vernon did a lot of side quests before becoming seventeen just like alonso when he took a break from F1 by joining rally…. And let's not forget they will both be amazing Gen z social media influencers.

Dino. Franco Colapinto

When I see these two I see youth and talent… One is the future of K-pop and the other one, I can definitely see being the future of Formula One… it's been only a few races Franco has been on the grid and I can see him being very dedicated towards his team and his performance. The slightest mistake and he will be pushing himself through for not being better, unsatisfied with his output. Exactly how Dino pushes himself to the limits and beyond, he would do anything to keep his team in the best spirits. It breaks my heart to see them being upset OR unsatisfied with the performance when they couldn't have served better. Both my youngsters have a very sassy humor. Dino has opted to this as a coping mechanism towards his 12 hyungs, well franco I find really funny during post race interviews like this interview where he called the alpines 'FRENCHS' cause he was salty they stole his well deserved fasted lap. ✨PURE GOLD✨. I am always looking forward to them serving on stage and on track, they never disappoint fr.

SPECIAL MENTION (I was just lowkey conflicted while choosing the matches for members and I feel like I need to mention these two because they are equally accurate i feel) KIM MINGYU AS CHARLES LECLERC

THE person everyone wants...Golden Boy who is loved by everyone... literally everyone's fav, and also the person with the weirdest luck... a tad bit too optimistic with their surroundings I feel... debuted with insane talent but got famous for their insane visuals first, talent second. another hyperactive personality duo of svt and f1.

WOOZI AS YUKI TSUNODA

Pocket sized. Little fierce devil in the guise of a cute hamster. They are known for their sharp use of vocabulary ones during lyrics writing and others on the radio. there's this little mischievous kid in them that always stays well kept but manages to pop out eventually. has that one most famous ship (yukierre and soonhoon).

a/n: I swear to God it has been in my drafts for a painfully long time. I tried to keep it as close to their personalities as I could find. I hope you guys enjoyed it any asks or recommendations are open <(●'◡'●)

tag list(open) @ssentimentals @magical-oppas

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x reader: Peaches[*]

A/N: I have a request for some soft!dom Azriel in my inbox, so I’m kind of using this as a little bit of a practice run :)

Warnings: ass-eating and rimjob (m receiving), some light wing play, Az being a little mean in the beginning then softening out, slightly more sub!Az at the end

Word Count: 2,518

You can just imagine how good he would feel in your hands. And with the way he’s walking up the stairs, the plump and toned muscle of his ass wrapped up tight in leathers…

His wings twitch, shadows undulating and he stops at the top of the stairs, turning to look at you over his shoulder, two plates of food in his hands, leaving you to carry the drinks. “I can feel your eyes on me, you know,” he remarks with a raised brow. You flush, having been caught.

“Oops,” you say, grinning as you walk past him, “guess my gaze slipped.” He snorts, shadows pinching your ass as you strut by, making you yelp. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, wishing you had a free hand to rub the sore skin. He gives you a panty-dropping grin, pissing you off just enough to have you kicking the door shut on him once you get in your bedroom.

He chuckles from the other side, shadows reopening the door while you set the glasses down. “Someone in a poor mood because she got caught eyeing me up?” He drawls, the smirk clear in his voice.

“I was not eyeing you up!” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that plumps your tits. His attention drops appreciatively, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. When his eyes return to yours, they’re a little darker, and you know he marks the roll of your throat.

“Please,” he purrs, setting the plates down on the bedside table. “You were looking at me like how Cassian looks at beef jerky.” His grin turns a little feral, “like you wanted to sink your teeth into me.” Heat blossoms across your lower body as he pin points the exact intent with which you had been staring at him.

Still, you raise your chin, looking down your nose at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

————

You know you’ve been staring at his ass all day.

How could you not? It’s so plump, and—and round, and…you’re actually salivating.

He hasn’t been giving you a break, wearing those leathers first thing in the morning until the last thing at night. He has to know what it does to you. Which means, he’s teasing you. You grown inwardly, knowing how your mate can be when it comes to denying your wants for his own pleasure. He’s probably enjoying this opportunity to get back at you for that one time, and the objective side of your mind knows it’s well-deserved. Still.

“What’s going on in that dumb, little mind of yours, pet?”

