#if you see this no you don’t bc I don’t even know what I mean rn

[miumura]

TREATIN’ ME LIKE AN ENEMY ｡ ｡ ｡ ｡ 엔하이픈 🪽 ✦

( 𝓢 ) ﹕ in a secret relationship with your “enemy”

──── enhypen hyung line x f ! r ╱ ⌕ est. but secret relationship, workplace / co-workers au, fluff, comfort ( ? ) ∿ w. petnames, rude co-worker + mention of blood in sunghoon’s ( nothing graphic ) wc. 1.6K+ ( 1645 ) ｡ ｡ might need to make jey into my top 5 bc i love this song 😆

❛❛ 💬 ❞ 𝗦𝗢𝗣𝗛 > 𓂃 𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗖𝗞 𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙 ⋮ 🪽

LEE HEESEUNG

“You’ll be working with…Lee Heeseung,” your supervisor said to you during a team meeting, unknowingly dropping a bombshell. It left your co-workers to exchange nervous glances around the room. Everyone knew you and Heeseung were practically sworn enemies, your relentless competitiveness with each other being the worst-kept secret in the office.

“So, go sit with your partner and start working on a new proposal,” your supervisor wrapped up the meeting, leaving everyone to scramble around to switch seats.

You chose to stay put, looking extremely disinterested as Heeseung was making his way over to the empty seat next to you. As you glanced at him, he seemed to wear the same look too as he sat down.

He scooted his chair closer to you, opening up his laptop. “Let’s work on this project with no hiccups, alright?” he says, his voice loud enough for others to hear.

To everyone else, you two were like oil and water—certainly not a good pair in other people’s eyes. What your co-workers didn’t know, however, was how Heeseung sneakily chose to get closer to intertwine his hands with yours under the table.

You subtly squeezed his hand back, both of you trying—and failing—to suppress the smiles threatening to creep onto your faces.

They certainly didn’t know how good of a pair you two could be.

PARK JONGSEONG

“Oh come on, you’re avoiding me even when we’re alone now?” Jay teased after trying to get your attention for the past few minutes. “It was just an act, I promise.”

You didn't even look up from your screen. “Suddenly sending me spam emails at once in front of our co-worker, and telling me I can’t delete them because one of them has important project details…” You tried to grit your teeth to hold back your frustration, but the words still slipped out. “And now I have to go through every single one of these with the same titles but blank emails? That’s a bit mean, don’t you think?”

"People were getting suspicious," he said, rolling his chair closer to you, only for you to shove it away with your leg. He just smirked, clearly amused by your reaction. "They said I’ve been too ‘normal’... or I guess, too nice to you lately."

“Well, I rather have a nice boyfriend right now, instead of him watching me go through these emails,” you huffed, your eyes still fixed on the screen. “You could at least share me another copy of it or just tell me now if it’s actually anything important.”

“I would think it’s rather important,” Jay replied, drawing out the last word in a teasing sing-song tone.

Finally, you glanced over at him, your frustration barely contained. He wore a small but sly smirk, his eyebrows slightly raised, clearly waiting to see what you’d do next.

“Are you going to tell me?” you asked, not sure whether to be more annoyed or curious.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to those emails for that?” He said, causing you to abruptly spin around, with your eyes glued once again.

“You’re really mean,” you said, thinking of the plan to ignore him once again.

He lightly chuckled, getting up from his chair and walking behind you. His hand rested on the back of your chair, and you felt a familiar warmth when his other hand slid over yours on the mouse.

“It’s this one,” he whispered close to your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You jolted slightly, turning to face him, eyes wide in surprise as his heartwarming smile spread across his face. “Why don’t you read it?”

You cleared your throat, your fingers lingering on the mouse as you clicked on the email. But there were no project details—just a simple message:

“Let’s go to the place you’ve always wanted to go to?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly turned to face Jay, lips parted in surprise as you watched his eyes light up, clearly waiting for your reaction.

“So, what do you say?” Jay crouched down to your level, holding your hand gently.

“Let’s go on a date?”

SIM JAEYUN

"Do you not know how to do a single thing?" you asked in disbelief, flipping through the “messy” weekly report Jake had written.

"Are you seriously trying to criticize my work right now?" Jake shot back, his voice sharp enough to make heads turn outside the break room.

He stepped closer, reaching for the paper in your hand. His brows furrowed, and his expression hardened, his frustration clear as he tilted his head to meet your gaze.

“Do you think you’re my bos—” Jake stopped mid-sentence, his ears perking at the sound of hurried footsteps outside. His eyes darted to the window of the door, catching a glimpse of a group of people quickly scurrying away. He walked closer, double checking to make sure everyone was out of sight.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, his serious demeanor melted in an instant. He turned back to you with a cheeky grin, a sight you started to get familiar with. Without hesitation, he crossed the room to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight hug.

“Not at work, babe,” you said as you nudged him away from you, although you still wanted to be in his embrace. His pouty expression had you lightly chuckling as his hands stayed firmly on your hips.

“Are you really the same person a minute ago?” you teased, wondering how your boyfriend was able to change expressions that quick.

“Is my acting that good?” Jake asked, his grin growing even wider, his pride written all over his face.

"A little too good," you admitted with a small laugh, your fingers tracing gentle circles over his knuckles. "I wonder what you were going to say next? Do I think I'm your... what?"

“Boss,” he clarified where he had left off from, his tone softening as he added, “and we both know that’s not what you are.”

“So, what am I?”

“I think you’re my girl,” he said confidently, but then he quickly shook his head. “Scratch that—I know that you’re my girl.”

PARK SUNGHOON

“And… Y/N,” your co-worker trailed off, his tone suddenly sharp as he glanced over your report. The air in the room grew heavy, and an uneasy silence filled the space. “You’ve done better work than this.”

The sound of a pin dropping could have echoed in the room. All eyes shifted to you as heat rose to your face. Your own gaze flickered from the report in his hands to the floor, shame creeping in.

“Are you going to say anything?” he pressed.

“I’m sorry…” you managed to mumble, your voice barely audible.

“That’s it?” His tone grew harsher, and your eyes darted back to him, surprised by the sound in his voice. “Aren’t you going to reassure us that you’ll do better next time?”

“I…” You bit your lip, trying to steady yourself, but the sting from the broken skin sent a jolt through you.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so—“

“If you don’t mind letting her finish her sentence instead of acting like a jerk, that would be greatly appreciated,” Sunghoon’s voice cut him off, making everyone turn toward him.

You blinked, shocked to hear him speak up for you. The whispers started immediately—no one expected Sunghoon to defend you, not given your so-called “bad terms.”

“Instead of giving her constructive criticism, you’re just trying to tear her down,” Sunghoon continued, his voice calm but serious. He picked up a copy of one of the very reports laid out, flipping through it with sharp precision. “And honestly, I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about anyone else’s work.”

“Excuse me?” The co-worker looked both offended and startled.

“When was the last time our supervisor called your report anything more than average?”

The room filled with hushed murmurs, and you saw the co-worker’s face turn red. He fired back, “Why are you defending her? Aren’t you two supposed to hate each other?”

Sunghoon leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Should I just leave my morals because of some petty label people decided to put on us? I won’t stand by while you talk to her like that.”

“You two clearly have something going on—” the man started, pointing an accusatory finger at both of you, only to stop mid-sentence when Sunghoon suddenly scraped his chair against the floor and stood up.

The entire room fell silent as Sunghoon grabbed your arm, his touch firm but not forceful. Without a word, you stood as well, letting him guide you toward the door.

“If you’ll excuse us both,” Sunghoon said, his voice having an unmistakable edge, “call us back when this team can manage a respectful meeting.”

The door shut firmly behind you, muffling the chaos of the room. Sunghoon immediately turned to you, his hands gently cupping your face.

“You’re bleeding,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lip with tenderness. You winced slightly, and he frowned. “I’ll get you some ointment.”

“Hoon, you didn’t have to do that…” you said softly.

He shook his head, his hands still framing your face. “Come on, even if everyone thinks we’re enemies, I wasn’t going to just sit there and let someone treat my girlfriend like that. And I’m sorry I didn’t step in sooner. I didn’t think that jerk would keep going like that.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you smiled up at him. “He’s always been like that. I’ve just dealt with it for so long.”

“Well, you don’t have to anymore,” Sunghoon said firmly, his hands moving to gently hold your arms. His eyes softened as he looked at you. “Regardless of what people think or what they call us, I’ll stand up for you.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

‘💬’ ─── this was supposed to be an 0t7 work but i started blanking out 😖 but hey first hyung line work !!

