#but I think it's because she hasn't been active much

[nixnbob]

THIS. This was one of the best scenes for writing and acting (to me) around heartbreak. Actual, real, shredding heartbreak. Whether you see it as platonic or otherwise. It felt so real. Like it really tapped back into the energy from the Fishes episode.

Especially to open the season with them reconciling and Carmy literally telling her that's what he wanted. He wanted them in the kitchen. No dysfunction. How she opened up to Claire while her dad was in hospital and everything pouring out about needing consistency, while her one piece of it lies in a hospital bed. And how it had felt like her and Carmy were starting to get that.

And the conversation with Carmy's mom. After all of the set-up each season around Sydney and Carmy's partnership and then like, when she felt it like a gut punch, so did we as viewers. She had chosen him over Shapiro and the Bear over anywhere else. And then... It was *chef's kiss*...

Hell of a way to end the season. Hoping there's another, but we'll see. I don't hate Claire, I just feel like she's a bit of a nothing character. She's just kind of there. And I feel like they've constantly gone well out of their way to have every character tell us 'how amazing' and 'how awesome' she is.

Like, so is Sydney, but they really haven't shied away from showing us her flaws either. Or any other character in the show. Sydney feels REAL. To the point it feels odd with Claire that they're not showing her flaws, or at least trying to actively tell us as viewers that there's no flaws, she's perfect.

Selfishly, I want another season just to finish a few arcs off, as it feels unfinished at the moment:

- It feels like Carmy is burnt out and has never had freedom to reconnect with what he loves in a healthy way. And that's why he's noping out if things. I see him trying to retire and it not really being possible for him. Especially with the chat with Sugar around how he had such a spark with it. Maybe he gets a few episodes of just cooking to enjoy it, or travelling again with some of the chefs that cared about him and helped him develop.

- Ibra's sandwich franchise is teased as maybe a bigger plot point for another season. Why have Unc and Albert only almost meet?

- What's going in with Unc and his money. Downsizing by choice or was there more going on?

- The (food and wine?) review hasn't been published, the one the guy called Sugar about.

- Frank, Tiff and Eva haven't visited the Bear yet. I would love them all to see how far Richie has come and for Tiff to tell Richie how proud she is of him. And even sweeter would be if it came from Eva, because she can see how together her dad is now, compared to where he was at the start of the series.

- The guy that came in the restaurant on his own and asked for a Beef. Was he another reviewer? Are we ever going to get an answer to that? It feels a little weird to focus in on him like that, more than with other guests.

- Whether there's something more going on with Donna. Felt weird to have Lee just say something hinting at it as a throwaway line.

- If they're hunting a star, maybe that's one of the main drivers for the next season and it would feel amazing after everything the characters have been through, if that's how they ended.

- There's a suggestion Carmy and Claire have reconciled, but they haven't really shown them back together-together. Maybe Claire is who Carmy thinks he needs, but then with her finishing her residency she'll surely be even busier now? Maybe they try to make it work and he sees how much she loves what she does, but how she can't give that up just for him. I feel like that might be a way to explore where their relationship is going.

I dunno. I just think Sydney deserves to realise her dream and Carmy deserves to be happy. And I don't think either of them are quite there yet. IMO it's being hinted that where things are heading, they might get there. But let us see it. Please.

Anyway, this was meant to be a short post and has now turned into something with paragraphs 😅.

i got shot a million times

[biographydivider]

If I'm going to write Date Everything Smut, I had to be a little mean to the air vent 😏 you know he'd be into a lil' voyeurism...

You tumble into your bed with the object of your attraction for the night - it doesn't really matter who, they're all beautiful and willing and you're having so much fun - and above you, in the vent, Hector burns.

He doesn't blame you, of course. The glasses you wear are called DATEviators after all. You're allowed to have fun and take pleasure from other objects. And you've only spoken to Hector twice. How are you to know the depth and ferocity of his feelings towards you, much less understand it? You're not exactly official, are you?

But still. Still. A black tide of longing and pain and, yes, jealousy has swallowed him whole, as he watches you pull another towards you, your mouth smiling and warm and eager to be kissed. Every sigh and giggle and breathy, murmured word is a knife dragged across his skin.

But he doesn't leave. He doesn't retreat back into the attic to lick - don't think about licking - to lick his wounds and have yet another hour long conversation on the power of Flirtilizer with Prissy.

He stays. He stays because there's a flush creeping up your throat and he wants to see how dark it will get. He stays because now he knows that the trace of a fingertip along your ribcage makes you squirm and it's a new layer of detail he can add to his own fantasies.

He stays because oh god, you look so good and you sound even better and what if this is the closest he ever gets to seeing you come undone?

Beneath him, clothes are starting to be shed. Hector chokes off a sound in the back of his throat as your underwear is tossed to the floor and he sees you naked for the first time. He's always been respectful before this - alright, so he'd mess with the heat and spend a fun hour drooling as you walked around the house in your bra, but that didn't count. He'd never peeked as you got dressed in the morning or crawled into bed at night. But now it's different. Now you've spoken. Now his desire for you is ignited beyond anything he'd ever let himself imagine before. He used to wonder if he was obsessed with you, in quieter moments. Those feelings seem like a passing crush now.

He's so hard. Hector slips a hand between his hips and the unyielding surface of the vent.

The other object - he doesn't know them, his social circle is really just Prissy and Fantina when she visits the attic in the winter - is between your legs now, coaxing adorably soft whimpers of pleasure from you. Hector closes his eyes tightly, tears burning at the corners, as he curls his fingers around his cock. He tries to time the strokes to the rhythmic sounds beneath him and hates himself for it. But oh - it's you. Perfect, unattainable you. How could he not touch himself, now that he knows you sound like that?!

This is torture. It's agony. It's the best he's ever felt.

There's a sharp intake of breath. Hector cracks open one eye. Your companion is on top of you now. Your legs are spread, and your moans have become throatier. Hector bites down on his lip until he tastes blood.

You're so beautiful. So perfect and beautiful and he wants you so, so much and this feels so good, if only he could lie next to you in that bed once, just once, if only he could know what it is to taste you and touch you and look into your eyes as you --

Wait. Why were your eyes open?

Hector freezes. The, um, activity in the bed hasn't stopped - the other object has their face pressed into the crook of your neck, hands in places Hector would sell valuable parts of himself to touch. But your eyes are open and clear. And you're looking right at the vent.

Hector's heart is suddenly in a vice. He made a mistake..he got too confident, after years of lurking and longing in the walls, and now...

You were never going to talk to him again, were you?

But just as Hector decides to go back to the attic and attempt to drown himself in whatever cleaning agents you've left up there, you moan again. Ragged and low in your throat. And your eyes lock onto his. A jolt of pleasure, as potent and painful as lightning, grips him.

There's confrontation in your eyes. I know you're there.

And a confession. I like it.

A plea. Don't you dare stop watching.

And, finally, a promise. This is what it will be like with you.

Hector hisses sharply through his teeth, rutting into his hand as you begin to tremble underneath the other object. His face flushes as hot as his highest setting, and he knows he should be embarrassed at getting caught. But your eyes are still on his. The other object in the room is inconsequential now, merely a way for you to show Hector what you want from him. You're so clever to think of this, so perfect. God, he loves you. He'd watch you fuck every object in the house if it meant you looked at him like that every night.

You stiffen, and the eye contact is broken as your head is thrown back against the pillows. You groan, low and deep and feral, and Hector winces as his own orgasm tears through him hard enough to make colours dance in front of his eyes. He lets out a happy, dazed breath, flopping down onto the vent as he watches you shiver and laugh and kiss the other object in thanks.

That was...and you were...and he...

Oh my god he just got off watching you have sex with someone else.

What if he'd imagined the connection between you two? Of course he had - what normal person would take someone to bed on the off chance of a third party spying on them? What if this was just a perfectly normal night of friendly sex for you and your companion and he made it very, VERY weird by projecting his own nonsense on top of it?

What if he was still here when you were done and you had to HAVE A CONVERSATION ABOUT IT oh god no he needed to leave.

Weeks later, as the two of you lie in a breathless haze of your own post-coital bliss, you'll turn to him and ask, in a faux-seductress' tone, if the sex was as good as it looked from up in the vent. And Hector will turn bright red and bury his face in the pillow with a whine, and you'll laugh and shower his neck with kisses and call him your adorable little pervert and no, actually, Hector will realise; this, right here, is the most perfect torture imaginable.

[fandom-hopping]

Rescue drones and the wolf squad

So in a post I made before I talked about some head canons I had with Khan and his possible drone type. I wanted to expand a bit more on what I think the rescue drones could have been like. And how Uzi is affected by it.

First basic physical traits. Rescue drones are taller and stronger than the standard assembly drones. With larger hands ending in claws to better grip and climb. They're designed durable to survive the harsh weather that can and will be encountered when rescuing lost hikers and climbers. Khan is a type of leader drone, being a bit larger than the others in his squad and programmed with the wolf squad system source. In a sense he's the main 'host' that the system connects to.

Each squad usually consisted of five drones and five 'mounts'. The mounts were animal-based robots resembling sentinels. Though these robots were designed for the elements and assisted in rescuing humans. Khan's squad was that of the wolf. And his faithful companion was named Admin, the link of the wolf system and conductor of Khan's signal.

The ranger system in some ways resembles the solver. Depending on which squad it's coming from, the symbol takes a different shape. For Khan, it becomes the head of a wolf. Khan hadn't been connected to this system in years due to it being shut down shortly before the humans went essentially extinct. The wolves and other squad mounts remained dormant within their cabins for years.

Each squad has a different rideable sentinel.

Deer squad

Wolf squad

Bear squad

Each drone had a mount and sometimes a sled if need be. Usually used to carry back injured humans. These sentinel mounts were essential in the rescue operations. Working in sync with their drone riders. Different squads helped with different tasks.

Bear squad carried rations and medical supplies for quick on-site care. The bears have large compartments on their arms and stomache for for this purpose.

Wolf Squad are the front runners. They're sent out to find the missing people as fast as possible. Often carrying sleds to bring them back if possible.

Deer Squad is a general backup for both parties in case one needs extra assistance. All-rounders who both carry supplies but move fast.

(I currently only have the concept of the wolf sentinel sketched)

Now this is where Uzi comes in. When Khan decides to pay a visit to the old station, she comes too. Wanting both to keep him safe and learn more about his past. After showing her the wolf cabin and explaining their purpose, she's determined to find out how to re-activate them.

After doing so, things start getting odd. Khan hasn't been connected to the wolf system in years, so he needs a minute to get used to it. Once the systems are active so are the sentinels. When returning to the wolves, Uzi is linked to the system through admin. This is only possible because of the latent code khan passed down to her, much like Nori and the solver.

When the wolf system is active her solver is forcefully made latent. She has no access to her solver or her wings. Since her tail is a separate entity, it stays active despite the solver becoming inactive. What she does have access to is the map and trail data. Paths marked out on maps and with all the landmarks and trails Khan had added since the disassembly invasion started. Within moments she has real tangible history of her father's path escapades with her mother.

The secondary is riders vision. When riding on one of the wolves their vision view changes to that of the wolf sentinels. A world of black-and-white grids with trails and fellow sentinels lined in neon glow. Every step creates a colorful wave that makes the gridded landscape more clear. Copying the map data into a beautiful neon landscape.

The third and most surprising effect is that which it has on cyn. When Uzi connected to the wolf system, something seemed to happen to her. Introducing herself as serial designation C. freed from the solver's influence while the wolf system is active. C is much more bubbly, naive, and playful than Cyn. Uzi eventually starts to call this version of her 'Cynthia' and has vowed to try and get her separated from the solver for good. As Cyn does return when the solver does.

Uzi herself is still a normal assembly by model. She only inherited the wolf system code. But she did find schematics for the search and rescue drones within the same tower the system switches were in. So there's a chance for more to be built/upgraded in the future. Perhaps even adding some upgrade aspects to herself.

(Some doodles of Uzi with C/Cyn)

I'll probably iron out these ideas in the future and add/change details. For now, here's something to chew on.

