#i like low key have a weird thing about my birthday

[chippdhearts]

.

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 1

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 6.3k hehe (approx. 25 mins to read)

Posting date: October 9, 2024

Notes: So it’s my birthday, y'all. 🎂 Hope you enjoy this little treat! 🎈And let me know if anyone wants to be tagged for future chapters. Just leave a comment. Formatting this better soon, really just wanted to get this out!

Your first meeting with Min Yoongi goes exactly as you expected: awkward as hell.

The day kicked off with some solid foreshadowing. 

On the subway, you somehow managed to sit directly on someone’s hand, giving yourself a completely unsolicited grope for breakfast. Awkward. 

Then you hit your usual café, chatting with your mom on the phone while waiting for your drink. Just as the barista handed over your order, you wrapped up the call with a bright and cheery “love you!”—only to realize too late that the barista thought it was meant for him. Awkward.

Things only got weirder from there. As you checked your emails on your phone, you walked straight into a pole, and you made eye contact with a cat who just looked at you, tail swaying, like it was somehow pleased with your suffering.

So naturally, you hoped that your first day with Min Yoongi wouldn’t follow the same cursed trend. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky.

You can feel the office buzzing with excitement as you step in, but you’ve all been told to keep it low-key. Nobody is allowed to make a big deal about him, but in some ways, that just makes it an even bigger deal. You’ve refrained from searching his name on Naver. It’s enough that you know him as 1/7 of South Korea’s biggest boyband. You don’t need to stalk him because that’s just gonna make this weird.

Speaking of weird, the female security guard gives you a wink as you clock in, and you return with a simple nod back, because honestly you’re tired of being treated like you wanted this. Like you asked for this “opportunity”. Some of the girls have called you the "blessed one" to have been chosen to work alongside him in your small, shoebox office. Truthfully, you don’t really care as long as he gets the job done.

But you're feeling scared for many reasons you can’t quite express, the pressure mostly coming from the fact that every fucking person in this office is so motherfuckin’ wet for this dude. Is he even that hot? Nobody is that hot for real. Unless it’s Cha Eun Woo (you just picked up the new Vogue issue and ooof)–now that is a different story.

Your throat is dry as hell, and your stomach is in knots. There’s no time to freak out though as you just received a ping that he’s on his way. 

You clear your throat, adjust your stance, and try to appear composed and professional, despite the fact that your insides are churning. You spot your tiny plastic garbage can on the corner of the room, in case you need to hurl, but the garbage lady forgot to line it again for fuck’s sake.

You pull your knit sweater down to cover the tiny belt that holds your linen pants, the only thing holding something together in this room, ‘cos you are actually spiraling–kind of?

Fuck he’s here.

The doors to your office open, making the little wind chime you hung there tinkle, and you spot the top of his head from behind the pudgy middle-aged guy that walks in front of him—your boss. Two men flank him, one of them you know as someone from his company, because he was the one doling out NDAs the other day like how they do beef jerky samples in the supermarket. The other, more buff guy, his bodyguard, most likely. Until you know their real names, you’ll call them Beef Jerky and Beefy.

Okay, focus.

Min Yoongi finally steps into your line of vision. 

Dressed in his military uniform, he was quiet, unassuming, expression unreadable. His eyes were pretty sharp, a bit intimidating, like he was thinking about something more important than whatever this is. His hair was a bit messy in the front, but somehow it worked for him. He wasn’t huge or anything, just lean and kinda laid-back, with this easy posture that made it seem like he didn’t really care who was looking. Honestly, nothing too special. 

But then, there was his aura, something you couldn’t quite ignore. It wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was this energy about him, like the room shifted just a little when he walked in. He didn’t have to say a damn thing, yet somehow, you found yourself aware of him. It wasn’t just his looks. It was the way he carried himself, calm and confident, like he didn’t need to prove anything. Must be nice to be rich and powerful…

“Miss?” Beef Jerky leans to his side to get into your sightline.

Shit, what did he say? Anyway, you shake your head, and proceed to just introduce yourself.

“Hello, I’m the manager,” you bow, perhaps too stiffly. “I’ll be overseeing your work during your service here.”

He bows politely, too, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away. “I’m Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you,” he says in a tone that feels blunt, almost rehearsed.

Your boss Hyun-woo, who you recently found out is his distant uncle, stands beside him, clapping his shoulder. “You are in good hands here, Yoongi. She’s my best, most trusted employee in this entire office.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a wave of self-consciousness as you struggle to make the interaction less awkward. You close your fists willing yourself to get a fuckin’ grip.

“I will leave you both to get acquainted.”

Your boss along with the two individuals leave the room. The door closes with a soft click.

Annoyingly, something is stuck in your throat and you clear it with a quick sip from this comically huge-sized tumbler your roommate got for you when you had a pesky bout of UTI last year.

“I’ve, uh, prepared your tasks for today.” You gesture to his desk, quickly pulling up the list of assignments on your tablet. You show him his username and password scribbled on a post-it by the monitor. He picks it up and inspects it. You spend time explaining the basics of the work here. Word processing. Nothing to it really. It’s about efficiency, accuracy, and confidentiality, because of the many private government records that you handle day to day.

“Do you have any questions?”

Crickets.

The office feels larger now, the silence between you echoing awkwardly. “Ooo-kay. If you don’t have any questions, that’s fine. But don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything I can help you with,” you add, hoping to sound approachable but instead sounding robotic, like an email sign off. You wince inwardly.

He just nods again, offering nothing more. He sits and picks up the paper on the top of the file. You guess that’s your cue to leave. And by leave, you mean round his table so you can sit on yours, the one across from him.

You walk back with this weird stutter in your chest. For a moment, you wonder if he finds you too formal. It’s not like you’re trying to be intimidating, but professionalism has been your go-to ever since the promotion. And it’s not like you need to wow him with your personality, so you can become fast friends. If the NDA you signed was to be taken to heart, it would be better to not establish any form of relationship with him outside of team lead and team member, what with the exorbitant number of potential violations and potential fines for breaking it.

When his keyboard starts clickety-clacking, dread sinks in your stomach that it’s going to be like this every day—strictly business, no small talk, no casual exchanges. You’re not the most sociable person, but once in a while, you do appreciate a bit of interaction. You sigh internally, returning to your own tasks, trying not to overthink the situation anymore. For now, at least.

Throughout the morning, you cannot help but steal glances at him. Damn, what skin care does he use? He literally looks radiant, like he’s glowing from within. Fuck, you have to look away because this is precisely why they trusted you to take him under your wing. You are a consummate professional, not a creep like the girls from accounting, especially trampy Danbi. You chalk it to unfamiliarity and curiosity, which you know you will quickly overcome. But for now you cut yourself some slack. Obviously, there was a legit celebrity in the room, and he seems to radiate some undeniable aura. It also feels strange to have someone else in this tiny office that you’ve occupied alone for so long.

Honestly, you’re still baffled as to why he was assigned to you, specifically. Well, that’s not entirely true. You know it’s because Hyun-woo has blind trust in you, having seen you as one of his go-to employees. Truth be told, you think he treats you like a niece. Is that weird? Maybe. He lets you assist some of the other artists who’ve come through for personal or one-time projects and you have always delivered for him, never engaging in any office gossip.

But still, you can’t shake the feeling of frustration. Why did this have to happen to you? You just got your promotion and were so excited to mentor someone, to be that “cool boss” you always envisioned. But now you’re stuck with this temp—who’s really not a temp but a world-renowned idol. It’s all so awkward.

Once in a while you catch him yawning, so in a desperate bid to cut through the tension, you ask, “Um, do you like coffee?”

He shifts to sit straighter. “Nah, I’m good. Thank you.” he responds, quickly looking your way and training his eyes back to the screen, hands typing away.

You nod, feeling slightly deflated. “Right. Got it.” 

The day drags on, and you can’t shake off the feeling of being an over-eager manager trying too hard. 

Within the first week, you discover very quickly that Yoongi is all about business. He is just here to finish his service as discreetly as possible. He clocks in on time, disappears for an hour for breaks, and clocks out on time as well. You don’t know where he disappears during those breaks, but you suspect in Hyun-woo’s office to get more privacy. He barely speaks to you. He greets you with a small bow in the morning and responds with a grunt or a hum. It’s all very… whatever. It is what it is, so you stop trying to be anything but his boring manager. You hand him his tasks every morning, check his output by EOD, like clockwork.

Unfortunately, it was one of those manic Mondays. The pile of documents grows faster than you can manage. Calls keep coming in, requests needing immediate attention, and your desk looks like the utter chaos that is the inside of your brain. You glance at Yoongi across from you—he’s focused, calm, completely unfazed by the sudden rush.

“Do you need help with that?” His voice startles you, low and soft. You honestly even forgot how it sounded, having little to no interaction everyday.

Before you can respond, he’s already pulling the spare chair from the corner and is at your side, sorting through the forms. His hands move with unexpected speed, and soon, the paperwork starts shrinking. You offer a weak smile, trying to appear professional. “Thanks. I wasn’t expecting today to be so hectic.”

He only nods in response, his focus entirely on the task at hand. You glance at him, noticing for the first time how sharp his features are up close—dark eyes, cute pointy nose, and freckles dusting some parts of his cheeks. His tongue, pink and moist, peeks out from the side of his lips as he concentrates. Ok, you need to look away RIGHT NOW.

You’re aware of the attraction most women probably feel for someone like him. Exhibit A—Danbi, who cornered you that morning in the toilet “for the scoop” and you’re sick of her. But if you’ll be honest, it’s hard not to notice that Yoongi indeed has a… pleasant face. But you are a professional. Yes, you are. This whole mysterious, brooding vibe is not going to get to you attracted to him in any way, shape, or form. You’re his manager. You signed those NDAs. Never mind that his lips are just the perfect shape, pouty, plush… and smirking.

Shit. He’s smirking because you’re caught.

You look away hastily and start opening some random file in your computer and pretend to be immersed reading it. In truth, you need some air, but it would be too damn obvious if you stepped away.

A few minutes pass in silence. You’ve quelled the initial onslaught of hormones and are back to work mode. You’re happy that he is so efficient and you smile as you get through the initial bulk of paperwork. You’re starting to relax, getting into the familiar groove of getting a file and processing it, until your fingers accidentally brush against his while reaching for the same folder. The touch is brief, but it sends a jolt through you, your heart stuttering in response. You glance up, half-expecting another awkward moment (because you can’t stop feeling like such a fool in front of him), but Yoongi remains composed, as he pulls his hand away and waits for you to take the document.

You do, but your pulse quickens. Just an accident, you tell yourself. He probably didn’t even notice. And if he did, he probably doesn’t care.

But now, as you continue working side by side, there’s an unspoken understanding. You realize, despite his quiet demeanor, he’s someone you can rely on, someone who won’t leave you stranded when things get tough. And that’s actually really nice. It’s what you wanted when Hyun-woo said you were going to have a team. Granted it’s just the two of you for now, but still, it’s nice to have a partner.

Later in the week, you find yourself in the break room, needing a coffee fix. There was a place down the street with cheap and good coffee, but unfortunately you didn’t have the time to pop in with so much work on your desk. So free and awful coffee it is today. 

You enter just in time to see Yoongi struggling with the coffee machine. You have never seen him anywhere else in the building apart from your office, so this was quite a surprise. 

“Need a hand?” you ask tentatively, stepping closer.

“I think I broke it,” he replies, hearing exasperation in his voice for the very first time. 

“Hang on, let me,” you unplug and plug the machine, fiddle with some of the buttons, waiting for it to sputter to life. 

You’re leaning against the counter, waiting for the coffee machine to wake up. You know it takes forever, but it’s too familiar at this point. Yoongi stands next to you, his usual quiet self, hands in his pockets. 

“I’ve timed it,” you say dryly, glancing at him. “Two minutes and forty seconds.”

He watches the machine as if expecting it to hurry up. “Been here for more than that.”

You smirk. “Maybe it’s on a break.”

He quirks an eyebrow, barely suppressing a smile. “I’ll try that excuse next time.”

