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brahms4thrackett · 1 year ago

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I am highly of the opinion wishful thinking that Something Else did happen on this night we haven’t seen, that really does seem to be a given the more I’ve watched this scene. If we take Aziraphale as an unreliable narrator (which we know he is given how much he left out of his resurrectionist diary entry) there is actually quite a lot missing from this minisode. The apology dance for one? I even feel like Crowley himself was a bit… dimmed? in Aziraphale’s account of that night. He doesn’t really have a lot of dialogue, he spends most of the time quietly watching in the background, as most of the action seems to revolve around Aziraphale as the star of his own narrative.

Anyway, back to the Something Else that might have happened. Something that may have led to 1967’s You Go Too Fast For Me moment.

Was it a kiss? Was it MORE? Did they almost get caught working (it) together for a second time in the same night? The fact that Shax says she’d heard they were a ITEM, not just working together makes me go Hmm, what would have given off that idea, since there was nothing really romantic, sexual or untoward in the theater fiasco to give that impression?

My HC is that they do get to a fumbling kiss or more, and either they get spooked, or Aziraphale looses his nerve… but given his heart eyes that evening this also seems unlikely, unless he really goes into Turbo-virgin mode and outright panics.

Hey, so...

Have you all noticed *how* Crowley and Aziraphale are drinking in 1941? And by this I mean... that they barely are? <wink>

Crowley has been drinking for millennia by this point. He gets drunk as Bildad the Shuite in 2500 B.C.. Aziraphale has been drinking since sometime prior to the scene in Rome, which is also when we see them drink together for the first time. *This* scene is 1941 so countless years and meet ups between Crowley and Aziraphale have taken place since and considering how these two drink together in other situations-- like how completely wasted they were in the "eleven years ago" scene in S1-- this one here in 1941 is *interesting.* Why?

Because friends, that is *one bottle of wine* on the table beside Aziraphale and I can still see wine in it above the label, which means what's currently in their glasses is less than the first half of the bottle... which means the glasses they are sharing now that Aziraphale just poured are their first drinks of the evening... and neither of them are really drinking much of it. That signals an intent not to drink very much at all-- the open bottle probably being plenty for the two of them. They're going slowly, without an intention to get drunk, but not really just to savor together a particularly interesting vintage. They don't seem to be noticing or tasting the wine at all. Aziraphale poured them both a good amount but not overkill but both of them so far in this scene just take cautious, *small* sips of the wine... and they don't need to conserve it, ok?

It's not the war. It's canon that Aziraphale has a case of Chateauneuf-de-Pape that he picked up in the 1920s sitting in the back of this shop at this very minute that he doesn't bust open until "Eleven Years Ago" in the future of S1 and Crowley is a bootlegger in this moment in history lol and also they're both literally magic. They could miracle wine from halfway around the world if they wanted to. There's wine to drink if they want to get drunk...

...and they both have silently agreed that they don't want to.

It is the *only* time that they drink together in a scene that we've seen where they have a mutual agreement to not drink that much. Even when Aziraphale *didn't drink*, he still got *food* drunk while Crowley was drinking in the Job minisode.

But when they're having a drink together in 1941, both of them are very clearly, by a kind of unspoken agreement from the vibes in the room, *not really drinking.* Just a little. A few sips that will lead to a glass or two a piece total, at most-- that bottle split between them would be a lot from the air of and the pace of them in this scene.

And I mean... forgetting for a moment that Aziraphale will get drunk without issue in other scenes, we all know Crowley, right? This Crowley...

In S1, part of *God's narration* lol includes that Crowley and Aziraphale had been drinking for six straight hours in the bookshop together in "Eleven Years Ago." Rome is one thing because they had just had just met up so we don't know how sloshed they got over oysters at Petronius' new restaurant (and would seem likely that they did) but in every other scene when they drink together, basically, they drink quite a bit and both of them usually wind up drunk, especially Crowley.

So why is 1941 different?

Because they're drinking like people who both want to mess around, that's why.

Yeah, people mess around while drunk and I'm sure the same can be said for any of the few Effort-curious angels and demons outside of these two but Crowley and Aziraphale are not a casual hookup to one another-- they're in love, they're best friends, and they haven't been together before after literal millennia of pining and yearning for it. It's not something that's happening while they're drunk. They want to be sober and for it to be special and the evening here in 1941 has really got everything lining up for a perfectly romantic night, if they want it to be. All the rescuing one another and little glances and now Aziraphale's asked Crowley back to the bookshop for a late night drink and they're both drinking like they want it to be tonight.