[rxmxa]

mars + competition 😛

I was watching The Nanny the other night and Fran is soooo Leo-coded, specifically Venus and Mars. But what really stands out to me is her Leo Mars energy, especially in how direct she is in romance. Like when Mr. Sheffield hinted that she probably wasn’t that great of a kisser, and her response was to push him onto the couch and make out with him LMAOOOO. That Leo Mars pride was not about to let him get away with that comment 😭. She’s also THAT girl with her outfits, the bold colors, the fur, the way she commands attention without even trying.

But the real reason I see her as a Leo Mars is because of how others, especially women, would get jealous of her. Mars represents competition. It’s not just how we fight but also how people will try to compete with us and where they’ll aim their jabs. For Fran, her outfits were always a target. People would call them too much, too flashy, or even cheap. But it wasn’t really about the clothes. It was about how effortlessly she managed to shine and attract attention, especially from men.

Your Mars sign and house can give you hints about where people will try to strike, thinking it’ll hurt you the most. For Fran, her Leo Mars energy made her shineeee, stand out, and command attention in a way that had the other girlies shook. But what made her unstoppable wasn’t just the way she would shine. It was her response (and thats how you use your mars energy purr). She stayed unbothered. Every insult, every jab just seemed to only make her smile bigger and come into the next scene with another amazing coat.

but thats the thing with Leo Mars energy. People will get jealous when you’re complimented on your creativity, your personality, or just how you light up a room. They’ll make comments like, “You’re overdressed,” (leos are the ones dressing up just to sit in living room for thanksgiving lol) or “I don’t know what they see in her.” but we know that when people look at your mars energy and youre using it to your full power what they actually mean is “I wish I had that energy.” Fran’s entrance into any room or scene would have people turning their heads or some characters looking her up and down lol. And then she’d smile even bigger double down on her charisma and leave them maddddd

She also got hate for how much the kids loved her (aka Leo energy, tied to the fifth house, rules children, creativity, and joy, and Fran embodied all of it). The kids adored her because she treated them with warmth, humor, and genuine care, and that just added another layer to why people couldn’t handle her shine.

Mars placements are fascinating to look at because they don’t just show us how we fight. They show us where people will try to provoke us and where they hope we’ll embarrass ourselves. With Leo Mars, when your pride gets bruised, the instinct is to react. You want to throw a a big ass fit, prove your point, and make sure everyone knows they shouldn’t have said or done that to you. and yes sometimes when we show out it might work but only STRATEGICALLY. other times? It’s just embarrassing. I say this as a Leo Mars myself because when I was younger i would loseee it 😭. And looking back, I know that’s exactly what they wanted bc it gave them a reaction and therefore power over me. They wanted me to lose control, and I gave them the show they were hoping for.

That’s why Mars placements require strategy. You have to understand how your Mars energy operates and when to lean in or pull back. One of my besites has a Taurus Mars and her energy looks totally different. Taurus Mars people value comfort, stability, and high standards. They know what they like and they won’t settle for less. But that’s exactly where people will poke. Her family will make comments like, “You’re so bougie,” or “Why are you being so picky?” And those aren’t harmless jokes. They’re calculated comments aimed at making her question herself bc in a way with our mars ppl know it can land. But the best response for my bestie as a Taurus Mars is to double down. Own it. Stay firm. Keep being picky and valuing quality because those comments are just projections.

Another friend of mine has libra mars. Libra is ruled by Venus as well so her Mars (similar to taurus) energy shines in relationships, beauty, and aesthetics but in a diff way. But because of that, people always have something to say. They’ll comment on how much time or money she puts into her appearance or nitpick her relationships like they have a say in them. But Mars in Libra thrives in those areas. The best move isn’t to shrink back. It’s to lean in. Show up in the most flawless outfit, invest even more in her beauty rituals, and let them deal with their own envy.

The key with mars is knowing your own triggers so you don’t let just anybody have power over you. in my random mars observations post I had said “Overall, we know that the sign and the house our mars is in are themes of the martian we have to deal with on a daily basis. we must recognize that there may be more conflict in those aspects of our lives, and we must decide if we will let it overwhelm us and devour us with rage and frustration. Or if we are going to dive in already using our expertise and previous experiences and being selective about where we are going to devote our energy.”

For example: For Gemini Mars, competition often comes through communication. Arguments, debates, or gossip can become battlegrounds, and if Mars is in the third house, this might show up with siblings or in their immediate environment. Cancer Mars might experience conflict with family members or within their home life. Emotional manipulation or guilt-tripping can be common ways people try to compete with them.

Libra Mars faces challenges in relationships. People might criticize their romantic choices, comment on their appearance, or undermine their peace. The trick for Libra Mars is not letting those opinions throw them off balance. Leo Mars often faces competition through their ability to shine. People will call them too flashy or accuse them of being attention-seeking, but this usually comes from envy. The best response is to keep showing up confidently and unapologetically.

Mars in the sixth house often faces challenges at work. Coworkers might test their patience or try to undermine them in small ways. Mars in Virgo has a similar energy, but their competition often comes from within too. They may struggle with perfectionism or worry about their health (making self-care essential.. protect that skin, gut, mental health!!)

Mars in the 10th house feels the pressure in their career and public image. They might deal with judgment, high expectations, or criticism from others and themselves (my former coworker quit a job bc the girlies were MADDD and hating on her which I understand but she should’ve went harder to shitttt on them). Mars in the 11th house, or Aqua mars, often faces competition in social settings or group dynamics. They might feel excluded or like they don’t fit in, but their strength comes from staying true to their individuality (and that is what attracts the right people). Scorpio Mars or Mars in the 8th house and people might try to compete in more subtle but super manipulative ways like pushing your boundaries or making backhanded little comments to see if you are giving into their power plays. or people compete to the point where they are obsessed with you. they could try to use secrets against you (the type to have ppl ask around for dirt on you). but instead scorpio mars/ mars in the 8h (DONT CRASH OUT IK U WANT TO) but stay calm, smile in their face, pretend you don’t give a fuck. They’ll be thinking “Why isn’t this working?”

But anyhoomsttt that is really what works for me with Mars energy. Whether it’s Leo, Taurus, Libra, or any other sign, Mars isn’t just about raw action (obviously we know it can be and sometimes in has to be) but for the most part It’s about playing smart. Sometimes it means showing out, sometimes it means standing firm, and sometimes it means being so deeply comfortable in your own energy that other people can’t stand it. and they can stay mad ❤️

[madaqueue]

FOOL'S GOLD SINKS ALL THE SAME

aventurine never fails to cause a scene, in public or in private.

pairing: aventurine x gn!reader

themes/content: reader has a history of sexual trauma (it is not described in graphic detail but it is very clearly alluded to. it is not romanticized or sexualized). smut. mentions of aventurine's past, oral + fingering + penetration (reader receiving), lots of ocean metaphors bc i'm normal abt it. 18+ MDNI (wk: 4.7k)

a/n: letting this blond man ruin my life

“Bet on me.”

The words barely land in your ears as Aventurine snakes his way around the table. You can’t respond, can’t even look at him, without inviting catastrophe, and he knows: he makes it a challenge, of course, reflecting the glimmering lights almost more brightly than the gaudy disco ball twirling away overhead. In the corner of your vision, the black flash of armed guards weighs in your mind, and instead of straining your eyes to catch his, you let your attention fall aimlessly ahead.

Then, you do precisely as you were told: nothing (technically, the IPC’s orders were to “Observe and gather intel” which you know means “Don’t let Aventurine cause a scene.” Perhaps that’s why they’ve sent you on so many jobs together - they need him chained, and you’re an inexpensive stand-in leash. Being a collar doesn’t take much skill, after all).

The game continues, cards and chips moving hands, and Aventurine loses after a stupid play he’d never make, and pouts.

“What a shame,” he says to himself, resting his chin on a glove you know is more expensive than the ruby velvet lining the table. “Dye like this is hard to find,” he once told you. “It’s almost impossible to get anything this dark. Only fools pay for red, but that’s why gamblers love it: it’s cheap and flashy.”

When the next round begins, he taps his fingers along the table, a tell he’d never let slip, one subtle enough not to miss. With barely-controlled eyes darting from player to player, he feigns nervousness and shuffles his chips to the center.

“Guess I’m all in,” he chuckles, letting his smirk waver for half a second.

The fools around you think he’s bluffing; they think they’ve got him. People tend to let their guard down when they think they’ve won, when they can’t see that the finish line has been moved. More chips rattle onto the table - they’d be idiots to not get in on pulling one over on the well-loathed IPC.