[motorsportbarbie13]

The Yapping Hour is Upon Us

In which Max decides that maybe doing interviews isn't such a bad thing.

Warnings: jos verstappen mention ew Pairing: Max Verstappen x Podcaster!Reader Word Count: 2.5k plus social media posts

Series Master List Main Master List

TheYappingHour posted:

349,219 likes liked by redbullracing, charlesleclerc, and others TheYappingHour Back at it this week with a very super top secret special guest. I simply can't wait to reveal who's on this weeks pod, you guys! You're going to DIE. (peep the clue in the second picture!) user928 her podcast set up is so aesthetic i can't user0928 RED BULL??? what does this meeeeeean??? >>>user1211 she hasn't done a ton of athletes in the past, maybe she got one of the Red Bull athletes!! user00291 DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN. (shhh let me be delulu for a minute) >>>user221 as much as i'd love that, we all know how much Max hates interviews.

There was absolutely no reason why having Max Verstappen on your podcast should be making you this nervous. You’ve interviewed actual heads of state, a former president, and royalty for crying out loud and you’re losing your mind over Max fucking Verstappen? You supposed it came from the fact that you had spent most of your childhood traveling from track to track to watch your dad race in NASCAR, racing was in your blood and you knew how revered and idolized Max was. And how rabid his fans could get. You wanted to get this interview right. Needed to get this interview right. Motorsport were still a huge part of your life, even if you weren’t really outwardly an active fan. You never missed a NASCAR or F1 race and while you considered yourself a Ferrari girlie, Red Bull was most certainly your second team. 

“Everything ready?” Your assistant Shannon pokes her head in as you fluff the last throw pillow on the cream colored lounge chair. Scanning the room, everything looks to be in order. The two overstuffed chairs dominate the center of the small recording studio, each with a microphone set up on a small side table next to each chair. Instrumental versions of Taylor Swift songs floated out of small speakers tucked away and a few candles burned in the low light of the studio, creating the exact ambiance you were famous for. 

You’d been doing your podcast, The Yapping Hour, for nearly five years now and it was now one of the most popular podcasts being produced. You specialized in relaxed interviews of people that the general public don’t get to see relaxed very often. Your big break had come about 3 years ago when you had somehow managed to land an interview with Michelle Obama, her episode was still the most streamed episode of yours to date. Everyone had fallen in love with your interview style, how you got these normally highly media trained individuals to drop their guard down a little and be real for even just an hour. It gave people such a unique glimpse behind the curtain of fame and your fans ate up every bit of it. 

“I think so!” You nod, smoothing down the front of your boyfriend cut jeans even though the denim is perfectly ironed without a single wrinkle. 

“Good, because he just pulled in the parking lot.” Shannon smirks. She knows how nervous you are for this interview and is insisting it’s because you have a crush on the driver. Which would utterly unprofessional if it were true. But it wasn’t true. At all. “And he’s driving this matte black Aston Martin.” She closes her eyes as she bites her lip, smirk growing even wider. 

“Okay, let’s cool it on the hero worship.” You warn, following Shannon out into the lobby of the building. 

 Outside, it’s a dreary late April morning in the heart of downtown London. You had traveled from your home base in New York City just for this interview but had been surprised at how much you liked the ambiance and energy in the city. So much so that you had extended your stay a few extra weeks. The good thing about being your own boss of a podcast was that you could literally work from anywhere you had your laptop. 

Peering out into the parking lot, you’re surprised to see a lone figure in jeans and what looked to be a Red Bull windbreaker, hustling across the pavement towards the door. When he approaches the door, Shannons steps forward to open the door, a gust of wind whipping at your hair when Max comes bustling in through the doors. 

“Hello!” Max’s voice sends involuntary shivers down your spine, a feeling you fight hard to shove down. This is not the time to be a fan girl, you remind yourself. 

“Hi Max, thank you so much for joining us today! Can I get you some water or maybe some tea?” Shannons steps forward first, extending her hand. 

Max takes it and gives her a wide smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Water is fine, thanks.” 

“Max, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” You step forward then, the heels of your black Louboutain’s clicking on the hardwood floor as you approach him. It takes every ounce of focus you have not to react at what feels like a white hot spark flickering over your skin when his hand touches yours for the first time. 

“Pleasure is mine.” He murmurs, cat like smirk replacing the warm smile that had greeted Shannon. Your social media did you absolutely no justice and Max was finding it hard to keep his composure you were so pretty. 

“Are we waiting on anyone else or is it just you today?” You ask, eyes darting above his shoulder to see if there was anyone still in the parking lot. 

“Why? Will I be needing my body guard today?” He quips as he follows you towards the recording studio.  

You pray the dim lights in the studio hide the way you’ve gone pink. “Of course not! It’s just that normally the people I have on the show travel with an…entourage.” 

“I don’t like people.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe. “I prefer to travel solo. Besides, I’m no Queen of the Netherlands or Justin Trudeau, I don’t really need an entourage.” 

He casually drops two of your biggest interviews like it’s nothing and you feel the pink tinge of your cheeks heat to a crimson red. “You’ve listened to the show then?” 

He nods, taking the seat you offer him as Shannon and your AV guy Steve bustle around getting things set up. A bottle of water appears for each of you and you take out the pages of notes you’ve made even though you’ve got all the questions memorized. You like to be prepared and prefer your interviews to be more conversational, less question and answer. 

“I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” His eyes hold this glint of mischief that if you were less of a professional, would have you biting your lip and kicking your feet. Truth was, Max had spent an ungodly amount of time on your socials and wikipedia page, obsessing over you and your career. 

“And yet you still came.” You tease.

“I did.” He says simply and you can’t help but notice how his gaze briefly drops from your eyes down to your lips and quickly back up. It’s so quick that if you weren’t in the business of watching and observing people, you probably would have missed it. But those baby blue eyes of Max’s are so easy to read, all you can do is grin back at him. 

“Well, thank you for making the trek into London today. I do appreciate it.” 

You briefly explain how the interview is going to work, how Steve is going to make sure everything is set up and recording, how you’ll post audio and video versions and that he can have final say in anything that goes in or stays out of the interview. You’ve found that a lot of your guests appreciate that little clause and in the five years you’ve been doing the show only a handful of bits have been kept out. You like to think it’s because you’re good at what you do and get people to open up on a level that they feel comfortable with. 

Steve finally gives you the okay and you settle into the cozy lounge chair, Max sitting comfortably in the one opposite you. 

“Thank you again for joining me today, Max. I’ve got to admit, I was a little surprised when your manager said you’d agreed to come on the show. You don’t do a lot of lengthy interviews and I could only find a handful of podcast appearances over the years. So, why The Yapping Hour? Why now?” 

Max takes a sip of water before placing it on the table beside him. His shoulders are relaxed, his ankle sitting on his knee is a causal pose. You’ve become a veritable body language expert since starting the show and you can already tell this is going to be a good interview. 

“I like your style.” His blunt answer throws you off for a moment and your cheeks heat. Again. You make a mental note to make sure they edit your complexion in post production to take the blush out. “GP sent me the one you did with Dale Earnhardt Jr a few months ago and I was impressed at how authentic you were. Dale is a character but you got a lot of depth out of him. Your questions went beyond the typical ‘what’s your favorite race track.’” 

“Well, thank you. That is quite the compliment coming from you.” For the third time in a short time, you blush at the compliments this man is handing out left and right. 

Your eyes flicker above Max’s shoulder to where Shannon and Steve sit, their smug faces tell you that you’re not imagining him flirting with you. 

“I have to tell you, I went karting with a few friends in prep for this interview and oh my God, I’ve been sore ever since! I can't imagine how hard an F1 car is on your body. Talk to me a little bit about your training sch-…”

“You went karting as research?” He interrupts you, face a mask of disbelief. 

Now it’s your turn to smirk, “Of course, I like to know what I’m getting myself into.” You toss him a wink and enjoy the way your stomach flips when his ears go a bit pink. “My dad beat me by almost 20 seconds and I don’t think I’ll ever hear the end of it, but it was worth it. I can see why so many people get hooked, it was so fun.” 

“Karting with a NASCAR legend had to make it a little better though, yeah?” 

“You know my dad?” Your brows nearly hit your hairline, you’re so surprised at this. Your dad had been long retired before Max had come onto the racing scene and there wasn’t a huge overlap in fan bases between F1 and NASCAR. 

Max nods, “He was racing around the time Jos was in F1. I still remember that one Daytona 500 where he stole the win from Earnhardt Jr on the last lap after he’d led for the entire race.” 

You tilt your head back laughing and Max thinks it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever heard, fully entranced by the long column of your neck that’s suddenly exposed. “Oh God, dad is going to die when he hears you know about that race.” 

“Have either of you been to an F1 race yet?” A plan begins to form in Max’s head. 

“No!" You lean forward to swat at his arm playfullt. I’ve tried a few times but it’s always fallen through. I do watch most of the races though, as long as my schedule permits. Sometimes it’s easier when you guys are in Europe because the races are so early in New York, it’s easy to watch them from bed on Sunday mornings.”

The image of you wrapped up in a fluffy duvet wearing nothing but his t-shirt as you watch him race nearly sends Max into orbit. He blinks furiously, trying to get that vision out of his mind so he can pay attention to you. 

“Tell me this then, if you could pick any garage to watch the race which one would it be and why would it be Red Bull?" 

You can’t help that laugh that explodes from you then and Max preens under your attention, smile stretching wide across his handsome face. “You know, I could have sworn it was my name on the podcast Instagram page.” You tease, giving him a wink. “You keep asking me questions, I’m going to be out of a job, Verstappen.” 

“I can’t help it when the interviewer is much more interesting than I am.” He murmurs, taking another sip of water without taking his eyes off of you.

The rest of the interview continues on for the next two hours and you get so much content you feel a little dizzy at the thought of having to cut over half of the episode. For the first time in the podcast’s history, you may have to split this into two episodes. Max doesn’t mind one bit, finding that he’s not as nervous as he thought he’d be with how easy he finds it talking to you. 

You wrap up the interview over an hour past the time you had told Max’s press officer it would last but neither of you make any movement to get up, despite both Shannon and Steve beginning to wrap things up. 

“I’m so sorry I kept you this long, Max. I know you’re not a huge fan of lengthy interviews.” 

Max just shrugs, “If all interviews were like this, I probably would say yes to a lot more of them.” 

You grin over at him as you rise, realizing the sun is setting outside and your stomach is aching for food. Max follows suit, although he feels a clench in his stomach realizing that his time with you is coming to an end. 

“Can I ask you something?” He says when Shannon and Steve walk out of the studio, leaving the two of you alone. 

You look up at him and nod earnestly, “Of course!” 

“Why didn’t you ask me about my childhood? Usually it’s one of the first things people ask me, especially in these kinds of interviews.” 

You shrug, face heating at being found out. “Like you, I do my research and I figured you might not want to talk about that part of your life. I want my guests to feel comfortable when they come on the show, not immediately put on the defensive. I guess I thought there were other more important topics…” 

Your words hang in the air, heavy between you two. Something in Max’s chest aches at the simple kindness you’ve extended him. It’s true, he doesn’t like revisiting his childhood very often, especially when it’s recorded and will be put on the internet. His dad was very much still in his life, obviously, and while he had done a lot of work to move past his childhood, it was still painful to talk about.  

“Thats…wow. Thank you.” Is all he can manage, voice thick with emotion. 

“Of course.” You murmur, reaching out to touch his elbow in what you hope comes across as a comforting gesture. 

Max’s eyes drop to where your slender fingers rest on his bare arm before a smile stretches back across his face. “I know it’s kind of last minute but you were saying earlier you’d never been to a race. We’re in Miami next weekend and I’d love it if you were my guest…” 

You can’t help the flutter in your chest at how nervous he appears standing before you. Your eyes dart over to Shannon, the official keeper of your schedule and are delighted when she nods vigorously, phone in hand with your calendar already pulled up. You made a mental note to give that girl a raise ASAP. “I would love to, Max.” 