They're both silently telling one another they want something to happen by the fact that they're drinking with no intention to get drunk. They want to be present. They want to remember. They want each other's explicit consent so they're barely drinking the wine so that it's evident that if things get intimate, it's not because either or both of them are drunk, and no one has to stop over concern over that.

Aziraphale is looking at Crowley looking all dashing, unusually quiet for him, maybe a bit nervous and still hiding a little behind his glasses-- Hell's biggest lush taking the world's smallest, barely-there sip of that wine lol-- and is like how many more tiny sips do we need to take before I can crawl onto his lap...?

Aziraphale's like omg, the sex is going to be amazing... thank God I don't yet know in this moment that something-- like some Zombie Nazis, probably-- will stop us and we'll still be on trying to kiss one another 80 years from now...

#who said they were an item #Aziraphale is a turbo virgin #Crowley is a service top don’t try to change my mind #Crowley’s hat is still hanging in the bookshop present day when did he take it off??#you go too fast for me crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens 2 #good omens 1941 #good omens season 2

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dira333 · 19 days ago

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Unstoppable Force meets immovable Object - Tenya Iida x Reader

misunderstanding, friends to lovers - for @shoulmate for the Milestone Event Week 1

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Tenya is big, even at five years old.

He’s very respectful, always, though not always as careful with his hands.

“Ouch!” You hold your head, wondering about the size of the bump that’s going to come out where he hit you while waving, chopping through the air.

“I’m so sorry!” Tenya has a lisp too, barely there but only for those who know. You think it makes him sound extra sweet when he apologizes, when he repeats the word sorry over and over until he’s forgiven.

Your favorite Hero is the Space Hero: Thirteen, Tenya’s favorite Hero is his big brother.

“Turbo Hero: Ingenium!” He tells you to write it on every possible occasion because your handwriting is prettier and you can do the flashy letters that you often see on merch.

Childhood is easy with Tenya around, with his big hand around yours when you have to cross the street and his shoulder to cry on when you don’t get the best mark on your test, his earnestness when it comes to studying and his stupidly cute guilty smile when you manage to convince him to go play instead, knees muddy and faces stained with dirt.

Even when you have to part for the school year, for all three years of middle school, it’s nothing but a pebble in your path, just a few hours spent apart that make the time spent together all the more worthwhile.

“He said what?” You will ask, sitting crisscross applesauce on his bed as he retells his day at school and he will humm and haw as you practice makeup on him, figure out that mascara can also be used as a weapon and glittery eyeshadow really suits him.

And then summer will come and you will run out to play until evening, do your best to convince him to come to the beach with you, to just laze around instead of trying to break his record of how long he can swim without a break.

You will buy him an ice cream cone knowing he has more pocket money than you and sometimes, when the heat is going straight to your head, you will ask to have a taste of it and put your lips where his had been, thinking what it would be like to kiss him.

Tenya is home.

He is home in a way that hurts sometimes, when you want to be free, want to explore, and yet always come back.

When you take a step outside and look back only to find him waiting, yet never dare to open the doors you desperately want to peek behind.

- - -

“I’m going to U.A.,” Tenya tells you over the phone, quietly, because he should be in bed and you should be too.

“Oh,” you hesitate, looking down at your letter. You haven’t opened it yet.

You’re not sure if you want to go to U.A. too. You know what you want to do, work in Search and Rescue like Thirteen, but you don’t know if you can endure another three years with Tenya this close and yet so far away.

Though, what other choices do you have? You think about going away, to America, or just across the border. Tenya would still be here, only a phone call away, even closer in your mind.

So you open the letter with a jackhammer heart, find the sentence that matters in the jumble of words and don’t know if you’re supposed to be relieved or overcome with sadness.

“I’m going to U.A. too. Support Class.”

Tenya is fast and you are sturdy and yet you want to go, always go, further and farther than you have before, while he could care less if the earth stopped moving today, if he never got past the step he took this morning.

To him, growth is not about distance. To you, it’s nothing but.

Tenya’s Class is the one that gets attacked.

And though you’re surely not the last one informed, it feels that way.

Training sure is hard, even more so when you need to beat the Hero Class to get a shot at switching over, so you pretend you’re not disappointed when you see him less and less.

But then the Sports Festival Happens.

You’re not sure what feels worse.