You hand Yoongi his coffee, mumbles a thanks, and waits for you to finish yours before both of you settle into the break room’s small table. It’s past lunch, and you know neither of you have eaten, so you reach for the cold ham and cheese sandwiches stashed in the fridge. “Hope you don’t mind,” you say, sliding one across to him.

He looks at it for a moment before picking it up. “I’ve had worse.”

“High praise.”

He takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Could be worse. Could be that coffee.”

You raise your cup in mock agreement. “Fair point. Don’t even know why I drink this shit. I mean this thing.” You slap a hand over your mouth. Did you just curse in front of your subordinate? Government offices are a stickler for these things, being on the traditional side.

He chuckles at your shocked expression, and teases, “Isn’t that a code of conduct violation?”

You gnaw at your lip, suppressing the smile that wants to stretch out, but you fail. “It is. But you’re no snitch.”

He motions to zip his lips and throws an imaginary key over his shoulder. Dork.

The conversation lingers in that easy rhythm. You talk about the workload, the other departments, nothing too personal. You glance over at him, noticing how more at ease he seems, as if he’s getting used to being here—around you.

“How long have you worked here?” he leans back, stretching his arm out on the back of the chair beside him.

“Five years,” you respond, tapping the side of your lip with a napkin.

“Do you ever get tired of it?” he asks suddenly.

You blink, slightly taken aback by how blunt he is. You clarify, on guard, “Tired of what exactly?”

He gestures around. “The office. The routine.” He keeps his eyes trained on you, which is a rarity as he always seems to be looking at you but never directly like that. That’s when you knew his question was sincere. That he wasn’t trying to offend you, just trying to get to know you.

You shrug. “Sometimes. But it’s not that bad. Besides,” you smile wryly, “now I have someone to talk shit about this coffee and sandwich with.”

He chuckles, light and throaty, a sound that you realize is tickling something in your brain. “Guess we’re in this shit together now.”

You nod, feeling something warm settle in your chest. The wall between you is thinner now, not entirely gone but close enough to see past.

“Same time tomorrow?” you ask, half-joking, half-hopeful.

He raises an eyebrow, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “I have two years here. Hope the coffee machine doesn’t beat me to my discharge date.”

Two years. The thought makes you smile. You really don't mind spending that amount of time with him. In fact, it kinda made you a little happy.

As you step into your cozy apartment, the familiar scent of home hits you. Your roommate’s been cooking again, so it also smells like galbi jjim. Yummm.

Your place isn’t much—a small two-bedroom in Yongsan you’ve shared with Chae since Uni—but it’s got character. You both moved in when it was bare and bland, but with a little effort and a lot of creativity, you’ve turned it into something that actually feels like home. The furniture is mostly Scandi-style—clean lines, muted tones, and a lot of beige—but you’ve sprinkled in your own touches everywhere.

There’s that round white table you scored second hand, now always topped with whatever flowers Chae picks up from the market, and the rattan pendant light that casts this soft, cozy glow at night. The tiny kitchen still feels big enough when it’s just the two of you, with mismatched mugs stacked up and a bright orange pan hanging on the wall for no real reason other than it looks cool.

In the living room, a hybrid shelf is stuffed with books, vinyls, and random trinkets from all the places you’ve been. A Chinese lucky cat sculpture from that street market trip. A polaroid of you two drunk at noraebang, one of many others tucked under the glass coffee table. Trendy prints hang on the walls—well, some lean against the walls, because you’ve never gotten around to actually hanging them. It’s perfectly imperfect. It’s not much, but it’s home.

You hang your bag on the rack by the door and head to the kitchen, where Chae is stirring a pot, hips swaying to the music blaring from her phone. Of course, as she holds a silver spoon, she belts out the lyrics from the BTS song with the same title. And you only know this because she has made you watch some edits to this song that left an impression on you.

The thought of revealing this thing you’ve been holding out on her has your stomach in knots. But again, there’s an NDA involved, and you don’t want to violate anything. But just the same, you’re desperate to talk to someone about this strange new development in your life. You just hope you don’t regret risking your job by telling her.

“Hey, Chae!” you call out, and she turns, beaming at you. “How was work?”

“Busy as usual,” you reply, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “But I have something to tell you.”

Her eyes sparkle with curiosity. “Ooh, do tell!”

You hesitate, but excitement spills out. “I have a new workmate. And you know him.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s one of my exes.”

“No, no.” You take a quick swig of water and twist its cover back in place.

“From Uni?”

You shake your head, water still swirling inside your mouth.

“Is it one of my weird cousins?”

You gulp. “What? No! Also we haven’t talked about why you gave one of them my number. He’s blowing up my Kakao.”

She cackles unapologetically, “Sorry, I need to get them off my back. So, are you going to tell me who this mysterious person is?”

You breathe out a sigh. “Min Yoongi from BTS.”

It’s like a bomb explodes in your roommate’s brain. She drops the spoon, and you wince at the clatter. “What?! No!”

“Yeah…”

“Don’t you even joke right now.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you serious???”

You nod, half-amused by her reaction. “Yeah, he’s assigned to my department for his service.”

“Min Yoongi?” she repeats, eyes wide, almost breathless. “You… I… Do you know how famous he is? He’s like a fuckin’ national treasure! He has a diplomatic passport and everything, keys to the White House… ”

You chuckle at her enthusiasm, but you can’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. “I mean, I guess? But I signed an NDA. I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

She pulls you to her room, and you follow, rolling your eyes. Her space is a shrine to Bangtan, shelves lined with albums, posters, and even plushies. You’ve never given her shit for it, because you also had an EXO phase, but you got rid of most of your stuff through ebay when you needed some extra money.

“Wait, you have to understand him!” she exclaims, rifling through her collection. “You need to learn about his music, his artistry. He’s incredible!”

“Honestly, he has an above average WPM, that’s all I need to know.”

“WPM?” she asks.

“Words per minute. He’s an encoder.”

She gives you a WTF look, then shoves her photocard album in your arms. 

“Open that,” she tells you before she flops on her bed with a wistful look. “What's he like? You have to tell me. I need to live vicariously through you.”

You can’t help but laugh at her excitement, flopping down on the bed next to her. “Well, he’s a quick study, very efficient, and also very reserved.”

“…and very hot?” she asks, winking.

“Chaeee!” you groan, burying your face on one of her plushies, the brown one. “I mean, he’s not… bad-looking.”

“Not bad-looking? Girl?! He is sexy as fuck!” she grabs the plush off of your face and you try to school your face to seriousness, but fail.

“I dunno. It’s just work.”

“Just work?!” she echoes again, eyes sparkling. “You’re working with a literal genius! Do you know how many girls would kill for this opportunity?”

Don’t you know it? Danbi and her crew are still up on your face everyday trying to get any morsel of information you’d be willing to throw their way. You sigh, but smile at her enthusiasm. “Alright, I’ll tell you more. But just remember: NDA.”

When your roommate seems satiated, she leaves you a trail of crumbs that unknowingly leads you to a rabbit hole. Two words, she said mysteriously, before you disappear into your room. “Agust D.”

That night, curiosity gets the better of you. You grab your laptop and fall down said rabbit hole, watching every Agust D music video, concert clip, and interview you can find. With each passing moment, you become more entranced, not just by the music, but by the man behind it. The raw passion in his lyrics, the confidence in his delivery—it really is quite… in Chae’s words: sexy af.

As the weeks progress, you have graduated from robotic nods to actual smiles. The greetings feel more familiar now, almost like you're becoming friends. 

You walk into the office, a small smile creeping onto your face as you see Yoongi already at his desk. He looks up and meets your gaze, returning the smile with a scratchy hello. The atmosphere feels lighter today, a far cry from your first awkward encounter.

“Ready for another exciting day of paperwork?” you tease, taking your seat.

“Dope,” he replies dryly, but there’s a playful glint in his eye.

Moments later, Yoongi’s head pops from the side of his monitor so that he’s in your view. “Uh, I have a bit of a problem with this file,” he says, brows furrowed with a hint of frustration in his tone.

You immediately jump into action, eager to help. “Let me take a look.”

As you move closer to his desk, you can’t help but notice the way his fingers move over the keyboard, veiny and strong. Images of him playing “Seesaw” on the guitar flood your mind. How can you unsee that?

You shake your head, trying to refocus. “Okay, let’s see…” But your brain keeps drifting, and you find yourself more distracted than ever. His mouth, and his deep voice, as he mumbles his troubles with the document, keeps pulling your attention. You try to push the thoughts away, frustration mounting.

“Is this the line you were talking about?” you ask, forcing yourself to concentrate on the screen.

“Yeah, that’s the one. I just can’t seem to make sense of it,” he replies, glancing at you.

“Let me just…” You lean closer, your heart racing as his shoulder brushes against yours. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

How can you focus on work when all you can think about is this thing he does with his tongue. It feels impossible.

Yoongi watches you, an amused smile playing on his lips. “You look like you’re trying to solve a complex equation.”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my brain is broken.”

Yoongi glances at you with a smirk. “If your brain is broken, then mine’s completely fried. I tried to make toast this morning and almost burnt my apartment down.”

You laugh. “Maybe you should stick to Uber eats.”

“Agreed. It’s safer for everyone involved,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement, before it turns into something slightly more serious. “Not that there’s anyone else, umm, involved. I, uh, live alone, so…”

His comment makes you smile, and you can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at the way he stuttered the last bit out. You don’t know what to make of it, so you just left it at that. 

About to clock out, Yoongi stands from his desk, bag over his shoulder.

“You know, despite my toast incident, I’m actually a pretty great cook. That toast was a fluke,” he declares, his tone half-serious, like it has been bothering him for quite some time.

The way he looks worried that you may think he is terrible in the kitchen, is not lost on you. You raise an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

He shifts the bag on his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at you. “You don’t believe me.”

“Give me a taste then,” you say, biting your lip. You made it sound really suggestive, but you can’t take it back now. Not when he seems to get it, and he seems kind of into it.

He leans with a playful glint in his eyes, “Alright. I’ll bring kimchi jeon, but you also have to give me a taste.” he pauses, pushing his tongue on the inside of his cheek, before continuing. “Of your…”

“Pasta.” You say, cheeks warm, but voice steady. “Friday?”

He smirks, then he’s out the door.

You bury your face on your palms, smiling like a fool as your heart beats loudly in your chest. What the actual hell is happening?

It’s Friday afternoon, and the office is quieter than usual—most of the staff are already winding down, eager for the weekend. You glance at the clock, knowing it’s almost time for the little food showdown you’ve been looking forward to all week.

You and Yoongi walk together to the break room, both armed with your dishes. His kimchi jeon and your pasta. 

You warm your containers in the microwave before you settle down on a corner spot.

“I hope you’re ready to lose,” you tease, sliding the container of Carbonara across the table. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly calm smirk.

“You seem confident,” he replies, popping open the lid of his dish. The scent of kimchi fills the room, and you have to admit—it smells incredible.

“Smells good,” you say, trying not to let your surprise show.

“Of course it does. I told you I could cook.” He clips a piece of the jeon with his chopsticks and holds it out to you. “Try it.”

You lean forward, the chopsticks brushing against your lips as you take a bite. The flavors hit you immediately—spicy, savory, just the way you like it. You chew slowly, pretending to think it over even though you’re already sold.

“Not bad,” you admit, leaning back with a grin. “But it’s gonna take more than that to beat my pasta.”

Yoongi scoffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes as he picks up a fork and twirls it into your pasta. He takes a bite, and you watch him carefully, waiting for his reaction.

He chews, then pauses, glancing up at you through his lashes. “Alright… I have to admit,” he says, his tone casual but the look in his eyes a little too serious, “this is really good.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “That’s it? Just ‘really good?’”

He leans forward on his elbows, his gaze steady on yours. “Fine. It’s amazing,” he says, his voice softening just a bit, though there’s a teasing smile on his lips. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s already there,” you quip, biting back a smile. 

Yoongi laughs, a sound that’s more relaxed than usual, and you catch the way his eyes linger on you just a little longer than necessary. “You know what? I’ll give you this one,” he concedes, sitting back with a defeated sigh, though the smile never leaves his face. “You win.”