“Yeah?” He sounds almost shocked that you had agreed so quickly. 

“Yeah.” You say, a hint of a giggle at the edge of your voice. 

“How about I take you out to dinner tonight and we can work out the details.” 

“Why Max Verstappen, I had no idea you were this smooth.” 

TheYappingHour posted

987,392 likes liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, susiewolff, and others TheYappingHour SURPRISE! Part one of my interview with none other than 3 time F1 world champion Max Verstappen is live on all socials RIGHT NOW. (yeah, I said part 1! We both yapped so much you're getting a part two next week!) user9382 the chemistry between these two was OFF THE CHARTS >>>user111 ikr? i felt like i was interrupting something the entire hour. MaxVerstappen1 it was a pleasure meeting you! can't wait to see you in Miami this weekend! >>>user2999 MAX WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T WAIT TO SEE HER IN MIAMI. >>>user999 stfu she is so coming to the Miami race?? MAX EMILIAN VERSTAPPEN. user3210 has she ever done a two parter before??? not even the Queen of the Netherlands got a two parter!! user9928 i don't think i've ever seen Max this relaxed during an interview EVER. >>>user222 seriously! He was like a little boy with a crush then entire time.

yourpersonalinsta posted

234,100 likes liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, michelle obama, and others yourpersonalinsta we yapped some more and stuffed our faces. til next time, maxie! (tagged: maxverstappen1) user999 not michelle obama herself in the likes maxverstappen1 you're going to be trouble in miami, aren't you? >>>yourpersonalinsta what do you think? ;) >>>user9932 oh my godddddd user028 this is the couple i didn't know i needed

tag list (some of you only requested to be on a series tag list but i am not organized enough for that. lmk if you want to be removed!! also fingers crossed this tag list works this time ffs. sorry!)

@anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months���but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his��eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[dexxtrosee]

Safekeeping

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch x f!reader

Summary: A baby got to the ER thirty minutes ago and hasn't stopped crying since. It's starting to get on everyone's nerves. He is, unfortunately, the one in charge, so it's his problem to deal with.

A/N: Set a few months after the last episode of The Pitt's S1. Mind you, this was supposed to be me testing the waters with the fandom and instead I got dunked, I just can't get this man out of my head. Oh well. Part one, I guess?

There´s a baby crying two rooms away from the one he’s at. 

The baby hasn’t stopped crying in thirty minutes, a world of difference from the case Robby is currently using as a teaching lesson for Santos and Whitaker. He doesn’t need to be a genius in emotional expression to notice she’s bored to death, while Whitaker seems relieved to be away from an immediate life threatening situation for once. He won’t admit it, not even to Dana, but he is using it as both a punishment for her and a break for him. He barely got between her and an abusive mother just a few hours ago before they drew blood. He managed to save Santos from being escorted out in cuffs along with the mother by sheer force of willpower and some favors owed by the cops.

And he won’t say it to her either, but if he were thirty years younger and a tad more stupid, that would have been him. She doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Are you a smoker, miss Rossi?”

The lady, a seventy year old woman who insists on them calling her miss, because she’s “divorced, dammit”, shakes her head and turns to look at her granddaughter. Robby can practically hear her thoughts (Can you believe this boy?) and has to bite back a chuckle. 

“Do you, by any chance, often cook on firewood?”

Miss Rossi shakes her head again, this time with an added eye roll. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

Whitaker is starting to play with his hands, glancing nervously at the granddaughter and at Santos. The boredom seems to have eased a bit, now replaced by amusement from seeing the poor boy suffer. Robby doesn’t interfere. 

“Have you done strenuous activity recently?”

At this, the teenage girl sitting by her side perks up, glancing at her grandmother with pursed lips. Robby smiles when Whitaker catches it and latches onto it like a starved animal. 

“Maybe cleaning around the house? Too long walks? Heavy lifting?”

Miss Rossi finally seems to think about it. Santos starts fidgeting where she’s standing, checking her watch. He suppresses a sigh and writes a mental note about mentioning it to her. The baby hasn’t stopped crying. 

“Well, I went with the kids to the park this morning. Had to chase them around when they grabbed the youngest and put her inside the basket of one of the bikes! Can you believe it? Those fuckers.”

They all let out some chuckles and sighs of relief. 

“Are you from Allegheny, miss Rossi?”

She nods, smiling for the first time since they both got here. “Born and raised, boy.”

Robby nods at him, giving him a thumbs up. Santos tries to hide her own smile. 

“Alright, seems you can handle this one.” Robby glares briefly at Santos, and she nods with so much annoyance he shakes his head. “I’ll go check on other cases, call me if anything happens.”

He doesn’t wait to see the answers, just steps out and walks straight to the room with the crying baby. 

Before he enters, he notices Dana standing inside and talking softly to, he assumes, the mother. She has her back to him, shoulders shaking and head hung low. Samira and McKay are bent over a cradle. A hole inside his stomach appears when he notices how anxious they both seem to be. 

“Good morning, I’m doctor Robinavitch. What seems to be the problem here?”

Dana turns, frowning and looking at him like he’s the worst thing to happen to her today. He reels back slightly, tries to peek behind her back. She shakes her head, motions him to fuck off. 

McKay doesn’t move. Samira stands up straight like he just pulled her back string, nervous. “All good, sir. We can handle this one, no worries.”

Robby frowns, bites back the need to tell them all off. “Well, that poor thing hasn’t stopped crying in more than half an hour. Are you sure?”

McKay waves at him from her bent position, shaking her head furiously without actually turning to look at him. 

Without saying anything, he turns to Dana again. She sighs, lets go of the mother’s hands and pushes him out of the room with no explanation. Before she closes back the curtain, he tries and fails to catch a glance at the mother.

“What the fuck is going on?”

He loves Dana, he truly does. Still, sometimes he wishes he could work with someone less hardheaded. He has enough of it in himself.

“She doesn’t want any men near her baby.”

Robby tilts his head, frowns deeper. “Should I call the cops?”

Something inside him burns and itches when Dana shakes her head. “They’re already aware of anything worth reporting.”

Robby nods, clenches his hands. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when the baby lets out a louder cry. “What the hell is wrong then? They haven’t figured it out yet? Should I bring Collins here?”

She’s busy dealing with a broken leg from a teenage boy that got too excited with his skateboard, but the cries are starting to get on everyone’s nerves, he can see it. 

“Maybe you should, yeah.”

“Fuck.”

He turns away, walks to Langdon and grabs him away from the nurse bay. He doesn’t protest, hasn’t since he came back last month. It still weirds Robby out. 

“I need you to finish Collins’ case, she has to help out with a different one.”

“I can do it,” The need for approval drips from his words. It still twists Robby’s chest. He shakes his head, doesn’t explain, pushes him inside and motions Collins out with just a smile to the parents.

“Need you to help in Room Two, I’m sorry.”

She gets it immediately, smiles softly and nods. She’s trying again, Robby knows. Still, he’s tried his best to keep her away from any babies. 

When they go back, Dana steps out and grabs Robby. He lets her lead him to the corner between rooms, crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere near the baby unless it’s completely necessary, I know. What now?”

“She wants to talk to you.”

The mother, he guesses. He nods, interlaces his fingers and then unthreads them when he notices how tense he feels from it. 

“Just… be gentle, Robby. She looks six seconds away from throwing up out of stress.”

There are so many things he could say to that. Instead, he just nods. Dana goes inside, doesn’t come out again.

When the mom steps out, the first thing that crosses his mind is “wow, holy shit”.

Then he starts berating himself because, holy fuck, what the hell was that?

You take a few steps closer to him, playing with your fingers, and cleaning a few stray tears away from your face. His hands twitch by his sides.

“Hi.”

Dear God, take him now. Warmth spreads all over his chest when your voice reaches his ears. 

“Hello,” he starts. He has to clear his throat before continuing. “Dana mentioned you wanted to talk to me, I’m doctor Robinavitch. Or Doctor Robby, if you prefer.”

You nod, trying and failing to smile at him. “Nice to meet you. Are you… like, the boss around here?”

He nods, unsure of how you may react. He doesn’t notice any disgust or annoyance, but there’s no positive reaction either. He relaxes his shoulders and makes sure to leave his hands visible. 

“Indeed I am. What can I do for you?”

He has to hold his breath when you raise your head to look at him straight to his eyes. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck-

“Can you make sure no male nurses or doctors come near her?”

Irrationally, he wants to sit you down and make you spit out any and all information about your baby. Why you seem so scared one second and ready for combat the next, why your eyes are so pretty, why you don’t let him near the babygirl.

Instead, he just nods, asks softly “Is there anything or anyone we should be worried about?” 

You shake your head, give him a satisfied smile that seems to pull the ground from under him. “No, not anymore.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He feels lightheaded, unsure of where he stands. You tilt your head slightly, then jump when Collins comes out. He realizes now that the crying stopped. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but can we have a word?”

Your face falls. It makes him irrationally mad, wants to twist the world around until you’re smiling again. He doesn’t move.

“What’s wrong? Is it serious?”

Collins puts her hand on your hand in an effort to comfort you, shaking her head. He glares at her hand like it personally offended him. “Nothing serious, it seems like she just had an allergic reaction to formula. Could you tell me which one she's taking?”

It’s almost like he vanishes into thin air as soon as there’s something related to the baby anywhere near you. You turn around, back to him while you pull up a picture in your phone and show it to Heather. She nods and smiles, letting you know it’s nothing too bad. He notices your entire body relaxing, and the tips of his ears turn red. 

“So what should I do at home now?”

The anxiety you exude makes him tense, almost angry. He’s bothered by not being able to get an actual look at the situation, relegated to talking to you only and away from what seems to be the center of your universe. He takes a deep breath to try and push out the uncomfortable feeling of uselessness.

“We would like to keep her here, at least for today just to keep an eye on how she reacts with different formulas, and maybe give her some fluids in case she’s dehydrated.” Heather’s voice is tender, gentle in a way he’s not sure he could manage now, not after so many years of hoping it would help and seeing it turn people into aggressive maniacs. 

But you just nod, pocketing your phone before turning back to look at him again and knocking the air out of his lungs. 

He's sure he's earned his year in Hell when faint excitement blooms as he realizes you'll be around for a few hours. He doesn't understand what's happening, why he's acting like a teenage boy with a crush or a fresh student handling his first case with an attractive person. Fuck. Fuck.

“Can you make sure the people from other shifts respect what I ask?”

He’s already mentally preparing his speech for Jack. “Of course. And I’ll see if we can keep you here along with your baby, just to be safe.” 

You beam at him, and once again, he feels like the Earth tilts under him. “Thank you, doctor Robby.”

He notices Dana staring at him from inside the room, grinning.

Oh, he’s absolutely fucked.

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

AO3

[appleshy-king]

with few exceptions i don't ship any of the m6 with any of the princesses but I wanted to challenge myself and do exactly that; I combined a bodyguard au and an arranged marriage au and came up with this! - an au where bearing an element of harmony comes with a union to one of the princesses, and serves functionally as both a spouse and/or adviser, and a bodyguard.

been calling this either the harmony marriage au, or the elements of marriage lol

Rainbow immediately addresses the elephant in the room and all but volunteers to form a union with Luna; something she does partly to prove she isn't afraid of anyone or anything, but also because… look man she said she was sorry and she's gonna start her new rule with everyone against her - someone has to be there for her. Celestia especially approves of this union, as, even if these marriages are largely political, the element of Loyalty would make a true companion for a pony like Luna. Despite that, I think their start would be difficult, given all the ways the two are opposites… but ultimately flying by moonlight is just as nice as flying during the day, and the long stretches of peaceful nights give them plenty of time to get to know each other.

Cadance solves the unbalanced issue and forms a union with both Pinkie and Fluttershy. There's no limit to virtues that are compatible with Love, but Laughter and Kindness just have that little something extra that catches her attention, nevermind how stinkin cute they are. All three take to their new marriage well. It’s especially helpful that Pinkie and Fluttershy have a pre-established friendship that could easily remain platonic, or turn romantic or queer-platonic; there’s also the fact that Cadance herself was once a humble pegasus raised by earth ponies before being thrust into this royal life, which could be why they caught her eye in the first place. 

