#and trying to find their own and each others bdays

[iamjackstylerdurden]

do yall think billy and stu were buried close to each other

[kithtaehyung]

minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

—

—

Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked. 

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind. 

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst. 

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself. 

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat. 

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks. 

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits. 

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans. 

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is. 

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house. 

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away. 

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.” 

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.” 

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly. 

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off. 

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart. 

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers. 

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together. 

Taboo, even. 

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just… 

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span. 

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag. 

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day. 

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall. 

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to? 

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.” 

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.” 

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday. 

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest. 

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact. 

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets. 

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again. 

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter. 

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street. 

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans. 

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?” 

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too. 

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.” 

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?” 

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.” 

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead. 

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought. 

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point. 

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return. 

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand. 

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—” 

“Course I don’t.” 

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again? 

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again. 

What the hell is up with today? 

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now? 

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too. 

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first. 

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously. 

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached. 

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.” 

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.  

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time? 

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street. 

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.” 

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.” 

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one. 

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.” 

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence. 

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home? 

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.” 

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences. 

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.” 

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over? 

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.” 

Ah. 

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!” 

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk. 

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting. 

And he looks impatient as hell. 

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived. 

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?” 

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second. 

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question? 

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks. 

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it. 

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.” 

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence, 

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once. 

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right. 

Left seems promising. 

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for. 

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared. 

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby. 

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance. 

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out. 

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form. 

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down. 

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed. 

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months. 

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth. 

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the… 

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal. 

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass. 

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge. 

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere. 

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers. 

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past. 

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke. 

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling. 

Shit. 

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company. 

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often? 

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time. 

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here? 

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side. 

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase. 

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win. 

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful. 

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on? 

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight. 

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now. 

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you. 

What do you do? What even can you do? 

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance. 

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!” 

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.  

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life. 

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!” 

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him. 

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do… 

This one thing… 

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you. 

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck. 

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply, 

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?” 

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet. 

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward. 

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant. 

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now. 

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.” 

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.” 

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages. 

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill. 

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.” 

Live with it. How poetic. 

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor. 

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps. 

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling. 

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe. 

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs. 

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down? 

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same. 

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.” 

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now. 

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?” 

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit. 

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought. 

This is going too well. 

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now. 

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded. 

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime. 

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run. 

You’re really doing this. 

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go. 

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front. 

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns. 

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine. 

And he’s… enjoying this? 

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees. 

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit. 

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between. 

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes. 

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face. 

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life. 

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no. 

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is— 

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd. 

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.” 

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside. 

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in. 

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear, 

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.” 

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either. 

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun. 

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight. 

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes. 

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever. 

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey. 

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck! 

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day. 

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts. 

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory. 

Did you both really make it this far? 

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do. 

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three. 

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not. 

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.” 

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.” 

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it, 

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right? 

Right? 

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop. 

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it. 

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up. 

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again. 

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all. 

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive. 

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district. 

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head. 

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward. 

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head. 

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore. 

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name! 

“Agust!” 

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle. 

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt. 

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now. 

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection. 

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way. 

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry. 

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by. 

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time. 

Your tangerines… 

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away. 

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal. 

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake. 

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers. 

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.” 

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?” 

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.” 

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.” 

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.  

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.” 

Mm. 

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow. 

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder. 

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have? 

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now. 

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust. 

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train. 

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—” 

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.” 

“Understood.” 

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling. 

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with? 

…Who exactly did you save? 

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into. 

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman. 

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ minted masterlist

[seulw0nz]

` ꣑꣒‎ ONE WIN, ONE DATE : 심재윤 ─── 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖽𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍

ʬʬ. football player!jake x cheerleader!reader 𖥔 ݁ ARCHiVE 7OO wordcount fluff . . . skinship, kisses ꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ happy bday to jakey, && for my juni bby

YOU'RE STANDING ON THE SIDELINES, pom-poms in hand, watching jake tear through the field like he owns it. he’s got this intensity in his eyes, the kind that makes your pulse pick up because you know he’s giving it his all—just to win this game. all for one reason: he bet you that if he wins, he gets to ask you out.

it’s been a fun, flirty thing between you two for weeks now, but this? this is new. he made sure the whole team knew about his little bet, which has them teasing him endlessly about finally "making a move on his dream girl." you catch a few of his teammates smirking and nudging him before the game starts, and jake just rolls his eyes with a lopsided grin, eyes glancing at you every now and then. you swear you can feel his gaze even from across the field.

the game is close, way too close for your liking. you’re on edge, practically jumping each time he gets the ball, and maybe you’re clapping a little louder than anyone else (not that you liked him, or maybe you did). in the final minutes, it’s tied, and jake’s team has the ball. you watch as he gets the ball, weaving through the opposing team with an ease.

the crowd holds its breath, and so do you.

with a swift, clean kick, jake scores, sealing the win. the stadium erupts, but jake’s eyes find you instantly, a smug, triumphant smile on his face as he’s mobbed by his teammates. when they finally let him go, he sprints over to you, his eyes lighting up with joy.

“so…” he starts, leaning over, hands on his knees, slightly out of breath but still managing to look cocky. “still gonna pretend you’re not into me?”

you roll your eyes, though your cheeks are definitely giving you away. “who said i was ever into you?”

“i could tell.” jake flashes that heart-melting smile, moving closer. you’re aware of the other cheerleaders watching, and you’re definitely aware of his hand grazing your waist, lingering just long enough to make your heart race.

“oh, yeah? you’re that confident?” you ask, trying to sound unaffected, but your voice betrays you.

“confident enough to win a game for you,” he says with a smirk. “and i did say i’d ask you out if i won.”

“so ask away, sim,” you challenge, folding your arms.

he lets out a chuckle, his fingers brushing yours as if testing the waters. “okay, let me ask properly, then.” jake clears his throat dramatically, taking your hand in his. “y/n, would you do me the honor of going out with me?”

you’re pretty sure the butterflies in your stomach are doing somersaults, but you manage to keep your cool—sort of. “hmm… maybe. depends. what kind of date are we talking about?”

jake grins, squeezing your hand gently. “whatever you want. something fun. something that’ll make you smile like that.” he nods at you, obviously noticing the way your lips are curving, despite your attempt to stay composed.

“fine,” you say, relenting with a playful eye roll. “but only because you tried so hard.”

he leans in, closer than before, his voice just above a whisper. “only the best for you.”

your heart skips, and you glance down, trying to hide the way his words affect you. but jake isn’t done; he tilts your chin up, meeting your gaze. "guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“guess so,” you whisper, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you realize he’s not moving back. his hand is still at your waist, his thumb gently tracing circles on your hip. the stadium is still loud around you, but it feels like it’s just the two of you here, his face inches from yours.

“think i can get a ‘good game’ kiss?” he asks with a wink, his voice teasing but hopeful. you roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the way you’re smiling now.

“don’t push your luck, sim.” but before he can respond, you lean up, giving him the quickest, softest peck on the lips. it’s barely there, but it’s enough to make his eyes widen in surprise and a smile spread across his face.

“you’re making me want to win every game now,” he says, looking down at you like you’re the only person in the world.

“i guess you’ll just have to keep scoring, then,” you reply with a grin, stepping back slightly, though your hand stays in his, fingers tangled together.

“oh, trust me, y/n,” he murmurs, tightening his hold on you, “i’ll be scoring a lot.”

[revasserium]

Ma’am your writhing is immaculate!!! If possible can we have a rafayel falling backwards?

falling backwards

rafayel; 1,670 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", slight!suggestiveness, fade to black, the slightest spoilers for raf's bday card, existential cuteness?

summary: the sky forgets, but the sea remembers

a/n: this is rly short and sweet, with a sprINKLE of spice in there for the bday boi!! happy belated my fav mermaid oi

lost and found.

He has waited for you for a thousand years.

And like, this he thinks he could wait for you a thousand more.

“Do you remember?” he asks, his thumb running along the thick rim of his coffee mug, the morning sun pouring thick and lemon-sweet through the endless windows of his vast studio.

“A little,” you say, your eyes fixed on your own coffee, steam still rising in faint, ghostly tendrils above the milky surface.

“Only a little?” Rafayel sighs, leaning back in his chair, his white shirt buttoned carelessly to the middle of his chest, revealing a strip of smooth, unmarred skin beneath. You lick your lips and take a sip of your steaming coffee, cheeks warming as you try to look anywhere else.

“I was just a kid…” you say, a little rueful of his disappointment, but Rafayel only laughs, leaning forward to dip a finger into the chantilly cream dollopped on top of the bowl of fruit sitting in the middle of the table. He reaches out and swipes a bit onto the tip of your nose, making you jerk back, going slightly cross-eyed as you frown.

“Hey!”

“There she is —” he nods, apparently satisfied as he sucks the remaining cream from the tip of his finger, eyes flickering up to meet yours, “There’s that laugh I love so much…”

You somehow find it in yourself to blush and look away, the abashedness of all your previous and younger years welling up inside you, only to crest up your neck and into your cheeks like the morning tide, staining your skin in the color of sunrise. Rafayel watches you with a pleased glint in his eyes, his tongue flickering out to wet his lips.

“You promised you’d come back for me,” he says, pushing his mouth up into a childish pout. You fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“That I don’t remember,” you say, petulant, as you wipe the bit of cream from your nose, scrunching your face to make sure there’s no more. But it’s a lie — though not entirely. You do remember, but only in the way the most important memories always fade with time, tucking themselves into the forgotten corners of your mind until they’re needed. And then up they come, floating to the top of your mind’s eye in flickers and goldfish flashes, like brightly colored fins caught in the morning light, just beneath the water’s shimmering surface.

“Liar,” Rafayel says, and you don’t refute him. He takes a long sip of his coffee and casts his eyes towards the distant horizon beyond his huge, studio windows. The air smells of burgeoning spring, of melting snow and drying paint. Of empty canvases and seafoam and the dewdrops lingering on the leaves of freshly budding flowers.

You press your palms to the warmth of the thick ceramic mug cupped between your hands.

“But… you found me again, didn’t you?”

a whole new world.

The entire world is 70% water. So you know this. So Rafayel tells you.

“The other 30% though, I had no way of seeing, of knowing —” his eyes are faraway as you sit, shoulders pressed against each other, a thick blanket wrapped around you both as the morning chill threatens to seep right into the marrow of your bones.

“I wanted to see the world — the whole world — not just the parts that were sunken under water.”