You hoot, then immediately cover your mouth with your hands, remembering you are in your place of business.

He grins as he takes another bite of your Carbonara, forking pieces of bacon straight to his mouth. There’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something softer, like he’s seeing you in a way he hasn’t before. You are thrown for a loop. Maybe it’s the way he keeps sneaking glances at you between bites, or the quiet hum of satisfaction when he takes another forkful of your dish. Whatever it is, you want it and you like it.

You push your chair back, stretching your arms above your head as the day finally comes to a close. It’s been a long one, but productive—and surprisingly enjoyable. After sharing lunch with Yoongi earlier, things felt lighter, less awkward. Still, when you glance at the window, seeing the sheets of rain coming down hard, your shoulders sag slightly. It’s pouring, and you didn’t bring an umbrella.

As you slip on your parka after snapping the detachable hoodie on, Yoongi catches your eye, “You’re not planning to walk in this, are you?”

“I can take the subway,” you say quickly.

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head as he shows you his keys. “Just let me give you a ride, it’s not a problem.”

You hesitate, but eventually, you sigh. “Okay, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you dash out into the rain, laughing softly as you both get soaked within seconds. By the time you’re in his car, your hair sticks to your forehead, and the chill of your wet clothes clings to your skin.

But you’re glad that you’re finally inside. He blasts the heater and the warmth is immediate, fogging the windows as the downpour intensifies. He fiddles with the stereo as you settle in, and Epik High’s "Born Hater" comes through his car speakers.

“Born hater!” You announce, and you catch yourself, embarrassed at the way you had to say the title of the song so emphatically.

“Cute,” Yoongi mumbles as he looks at you like he is actually endeared and you think you would catch fire despite being soaked.

“Ok hater, what’s one thing you hate?” He asks as he puts the gear on reverse.

The question is sudden, casual, and it throws you off for a moment. “What?” You laugh, furrowing your brow. “Like, what do you mean?”

He shrugs, his grip loose on the steering wheel. “Just one thing you hate. Something small. What’s something that drives you crazy?”

His arm moves behind your seat, while one hand takes the wheel and maneuvers the car seamlessly back out of the parking spot—and you don’t quite understand why you think that lone action is so sexy. It’s a miracle you’re still able to think and respond to his simple question. “Okay… I hate it when people chew with their mouth open.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, I’m guilty of that.”

“What about you?” you ask, feeling more at ease. “What’s something you hate?”

Without missing a beat, he grins. “Mushrooms. I can’t stand them.”

“Mushrooms?” You snicker. “What, like all of them?”

“All of them,” he says firmly. “They taste like dirt.”

“Wrong.” You shake your head, laughing. “They do not. You’re just picky.”

He turns to you, raising an eyebrow playfully. “Nope, I’m right. Name another thing.”

“Pickles,” you say.

“Get out of the car,” he deadpans and you both laugh.

“Not even on pizza? I actually can’t eat pizza without it.”

“Yeah, it’s still a no for me,” you say, rubbing your palms on your pants.

“Are you still cold?” He asks.

“A little,” you say, your damp clothes still causing a bit of a chill.

At the next stop light he reaches for something in the back seat and places a folded scarf of some sort on your lap. Grateful, you mutter a thanks as BIGBANG’s “Haru Haru” comes next.

You sigh, smelling his faint cologne on the garment, and melt in your seat as you pull the fabric over your shoulders, “I love this song…”

“Me too,” he says. “I listened to this song a lot when I was in high school.”

“Yeah, me too,” you share a smile before his eyes go back on the road as the green light comes. “What were you like in school?” you ask.

He raises an eyebrow, considering your question for a second. And his response was blunt, as he tends to be.  “Was a loser. Kept to myself. Worked on music when I could. School wasn’t really my thing.”

“Figures,” you tease.

He doesn’t glance at you, but there was an amused grin playing on his lips. “What about you? You look like a popular kid.”

“Oh, I was definitely a loser, too. Overachieving student who tried way too hard to please everyone,” you say with a self-deprecating laugh, looking at the pouring rain outside. “I always thought if I did everything right, I’d end up happy, but…”

“… but now?” Yoongi asks, tone softer than you’ve ever heard him before.

You hesitate, unsure why this feels like a deeper question than it should. But you wanted to give him some honesty. A tiny piece of you to hold on to if he wants. “Now… I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out, I guess.”

“You will,” he promises, glancing at you in the corner of his eyes and you meet his gaze with a shy smile.

“Thanks.”

Silence falls between you. The music fills the space as the rain lets up, and the streets blur outside the window. It feels like a moment—one you don’t want to think too hard about, because thinking too hard about anything with him feels dangerous.

He pulls up outside your apartment, the car coming to a smooth stop. You don’t move right away, letting the last bit of the song play out as you sit in the warmth of the car.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, finally unbuckling your seatbelt, but your voice feels quieter than usual.

“No problem.” His eyes meet yours for just a second, and it lingers—like there’s something else he wants to say, but doesn’t.

You step out into the cool night air, still feeling his gaze on you as you make your way to the door. When you glance back, Yoongi is still parked there, watching you, and just to lighten the mood you call out, "Bye, loser!" He shakes his head with a tiny grin, "Later, loser!" before he finally pulls away.

Your heart’s racing the whole way up the stairs, each step making it louder, faster, like it’s echoing off the walls. You enter your apartment and press a hand to your chest, trying to calm yourself down, but it’s useless—he’s been stuck in your head since you stepped out of the car. Hell, he's been there for days. You wonder if he could feel the headrush too, all the way from Hannam, where he went completely out of his way just to drop you off. 

What you don’t know is Yoongi, back in his apartment, though a little later, is doing the same—sitting there, trying to calm his pulse, still thinking about the long drive, and why he didn’t mind the distance. And as he lay awake in his large bed, smiling like a lunatic, replaying the moments of the day, he knew there really was only one reason:

He likes you.

A/N: What do you think??? I'm so excited for this series!!! Again, just leave a comment if you want to be tagged on the next chapters! Thank you so much for reading! ~k

Edit: Answer this story-related Poll

Chapter Two >

[aomine-ryo]

A lil scenario for Aomine’s birthday because he is, in fact, the best boy. It’s nothing too intricate, I just like to think that Aomine is super nervous around his crushes even though he’s a narcissistic bitch on court (love him tho)

Scenario: Aomine’s crush confesses to him on his birthday

gender neutral reader

Birthdays were just another day for Aomine, and he’s perfectly fine keeping it that way. His complaints begin when everyone around him makes it a bigger deal than it is. And the biggest culprit of this was Momoi.

As much as Aomine loved his friendship with Momoi, it’s days like this where he wished she would just tone it down a bit. He knew that whatever she did was out of love for him, but the way she showed it was way too flamboyant for Aomine.

This year round though, she seemed to be a little too quiet about her plans for the day. She still was the first one to wish him and give him a gift, but she hadn’t mentioned anything else. Either she finally respected his wishes to keep things low-key, or there was a surprise party looming around the corner. And Aomine had an awful feeling it was the latter.

“Dai-chan, you don’t have any plans later today, do you?” Momoi questioned as the two of them walked to school together that morning.

“I do,” Aomine murmured, letting out a big yawn as he rubbed his eyes to wake himself up .

“Huh? What plans?” Momoi questioned. Even though he was half asleep, he could hear the panic in her tone. She was so obvious.

“I have a date with my bed,” Aomine said simply, daydreaming about being wrapped under his warm blanket again.

Momoi clicked her tongue in annoyance. “It’s your birthday. You’re not just gonna spend it in your room.”

“There’s nothing stopping me,” Aomine replied.

“I’m stopping you,” Momoi snapped. “Let’s have a dinner at mine.”

“What? Just you and me?” Aomine questioned absentmindedly, dark blue eyes catching a glimpse of his classmate walking through the school gates.

As soon as Momoi noticed you, she knew she’d completely lost Aomine’s attention. But she carried on anyway, “I thought of inviting Tetsu,” she paused for a moment as a grin took over her face. “If you want, I can invite Y/N as well.”

Aomine snapped back into reality upon hearing your name. “What? No! That’d be so weird,” he protested, his face heating up.

Momoi sighed, “When will you make a move on them?”

“I don’t like Y/N like that,” he replied defensively, avoiding eye contact with Momoi as he did so.

“You’re not fooling anyone, but sure,” she said as the two of them approached their classrooms. “Anyways, you, me and Tetsu tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Aomine rolled his eyes before entering his classroom and plopping down in the seat behind you.

“Daiki! Happy birthday!” You said, turning around to face him with a wide smile.

Aomine was suddenly more awake than ever. “Oh thanks,” he said curtly, “how come you’re not passed out on the desk like every other day?”

“Had to stay awake to be the first in the class to wish you,” you shrugged, “Plus you would’ve woken me up anyways because you’re an asshole like that.”

Aomine chuckled at the sentiment, “How sweet of you to stay up for me,” his tone was mocking; it made you want to punch him.

“You’re so annoying,” you rolled your eyes.

The rest of his school day was fairly normal— napping in class, finding any opportunity to annoy you, drooling over you when you weren’t looking— the usual. In a way, he was glad his birthday was on a Friday; being in school meant that he got to spend his day with you, though he wasn’t exactly pleased to be waking up at 7 a.m. for it.

“Dai-chan! Hurry up! I’ve got to prepare for the dinner!” Momoi called out as she stood at the door of your classroom at the end of the day, interrupting a nonsensical back and forth between you and Aomine.

The navy haired boy sighed, “Satsuki, that’s a problem you created for yourself.”

“You say that, but when the food takes too long to cook it’s non-stop complaining from your end,” Momoi retorted, earning a small laugh from you.

“Whatever. See you Monday, loser,” Aomine said to you, his hand reaching over to your head and messing with your hair.

“Stop that!” you whined, trying to swat his arm away and regaining your composure once you did. “Have a good birthday, stupid,” you said, packing up your stuff once he headed out.

“You guys are so cute,” Momoi beamed once it was just her and Aomine in the hallways.

“Can we please not have this conversation again? Just for today?” Aomine groaned, already frustrated with himself for the lack of flirting he’s been able to do with you. He didn’t know what it was. It was usually easy for him to flirt with girls he was interested in, but with you he was always nervous; afraid he’d mess it up with one wrong move.

Once Aomine had gotten home, he was absolutely exhausted. He laid down in his bed and let out a heavy sigh. He didn’t know if he had it in him to go for dinner with Momoi and Kuroko— let alone whatever Momoi was covering up. He just wanted to nap and maybe just scroll through his socials— maybe he’ll find the perfect meme to send to you so that he has an excuse to talk to you again. Nevertheless, he did end up drifting off into the nap he’d been waiting for since he had woken up that morning.

Aomine was stirred awake by the sound of his phone’s ringtone. He squinted at the bright screen, seeing Momoi’s name and quickly remembering that it was still his birthday. He brought the phone up to his ear, “Hello,” he said groggily, eyes closing once again.

“Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for the past half hour!” Momoi scolded into the phone.

“I was asleep,” Aomine answered simply.

Momoi sighed in disappointment, “Get to mine quick. Tetsu and I are hungry.”

“Mhm,” Aomine hummed before ending the phone call. It took him a moment, but he finally gathered the strength to drag himself out of bed and into the shower, cussing out his birthday each step of the way.

Aomine made it out of the house fairly quickly, but there wasn’t a single thought going through his head when he walked up the driveway of Momoi’s house. He didn’t bother ringing the doorbell— he never did. He took his shoes off and headed towards the living room, “Oi Satsuki—”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY AOMINE!”

Aomine’s heart leaped out of his chest for a moment at the sudden chorus when he stepped into the room. He had fully forgotten about the possibility of a surprise party. Standing in front of him was a crowd of basically all the people he knew— the Miracles, his teammates, some of his classmates, and most notably— you.

“What on earth…” was all he was really able to say. He was still trying to process the fact that you were here. He definitely did not put enough effort into his outfit for this to be happening.