(Shining is still here, as someone needs to train these girls in the art of guarding, and their relationship is still active (although PinkieShy would not be considered his wives); bc if there’s one thing I’m going to do with the princess of love, it's show off some poly pride!)

Twilight would, at this point, ““have her choice”” between Generous Rarity or Honest Applejack; either would be fitting for her new title as the princess of Friendship, and both are good ponies who she could rely on. However, given just how much Twilight’s life is about to be upended with new, well, everything - ultimately Rarity turns out to be her best match. She’s generous with her patience and tact in a way AJ isn’t quite, and more importantly she understands the ins and outs of the high class, making her a real asset in Twilight’s transition to royalty. Nevermind that the two were maybe already a little smitten before their union even took place…

This leaves Applejack sort of “auto-paired” with Celestia. At first Applejack seems like a horrible choice for a princess who is practically a queen, given how very little she knows about this life, and the way the upper class look down on her, but it ends up that her more open/harsh honesty that would have maybe been too much for Twilight in her new role is actually perfect against Celestia. It takes Applejack a bit to learn how to hold her tongue in royal public but she learns to play the game in her own way, and her willingness to speak openly and bluntly with Celestia - in private - is so refreshing to Celestia, who hasn't had a pony tell her like it is in ages. That said, i think this learning curve takes quite some time to even itself out, and in the beginning they spend a lot of their marriage clashing with each other, though ultimately i see Applejack as a respectful enough horse that her southern charm does just that, charming the princess in a way she couldn’t expect.

The six are still all friends with each other, although given the sister pairs some of them see each other more often; Twilight, Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy are a bit closer in that sense, while Applejack and Rainbow consider each other best friends. I’d be willing to say maybe something is going on between them, if i didn’t think that went against what the element of loyalty stands for, but there’s definitely rumors…

[hasnomoxxie]

Could you tell us more about Dan from Levity Rises?

YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME AB LEVITY RISES

I recently updated the designs for them so I'll talk ab them all if you don't mind :]c

I'll add the most information on Dan though just for you bbg!

I do plan on making a few screenshot redraws (and potentially an intro animatic because an awesome person actually made a theme for this au)

THE MYSTERY TWINS ⇆ THE ORIGINAL MYSTERY TWINS

Stanley and Stanford Pines take on the roles of Dipper and Mabel! Stan's curious and is the more mystery focussed one whereas Ford is more energetic and active than his base counterpart.

Stanley is an adventurous young boy, looking for the next interesting trip to go on, initially thinking spending the summer at Levity Rises was going to be a waste of time. Though after arriving and finding the scrapbooks alongside the anomalies happening across Levity, he and his brother quickly became obsessed with finding out the secrets of the Rises, as well as who the mysterious Smile Pup(swapped with bill cypher) is.

Ford (often going by 'Six' or 'Sixer) is a happy go lucky and optimistic young child who is alot tougher than his base counterpart was at his age. Since it's typically only just been him and his brother, so he's eager to make the best of his summer by meeting new people, though he hides his polydactyly with gloves he changes frequently.

DIPPER ⇆ STANLEY

Dipper takes the role of Grunkle Stan in this au!

Owner of the mystery shack, Grunkle Mason- or (Big) Dipper to people around Levity Rises- is the resident faux scientist of the town. His personality is more eccentric, tending to get hyper fixated on paranormal paraphernalia, to the point in where he does lock himself away for periods at a time.

Not much is known about his origins, he just kind of always existed on the outsidea of the town, but after opening the shack to the public, people quickly accepted his presence due to his quirky personality.

MANLY DAN ⇆ SOOS

Dan actually takes the role of Soos in this au, being the resident handyman of the mystery shack! Though often the lines blur between his role and Wendy's from the original. Wanted to keep it flexible yk?

Dan's a real dude's bro, pretty dim witted and blunt but often chill and level headed- Unless he's challenged- dude's competitive as hell, it's actually crazy. His mother, dubbed 'womanly wendy', is the toughest lady in town, owning a diner, aptly named 'Wendy's'.

Dan enjoys working at the Shack as it's one of the few places that'll let him freely experiment with his logging with the nearby trees for his own projects and adding fixtures onto the shack, which Dipper is pretty thankful for since he can focus his efforts on other things. It's also because of this reason that Dipper puts up with Dan's outbursts and semi airheaded personality. So it's safe to say, he's there the majority of the time.

Stan admires Danny alot and the events of 'Into the bunker' happens with Dan in place of Wendy. This does mean Stan had a passing crush on Danny during the episode, but even afterwards Stan kind of puts him on a pedestal. Ford enjoys Dan's company often being called 'little man' and playfighting on occasion. The twins act like his little hype men and he enjoys hanging with them.

As for Soos in this au, he initially built the mystery shack and is frequently seen around Levity Rises taking on odd jobs and making people as happy as they can be, though it's implied that he hasn't found his true calling yet.

LAZY SUZAN ⇆ WENDY

Lazy Suzan takes the role of Wendy in this au! Hazy Jane is a part time worker at the mystery shack, and is stan's first crush upon arrival to the Rises. She's a bit of an odd soul with a less than perfect memory, but is incredible at making a homely environment for the shack. Despite that, she can be extremely co-dependent in some situations, especially with her boyfriend. Otherwise she's earnest and does her best at her job. The events of 'Soos and the real girl' occur with Jane instead of Soos (and Rumble instead of GIFanny). Despite wanting to help, Stan is incredibly pouty throughout the episode.

Here's the design line up as well as initial notes I made when redoing them!

Hope this answered your question about Dan :]

RAUGH THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING THOUGHHHHHH

(EDIT)

SOMEONE SUGGESTED A BETTER SWAP FOR BILL, I JUST HAD TO ADD IT!

(EDIT EDIT)

I'm fixing wording and stuff so it's easier to read soz :p

[szqnxi]

|| Make...Love?

Shoto Todoroki x reader

Tsuyu hosted a sleep over at her room and all of Class 3-A girls are invited.  Obviously, a sleep over won't be complete without fluffy cushions, games, gossips and a special mention of Yaoyorozu's tea.

You guys have been playing truth or dare for a while, it's just you and Uraraka that hasn't got their turns which makes you uneasy. You honestly don't know what Mina would ask you to do and you've already seen the things the girls did. One thing's for sure, this woman is scary.

"So...... Izuku right?" Mina asked as she turned to Uraraka who's face is now turning bright red.

"I don't like where this is going" Uraraka replied, trying to hide her flushed face in the palm of her hands, which activated her quirk, causing her to float around the room.

Mina giggled a little maniacally at Ochaco's words. In her head, she's thinking of all the things she would have her do, but you know she won't torment the poor girl that much. The pink haired removed "truth" as a choice because according to her, that's no fun at all. The girls agreed, including you, which you kind of regret now.

"So the dare is--" she paused, thinking for a second. "You need to send Midoriya a selfie. You can't tell him it's for a dare tho" this made Uraraka groan as she sat back beside Jirou. 

"Oh! You need to ask his opinion about your new necklace as well" Hagakure added and Yaoyorozu agreed. The girls gave each other a high five while Uraraka let out a defeated sigh.

She opened her front camera and positioned the phone above her head, tugging on the chain slightly. She showed us the picture before sending it to Izuku. The picture was rather suggestive in your opinion; the angle made her necklace pop up, but the top part of her bossom is visible in the background, it didn't help that her face is a little red in the photo as well.  

Uraraka:    *Sent a photo* 

                   Deku-kun, what do you think of new my necklace? 

                                                                   message delivered

 

"Now we wait" Mina cheerfully said and turned to you "You've been awfully quiet y/n" you can't help but to notice that grin plastered on her face and you know damn well she's up to no good.

"Let's get this over with" you told her with a sigh. You just wanted to quickly finish whatever suffering she's going to put you through.

Jirou pulled out her phone, searched for something before handing it to Mina. While they were busy discussing something, you nervously turned to Momo who's currently adjusting the eyeglasses he took from Iida "Can I back out?"  but she just gave you a cheeky smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Goodluck" 

Momo was the first one to be dared; her dare was to walk up to Iida, grab his glasses, wear it in front of him and walk away without saying anything. Tsuyu was dared to sit on Shoji's lap for 20 minutes. Hagakure had to confess on her long time crush, Ojiro, and lastly, Jirou was dared to shower Denki with praises for 10 minutes straight. Mina, on the other hand, was dared to kiss Bakugo on the cheeks, and you can already guess what happened next.                                                         

A phone was shoved into your line of sight. "You need to do this" Mina said while she pointed at the phone with a video playing. You look at her horrified but she just laughed at your face. 

"But with who?" Tsuyu asked.

"Todoroki" Uraraka grinned. 

"Yep. Definitely Todoroki." Jirou crossed her arms and nodded while her eyes are closed. 

You looked at them confused.  Although you do have a  crush on Shoto, you have never told anyone about it nor show even a slight interest at him. You can feel your face heat up at the sudden realization that your friends knows about your little crush on him all along. 

You sighed in defeat and just accepted the dare. What can possibly go wrong, right?

"We'll be watching" Mina winked at you as you guys marched towards the common area where the boys are hanging out. The girls stopped by the stairs, peeking a little. You made your way towards the couch where Kirishima and Shoto are sitting.  

"Yo, y/n" Kiri greeted you and you just replied with a nod.

You sat beside Shoto who was munching on a chocolate chip cookie. He offered you a piece which you happily took and ate beside him. 

"Oh this is good! Who made this?" you asked.

"I made it" Shoto turned to you. "I asked Kirishima and Bakugo to teach me" you nodded and quickly look away. You quietly scanned the whole room; Kiri and Shoto are minding their own business eating the cookies Shoto made, the Baku-squad are playing a video game while Izuku and the others are playing a monopoly game, though Izuku isn't really playing, he's just staring at the screen of his phone, looking very red. 

You can't help but to chuckle to yourself. You quickly glanced towards the girls and Mina mouthed "now". Unbeknownst to you, Kiri was also looking at the girls direction, when your eyes landed on him, he gave you a confused look and you just replied with an apologetic look. His mouth turned into a circle when realization hits him.

'A game huh' he mouthed and you answered with a nod.

"Shoto" you turned to him.

"Yes?" 

"Can we--" here goes nothing "make...love?" You can see Kirishima choke on his cookie in your peripheral vision.

"Make love?" he asked, confused. 

You nodded. You can feel your face heat up. You looked away, not wanting to see the look on Shoto's face, you mentally wished that the couch would swallow you up because of the embarassment you feel.

You don't know what Shoto's response will be, but knowing him, you're sure he'll be nice at least. You mentally braced yourself for a rejection you're about to face. Or so you thought.

"Sure, but do we even have the ingredients for that?" 

"What?" You and Kirishima said in unison. 

Shoto looked at you two, confusion visible on his face. 

"This is the first time I've heard about that dish" he stated. Kirishima snorted and finally let out the laugh he's been holding for so long, while you bit your inner cheek to hold back yours. Shoto on the other hand, ignored the red head and called Bakugo instead.

"Bakugo, can you send me the ingredients for love?" he asked as he pulled out his phone and started searching for the dish called love. 

"What the fuck, Icy-Hot?!" Bakugo yelled, his eyes landed on Shoto, his face looking like he just heard the stupidest thing in the world. This took the attention of your other classmates as well.

His gaze left his phone, he quickly looked at you then at Bakugo "Y/n said they wanted to make lov-" you hurriedly jumped from your seat to cover Shoto's mouth. 

"Ah! Oh my gosh don't mind him! It's a dare!" You half shouted.  Your classmates just laughed at you, you can feel your face heat up due to embarrassment. 

'Screw you Mina' you thought to yourself.

"Didn't know you're freaky like that y/n" Denki teased you. The others gave you a teasing look as well.