He says the words sunken like a curse, but you lower your eyes to your hands, clasped in your lap, and you wonder if things enveloped by the soft embrace of water might have it better than the bits of the world doomed to be above it.

“Y’know… I wanted to be a pilot when I was a kid,” you say, leaning back and casting your eyes far up towards the endless sky, the horizons brightening in silken steams of pinks and yellows. Still, the sky directly above you with color of a healing bruise, and a thick, unrelenting darkness simmers along the opposite skyline like a crouched cat, waiting for the sun to turn her head before leaping back up again.

“You did? I thought… well, honestly, I thought all Hunters would’ve wanted to become Hunters from when they were kids.”

You shrug, laughing, “You’re not wrong, but… I thought — how cool must it be to fly the planes that Hunters rode in for their bigger missions? How cool would it be to pilot something into Deepspace? I mean… there’s so much out there that we don’t know…”

Rafayel turns toward you. You flash him a soft, indulgent smile.

“So… in that sense, we’re not so different — we both wanted to see part of the world that we hadn’t before. Parts of the world that we didn’t have access to but… I was thinking about it and… isn’t that a kind of running away too?”

Rafayel stills, his breath going shallow as he turns back to watch the far horizon, where the dawn is rising like a great phoenix, feathers burning, her throat full of bright orange light, and suddenly, all the stories and legends make sense.

“The sea remembers everything the sky forgets…” Rafayel says, never taking his eyes off the rising sun, “That’s what my teacher used to tell me. Artists — we try to remember the things that the world tries to forget too — we paint moments and feelings, try to capture a second in time, even though we’re doomed to fail, over and over again.”

You turn to glance at him, and you catch him staring. Your eyes meet and it’s not so unlike the colliding of lost stars. He reaches out to trace a finger along the edge of your cheek and you feel your breath burning like sunrise in your chest, and suddenly, there’s an entire world caught in your belly, a rising dawn feathering its way out of your throat —

Kiss me, you want to say. Instead, you say, “Happy birthday.”

Thanks, it looks like he might say.

He leans in to kiss you instead.

calculations.

Later, when the sun has risen and set once more, when the tides have come and gone again, when the moon hangs high and envious in the late winter sky and he has his lips pressed to yours, the taste of your pleas slick and sweet on his tongue, he wonders if a lifetime under water has just been preparation for this.

He traces the seashell shapes of his fingers along the white sand beaches of your skin, dropping kisses into the moonlit pools caught in the dip of your collarbones.

“R-Raf —”

He savors in the way your breath catches and cuts, the way he can sever them with silver scissors as he laves his tongue across the midnight bruises blooming along your shoulder, your chest, your hips, the soft, plush insides of your thighs.

“Don’t you think you owe me at least this much?” he asks, his own voice a soft rasp as he pulls back, panting, “After leaving me alone all those years ago… making me wait for so long?”

You keen, head pressing back into the soft feather-down pillows of the mountain-top chalet, lips kissed pink, your cheeks flushed dark with color.

“I — please — more —”

“Mm…” Rafayel grins as he cocks his head, drinking in the sight of you spread out beneath him, “Since you asked so nicely…”

He figures that the human body is also made 70% water. Of salt and gravity. Of the mind forgetting while the body remembers.

Of oxygen and the stuff of lost and wandering stars.

“Tell me one more time,” he says, bending down to graze his lips along your earlobe. He savors in the way your body shakes with shivers, the slick of sweat, the soft break in your voice as moan his name.

“Raf - a - yel — please. I want — I want you.”

hiraeth.

“Do you… ever miss home?”

You try to think about how it might feel to miss a home you can no longer go back to, to come from a place that everyone around you has written off as legend — about the doubt and uncertainty, but about the freedom too.

It’s the morning after, except this time, you’re tucked into the bend of his arm, your ankles locked beneath the twisted sheets, his hair a tangled mess, haloed around his face against the soft white of the pillows.

“Home… doesn’t always have to be a place, y’know.”

“Yeah… I know that.”

“Oh? You do?”

Rafayel smiles, a thing of tenderness and salt, even as he tucks you close. Like this, you wonder if he knows that there’s an entire ocean locked beneath the dark of his gaze.

“Sure I do. Ever since that day — on the beach, my home hasn’t really been Lemuria.”

You swallow passed the dryness collecting in your throat like so much soft, white sand.

“Then…”

Rafayel lets out a puff of laughter, turning his eyes towards the ceiling.

“C’mon, I thought you had to be smart to pass the Hunter exams.”

You crinkle your nose and inch in closer.

“Maybe… maybe I just want to hear you say it.”

You don’t miss the way his ears go red as he makes a show of sighing, glancing back towards you with a helpless smile.

“Fine, fine — ahem… here it goes,” he says, clearing his throat with perhaps too much pomp and circumstance.

“Ever since that day on the beach… my home hasn’t really been Lemuria…” his voice trails off as his eyes soften and he turns to face you properly, the teasing lilt seeping from his voice until the only thing left is warmth and honesty and you can’t help but hold your breath.

“Since then… my home’s always been… you.”

[baeshijima]

— it's the small things with you that matter most

just some day-to-day snippets depicting how it's like to be in a relationship with alhaitham.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 4.4k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, slight crack, established relationship, idiots in love

A/N : HAPPY BDAY BELOVED HAITHAM !! smitten clingy sappy menace haitham is my lifeline huhu 〒▽〒 (this is also just me once again advocating cute/energetic readers with haitham TヘT)

(can be read as a standalone or viewed as the post-happenings of [how to woo the acting grand sage 101] ^^)

Navigating through a relationship with Alhaitham isn't as hard as one might think.

The transition from friends-who-pined-for-years to lovers was a lot easier than you’d like to admit. While there were some significant changes to adjust to (read: Alhaitham's sudden surge in displays of affection), your dynamic pretty much remained the same.

And while you've had your fair share of ups and downs, most of your more serious fights happened before you got together. Considering how long you both have known one another, it wouldn't be an understatement to say you know the other like the back of your hand — understanding minuscule hints and mannerisms anyone else wouldn't notice — and so, most disputes are settled before they can even surface.

Most of your fights wouldn’t drag on for long as you're both pretty open to discussing the root cause and where you both were in the wrong. That and the fact it's hard to be apart from each other under bad terms, as you've come to realise after the particularly bad argument you had two months ago (Kaveh demanded you both stay at your house so that he didn’t have to witness your intensified displays of affection after reconciling).

More often than not, your subject of disagreements are petty, typically resulting in revoked privileges of affection from the victim. That usually results in both sides being depraved and cranky (well, more so than usual in Alhaitham’s case) until the revoked privilege is, uh, unrevoked,

Well, it’s a good thing you both rarely argue!

--

“How could you?!” you cry out, lower lip tugged between your teeth, fists clenched and body trembling. The air between you comes to a standstill, your ears ringing from the built up pressure. “I trusted you!”

Alhaitham merely chuckles, cold and unforgiving. “That was your own mistake.”

Your eyes widen when he raises his hand, breath hitching at his enclosed fist. “Wait... No, don't—!”

And then he deals the final blow, destroying the last card remaining in your deck and effectively winning the match with a smug grin tugging his lips at your misery.

A heart-wrenching scream tore from your throat soon after.

“ARGHGHR—!”

“Well,” Tighnari sighed sympathetically from over your shoulder while Kaveh pats your back at your complete and utter defeat, “I guess that means it's Cyno and Alhaitham in the final round.”

“I won't lose,” is all Cyno says as he nods in your direction.

You nod back, empty and positively dead inside. “Go for it, Cyno.”

“Hey,” Alhaitham cuts in, turning to you with a deadpan. “Shouldn't you be cheering me on? You know, your lover?”

You don't face him. Instead, you cross your arms and scoff before turning your head to the side. "Hmph! As far as I'm aware, you're a traitor; not my lover."

“Wait, [Name]—”

In the end, Cyno did in fact win tonight's game night.

(As a result of this utter betrayal, you refused to indulge Alhaitham in any affection for the rest of the week.

It's Monday.)

On a surface level, most would think you're the clingy one in this relationship. They're not particularly quiet about their fascination, and it's not like you actively try to hide your affection for the absolute love of your life. In fact, sometimes when you hear those whispers and murmurs you often find yourself looping an arm around his own, crashing into him for a hug, or placing a chaste kiss against his cheek.

(It's pretty fun seeing their embarrassed reactions and awkward coughs.)

But, in actuality, the clingy one in this relationship isn't you; it's Alhaitham. Your friends — Kaveh especially — can attest to this.

Take now, for example.

“Mmh,” you groan, vision bleary as a drowsy haze weighs down on your limbs. It’s warm — invitingly so — and the temptation to drift back into deep slumber seizes the corners of your consciousness. Despite the comforting lull on the cusp of coaxing you back into sleep, the heavy arms wrapped around your midsection reminds you of your original predicament. “Haitham please. I have to—”

“No.”

“But I really should be going—”

“No.”

You sigh at his insistence. When you try to remove yourself from his arms he tightens his hold, the sheets rustling at the abrupt movement. And so you try again, only to find yourself rolled over onto your back with him hovering over you on his forearms in an effort to hold you in place. 

Warmth radiates from his torso to yours, the previous invitation to sleep more rearing its head once again. Unlike the frown lines and pout settling on his features, the drowsy droop of his eyes fighting to stay open has your heart weak and thumping wildly. You quickly avert your eyes from his earnest ones in hopes of protecting your resolve.

“I can’t stay in for too long,” you mutter, gently patting his back in hopes of appeasing your lover. It doesn’t work in your favour, however, as it only seems to spur him on and bury his face into the crook of your neck. As a result, you sense your already-waning resolve crumble at his shows of affection.

“Are you saying you don’t want to stay in bed with me and have a lazy day?”

“You know that’s the farthest thing from the truth.”

“Then stay,” he grumbles into your neck, bitter and half-asleep.

In all honesty, that offer is extremely tempting. If it weren’t for the fact you took a sick leave just the other day, you wouldn’t think twice about staying in bed where it’s all warm and cosy; not to mention it’s where your Alhaitham currently lies, trying to persuade you with his top-notch linguistic skills.

Unfortunately, the world is a cruel, unfair, unjust and dark place.

“If I was off like a certain someone,” you make sure to stress, and his fingers twitch slightly against your skin, “then I would. Unfortunately, I'm not.”

“Then just take a sick leave,” Alhaitham instantly counters. He nuzzles his nose into your skin, and a light shiver trails down your spine when he begins to litter warm kisses down the column of your throat. “I'll be all alone if you leave, you know.”

You blink once, twice, yet tufts of grey and teal remain in your sights. “...Are you guilt-tripping me into staying in bed?”