“Were you surprised?” Momoi asked, pouncing up and down like an excited puppy.

“No, you’re a bad liar. I’m just sleepy,” Aomine answered truthfully, causing everyone to erupt into a fit of joking booing and jeering.

“Okay okay, we’ll get to the cake in a second, but first you have to take your birthday shot,” Kagami grinned, swinging his arm around Aomine’s shoulders and handing him a shot glass filled with vodka.

Aomine downed the shot with no hesitation. He needed all the confidence he could get to try to flirt with you— not that he really had a game plan in mind.

Admittedly, it was rather nice to have everyone all together. It had been a while since he had seen Kuroko so it was nice catching up with him and also bullying Kagami whilst he was at it. Moreover, he couldn’t help but steal glances of you chatting with people and swaying along to the music— he still couldn’t believe that you were actually there.

He did, however, make the stupid mistake of matching his drinks with Kise— who had a much higher tolerance than he did. Aomine soon found himself needing to get away from the music and the crowd, so he stepped out to the front porch, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He took a seat on the steps, blankly staring out into the empty street as he tried to stop his vision from spinning.

He heard the front door behind him open and shut, steps moving towards him. “What’s the birthday boy doing all alone out here?” you said, taking a seat next to him.

Aomine’s lips instinctively broke out into a smile upon hearing your voice, “Trying to stop the world from spinning. And also avoiding Kise because I cannot stomach another shot,” he answered honestly.

“I do not envy you right now,” you chuckled, knowing the feeling all too well.

“You haven’t had anything to drink?” Aomine questioned, trying to meet your eyes but failing miserably.

“Not really, I don’t let myself go all out around people I don’t know too well,” you shrugged.

“You don’t need to worry about that, I’ll take care of you if you get too drunk,” Aomine said, a slight slur in his words.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the gesture, “As sweet as that is, you are in no state to be taking care of yourself— let alone me.”

“I’d sober up if I need to,” Aomine said confidently.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, tone filled with sarcasm. A silence fell between you two as you both looked out into the street. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but it wasn’t exactly comfortable either— for you, at least. Aomine seemed to be in another dimension by the looks of it, but you felt like there was something that needed to be said. “Oh right!” You said shuffling around and breaking the silence suddenly as you reached into your pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here, this is for you.”

“What is it?” Aomine asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he took the plain white envelope that said ‘To Daiki’ in your handwriting on it.

“It’s a birthday card,” you said, fidgeting with your hands nervously as you pondered over whether this was the right move.

“Can I open it?” Aomine asked, his respectful manners around you remaining even though he was absolutely hammered.

You hesitated for a moment as you thought over the contents of the card. While it was just a greeting card, you also put down how you felt about him— more specifically, how you had a crush on him. You weren’t sure how he’d react and it was eating you alive. “Um, okay. But don’t read it aloud. And don’t look at me when you read it,” you said, burying your face in your palms as he opened the envelope.

You saw his smile widen upon seeing the card in the first place— it had a cute little cartoon dog with a birthday hat and balloon on the front. Aomine thought that it was such a cute design, it almost reminded him of Nigou. He opened the card up eagerly, wondering what had you so shy. His eyes scanned over the words you had written down, his whole body seizing when he got to the words ‘I like you.’ He read it over and over again in disbelief, sure that it was his drunken mind making him see words that weren’t there. He even ran his finger over the words to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Damn those birthday wishes work quick.

He slowly looked over at you, meeting your eyes through the gaps between your fingers. “Are you serious?” he asked softly.

“It would be really cruel for me to lie about something like that,” you said, trying to use humour to cope with the nervousness.

Aomine leaned over and wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you into a hug. It definitely caught you off guard because it was now your turn to freeze.

“I feel the same way,” he mumbled into your shoulder, your tension beginning to ease with his words. He didn’t exactly intend for the hug, it was something his body did before he could even process that it was happening. He wanted to kiss you, but he was afraid that he wouldn’t remember it the next day— a stupid thought, but what else could you expect from him?

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I genuinely thought I was gonna vomit out of nervousness the whole way here,” you said, finding comfort in the sweet scent of Aomine’s cologne and the sound of his light chuckle.

Aomine finally broke away from the hug, cupping your face in his hands as his dark blue eyes met yours. “You’ve officially made this the best birthday I’ve had in a while,” he grinned, his lips were so close that you could feel his breath on your skin.

“You’re welcome, stupid,” you replied in what was barely a whisper, your eyes darting between his eyes and lips before he finally closed the gap. His lips were soft against yours. Even though he’d been waiting for this moment for ages, he wanted to savour it. There was no need for him to go all in. He just wanted to melt into your touch and bask in your gentleness. The world finally stopped spinning; as your fingers ran through his hair, he did his best to remember this moment. Your soft touch, your fresh scent, the sound of your gentle breaths— he wanted to remember every single bit of you that made his day.

[enoe-of-noen]

Apple’s Birthday

Forgot to do art for his bday soo, happy late birthday my Luci pookie <3

Mc walked back from the store happily, practically skipping their way home. The demons around them looked at them curiously, giving weird looks. Why was the human so jolly today?

Mc took out their keys and opened the doors to HOL, bolting to Lucifer’s room. Almost tripping on the stairs, they caught some of the brothers’ attention. “Mc? What’s got ya in such a hurry?” Mammon appeared. “Sup Mams, trying to get something to Luci.”

“Eh? Mc, Mc!~ Is that little gift for our dear Lucifer?~” Asmodeus sprung up behind them, draping his arms over Mc’s shoulders. “Oh yeah, it’s his birthday today.” Mammon murmured.

“Should we get him a cake?” Beelzebub walked to the trio, chips in hands. “Ah! Good idea!” Mammon grinned.

“At least make it your money this time, Mammon, lol,” Leviathan leaned against Beelzebub, playing on his switch. “I do not need to witness last year’s fiasco again,” Mc chuckled.

“Oh come on, Mc! Cut me some slack, I was low on grimm!”

“You always are,” Belphegor yawned. “Where’s Satan?” Mc raised a brow. “Outside, he found a litter of cats.” Belphegor mumbled. Leviathan looked up from his game and noticed the box in Mc’s hands. “What’s that?”

“Luci’s gift, something I bought and something I made. I’m really proud of it,” Mc grinned. “Aww, that’s so cute, Mc!” Asmodeus kissed their cheek. “Thanks, Asmo.”

“Lucifer’s really busy right now, though,” Beelzebub said through chews. “Ugh, on his birthday?” Leviathan furrowed his brows. “Huh, I thought at least Diavolo would give him a day off.” Mammon scratched his chin.

“I’ll ask him about it,” Mc pat Asmodeus off of them and continued walking to Lucifer’s room.

Arriving at the doors, Mc knocked lightly. “Who is it?” A voice came from behind. “It’s Mc, Lucifer.” Mc heard muffled steps and the doors unlock, a tired Lucifer smiling at them. They noticed the eye bags and the unkept hair instantly. They slightly frowned.

“Afternoon, Mc. Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, I did. Can I come inside, please? I have something to show you.” They peered inside and saw the big piles of paper and visibly grimaced. Lucifer chuckled at their expression.

“I’ll make it quick if you’re too busy…” they pouted. “I’m never too busy for you, Mc. Come in.” He held the door open for them like a gentleman, slowly closing it behind them. Mc glared at the papers.

“Mc, you don’t need to worry. Diavolo simply forgot a lot of things that were due by the end of the week and I figured I could take the responsibility.”

“But on your birthday?”

“Not to worry, this was of my own choice.”

“I figured, Diavolo probably tried to give you the day, didn’t he?” Mc sighed. Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck nervously, albeit ashamed. “I know you hold yourself as the responsible one, as Diavolo’s most trusted friend and all but…” Mc kept staring at the papers. Lucifer followed their gaze and sighed himself, raking a hand through his hair.

“Forgive me, Mc. I never meant to make you worry. However-”

“Lucifer.” Mc sternly stared, interrupting his train of thought. His breath hitched. He felt himself crumble in front of them, relaxing his shoulders. The way they softly spoke to him, yet their eyes…their eyes. They have beautiful eyes.

Mc blinked and looked down at their box. Lucifer raised a brow. “This is for you.” They held it up to him. It made Lucifer’s heart race. “For…me?” His voice filled with fondness, carefully holding the box. “Can I?”

“Of course.” Mc smiled. Lucifer meticulously yet effortlessly pulled the blue ribbon off and opened to find a card, a hair clip, and a poison apple in its own little box.

“Oh, Mc. These are wonderful.” Lucifer looked in front of him and made a little noise to see no Mc.

“Psst,” Mc’s cheekily chirped. Lucifer looked down and saw Mc sitting on the ground, patting the spot in front of them. “Sit.”

“Mc, it might be easier to sit on the chairs,” Lucifer said as he sat down. “I want to show off the gifts,” Mc pointed at the box. Lucifer took the card out and opened it to see a little paper cutout of himself.

“Oh? What’s this?”

“I made a doodle of you. It’s cute, yeah?”

“You’ve been spending a little too much time with Leviathan, haven’t you?”

“Excuse you, I’ve always been artsy!” Mc feigned frustration, making Lucifer laugh. Lucifer pulled out the hair clip and raised a brow. The hair clip seemed to be handmade, the eldest born’s symbol and apples plastered the surface.

“Seriously?”

“Yes, let me put it on you,” Mc scooched next to him and carefully took the hair clip from Lucifer’s hand. They pulled some of his hair back and placed the hair clip. “Comfy?”

“Yes.” He breathlessly sighed, a red tint covering his cheeks. Mc’s gentle touch made him lean into their warmth. “Oh?” Mc caressed his hair and chuckled. Lucifer let himself rest in Mc’s arms, slowly closing his eyes.

“Thank you, Mc,” he whispered. Mc smiled as they tucked the hair behind Lucifer’s ear and kissed his forehead.

“Any day, my sweet apple.”

Ayy I’m proud of this one

[darcyfangirlsfrequently]

Reaction to episode 1 of season 2 of CME

Spoilers below the cut

The way the episode started with those cops that we don't know and then Emily's "I have" introducing her??? Amazing. Chills.

The way she just waltzed in and slowly and calmly detailed things about the killing that the cops didn't know yet was BEAUTIFUL

Penelope's birthday!!! (Still sad I didn't get to watch this yesterday ON my birthday, but whatever)

Ooh okay I thought that that snippet of Luke and Penelope was from BEFORE the start of the party but clearly it's after if everyone is already there

JJ and Tara being "mad" and Luke for whatever he just did and him being all cheeky and braggy WARMS MY HEART I MISSED THESE PEOPLE AND I LOVE THEM

"What is wrong with you?" "What is wrong with me? *gestures to Penelope* what about her?" I LOVE THEM

"I might have what I said tattooed to my body" "oh i dare you" "how dare you dare me?" the flirting is STRONG with these two

The banter!! The jokes!! I love this scene so much!!

QUEEF LESSONS??????? WHAT THE F U C K?

Penelope actually calling Luke by his name will never NOT make me smile

Oh no. A soft little moment with Penelope and Dave? I might cry

"This was good. You seem good." "I am. *kisses her cheek*" yep i'm crying

Tara and Penelope being concerned for their dad Rossi

Luke checking on his dad Rossi

Me 🤝 Penelope getting texts from our exes on our birthdays

"Put it away" I like how he's more direct with her now. Calls her out when she's wrong.

PENELOPE SHUT YOUR MOUTH WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT TO HIM

"I said I didn't wanna know, you were right the first time" yes luke stand your ground!

Luke looking SO ANNOYED when she asks him to dissect things with her JEALOUS LUKE MY BELOVED (if this were a romcom movie this would be where Luke just grabs her face and kisses her) (@lklvz i know what we're discussing at a later date)

"Oh god I'm doing it. Why am I doing that?" YES PENELOPE. STOP THAT LINE OF THINKING.

"I am moving on. Eyes on the prize." her saying that TO LUKE is driving me crazy. Yes, Penelope move on. Eyes on the prize. THE PRIZE IS RIGHT NEXT TO YOU.