Watching Mei Hatsume and Tenya fight, the sheer absurdity of it all, and the rumours already going around… or realizing that even after all this training, you’re still not good enough.

Your Quirk might not allow you to move mountains, but keeping them upright should not be met with this lack of interest.

You wonder, not without self-loathing, if the world forgot too that Atlas was carrying it still.

Tenya is home, but the doors are closed and your key lies inside.

You hear about Tensei from your parents, not him.

Your calls go to voicemail, your messages are left on read.

Maybe, if you could fly or throw a stone real good, you could make at least one last impression on him before he forgets you for real, but all you can do, will do, is make sure that his house will keep standing.

Tenya might have been your home, but you will survive not being his.

- - -

- One year later -

“Hey,” you look up from the newspaper in your hands, the morning dew cold under your feet.

For a hilariously awkward moment, you think it’s Tensei down by the gate, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun.

But Tensei’s still firmly tied to a wheelchair and this guy is standing upright.

“Hi?” You ask back, digging your toes into the ground.

“Can I- come in?”

“Sure,” you shrug your shoulders. “Mom and Dad are in the kitchen.”

You turn your back on him, which is a big no-no for every soon-to-be Hero so you turn around again, pinprick showers going up and down your back. “I’ll follow you in.”

“I’m here for you,” he announces, not one step closer to the front door.

“Oh.” Time freezes to a halt.

It’s been ages since you’ve last seen him in person. In the hallways after the Sports Festival in your first year, maybe?

Or that awkward last visit to his house when he pretended to be sleeping so his mom would send you back down to the living room? You heard that mumbling from the inside of his room, you’re not deaf.

He’s grown taller, yes, but there’s a roughness to him now, like one dragged sandpaper all over his features.

You’ve seen him on TV, fighting for his life, read articles about it too.

Your best friend, your very own personal Hero, Turbo Hero: Ingenium.

You always leave out the ex, thinking about him. It hurts too much, even on good days.

“Can I still come in?” Tenya asks.

“Why?”

He hesitates. “W-why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I-” He swallows. You wish he would step out of the sunlight. You long to see his eyes again, despite hating yourself for it. Are they still as blue as the deep blue sea?

“You’re not in school anymore.”

“I switched.” You swallow the pettiness that wants to make him ask. “I’m at Shiketsu now. Hero Class.”

“Why?”

You shrug. “There was nothing keeping me at U.A.”

It’s a lie and you wonder if he knows it. That you gave up, in more ways than one.

“I heard you fought in the war,” he adds now, still standing at the gate, still blocking out the sun. He’s stubborn, that one.

You snort against your own will. “That’s not fighting.”

“It is to me.”

You shrug. “Well,” you hesitate. Screw your heart for being too soft. “Do you wanna come in now or what?”

“I like your Hero Name,” Tenya adds in the privacy of your room, his voice too quiet for a boy this tall. “Atlas. Like the Titan, right?”

“Hmm,” you make, trying not to notice how his knee just knocked into yours, or how warm it is, skin pressed against skin.

“I-” Tenya hesitates again. “I need to tell you something…. about myself.”

So you sit there, listening, as he tells you about a man named Stain and the revelation that there’s more darkness hiding in a kind man’s soul than the two of you could ever have imagined.

“But I’m…” Tenya closes his hand into a fist. “I’m good now, I think. Better, at least. Worthy to be called a Hero, maybe. If you… if you can forgive me. For how I treated you. I pushed you away because I didn’t want to…” Helpless he moves his hands around, narrowly avoiding your head.

“Sorry,” he says, but without the lisp you haven’t craved hearing as much as you do today.

You sit there, with your hurt and your longing, looking at him. Knowing that he’s not the only one with a secret, though his had been darker than yours.

“I want to forgive you,” you admit. “And I wonder if that makes me a pushover. Because I always forgive you, you know. Even when you eat the last of my fries or make me do extra laps.” You only realize you’re talking in present tense when he smiles, shyly, back at you.

“But I cannot go back to just being friends, you know? I have… feelings for you, Tenya. Have had them for quite a while. And I can’t just be just friends again.”

He nods, turns his eyes up to the ceiling as if the answer to all questions is written there to see.

“I talked about this, a lot, with… uh… Shouto and Izuku, my friends. Ochako too. I’m not an expert on this, by far, but I… never questioned, that we’d be together, you know?”