Arousal slams into you, knees nearly buckling at the rough timbre of his voice. You manage to keep yourself strong, refusing to allow that whimper to slip from your lips. “Where did you sneak up from?” You ask, and even to your own ears, you sound a little hoarse. His lips twitch, pressing his front into your back as he tips your chin upward, so he can look down at you properly. His hand practically swallows your throat, just holding, lightly.

“I thought I’d check in on my wife,” he drawls, and you feel the male satisfaction as the title slips smoothly from his tongue. His wife. He’d been just as obnoxious when the two of you had accepted the mating bond, calling you nothing but his mate for months on end. “See how she’s faring with these miserable chores that her miserable husband is forcing her to do.” His eyes gleam as your spine arches almost imperceptibly, his hips pushing tighter into your rear.

“He is quite miserable, isn’t he?” You murmur back. “Always denying me my fun.”

Azriel’s hands settle at your waist, spinning you around so you’re attention is fully on him—not the cleaned laundry you were folding. “And what fun are you after, wife?” He asks, hands grazing up the sides of your body until he’s cupping your cheeks, squishing them ever so lightly.

Warmth flushes your skin, but you lean into him. Your eyes flutter shut, his heat seeping into you as you allow your fingers to brush his forearms, travelling to his biceps, settling on the muscled edge of his ribs before grazing down. Your hands move over his waist, snaking around his back, descending past his hips, and—

You yelp when shadows bat your hands away, so close to finally, finally feeling him. Your eyes fly open, immediately locking on his own heated gaze, colour dusting his cheeks, canines digging into his lower lip as he watches you with an intensity that makes your legs want to fall open.

“Has no one ever taught you manners, pet?” He asks, hand sliding down to your waist while the other tilts your jaw upwards. “Ask before you touch.”

“I need permission to touch what’s mine?” You retort quietly, hunger blazing in the pit of your belly. You can scent his own arousal grow in response, grip biting into your soft skin.

His grin turns feline as he drags you closer to him, mouth brushing over your own, forcing you up onto your tiptoes, “you want more than just to touch, though, don’t you?”

————

You’re so worn out. So tired, and so ready for bed.

Between Azriel’s teasing, your job, and your own damned mind, you think you might be going crazy. The few dreams you’ve managed to keep with waking from sleep have consisted mostly of fruits…phallic and…peachy. He would never let you live it down if he knew even your subconscious was goading you to him.

You think your knees might actually collapse when you make it to your shared bedroom.

He’s sprawled across the mattress, a thin sheet covering his lower half, wings splayed gorgeously over the bed. His hair’s slightly damp, curled at the ends from the shower, and his skin looks warm, and healthy, and delicious. Marvellously firm with muscle.

Azriel doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading as your bags drop to the floor and you make a soft sound of disbelief and hunger in the back of your throat. And then you’re clumsily stumbling forward, crawling onto the bed, easing yourself between his sheet-covered legs. Falling onto your front, pressing yourself onto his ass like it’s the comfiest pillow you’ve ever come across.

It’s only then he shifts, peering over his shoulder, and you can practically imagine the smug grin on his lovely mouth seeing you finally give in. You suppose it’s not like you made a secret of your desire, but still…

Arousal builds across your body, hunger finally breaking you as you lift, prowling up his figure. He looks like he’s about to get up, so you swing your legs over his hips, keeping him pinned to the mattress. You know he could easily lift you with him, but he settles back down, a sound like a purr rumbling from his chest.

“You’re being rather dominant, wife,” he drawls, shifting so he’s comfy. You snarl softly, fed up with his teasing, setting your hands between his shoulder blades, then running them lightly to the base of one of his wings. His muscles shift and contract beneath you, rippling as your fingers skate up lightly.

The tension seeps from him as you reach the dip beneath the first joint of the powerful limb. His skin heats and a quiet groan spills from his lips, needful and soft. It’s so rare something like this happens, but it seems he’s had a long day, too, and is ready to be taken care of. You couldn’t be more relieved. Dread to think how things would have gone if he’d had the energy or the will to deny you any longer. He seems to get off of refusing your pleasure, sometimes.