Their eye contact and semi-wordless communication and everything ahhhhhhhh Garvez is so real

I wanted them to have a cute little moment where they reach for the same thing and their hands touch

Luke, from a different room: Put it away!! I LOVE THE WAY HE KNOWS HER???

Tara and JJ were there the entire time??????? they just let them be alone???? they're trying to jumpstart their ship with forced proximity

"You're HOT" JENNIFER JAREAU?????? The Jara shippers are going feral and the Jemily shippers are unsure about whether to cry or cheer, and my Temily self is weeping

"A hot mess is the term that you are searching for." Tara Lewis I am in love with you.

Tara talking about her gf 🥰 (Emily)

"Definitely not a book" i am GAGGED

Emily texting Tara "12:30. My office." Temily is real.

"we need to talk" emily i think the word you're looking for is make out

Is "we need to talk" temily code for "lets go smoke on the roof???" love that

Tara and Emily teaming up, Tara being the only person to know what's up with Emily, all of this is so good for my heart.

PAWS OFF THEIR CASES, REBECCA

how did rebecca's hair change that much in "two weeks" lol

oh she just handed off the file to Voit. Lovely. Not that I'm surprised.

"good book, I hope" HE WILL NOT LET IT GO

PHIL COULSONNNN

Elias showing off his acting skills. He is good.

"What the hell is Gold Star?" Luke I am hoping you're lying

Temily pitching a case like the wives they are

Rossi THROWING A GLASS AT A WALL

REBECCA. GO. AWAY.

Rebecca Wilson you are one of the worst people i have ever met

Rossi and Emily fighting feels so weird to me

Bertoli's wife being killed to punish him and hurt him through survivor's guilt reminds me of Luke and Phil

aaaand bertoli shot himself. can't say i'm surprised.

LUKE BEING SMART AND KNOWING THINGS AND GETTING ANSWERS LIKE THE BEST BOY HE IS (and Penelope being low-key impressed)

it was LUKE'S idea to get Tyler's help????

Emily asking if Penelope has any objections and then Penelope LOOKING AT LUKE

why do i have a weird get feeling i'm gonna like tyler this season. or maybe at least just hate him less.

Penelope not that you should be trying to impress tyler, but if you ask Luke if you look good, well, yes is the answer.

"my cats are my boyfriend" something tells me Penelope listens to "Karma" by Taylor Swift

Luke's overly fake voice greeting tyler I LOVE HIM

Luke baby i know you hate the mans guts but YOU INVITED HIM IN (this scene is hilarious tho)

*to penelope* "I'm happy to see you again." *to luke* "you, not so much" I'M CACKLING

"What, me? Oh you are missing out." I LOVE HIM THIS IS GONNA BE SO GOOD

Her thanking Luke for sticking up in that conversation. Garvez. Is. So. Real.

Rebecca is so hot and cold with Tara I hate it.

JJ you know all about being forced to confess something while being held against your will, don't you

the way Garvez are being put together in EVERY. SCENE.

Yes Penelope! Yell at him!

EMILY SAYING FUCK

Putting Tyler and Luke side by side in a frame only makes me more sure that they're making them similar on purpose. Almost the same outfit, badge in the same spot, similar hair style and facial features

"Who wants first crack at him? *points at Tyler* and not you." the comedy is back and i am loving it

[that-writing-raccoon]

MEET CHAOTIC PROMPTS

Alright, kids, listen up.

We’re all suckers for a good meet-cute. Don’t even try to lie to me. Like, yeah, they’re cliché, but, if done well, it can be really cute, hence the name.

Meet-uglies on the other hand can be super funny, and they almost always lead to enemies-to-lovers or rivals-to-lovers, even if just for a hot second. They’re great, too.

But here’s the thing:

I want more meet-chaotics. Not meet-cutes, not meet-uglies, meet-chaotics.

What do I mean by this?

Well, you know how crazy life can be sometimes? How wack shit happens, it makes a good story to tell your friends, and it makes you low-key question reality for a second? Yeah. Meet-chaotics are like that. How you met is just so weird and chaotic that it was a bonding experience.

Here are some prompts/concepts so you understand what I’m getting at:

“Normal”/Humor:

 “I’m an uber driver dropping off my last customer, and you and your friends(?) just jumped into my backseat right as they got out and yelled a variety of ‘DRIVE! FUCKING DRIVE!’ and ‘FLOOR IT!’ There are flashing lights behind me, but I panicked and stepped on the gas, and now you’re trying to assure me that it’s not what it looks like, but I’m too busy worrying that I’m a wanted criminal now.” 

Bonus points for found family and/or polyamory!

“I’ve had a really bad day, and it started to rain, so, because I’m dramatic, I blasted my ‘*insert playlist name here*’ and lied down on my sidewalk/lawn/driveway facing the sky, and you just drove by, backed up, and ran out to join me as ‘Chasing Cars’ by Snow Patrol was playing. I have never met you before, but I’m pretty sure we’ve bonded and might be soulmates.” (Yes, I got this idea from a TikTok. What of it?).

“I was walking my dog at the park when he got off his leash, and now I’m running after him through the park calling his name and yelling to ‘GET THAT DOG!’ You’re having a barbecue/family reunion/birthday party, and my dog sprints towards you, knocks someone over, and begins eating your food. You see me sprinting towards you and trying to catch my dog, but he’s faster, so now we’re both chasing my dog, and I may or may not be swearing words that’d make a sailor blush. Eventually, one of us or a random stranger catches him, and we finally stop, and, hey, sorry about that, but, wazow! You’re pretty cute.” 

Bonus points for anyone vaulting over a table or something.

“We’re on our way to class, and I just witnessed you run past me down the stairs holding a bunch of books, trip, roll down two flights, and roll to your feet and keep running like nothing happened. And, like, we didn’t talk, and I don’t think you noticed me, but now I can’t help thinking of you. Like, that was impressive, but are you okay?”

“We’re at a house party, and it’s gotten pretty wild. Music is blasting from the speakers, people are dancing on tables, stuff is breaking, etc. Suddenly, the music shuts off, and someone yells, “POLICE!” and everyone s c a t t e r s. It’s pure chaos. I trip while running outside and curl up in a ball to not get trampled, but then a hand reaches down and pulls me up, it’s you, and we run off together still holding hands. Who are you, again?”

Bonus points if this goes back to the uber driver prompt. 

Bonus bonus points if this couple is coming from the same place as the folks from the first prompt, so it’s same universe, but they’re completely different people having their own meet-chaotics running from the police ‘cause they were at the same party.

Could be any illegal/big crowd scenario. A concert, a protest, etc. 

Sci-Fi:

“We live in a world where superheroes exist. One day, I’m minding my own business in my own apartment when you, *insert superhero name here,* crash through my wall while I’m just lounging on the couch, mug of coffee/preferred drink to my lips, feet up on my coffee table, and laptop open on my lap. We stare at each other. You get up, apologize, and fly off through the hole in the wall. Little do I know, you feel bad about the whole thing and decide to try making it up to me, except every thing you try just descends us more and more into chaos.”

Bonus points if this ends up being enemies to lovers, seeing as the protagonist, Character A, would probably be hella bitter about not having the specific superhero insurance needed to fix their wall. 

Bonus bonus points if Superhero has to save A from x during one of their attempts to fix the situation. 

“It’s the zombie apocalypse. I’ve set up camp in a (mostly) abandoned town, scavenging to survive. One day, there’s an unusual amount of zombies in the road. Panicked, I start to climb something. When I’m about halfway up, I hear a weird noise, and look down just in time to see you and your friend whizzing by on a shopping cart down the incline- you in the basket and your friend riding on the back. You’re screaming/yelling and swinging a bat around. The zombies are too slow and uncoordinated to catch up with you. At the last second, you look up at me and we make eye-contact mid-me making at wtf face. It’s such a stupid strategy that I’m low key in love.”

“It’s an alien invasion. We’re all running and screaming for our lives. Suddenly, there’s a spot light, and you start being pulled up into a ship. You panic and grab something. For some unknown, ungodly reason, I try to help you. It goes as well as it sounds. Cue us both getting beamed up while holding on to each other for dear life.”

“We’re on a spaceship. There are so many people on board that it’s impossible to truly know or recognize anyone. I’m working or reading or what have you, when I so happened to glance up at my porthole/window, just in time to see you, who’d been fixing something on the outside of the ship, floating away and doing some space gymnastics with your lead and etc., and swimming, to get back to the ship. I do what anyone responsible would do and sprint off to the docks to get you back safe inside.”

Bonus if Floating Person is just doing the absolute most ridiculous things to make it back.

I have more, but I feel like this post is long enough. But yeah. Something something meeting someone in the most chaotic, stupid, and unhinged way gets to me. Like, we’ve all have shared moments with a stranger because we both witnessed something or been involved in something dumb or crazy. And usually it’s like, eye-contact or brief, awkward commentary, then at the end of the day you go home and it’s just a funny story that only you guys experienced. Something about it just speaks to me.

[ugh-yoongi]

I haven't seen anybody write out Hobi being a librarian and I think that'd be soo cute! Sweet Hobi all smitten on a regular reader, and of course, they're a regular for a reason, but both are too nervous and self-conscious to act on any of their desires.

oh, this is so soft, i love this so much. thank you for sending it in! i hope you enjoy. <3

we're celebrating jess's birthday! hobi hours are: OPEN.

low key, no pressure

pairing: hoseok x reader (no pronouns used) genre: mutual pining, librarian au; fluff warnings: swearing, hobi being a cute disaster, this is kind of idiots to lovers but since the lovers development is implied i didn't tag it that way but just know it's there ok, taehyung is a shithead, mostly unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1.6k

Hoseok is a little misguided, is the thing.

What counts is that he has good intentions, even if they don’t hold up under closer examination. But he’s sort of a disaster of a human, so he takes Taehyung’s ribbing on the chin and forges ahead with his plan.

All because he doesn’t know how to talk to you.

He knows your favorite book because you check it out at least once a month. He knows your favorite flower because there’s a bouquet of them tattooed so artfully on your arm they look painted on. He knows your name and your address and your phone number because it’s in the system, and he has enough sense not to do anything with them.

“You could just—and I’m just spitballing here—say hello.”

Hoseok frowns. “I say hello every time…?”

Taehyung is a year younger, so it feels weird to disappoint him. Settles in his stomach all funny, like he’s doing something wrong but can’t figure out what it is. “That’s not—” Taehyung sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Are you always like this? Like, this is your baseline?”

“I’m not following.”

“Clearly,” Taehyung mutters. He looks good today, Hoseok thinks. Looks like he’d woken up and put actual effort into his appearance. Looks like the summer has favorites. Doesn’t at all look like he’s on the verge of a mental break, which is more than Hoseok can say about himself. “Hyung, I’m going to ask this point-blank—”

“Maybe don’t? I’m fragile.”

“—Do you know how to flirt?”

Hoseok scoffs, all instinct. Of course he knows how to flirt. He’d flirted his way through undergrad and then grad school with great success. He flirts with the grumpy IT guy the city sends over, just because it’s funny to watch his cheeks turn a shade of red he’d previously thought was impossible. Hell, he flirts with stupidity every single day, so who is Kim Taehyung to ask him such a thing?

“Don’t ask silly questions, Taehyungie.”

“So you’re saying you do?”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Okay,” Taehyung shrugs, and Hoseok sighs in relief, glad that particular interrogation is over. “Flirt with me, then.”

And then he’s choking on his tea, expensive cashmere sweater now soiled with half a cup of honey vanilla chamomile. “You asshole,” he wheezes, barely able to get the words out before his throat constricts again, warning him of another impending coughing fit. “My sister bought me this sweater.”

“Noona has great taste,” comes Taehyung’s easy reply, paying no mind to Hoseok at all, “which is to be expected, of course. Now, please flirt with me once you’ve recovered.”

“Why?” Hoseok snaps, because the way he’s blotting at his sweater with a soggy napkin is humiliating. He doesn’t even have a change of clothes anymore; had taken his gym bag out of his car a few weeks ago when he’d gotten the flu.