“I'm merely stating the obvious.”

Yeah. You’re not cut out for a life filled with mental battles.

“You...” A defeated huff escapes you at his matter-of-fact retort, and you could have sworn the floppy strand atop his head perked up at your surrender. “Alright. You win. Happy now?”

“Very much so,” he agrees with a smile into your skin. You spend whoever knows how long like this — lying flat on your back, running your fingers through his hair and gently massaging his scalp while Alhaitham holds you under his physique, subjecting you to his morning affections and early sun-kissed confessions.

Eventually he stops, only to roll over, prop himself up on his elbow and gaze down at you. Such tender eyes would be inconceivable to anyone who’s ever so much as spoken to Alhaitham, but knowing you’re the only one to be a victim of such expressions just makes it all the more flustering.

“What is it?” you whisper. Reaching out, you gently brush away loose strands of grey hair obscuring his eyes and tuck the longer ones behind his bare ear. His hand reaches up to grab hold of yours before bringing it down to press lingering kisses against each of your fingertips.

“Nothing,” he says in response, but a soft, sleep-induced smile tugs the corners of his lips, “just admiring you.”

“…Are you trying to make me fall in love with you again?”

“Is it working?”

“Maybe…”

He chuckles at your response before pulling you into his chest, arms and legs intertwined as he presses a long kiss atop the crown of your head, imprinting unspoken affirmations containing his everlasting love for you.

“Good.”

(“Y’know, back when I could only wonder what it would be like to date you, I always thought I would be the clingy one. Sometimes, reality really is more surprising than fantasy.”

“Are you saying I’m clingy?”

“Well,” you look down at your waist encircled by Alhaitham’s arms before locking eyes with him again. “Just a little?”)

“Ugh, it’s so cold...”

“I feel fine though.”

“Yeah, well, this isn't about you, okay? Y'know, some people aren't immune to the cold like yo— mfhm.”

“Stop talking,” he says as he fixes his scarf that's now wrapped around the lower half of your face and neck. Upon ensuring there's no gaps exposing you to the cold air, he begins his nagging, “What did I say about dressing warm? I told you you would complain about the weather but no, you said you would be fine. You even said your coat was thick enough to drown out the chill and so you only brought that. Where did that get you? Cold.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” your whine is muffled slightly through his scarf, but you've heard enough of his reprimands to last you another lifetime. “You're right, I'm wrong. Like most times.”

He breathes a sigh, eyes softening at your half-covered features, “I'm only like this because I care for you.”

“I know. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“That’s—”

Whatever Alhaitham was about to retort with vanishes, instantly forgotten when you lean forward and wrap your arms around his waist. It’s faint, but you hear his heart rate pick up — soft palpitations drumming against your ear with a brief stutter before settling into a steady rhythm.

There’s a calm ambience that settles as you bask in his familiarity. His arms wrap around you not a moment later and he relaxes in your embrace with a soft inhale and exhale against your temple (you don’t have the heart to tease him for his heart being anything but relaxed in fear of ruining the mood).

Perhaps it’s the familiarity, or maybe it’s the cold weather and warm scarf, but a question you’ve been pondering for a while seems more than fitting for this occasion as opposed to any other.

“Is there anything you dream of or desire for the future?”

There’s a minuscule pause.

“Where's this coming from all of a sudden?”

“I dunno. I guess the cold is making me feel a bit nostalgic,” you mutter into his shoulder, leaning into his warmth. A contemplative hum resounds above you and rumbles deep from his chest, firm arms pulling you closer into him — further into your solace.

“What I desire most for the future...” he begins in a whisper, causing you to lean into him a little more to hear him clearly, “...is to lead a peaceful life with you. One where we can grow old and still be content in each other’s arms, no matter the hardships we encounter or the amount of time passed. That’s the one and only future I desire more than anything.”

Butterflies pool in your stomach, ardour fills your lungs. Ah. You blink, mind blanking and throat constricting at his soft tone and words. I forgot he can speak like this.

“Are you crying?” he asks, baffled. It’s only then you realise he’s staring at you — dual-coloured irises wide and bottom lip trembling ever so slightly.

Hastily, you turn your head and rub away the fluid collecting along your lower lashes. “I-It's because your words made me emotional! How could I not react like this when you just say something like... like that?!”

“I was just being honest.”

“That’s what makes it emotional!” you cry out. Through tear clouded eyes, the scenery becomes blurred and the colours of nature begin to smudge together; an incomplete canvas stark against the perfection before you. “Because you’re so honest with your feelings and know exactly what you want, hearing you say something like that and considering our future just... makes me really happy, y’know?”

Amidst your light sniffles, a wave of bashfulness hits you. Alhaitham seldom speaks of such things he is unsure of, even more so when they are matters pertaining to the future. He’s someone who has a clear destination paved before him, paying no heed to needless quibbles nor detours and only focusing on what lies ahead. And so perhaps it is the realisation that he harbours the same sentiment as you — the one of growing old and awaking to the other for countless mornings to come — is what brought upon this flustered feeling; one that reminds you all too much of your early-stage crushing way back when.

While the sudden urge to hide your face away from the eerily silent man is strong, Alhaitham is stronger. And quicker.

“Then what about you?” he finally asks, your arms away from your face and held in his grasp. His thumbs trail along your lower lash line and wipe away any stray tears that may have escaped your attempts.

You blink at his words, dumbfounded at the redirection, “Huh?”

“Is there anything you dream of or desire for the future?”

Your lips parting in understanding, you waste no time in answering the question with a cool glimmer against your reddened eyes and an attempt at a thumbs up while in his hold, “A comfy life with endless good food.”

“...”

Wow. The wind is really loud today, huh?

You faintly register the dull ache tugging at your cheeks before noting the lack of distance between you both. With a blank stare, Alhaitham pays no mind to your drawn-out whines of protest, opting to eye you with his signature “disappointed-but-not-surprised” expression.

“Shtop pinching my cheeks.”

“And if I don't want to?”

“You're gonna stwetch 'em!”

“And? You'd still be cute regardless.”

Your face scrunches at his words, and his hand falls from your face. “Ugh, and what do you know about cuteness?”

“Enough to know that no matter what happens, you'd still be the cutest to me.” A self-assured smirk curls his lips, seemingly proud of his statement.

“Wow...” you marvel, and he seems to take your awe in stride. Your next words, however, have him immediately regretting his admittedly sappy confession. “Does that mean you'd still love me even if I became a slime? Wait, no, a fungus?”

Your lips are forced into a pucker.

“Don't push it.”

(Alhaitham would, in fact, still love you even if you somehow became a slime or a fungus. Maybe.)

There’s something so pleasant about not having to constantly deal with troublesome matters — more so if there’s troublesome people involved. Within the confinements of his own space, Alhaitham breezes through the paperwork needed to be signed and turned in for the day.

Despite the initial repulsion he felt when being nominated as the (Acting) Grand Sage, he has to admit the tedious work reaped various benefits after stepping down not too long ago; one of which being an increase in his pay for having been of such high standing. His goal to live a peaceful has never looked brighter than now — he's back to his easy job, his nine-to-five shifts, a lavish house to call his own (while pointedly ignoring the existence of his roommate), a quiet life with little-to-no disturbance, and now more mora under his name and secured for the unforeseeable future.

In short, life is perfect for the scribe, and nothing else could shake his peaceful life—

The door swings open and bangs against the wall. His once messily strewn papers now flutter in the air and leave you to stand in the centre of the commotion. Chest heaving with a grin splayed on your lips, you’re about to say something until you take note of the room's less than tidy state.

“Aha... Oops?”

Alhaitham can only stare blankly as you sheepishly glance around his office and the mess you created with your whirlwind of an entrance, your hand gingerly rubbing the back of your neck when avoiding his pointed gaze. You quickly fumble to gather the loose sheets that landed around you, and he spies two boxed-up meals hanging from your arms.

Right. Nothing else could possibly shake his peaceful life until you stumbled into it all those years ago, a bumbling fool whom he came to adore more than he thought possible. You, who brought him a world of unimaginable vibrancy and beauty. You, who reduced him into a state of irrationality and impulsivity just to bear witness to your heart-pounding smile (the one that never fails to send his heart madly aflutter, and yet make him believe you could single-handedly be the cause of world peace). You, who he would undeniably, undoubtedly, pluck out the stars for if it would protect you from sorrow and heartache for the rest of your life. You, who has his heart, body, and soul in the palm of your hands.

Well, if anything, you’re a key figure in his peaceful life and future life plans; to him, you’re his precious person — and he has no intentions of changing that.

--

After recollecting the scattered sheets and being on the receiving end of Alhaitham’s nags of “Don’t you know how to knock and enter like a normal person?” and “What would have happened if you dented my wall?”, you settle down with the freshly boxed-up lunches.

With your regular lunch meet-up underway, you ramble about your day while he listens, adding a comment or two here and there where he deems appropriate. It’s the usual routine; its familiarity brings you comfort like no other, and one you couldn’t imagine a world without.

Your mouth freezes open, the spoonful you were about to eat remaining stagnant midair. Alhaitham doesn’t seem to take any notice — well, if him chewing his own food in content with his small hums had anything to say about it. Oh. And the fact there’s an extremely pretty smile currently tugging his lips.

(Haha. Who gave him the right to be so breathtaking? Not you, but you’re not complaining. You’re actually thanking life for allowing you to bask in such a sight every day.)

“You have a pretty smile, Haitham.”

The words slip out before you even realise, but it’s not like you have any intentions of taking them back. And so you roll with it and perch your chin atop your palm, watching as Alhaitham freezes, cheeks flushing at your sudden compliment.

When he glances up, lips pursed and eyes narrowed cutely with embarrassment, he asks, “Do I?”

“Mhm,” you hum before reaching out and squishing his cheeks, much like he always does with you. Another laugh escapes you at his widened eyes, and you lift the corners of his lips into a mock smile with your fingertips. “So you should smile more.”

It takes him a moment to process your words but, when he does, a soft chuckle fills the air between you. He reaches up to enclose your hands in his, a gentle smile appearing naturally on his lips. “I only need to show you my smile, though.”

His response renders you silent, the tender affection seeping through his gaze consuming you whole. Sometimes, you forget Alhaitham is capable of such expressions — the ones that make it seem as though you hung up the stars and lit up the night sky.

Unsurprisingly, your heart flutters.

Hehe, that's my Haitham.

“What's got you looking so smug for?” he asks, one brow raised yet his smile remains.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life like this.”

“You really...” he mutters, though you don't hear the rest when you find yourself trapped in the chair, his hands gripping the armrests and caging you in. “Keep being this cute and I might never let you go.”