You shift closer, so you’re straddling his upper back, rolling your hips down languidly from time to time, basking in the slow build of warmth. Slow, because you both have the time to indulge. Slow, because you’re in no rush. Slow, because you have all the time in the world and right now, you want it with each other. To find pleasure in the other’s body.

Leaning forward, you attach your open mouth to the ridge of his wing and he shudders, a deep, drawn-out moan purring into the silence. The sound urges your hips to roll down a little harder, basking in the delicious and firm press of hot muscle beneath you. Teeth nip, and your fingers graze those spots you’ve had memorised since the first time he’d allowed you the pleasure of touching him like that. It’s rare enough he lets you look after him, rarer still he accepts direct comfort to his wings.

You’re not sure how comfortable he is with that vulnerability. You’re mated, married, and joined in every way that counts, but you’re not going to pretend that you share absolutely everything with one another. There are still times the two of you will just sit in silence, mentally recovering from whatever trials have gotten you down that day. Plenty of times where you’ll spend a few hours apart, just to get out of the house. And it’s wonderful that way. To be comfortable enough to trust and know someone will to come back to you even after you’ve put a line in the sand…

Your tongue flicks out, dragging up the dip of bone, grazing over the powerful muscle that flexes beneath your tongue. His breath catches softly, and you pull away. Groans roughly as he falls away from the edge, but doesn’t fight for it, content to enjoy the edge.

Pulling back, you brush your thumb once more over the sensitive skin of his wing, and a sharp breath exhales from his lips. You shuffle down his body, pushing away the sheets as you go, leaving him entirely bare for you. It takes every ounce of willpower he’s instilled in you over the years to keep from pushing his legs apart right then and there and moving your mouth to your pleasure—hopefully his, too.

Instead, you tap his hip twice, lightly, then grip his side, urging him to roll over. He sighs, but turns obediently, knowing it will benefit him in the long run, wings pulling in tight as he switches onto his back. Then your mouth is opening over him, tongue flicking over the bead of moisture nestled in the slit of his tip.

Azriel moans softly, back arching as colour dusts his cheeks, fingers gently threading through your hair, raising his hips. You press a kiss to his tip, licking up the underside of him, watching as his eyes flutter closed and those quiet sounds of pleasure start becoming more regular.

He tugs lightly on your hair, and you take him into your mouth, hand gripping his base as you pump what you can’t fit. He hisses with pleasure, brow furrowing then evening out as he rolls his hips upward, gasping softly when your throat contracts around him. Again, you pull up to his tip, hand stroking him firmly but not roughly—not this time. You flick your tongue once again over his slit, pressing another kiss down, before you’re urging his bent legs further apart.

A slightly startled moan slips from his lip as you press your mouth low on his inner thigh, working closer to where you want to please him from—giving him the chance to stop you if he doesn’t yet want to try it. But his skin is warm and clean, smelling distinctly of soap and himself, and your mouth is watering.

His spine arches as your tongue circles the tight ring of muscle, flicking over then pulling away to kiss the surrounding area. His hand has released your hair in favour of the bedsheets, fingers gripping hard as you continue pumping him. He twitches, and you pull up, giving more attention to his cock.

Azriel’s shadows have joined you, grazing over his inner wing with silky softness, helping you work him to the steadily budding orgasm that will leave him hot and trembling. The darkness flicks over his gleaming chest, swirling over his nipples, making him pant. His eyes are still closed, plush lower lip caught between his teeth and you again dip down, pleased with his reactions.

You circle the tight muscle again, pumping a little harder, moving in time with the gentle roll of his hips. Your tongue pushes inside, and you hear him inhale sharply, bucking into your hand. He’s close, and now that you’ve again gotten him to the edge, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

How could you, knowing he’s receiving pleasure everywhere he can be? In all those intimate, sensitive areas?

Your tongue flicks over him again as you squeeze him deliciously, just the right side of painful. His shadows flick and swirl, and a deep, rich moan is pulled from between his lips, spine arching enough to tip his head back into the plush pillows. He twitches again before he releases, hips bucking in time with the waves of pleasure, hot cum spilling from his tip, spurting up onto the firm planes of his toned stomach. You keep pumping until his hips begin stuttering, and then you’re easing your pace, softening your grip as he becomes infinitely more sensitive.