Again, you hear ‘bet on me,’ and for some stupid reason, you follow, clearing the space in front of you with a hesitant push of your own wealth (well, the IPC’s, of course) into the ever-growing pile.

On the neighboring stool, a man leans over, letting his scruff tickle the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, sweetheart. Let that man lose his money, and when I win it back, I’ll spoil you.” He smells like cheap whiskey and cigarettes and you want to claw his throat out.

Across the table, one of the other gamblers lets out a shrill complaint of, “No coaching during the plays!” and the man beside you innocently raises his arms, not before winking at you, and you wonder if you were to kill him on this table how much the velvet would cost to replace.

Instead, you bat your eyelashes and lay your cards down. “Oh well, maybe I’ll win the next one,” you giggle, sending your chips toppling onto the others with one final shove.

The next moves happen rather quickly: Aventurine reveals his hand, people shout, the money is claimed from the table, and somebody grabs your arm. It’s only when cool cloth softly rubs your skin that you recognize the man dragging you towards the exit and let your muscles be pulled behind.

“Told you,” Aventurine whispers, his breath lighter than feathers.

He cashes out silently and guides you towards the elevators, this time with one palm placed on your lower back rather than wrapped around your wrist. Less possessive, you think - less likely to cause a scene.

The moment the elevator doors close, you turn to him.

“What the hell was that?”

“What?” He cocks his head to the side and lets that impish grin spread across his face, the one that’s nearly landed him with knuckles on his jaw in an attempt to wipe it off.

“You know that wasn’t what we were sent here to do.” You cross your arms, and he basks in the heat of your body, his wrists now fully snaked around your waist.

“Details, details,” he murmurs with a wave of his hand. “We got the information we needed. It’s not a crime to have a little fun afterwards.”

“It is a crime to disobey orders-”

Just as your annoyance begins to bubble over, the elevator chimes and opens directly into his suite. To break free from his grasp, your feet step forward and graciously carry you inside.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, light bouncing off the white marble that lines every surface.

Of course Aventurine gets a penthouse for these missions. The IPC certainly has to keep up appearances, and with a man like him, anything else might as well fully blow his cover.

He lets you enter on your own, at least, as he waltzes behind you, with the saccharine smell of pride blooming from his skin.

“It’s nice, isn’t it,” he hums, and you want to smack that smug smile off his face.

Before you can, he tosses a cloth sack your way, the coins inside clanking with a sound you nearly don’t recognize.

“For you,” he says easily, leaning against the ever-opulent stone counter.

Something in the sound makes your head feel heavy, under pressure like you’re drowning. It’s familiar in a way you hate, in a way that you remember from the mattresses of shitty hotel rooms and men who smell like cigarettes and the way your tears look under the fluorescent lights of an unfamiliar bathroom.

You know what money like this means for them. And worse, you know what it means for you.

It’s just work, you told yourself the first time someone propositioned you to their room. A way to clear the debt, to push you a little closer to an ever-moving goal. It’s just a body, just a hole, just a few minutes. But it’s different when it’s Aventurine’s body, standing three feet away from yours, when the velvet smells like him and is still warm from his palm.

You don’t open it, you don’t want to. You can feel the metal sitting in your stomach, all too heavy. The act isn’t new, you suppose, but you never thought Aventurine would-

It doesn’t matter.

Now you see the point of his plan - involving you in it was sick, but the IPC must keep up appearances. It’s only fitting for them, you suppose.

So, you slowly make your way across the kitchen, sliding the pouch into your coat pocket. You don’t look at him, you can’t, not anymore. Standing mere inches before him, you lower yourself to your knees - they love the ceremony of it, they always do - and rest your hands along his waist. Practiced fingers begin unworking his belt - normally, at this point, you’d turn your gaze to the man above you, but you can’t.

It’s just work. It’s just work. It’s just work.

But something about this, something about it being him, makes your stomach turn, makes you want to vomit up the metal taste that sits in the back of your throat.

Too busy in your mind, you don’t notice the way Aventurine tenses, nor the panic in his hands as he wraps them around your wrists.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The words come out fast, blended into a single breath.

“I’m – I’m doing what you paid me for.”

Finally, you look at him, and see the sheer horror raging behind his eyes. The smooth mask of a practiced liar doesn’t chip easily, but if you listen close enough, you could hear its pieces falling to the cold tiles beneath your knees.

“No. No.” Pulling you from the ground, he doesn’t let go of your shoulders as you rise. “That’s – that’s not what I’m paying you for.”

“Oh.”

Desperately he searches for something in your face, some hint of the rage that burns beneath his skin, but he finds nothing, just glossed-over eyes and a practiced smile. It’s just work, after all - he of all people should know best.

For a moment, he nearly lets his questions get the better of him - What sick fuck is paying you? Is this a part of your contract? Who do I have to kill for making you think you’re nothing more than a body to be used like this? - but easily, he slips the silk mask back on (he wouldn’t want to frighten you with anger; he wouldn’t forgive himself).

“That money is for you. Just you.” Gloved hands smooth the wrinkles along your collar. “It’s the first installment for the debt you owe - in three months, you’ll be rid of the IPC,” (and me, he nearly says), “forever.”

“Aventurine,” you rasp - you aren’t sure why the words get stuck in your throat, now, after all this time. You aren’t sure why they taste so hot - maybe it’s the burning that lingers in your knees. “You can’t.”

“I can. And I did.” The flash of his smile nearly blinds you again. “You can thank me later, but for now, let’s celebrate-”

“No.”

Your eyes sting, and that pit in your chest is back, heavier, threatening to swallow you whole. It aches and makes your head spin and you want to spit it out, let it claw its way from your insides and take your blood and bones and viscera with it.

“The debt was mine to pay off.”

“Well, no offense, but you were doing a pretty terrible job of it,” he laughs, hesitantly. In all his calculated planning, in the hours and days and weeks and months he spent dreaming of this moment, he had a vision of how you’d react, how you’d smile and sigh and wrap your arms around him and kiss his cheek and how he’d get to hold you, pick you up like you weighed less than air, free from the chains that kept you down, beneath him.

“It doesn’t matter. It was mine.”

Boiling tears stream down your cheeks, leaving trails of steam in their wake, and you want to collapse into yourself, you want to let the pressure build up until you explode and take out this entire building, this entire planet for all you care.

“You can’t – you can’t just buy people, Aventurine,” you choke, the words landing in the room like smoke.

For the first time, his smile falters. “I wasn’t-”

The coin purse finds its way back into your hand, and then to the ground below his feet. He doesn’t reach out to grab you as you turn away.

You’re grateful that the bar is rather empty, aside from a lone stranger on one end with his head down and an empty bottle beside him, and a couple trying to consume one another in the corner. Most other patrons seem too engrossed in the thrill of throwing their lives away, you suppose; that’s the nature of a casino, the price of feeding its hunger. Empty chairs have become quite a comfort over the years, separating you from those who would grab too tightly, or beg for a kiss, just a kiss, or slide a pile of coins your way and wait for you by the elevators.

And yet, when he approaches from behind you, you don’t flinch (you’d know his steps anywhere, you think - they’re too evenly timed to belong to anyone else).

“Is this seat taken?” he grins, but makes no move to sit until you gesture him forward with a wave of your glass.

The two of you let the silence settle, even though Aventurine feels he may choke on it, even though he wants to speak and speak and speak until you forgive him and tell him it’s alright and tell him he’s not evil, he didn’t hurt you, he didn’t mean to. Instead, he silently orders two drinks and lets you sip yours slowly.

“I’m sorry,” you finally say. “I know you were trying to do something good.”

There are words sitting on the tip of his tongue begging to be let free, but he swallows and lets them burn his throat.

“I didn’t plan to work for the IPC this long. I didn’t plan for any of this, really.” You chuckle, a dry sound, and wash it down with the liquid in your cup. “But my debt just kept growing, and they kept saying they needed me - ‘just one more job,’ - but it’s never really just one more, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” and he lets himself laugh.

The casino’s sounds settle atop you, those of victory and highs and pride left to sit out for too long, until it starts to rot.

“The IPC bought my debt,” he says to the empty bottles behind the bar. “It was a long time ago, longer than you’ve been here, I’m sure. It was selfish of me to try and do the same to you.” (Nobody should be owned like that, he almost says. The mark on his neck aches and itches and pricks at his skin like hot iron. He ignores it.)

His empty glass sits on the table, its wet ring bleeding into the wood. A wiser man would have used a coaster, or perhaps, a poorer man, one who couldn’t afford to erase the marks he leaves behind.