“Are you implying you'll let me go one day?” you tease in an effort to ignore the warmth bubbling from his words.

What you don't expect is for him to lower his head until his nose brushes against yours, a smug grin of his own decorating his lips.

“Of course not,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I'll just keep you in my arms for the rest of our lives.”

Your mind draws a blank. “...You wouldn't.”

“Would you like to bet on that?”

“Not particularly.”

That regular lunch meet-up resulted with you having a sore forehead.

Today was a long day. All you wanted to do was to return home once your hours were over, but it seems the world was vehemently against the notion of you cuddling up to your awaiting lover (who is very much impatiently waiting for you. On your bed. On his day off). From being bombarded by scholars to the research papers that only seem to increase in height and stacks, it’s a miracle you even made it back home within the same night!

Fumbling for your key, your mind juggles between wanting to eat or going straight to bed. Upon walking through your front door and up to your bedroom, your mind is made up.

Light spills from beneath your door, the warm hue making your body relax as you enter your bedroom to see Alhaitham resting against your headboard with a book in his hands. His gaze was already on you when you opened the door, but the thick veil of drowsiness dismisses any ideas of teasing him for it. All you want is to sleep in his arms, if you’re being completely honest here.

“You’re finally back,” he states, tone softening when taking in your fatigue. You merely reciprocate with a drowsy nod before trudging over to your bed and flopping into his awaiting arms. Alhaitham huffs when you nuzzle into his chest, his book long-forgotten in his lap. “Shouldn’t you get changed and washed up?”

His words cause you to further bury your face into him. “Don’t wanna. Too sleepy.”

“That doesn’t mean you can sleep as you are now.” A sigh escapes him when you ignore his words, his fingers gently tracing hearts into your lower back. “Just change out of those clothes at least.”

“Chest... Too comfy...” The ministrations of traced hearts come to a halt. Not even a second later do you feel a dull ache push into your skin. “Ow— hey! What was that for?!”

“Oh, great,” he drones with an abundance of nonchalance, blank stare countering your wide frenzied one. “You’re awake it seems. Now you can go get dressed and wash up without issue.”

If he didn’t have such a sturdy physique, you would’ve given his chest a good whack. Well, you still did, but it doesn’t have the same effect when he isn’t phased by the action. And so you roll off Alhaitham with a pitiful whine before trudging to the bathroom in hopes of evoking some deep-rooted, immeasurably painful guilt for depriving you of your well-deserved sleep.

(Spoiler: it doesn’t. You’re pretty sure you heard him snort instead before returning to his book. Asshole.)

When you return, you’re a bit more awake than before. Despite wanting to just sleep, you figure reading something would be the quickest route to dreamland. And so you scour through your various bookshelves in search of something to read (courtesy of Alhaitham leaving his books lying around your place and making you buy two more just to organise everything). A spine with a miniature dragon embossed in glimmering gold catches your eye, its calligraphic title resurfacing memories of when you first bought it.

With eager steps you make your way to the bed and plop down beside Alhaitham, who glances at you with a raised brow at your sudden surge of energy. He doesn’t dwell on it for long though, as he re-engrossed himself in his book with you pulled against his side.

Silence enveloped the bedroom, only disturbed by the sounds of pages turning, thoughtful hums, scoffs of disbelief, and soft gasps.

Another scoff breaks you from your concentration. Glancing up, you see Alhaitham scrutinise the page he’s on with a half-scowl. He doesn’t seem to notice your change in focus, so you ask, “What’s that you’re reading?”

“‘Are we real or is life a hoax?’” he deadpans, and you don’t find yourself surprised one bit. He glances down at the book in your hand, attention diverted from the (probably) infuriating text. “And what about you?”

“‘I was mercilessly sacrificed for the greater good of the Archon War, but I’ve somehow returned back to the moment before my death and now Morax is in love with me?’” You hold up the cover depicting a woman and, who you assumed was the artist’s rendition of Morax — a cloaked figure with wisps of long hair and stunning gold eyes — kissing the back of her hand. “That’s the title of this light novel!”

Alhaitham takes a couple of seconds to just stare blankly at your grin before retorting, “Don’t let anyone from Liyue hear what you’re reading.”

“Well, it’s not like they’re meant to be historically accurate anyway,” you grumble, re-opening the page you were previously on. “And besides, do you know the sheer number of Liyue people who bought this and left good reviews? There’s so many! And there’s also...”

Alhaitham leans back as you continue rambling about the reviews, plot holes, exciting moments, emotional moments, the insane (you made sure to stress) build-up to the confession, and so on. A warm smile tugs his lips as he listens to your voice, paying half a mind to the questionable contents of the book in his hands.

The night drones on, your voice slowly dying out along with it.

“Hey, Haitham?” you call out between slurred mumbles, your eyelids steadily growing heavy. When you hear a light hum from overhead, you continue. “Can I tell you something?”

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

And then you're fast asleep, soft snores and even breaths escaping you as you fall limp against his warm chest.

Much unlike your peaceful figure, Alhaitham's brain malfunctions. There's a familiar constriction gripping his heart — stomach sent aflutter as his racing thoughts increase in tandem with the heat rapidly consuming him. Through a shaky sigh he reclines his head against your bed's headboard, his book now obscuring his face doing little to hide the blooms of crimson searing his skin.

“What did I say about you being cute...”

The night ends with you getting some much needed sleep and Alhaitham getting no sleep at all.

(When you question him on his dark circles the next morning, he merely fixates you with a deadpan stare at your gleaming, well-rested face before gently pinching your cheeks.

“And just who do you think's at fault here, hm?”

“You, for not sleeping?”

“...”)

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

general taglist : @tiredsleep​​ @hannas16​​ @volexis​​ @ladycoleigh​​ @sea-of-dandelions​​ @fandangotales​​ @absolutely-rational​​ @lilikags​​ @astranne​​ @irethepotato​​ @usertsubaki​​ @anarile​​ @yanderealm​​ @kamiiyaka​​ @myaaki​​ @daphluc​​ @nachotrash​​ @hhaithamos​​ @devilishduckling​​ @obsidiannero​​ @hadesaedes​​ @duhsies​​ @garlicforthewin​​ @sassyglassesbunny​​ @uchihaeirin​​ @leena-shii​​ @sammybeefangirls​​ @falling0ut @angelkazusstuff​​​​ @raingoboomboom 

(if u would like to join my general taglist, then pls fill out this form !!)

(bolded urls means u couldn’t be tagged, so try checking ur settings/if u typed the url correctly !!)

[emelinstriker]

Today was my birthday and I would like to know how each of the champions would go about celebrating my birthday with me or you know what would each of them do in their own way to wish me a happy birthday

happy bday :D

and in general for birthdays-

wukong would disappear for a bit and re-appear with whatever you were hoping to get a while ago- just don't ask where he got it from

macaque would be happy to organize a lil birthday party- otherwise he'd try find "the perfect present" cuz a shadowplay wouldn't be enough

nezha would give you jewelery from the celestial realm, and top it off with a flower he grew himself in the courtyard's garden

mk would draw something as birthday present

red son would bake a birthday cake

azure would spend more time with you, getting to know you more- if he was already close to you, he would have a present ready

jin and yin would be the distraction to keep you away long enough from a surprise party, and they got no problem spending hours leading you around megapolis till the others are done setting up

ao lie would offer the most questionable items as present- as in, there is a chance he's gonna offer a human or demon heart, saying how it's from an enemy of yours

mink would just wish you a happy birthday, unless he got a personal bias- then he'd offer playing out a story on the scroll of memory

[koolades-world]

Can you do Obey Me headcanons of a Christian MC? MC isn't a toxic one though, they're actually super nice and supportive of everyone and such. They're also generally really trusting and try and see the best in people. They're more or less just extremely concerned and slightly uncomfortable with the entire being kidnapped and brought to hell thing(and also being forced to attend school again)

They also got really excited when they learned angels were gonna be attending RAD too, so there's that lol

Like when they saw Simeon and Luke for the first time they mentally went "THIS IS A MOMENT IN HISTORY!!!! TAKE A PICTURE!!!"

haha hi!!

when I first saw this I was really looking forward to doing it! been thinking about it a lot

one of my best friends is actually a christian who plays obey me, and she was the one to introduce me to the game. I think she would find this funny, so I'll def be thinking of her while I write this haha (if you're reading this, which you very much might be, heyyyy happy late bday girl)

Christian Mc

Lucifer

once you realize who he is, you're freaked out, both in a good and bad way

like, this is the lucifer! you ask to take a picture lol (and he's not amused)

you're a little sad and relieved when he pawns you off to mammon, since you're awed by his presence but also terrified since you knew the part he played in the bible by heart

once you get to know him, the both of you chuckle about human depictions of him and you finally get that picture! be sure to make him sign it and then frame it

Mammon

learns quickly just how many copies of the bible you own once he spends enough time in your room including but not limited to the version on your phone, the mini version in your RAD bag, and the one you keep on your side table

once you get to the stage of basically living together, he learns that you read the bible and say a prayer nightly

at first, he was nervous having to be the one to guide you but he learnt you were probably more scared of him, and you were actually just so sweet

he jokingly picks up all of the jesus merch he finds so now you have an entire shelf

Levi

the most normal out of the brothers besides the fact that he spends all his time in his room, but that kind of reminds you of a brother you only see like once a day

it's almost scary and a little jarring walking into his room, but after that, you guys get along so well

he admits that he thought the exchange program was weird, and it was all history after that

unlikely besties: a devout christan human and their gamer social outcast demon

Satan

highkey fuming about the fact that humans don't know that he and lucifer are different (he for sure smashed up an entire room of the house)

after he calms down from this though, although it takes a while for the two of you to get to know each other, he takes joy in making fun of the slanderous things said about lucifer

you both like to read but the only thing you reread and read nightly is the bible so

luckily he doesn't care about that since it wasn't his dad anyways (don't remind him that it's technically his grandpa's book)

Asmo

the first time you showed him biblical version of him, he was disgusted and refused to speak to you for the next two and half days

after that he feels a little bad since he knows you didn't mean it like that and since you basically tip toe around him

after that he comes on a little strong, but after a while you get along pretty well despite being so different

he’ll reminisce while you listen carefully and hold onto every work he says since he was a real angel and that’s so cool

Beel

while you were initially terrified of him, you quickly learnt how much like he actually was

at the core, you were both just a kind person (or demon) who wanted to help others and uplift them

always there for you to lend a listening ear and to help out out if others are giving you problems

the first in the devildom to make you feel truest welcome and let you know that you could call it home

Belphie

at first he thinks it’s a joke and kinda pokes fun at it

once he realizes you’re being serious, he feels a little bad but also still thinks is very funny how you hide your face behind a bible when you’re scare

has had holy water thrown at him, and has found a bible under his pillow before (gosh who could’ve done that…)

used to jump out at your from around corners in his demon form and it sent your running every time so you can prepared with a rosary blessed by the pope to shove in his face if he dare to try again

[yallthemwitches]

Responsible Parties

McGonagall had seen a lot of things in her 103 years of Hogwarts, but her Head student’s making use of her desk was not one of them.