You sigh. “At one point-”

“No,” he interrupts you softly, “not like that, I…” His hand reaches out, rests warm and heavy on your knee, like a hiker putting his hand on the first boulder of a mountain. “Like forever. Together, forever, the two of us. I just… didn’t know I had to tell you.”

And it’s there, his confession, in the faint red on his cheeks and the softness in his eyes, how he can’t fully look you in the eyes, but can’t look away either.

And unbidden, a question comes into your mind.

What happens if an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?

There’s only one way to find out.

- - -

Turbo Hero: Ingenium. That is Tenya, tall, handsome, yours.

He smiles when he sees you at work, always respectful and always a little bit too much of a fanboy.

“It’s Pro Hero Atlas!” He whispers in awe when he watches, useless, as you carry buildings on your shoulders, put them back where they belong.

Sometimes, when he’s feeling petty, he helps you start arguments with Pro Hero Dynamight, just to watch you win - you’ve got the public opinion in your bag after all.

He’s very respectful, always, carries your bags up from the car and pretends not to notice when you eat ice cream before dinner.

But he’s very human too, forgetting his phone at home and his wallet at work, tends to try and shoulder his worries alone when he’s got you to share the load.

Life isn’t easy but it’s easier with Tenya around.

With his big hand around yours when you cross the street and his shoulder to cry on when you don’t get to save everyone. His earnestness when it comes to safety and his stupidly cute guilty smile when you convince him to take a cheat day, laze around and eat cake for breakfast, mix the flavors with a well-meaning kiss.

Even when you have to part for work it’s nothing but a pebble in your path, just a few hours spent apart that make the time spent together all the more worthwhile.

“Shouto did what?” You will ask, sitting crisscross applesauce on his lap as he retells his day at work and he will humm and haw as you try Cosplay on him, figure out that he can totally pull off a bold red lip with the Shouto-Costume you bought.

Tenya is home.

He is home in a way that hurts sometimes, when you worry if it will hold out against every storm, when you figure out another thing that needs renovating, replacing, not just decorating.

He’s willing to work on it, leaves the doors open for the sun to come in, knowing you’ll be here for the rain too.

#my writing #bnha x reader #bnha #mha x reader #mha #mha fluff #bnha fluff #angst to fluff #tenya x reader #tenya iida #tenya #ingenium #ingenium x reader #ingenium fluff #tenya fluff #iida fluff #milestone event

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aninonimosstuff-blog · 9 days ago

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@samson-the-whale (Sam Gram)/ @lazymonth (Nitrø)

#wir #wreck it ralph #turbotime #art #oc #turbotastic #turbotime oc #turbotime sona #drawing #wir oc #oc x canon #canon x oc #fast x turbo #turbo x fast #the others arent my ocs #go follow the tagged ppl #they are amazing #ik i screw up the clothes detail pls have mercy lazymonth ily thank u 🙏#😭😭😭😭😭

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morally-incorrect-turbotastic · 4 days ago

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GUESS WHO SAID YES?~

#turbo #turbo wir #turbo wreck it ralph #turbotastic #turbotime #oc x canon #canon x oc #turbo x fast #fast x turbo #if i put the rings wrong i apologize i am a bit dislexic and i get confused a lot on which is left or right so pls bare with me #plus they have four fingers lmao #turbo rearranged some furniture hope u don't mind guys

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samson-the-whale · 11 days ago

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Characters:

Turbo (WIR)

Fast ( @aninonimosstuff-blog )

Gram (myne)

Song: cest toi

Translation:

It's you

It's you she prefers

It's not the hole song because I'm lazy lol

#silly #wir #wreck it ralph #turbotime sona #turbotime oc #sam gram #oc #turbo wreck it ralph #fast #hartbreak #them 💙💛#turbo x fast

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hamsterclaw · 11 months ago

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Black Ice

Bangtan Christmas drabble 7 - read the rest here.

Min Yoongi only cares about three things. The thrill of drifting, his friends, and cars, in that order. Somehow, you've got under his skin. Part of the Drift Kings AU.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Street racer/mechanic! Yoongi, smut

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Min Yoongi knows loneliness. He knows the unrelenting ache of it, the way it permeates every aspect of one’s psyche.

He knows what it feels like to look for a connection that isn’t there.

When he was ten his father took him into work for the first time, and it was then, amongst the smells of engine oil and new paint and pinewood air freshener, that Yoongi discovered his first true love.