Taehyung sighs again—put-upon, like he’s dealing with an obtuse child. “Because I’m trying to facilitate true love, and I can’t send you into battle unprepared.”

Hoseok just glares. He’s going to have to spend his lunch break running back to his apartment to change.

Right, the plan.

It’s all dependent on you sticking to your routine, which goes like this: every Sunday afternoon, without fail, you swing by the library and make pleasant small talk with Taehyung as you return your books. Taehyung, without fail, asks what you thought of them and recommends new ones accordingly. You always smile and say thank you, and your voice always sounds like church bells.

(“That’s because you want to mar—” “I will fire you if you finish that thought.”)

Hoseok is always conveniently absent during these exchanges, pretending to do paperwork in his office. This is why Taehyung calls him a coward, and that’s probably true, it’s just… Hoseok has talked to you enough times to develop a big fat crush, and that’s not acceptable. He doesn’t even know you; doesn’t want to romanticize you and put you on a pedestal.

Hence the plan.

If he can’t talk to you with words, he’ll do it with books.

It’s genius, regardless of what Taehyung thinks.

But Taehyung is integral to the plan, so Hoseok has to get him on board. “Look, I already put it together, I just need you to… suggest it.”

“You mean be manipulative.”

“It’s not manipulative,” Hoseok argues, sending a glare Taehyung’s way. “It’s no different from you suggesting books any other time.”

“I just don’t understand why you can’t just say hi, I really dig your taste in literature, would you like to grab a coffee sometime? It’s not that hard, hyung, you really don’t need to do all of…” He points at the stack of books Hoseok has assembled. “...This.”

There’s about three seconds before Hoseok explodes, and Taehyung must realize it because he’s throwing his hands up and going fine, fine and helping sort the books.

As annoying as Taehyung can be, he really is a great salesman.

Powerful, too, because Hoseok wouldn’t have lasted a second in your presence. Probably would’ve melted under the warmth of your smile; would’ve withered as soon as you strolled in with your tattoo visible; would’ve fallen to his knees the second you said hello.

Taehyung has done none of those things, which Hoseok knows because he’s standing on a chair, watching from the window in his office. He knows Taehyung can see his face peeking through the blinds, keeps rolling his eyes whenever the two of them make eye contact, but he schools his expression and keeps Hoseok’s secret safe.

“I actually have some special recommendations for you today,” he hears Taehyung say. Watches as he hands over the bundle of paperbacks. “Our lovely head librarian thought you might be interested in these. He picked them out just for you.”

You look taken aback. It sends Hoseok into a panic, wondering if he’d gone too far. Maybe he should’ve listened to Taehyung, after all, but surely a stack of books is less forward and weird than a coffee date? You can just not read the books and return them if they aren’t your thing, but turning someone down face-to-face is much harder.

No, no—Hoseok did the right thing. He has to have faith in the plan.

“Wow,” you reply, a beautiful smile lighting up your face. “These look great. Please tell him I said thank you.”

Taehyung’s smile is not beautiful. It’s greasy and smarmy. “Oh, I most certainly will.”

Taehyungie (11:32am): Can’t make it into work today, hyung Taehyungie (11:32am): I’m super sick Taehyungie (11:32am): Sorry 😉

Hoseok can’t believe what he’s seeing.

Kim Taehyung is a traitor. A treasonist. A miscreant. Another word for a disloyal person who is not only willing to abandon his hyung in his time of need, but is gleeful about it.

What could Hoseok possibly have done in a past life to deserve this?

Doesn’t matter, he decides. This is totally fine. Hoseok’s going to prove Taehyung wrong. He’s going to have a proper conversation with you. He’s going to ask what you thought about the books he’d chosen. He’s going to recommend new ones. He’s going to flirt. He might even ask if you want to grab coffee sometime, and he’s going to relay all of this to Taehyung right before he tells him to go to hell.

Just one small hiccup: he has to survive you first.

You’re surprised to see him, and the way your eyes widen makes Hoseok’s heart skip a beat. God, he’s worse off than he thought. Gets worse when you reach the circulation desk and he can smell your perfume: something soft and earthy that reminds him of a spring breeze. Has his knees shaking, on the verge of buckling beneath him, and it’s only through pure spite that he stays upright.

“Good afternoon,” he says with a small wave.

You smile. “Hi, Hoseok. Haven’t seen you up here in a while.”

“Ah, well, you know. Paperwork.”

You nod, but the jerky motions of your head tell Hoseok you probably don’t do much paperwork at your job. “Yeah, of course. Is Taehyung out today?”

“Yep, took a sick day.” He shouldn’t, but he thinks Taehyung deserves it: “Sent me a text this morning and said it was coming out both ends. Seems bad.” You’re grimacing. Oh god, you’re grimacing. “Anyway! Here for your weekly return?”

Like a switch has been flipped, you scramble into action, reaching into your tote bag to retrieve the books. “I—yeah, sorry, let me just…”

“Sure, take your time. Did you like them?”

“Yes,” you answer, gaze slowly rising to meet his own. There are words clearly biting at the back of your teeth and, like Hoseok has done a million times before, you swallow them. Slowly, you hand over all the books but one. “I especially liked this one.”

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. Hoseok had agonized over that one for days, wondering if it was too much, if it’d send the wrong message. Some of the other books were more obvious, but this one was… well. It’s not what was said that’s important, it’s what wasn’t, and Hoseok had concocted that stupid plan because he couldn’t say what he wanted to.

But you’re handing it over with a hesitation that has Hoseok smiling despite himself. “Would you like to hang onto it a little longer?”

“Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” And then, because he’s brave and he doesn’t want to end up like one of Ishiguro’s characters, he takes advantage of a fleeting moment of bravery. “Maybe we could—aish. Would you like to discuss it over coffee sometime? The book, I mean. With me.”

You nod, and your smile is shy. “I would love to.”

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

"You can’t be a casual Cali/Montecito royal." Hi, Plant, could you explain a bit more what you mean by this. Because my view is if they had been gracious towards the RF on Oprah, (i.e. we're beloved family members, but taking some time out of the spotlight. Then then come back and slowly work on projects in the US.) They could then come back for Trooping etc. Because the Princess Madeline managed to live in the US and keep her Royal image intact. (As far as I'm aware.)

I think that was the expectation in 2020. They would keep their UK charities and Frogmore and remain “beloved family members” attending family events but essentially living their own lives. Their LA lives would presumably retain a royalesque quality because they would go from their last appearances in the UK (which were pretty glam, thanks to Sarah Latham) to the Invictus Games then Trooping, polo season, and Balmoral. They were also going to do their own royalesque events, including a big fundraising tour for Sentebale and a charity concert for Invictus. That was the 2020 plan, I believe.

That’s similar to what Madeline did, although she was more low-key about it. It’s basically a royal life in the US. If the Harkles has stuck to well-known royal behaviors like the Christmas cards and birthday pictures, they could have successfully created an American Royal family. I think that’s what everyone expected them to do.

But Covid messed that up. They kept it going for a while bc everyone was doing Zoom charity calls and that kept the illusion of equivalency going, but the illusion finally shattered with the Oprah interview and then Philip’s funeral. It didn’t help that they were busy embracing James Corden and Ellen Degeneres and behaving like Hollywood clowns. Plus the British charities were sidelined and royalesque behaviors like Christmas cards and birthday pics were not consistently deployed. Their royal brand was steadily eroding.

At that point, they should have focused on their Hollywood projects and building their California brands, but they didn’t. They focused on lawsuits and family drama. They also did a bunch of paid awards, which weren’t really meaningful. The few projects they showcased felt very unprofessional. They didn’t have a real office, just those guesthouse desks. They were renting random locations and doing “coastal grandmother” lawn interviews with Gloria Steinem. Meghan was having fake tea parties with celebrities and Harry was juggling and the whole thing felt very bland and amateurish. They had a random NY tour for no reason (to read her book or something?) and jumped on activist bandwagons haphazardly (BLM, family leave, Iran, Ukraine, Uvalde, whatever…). It was weird.

That’s what I mean by “Casual California Royal.” Things like sending an olive cake to WCF and planting forget-me-nots at a random school. It all felt very whimsical and unprofessional. Worst of all, it did not feel purposeful or passionate.

They the documentary and the book came out and they royal brand just imploded. There’s nothing left now. All they can do is try to build up their celebrity image.

[kokusfluffyhair]

Douma as Your Boyfriend (18+!)

(art credit: @HakogardenMiko) Request for @rosethornpaw -- I'm sorry it took so long 😔

+ he loves to dance (especially in an outfit like the one in the picture)

+ he will spoil you with gifts, vacations, massages, bubble baths, dinners, whatever he can possibly think of

+ he finds meaning out of spoiling you

+ if you're looking for a skincare partner, he's your guy

+ he will do sheet masks and any kind of self care with you. the problem is that he's very picky about the products he uses, so if the two of you go shopping for new products, expect it to take a looooong time

+ your bathroom is overrun with his hair care products

+ seriously, you can make a functioning small store with the amount of hair products he has alone

+ he wears makeup and wants you to compliment it

+ he likes to smell good and uses body wash and perfumes to make him smell like vanilla and lotus flowers

+ he cries during movies. most of the times it is fake, but it is real when he cries during fights between romantic couples

+ you will have the softest and most luxurious bed living with him. the man's got to get his beauty sleep and he needs soft, plush blankets, silk pillowcases, and stuffed animals to do so

+ his favourite stuffed animal is a light brown rabbit that he named Snuggles

+ when you aren't together, he will always be sending you messages and pictures

+ your phone is basically occupied by Douma

+ he has so many pictures of you on his phone, it looks like he's your stalker

+ he kind of does low-key stalk you. he knows your schedule and will be waiting for you when you're done with school or work

+ he always brings boba tea for you though

+ you two would do well if you started some couple's day in the life type of videos on YouTube or TikTok

+ he loves sweets. I mean loooooveess sweets, especially soft and creamy cakes with strawberry

+ you can be talking to him while he's eating those kinds of cakes and he's not paying attention, until suddenly he looks over at you with that weird creeper face and asks "Hm?" with cream at the corners of his mouth

(yeah, this is the creeper face I was talking about)

+ he likes foot massages, so if you're willing to give him that, he will melt in front of you and be moaning as you do the job

+ he's a power bottom, prefers not to switch

+ if you wear a strap-on and give it to him in the ass, he will be forever thankful

+ just stimulate tf out of his prostate please

+ and squeeze his nipples. he will squeal

+ do not ever tell him that he needs an eyebrow trim or styling

+ he's really sensitive to the sun, so don't tease him about that either (even if he is not a demon, or if demons get some medicine that makes them sun-resistant, Douma has a form of albinism so he is especially sun sensitive)

+ he loves giving hugs

+ he has a list of strange fetishes but most of them include feet and cream

+ he will probably forget your anniversary and birthday. he doesn't mean to, but these things just don't click in his mind

+ he also forgets his own birthday

+ when you throw him a party for his birthday, he gets really excited because he thinks he's just getting a random party. but then you tell him that it's his birthday and he goes "Oh?" and it's like he's learnt something new

+ he'd prefer a polyamorous relationship. but if you're against it, he will stay loyal to you

+ he doesn't want kids. his biggest fear is your relationship degenerating like his parents' did. he thinks having kids will be a catalyst to this happening

+ "Hey, y/n ... I didn't think I could feel love, you know? I tried so hard to feel love and aaahhh I never could. But you know what? I think I love you. You make my chest warm. That's love, isn't it?"

+ you help him find peace with himself

[wanderingblindly]

low-key this is such an odd thing to ask about but i’ve never posted any kind of fic before because i was always scared of it being found somehow, like an employer or people i know. are you ever worried that people will find your online presence?, also like can someone/an employer find that?

not a weird thing at all! and, frankly, I was the same way for a long time; I posted fic (since that felt fairly anonymous), but I didn't engage with fandom in more personal ways until recently.

When it comes to internet safety, there are obviously lots of things you can do to keep your anonymity. Using a fake name, electing to not give out your location, specific age, birthday, field of work, etc. are all good ideas. I also set up my ao3 with a throwaway email address that's associated with a different fake name (shoutout to 2014 liquid).