“The money is still yours, of course. You don’t have to take it, but I have no use for it.” My debt is too grand to be counted and held in velvet, he thinks.

When your gaze meets his, his pupils dilate - one of the few tells he can’t control.

“Well then,” you hum, the ice clinking against the glass as it swirls in your hold, “I suppose I should use my new-found wealth.” Setting your cup upon the table, the condensation makes it slide towards his, and you grin, an unpracticed one, unpolished. Your cheeks pull back unevenly and you let the cracks in your lips show. “Can I buy you a drink?”

He laughs and you wonder if this is the same sound that plays from the slot machines lining the walls, if this is the bell that rings for victory, the one that makes people willing to throw their savings away for the chance to hear it just one more time.

“Well, I’d be a fool to say no.”

He’s lighter now that your forgiveness has settled on him, kissing his cheeks like a butterfly’s wings, in a way that tickles and doesn’t make him brush it off, a way that reminds him of spring and flowers, of his home and of you.

“Do you remember that job we worked on Belobog?”

“The one where I had to pretend to be married to you?” you laugh, nearly falling off the back of the barstool before Aventurine’s hand catches you in the dip of your back.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he whines, letting his lips turn upwards.

“I just never took you for someone so…comfortable in public.” There’s a glimmer of something sparkling behind your eyes, more than just the neon lights flashing overhead.

Leaning forward, he’s so close you can nearly smell him, wood and liquor, smoke and velvet. Rich in all the ways he ought to be, in all the ways he pretends he is.

“I was just selling our cover,” he purrs, and a part of you wonders if this is dangerous, to be letting him in like this, to tilt your head until the heat radiating from his skin gets trapped in the space between you.

“Yeah? I didn’t know you had orders to pull me onto your lap and kiss my neck every second we were around someone else. It was a bit much, don’t you think?”

“A little overkill never hurt anyone,” his eyes narrow and he wants to open his mouth and swallow you. “Besides, you certainly didn’t seem to mind.”

Your face grows warm, but you don’t back down, don’t turn away, not when you hold the winning hand. “I guess I just took you for someone more private, Aventurine.”

“Oh, you have no idea how I am in private.”

“No?” your glass lands heavily along the bar, and he straightens his back as you stand. “Then why don’t you come back to my room and show me?”

And he’s on his feet in the time it takes to blink.

Your room is smaller than his, of course; the two of you nearly fill the hallway, swelling until every inch of it is consumed by your bodies, leaving imprints of your flesh along the walls. It’s not opulent, it's not marble or pillars or gold, but it’s yours, and now, his.

He ushers you inside first, and the moment the door closes, you press into him.

You don’t speak, and neither does he; you don’t have to, not anymore. When your hands trail up his sides, the breath in his throat catches, a beginner’s tell, one he should have outgrown by now, one he knows better than to let slip. The lilting chuckle he lets out, too, tells you all too much.

When your lips meet his, it’s soft at first, all feathers and butterflies. Hesitant and nervous, but yearning.

In a moment, he lets the silk mask slip.

Then, he’s starving. Hands reach around you and grab and beg and hold, trying to tear off pieces of you so he’ll never have to leave this behind. Your teeth sink into his lower lip and he groans into your mouth and you’re grateful for the wood door as you lean every ounce of your weight against him.

“You have no idea how bad I wanted you,” he sighs, and his breath melds with yours until you’re exhaling one another, until the only thing you can feel and hear and taste is him.

“I do.” Blown pupils meet yours, decorated with stars and constellations. “You’re easier to read than you think, Aventurine.”

“You just know me too well,” he smiles, and his lips are back on yours, hungry and gnawing.

With needy hands you drag him from the entryway and towards the bed, the only real piece of furniture inside, luckily.

There’s a practiced ease as you fall to your knees once again, and a gentleness to his hands as he lifts you where you stand.

“Allow me,” he hums.

Softly, he kneels before you, and he can’t bring himself to look away from the warmth radiating from your face. He’s a flower planted beneath you, watered with your smile and grown by your fingertips; you can step on him, if you’d like, or leave him here until his petals kiss your ankles and pluck him so he may stay in your heart.

He undoes your belt and he tugs your waistband down, too impatient to let gravity do the work. Your shirt’s buttons prove a similarly fluid task, despite the way your hands shake as you rush to undo his. Jewelry and accessories drop to the floor before they’re kicked away, lost to the depths of cloth and fur. Finally, he removes his gloves, tugging off each finger with polished teeth.

“Lay down for me, would you?” he asks in that sweet, silky voice, the one that tastes like wood and liquor, that you want to pour down your throat and swallow with heaving gulps.

The bedding is cotton and scratchy and you don’t even mind, not when he leans over you and you feel his skin on yours, soft and bare. It’s the first time he touches you, truly touches you, with his hands, no expensive velvet or obligation or orders in the way, just his flesh and desire.

You know how much his time is worth, the mental tally of credits summing in your mind with each passing second, and yet, his fingers trail patiently downward, resting at your ribs, your hips, your thighs; his lips follow, marking a path along your body, a map he can return to when he inevitably gets lost and must be found.

Settling between your legs, he inhales and fills his lungs with you, with the salt and sage that blooms from your pulse points. Expensive, but not gaudy - the IPC certainly knows how to maintain an appearance.

His tongue is quick and deft, and he nearly misses the way you tense. When he searches your face, he finds furrowed eyebrows and a frown that a more foolish man would pass off as pleasure.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you say. How do you respond to a question you’ve never been asked, one you’d never prepared for? “I think so, yes.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” The sound makes you flinch. “No, just…”

What more is there? It’s just work, you’d say; Use me, he’d say.

“Here.” Intertwining his fingers with yours, he lets his palm sink into the crater of your own. “Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.”

You nod and smile, crooked and sweet, and he sends one back in return. Slowly, the haven of your thighs welcomes him once again.

He’s softer, now, as he savors you, the way your skin lands on his tongue, the way your hips shift into the mattress. When he presses a finger to your entrance, you gasp and nearly grip his hand, but he pauses, he lets you breathe and relax your knees and stomach. When he pushes further in, a moan falls from your lips and he thinks he’d bet his life savings, go in debt a thousand times over just to hear it again. He knows his luck is true when he adds a second finger and he’s graced with it once more.

“Aventurine,” you breathe, your muscles tensing as the heat in your core builds. You worry what your body will do when it finally overtakes you, when the flames kiss your skin half as kindly as him, so you dig your palms into his hair instead. It’s soft, impossibly so, as you knot it around your knuckles; he groans when your nails scratch along his scalp.

He lets you pull him in, swallowing every sound and touch you’ll grant him with an eager throat. You cry his name when you come undone, and he wonders what fate he owes a debt to for the chance to taste you, hear you, feel you like this.

When he finally leans away, the depths of his pupils have drowned the vibrant cyan and violet that normally kiss their shore, and his chest heaves like a man just saved from the sea. He’s damp like one, too, sweat-slicked hair clinging to his neck.

Light catches on his shoulders and he glows, rising above you as though gravity wouldn’t dare touch him. He kisses you again, and he passes along the ocean and salt and stone, a secret message a fool would miss, but one you can read: I crave you.

There’s no nervousness left as you guide his tip to your entrance, no fear or duty or chains, just his hips and devotion.

“Are you sure?”

Your palm interlinks with his once more, and you grin. “Of course.” The soft, warm skin of his neck finds its way between your teeth, letting it rest behind your canines, and he chuckles eagerly.

“You’re going to be the death of me, you know,” he sighs into you.

“What a wonderful way to die.”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him forward. Cool air blesses your spine as your back arches from the bed, more gentle than feathers or a butterfly’s wings, and you welcome him with ease.

He shudders when he bottoms out, cold in spite of the heat emanating from your skin, trapped in the single layer of atoms between your bodies.

A moment passes, then two. And you realize, in the still seconds, that he’s waiting, restraining. A hand held out, an invitation.

Tentatively, your hips circle his, and a golden whine flows from his lips. It drips from the corners and you lap at the fountain of his wealth.

He lets you guide him, then, lets you move and lead and make a show of what you want, what you like. There’s a rhythm he settles into, an angle, a single spot that makes you claw at his back and drink the air from his lungs. And he, an ever-grateful actor, is more than happy to perform.

There’s a control to it, though. A mask.

“Let go,” you whisper into his open mouth.

He chews the words but barely swallows. “What do you mean?”