He pored over engine diagrams, admired the easy simplicity of every tool falling into its destined purpose, got used to his clothes being stained from tuning up cars all day long.

He’d loved every minute of it, and the truth is, he still does.

Then his cousin Yijin had given him a lift down Mount Samo one day, and 14 year old Yoongi had learned that there was more than one way to soar.

He learned to drive navigating the hairpin bends of Mount Samo, and although he’s perfected the art of drifting up and down it, could do it blindfolded a hundred times over, the thrill of it has never really faded.

He’s picked up a collection of friends over the years, all of whom love the adrenaline of street racing – not knowing what’s round the corner, trusting your own reflexes and instincts to save you when you can barely see for the blood rushing in your veins.

Kim Seokjin, his oldest and closest friend, the chaebol prince who can put together a Supra’s turbo-2JZ engine almost as quickly as Yoongi himself. His sister, a corporate princess who makes Yoongi’s heart soften and the opposite happen to his cock. They’re the two people Yoongi would do anything for, not that he’d ever tell them that.

Jung Hoseok, the gifted mechanic with a heart of gold and the sunniest demeanour Yoongi’s ever been able to tolerate, creature of the night that he is.

Jeon Jungkook, the baby fuckboi of the group, a man with the looks of a god and the persona of a baby deer. Yoongi finds it hard to be anything but endeared by his earnest good nature and anything but amused by his swaggering. Maybe one day the kid will grow into the bad man he so badly wants to be, but Yoongi hopes not. He’s great the way he is.

It’s been a while since Yoongi felt lonely, in fact his life’s pretty good right about now.

And at this exact moment? It’s perfect.

Yoongi’s senses are on overdrive as he swings into a hairpin bend on Mount Samo, tires gripping tarmac sideways. His foot taps the throttle, his hand on the handbrake just in case but he doesn’t need it, he knows the terrain so well his body’s reacting on instinct.

Sideways on he can see Seokjin to his right, composed, barely breaking a sweat as his rear wheels scrape the very edge of the path, inches from the steep drop.

Yoongi catches sight of himself in his own rearview mirror, teeth bared in a feral grin as he shoots out onto the final stretch, so fast there’s nothing to see but black.

He’d normally stop, celebrate his win with a cigarette, but he’s got somewhere to be tonight.

Behind him now, Seokjin’s headlamps flicker in lieu of a goodbye.

Yoongi depresses the horn, a sharp short blast, and then he’s gone.

***

Kang Yubin’s been supplying Yoongi’s father’s garage for years, and Yoongi’s been going to him for car parts since before he knew a spark plug from a catalytic converter.

The Kang warehouse has an unassuming front in an industrial estate on the outskirts of Seoul. Yoongi parks outside the familiar glass door, can see the dim lighting filtering through the tinted glass as he approaches.

He pushes open the door, stops, nonplussed.

Instead of Kang Yubin’s steel-rimmed glasses and grey hair, he’s greeted by you.

Half your face is obscured by a black face mask, your hair up under a baseball cap, but you’re definitely not who he expected to see.

He blinks.

Your eyebrows rise.

‘Are you lost?’ you inquire, an edge to your voice that pulls him out of his surprised reaction and reminds him why he’s here.

‘I was expecting Mr Kang,’ Yoongi replies.

Coming closer to the counter he picks up on a guardedness to your posture, a weariness that you don’t bother to hide.

‘I’m his granddaughter,’ you say, brief. ‘I’m guessing you didn’t just come here to stare at me, what do you want?’

‘Spark plugs – I have a —’ Yoongi breaks off as you get up.

‘I know who you are, and I know what car you drive. Stay here and I’ll get you your stuff.’

You disappear behind a door, return in minutes with a cardboard box.

You pull a box-cutter out of a desk drawer, slit the masking tape, pull the flaps up.

‘Feel free to take a look,’ you say, looking at him.

It doesn’t take long for Yoongi to verify that they’re what he needs.

‘How do you know who I am?’ he asks, as he pays.

There’s a faint spark in your eyes, a flicker so quick he wonders if he’s mis-read it.

‘My grandfather said you were due around this time.’

You nudge your shoulder vaguely in the direction of the screen to your left, a view from the camera overlooking the front of the warehouse. ‘Not many people drive a car like that.’

You take his money, nudge the box in his direction.

‘Pleasure doing business, Min Yoongi. I’ll give my grandfather your regards.’

You’re already looking back down at your phone like you’ve dismissed him.

Yoongi picks up the box, casts another glance at you, and leaves.