When he’s done, thighs trembling, panting softly into the sex-tinted air, you raise from between his legs. Lick your lips when you see the mess he’s made of himself: hot, milky liquid gleaming on the sweat-slicked muscles of his stomach, shifting and glistening in the light with his breathing. The perfect dessert.

You crawl forward slowly, careful not to ruffle him too much, tongue lolling out as you begin lapping up the creamy liquid. His hand again finds your hair, stroking gently as you hum, drinking him up. It’s only when you’re certain you’ve licked up every drop of him that you prowl up his body, until you’re on top of him.

He’s still flushed, and offers you a lazy smile that sings songs of his satisfaction. “And here I had just gotten out of my shower,” he murmurs over your up-tilted lips. You smile gently, enjoying him being the one fully naked, for once, “I’ll change the covers tomorrow, husband.”

Azriel smiles up at you, lifting his head from the pillows as he brings your mouth down to his own, soft lips slanting over your own, tasting himself on you. He groans quietly, shadows and fingers already working deftly to remove your clothes. As soon as they’re gone, and you’re gloriously bare, he’s pulling you down on him, hot skin pressing flush together.

His shadows hook beneath the sheets, pulling them up and to cover once his wings have curled over you, keeping you tucked into his chest. The heat and warmth quickly lulls you to sleep, the two of you pulled under in a matter of minutes. Breathing deepening and evening out as you fall together, wrapped in each other’s scent and warmth.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

[akirathedramaqueen]

Did the crowd's hatred outmatch Blitzø's?

Christ on a stick indeed, Blitzø.

This question, which our beloved imp had kindly raised himself, has been bothering me since the 'Apology Tour' came out.

I've seen plenty posts speculating on this topic, and it's not going to be a super unique take, I admit, but I would still like to think aloud about what that party really symbolizes.

Is it the true extent of Blitzø's tendencies to hurt anyone who dares to reach too close? Or was it exaggerated by Verosika?

Let's see what evidence we have on hand and make some assumptions about what that could mean.

A quick note of appreciation before be begin: I sincerely admire the amount of work done on detailing the crowd at the Halloween party. Just look at the progress in animation they've made since the 'Queen Bee' episode! From animating three-four people max to drawing almost each character separately, and giving basic movements to many of them.

(tumblr, your 10mb gif restriction sucks ass. I struggled to show just how good these animations are with such a limited size)

Wow, my hat's down, I am in awe.

But okie, let's go.

The avoidance

It would be silly to deny that Blitzø has issues forming meaningful, deep connections. He is afraid of affection, of love. We've seen this with Stolas. We've seen how hurtful, brash, and aggressive he becomes when offered vulnerability and feelings, how deep his distorted view of the world runs. During the Full Moon tryst, he is so terrified that he is completely deaf to what has actually been said, and he lashes out violently, scorching everyting along the way.

We also know Blitzø is extremely horny and finds comfort in sex, while being too scared of emotional attachment and craving it just as much. Given this, is it really surprising to see more people affected by his demeanor?

Take Verosika, for instance. He dumped her by running off after she confessed her love, leaving her to pay for a hotel room, stealing her car, running three Rings to Wrath, and maxing out her credit card on shitty horse riding lessons.

Then there are some people we don’t know who are visibly destroyed by their time with Blitzø. We know nothing about them, but simply observing their distress and Blitzø’s reactions is enough to draw conclusions.

We can endlessly sympathize with Blitzø. We understand what he has been through, why he behaves the way he does, and how much he still suffers. However, this does not give him a carte blanche to ruin the lives of those around him. The show does not glorify him as a poor, misunderstood figure—instead, it poignantly exposes how insensitive he has been to other people's feelings, and shoves it in his face immediately after he damages another relationship that, as we know, he actually held dear.

I mean, from some points of view, even Dennis, who only made out with Blitzø, could justifiably be deeply offended and scarred by his insults...

...

...

...

Wait... fucking DENNIS is here?

The hatred

Okay, something doesn’t add up. This was supposed to be a party for those whose hearts were broken, not for whiny bitches who couldn’t handle one little insult that’s quite common in Hell’s environment!

Ugh, thanks, Dennis. Now we need to untangle the other side of the mess, because it’s clearly not so one-dimensional anymore. But fuck you still, you fucking suck (affectionate <3 you actually slay).