Your eyelashes flutter open to find him staring down, blinded by the spotlight of your presence; he blinks to clear the flashing. “You’re holding back; let go.”

It’s a miracle you’ve never noticed until this moment, until you’re this close to him, but his grin is a bit uneven, too, the right side of his smile curving ever-so-slightly higher than the left. You wonder how hard he’s had to work to hide it; you wonder what it would take to see it again.

“If you insist.”

His lips crash into yours and you wonder if this is what drowning feels like, to have something in your lungs and your stomach and on your skin and dragging you into it; you wonder if the sea has ever felt this greedy.

Each swell of his pelvis is another wave, crests with no rhythm, an unpredictable high and low. Boats have been lost to less; perhaps they would have been saved if only they’d had his hands waiting to catch them. His, meanwhile, dig into your waist, holding you just under the surface.

Moans blend into each other, and he hits so deep inside you that a cough to dispel the water lodged inside would surely have his name in it, not that you’d ever want to; you want him in every part of you, seeping into the cracks and living there, forever. You inhale and inhale and inhale, until you can’t tell the difference between him and air, until he’s the thing keeping you alive.

The bed shakes, its cheap wood headboard bouncing against the chipping paint of your shitty hotel room, leaving behind damage that you’ll surely have to pay. But how lucky you are to be with a man who can afford to erase the marks he leaves behind.

“I-” he starts, but you already know what he’s about to say (he’s not that hard to read, after all - not when his entire body begins to shake, when his whines strain higher, when he lets his smile fall crooked).

“Don’t stop,” is all you have to say; not that he could, with the way your legs wrap around him; not that he would, with the way you bloom and writhe and swell beneath him.

When he comes undone, it’s accompanied by the most beautiful sound, the most beautiful flush of his cheeks and arch of his back.

And yet, all he hears is you as you hold him, as you follow him under and kiss him through the brine, as you clench around his length and let him twitch and shake and tremble.

It takes a moment for him to still inside you (the sea is never quiet right after a storm). When he does, his eyes search for yours immediately. When they don’t find a smile, he begins to panic - Did he hurt you? Are you scared? Will you hate him? - but in an instant, they crinkle at the corners.

“Well,” you say, breathless.

“Well?” he mirrors, trying to hide the water that still rests in his chest.

“I have to be honest with you,” you hum pensively, letting the practiced control slip back into your voice, letting him worry for half a moment before you continue, “I can now say with confidence, you are exactly the same in private.”

His face stalls for a moment, and then he laughs, and you’ve found a new currency, one you’d happily be indebted in for the rest of your life. “So I take it you’d want to do this again sometime? In spite of the overkill?”

Your grin widens at the corners, uneven and shining. “I’d be a fool not to.”

[kithtaehyung]

holiday (3tan special) | myg

title: holiday  pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f)  series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk | friends | dalo | like that | anytime | sundress season | yoongi’s interlude | forfeit | flutter | video call | busted | broken (pt. 1) | broken (pt. 2) | lollipop rating/genre: pg (18+) ; fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au, holiday au summary: from what you can gather, holiday gift exchanges are supposed to be pretty straightforward. but this one quickly escalates. because no one can follow directions. note: this is all thanks to the person that suggested a 3tan crew secret santa! they don’t do actual secret santa, but they do host a gift exchange. so enjoy this speedily but still tenderly written holiday special! i wanted to get it posted asap so that we could all have it during the holiday season. hope it helps lifting spirits in any way<3  warnings: yoongi looks like sin, but reader does too🤭, kissing, no one follows directions, but especially jimin, hella kissing, no fr jimin is chaos incarnate, sibling holiday woes, tense situations, tender moments, gift exchanges, dialogue heavy i’m so sorry, also not too edited i'm sorry again sdfkljdskl. reader is adorable y'all i wanna cry, 3tan crew being wholesome af drop date: december 27th, 2024, 8:37pm est word count: 8.1k bc i love y’all???

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“Wait… I’m in this, too?” 

Your brother winces while checking his phone, probably also seeing the texts that Jimin sent to a freshly created group chat. “Tae and Chim roped us in this time. But it’s cool if you don’t wanna.” 

As you both don work attire in your foyer, you shake your head, one hand firm on your bag strap, “I don’t even know how they work.”

“I think we random draw names. Then just give a gift to whoever we get.” 

Seeing the names and numbers in here, you’re already running through a lot of possibilities. Maybe too many possibilities. But you don’t wanna make things more complicated or awkward, so you quickly concede, “I mean.. I’m down if you are.”

“I guess it’s cool.”

Head lowered, you notice that your brother’s shoes are the ones you gave him for his birthday a couple years ago. Because those days are the only ones you both celebrate every passing run of three hundred and sixty-five. “At least we’re doing something this year.” 

He chuckles to his feet. “Two years in a row.” 

Your sad laugh tumbles and rolls next to his. “Wild.” 

“Hey.” When he pauses, it’s to wait for you to look up. “If you ever wanna talk about it, we can.” 

There are a lot of times in which you dismiss your brother. Because it’s just what siblings do. 

This time is not one of them. 

“Same,” you offer, the weight of the world dragging your smile down. 

He gives you a hug, and you feel the luxury press of his suit as you lean in with scrunched brows. 

Two years in a row. 

Maybe things do suck less with time. 

When you both head out the door to your cars, you wonder if your brother knows how much you appreciate him and his friends for including you in things. Even if you don’t show it as much as you need to. 

Guess this time of year is a good place to start. 

Work drags in the wake of oncoming holiday. 

But you’re learning to appreciate the decorations around the office, including the little cards that coworkers have given you at your desk—despite your many protests that they didn’t have to. 

When you look up, you start to notice other things. Like the way people smile just a little more. Or the way peppermint and cider waft around the building, smelling of sweet instead of spice. 

You wonder if Jungkook has decorated the studio, too. Or if he recruited everyone else to help with decorations, which means that Yoongi and the guys had to fuss with lights and whatever else people spend money on.  

Laughing to your many stacks of papers and documents, you start daydreaming of what it would be like to decorate the house.

Would you and your brother do it someday? You do admit that it’s kinda nice to look around the neighborhood. And when you went into the mountains last year, you concede that the surrounding town decor was pretty inviting. 

Maybe your house would be a little brighter on the inside too if you both just…

You get a notification on your phone. When the screen brightens, you see that it’s for the app that shuffles you all for the gift exchange. 

You have no fucking clue what you’re doing.

But here goes.

Opening and hoping you get someone that’s easy to please, you stare at your device and blink a few very hard times. 

And after every time, you still get a name that has your heart quickening faster than reindeer working overtime. It’s reindeer, right? You think that’s cor—

“You okay?” 

Snapping your head up, you notice that one of your coworkers stopped mid-stride to check on you. Staring at his candy cane tie, you try not to be distracted as you slightly cringe, 

“What do I get a guy for the holidays?”

“Friend or lover?” 

Well, that was not what you expected to hear! 

When your jaw unhinges, you’re quick to snap it back into place. “Umm.” 

“Oh, this is juicy,” he perks up, quickly settling into a nearby chair and resting a strong chin in his hand. “Tell me more, I got time.” 

Laughing, you shake your head while pretending to type on your computer. “Nothing to tell.” 

“That means you got a whole lot.” His eyes are way too shiny right now! “But alright, I’m gonna assume both. In which case, I suggest something nice.” 

“Something nice?” 

“You know, like. Nice nice.” 

“It’s for a gift exchange, though,” you slump, hands stopping on the keys. Looking at his whole holiday ensemble, you divulge, “The money limit’s definitely not enough for nice nice.” 

“Then fuck the limit?” 

Your answer is more of a sound than a word. 

But he does get you to consider, even if just for a little bit. “Maybe…” 

“Fuck the limit,” he advises again. “He’s gonna dig that. Especially since everyone will see it.”

Your face falls from the snowy sky. “Everyone?” 

“Uhh, yeah? You said gift exchange, right? Everyone sees what everyone gets.” 

“Oh. Right,” you pretend to agree to your computer. Because no, you actually didn’t know that. “Guess it’s been awhile.” 

“Well, that’s what makes it fun! Good luck.”  

While you would normally agree, you have a whole hoard of conflicting feelings. Because while seeing Yoongi’s name on your screen is enough to get you giddy as hell, you know there’s a couple people that may not share the same sentiments. Especially if you gift him something nice nice. 

In front of everybody.

However… 

As your striped and jingling coworker strides away with a hum, you drum your fingers on your minimally decorated desk. 

Maybe there is a way you can finess this. 