A silly, fluffy, flirty fic for @jilytoberfest day 4, Prompt: Starring McGonagall—Happy Bday to the OG jily stan.

AO3 link here! Rated T for sexual situations

Minerva had seen many things come and go through the halls of Hogwarts, but she had never imagined this. 

There were many times she would have expected it. In 1953 the Head Boy, Cornell Ferguson, Hufflepuff, had been a right idiot. Then there was Katie Komisaro in 1961. She was a bright Head Girl, but always seemed to find trouble with the lads. Hell, even last year’s Alice and Frank would have been prime contenders if they both weren’t so bloody chaste about everything.

No, of course it was when two Gryffindor’s were Heads—-and of course it would be Potter. 

When the rumors were spreading about their coupling, she had tried to ignore them. There was only so much melodrama an old witch could take when working with teenagers. But having it be about the Heads, and thus her responsibility, made it a lot harder to dismiss. 

Obviously, she had seen the signs. Everybody knew the two had started going steady, they practically flaunted it. Even the professors would remark that there wasn’t a class period that passed where Lily Evans and James Potter weren’t attached to each other by the mouth the minute it was possible. Most of the time they at least made it outside to the corridor, but there were reports from professors that their antics were now encroaching into the class hours. 

“Potter claimed he was just trying to find his lost quill—-I told him Evans’ skirt was probably not where he’d find it.”

“Well a week ago she was too busy whispering in his ear and playing with his hair to notice her cauldron catch fire—”

“—And they definitely have been using some of the unused charms classrooms—-I keep finding them smiling too much in my corridor. ”

She knew they were expecting her to say something—-but if it wasn’t affecting their work, did she really have to?

She would later bemoan wanting to ever go back for her copy of Transfiguration Travails, so close from skirting disaster. They had just finished a Prefect meeting, one that went perfectly normal without incident. If anything, the Head students were being better behaved—Potter hadn’t made any dopey comments about Evans’ wit and she in turn didn’t lose herself to absently stroking his forearm when they sat together. It seemed like progress, really. Character growth— perhaps they had made it to the end of the honeymoon period.

Ironically, that was what she had thought to herself as she turned all the way back around towards her office. The meeting couldn’t have let out longer than twenty minutes before and she half expected the room to be cleared, head students long gone to their respective classes.

Now, she sat with her two Head students, Transfiguration Travails completely forgotten and everyone’s schedules cleared for the near future. Her mind swam, trying and failing to erase the knowledge that the desk she was sitting at was the site of some very intense shagging just moments before. 

It seemed like a good time to retire. Looking between a very disheveled Evans and a slightly flushed but smug Potter, she wondered what kind of severance pay she could wheedle out of Albus.

“It’s my fault professor.”

 McGonnagall didn’t even look at her. “Miss Evans, you don’t need to lie—”

“No, I’m telling the truth.”

McGonagall watched as Potter’s face grew more smug. She always hated how he and Black were capable of smiling even when being given the harshest of punishments. She hated even more that, despite it all, she had a soft spot for him ever since first year—-at least Evans looked mortified. 

“I would like to go on record and attest that she is not lying—she did start it.” Potter was too chuffed for his own good. 

McGonagall sighed. They were her brightest students and yet didn’t think of using a simple locking charm?

She looked between the couple. Even embarrassed and waiting for judgment, their bodies angled towards the other, knees touching. Noticing the shade of Evans’ face and the slight quiver of her lip, Potter reached out to leave a comforting hand on her lower thigh, stroking slightly with his thumb. 

Damn it.

“I won’t give you any real form of punishment,” she heard herself say before digesting what it meant, “—but this will not happen again. ”

“Of course, professor.” Evans squeaked out. Potter just nodded, knowing better to make promises he couldn’t keep.

At her ruling, Evans’ shoulder relaxed and her quivering stilled. She reached for James’ hand, but rather pushing it away like McGonagall expected, she threaded their fingers together in her lap. 

McGonagall had seen many things at Hogwarts in her 103 years and love, albeit stupid, rule-breaking love, was still a special thing to witness. 

In hindsight, she should have seen it coming, but then again Potter was not the most predictable of lads. Not even a few hours after she had dismissed them, she stepped back into her office and found a brand new desk, already filled with her parchments and books, still shining from the laquer on the mahogany wood. A note waited:

Don’t worry—-we didn’t christen it.

Her Head students were certainly something, but idiots didn’t begin to cover it. 

[myers-meadow]

Libra: Lucius & Narcissa Malfoy x reader

Happy super late, or already early, birthday @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better!! Here is a bday gift fic, angst and fluff, just for you <3.

Summary: Insecurities come to a head on your birthday, but the Malfoys always have a thing or two up their sleeve to make it all better.

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Narcissa Malfoy x reader in an equal poly relationship.

I hope you like it, cy!! This is quite spontanious, so I hope that the surprise is ok :)) dividers by @newlips or @/chechelia

A polyamorous life has many benefits. When Lucius is busy, Narcissa will have dinner with you. When Narcissa meets her friends or goes to her baking club, Lucius will take you shopping. It seemed like life was more perfect than ever with them, as part of their household. Unpredictably, or perhaps not all that unpredictably; double the partners also came with double the insecurities. They've been together for longer than you knew them, of course. It was only natural, and they understood. Still, with them being as they are; successful, rich, beautiful beyond compare, how could you find a place in their lives? What did you have to give that they didn't already have, or could get from someone else?

The late September sun rested itself in the backyard. Perhaps that was one of the biggest benefits of living at Malfoy Manor: the gardens. There were several of them, each with its own theme and story. The rose garden was the one Lucius had constructed for Narcissa when she first moved in, it was to the left of the estate. It had statues of Greek mythology throughout, with alcoves and gazebos with beautiful chairs and tables from carved wood. It fit her so well and Lucius' love for his wife was palpable when one visited the beautiful garden. They divulged that, early on, when they just moved in together and the garden was not as lush as it was now, they would put a blanket out and stargaze together. There still was a designated stargazing spot; one against a hill, with a plaque showing different constellations and their individual stars.

Your birthday came. There was just a note. That was all. A note and a slice of cake. No fanfare, no flowers, not even them.

The handwriting on the envelope curled in the way Narcissa's did, and you open it with a slightly worse tremor than normal. After a happy birthday wish, and to enjoy the slice of homemade cake, it held instructions to come out to the garden, asking for a bit of help, if it suits you, with the new plaque Lucius is getting installed in the stargazing spot. Since you know so much about plants, she trusts in your judgement with which plants will fit in both beauty and meaning. This was that pang of neglect, of feeling like you only mattered for your usefulness. It hit harder than it had before.

Growing restless after breakfast and sick of pacing the kitchen, you eventually go outside. It's a wonderful September day; windy, overcast, and sometimes a beam of sunlight hits a patch of grass or perennials. From afar you hear the cry of Lucius' peacock. Moving along the path, you admire the plants. The bushes don’t have berries anymore, but some flowers are still in bloom. The first of the leaves are turning colour, but only the first few. September is beautiful. Yet it doesn't erase that pang in your heart. Feeling unsure, not wanting to cry suddenly if you meet either of your lovers, you linger around the edges of the estate, not really making your way to the stargazing spot just yet.

Yet, you've been asked for help. How could you refuse them? The project could be fun. Even as you try thinking positively, it leaves a bitter taste. When you get to the stargazing spot, there's another envelope on the plaque, held in place by a rock. Cursive, smaller than Narcissa's. You open it, brushing some wispy hairs that fell into your face from the wind. It directs you further away from the manor, deeper into the estate. It asks you to come to the other side of the estate, the right, to take a look at the plants Lucius ordered, so you could choose between them for the stargazing spot. You frown, but do as it says anyway.

It nears dinner time when you reach the spot, as you deliberately took the scenic route there. Once you're over the hill that leads you to that side of the estate, a gleaming catches your eye. Glass. Stained glass, even, with the lead glinting like silver in the low summer sun. It looks like... You move closer, driven by curiosity this time.

A greenhouse. A large, beautiful greenhouse, stained glass above the door. The colours form your star sign, inside a circle. In the light like this, a light coloured like a kaleidoscope falls on the dirt path leading into the greenhouse. You enter, amazed by the size of the structure. The inside is filled with plants. It's nicely humid, and warm, as a greenhouse should be. Slowly, you follow the path, taking it all in. Was this what they wanted to show you? There is no other note directing you to choose from a certain set of plants, nor are your lovers waiting for you. Yet, you're certain that this building has not been here before. You loved exploring the garden, and if it had been, you definitively would have noticed. It's rather hard to miss.

Along the path are many plants, each in their own designated border, and maintained well. There are tomatoes, paprika, potatoes, onions, green beans, a few lemon trees in large pots, extending their branches up to the glass ceiling. All of them are thriving. After those follow the herbs; rosemary, lavender, mugwort, thyme, oregano, basil, mint... You rub your fingers along a twig of rosemary and smell it. Delightful. Raspberry and blackberry bushes hide near the end of the greenhouse. On a potted rose by the other entrance, a note is pinned, right beneath the largest rose; a tender salmon pink specimen. You take it off carefully, and open it. 

In Lucius' small and precise script, it reads: "We hope you like your gift. For a long time, we thought about how to make this birthday perfect for you, and we decided to gift you the joy of gardening and cultivating your own garden. Narcissa took the liberty of installing it with plants she thought you'd like, and some extra. This area is now your corner of the estate. Our home is yours as well, and now, this is a place just for yourself. You don't ask for permission regarding anything about this greenhouse or the surrounding garden. Ever yours, Narcissa & Lucius."

You press a hand to your mouth, touched as you are. A whole greenhouse... They knew how much you love plants. How much you loved herbology in school, and how many herbs you'll need for potions... So they gifted you an entire corner of the estate so you could practice your hobbies with more ease. With a tear welling up in your eye, you turn around, folding the letter again, looking around at the greenhouse with new eyes. Your two lovers are there, walking in, and you run up to them, engulfing them in the tightest of hugs.