"It's a dare!" You shouted in horror. 

"Sure, if you say so" he and the others laughed and get back to playing again. Kirishima, who's laughing with the others, stood up and bid farewell to the both of you. "I'll leave you guys to your own business" he said with a wink. 

You just sighed. You're pretty sure all of your classmates will be teasing you for the next few days. 

"Y/n" Shoto mumbled under your hand. 

You quickly removed your hand from his mouth and apologized. "Sorry" you said awkwardly as you sat back on your spot again.

He just hummed. Silence took over the both of you. You quietly glanced towards the stairs and the girls are nowhere to be seen. They must've gone back to Tsuyu's room. You contemplated whether to go back to her room or not. 

You let your eyes wander and it stopped at his phone, a search tab was open and it was an article about "make love". You turned to face Shoto, you opened your mouth to explain about the dare, but before you can say something, he pulled you by the collar of your shirt and gave you a peck on the lips. 

You stared at him, wide eyed.

"I can't exactly give you what you want right now but I'm pretty sure a kiss will suffice?" he said.

"Wha-" he kissed you again. This time it was longer, until it was interrupted when a throw pillow hit the back of his head. 

"Get a room you fucking dumbasses!!" it was Bakugo. 

Great.

You gave him a middle finger and was about to talk back when Shoto pulled you away from the scene and lead you towards the second floor. 

"Where are we going?" you asked.

"Getting a room" he opened the door to his room and shoved you inside.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to give you what you want after all" he smiled at you and locked the door.

|| Masterlist

Note:Request box is open, pls pls pls drop someeeeee. I'd also appreciate anon comments/interactions so don't hesitate to reach out!!

[foone]

AAA games? Pfft. Indie games? Double pfft.

I only play games from the alternate history where Hillary Clinton was elected in 2008 and banned all video games. You can only imagine how weird their underground gaming scene is. People like to call unlicensed games "bootlegs" but they've got actual bootlegged games! I've played games about helping your grandmother in hospice care realize she's a lesbian by reading Sappho to her, at 2am in a speakeasy in Baltimore. The cops raided it the next night, hundreds of Gamers were arrested. They posted pictures all over Friendster of the Baltimore PD destroying the arcades with axes.

I nearly got busted once because I was imaging old disks from a 386 and someone tipped off the gaming cops that there was a copy of Commander Keen in there. I had to prove that I didn't know it, I was imaging the disks blind and then indexing them later, and I would of course turn over any contraband to the proper authorities.

I was already on a watch list because I'd been known to have some gamedev-related activities pre-ban. They can't arrest me for making games back in 2007 when it was still legal, but they do want to keep an eye on me since I have the skills to break the law.

Anyway that universe's bootlegs are mainly PC games. Can't really have console games if there hasn't been a console release since the Wii/PS3/360 era. At one point Nintendo threatened to release the Wii SDK so game devs in the US could make unlicensed games, but that didn't happen as there were quickly no functional Wiis left in the US, except for very rare holdouts that never move. PC games are easy to distribute samizdat and hide on a USB stick or CD-R labeled "nickelback".

Japan's games industry is still going, so the later Nintendo and Sony consoles still exist, but Microsoft got out of the business of course. They sold the franchise to Sega who were hoping to release the 360 successor (the Xbox One in our universe) as the Sega Phoenix but it never materialized, either through their own financial incompetence or because of pressure from the US. There's a lot of international treaties that the US has pushed "and this aid only goes through if you ban games" clauses into. That would have been an official UN resolution if the USSR hadn't vetoed it. For once, thank God for the security council, eh?

I mainly get my gaming news through Japanese gaming sites (through a set of VPNs, since they're blocked at the border firewall), and some tor onion site run by a weird guy in Minnesota who is obsessed with documenting all the underground US games.

There's a lot being worked on, but it's always a tricky trade off. Too much attention and the police might be able to track down the creators, and it's basically impossible to fund underground games, as the VISA/PayPal etc funds get seized immediately. There's a whole task force for that.

Anyway one of the weirdest differences between our two time lines is that they've gone back and edited out gaming from a bunch of movies. Those that they can, of course. War games was just banned because they couldn't remove the tic tac toe ending. The Net just removed the scene at the beginning where she's playing Wolfenstein 3D, by recording some new screen footage and a new voice over. She's fixing a spreadsheet in the new edition.

(Yes, I've seen The Net from this alternate timeline. On Laserdisc, of course. I'm just that kind of person!)

They even edited Star Wars. You know that scene where R2-D2 is playing holochess with Chewie? They edited it to be a board game instead of holograms, because that made it too "video gamey".

Technically it's not illegal to show gaming in a movie, but it needs to be an 18+ film and you have to show the deleterious effects of gaming and/or the gamesters coming to a bad end.

This has affected films less than you'd think, to be honest. They were never great about showing video games even before they banned them.

Anyway, go have fun playing your AAA games with hundred-million-dollar budgets. I only play indie games made by people under a constant threat of arrest for their art.

[winkofcharm]

Spinning, Spinning, Spun - Chapter 3

Uhhhhhhhhhh

I'm sorry it's short and kind of jumps around,

but I think you'll love this anyway. tw: blood, swearing

batfam x reader [platonic]

[previous] Stephanie and Damian find the private jet easily enough. It’s in a private hangar at a New York airport, hidden away from public view. From the outside, it looks normal. Not a thing out of place - no signs of forced entry, of a struggle outside. It isn’t until Damian activates the biometric scanner and opens the door that they find anything wrong. 

The smell of rotting copper and iron hits them full force. Stephanie is grateful her mask muffles the smell, Damian doesn’t have her luck, and as used to the smell of blood as he is, still finds it too much. However, it’s not just the smell that is too much, it’s the amount as well.

Brown blood, well oxidized, is soaked into the carpet, into the curtains, into the chair by the far window - where it has not soaked in, it has splattered. There are still bright red spots, but only where there is so much that it hasn't yet dried. It is not simply a crime scene, but a horror show. 

Damian moves quickly to look for clues, even if it means stepping into a puddle of your blood, he is determined to find anything he can that may lead to you. The chair at the far window is your favourite place to sit, he knows, from your many snapchats from that exact place. No doubt it was where you sat when the attack began, as the blood outlines a body of your size. Beneath that seat he finds his first clue, your phone. 

It’s dead, likely having been for several days at least, but if he charges it, he may find some sort of idea or hint as to what may have happened. It’s unlikely you wouldn’t have at least tried to call for help, and he hopes you may have tried to describe your attacker in such an emergency plea. 

Stephanie has moved towards the cockpit, the jet is pilotless, fully automated, but there are cameras aboard - just in case. They’ve never really had reason to look over them until now, and she hopes that whoever took you didn’t know about them. Her hope is dashed, when she realizes the cameras had failed. The few moments of footage were of you, sitting quietly as the plane landed and pulled itself into its dedicated hangar. You were on your phone, texting or scrolling, just getting ready to unbuckle and stand when it cuts off. 

It’s a clean cut, no static, just a cut to black. There is no sign of who approached the jet from the outer camera, and no sign of you being assaulted on the inner one (which is both a relief and a pain, she didn’t want to see you getting hurt, but then, at least, she would know who did it). 

Damian is still in the rear of the plane when she hears it - sirens. All approaching quickly to their location. They need to move quickly, lest they be caught, and investigation hindered. They move as quickly as they can, taking with them your phone, and leave, disappearing into the night - back to Gotham. 

Stephanie can’t help but wonder, how, or rather, why, the police were only showing up now. At this exact moment. Why had they not come earlier, but rather once the scene was disturbed? Had it been a trap? A trigger of some sorts they had unknowingly pulled, that had called them? She doesn’t know, but she will find out.

Tim has no idea who you are. He knows of you, knows about you, but knows nothing of who you are as a person. It’s usually an easy job, finding out who holds a grudge against who, but with you it’s nearly impossible. He follows internet trolls, paparazzi reporters, your fellow celebutantes, trying to find anyone that may have hated you, may have held even a drop of enmity - but there’s nothing. He’s used to stalking people, it’s what landed him the role of Robin, after all. He’s able to find out anything, about anyone. 

You… you are a perfect mask. Even better than Batman, he surmises - because he was able to track down and identify Batman. He cannot identify you. 

There are no scandals, no rumours, no drama or fights or fallouts. You seem to be exactly what you appear. A wealthy philanthropist with a side job of modeling for haute couture brands. He tries to dig deeper, moving on to shitty celebrity gossip blogs that exist only to throw mud - and still, there’s nothing. Perhaps Babs did her job too well, and wiped a little too much from the internet regarding you. 

Speaking of Barbara -

Oracle: Check the news 

The ping drives him to do as she commanded, and he is overwhelmed immediately. 

“Wayne Heir Missing!”

“Gruesome crime scene at centre of Wayne Heir disappearance!”

“Cover up? Wayne family silent as Heir missing for days.”

The headlines are flooding in, and with them come your fans, your friends, your coworkers - all saying the same, that they miss you, hope you’re found safe, that they haven’t heard from you in days but thought it was just a brief get away. In minutes, your pages are flooded with concern - and Tim knows immediately he’ll be in for a long night when his own social media starts getting attention. So does Bruce’s, Dick’s, Damian’s - everyones is starting to be overrun, but unlike the kindness that pours onto yours, he sees the vitriol first hand. 

The public is demanding to know why nothing was found earlier, how you could be gone for so long before they noticed, how could they go about their daily lives without a shred of despair regarding your disappearance. Did they not notice? Or did they not care?

Wayne Enterprises and Drake Industries stocks are already beginning to plummet. He’s getting calls from every member of the board of each company, the free-fall and ramifications are piling up, and he’s doing his best to ignore the outside world. He’s trying to focus so hard on finding you, that he almost blocks out the alarms.

Reporters are flocking to Wayne Manor, newspapers and tabloids, from The Daily Planet, to the sleaziest of sleazy mags. He tosses his phone aside, and rubs his hands on his face. He and the others had hoped to keep this under wraps, out of public scrutiny for as long as possible and yet, in the 24 hours they had known you were gone, the secret had already been blown. 

Tim groans as he pushes away from the Batcomputer, and heads up out of the cave to the main Manor - he’ll have to change, something dark to impress how seriously he was taking your abduction. Bruce is with Dick, dealing with the Red Hood stuff, and Damian is still heading home with Stephanie, so Tim will have to be the one to release a statement. 

What will he even say? 

“Yeah, no, we had no idea they were gone, and could be dead??” Especially if that amount of blood in the pictures Damian sent over was all yours. “Sorry, I know we look like besties online, but I have no fucking idea what happened?” Not like he had actually laid eyes on you in the month leading up to this. “Half the time I forget they even exist, so how was I supposed to notice???”

Alfred waits for him in the foyer, as Tim puts the finishing touches on his suit. Best to play this as formally as possible, best to lie his ass off and hope no one calls him on it. 

Alfred’s eyes are rimmed in red, he hasn’t cried, but he wants to. A stiff upper-lip, Tim thinks, is expected of the man. He wouldn’t blame him, however, if he did cry. Alfred was the closest to you, and everyone knew there was a special bond there. The older man was always extra gentle with you, gave extra care and attention - perhaps to make up for what the rest of them didn’t give. Tim does feel a little guilty in thinking that Alfred’s distress will make whatever snake oil he’s about to sell easier for the press to buy. 

They walk side by side down the long drive that leads from the Manors front gates to the actual building itself. The crunch of their footsteps slowly being overwhelmed by the chatter of the reporters waiting for them, and Tim is temporarily blinded when they finally spot him and start snapping pictures. He keeps walking forward, until finally he is in front of the grand gates, with only a few feet between him and them. 

He waits for the rapid fire of first questions to die, for the cameras to start rolling and pictures to stop clicking, before beginning his address. 

“We were made aware yesterday of the disappearance of one of our own -,” Tim starts, “We have since been made aware that they may have been gone for longer than initially thought. Currently we are working with the police and investigators as they work towards finding them. We are certain they will be found soon, and brought home, and only ask that whoever did this comes forward and releases them.” 