After a few weeks, the day has come for not just one exchange, but two—your friends also decided to have your own. Because it’s the easiest format, you convinced them with logic, seeing their shock at you being the one to suggest the exchange in the first place. 

When they asked if you were sure, you assured them that it was okay. And the way they all brightened told you that you made a sound decision. Even if they still seemed hesitant, you know it’s because… 

You’ve never done this. 

So as you observe everyone in your bare living room, you start to see how their presence alone illuminates the space, with gifts in shine and glitter painting the area in holiday colors. 

This is nice. 

“So… Uhh.” You clear your throat, watching everyone look at you at the head of your coffee table. “How do we do this?” 

They all laugh before Taehyung explains, “So one of us goes first and says who we got before giving the gift—you can sit, you know.” 

In the midst of more teasing, you settle onto the floor while exclaiming, “I’m nervous, okay! This is really new to me.” 

“You have a gift to give, right?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Then you’re already doing great,” Reia assures, and you’re even more excited to give yours away. Because you drew her name. 

But before you can say that, Taehyung continues, “So after someone gets their gift, they announce who they picked, and so on.” 

“Pretty straightforward,” you observe. “I wanna go first!” 

Dom cackles, “You just wanna get it out of the way.” 

“And?” you question, grinning when you shoot up and grab your very amateurishly wrapped bag. “Okay, okay, I got…”

“This is adorable,” Yuri cuts in, and everyone’s agreement makes you suddenly shy. 

“No! Don’t make fun.” 

“We aren’t!” Taehyung reaches out to rub your leg. “Promise. Who’d you get?” 

“I got… Reia!” You exclaim, raising your bag a bit as she yells with everyone. The sudden raise of noise gets you a little shocked, but hyped nonetheless. And maybe a bit nervous that your gift won’t live up to the excitement. “Sorry about the wrapping job.” 

“What are you talking about, this is so good,” Reia soothes, smiling wide as she delicately takes out the folded paper. “Wow, the wrapping is nice?” 

Dom chimes in as she leans in, “Yeah, this is too good. Did you watch videos?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Everyone laughs again as you keep your nose held high. Because sucky or not, you were not gonna half-ass your first ever gift exchange. With seasoned people, at that. No way. 

When Reia opens the gift you carefully picked while perusing through a local music store, you watch with the anticipation of a small child, eyes wide and waiting. Hoping that the best outcome is the real outcome. 

And when she quietly yells behind her hand, everyone cheers while asking what she got. When she turns the package around, they cheer even more, because it’s a guitar pick set in her favorite colors. And one that you knew was so, very much her. 

She stands up immediately and opens her arms for a hug, and you blink before getting lovingly crushed. 

“Thank you,” she whispers in your ear. “This is more than great.” 

“Of course, babe,” you murmur back, feeling her jean jacket under your palms and a beating in your chest. “Thank you, too.” 

The rest of the exchange goes off without a hitch, with you cheering with everyone and understanding the cues more and more. Everyone’s gifts are wonderful, and Yuri’s the last to go out of the five of you. 

And she got your name. 

You figured giving the gift would be the hardest part. 

But somehow, this part is a lot harder. 

Braving it anyway—because there’s ironically no time like the present—you carefully unwrap the thin package and stare at what’s inside. 

It’s a photocard. But the picture is of the five of you, one that Taehyung took with his long ass arms while the four of you huddled behind him with drinks in hand. Around its edges are stickers, hearts and stars and cute little animals. 

And it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever seen. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until Yuri rushes over to ask if you don’t like it. 

“This is the best thing ever,” you choke out, and she smiles before laughing and tearing up, too. “I love us.” 

“We’re the best, duh.” 

“Got that right,” Dom adds to the air while Reia and Taehyung start cleaning up the wrapping scraps. “You like your first gift exchange?”

“I should’ve joined y’all sooner.” 

“Joined us?” Taehyung looks up from the ground. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh. I figured you guys do this every year.” 

Tae looks at Yuri, who then looks at you again before very seriously admitting, “We’ve never done this, either. Not with each other.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” She taps the back of your now most precious, most coveted photocard ever. “We didn’t even think about it since you wouldn’t be there.” 

Smiling at your prized possession, you vow, 

“I’ll be here now.” 

Regarding all of them, you start to decorate your place in your mind. Seeing where all the lights go. Where all the little trinkets hang, or whatever. You don’t quite know how this goes just yet, but you do know there’s trees involved. So that’s gonna be figured out in a year’s time. 

“I’m not missing this again.” 

With bellies full of laughter and a little bit of cider, you and your friends head over to Jimin’s cul-de-sac. 

Dom took the wheel this time, so you get to stare out the passenger side window, eyes reflecting golds and colors as you take in the surrounding lights. 

Were they always this pretty? You don’t remember being so taken by electricity and staggering electric bills, especially the houses that go all out and cover every nook of their yard in lights. 

But it’s a spectacle on every corner and street, and Jimin’s little half circle of houses keeps the holiday illumination alive. 

“Uhh, I think we can park down there,” you point, noticing there’s some space a little bit beyond the street. It’s alarmingly next to where Yoongi had to park once, and you cherish that memory with stars in your eyes. 

“Everyone have their gifts?” 

“Tae, if anyone lost theirs on the way here, we have other issues.” 

It’s a quick walk to Jimin’s, and the music around the house gets louder as you approach his entrance. There are people already set up in his open garage playing what you assume are card games, and everyone greets your group as you pop in to say hi. 

“Hey!” Namjoon calls. “Y’all are late! Everyone’s inside.” 

“We had our own party first,” you call out, struggling with your gift bags and food tray. “Can someone—”

Before you finish your ask, you smell nice cologne and feel a big presence at your side. 

When you look to see who’s assisting, you slow in your motions before uttering a small,

“Thank you.” 

Jungkook slightly smiles as he grabs your last bag. “Your perfume’s nice,” he compliments behind tousled bangs. Which makes you blink because that comment is more than hard to come by from him. 

So you can only grin. “Just got it,” you explain as you follow your friends inside the house. “It’s a dupe, can you believe it?” 

“Damn! It’s a good one.” 

“I know,” you agree, very proud of your find. Taking the gift bags from his hands, you tilt your head. “Can you bring the tray to the kitchen?” 

“On it.” 

When you make your way to your friends at the front area, they all eye you with concern. But you wave it off and shrug off your coat to hang on the loan coat hanger—earning teasing and whistles.   

“Shut up,” you groan, laughing with everyone before straightening the reason for the noises. It’s a dress you’ve been eyeing specifically for holiday parties. Because as soon as you started to shop for your gift exchanges, that quickly spiraled into shopping for outfits to wear to them. Did your coworker spook you into looking good because it was a public event? Maybe. Absolutely. 

So you shopped around before finding a dress that even you knew you looked good in. And the past couple weeks were the longest stretches ever because of your anticipation to wear it again. 

As you and your newest fit walk into the kitchen, you start to greet everyone, giving them hugs and smiling bright at their compliments. Because you feel good. You feel nice. Maybe you’re just drinking the holiday cheer and letting it consume you but you don’t care because it’s fun this time. This isn’t like any other year, and it’s wonderful. 

But then. 

Even the most wonderful moments have to come to a halt. 

And yours crash when you see Yoongi. 

Leaned back on one of the kitchen counters, his body appears relaxed in another damn black button-up, telltale silver chain hanging from a neck you wanna devour in front of the whole house. 

He was already annoying last year. But this time, his hair’s longer, and made up with just the right amount of disarray and a little bit even tucked behind his ear.

Fuck, this is so much worse! 

If he wasn’t so attractive and magnetizing, you’d have way less than ninety-nine problems. It would be a lot closer to zero. 

But you make your way over to him anyway, because of course you would. Of course he knew you would, too. 

“Hi,” you greet him, hands tingling with the desire to cup his beautiful chin and yank him in for a kiss. 

But he greets you back while giving you a hug, not without giving you a very obvious once-over. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers in your ear before pulling away, which can only make you babble out, 

“What?” 

He grins wide. “You look nice.” 

Oh. Oh, he really did say that. Why are you surprised? Why are you always surprised? But you have to stay poised so you stick with a neutral, 

“So do you.” 

“Thanks,” he says with a sly curve, still leaning back on the counter with a drink in hand. “Say something else.” 

“Goodbye forever,” is what you go with, back heating with his staccato laughs following your speedy retreat. 

No, no, no. He cannot notice how excited you are to give him his gift. Your bubbling excitement needs to be projected elsewhere. Because you know you picked perfect. It’s something you know he’d appreciate. 