"Well, love, do you like it?" asks Narcissa, smiling and kissing your crown. 

"Narcissa did so much for the space," says Lucius, gracefully giving his wife the credit she earnt. "Although I feel this amount of lavender also benefits her and her baking." He chuckles, and squeezes you tight.

You nod, fully in tears now. "Thank you, thank you both. This is... above anything I ever expected. It's beautiful."

Narcissa points to the stained glass above both entrances. "Those gorgeous things were Lucius' idea, though. You deserve the beauty. We love you, dearest."

"We do, so much." Lucius' voice reverberates against your chest as he pulls you to his. He cups your face, making you look up at him, his stern face now soft. "Don't ever doubt that."

[akookminsupporter]

Sometimes it really helps to just take a step back and try to observe things from a neutral and objective perspective. I find that too often, us shippers don’t realise that we let our biases clowd our judgement which makes it impossible to objectively analyze things to get more accurate results. I am thankful that in AYS we get both just Jikook and Vminkook as it really helps shed light into their dynamic more than anything else.

After watching all 3 episodes very closely, I took nitr of a few things that I would like to share.

First of all, I think it is important to consider the fact that Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung are not like a friends and two lovers dynamic that many people like to potray. It’s not your typical “how he would behave with a partner and how he would behave with a friend” and this is mostly because these three guys grew up together kinda like siblings and they have very different dynamics with each other. More importantly, the different duo dynamics have absolutely nothing to do with each other. Taekook’s relationship has nothing to do with Jimin. Jikook’s relationship has nothing to do with Tae and Vmin’s relationship has absolutely nothing to to do with Jungkook. Taekook or Jikook or Vmin could be on good or bad terms and that would have nothing to do with the rest. The reason why I am bringing this up is because I have seem so many shippers compare moments way too much forgetting that Taehyung cuddling Jimin has nothing to do with Jk because these boys have grown up untop of each other (literally) so trust when I say certain touches or moments among them don’t phase the others at all.

Even if Jimin and Jungkook are dating, Taekook’s hangouts wouldn’t phase him at all because he knows that outside of him they have their own friendship and bond. Same with Vmin. So Jk could attend as many premiers as he wanted with Tae or he could go on as many trips as he wanted with him but as long as that wasn’t eating into the time Jimin wanted to spend with him (Jk) it doesn’t matter because Jimin knows that those two have a bond that has nothing to do with him.

I cannot say for sure if any of the members are dating or have ever dated but if I had to bet on any pair, it would be Jikook. The reason for this is that, I cannot remember any single time when it was expected that Jk should be with the one who should be his partner and he was with Tae instead of Jimin. What are some of the times that anyone in the world expecta or thinks that lovers would prioritize being together over anyone else?

We have nights. Friends can hangout as much as they want during the day or even at night but everyone knows that at the end of the day, lovers would want some privacy to spend alone time with each other and it just so happened that out of all members, Jimin and Jungkook prioritized being in each other’s company at this time over anyone else’s. We can argue all we want but I think we all know that there is no way in hell Jk would have chosen to repeatedly go to Jimin when he needed company at night if he was dating any other member of the band.

We have special days like birthdays and couple holidays. I understand that this could be different with certain cultures and might also depend on schedules and stuff like that but there is no way in hell a couple will always prioritize spending days like this with friends instead of each other. I can understand friends meeting to wish each other happy birthday or even being together when one person’s partner is probably not available but what sense does it make to think that while Tae is very available, it is Jimin that Jk repeatly chooses to be with on these days while he says he doesn’t even see Tae at all on these days? Spending bdays and couple holidays isn’t something that is exclusive to couples but couples would always prioritize being together on these days than being with anyone else.

Taekookers can call the content we have watched for over 10 years scripted all they want but Jimin and Jungkook had consistently chosen to be together alotttt! Just watching a shit ton of content will show you how those two were always joined at the hip coming and leaving together, waiting for each other, staying back to watch each other perform etc.

This AYS episode made things clearer to me when it comes to Vminkook dynamics. For taekook, those two have an extremely playful dynamic and it is nice to see that Tae is back to his quirky and playful self. I feel like that is how Taekook connect the most. The have the most chemistry when they are just doing something they think is fun and they really enjoy. Other than this, they don’t seem to vibe very well when it comes to anything else so I can definitely see why after they hang out and have all the fun they can have, they don’t feel the need to hang around each other much. While I can see Jimin and Jungkook just laying by each other’s side in complete silence for hours, just basking in each other’s presence, i unfortunately cannot see this with taekook. There is also this gentle love that Taekook share. A love which definitely isn’t romantic but more filial. Tae enjoys babying Jk sometimes and Jk actually lets him (until he doesn’t want it anymore). They is this endearing love that you feel that they have for each other but it is completely platonic and reads more of siblings love than anything. Jk’s statement about Tae being weak could have come off as a Joke but I feel like that is exactly how he sees Tae so because of that, he sometimes feel this need to reassure him. Like him climbing the wall to reassure tae when Tae was scared to Jump. Jungkook has moments when he sometimes acts like a big brother to Tae because of how he sees him and Jungkook also has moments when he lets Tae act like a big brother to him. There is 100% no romance with taekook and I haven’t been more sure of anything in my life.

With Jikook on the other hand, these two are a bucket of complicated feelings. There is a reason why some of their interactions don’t come off as wholesome as the other duos. This is because unlike the rest, I think Jimin and Jk have always had and shared very complicated feelings for each other and under their circumstances, it is unrealistic for their dynamic ti not give people mixed emotions. You can tell that they really love each other but sometimes too, they seem a little overwhelmed by each other. There is a panic with them that I don’t sense with any other duo. There is this erotic energy in their touches that I don’t see with any other duo. Just compare Taekook’s little cuddle time in episode 3 to whatever it was Jikook were doing in episode 2. One look at Jikook and the way Jungkook liberally touches certain parts of Jimin and even the way they playfight and you can easily tell that those two go beyond what is allowed between friends. You will see Jk cuddle the other members, slap their butts and even caress their butts but with Jimin, there is a little something more than I cannot explain. It is one of those things that you can only understand but don’t really know how to explain. Even in this episode, did you see where Jk aimed his gun? He literally aimed his gun at Jimin’s “front and back” and I can understand the butt because they are butt people but no matter how much I think about it, I cannot imagine Jk aiming his gun at the “front” of any other member. Jimin is his hyung too but the fact that he literally has no fear speaks volumes. Even when Tae joined in shooting jm with water, he mostly aimed at Jimin’s back and sometimes his butt but my man Jk was determined to get the front and back. It’s the same way we have seen him touch Jimin in ways that he doesn’t touch others. He will slip his hands into Jimin’s shirt and caress bare skin, he will lick on Jimin’s bare palms, be would let Jimin bite on his neck etc. There is a familiarity in their touches that goes way beyond what we see that is normal with other members.

Jk would also let all his other 5 hyungs baby him from time to time but he would not let Jimin baby him ever. He would have never let Jimin cuddle him the way Tae did but he would let any other member do it (when he feels like it). It feels like there is this power struggle and he doesn’t want to feel like Jimin’s donsaeng which is ironic because actually likes to baby Jungkook and really tries to but Jk never lets him. Also, there is this authoritative tone that we get from Jk ONLY when it comes to Jimin. His demeanor and tone and facial expressions sometimes with Jimin always give “hunk oppa” while depending on the day, with his other hyungs, you can get baby Jungkook, brat Jungkook or mature Jungkook but we never see “baby Jungkook” with Jimin. I also love the way to Jimin and Jungkook, it’s not just about the playful and fun moments but also those moments where they can just sit together in silence or sit together and talk.

Sometimes relationships between people change and dynamics change too. I feel like somethings changed with Jikook in chapter two, maybe the different schedules, alot of time spent away from each other etc but I still feel like if any of the members have ever had something romantic going on, it was definitely Jikook.

Oh wow, anon, that was incredible. Thanks for sharing such a well-thought-out opinion. I agree with almost everything you said, and I'm sure I couldn't have said it better myself.

Gracias!

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 23

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x fem!hamilton!reader ― Warnings: graphic description of unprotected sex (fingering, dirty talk, and p in v), mentions of alcohol, and jealousy.  ― Summary: It the ending of the season and fans get a glimpse on Mick and Yn’s perspective. ― A/n: None of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps, but the work is, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ you can support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

part. 22 | series masterlist | part 24

November, 2023

lewishamilton

liked by pierregasly, temsbaby, and others

lewishamilton You'll always be my baby sister, my bisty. I don't care how old you are, if you're dating, if you have kids of your own, or if you get married, you're forever the baby I held and knew I would protect with my life. Happy birthday theofficialyn 💙

view all comments

pierregasly Happy birthday, Hamilton baby! 🥳

⤷ hammertime_ why this is so funny to me

⤷ theofficialyn pierre 😠 hamilton baby sounds as if he’s my dad lol

ynfan my fav sibling duo 🥹💖

landonorris happy birthday to my fav brit girl! 💗💗

schumimick imagine having these genes and being born this pretty!

mickschumacher 🥹❤️

⤷ leclerccookies not even mick can’t resist baby yn!

⤷ dreiricciardo mick is the weakest for her and we know it

theofficialyn I love you, lew! thank you for always taking care of me 😭💗 my fav brother 💗

⤷ sainzfiftyfive do they have more siblings? what?

⤷ schumercedes I guess this is the joke, he’s her only brother 😂

georgerussell63 Happy birthday, Yn!!! Love you tons, please stop giving merc admin memes ideas 😘❤️

ginaschumacher

liked by lewishamilton, lilymhe, and others

ginaschumacher life gave me a little sister and I have never been so grateful. Thank you for being you, and for shining your light on everyone around you. I wish you the happiest life, Yn. I love you tons! 👩🏼‍🤝‍👩🏾💘

view all comments

fan02 Is that mickyn I see? Did gina just fed us mickyn crumbs? 😭😭😭😭😭😭

mickschumacher I had no idea you took that pic haha 💜 we look cute, ily

⤷ astonmartinha GINA POSTED MICKYN 😭😭😭

theofficialyn I love you, g! You’re a gift life brought to me and I’ll cherish and keep you forever! 👩🏼‍🤝‍👩🏾💞💞

⤷ burrowleclerc oh to be best friends with my boyfriend’s sister

carmenmmundt 🥹🥰 Happy bday, Yn!!! You’re such a kind soul, and it’s an honor to be your friend. Ily!

ylnrain I find it so gentle and endearing the way the schumacher and the hamiltons became close friends all because of mick and yn. like, she could just be acquaintance with gina, but they’re always seem together and they truly root for each other, you can see it. and then there’s mick and lewis who got even closer during these past few months, like…this is some romance book typa shit and I love it!