It’s an automatic speech, one he’s practiced, but never thought he’d have to ever give. Sure you’d been taken before, they all have, but usually that was solved and you were home within the day, long before any of this sort of attention was demanded. 

“We ask that you give us our privacy at this time, and allow us, as a family, to work through this. We appreciate your concern, and please rest assured, that the police are doing all they can.” He finishes his statement, and the flurry of questions and cameras starts up again. It’s only polite to answer a few questions, and will project a better image of the family to do so. He scans over the crowd, trying to decide which reporter he will answer when his eyes land on a familiar face. 

Lois Lane stands beside a cameraman for The Daily Planet, her face set in a frown as she listens to Tim speak. She’s met you several times, mostly in passing, but enough to know that whatever happened to you is bad, really, really bad. You’ve always been kind to her, and sweet to Jon whenever he visited Damian. Clark had even brought you home once for a meal after a kidnapping, she remembered how you laughed and smiled, how polite you had been - so when she learned that you had been taken, violently, she had immediately volunteered to be the one sent to Gotham. She studied everything she could on her way, including your latest posts and had only one question - 

“Drake, according to their post history, you were the last one to see them -,” She began, but she knew the truth. You and Tim hadn’t spoken in weeks, despite what you had posted. Lois had left her phone number with you the second or third time you’d met, so had Clark, mostly just in case - but you messaged back and forth frequently about little things. 

You’d often send her clips of Jon and Damian together, running about in the back of the grounds, but sometimes you’d ask her questions. Questions that let her know everything wasn’t as it seemed. Questions about what to do when you felt ignored, or unwanted. Things a mother or father should have talked to you about, not an almost, but not quite, stranger. 

Tim ended up dodging her almost-question, made an excuse about how you had met up shortly before getting on the plane but he hadn’t heard from you since. It was enough to plant a seed in the rest of the reporters though. That maybe you weren’t as close as your posts made you seem, that maybe Tim was lying, or you were. It was enough, Lois decided, and she turned back to her cameraman. They’d leave as soon as this impromptu Q and A was over, and she’d be contacting her husband. Maybe he’d be able to help find you, or at least try and convince the Batman to let him help. 

—----------------------------

Jason and Red Hood.

Red Hood and Jason.

His son is alive, alive and filled with rage the likes he has never seen before. Perhaps that is why he took you? For revenge? Another way to throw Bruce’s failings back in his face, to hammer home the point that Bruce has done nothing but hurt those he was meant to protect. He hopes at least that Jason has been kind to you, that your brother may have still held some warmth towards you, despite how he had tried to drive you apart. That Jason may recognize you for what you are, a civilian, an innocent caught in the line of fire. 

He has followed his lost son, to a warehouse where the freshly beaten Joker lies, where his son points a gun at his head, and where you, thankfully are not (but where are you?). 

Jason lashes out, demands his pound of flesh, demands he kill Joker - but Bruce knows he cannot, that if he were to kill, even once, he would be lost in a flurry of violence and death.

There is no perfect time to ask about you, to demand Jason send you home safe and sound - but he does anyway - forces out the words, demands to know where your brother has taken you, and in doing so, he’s made another mistake.

“The fuck you mean Bruce?” Jason demands, “You think I’d hurt them? That’d I’d go after them just to get to you?” He sees Jason get angrier as he talks, as he realizes that Bruce has lost another kid. “You did it again, didn’t you? You fucking lost another one of us! But unlike me, they’re untrained, they’re weak, because you left them defenseless, and now look at what you’ve done!” 

Jason doesn’t have you, never even thought of using you against him.  Joker didn’t take you, he had been in Arkham up until this final confrontation. He doesn’t have time to ask anything else about you, not when the clock is ticking.  Bruce refuses to kill the Joker, and Jason escapes, leaving him alone. 

Joker is brought back to Arkham, and he turns his comms back on, and is overwhelmed immediately by all that has occurred outside his crusade.

You are still gone.

Joker doesn’t have you. 

Jason didn’t take you.

The police are swarming the jet.

Reporters are flooding his driveway. 

The internet is rife with speculation, with rumours and tales, some of them pointing towards an inside job. 

He is a failure.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ocean is warm this time of year, the sand almost burns with the heat. It’s unfortunate you can’t get in the water yet, not until the doctor clears you completely. The scab on your stomach itches as it heals, but at least you can go outside with it covered. 

The drink in your hand is sweet, fruity and fresh, just as you like it. A brand new phone, registered in a fake name, in your other hand scrolling rapidly through news site after news site. 

A smile plays at your lips. 

“Damn,” you whisper, “If I knew it would be this easy, I would have gone girl’d them years ago.”

Tag list:

@holybatflapexpert @electricgg @xoyumiqls @holderoflostmemories @sleeptimes @galaxypurplerose @sassam @pearlyribbons @bellelamoon @fortunatelydifferentqueen

@randomlyappearingartist @c4xcocoa @whyiseveryuseenametaken @myjumper

@magdalenacarmila @noone1233nobody @bbmgirll @degenerates-posts

@rinkydinkythinky @ithoughtthinks @rtyuy1346  @s1mppp @yokesmam @cssammyyarts

@overlyobsessivefangirl @paastaboi @dakotali @mysh-lynnn @hai-there-how-are-you

@sadeem575 @lettucel0ver

(please let me know if the tag didn't work)

[skvaderarts]

You guys want to hear something really funny?

I've been slowly showing my almost 80 year old grandma Arcane recently and she absolutely adores Viktor and Jayce, but especially Viktor. She's made me replay the part where Viktor made his speech to Jayce when he stopped him from jumping in season one like 10 times, she loves the "I'm from the undercity" part, she started crying when he ran across that bridge, and she looked physically devastated when she thought he was going to step off that ledge after Sky died and kept quietly repeating "no no honey no" over and over again and looked away from the screen until Jayce showed up and she literally sighed in relief when they started talking. She's actively upset that she can't adopt child Viktor because she said, and I quote "He would have loved Legos" and "has such sad pretty brown eyes". She has started making jokes about the "wait, this isn't my bedroom" line when she goes places in our house (much to my mom's confusion because she hasn't seen the show yet and can clearly tell she's missing out on an inside joke because we keep laughing so hard about it) and every time that Jayce says "partners" she just goes "uh-huh" and laughs a little. It's deeply funny.

Well, tonight I made a joke on a discord call with a friend about Viktor and Jayce and I said "The question isn't IF their fucking it's who's fucking who" and my grandma, in the background, completely unprompted just said "Oh, Viktor is obviously the one taking charge in that situation. Look how he looks at him and touches him. Jayce is a puppy. He's gonna do whatever Viktor wants."

And I don't think I have ever laughed harder at anything she's ever said in my whole goddamn life. I didn't realize she was on team Jayvik THAT HARD LMFAO. My grandma is part of Viktor Nation.

W GRANDMA!

Side note:

She loves the soundtrack. She doesn't understand how music streaming works so I basically had to make a playlist that just plays What Could've Been, The Line, Remember Me, Blood, Sweat, and Tears, and Enemy on loop for her. She likes bass, what can I say lol! She has good taste. I expect nothing less from the woman who wants me to take her to a Hozier concert next year 😭 She also likes What Have They Done To Us and Guns for Hire but said she can't listen to them as often because it makes her too sad lol she's real for that.

... She also loves Isha... She doesn't know yet. She's gonna be so sad.

[littlewriters-posts]

Little Lady - Damon Salvatore x female!reader

Plot: Elena's childhood friend comes to Mystic Falls after her mother ships her off there. They think you're human, until they find out you're not

Warnings: Swearing maybe?

"I'm sorry, who?" Stefan asked with a frown "And why can't they stay with you?"

Elena sighed. Her childhood best friend was moving to Mystic Falls for a year, or was supposed too. The house you were supposed to be staying in had not passed inspection, so was being renovated, which had then been delayed by a year.

"Y/N," Elena said, as if she were speaking to a nine year old "She was my best friend back in elementary, then she was shipped off to England. But her mother is bringing them back here for the year,"

"Why?" Frowned Damon, ever suspicious "And why does she have to live here?"

Elena rounded on him, hands on hips "Because she has already enrolled in school here, and Jenna hasn't got any more room in the house - plus you have like a thousand bedrooms!"

Stefan sighed "Elena, you said she does not even know about the supernatural, you're asking us to keep it a secret in our own home?"

Elena nodded "She'll be with me most of the time, it's really just somewhere to sleep and put stuff,"

Damon scoffed, and Elena frowned at him.

"You are not allowed anywhere near her," she instructed, and his eyebrows raised.

"In my own home?" he asked and Elena rolled her eyes.

Stefan sighed "Alright, when is she supposed to be arriving?"

Suddenly a knock on the door sounded, and Elena bit her lip. Stefan stared at her for a moment, a dawning realisation on his face.

"You didn't," he stated, a disappointed look on his face.

"I couldn't have you saying no!" Elena whined, skipping over to answer the door.

As it opened, both Damon and Stefan stared at you, as if sizing you up for a fight.

You, standing there with two suitcases and a shoulder bag, gave them a large smile, before dropping everything to hug your best friend.

"Elena!" You gasped as she squeezed you "You haven't changed a bit," you teased.

Elena rolled her eyes "And you haven't grown a bit," she shot back and you laughed, before looking up at the taller individuals behind your old friend.

"I'm y/n, it's so nice to meet you," you smile "And thankyou so much for letting me stay here, I won't get in the way I promise,"

Stefan was the first to break, welcoming you in and grabbing both your suitcases. "It's lovely to have you, welcome to the Salvatore home," he said smoothy and you snorted.

"You must be Stefan," you said "Elena said you were sweet - and you must be Damon,"

Damon looked you up and down shamelessly, before offering a wink "Why because I'm the handsome one?" he asked.

Your smile widened "No, because you're the arrogant one,"

"Leave us alone Damon, come on Y/N, I'll show you to your room," Elena said with a smile, grabbing your hand as she showed you where to go. Stefan followed behind, a slight smile on his face.

"This is your room," Elena said "I tried to pick the room as far away to Damon as possible," she added.

You laughed, marvelling at the room slightly "It's beautiful, thankyou so much again," you said, giving a nod to Stefan.

"I'll be downstairs if you need me, just give us a shout," he said as he exited the room.

Elena looked at you excitedly "Come on, you've still got to see Bon-Bon and Caroline,"

The next couple of weeks went rather smoothly, and you had quickly fallen into a routine. You had frowned about how little the boys you lived with ate, (unknowing to why) so had taken it upon yourself to make them both breakfast each morning - which neither of them objected to. You'd then be picked up by Elena, and wouldn't see either of the boys until dinner time, when you would often cook dinner as well.

You saw Stefan quite a lot, since he was dating Elena, but the pair actively tried to keep you away from Damon, something that hadn't gone unnoticed by the pair of you.

Damon had decided he didn't hate you, and he liked you enough not to kill you. You were sweet, in his eyes, and there was something about the way you'd check up on him that made his heart skip just a little bit.

He was sat on the couch that evening, enjoying the peace and quiet without his brother Stefan, when you walked in.

"You eaten honey?" you ask, resting your head on the doorframe.

Damon looked up at you in faint surprise. You'd only ever made food for all three of them, but that may have been because he'd never been alone with you.

"I thought you were with Matt," he said carelessly, flipping through the pages in his book.

You shrug "He bailed, so I stayed in," you say nonchalantly "Now, have you eaten?"

Damon shook his head.

You smile at him slightly, a reassuring smile that he had learnt to mean you would take care of everything. It was comforting, and a difference to be cared about in this way.

"Don't worry, I'll fix you up something - you want burgers or steak?" you ask, calling back as you head into the kitchen.

Damon closed his book, opting to follow you. He didn't know much about you, since every time he spoke to you either Stefan or Elena would find a way to whisk you away.

"Steak," he said.

You jumped slightly, not realising he was now in the kitchen with you.

"Sure," you said sweetly, getting all the ingredients from the cupboard.