But he cannot have his ego inflated anymore or else the house would float to the sky. 

But fucking hell, he looks damn good and he knows it. 

After an hour or so of socializing and keeping to your little friend circle, Jimin gets everyone together in the big living room to do the exchange. 

“Okay! One, two… Okay, we’re all here, so. Who’s gonna start?” 

When someone calls his name, the man grins and shakes his head. “Nah, I’m host.” 

“So shouldn’t you be the one to start?” 

“My house, my rules!” Jimin argues with zest, pointing to the guy that dared to challenge him, “So you go first.” 

And that man just so happens to secretly be yours. 

Shouts erupt around the living room, and you can mostly hear Hoseok and Seokjin since they’re closest,

“Go, Yoong!” 

“Ah, Yoongi’s first for a change.” 

Secretly and not so secretly, you’re hoping and wishing that he pulled your name. But the odds of that would be pretty slim if you pulled him, even though it was an even chance across the board. 

But as he gets up from the arm of Jimin’s couch holding a small gift bag, you determine that maybe it’s best if he didn’t pull your name. Because you already had trouble opening Yuri’s gift. How the hell would you control yourself opening his? 

“K, uhh. I got…” 

Wait, he’s looking towards you from across the room.

Shit. Is it happening?

You? 

“Taehyung.” 

A pang of disappointment and relief shoots through your veins, even when you shout with everyone while watching Tae smile from his place right next to you.

Yoongi walks right up to your seats, which are really some extra fold-out chairs by Jimin’s decorated tree. And he smells so good. Why do you have to be close to him again? 

But this moment is about Taehyung, so you watch as he opens the gift. When there’s a small box inside the bag, he opens that to reveal a nice, slim… wallet? 

Wait, is that leather? 

Your mouth drops as everyone’s up and raising questions already, and you can clearly hear Jungkook and your brother protest the highest,  

“Wait, huh?” 

“We set a limit for a reason!” 

Yoongi’s hands stay in his pockets when he refutes, “It was on sale.” 

“Nah, he’s lying!” 

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say, so when he looks at you, it takes all your strength to encourage him neutrally, 

“It’s so you! Deserved.” 

Yoongi looks at you before asking your friend, “Is it okay?” 

“It’s perfect,” Taehyung says, full of gratefulness. “I’m just shocked.” 

Jimin and Shiv chuckle from one of the couches, 

“Oh? He’s never shocked.” 

“This is new.” 

Yoongi smiles as Tae gets up to hug him, and you’re immediately okay not being the one receiving anything right now. 

Because you don’t need anything from him. 

All you want is his happiness. 

Once the initial gift is given, everyone goes down the line. And you’re feeling a little lighter after knowing who Yoongi got. Also, you feel less and less awkward about your gift, since the chaos of Yoongi’s was only the beginning.

Because when Taehyung gifts your brother a chain, everyone’s up and yelling again while your sibling is shocked to hell. 

On one end of the living room, Namjoon shakes his grinning head while Jungkook throws his back, 

“Alright, there needs to be a penalty for the most expensive gift.” 

“We obviously didn’t give a shit about the limit.” 

Everyone’s laughter fills the house, even drowning out the faint holiday music floating from the surround speakers. 

Immediately clipping on his necklace, your brother shouts, “Am I the only one that stuck to what we agreed on?” 

“Sucks for who got yours then.” 

Everyone starts laughing or reprimanding Yoongi for saying that—you with a cackle included. 

But then your brother busts out a fucking watch for Shiv and everyone goes bananas. 

At this point, Taehyung’s fully laughing behind his fingers on his forehead, and Jimin collapses on a gawking Yoongi when Shiv quite literally jumps up. 

“What the hell? Dude, I can’t take this.” 

“Yes, you can! And you will.” 

Fingers are pointing in every direction while people are calling each other liars, and your brother laughs on like a gremlin.

But it’s all so adorable that your heart is squeezing. Shiv’s damn near tearing up. “I’ve been eyeing this one for forever.” 

“I know! You wouldn’t stop running your damn mouth about that thing.” Your older sibling claps him on the shoulder. “You can shut up now,” he says with a grin, and Shiv gives him a big hug. 

“Thanks, man.” 

“Don’t sweat it.” 

Shiv’s turn. And everyone is waiting for what he decided to gift. 

Turns out he keeps the shenanigans going by gifting Jungkook a luxury tie set.

The blond’s jaw drops as he stares hard at the package. Looking up quick, he has to ask for sure, “A set, dude?” 

“It was on sale!” 

“Again?”

“Are we all gonna say the same lie?” 

Everyone can’t hide their amusement, with creased eyes and fake annoyance in every seat. Jungkook can’t believe his luck, since he’s been telling himself to get dress clothes forever but hasn’t gotten around to it.

“You gotta dress like a man now, kid,” Shiv tells him with a bright smile. “There’s a lot coming now that you’re making it.”

A light bulb softly glows when you realize that Yoongi might need to do the same. Trying not to look obvious, you peek in his direction. 

As he stares at the floor, you already know he’s mulling over the same thoughts. 

But it’s Jungkook’s turn now, and you still haven’t gotten a gift yet. 

So you’re waiting with all the air in your lungs. 

As the blond teases his pick, the studio boys are quick to handle him as Yoongi only huffs.

“I got… I got… I got, I got, I got, I got—”

“Kook, just say it.”

“Always like this.”

“Jimin!”

Your heart beats again as the host pops up from his couch, everyone cheering as Kook meets him in the center. Around you, speculation from your friends mixed with a little laughter spikes,

“He probably stuck to the limit.”

“Definitely.”

“Jimin’s gonna be the only one left with—”

Cackles and screams rip as Jimin kicks his head back in laughter, because in his hands is a sleek white box that everyone recognizes. 

This man got Jimin designer shades.

Your cheeks hurt as you react with everyone, giddy and bubbly with how absolutely ridiculous this whole night has gone. Everyone accusing each other of cheating, while all the while every single gift has been over the top.

You really don’t feel bad about revealing your gift anymore. Quite honestly, you almost feel more bad about it not being enough.

No. It’s enough.

Yours is the best and you stick to that.  

Jimin takes the sunglasses out of the box and protective pouch, slipping them on and modeling immediately.  

Oh’s and ah’s echo before his friends inflate his ego,

“Damn, you sure you aren’t a model?” 

“You’re one step away.” 

“He really is.” 

He looks great and he knows it. And he carefully puts them back in their packaging before giving Jungkook a hug. They exchange conversation, and you can feel the latter’s smile as he laughs before sitting down. 

Suddenly, you have the strongest intuition that you’re next. On Jimin’s turn. He’s getting out a very nice bag from behind a couch and your brain is firing off. 

“Okay! The best gift is going to…”

You were right. He calls your name.

Smiling, you shakily stand as Jimin approaches, a twinkling look in those features glowing in incandescent lights. 

Eyes on you. Many eyes. 

A little overwhelmed, you thank him before sitting down. Because it’s much easier to do this while on a solid, structured surface. 

“Hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

Best gift? What could Jimin possibly mean by—

Your scream shoots out as you clamp the bag shut because no fucking way you saw what you just saw in there. 

Jimin’s laughing his ass off but it’s not funny. 

“Jimin, what the fuck!” Now you know how Shiv felt and he is absolutely valid for his reaction. “I can’t accept this.” 

People are concerned around you, and you quickly think they may have the wrong idea.

“What did he get?” 

“What’s in there?”

Quelling some thoughts, you explain, “It’s a box.” 

“Okay?” 

You just gotta say it. They’re all gonna know as soon as you take it out anyway. So you breathe out,

“…It’s Dior.” 

It’s the loudest it’s been all night, even though your friends are completely speechless. All the guys are up in arms and Jia’s scream for penalty can be heard through the chaos,

“What!” 

“Where’s my Dior?” 

“What the fuck?” 

“Jimin…” 

“Okay, that is way over limit! That’s cheating!” 

“Penalty!” 

Jimin’s sneaky smile as he turns around doesn’t help, “You know I get everything for less.” 

“So?”

“Still, what the hell, man!”

You know Jimin works there. You do. But this is still making your limbs jelly and you can’t even speak. 

There’s no way Dior is passed around at every gift exchange. 

“You deserve it. For dealing with him.” He looks at your brother, but the look in his eyes is too sparkly to be completely truthful. Does he mean Yoongi? Or is he being serious? 

Of course, your sibling throws out a droning, “Wow.” 