⤷ norrizzfour bestie ur rant was longer than the birthday wishes but I love that for you 😅🤣

charles_leclerc

liked by estebanocon, carlossainz55, and others

charles_leclerc I won't say you're like a sister to me or else your brother will push me off the track 🙄 but it's a pleasure to be your friend and to share the struggles and the good things of life with you. Thank you for always remembering about me with your sugary diet vegan desserts. Life is sweeter around you! Happy birthday, Yn ❤️

comments on this post have been limited

pierregasly 👍

⤷ lewisfan not pierre jealous LMAO

⤷ theofficialyn he loves you a tiiiiiny bit more than he loves me, believe me

⤷ pierregasly yeah but he never said life is sweeter around me 🤬

⤷ arthur_leclerc he did say it was funnier tho

⤷ joris_trouche 🤔🤨🤨

⤷ theofficialyn did charles told you to comment this, arthur? 🤣

⤷ charles_leclerc I’m trying to avoid a future track collision here, Yn!

⤷ landonorris you guys so dramatic 🤦‍♂️

danielricciardo Happy birthday, Yn!!!! 🥳🥳🥳🙌🏻

carlossainz55 feliz cumpleaños, hamilton! ❤️❤️

scuderiaferrari so she HAS been bringing you sweets huh?

⤷ theofficialyn they’re all healthy I promise, I even talked with the nutritionist 😇

⤷ georgerussell63 rumor has it she didn’t talk with the nutricionista

⤷ georgerussell63 but they’re all healthy anyways, calories free and all, even I eat some!!!

⤷ theofficialyn I was about to call alex to beat ur ass!

franciscac.gomes feliz aniversário, yn! 🥹🥰💗 te amo!!!

⤷ theofficialyn I love you more, kikaaaa! 💘💘

🐦‍⬛ twitter

mickschumacher

liked by danielricciardo, mercedesamgf1, and others

mickschumacher I am the luckiest guy for having you in my life. I still remember the first time I saw you, and to this day I still feel all giddy whenever you walk into the room. I wanna spend the rest of my life by your side, smiling, laughing, crying, talking, sharing every moment. I wish you the happiest birthday, and an even happier life, Schatzi. I love you 💛 here’s to many more birthdays together

view all comments

ynsunshine the mickey shirt 😭

⤷ spanishgp23 isn’t that how yn calls him?

⤷ ynsunshine exactly!!!!! 😭

estebanocon happy birthday, yn!! 🩵🩵🩵

mercedesamgf1 happy birthday to the merc’s garage sunshine 💓

theofficialyn forever 💗

🐦‍⬛ twitter

📸 instagram

theofficialyn

liked by exudoblues, pierregasly, and others

theofficialyn had a great time in Brazil with some even greater people 💛💚💙🤍

view all comments

brunamarquezine te amooooo! 🩵🩵 (Ily)

keepupwthehamiltons I saw yn was with Iza too, and I’m manifesting something between iza and lewis like 😩😩 they would be so powerful together

mickschumacher ❤️

satelliteferrari mick showing up twice 🥰 she really said MY man

lewishamilton thank you for always having my back 💙

⤷ theofficialyn you’re my forever number 1! Love you, lew 😘

⤷ hamiltonsiblings my forever number 1 😀🥲☹️😭 meanwhile my brother calls me ugly in every possible language

1directiontrack I say give Yn the citizen title too 🇧🇷

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll, and others

mickschumacher vegas, baby! 😚

view all comments

gaslightgasly I wonder if the last pic isnt a soft launch for his new seat next year 👀

⤷ schumicedes I haven’t thought about it, but it makes sense…

mickynshipper I love how they’re the center of each others posts 😩💗

sainzleclerc God, I’ve seen what you done for others 🙇‍♀️

estebanocon I like the new haircut 😎

gaslybestie I can’t be the only one who had some very age restricted thoughts with the fourth pic…

⤷ vettelforever oh you’re def not alone on this train bestie

porscheschumi I am invested on this porsche 2024 mick!! omg omg

December, 2023

📸 instagram

theofficialyn & mickschumacher

liked by temsbaby, lilymhe, and others

theofficialyn it's the most beautiful time of the year 😍❤️🎄

view all comments

lewishamilton sickenly cute, but ily 🤍

ginaschumacher its even prettier sharing it with you guys 💚

ynfan2 the way they're always included in each other's dump is so wholesome, I bet they waited way too long to do it, and now it must feel liberating

⤷ russellsainz they're showing off but I would too if I dated one of them

estebanocon merry xmas!! 🎅

sunnyyn its their first Christmas together I'm crying pls

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, lovelies! I hope you liked this quick chapter, we're about to reach the last one and I'm a bit nervoussss hihi Let me know your thoughts on this chapter and komh in general *mwah*.  

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘

▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @mishaandthebrits @fdl305 @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @schumacheer @callsign-scully @v1naco @dearxcherry @elliegrey2803 @peachiicherries @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @nichmeddar @fastcarsandshit @goldenalbon @balekanemohafe @jamie2305 @nzygftoji @skepvids @bbreezybitch @graciewrote @ferrariloverr @heelariously @thatgibbsygirl @minkyungseokie @scopeiguess @princewis @leclercsluv @alessioayla @littlesatanicassholebitch @barcelonaloverf1life @noncannonships @fanboyluvr

©thisismeracing. do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.  

[daisyvisions]

[8:42PM] - Can’t Get Enough (j.hn)

Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), friends to lovers, fingering, some dry humping, "secret" relationship, mirror sex (if you squint), Word count: 0.5K

A/N: Part 2 to this fic from a while back, to the anon that requested it I can't find the original ask but I hope you see this and know I kept this in mind for a while! 🥺 Consider this my late bday gift to Hak too! Tagging @deoboyznet @aimeecarreros @winterchimez @snowflakewhispers

“Hak please, they’re going to hear us…” You mumble under your breath.

“They’re only going to hear us because you can’t keep quiet.” He whispers against your ear.

Ever since the incident in the van, it was like the two of you just couldn’t keep your hands off each other. And well… none of you were complaining about it. Both of you found every opportunity to be with one another even at the most inconvenient times, just like now as you fool around in the upstairs bathroom of whoever’s party this was.

And all it took was a small but lingering caress of Haknyeon’s hand on your lower back, a touch that signaled I want to do very bad things to you right now.

He currently has you pressed up against the sink, your hands gripping onto the edge of the countertop as his hand covers your mouth while he vigorously plunges two of his thick fingers inside your weeping cunt. His plush lips finding purchase at the junction between your neck and collarbone, muffling his own sounds of pleasure as he ruts his erection between your ass.

“They’ll get too suspicious Hak, we’ve been gone too long…” You groan against his big palm.

“Relax. I’ll be quick I promise.” He leaves a small kiss on your shoulder.

His fingers inside suddenly curl and thrust deeper into your core, trying to get you to reach your sweet release in a matter of seconds. Your eyes roll back as Haknyeon continues to finger fuck you into oblivion.

You don’t even notice the smirk on his face as he watches your reaction through the reflection of the mirror in front of you, taking a mental snapshot of your face for his own pleasure later on when he’s alone in his room tonight.

He knows you’re close by the way your eyebrows knit together, how your breathing slowly turns erratic, and how your hand release their grip from the countertop and grip his hair instead.

“I’m goi- oh fuck!” You mumble against his hand.

“C’mere-” Haknyeon turns your jaw towards him, smashing his lips against yours as he swallows in your moans. Your velvety walls gripping his fingers like a vice as you come undone so beautifully.

After, you both slowly help fix each other’s appearances before leaving the bathroom at different times as to not cause any attention to the party goers downstairs. But even being at different corners of the room, you still find yourselves seeking the other with your usual hidden glances at one another.

“So… When do you think they’re finally going to admit they're together?” Eric whispers to Hyunjae as they observe the two of you from their spot on the couch.

“I’d give it a week or two until one of them breaks.” Hyunjae replies.

“Tonight, that’s my bet.” Eric says confidently.

“Horse shit.” Hyunjae scoffs as he takes another swig of his beer.

“Give me ten minutes. I’ll cozy up near her and he’ll come rushing.” Eric smirks.

Safe to say, Hyunjae lost a lot of cash that night.

[reverie-starlight]

{PILLOWS- kuroo t.}

BIRTHDAY BOY!!!! LOVE OF MY LIFE!!!!

here’s some silly kuroo fluff for you. originally I had another idea for his bday fic, but I decided on this instead. it's not bday specific, though, sorry :(

gn!reader, no physical descriptions. all fluff, this is sickeningly sweet actually. lowercase intentional. cuteness aggression but not really, reader has trouble asking for things. I make use of one (1) recognizable joke and you're not allowed to say anything about it. it's good dialogue and he's a dork, you can't tell me he wouldn't do this.

“I want to throw a pillow at you.”

kuroo turned around from where he was sitting at his desk and slow blinked at you. “I’m sorry, you what?”

you giggled at the silly, incredulous expression on his face from your own spot on the couch in his apartment and tried to quell the ever-growing feeling of affection for him in your stomach.

“you heard me.”

he gave a dramatic sigh and threw his head back before standing up and walking over to you. he made a big show of taking the decorative pillows from the couch (ones that you had insisted he should get a month ago when you were walking past the home section in that one department store despite not even living together) and dropping them on the ground.