I'm aware that I don't do all of those things, but I think I've grown more comfortable as I've curated my own space online. But it's also important to note that there isn't one right way to have an online presence! Do what makes you comfortable!

RE: friends and employers finding out

As long as you're not tying identifiable information to your accounts (images shared to both tumblr and your personal instagram, for example), it would take some work for someone to ID you from your account. Same goes for email addresses, linking phone numbers, etc etc. There's always some risk, as nothing is ever truly anonymous, but the amount of work it would take for a loved one or employer to find your 'anonymous' tumblr/ao3 would be.... excessive? I'd imagine?

Like is it technically possible to maybe figure out who I am from my blog? Yes. But you'd have to read a LOT of my blog and already have a strong idea beforehand. And I'm just not sure anyone is willing to do that unless they also have an RPF habit and want to talk to me about that lol

Edit: Also! living life -- in any capacity! -- is not without risk! New hobbies bring the risk of failure, chasing your interests bears the risk of judgement. At some point, we all have to ask ourselves what balance of risk-mitigation and self-indulgence we feel happy with.

[void-botanist]

🖊 🖊 🖊 🖊 !!!!!!!!!

Hello Ren!!! You get several paragraphs about Fay and Lou's terrible divorce :D

They're like the inverse of Sorian and Avis, because it was less clear-cut what exactly made everything fall apart. There were first the general resentments of Fay being mostly a stay-at-home mom while Lou sunk way too much of his time in the bakery - simultaneously a moneymaker, a status symbol, and the target of Fay's ire. But this was a simmer of a conflict. Things didn't start escalating until Isabel came out as trans when she was 11. Neither Fay nor Lou had any trouble with this, at least until Lou made it all about him. He would never ask Isabel to be someone she wasn't, no, but now he was left high and dry with no son to inherit his bakery, to carry on the patrilineal tradition he'd singlehandedly revived. All that time he spent there was a waste without an heir, you know?

Fay took this as proof that he did care about the bakery more than his family, and they started to fight more and more. In his deepening unhappiness Lou accidentally found a new love interest (along the lines of "she happened to help me with bakery taxes" or something) and realized that oh, maybe he really didn't need to be in this miserable marriage anymore. I think it's actually more interesting if they were "good" and never banged prior to the divorce, because that was immaterial as soon as Lou told Fay that he'd found a new partner so maybe it was time they broke up. This was the moment when Fay's poorly attached hinges flew off and she began throwing everything of his in a pile at the bottom of the stairs, followed by screaming at him to leave so loudly that the neighbors could hear.

After that the divorce should have been quick but they argued about the bakery revenues and the house and custody of Rodney and Isabel (who were 10 and 13 when the whole debacle started and pretty clearly sided with Fay, because at least she'd always been there) and whether they could get a fault divorce (honestly I'm not sure but Fay wanted one) and finally, a year and a half later, the divorce was finalized. Lou let Fay offload the house onto him and she, Isabel, and Rodney left for Antarac. He got remarried to his new partner, Annette, who he's still married to, and they later adopted a kid, Hatt, who's the middle sibling age-wise between them, Rodney, and Isabel. I have yet to work out a lot of Hatt's background but between them and Annette, Lou has learned quite a lot about how not to be transphobic and also how not to be weird by adding a "Be My Heir" letter into the mix of yearly birthday cards to your son (just don't do that). Hatt is all too happy to be the heir to the bakery but had the advantage of being adopted as a teenager and therefore not raised with Expectations like Isabel and Rodney (I suspect they were like Annette's nibling or cousin to begin with). Annette ends up low-key being Isabel's hero because she had a double mastectomy for cancer reasons and therefore also has a flat chest.

I'm indisposed for doodles/picrews atm but I want to make some of them later and get their designs a little more nailed down.

🖊️ send me a pen and get some cool OC facts 🖊️

Nicea taglist: @kahvilahuhut @malloen8c @outpost51 @writernopal @athenswrites

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Ghost is looking down at his smartphone and holds his breath: he almost forgot about your birthday. Not Riots - YOURS, my dear friend. It's a good thing, others from 141 (and ANY other guys and ladies from CoD universe) are gathered at the common room. So Ghost clears his throat and says: "Looks like we've almost missed something critically important - our friends birthday. Now I need your best ideas on how, where and when we are celebrating. We owe her so much, we simply must make the best party, she could ever wish for." And that is where you step in. What would each of them propose? How would the party look like? What presents will they give you? What would they cook for you? How each of them would congratulate you? What will be 2-3 most important moments about this very special evening?

LOL well, my birthday is like, in twelve days, so, let's see hmmm

Soap (of course) - I think he'd propose a big ass party, knowing full well that i hate them (anxiety), but his love language I think is trying to get everyone to feel as appreciated as he can, and what would be best that surround the person in question with friends? Alternatively, he'd be perfectly ok with planning a low key reunion with a small group of people (more manageable). I think he'd either gift something he'd made, like a painting

Gaz - He'd either go all out like Soap or organize a low key reunion, like pizza and movies at someone's house, and he'd be more attentive to the birthday person's desires. I have the feel from him that he'd either get you gift cards or take you shopping for whatever you want.

Price - I think he's the more attentive but in a father like way. He'd try to remember the things you like or don't, would bring you flowers (and if you ever mentioned your favourites in his presence, he'd remember and bring those) because he is a gentleman, maybe a gift card as well and pay for you if the group goes out for your birthday (and pays for everyone else too). I wholeheartedly he'd hug you to wish you a happy birthday (Gaz and Soap would as well, but Price's hugs are something else)

Ghost - Well. Ahem. I don't think he would even register anyone's birthday unless that person was very close, like, core team of TF141 close. And I think that person would receive, maybe, a quiet nod after someone else mentions there's a birthday happening, but he'd never be the first one to mention it or attract attention into it. If you're friends he'd join the group at the pub or at the pizza+movies at home (he'd prefer that for sure). If you're more than friends, well... pizza+movies at home for sure, but alone. And about gifts, I think it'd be either an Amazon gift card or something more personal if you're involved, like a carved piece, (because I HC that he carves wood as a way to control stress)

Nikolai - If you're good friends he'll appear with some contraband/hard to find/weird but amazing shit that he'd thought you'd like (and he was right). Just like Price, he'll insist on taking the group out for dinner and drinks and pay for it (in the end Price and him will try to outwit the other to pay), or if you prefer the pizza and movies at home he'll insist on ordering the best pizza that can be found in town ('only the best for you')

The most important moment of this whole scenario? Feeling that you belong. That you have a family, even if small, different and disfunctional. Reliable ones that you know would give their life for you, and they know you'd do the same.

I always end rambling with these asks, I love them and then my brain starts spinning

[chanshoesunite]

24 Days of CHRISMAS: Day 11

Content info: slice of life, bang chan x fem!reader, neighbor!chan, neighbor!reader, idiots falling in love,

Word count: 1559

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, reader and Chan drink wine (drink responsively, kids!)

“Do I look cute?”

Hare, to her credit, looks as if she wants to roll her eyes but doesn’t. “Cute but like in a hoe-y yet elegant way,” she offers, which is basically what you had been going for in your deep red dress combined with a few cute accessories.

You nod. “Great.”

She smiles. “He’s really that cute, is he?”

You nod again. “He is.”

“And he has seven roommates?”

“He does,” you confirm as you check your eyeliner again.

Hare lets out a low whistle again. “Well, happy early birthday to us,” she says, checking her summer dress again. “I’ve only seen the tall one so far and that alone would have kept my dreams wet for months.”

The party has already started, you can hear it through the open windows – Chan said eight when he waved at you over the fence the other day while you were watering the flowers (great situation, very sexy, but at least you were wearing very little, so maybe that can trigger some car wash fantasies in him?), but you and your friend don’t want to look like Billy No-Mates-es, so you decided that 8:30 is the earliest you can possibly show up.

Hare slips her phone and a set of keys into the pocket of her flowery dress. “Let’s go. You look hot. And I’m even letting you claim the fame for my Nutella cake.” You smile lovingly at her, grab the plates and march through the door she’s holding open for you.

A minute later, you’re already ringing the doorbell, and it only takes a second before Chan opens the door. He is wearing a shirt this time, to your slight disappointment, but it’s a low-cut racerback, so you’re not too sad about it. His smile widens as he sees you, and there is a giddiness rising in you.

“The neighbours!” he exclaims happily, looking as if he wants to hug you, but that’s impossible with you carrying two plates of cake.

Hare to the rescue.

“Hi Chan,” she says, immediately understanding your reaction and grabbing the plates from you, “I’ll just quickly take those to the fridge, they need to be chilled, okay? Great, see you!” And she shoulders her way past him, winking at you before gliding away.

Chan looks confused for a second, but then he turns back to you and smiles even wider. “Hey, YN, I’m so glad you could make it!” And then he pulls you into a loose hug. His fresh cologne mixed with the scent of sun lotion is a decidedly summery smell and really makes you wish you could bottle it and spray it on your pillow, as weird as that might sound.

“Thanks for the invite,” you say, using the hug to run your hand over his muscly arms. Are you imagining him shivering? Too soon, you both let go again.

He steps aside. “Come in, there’s already lots of people here,” he says, and you smile as if it were good news that you’ll have to share Chan with all of them all night.

The next few hours pass by in a blur, though – there is lots of food, and Felix is excited to see you again and hang out with you, and you end up sitting in the grass with him, Hare, Hyunjin and lots of cake for longer than you would have thought, but you are having an amazing time. As night falls, there is a little bonfire, and someone starts playing the guitar as a few people sing. It’s more of a comfortable get-together than a full-on party, and since that’s much more up your alley, you’re comfortable and relaxed.

On your way back from the bathroom, you find Chan loading the dishwasher in the kitchen. Wordlessly, you start helping him, and as he glances up and finds you, a soft smile appears on his face.

“You don’t have to do this, you’re our guest, you should be having fun,” he chides lightly.

You grab another two plates. “And who makes sure that you are having fun?” you ask.

Chan pauses for a moment. “That’s a very sweet thing of you to say,” he admits quietly, and you share a warm smile over all the dirty dishes.

“So,” you begin. “Want to tell me how all of you ended up in this house together? Or would you rather we sang some Backstreet Boys again?”

The Backstreet Aussie laughs before launching into his tale, and you chat animatedly as you load the dishwasher and wash at least two dozen glasses. You find out that he works in music production, misses his dog Berry and considers Felix as a little brother.

“This house is the best thing that could have happened to us,” he says, “it’s like a chosen family.”

You smile. You know exactly what he means.

Soon, you’re finished cleaning up for the moment, and, drying your hands, you look at each other. Chan catches your wrist lightly, and his touch scalds your skin. “Want to get some food and go up to the balcony?” he asks. You don’t even hesitate – the butterflies in your stomach are cheering you on for it – and help him get some meat, sides and a bottle of white wine before following the guy upstairs – maybe it is a little bit reckless, but if anything should go south, there’s always Hare and her karate skills. You shoot her a quick message as you follow Chan up the stairs, and then you find yourself on a spacious balcony with a loveseat and a little table. You can see the party below in the darkness, but you yourselves are invisible to any onlookers from below. Perfect. Chan sets down the food on the table and then leans over the balustrade for a moment, looking down at the people eating, drinking, dancing and talking. He seems to be taking a deep breath. “I really wanted to meet you,” he admits. “I really liked our little duet last week. I just didn’t think a party would be the right way for me since – well, since I am the way I am.” What you hear is: I am not a guy for hook-ups. Oh thank fuck, you would have died if he had been a playboy. You stand next to him and touch his arm so he’ll meet your eye. “Good for you that I am the way I am, too, then.” You smile at each other for an endless moment, and then Chan tugs you back onto the love seat. “Let’s eat.” There you sit, feet up on the balustrade, eating and drinking, listening to the party sounds and laughing at the snippets of drunk conversation that drift up the wall of the house. Afterwards, you drink wine straight from the bottle, your conversation never halting, flowing effortlessly, as if you’ve known each other forever. You can’t see more than his outline, but he is beautiful in the moonlight, and the whole situation, this whole date within a party, seems to be a movie scene rather than something happening to you. The air gets chillier, though, and at some point, you can’t suppress a shiver. Chan notices it. “Do you need me to get you a hoodie?” he asks, looking over at you in a concerned manner. “I have many of those, if you like black?”