"So what brought you to mystic falls little lady?" Damon asked, sitting on the counter top.

You shrug "I don't actually know - my mother said she had a project here, but she's staying in a hotel till the house gets fixed,"

Damon nodded "You liking it so far?"

You pause for a moment, flipping the steak. "The people are lovely," you decided "Though there isn't much to do,"

Damon snorted, and you glanced at him. You hadn't spoken too him much, and were dying to find out why Elena didn't like him.

"What did you do?" you ask. Damon's eyebrow's raised.

"When?" he asked cheekily, a smirk forming on his face "Or who?"

"To make Elena hate you," you say matter of factly "I don't suppose you noticed that she doesn't like to leave me alone with you,"

Damon's smirk widened, the idea of telling you the truth was compelling, just to annoy his brother. But you knowing the truth would put you in danger, and for a reason he couldn't quite place, he didn't want that to happen.

"I'm a notorious womanizer," he drawled lazily.

You snort "Well you ain't got no chance here honey, let me tell you that right now,"

You hand him the plated up steak and fries and he thanks you, heading off into the living room. You look at his retreating figure, a slight smile on your face.

He didn't seem so bad.

Damon didn't know why, but he found himself actively seeking conversation's with you. You were funny, and sweet, and you made him feel human again. Unbeknownst to him, you also enjoyed the little conversations that he would sneak in for, it felt dangerous, and something about that felt so thrilling.

"You seem happier," Stefan commented, eyeing his brother across the table.

"Do I?" Damon asked, unsure of what his brother was implying.

"And to think you didn't want a house guest," Stefan snorted, and his brother glared at him.

"I don't know what you are implying Stefan," he said with a mocking tone, flicking through his book carelessly.

Stefan shrugged "Elena won't let you have her you know, that girl is one of her best friends, and she doesn't like you,"

"Who doesn't like who?" You ask, walking into the room. You were yawning, yet dressed up in a short skirt and heels.

"You sure you're not too tired to go out little lady?" Damon asked teasingly, and you scowled at him.

"Yes," you said defiantly, before frowning at yourself "No?" you then questioned, too tired to know which answer meant going against him.

Stefan snorted, "Come on, Elena's outside," he said, quickly ushering you to the door.

You sighed, knowing full well you were not about to enjoy whatever mayhem Elena was about to throw at you. As much as you adored her, she simply did not understand the word 'introvert'.

You watched Stefan's retreating figure as you glanced back at him. Part of you did want to stay home, and just relax, but the other part was excited to go out with all the people you'd met.

You opened the door, and were greeted with a blonde girl, and a taller more ginger man.

"Oh - hello," you said, blinking up at them in surprise "You friend's of Damon's I take it?"

The man looked down at you, a amused smirk on his face "And who might you be?"

"y/n, I'm Elena's friend. Just moved here a few weeks ago," you say cheerily, swinging your purse over you back "I'd love to stay and chat, but Elena's basically kidnapping me for this party,"

The blonde scoffed.

"Excuse me?" you asked, gesturing for them to move "You can come in if you like, they're just in the living room,"

The man and woman smiled widely, realising that you had absolute no clue who, or what, they were.

"Well thankyou darling," The man drawled, sending you a charming smile "Enjoy your party,"

As you walked past them, you turned, a smile on your face "Sorry, I never got your names?" you ask innocently.

"Klaus," the man replied "And my sister, Rebeka,"

You nodded, "It's nice to meet you," you said, before skipping off to where Elena was waiting for you.

She was dressed in a cute top and miniskirt, and gave a big smile when she saw you. Next to her was Caroline's car, with the two other girls sat in the front seats.

"What took you so long?" she asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes at her,

"These guys wanted to see Damon and Stefan," you said nonchalantly. Elena froze.

"What guys?" she asked nervously, and Bonnie slowly got out the car.

You, utterly oblivious, shrugged "I don't know, they said their names were Rebeka and Klaus," you said, pulling at the handle of the car door.

Elena gripped your wrist "Did you invite them in?" she asked seriously, looking at you dead in the eye.

You suddenly became very nervous, having never seen that fearful look in Elena's eyes. "Er...maybe?" you said smally "I thought they were friends of Damon's!"

"Shit," Caroline said, biting her lip, before looking at her two other friends.

"We gotta go back for them," Elena said, glancing over to where the Salvatore house sat, just a little walk away

"Wait, who were these people?" you asked, looking at your friends for an explanation. They all glanced between each other before nodding in a silent agreement.

"They'll be fine," Caroline said "They can handle themselves,"

But even an you arrived at the party, and Tyler greeted you with a sloppy kiss on the cheek, you couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in your stomach.

So you text damon.

Hey, you okay?

In hindsight, you thought texting Stefan would probably have been best, but Damon always seemed to answer your texts. Maybe you should text Stefan - but what if those people saw it, they would know you were onto them

For good measure you texted Stefan too,

Can you come pick me up, I don't feel well

You bit your lip, checking your watch as the minutes ticked by. Still no sign of them, or call, or text.

Maybe they were asleep?

And who were those people? Were they robbers? Elena had said that there had been a lot of robberies in the area, she'd told you that when she put a lock on your window.

Or maybe it had been gang members. Bonnie had told you there were many that roamed Mystic Falls at night, and that's why you should never be left alone.

But you were alone.

You hadn't even noticed the other girls leave, you hadn't really noticed how you got to the garden, your thoughts too preoccupied with the Salvatore brothers.

"Fuck it," you said.

You kicked off your heels, if they were some sort of gang members, you at least wanted to be able to run away properly, and started the walk back.

It wasn't a long walk, especially since you were basically jogging, and you arrived to the house within the hour.

You checked your phone, still no response.

The Salvatore front door was left open, and you became increasingly aware of the silence in the household.

Was this their idea of a game?

You huff slightly, unsure on whether to be scared or annoyed, when a noise made chills run down your spine. It sounded like a muffled cry, a painful one at that.

You tried to trace the noise, but it seemed to come from everywhere. You cursed your terrible sense of direction.

As you walked, the noise grew louder, and you could hear someone else laughing over the top.

Was it just a video game?

You pushed open the door of the living room and blinked at the scene in-front of you. Damon and Stefan, tied to chairs with ropes that seemed to burn them, and the two people you let into the house standing over them with sickening expressions.

The brothers glanced at you, their faces turning from in pain to horror.

"Oh," you said weakly "Erm...you really shouldn't be doing that," you said glancing between the four people.

The man, Klaus, laughed "And what are you going to do sweetheart?" he asked mockingly, walking closer to you.

You shrug "well...I know Damon's rather annoying sometimes, and Stefan makes some questionable decisions, so I can understand your frustration. But if you try and attack me, I'm going to have to assume you are the primary aggressor,"

Klaus' grin widened, turning to the Salvatore brothers "Is this your new little pet?" he asked, and they glared at him.

"Why don't we show them what happens to pets?" Rebeka asked.

"Don't you dare touch her!" Damon snarled, fighting against his burning restraints.

You stepped back slightly, wondering if now would be a good time to run. But as Klaus drew closer to you, you found yourself frozen to the spot.

"You should have stayed at the party little one," Klaus said, and you watched in curious horror as the veins under his eyes grew darker, his eyes darkening.

"Oh my god," you said, looking at him with wide eyes "Do you need to go to hospital? I can drive you - it's no worry," you added. His eyes looked like they had popped a million blood vessels.

Klaus drew back, a stunned expression on his face, "Excuse me?"

You pointed at his eyes "Mister I know you're like a criminal and all that but you gotta get those looked at. That looks painful,"

Behind him, Damon stared at you with wide eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Painful-" Klaus started, as if stumped.

"Move out the way," Rebeka snarled, pushing her brother aside "If you're not going to kill her I'm starving,"

You step back uneasily once more, this implication not lost on you.

"Look, I really don't want to hurt you," you warned, lifting your hands slightly.

"I know," Klaus drawled "Let's have the little pet kill her friends - saves us a lot of work,"

You stare at them, before glancing to Damon "Yeah I'm not doing that," you said.

Then all of a sudden Klaus was in-front of you, holding your face in his hands as he forced you to look into his eyes.

"Isn't compulsion a beautiful thing?" Rebeka said snidely to Stefan and Damon.

But all you could focus on was Klaus' eyes as his pupils expanded.

"Kill Damon," he commanded, before letting go of you with a satisfied smirk. Damon stared at you with a mixture of sadness and horror. "See Damon? You should really keep a tighter leash on your pets,"

You glance between them, feeling extremely confused.

"Erm...does that usually work or something?" you asked, hopping onto the desk. If all they were gonna do was tell you to do something, this would be a lot easier than you thought.

Klaus snarled at you, his expression mutinous.

"On second thoughts, I'll just have to kill you," he said.

You squeaked, quickly ducking under the table as he came at you.

"Mister, please I don't wanna hurt you," you begged slightly. It didn't matter how evil this person was, you didn't want to kill them,

"Hurt me?" Klaus laughed. You watched in scared confusion as his eyes darkened once more, and fangs retracted from his mouth.

"Ohhhh what the fuck," you said, your eyes glancing to where a sword stuck to the mantlepiece above him.

The Salvatore brothers were struggling now, but Damon most of all, twisting and pulling against the burning ropes.

You turn to Klaus, a sad expression on your face. "I really don't want to hurt you, but I can't control it when I'm scared," you try to warn and he brushes you off with a grin.

As her runs at you, you hear Damon let out a pained cry. You quickly jump from the table, grabbing the sword above as you hurtle down past the vampire.

You brandish the sword in your hand, the weight of it not unfamiliar.

It would have to do.

Klaus snarled at you again, unsure on how you managed to escape his grasp.

He ran at you a second time, but he was faster, knocking the sword from your grip as he grabbed you by the forearms.

You crossed them, pushing against his strength with your own, desperate to keep control, but also to not die.

"Last chance," you whisper slightly, but the vampire didn't care, still attempting to force your arms apart.

Damon and Stefan almost couldn't watch the scene, your death almost inevitable, but the fact you were holding Klaus off for so long was starting to confuse them.

What confused them ever more, is when your eyes seemed to glow a bright amber, as you used your strength to push Klaus away, causing him to skyrocket into the opposite wall.

You picked up your sword once more, swinging it about carelessly, before brandishing it above your head. As you did so, whisps of flames circled you, making at some sort of creature as your sillohette.

A fox.

"A witch," Rebeka growled, launching herself at you. Your blade met her kneecaps, and she stumbled, knocking over the table in the process.

Klaus stared at you, a look of painted confusion on his face.

"A Kitsune," he realised "A baby one by the looks of it,"

You whipped your head too him, before using your sword to quickly sever the ties that held the Salvatore brothers.

Damon was the first to react, throwing Klaus' slightly burnt body out of the room with a growl.

Rebeka was quick to react, running after her brother before taking off into the night.

The Salvatore brothers stared at you, at the fox like flames that surrounded you, and the sword in your hand. They looked at each other, like unsure of how to react.

"Is it over?" you asked, dropping your sword slightly.

Stefan nodded "They've gone,"

With a sigh, you felt your consciousness slipping, acutely aware of the fact that someone had caught you before you hit the ground.

When you woke, you found yourself blinking through blurred vision at Damon, who was sat next to you, reading a book. Stefan stood behind him, staring into the fire.

"You're awake," he said sullenly, not seeming overly bothered "elena will be thrilled."

He turned to leave but you grabbed his wrist. He glanced down at you with an unamused expression.

"Who were those people?" you asked "And what did they want with you?"

Damon scoffed "I think I should be asking the question's little lady, like how long have you known you were a kitsune,"

"I didn't," you replied back honestly. He looked unconvinced. "I swear I didn't! I knew...I knew I could do something. But I didn't realise that I wasn't..." you trailed off slightly, letting go of his wrist "I'm sorry,"

Damon stared at you, trying to make out what your deal was.

"What happened?" he asked finally.

You sigh, drawing up the blanket that had been thrown on you.