“may I ask why you’d like to attack your precious, doting, loving boyfriend?” he questioned as he crawled on top of you and nuzzled his face into your chest.

your hands immediately got to work running through his messy black hair. “because I love you.”

you said it so simply that for a moment he almost accepted it without question. almost. “…explain?”

it was silent in his tokyo apartment for a few moments and he tilted his head up to look at you. what surprised him wasn’t the lack of response, but rather the look on your face. it was almost as though you were struggling to find the right words.

that was fine. he could see you needed a little push, so he handed you a pillow and smiled when you gently bonked him on the forehead with it. nothing harder than that with how close in proximity you two were to each other. you dropped the pillow back down after that.

he gave you the time you needed and rested his head back on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

finally there was an inhale and your sweet voice reached his ears once more. “sometimes I just get... overwhelmed with affection for you. it bubbles up and I don’t know any other way to get it out besides annoying you and getting playful.”

he holds himself up on his forearms and looks down at you- wholly amused, if his stupid smirk was anything to go by. “so, cuteness aggression, but like, affectionate aggression instead? does that technically count as the same thing?”

you nod and wrap your arms around his neck. “yeah. throwing a pillow at you feels like I’m knocking all my love and support into you.”

he snorts and presses kisses to your cheek. “that's adorable. you can just ask me for affection if you want it, baby.”

you pout, and he knows exactly what’s about to come out of your mouth. “you know I’m not good at asking.”

and he did know. throughout your relationship, he had realized that you’re not good at asking for the things you want- no, need. affection always seemed to be on his terms. you would only ever offer it if he had already made a move, and you always returned it equally. that was fine with him, of course, and you had gotten better about it in the past year you'd been together, but you still struggled a bit.

he knew you were trying, though (even this conversation was a step forward for you), and that was all that mattered to him. until you got fully comfortable with it, he was more than capable of reading your mood and knowing your tells.

he pressed a couple more kisses to your face, which showed clear signs that you were enjoying the contact, and smiled. “I know, baby.”

it was quiet for a few more moments before you felt him smile into your skin. his shoulders shook and his voice sounded strained. "hey, maybe 'I want to throw a pillow at you' will be our 'always'."

he peeked out from your neck sporting a grin to see the glorious sight of you staring up at the ceiling and struggling to not laugh. "I take it back, I actually want to throw things at you because I hate you."

he cackled and you let loose a few small laughs of your own, reaching a hand down to arm yourself with the pillow from earlier. before he could realize what you were doing, you smacked the pillow against his back a few times and his head shot up. he was back to hovering above you in an instant with a dark, mischievous look in his eye.

"you are really not in a position to be doing that sweetheart," he shifted his weight to one arm so that one of his hands could freely move down to dig into your side. "especially after what you just told me."

you squirmed and struggled, whining out apologies you both knew were meaningless, before you somehow managed to grab hold of his wrist and throw him off balance. you made your escape (not before attacking him with another round of soft smacks from the pillow to hopefully keep him down) and he gave you five seconds before he was darting after you.

it didn't take long for him to catch up at all.

"what's the matter, baby?" he taunted, scooping you up and carrying you to the bed, chuckling along with you as he tried and failed to keep up his menacing act. he threw you on the bed and dug his fingers back into your sides. you shrieked and tried to grab at anything you could reach to defend yourself.

"you said you were feeling affectionate, right? I'm just trying to return that tenfold. that's what you wanted wasn't it?" he laughed and dodged your attempts to fend him off. "that's why you kept hitting me with those pillows? because you're just soooo full of love for me?"

eventually he ended his attack and admired the giggly mess you had become. he shook his head fondly and laid down next to you. "you're adorable. even if you need to throw things at me to let me know you want some attention."

you rolled onto you side so that you were nose to nose and smiled brightly at him. "I love you."

his eyes softened and he ran his knuckles over your soft cheek. "I love you too. and..." then they grew mischievous again and you felt a pillow hit your back this time.

"...I kind of want to throw a pillow at you, too, baby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

if the ending feels rushed, it's cause I had two midterms this week and I'm drainedddd. but I just had to get something out for the loml. this makes up for me choosing to do an osamu bday fic over an atsumu one this year, right? I still feel guilty for that :') hope you enjoyed <33

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT: BIRTHDAY EDITION — JACK HUGHES

part of the off-season editions!

notes: i know i’m not even caught up on the games yet! i am SO sorry! i’m gonna try posting a couple tomorrow! the hardest part has been finding the time to rewatch the games and take screenshots but i’m gonna try and do a few games tonight so that i can write tomorrow!

another note: i fried by brain with all the writing i’ve done today, so this isn’t nearly as fun and chaotic as i had hoped it would be when i first decided to write it :(

y/ndevils00

liked by jackhughes, nicohischier, and 144,952 others

y/ndevils00 HAPPY TAYLOR SWIFT BIRTHDAY TO THE SEXIEST MOTHERFUCKER TO EVER HAVE LIVED!!

my shoe matching, bags holding, 99 point scoring, hair cut needing, tooth losing, sebastian aho fighting, personal carrier! this kind, wise (but not smart), funny, handsome boy is 22 today!

jacky, you make me the happiest girl in the world every day, so i hope i can return the favor for at least this one specific day. thank you for being my best friend and the best cat dad! i’m so glad we had each other to lean on in our first year with the devils, and i’m so happy that you decided you liked me enough to keep me around.

we’ve had ups and downs, i’ve comforted you through losses, celebrated with you for wins, but i remain true to the fact that MY biggest win has been landing you.

i love you to pluto and wish you only the best in life, bubs. happy birthday <3

p.s. i hope you’re not already sick of hearing 22 (tv), cause it’ll be on all day! even during sexy times!

tagged jackhughes

jackhughes thank you sweet girl ❤️ i love you to pluto! i’m so grateful for you.

jackhughes however, i am gonna need you to stop calling getting ready for bed, “sexy times” and putting it on the internet where my mother can see it. she’s gonna think you’re talking about something else

y/ndevils00 your mother loves me, i can do whatever i want

elblue6 i love her and she can do whatever she wants!

jackhughes it’s my birthday and i’m feeling really attacked

trevorzegras you brought this on yourself dude

john.marino97 i thought i was the sexiest motherfucker to have ever lived?!

y/ndevils00 shhh jojo! i promise you are every other day of the year!

dawson1417 now hold on- you told me i was the sexiest motherfucker to have ever lived!

nicohischier she told me the same thing!

john.marino97 @/y/ndevils00 do you have anything to say for yourself?!

y/ndevils00 i fear i have been caught… 🏃‍♀️

john.marino97 happy birthday hughesy!

jackhughes thanks maraschino cherry!

john.marino97 not you too!

dawson1417 happy 22, man! been a pleasure playing with you! thanks for sharing your time with y/n with us!

jackhughes thanks man! you too! although i’ve had no choice in that last thing. i’d like my gf back!

dawson1417 i can’t do that.

nicohischier happy birthday jack! i’ve loved having you as alternate captain! can’t wait for next season!

jackhughes thank you cap! can’t wait to go even farther next season!

lhughes_06 happy birthday to the best middle hughes brother!

jackhughes i’m the only middle hughes brother? but thanks?

lhughes_06 yeah!

elblue6 happy 22nd birthday to my middle baby! i love you honey!

jackhughes thanks mom, i love you too! and happy mother’s day!

_quinnhughes happy bday little bro! hope you have a great day!

jackhughes thanks bro!

subbanator happy birthday lil jizzy! see you tonight, man!

jackhughes thanks man! we’re gonna have great night, eh?

y/ndevils00 what is this i hear of going out tonight? why do i find out you’re abandoning me, ON MY OWN POST?

subbanator @/y/ndevils00 sorry female jizzy! gotta take the man out!

y/ndevils00 did i just get called “female jizzy”? jackson, get this man off my post. i’m mad at you both @/jackhughes

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 yes ma’am

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes ….

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 still no.

dougieham happy birthday to y/n’s other half! i think i’ve met you once or twice

jackhughes thanks dougs!

trevorzegras HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUGHESY! 22! LET’S PARTY TONIGHT!

y/ndevils00 YOU’RE going too?! what is this, not invite y/n night?!

trevorzegras it’s not that you weren’t invited, it’s just…

y/ndevils00 it’s just what?!

trevorzegras i got nothing. sorry, i thought i would come up with something

jackhughes thanks z!

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 you ARE invited babe. i told you about it last night!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes oh- it was 1am and you kept saying “tomorrow” so i thought you were talking about plans for tomorrow night

jackhughes @/y/ndevils00 WHO talks about plans at 1am and refers to it as “today”?!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes me 🧍‍♀️ so watch your tone toothless

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes HA! SHE GOT YOU!

[thelastofhyde]

the likeability paradox. ( teaser )

this fic has now been posted, read here !

pairing. joel miller x fem!reader

synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, that lives under bill and frank's roof says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.

warnings. enemies to lovers ig, slow burn (i have intentions to drag this out into several long oneshots that can be read separately), unrequited love (except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion), pining, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel (if you squint), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap (reader implied late-20s), canon violence, smut (oral- f receiving, fingering, praise, degradation, possessiveness, panty stealing, dirty talk, dubcon ig, hints at ass-play, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse). this is set prior to ellie!!

word count. 10k. ( predicted )

hyde’s input. was hoping to finish and post this today in celebration of pedge's bday, but uni assignments got in the way and here i am posting a teaser instead of the full fic :(

nsfw beneath the cut, 18+ only !! ( unedited )

his only saving grace is that he can't see you.

hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.

burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint and up the crack of your behind.

"n- ah," you can't deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. "no, don't, not there."

next time, he thinks, we'll try that next time.

sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you'll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.

and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.

his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank's- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there's little that's remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he's sure you've spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he's come to anticipate each time tess tells him they're due a visit.

except, the oven door is made of glass.

glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island's counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he's envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he'd be able to bend and break you beneath his touch. and then there's him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.

the image will haunt him more than any man he's killed.

[plaexus]

love the fact that jm is simp for mj and the fact that mj loves ppl who simps for her (maybe she was describing jm all along) . made for each other fr

the trend of them describing each other when asked about their ideal types or preferred way of being loved actually makes me so delusional. mj having the pretty, soft, round type of face that jm likes and mj liking someone to flirt with her by being honest and only liking her take the cake. they treat each other so well that i'm not even surprised they can't help but describe the other when asked these questions by fans

anyway, i honestly try to think about jm and mj, and any idol for that matter, as complexly as i can. because they're multifaceted people who should not be defined by one specific behavior or personality trait and i find stereotypes a painfully reductive way of thinking about them. but jm as an mj simp is just so consistent with how she actually is that saying otherwise would just be a farse.

jm mentions mj constantly even when she's not directly involved, jm always tries to get her attention and when she gets it she just glows with happiness, when mj is in the room she's the only one jm notices so acutely, jm always chooses mj when asked about who her bias/soulmate/person she has good chemistry with is, etc. etc. honestly, this list can go on forever. jm is just so smitten with her and loves her thoroughly.

random additional thoughts:

i feel like jm genuinely measures time and thinks about things relative to a memory about mj (see: jm's bday greeting to gs, thinking of mj when writing an acrostic poem of her own name, etc.). jm is happy to orbit around mj's gravity

jm speaks about mj in measures of forever (see: "let's be forever together", "mj will play with me forever"). my phrasing is so cringe but jm is more cringe for being such a down bad lover girl

jm is equally as lucky because mj cares for her in all the possible ways she can. she buys her gifts she likes, spends time doing silly things with her, accompanies her when she goes for a drink. for all of her occasional brattiness and playing-hard-to-get-ness, mj chooses jm too with the way she acts

tl;dr jmj are perfect for each other and there is so much evidence to prove it