But you feel bold. “Your arm would do,” you say, and you can feel his smile more than you see it as he puts his arm around you, his hand warm on your skin. “Is this okay?” he asks, stroking your arm slightly with his hand, and maybe it is the wine, but you feel yourself ruining the romantic mood when you reply, “Believe when I say – I want it that way.” Chan stares for a second, then he explodes into giggles. “Honestly, YN, you’re too good to be true.” You join in his laughter, happy that your pun hasn’t put him off – because you want him to like you for who you really are. You can’t always be pretty in dresses and polite, anyway. He suddenly frowns, though. “I really can’t think of a Backstreet Boy lyric that has anything to do with kissing, though,” he murmurs, and it is obvious despite the dark that he is looking at your lips now. You take a deep breath. “Well, there’s always that 1D song, Kiss You?” Chan’s face lights up. “I can do a brilliant Harry Styles impression,” he promises. “I’m sure you can,” you smile and lean in, “but maybe show me some other time?” “I will,” he confirms, and closes the distance between you, pressing his lips gently to yours. It is sweet and innocent and cute and slow, the perfect first kiss between two people who don’t like to rush good things. It seems to last forever, even though you know it can’t have been longer than a minute. Once you’ve broken the kiss to get a decent breath, Chan leans in to gently kiss your cheek. “I’m glad we moved here,” he murmurs. “Me too,” you say, smiling sassily. “Feels like an upgrade from six children.” “Have you met Jisung?” “Fair point.” And you lean in to kiss him again, planning on making out all night on that little balcony loveseat. And so you do.

~End of Miniseries~

~Day 12~

[kitkatopinions]

Now that I think about it, giving more character birthdays would be a good thing, not only is it a good way to get the show trending (there’s a whole ass meme about celebrating character birthdays) but they could make little jokes about them. Seriously Qrow being born on a leap day is right there. My only guess in why they don’t is because they don’t want our world’s calendar to fuck up the worldbuilding but like…it’s already a mess so might as well

No for real, how can they fuck up worldbuilding that doesn't exist? XD Having Ruby say 'it's January' might be kind of funny because then we'd be like 'lol, January is named after the Greek god Janus, but there is no Janus in this world,' but like... It wouldn't throw off the timeline because there is no real timeline, and it wouldn't actually throw off the fantasy system they've invented because in the actual show itself, the only thing they ever say is 'it is fall,' and 'classes are out for the summer.'

It's just weird, there's so little world-building that they're not even doing the easy thing of just copy-pasting our months, because they refuse to keep a real timeline. It's low key hilarious actually, but it bypasses a whole layer of making the characters feel more real and personal and caring.

[theyaresogay]

Willow memes I found on Pinterest that I cackle at (I’m just to going keep adding to this)

one

Kit: Man it sure is dark in here…

Jade:

Kit: I'm not scared or anything.

Jade:

Kit: I mean, who is afraid of the dark these days, anyways?

Kit: Not me. No sir.

Jade: …Do you want me to hold your hand?

Kit: Yes please.

two

Elora: Start with some light flirting, okay? Subtlety is key.

Kit, nodding: Sure, I can do that.

—Later—

Kit: Hey, Jade! High Five!

*they high five*

Jade: Okay?

Kit: *interlacing their fingers* I'm in love with you.

Jade: *smiling confusedly* What?

Elora: *face palms*

three

Kit: *does something ridiculous*

Jade: Great, like I needed to get anymore attracted to you.

Kit: ... What?

Jade: ANNOYED. ANNOYED BY YOU. That’s what I said.

four

King Hastur: So, Queen Sorsha, what is your daughter like?

Sorsha: Well, she's-

Kit: Full of sass with a really cute-

Sorsha: Kit!

Kit: ...Lass. *winks at Jade*

Jade: *smitten eye rolling*

five

Graydon: Why are Kit and Jade sitting with their backs to each other?

Elora: They had a fight.

Graydon: Then why are they still holding hands?

Elora: *shrugs* Kit gets sad when they fight.

six

Kit: Mom, I understand now why you arranged a marriage for me. As a princess, and heir to the throne, it is my duty to form alliances to protect our kingdom.

Sorsha: I am so happy to hear you say that. I know it's a great sacrifice, and I am so proud that you are willing to go through with it.

Kit: ...And since Jade turned out to be essentially a Bone Reaver princess, I decided to marry her.

Sorsha: .....

seven

Elora: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Kit?

Kit: ...No.

Graydon: I do!

Elora: I know, Graydon.

Graydon: I'm sad!

Elora: I know, Graydon.

eight

Kit, joking around: When are you going to go out with me?

Jade: I don't know, when are you going to ask me?

—Later—

Elora: AND YOU JUST RAN AWAY?!

Kit: I DIDN'T EXPECT HER TO FLIRT BACK!

nine

Elora: Every family has a gay cousin

Kit: I don't have a gay cousin

Elora: Maybe you're the gay cousin

Kit: Holy shit, I'm the gay cousin

ten

Madmartigan: Kids, I'm sorry I had to leave, and wasn't there for you both growing up. I an so proud of the people you have become. Kit, you are one of the finest, bravest knights this world has ever known. Kit: Thanks, dad.

Madmartigan: And Airk... you've got great hair, son.

Airk: (overcome with emotions) Thanks, dad.

Willow: Really?

Jade: He's always had really low expectations.

Elora: Tell me about it. Before we started dating I once gave him a cupcake I stole from the kitchens. He thought I'd made him a birthday cake. He cried.

eleven

Elora: I give up. I am so tired.

Kit: Get the emergency supply!

Jade: *carries Graydon and places him in front of Elora*

Graydon: *smiles*

Elora: AND I’M BACK BABY, LET'S GOOO

twelve

Airk: Hey, Kit? Can I get some dating advice?

Kit: Just because I'm with Jade doesn't mean I know how I did it.

Kit: *turns to Jade looking curious* How did I do it?

Jade: I think it’s definitely the hair.

Kit: *smuggly smirking*

thirteen

Kit, messaging Jade at 2 am: lmfao

Kit: guess what?

Jade: Bitch, with the way you live, I have no fucking idea.

fourteen

Kit: Look at that! The statues smirking at me.

Elora: You’re right, that’s weird.

Boorman: It’s art, it isn’t weird.

Graydon *turns to Jade*: Why isn't the statue smirking at me?

Jade: It isn't smirking at anyone, they're all just imagining it.

Graydon: Three of us saw it, Jade. How do you explain that?

Jade: *points at Elora* Sleep deprivation, *points at Kit* Severe paranoia, *points at Boorman* Delusional personality disorder.

fifteen

Kit: Let's watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

Jade: Okay.

kit: And make out during the scary parts.

Jade: Th-

Jade: The scary parts.

Jade: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

sixteen

Jade: You know what I learned from years of being friends with Kit?

Graydon: There's no such thing as too idiotic?

Elora: Never let your friends know for sure if you like them?

Boorman: Always hold a grudge?

Kit: I don’t know what you learned, but I learned to never steal your socks.

seventeen

Airk: Oh you travelled across most of the known world and nearly died multiple times to reach me? What a wonderful treat! Oh, those guys who've been trying to kill you the last few months? They're fine, don't worry about them, they're my mates. They still want to kill you though. Let me give you the most awkward hugs in existence and be really creepy and spacey then start spouting the most cultish speech ever.

Kit: What are you on?

Airk: Wyrm's milk.

Kit: Forget I asked.

eighteen

Elora: Sonetimes I drink milk straight out of the container.

Kit: The cow?!?!?!

Elora: What?

Jade: Elora, W H Y?

Nineteen

Kit: *Kicks the door down looking panicked*

Jade: What did you do?

Kit: Nobody died.

Jade: WHAT KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT?!?

twenty

Kit: Jade, you deserve an award for putting up with me.

Jade: You are my reward, Kit.

[meanwhile]

Boorman: Scorpia, you deserve an award for putting up with me.

Scorpia: Hell yeah I do; you're a real bitch sometimes. Scratch that, all the time.

[uloelu]

Location: Windslar, Windenburg

(transcript under the cut)

Episode 1 | Previous | Next

Hello again! Long time no see. Work got crazy these last few weeks, and I had little time to get this episode out. Thankfully, I pulled through. I'm excited to show y'all the second episode of the Fosters series! Part 2 drops tomorrow.

Scene 1 - 28 Windslar

Haven (checking her phone): 7:00AM. Spectacular. Happy birthday to me.

(heads downstairs, scowling) And Chloe’s making breakfast. That’s just great. Oatmeal pancakes and protein shakes for everyone.

Josh: Hey, isn’t today your birthday?

Haven: Nothing gets past you.

Josh: Well, I hope your day improves. And I like your t-shirt.

Haven: Thanks. I stole it off some guy back in San Myshuno. Never got a chance to actually read Thrasher.

Josh: Really? I’ve got a couple of older copies that I brought with me. Consider it my gift to you.

Haven: You don’t have to do that.

Josh: Relax, it’s your birthday. I hardly read them, anyway.

Haven: Damn it. I’ll have to get them after school. Cassandra’s waiting for me out front.

Chloe: You’ll miss my pancakes...

Haven: I’ll live.

Scene 2 - Copperdale Prep

Cassandra (sheepishly): So...I probably should have checked to see if Dunkin’ was actually open before dragging you out of your house early...

Haven: Renovations. Shit happens. I’ll just eat a full lunch.

Luna (kissing Malcolm Landgraab): Missed you last night, Mackie. Thought you were going to come over.

Haven: Nevermind. I’ve lost my appetite.

Haven (going about her day): I’ve had worse birthdays, honestly. Nothing beats having glass bottles thrown at your head while trying to put a toddler to sleep. Stuffy uniforms and boring classes are heaven compared to that.

Wes (walking into class late): Another detention, ladies and gents. I’m thinking about going for the world record.

Haven: As much as I hate to admit it, Windenburg and Copperdale Prep are kind of growing on me.

Mostly thanks to Wes and Cassandra. Though Wes did invite his...situation to the get-together our foster parents are throwing for me later tonight, so he’s on my temporary shit list.

Haven (playing piano in a restaurant after school): I even managed to convince Solstice to let me practice on their grand piano on my days off from work. They think they’re cheating me by getting free performances. I just want the experience.

Scene 3 - 28 Windslar

(The birthday is a low-key affair at the Brookestone-Walker residence. All the foster kids are in attendance, along with Cassandra and Morgan.)

Haven: And fine, Morgan isn’t bad at all. She’s friends with Cassandra and Wolfgang, so she has to be cool. I guess it just feels weird to watch Wes focus his attention on someone else, even though I’m not interested in him at all.

Morgan (telling a story to Wes and Haven): You should have seen the look on her face! She had no idea we knew her favorite...

Haven: He’s like family to me now.

It’s strange learning how to fit into this new, makeshift family. I feel like I’m constantly saying the wrong thing. I’ve never cared so much about how people see me. I don’t know if I want them to like me...I just don’t want them to hate me.

(Audreyanna hands Haven a gift.)

Haven: I didn’t think you were going to get me anything.

Audreyanna: You only turn 17 once, Haven. I remember that age very well. I hope it’s your best yet.

Haven: Thank you.

Scene 4 - Outside 28 Windslar

(Morgan and Wes sneak outside.)

Morgan: I’ve been trying to figure you out for a while now.

Wes: And?

Morgan: And I’ve realized that it’s pointless. I simply am never going to get you.

Wes: I doubt that.

Morgan: You never give me a straight answer. You talk a big game but haven’t made a move. How are you so sure?

Wes: You already have me. There’s nothing more to get.

(They kiss.)

Morgan: We’re right in front of your house, you know.

Wes: Don’t overthink it.