So, what’s going on? Let’s take another look at the crowd.

For starters, Tex, baby, what are you doing here? Didn’t you say her beef ain't yours? Why the fuck are you involved? Did she pay you to be a backup for Stolas and passionately repeat 'motherfucker,' referring to someone who arguably did nothing wrong to you?

And aren’t those succubi and incubi from Verosika’s Spring Break entourage? Lads and lasses, did Blitzø fuck up your bleeding hearts too, or are you just hanging out at the same places as Verosika?

Fucking Wally selling hate merch? Blitzø, look at me—do you remember him in your bed? Or, maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t give two shits and is just capitalizing on a quick profit opportunity?

Blitzø doesn’t remember everyone from that party; he admitted that at the very beginning of our discussion. He recognizes some of them though, but doesn’t act particularly sorry...

As much as I’m willing to believe and admire Blitzø’s stamina to fuck that many people, I don’t think he’s had enough weekends in his adult life to meet, charm, have intercourse with, and dump all of them. The math just isn't adding up.

But he never questions whether the crowd was genuinely hurt by him or if they just came as someone’s friend or to participate in a thrilling experience of hating on someone they might not even know. Hey, those piñatas, darts, and fire pits look quite fun, don’t they? It almost seems like they don’t care about the implications—literally bullying someone and taking joy in it.

So, could Verosika be a little too obsessed with building the image of Blitzø as an irredeemable, ruthless, and atrocious imp, to the point of letting just about anyone in to exaggerate the extent of the real issue? Perhaps even doing it quite intentionally?

What the actual hell?

Before you get lost in my elaborate attempts to make my point, let me draw three conclusions from what we’ve seen.

Conclusion one: Both statements are true.

We’ve learned that not everyone in the crowd was hurt by Blitzø. However, even if we narrow it down to just the confirmed cases—six in total (Stolas, Verosika, two crying demons, and two demons Blitzø acknowledged before insulting them again)—it’s still a significant number. It’s enough to start questioning Blitzø and encourage him to change, as this harmful tendency leads to nothing good. For Stolas's sake and for his own, too.

Conclusion two: Blitzø entirely belongs to this party.

His spiky, insufferable attitude he shows to others is actually, from some point of view, this:

He is so adamant that he doesn’t deserve love that he deems all the affection shown to him as a lie. So he pushes away, snarls, insults, and attacks. Because how dare you love such a monster? This can’t be true; this is wrong!

It is himself whom his hatred is directed toward.

He should be an honorary guest at this party, a fucking star invitee. No one can fucking beat him in the craft of hating on himself.

And the crowd, which he didn’t even attempt to challenge, is just a showcase of what he thinks he is. It represents what he actually isn’t, considering we’ve proven that some of the people there have nothing to do with him. It’s an exaggerated, untrue reflection of his worst ideas about himself.

Conclusion three: Verosika's obsession with bullying Blitzø is unhealthy.

Yes, even considering her good intentions to help those who suffered because of him.

Just as the crowd reveals Blitzø’s extent of self-loathing, it also highlights her inability to move on and the persona she has created for herself. She is wholly engulfed in it.

While we now understand her point of view and where she is coming from, it doesn’t excuse her for organizing the bully party, stalking Blitzø and his partners… Seriously, how invested do you have to be to learn about the breakup after just one night? Or to even know who your ex of 5+ years (allegedly, we don’t know for sure) dated to begin with?

Lady, you need to put away your booze and get yourself together. He acted horribly, no doubt, but the effort you’re putting into trying to prove he’s a motherfucker just isn’t worth it.

This isn’t the solution. People are either still hurt or just enjoy hating on Blitzø, but they are simmering in hatred nonetheless.

They are not healing, and neither is Verosika.

A closing note (yay?)

TL;DR (should be at the beginning, really, but who cares): Everyone in this show needs some fucking therapy. Mental health sucks ass in Hell (wonder why?). And bullying also sucks. Don’t be bullies. Thanks.

Okay, class, put away your notebooks and put down your pencils. The homework will be to find some anti—and... why the excited, shimmery eyes? *gasp* No, don’t bully them. Have you learned nothing from what I've said? Move on. Block them. Because #stolitz will be canon, and nothing will change that, so let them whine somewhere else.

Thanks for your attention! <3