"I can't tell you," you whispered, "I did something, something awful,"

Stefan turned to you, kneeling down in-front "Whatever it is, we won't judge. Whatever you've done, I can assure you we've done worse,"

"But I killed someone," you said weakly, your doe eyes wide as you searched for their reaction.

Damon laughed, and Stefan glared at him.

"I did!" you protested, thinking he didn't believe you "I didn't mean to...but I did,"

Damon looked down at you, kicking your feet off the Sofa so he could sit down besides you.

"And I've killed.." he paused, counting on his fingers, before giving up "At least 500,"

You frown at him "This isn't something to joke about,"

"He's not joking," Stefan said grimly "Me and Damon are 160 years old, give or take a few years, that man you saw, Klaus?"

"The vampire," you said, the word foreign on your tounge.

Damon turned to you, his eyes mirroiring Klaus', his fangs just brushing his bottom lip.

"Welcome to the club little lady," he said with a grin.

Your eye widen, and you took a deep breath "Okay this is a lot to process in an hour," you said, sinking into your seat slightly.

"Why don't you tell us what happened?" Stefan said calmly, giving his brother an annoyed look.

You took a deep breath, playing with your fingers.

"It was last year," you said finally "I was dating this guy and he wanted to take it further, but I didn't - I said I wasn't ready too,"

Damon felt anger bubble in his chest. He wasn't sure why, there was something so vulnerable about you in that moment, and part of him knew exactly where this story was going.

"He...he said it was okay and took me to a party that night. But he got really drunk, and I had to drive him home. I was helping him to his room when he tried to-" you took a deep breath, your face burning slightly as thought about what happened - what you were telling your two male friends "I tried to get away but he wouldn't let me,"

Damon instinctively took one of your shaking hands in his own, an action that didn't go unnoticed by his brother.

"Did he...?" Stefan asked, his face full of sympthy.

You shook your head "That thing - that thing you saw today it came out. It...engulfed him for like a second, one second he was there and the next he was just this charred b-body" you choke slightly and Stefan sighed.

"Klaus says your a Kitsune," Damon explained, realising he was holding your hand and quickly dropping it. "If I remember rightly, they're some kind of fire-fox spirit,"

You bit your lip.

"I'm going to fetch Elena," Stefan said, before patting your head slightly "You should get some sleep."

You were silent as he left, unsure on what to say. You were aware that Damon was looking at your, his icy blue eyes burning holes in your skin.

"Will they be back?" you asked quietly.

He sighed "Most likely,"

There was another pregnant pause before Damon said "Stefan was right you know, you should really go to sleep,"

"I can't walk," you admitted "Kitsune takes a lot out of me, so I'm basically immobile for the next hour,"

Damon rolled his eyes "Well aren't you a princess," he teased and you frowned at him. "Come here,"

Before you could protest he had already scooped you up, and ran Vampire speed to your bedroom, where he carefully place you on the bed.

"Jesus Christ," you groaned, your head spinning "That was not a good feeling,"

Damon smirked "A simple thankyou would suffice,"

He turned to leave, but you called out.

"Wait!"

He looked back at you, eyebrows raised.

"Will you stay? Please?" you asked quietly, not quite meeting his gaze. You didn't see his expression soften slightly, but you did watch as he crossed the room, and collapsed next to you with a sigh.

"You scared?" he teased. "Now you know I'm a big bad vampire?"

You shook your head "You get excited when I let you lick the spoon after baking brownies," you said with a yawn.

Damon scoffed "You know I could kill you in a heartbeat," he said.

You shrugged "Yeah and you haven't. So I think it's safe to say I'm pretty safe,"

Damon watched as you snuggled down in the bed, curled on your side and facing him with sleepy eyes.

"Yeah you are," he whispered softly.

That's when he realised, he wouldn't let anybody hurt you, even if you could handle yourself.

You were his girl, even if he hadn't asked you yet.

[saintagron]

How do you think cait would be as a parent? Love everything u write!

no warnings, i believe!

✶. doesn't matter if she gets you pregnant, you get her pregnant, ivf, adoption, etc... she loves them so much.

✶. would definitely want to have multiple kids. she remembers what it was like to be an only child, especially in a house as isolating as hers was. her parents tried their best, but it's difficult to do everything—especially with an entire city to run. she couldn't even imagine only having one. she has had nightmares about it before, about a baby with her blue hair crying and no one being around to hear. makes sure that whenever you're both out of the house your kids have a nanny + the house's staff to take care of them, on top of your kids already having each other.

✶. always up to take a shift when the baby's fussy... she's so used to being up for 24, 36, 48 hours when she was an enforcer—and that hasn't changed now that she's the sheriff (though it's mostly self-inflicted.) so she's always ready, whenever there's a shift or a cry picked up by the hexmonitor, to pat your stomach and push your shoulders back down, whisper "i have her, my darling." and slip out of bed. you think you're the most rested new parent in the world.

✶. competitive. the type of parent to bet on what word your toddler will say first, when they'll walk or when they'll pick up their head. always glaring at you, pulling your giggly, fuzzy-haired baby into her lap and encouraging them to say "mama."

what she doesn't want you to know is that, whenever you're away, she'll curl up just the same—but instead of mama it's whatever you prefer to be called, murmured over and over again. she'll act peeved, but she coos to them later.

"oh, you did such a good job, didn't you, my lovely?" she murmurs, the groggy babe curled into her shoulder with a fat fist lazily clutching a section of hair. the gentle back pats are rhythmic, in tune with her up-and-down, side-to-side bobbing. "saying that." your toddler only nuzzles closer. their tiny lips part around a yawn, and then again around a sleepy "mama." caitlyn's lips purse, and then downturn—fighting off the genuine wave of emotion. "i know, i know. bedtime, darling." gentle hands lay your child down, and the little one is not worried because that's all they've ever been cradled in. the light switches off, the blue nightlight sputtering to life, and she slips out the door. it's only then that she sinks down against the wall and sobs, smile deep-set and the seam of her lips flooding with the tears that streak downwards.

✶. so protective. she’s always close behind, no matter how far they tottle. she’s sure enough of piltover’s safety—she’s in charge of it, after all—to let her children wander, but she follows close enough behind just in case.

(one time she did let them wander further than usual, just to see if they noticed her absence.

they absolutely did. to a large degree. you had to deal with crying kids holding hands desperately, sobbing about how mama's gone.

needless to say, she slept on the couch.)

✶. other than her occasionally... experimental parenting style (she's trying, okay?) she's quite the good mother. totally dedicated to every moment with your kids—even if she's dead on her feet. she'll light up when she gets home from work and they're still awake—no matter how long she's been on shift—and scoop them up.

"oh, here's mama's babies. how was your day today, hm? productive?" she'll murmur, like her under-eyes aren't the darkest you've ever seen and she's actively swaying on her feet. "al-right, time for bed, yes?" and you'll rush them off, giving her that ten minutes to compose herself, shower, change... and she's out before you return to bed. she'll wake up enough to kiss you, always so soft and pliant, before drifting off again—splayed over the bed like the reaper's taken her.

[kerink]

the thing that's been most surprising to me with mouthwashing so far is how little empathy people are willing to extend to curly. and i don't mean this in a piss on the poor way, i'm deeply saddened and genuinely confused by it.

when i first played the game i was at one of the lowest points i've been at in a really long time. my mental health is bad my physical health is bad. i experienced SA a year ago and was recently diagnosed with cancer. i have 2-5 doctors appointments every week with various specialists.

all the while me and two of my doctors are talking about if i need to make a career change that's going to best support my poor health and improve my overall well being. and my family and friends struggle to understand, because i have a doctorate and a good job and live on my own. everyone looks at my life in awe, and they don't understand why i'm unhappy. they tell me so every time i try to explain it.

so when i played i immediately identified with curly. here is a man who's deeply depressed, having hallucinations, trying to reach out to his best friend for support but just has his words thrown back in his face, doesn't want to burden anya with his stuff because she has her own stuff and he wants her to lean on him, he has all these responsibilities and people look up to him and rely on him and have these ideas about him. the highest wrung of their ladder is the lowest of his, and they have no way of conceptualizing why or how he's unhappy and dissatisfied. before the reveal that he's innocent, i completely understood why he attempted suicide.

and then he develops a new disability.

when jimmy goes to crash the ship, he uses curly's unhappiness to try to convince him a murder-suicide is a good idea, and it works. it buys jimmy enough time to get to the cockpit and crash the ship. curly's too in his own head to realize what jimmy meant because jimmy distracted him with how bad his life is. it isn't until the sirens start that curly snaps out of it and it clicks for him what jimmy's done.

i'm not going to re-litigate the issue about if curly could have done more for anya because i've said pretty much all i have to say on it already.

but we really need to highlight that in addition to his lack of tangible choices, he's sleep deprived, deeply depressed, and hallucinating. this is not a man in his right mind making his best choices.

and over and over again i see people refusing to extend him any empathy, to call him a bystander. does a man who says he'll do anything to help and who wanted to be there when anya broke the news and who does his best to play liaison between anya and jimmy sound like a bystander? he let anya keep the gun case! he knew having it would help her feel better!

how good of a friend have you been when you were in your pit of despair? how much were you able to pour into others when your glass was empty?

anya wanted her and curly's support to be reciprocal. if she has enough psych training to do the evals, and having been thru nursing school, she's probably well aware that she and curly need to both be pouring into each other if either of them are going to be any good to anyone. but curly is so determined to defend and protect anya he won't confide in her, despite the fact it's running him so thin that he almost takes jimmy's bait that suicide is a good idea.

i don't think we need to absolve curly of his responsibility. i don't think we should over look his role as an enabler. i don't think we should discredit or discount analyses of his failures. but i'm so tired of people actively avoiding getting in his shoes, getting in his head, reflecting on how they've acted in the past when thinking and feeling similar ways. our worst moments don't make us monsters.

it makes me so sad. and frankly it makes me feel like all the times my family hasn't understood when i've tried to reach out. curly is screaming in agony and just like jimmy we're just trying to keep him quiet because it's too complicated to deal with.

[alicentsgf]

Whats interesting is whilst Shauna was gleeful at Mari being chosen in the hunt, im not 100% sure she would have been capable of killing her if she'd actually caught up to her. butchering a dead body, shooting at someone indirectly, cohercing others into violence, its not quite the same thing. like Shauna delights in violence, but Lotties the only one we've seen actively kill someone in the teen timeline (and that happens during a psychotic episode). the only person we've seen Shauna kill is Adam and that was on impulse when she felt threatened.

Has Shauna reached a point yet where she could actually take someones life in a premeditated way? because i dont think so, and im not sure she ever will reach it. Shaunas all desire, impulse, fear, and instinct. its very animalistic, and it seems like this is why Lottie sees so much of "the wilderness" in her. so yes clearly Shauna can kill when threatened or desperate, but can she kill just for the hell of it? because she hasnt yet, and it arguably goes against her nature to do so. its perhaps part of the reason why the incident with bruce the goat at Lotties compound effects her so much. she has no drive to kill him, theres no threat to trigger a violent response from her.

Shauna is always outward-looking, struggling to self-reflect or make sense of herself, but it also means she sees the world very simply. shes matter-of-fact, the only one who never truly believes on any level in "the wilderness" belief system (though she might pretend to for the sake of control). its another way in which shes almost animal-like in her approach to the world. animals dont need belief systems or stories and they adapt to their enviroment, becoming feral and reactive if thats what it takes to keep them alive.

It'll be interesting next season to see if Shauna gets the opportunity to kill in a more premeditated way, and doesnt take it. cant go through with it the way she thought she'd be able to. I think its why Callie is "her, but more", like Lottie says. because Callie can. Callie did. Lotties death happened on impulse but it wasnt an accident, we see Callie decide to push her, and Lottie wasnt a true threat in the way Shauna believed Adam to be. I think Lottie has perhaps seen Shauna's limits in a way the audience hasn't yet, and is referencing that. Shauna puts on a facade so she can rule through fear because she needs to feel powerful, clinging to it like a life raft, but she perhaps isnt as capable of murder as she wants everyone to think.