He’s still thinking about you when he reaches home.

***

Yoongi’s concentrating so hard on the engine in front of him that he barely hears Seokjin approach.

‘Dinner?’ asks Seokjin, eyes flicking over the V configuration of the 8 chrome cylinders in the custom Nissan with interest.

Yoongi leans back, massages the crick in his neck from leaning over.

‘Yeah. Quick though, the client wants a rush on this.’

They exchange a look.

‘More money than sense,’ Seokjin says, critical.

‘Pays the bills,’ Yoongi counters.

They have similar opinions about rich clients who want their supercars tuned up. It’s rare that a client’s got the ability to do justice to the horsepower under the bonnet of the flashy exteriors.

Yoongi shrugs, goes to wash his hands.

‘Is your sister coming?’ he asks.

Seokjin’s still admiring the engine. ‘Not tonight. Jimin’s in town,’ he says. ‘There’s a race later, if you change your mind. I’m meeting Jungkook after dinner.’

‘Is he still sulking over Mijin?’ Yoongi asks, falling into step beside Seokjin.

There’s no need to confirm where they’re going, they always stop at a tiny restaurant run by an elderly woman who seems utterly unimpressed by their good manners but makes the best broth in town.

Seokjin rolls his eyes, but his tone is sympathetic. ‘You know how it is. People never expect him to be as soft as he really is.’

Yoongi nods. ‘Tell him if she can’t appreciate him she’s the one missing out.’

Seokjin snorts. ‘Tell him yourself, he’ll love it. Are you coming to Seulgi’s party?’

It’s rare that Yoongi goes out at night, he’s busy and he does his best work at night time, both in the workshop and on the streets, but he’d promised Seokjin he’d go.

‘Next week?’ he asks.

Seokjin nods, pushes open the door to the restaurant.

‘Yeah, don’t forget.’

***

Seulgi is a friend of Seokjin’s, they’d dated briefly, years back, but it hadn’t worked out.

She greets Seokjin enthusiastically at the door, the pink flush on her cheeks deepening as Seokjin gives her an affectionate hug.

She beams at Yoongi, and he smiles back because he’s not proof against her cheerful nature.

It’s how he became friends with Hoseok, after all.

‘Drinks, let me get you drinks,’ Seulgi cheers, leading them into her kitchen.

Seokjin’s swept away by Seulgi and her friends, he’s always been a popular guy. He shoots Yoongi a look as he’s pulled into the lounge, which Yoongi pretends not to see.

He lifts his cup to his lips, decides to go outside for a bit.

The deck outside has a few scattered people, mostly couples, some groups.

Yoongi leans against the wall, looks around idly. The throbbing bass of the music feels like a heartbeat. The night is cold and crisp, the skies clear, but there aren’t any stars visible in Seulgi’s backyard.

He lets his mind wander to his next project, restoring a classic Toyota for a friend from the circuit. He’ll need parts.

He wonders if you’ll be behind the counter when he next goes to the Kang warehouse. Then he’s straightening up, unsure if he’s manifested you into reality.

He’s never seen your full face, but he’d know your eyes anywhere.

You’re standing across the deck, looking straight at him, coat open over a dress that shows a hell of a lot more than the hoodie and sweats you had on the last time he saw you.

For the first time tonight, Yoongi feels a prickle of interest.

He’d known you’d be beautiful, there’d been something about the way you carried yourself.

You’re still looking at him.

Yoongi walks over.

‘Who’s manning the warehouse?’ he asks, when he gets close enough.

You tilt your head. ‘Are you really so concerned about my family business, Min Yoongi?’

There’s a mocking note in your voice, Yoongi finds he likes it.

‘You have the best quality parts,’ he says.

Your smile blooms over your face, making your eyes bright. ‘I knew there was a reason my grandfather liked you.’

Yoongi nods to your dress. ‘You look pretty.’

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘You look pretty too.’

Yoongi can feel his lips curving. Are you flirting with him? Seems like you are.

He’s all for it.

You’re raising your cup now, taking a sip.

In the night time lighting, your lips glisten with moisture and whatever lipstick you’ve got on, making him wonder what they’d look like around his cock.

You eye him like you know exactly what he’s thinking.

Yoongi says, ‘Do you like cars? Want to see mine?’

***

You’ve got your legs either side of his torso, your ass bouncing in his lap, and Yoongi’s front seat’s reclined all the way to make room for you to ride him.

The lines of your beautiful body are reminiscent of a triumph of masters of Italian design. Long smooth thighs, tightening around him with every rhythmic thrust.

The curves of your breasts, bouncing right in his face.

The long line of your neck, head thrown back, the pulse in your throat fluttering as he holds your hips so he can fuck you back, fuck up into your sweet warmth.

His cock fits inside you like he was made for you, and god fucking damn, you feel so good around him he’s on a hair trigger.

Yoongi cups the back of your head, tugs you down so you’re close. Goosebumps prickle your flesh as he tells you how good you are.

Your eyes close as he kisses your bare neck, flicks his tongue against your skin.

You had been whimpering steadily as your arousal dripped down onto him, soaking his balls, pooling at the base of his cock, and as Yoongi picks up the pace he’s gratified by the hitch in your breathing.

Yoongi’s always been damn good at helping his partners find their pleasure, and he’s sure as hell not going to stop now.

Your breasts are still in his face, half out the low neck of your dress, chest heaving.

Yoongi rubs his thumb over the outline of your hardened nipple, and you cry out, muffled with your mouth against his skin but still loud enough to make his ears ring.

His balls tighten up even more as your walls flutter around him, and Yoongi would know you were coming even if you hadn’t gasped it.

God, you’re so sweet and sexy he’s lost.

He can feel your panting breaths against his neck, the weight of your warm body as it goes lax after your peak, the sweet grip of your cunt taking in everything he has to give you as he releases, a pulse of pleasure so intense it sends shockwaves through his skin.

Yoongi’s floating, and like reaching the summit of Mount Samo, he immediately wants to do it again.

You’re looking at him, lips still so swollen and pretty his spent cock gives a residual throb inside you.

‘Like my car?’ Yoongi asks. It’s stupid, but it makes you laugh and he’ll be as stupid as you like if it makes you sound like that.

Your chin lifts, and you say, ‘It’s all right.’

The flash of merriment in your eyes gives you away.

Yoongi laughs. ‘Maybe next time we can get the car started and I can actually take you somewhere.’

‘I don’t know,’ you tease. ‘Are you a good driver?’

Yoongi reaches out, tucks the lock of hair that’s fallen over your eye behind your ear.

‘Let’s find out,’ he says. ‘Where do you want to go?’

***

Yoongi’s thinking about you the next morning when he wakes up. He’d ended up taking you back to your place, where you’d kissed him sweetly at the door and bid him goodbye like a promise to see him again.

His phone rings and he’s still got you on his mind, so it takes a second for him to regroup.

‘The maknae needs help,’ Seokjin says, no preamble. ‘I’m going to swing by yours, be there in ten.’

Yoongi hangs up, wonders what the hell Jungkook’s got himself into this time.

By the time Seokjin arrives, Yoongi’s had time to bolt coffee and change, but Seokjin still raises a brow as he swings into the passenger seat.

As always, Seokjin’s impeccably dressed, dark hair swept back from his forehead like he’s going to his own fucking wedding instead of about to deal with some shit that’s going down.

Yoongi suppresses a yawn, tugs his beanie down over his brow.

‘What’s going down with JK?’ he asks.

Seokjin cuts off another car so smoothly they’re halfway down the intersection before the irritated horn blares.

‘Remember that race the other day? Jungkook beat Seungho fair and square, I was there.’

Yoongi groans. ‘The fuck. I thought we weren’t going to race that fragile asshole anymore.’

Seokjin glances in the rearview. ‘The maknae was still hurting over Mijin, I thought an easy win might make him feel better.’

‘So what’s Seungho done?’

‘Brought in the big guns,’ Seokjin says grimly. ‘Called in some guys from Hongkong. JK’s with them now.’

Now Yoongi’s fully awake. ‘Should’ve taken my car instead of this piece of shit,’ he says.

Seokjin just laughs. ‘Don’t worry about my car, Yoongi. Maybe think of a way to hide that big–ass hickey on your neck.’

‘Suck my dick,’ Yoongi says, like they’re 16 again.

‘Looks like someone already did,’ Seokjin returns.

***

Yoongi parks up outside the Kang warehouse, pushes open the door.

You look up from your phone. Your face mask is off, so Yoongi has the privilege of seeing the way your lips curve in a smile.

‘There’s been a shipment of fuel injectors,’ you say. ‘Want to take a look?’

Yoongi stops just in front of the wooden half-panel that separates you from him.

He tilts his head.

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Also, I took my friend’s Honda for a spin today, I’ve got a list.’

He smooths out the piece of paper he’s got folded in his pocket, places it on the counter.

You pick it up, get up. ‘I’ve got you.’

Yoongi runs a hand over the hickey over his neck. ‘I’ve been taking shit all day, about this,’ he adds.

‘Yeah?’ you ask, but you don’t seem the least bit contrite. ‘You did your share of marking, Min Yoongi.’

Yoongi asks, ‘What time do you get off?’

You’re about to answer when the door opens.

Yoongi turns and tenses immediately.

Fucking Shin Seungho.

‘You following me?’ he asks mildly.

Seungho scoffs, doesn’t deign to reply.

‘I’m collecting an order,’ he says to you.

Your face mask is back on, your face carefully blank. ‘Sure, what’s the name?’

When you go into the back to collect it Seungho turns to Yoongi.

Yoongi concentrates on the silkscreen of a cat on the wall behind the counter.

He can feel Seungho’s eyes on his face.

Just try it, fucker.

The fact was, he’d pushed Seokjin’s Honda to its limits beating Seungho’s friends today, and although the adrenaline’s ebbed, there’s a thin streak still running through his bloodstream, and he’s a spark away from igniting.

Seungho takes a step closer, and Yoongi turns to face him like he’s got all the time in the world.

You return just as Seungho opens his filthy mouth.

‘Looks like you’ve paid,’ you say, passing the box across the counter to Seungho.

You pull out the box cutter, slit the package, open it up for him to check, but don’t put it down.

‘Am I going to have trouble here, boys?’ you ask.

Seungho barely looks your way, Yoongi’s always known the man lacks vision.

‘Nah,’ Seungho says finally. He picks up the box, sneers at Yoongi.

Yoongi blanks his expression. There’s no way he’s going to start shit with Seungho in front of you.

The asshole’s not worth it.

As soon as the door closes behind Seungho you put down the box cutter.

The next words out of your mouth surprise him.

‘Shit, you’re hot when you’re mad, Yoongi.’

Yoongi stares at you, flummoxed, then he laughs.

‘Just when I’m mad?’ he asks.

You shrug. ‘Take me out on a date and I’ll tell you more.’

‘How about right now?’ Yoongi asks.

‘Yeah,’ you say. ‘Let’s go.’

***

As your grip on his hair loosens, Yoongi lifts his mouth from your cunt, swipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Helps you tug your panties back up, smooths your skirt back down over your thighs.

He notices you’ve still got his cum in the corner of your lips. As he watches, you flick your tongue out, lick delicately.

His cock stirs with interest, and you act like you know it.

‘More later?’ you ask.

‘Yeah. After I win.’

Yoongi reaches over to help you with your seatbelt, arranging it across your chest, between your breasts, securing it.

You lean forward and kiss him as the belt clicks into place.

Yoongi starts the engine, turns the heating back on because he’s noticed your hands get cold easily.

‘I can drop you off at home before the race,’ he offers. ‘Come see you after.’

‘I want to see you drive,’ you say.

Yoongi wouldn’t say it, but he’s pleased. He knows he’ll keep you safe, it’s a circuit through the city outskirts he’s done a million times, and he’s looking forward to you meeting Seokjin and Hoseok and Jungkook.

He flicks on the lights, rolls into oncoming traffic. Heads North.

By the time he pulls up to the starting line there’s the usual crowd gathered. He parks up next to Seokjin and Hoseok.

In his rearview he can see JK surrounded by people. He’s lost the sad puppy air he had for a few weeks whilst he was pining after Mijin. The kid’s going to be all right, not that Yoongi’s ever had any doubt about that.

Engines all around him are starting up, a deafening series of rumbles.

Beside him, Seokjin waves, and Hoseok smiles so brightly it’s blinding.

The flag waves, and Yoongi accelerates.

Checks on you in the rearview, and you’re as pretty as he remembers.

Min Yoongi’s spent a lot of his life looking for connection, and by his reckoning, he’s doing pretty well right about now.

Lights flash by in a blur.

Yoongi drives.

Author note: And that's a wrap! Thank you for reading, hope you've enjoyed, here's to a brighter 2024. This time last year we were saying goodbye to Kim Seokjin, I can't wait to start welcoming the boys back again. Happy holidays to you all!

#bangtan christmas #bangtan christmas 2023 #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #min yoongi fanfic

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