After lots of shaky unboxing, you reveal a stunning bracelet, your friends bending down around you to gawk at how brilliant it is. Dancing in your fingers, this piece shimmers and gleams, and every single person is quiet. 

Guilt. You feel guilt. 

And you can’t even look at the reason why.

“Whatever you’re feeling, don’t. It’s okay.” 

You’re tearing up because it’s way too nice. Which proves worse because you also feel bad for crying for the sole fact that Yoongi’s watching. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea. 

You get up to hug him. “I… This is really nice, Jimin. Thank you.” 

“Stop by the store sometime,” he offers with a smile. “Maybe I can slip more in your purse.” 

“Easy,” your brother eyes him. 

“So are we all getting fancy gifts or what?” 

“Nope! Ran out of my discount, sorry.” 

“Wow.” 

When you finally glance around, everyone’s either a mix of shock and awe, visibly confused, or just jealous and wondering what the hell just happened. 

Meanwhile. 

Yoongi straight up looks like he’s holding his tongue. 

And you suddenly feel really bad. 

Hopefully giving him his gift will make up for what just happened. Even though you’re going after the hardest hitter of the damn night, this one’s special. 

But who are you kidding? People are definitely gonna talk in private about Jimin’s little gift. 

So now you have to try and mend this while acting like Yoongi’s just your brother’s friend. Cool. Awesome. 

“So...”

Just try your goddamned best. 

“Yoongi is mine.”

…Wait.

Your secret looks your way immediately while everyone snaps their heads to him.

What the fuck did you say?

Wait wait wait wait what did you fucking say?

Flapping your arms, you reach for words while everyone starts teasing, “Oh, god. I mean—I have Yoongi—I mean, wow. Hold on.”

Fucking fuck fuck, he’s grinning.

Thank the lord above for someone cheekily asking,

“First time at a gift exchange?”

You look away from the laughs while trying to compose your grin of embarrassment. Get it the fuck together, this is peak time to get it right.

“God. Okay.” You look down at your bag. All of its carefully folded and primped paper, the delicate folding inside. “For the gift exchange,” you clarify with a forced firm tone, “I got Yoongi.” 

You feel Dom try her damned best to hide her laugh. And you know for damn sure Jimin and Taehyung are thoroughly amused right now. 

All the oh’s sounding off in the living room are already enough to set your ears smoking. Your brother’s voice can be heard, but you know that’s for a specific reason. 

Everything had to be carefully calculated, after all. 

You walk up to him, and you cannot—absolutely cannot—look too long at the way he’s looking up at you. Him sitting in any capacity is enough to drive you up a wall, but now? When he looks so freshly fitted and prepping to tease you about all this later? You can barely think straight. 

“I don’t think I can beat Jimin’s gift,” you sigh to his curious eyes. “But it’s a little too late to change.”

His smile turns so soft. He shouldn’t be the one comforting you right now when you probably broke a little of his heart. “It’s all good.”

Keep going. 

Cleaning your clogged throat, you brave the crowd and breathe before starting again, “Anyway. This is kinda from both of us, but I picked it because I have better taste.”

“Hey, what the hell?” 

Ignoring your brother’s protest, you watch as Yoongi softly opens the gift before pulling out a basketball jersey. 

Of his favorite player. 

“Holy shit.” 

Shouts start erupting behind your back as you laugh, your sneaky gift joining the rest of them. 

“Hello? That’s way too much!” 

“That’s over the limit for sure.” 

You wave your hands frantically among their teasing arguments, and your brother chimes in on your side. “I didn’t know what to get!” 

“So you got a real jersey?” 

“Relax, y’all. It’s from both of us.” 

“Wait, which one’s Lillard again?” 

“Damian,” Yoongi softly says in awe. “How’d you know?” 

You can only blink, smiling faltering by the slightest amount.

Fuck, he’s gonna be cheeky right now? Knowing you know and exactly how you know? Cuddled up with him in his bed as he shows you highlight reels and tells you the guy’s whole story and that he happens to be a rapper, too? 

Looking back towards your brother, you explain, “Well... He gave me a list. And I just picked off vibes.” 

Yoongi’s eyes sparkle so much when he grins. “Good choice,” he compliments with creased eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” You say back with a little too high of a pitch. “But tell him he still owes you a gift. This doesn’t count for him.” 

“Uhh, it sure as fuck does!” 

Yoongi breaks eye contact to shout behind you, “Didn’t you already tell me you got me something?” 

“Yeah, it was that!” 

“What a lie,” Yoongi says through a smile.

“Yeah, I did,” your brother surrenders. “The shoes are in my bag. Okay, next!” 

Hilariously, two pairs of people end up getting each other. Yuri’s older sister Jia got Seokjin, who also drew her name—to the slight angst of your brother, you imagine. 

And Hoseok ends up getting Namjoon. Which turns out being twice as funny because they both got each other the same pair of earphones. You can’t breathe with how hard you cackle with everyone, and your heart skips when you catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s eyes across the room.

By the end of the exchange, everyone’s bellies and cheeks sting from laughter, and every eye in sight has twinkles embedded inside.

Throughout the night, everyone starts branching off into different groups. You and your friends talk in the kitchen, and both in and out of the house, there’s groups of games and conversations. 

The holiday decorations everywhere shine bright. Enveloped in the music, you keep looking at the lights, feeling happy but a little bittersweet. 

You really wanna set the record straight with Yoongi. You had no damn clue that Jimin was gonna give something like that, much less in front of everyone. 

The fact that you haven’t been in the same room for a bit makes it worse. What could he be thinking right now? You can’t tell because he’s nowhere in sight. 

Screw it. You’re gonna at least text him. There’s no way you can survive the night if you’re gonna plague your own head without checking in with him. 

Fishing out your phone, you sidestep away for a second to type something quick. 

You [10:38pm]: i know it’s not dior.. but hope you like your gift :’)) 

Yoongi [10:38pm]: You know I do. It’s perfect, doll. 

Well. He texted back super quick.

Maybe he’s really okay? Maybe he and Jimin already talked it through? 

Then again.. Yoongi didn’t look happy at all during the big reveal. To the point where he was actively showing emotions you rarely get to see.

But if he says he likes his gift, that’s a good sign. 

You [10:42pm]: i can’t believe jimin did that

Yoongi [10:42pm]: That was bold. 

You [10:42pm]: seriously!!! 

Hmm. So he didn’t know. That’s even more surprising than him knowing, now that you think about it. 

You’re called over to get another round of food, and you turn down the initial invite but stay around as they get more to eat. 

When you see a tray that smells way too good, you do break and get a piece anyways. 

“Yeah, those are amazing,” Yuri chirps. “Shiv made those.”

“Really?” Dom grabs a couple pieces. “Lemme try these then.”

“You’re gonna want more.” 

As you find a place outside to eat, you stand next to the heater while conversing with Taehyung. It’s adorable how you can tell how excited he is about his gift, turning it in his hand before pocketing the leather again. 

“It’s so nice,” you compliment. 

“He knows how to pick, I guess,” Tae smiles, looking at you and making you shy. Because hello? There’s no way he’s gonna be bringing that up tonight. 

When you silently mouth for him to shut up, he grins like a madman. Glancing down at your hands, he suddenly asks, “Are you gonna put that down?”

“No,” you say with a tiny pang of guilt. “Afraid not.”

“Mm.” 

Your phone buzzes again, and you’re thankful for the interruption.

Yoongi [11:09pm]: Guess I have to do better😔

Instantly, you take that gratefulness back.

You [11:09pm]: NO!! you don’t have to worry about me at all

Yoongi [11:10pm]: I can’t lose to you

You [11:10pm]: trust me, i just… 

You think about sending the other text or not. But you do anyway. 

Taehyung sees the look in your faraway face, but doesn’t comment as you peer down again. 

You [11:11pm]: i just wanna see you happy

That’s all you want. If he’s happy, you’re happy. So it sucks to have part of the night come as quite the shock. 

Interestingly enough, though.. Someone else in the house should also be pretty upset about your gift, and you haven’t seen Jimin cornered by him yet. 

Unless your brother is just deciding to be courteous and beat his ass after everyone leaves. 

Yoongi [11:13pm]: Then come over here

You’re not gonna argue with that. 

So when your friends finish their plates, you suggest you all head into the garage. It’s already rowdy before you open the door, so the sounds get booming loud when you all enter. 

Looks like everyone is blowing their money on other things tonight, too. The gifts were the nice part of the party; now everyone is fiending to take everyone’s cash.

“Damn, Yoongi’s clearing me out.”

“Told you not to go all in.”

“He did.”

As the cold weather rolls in, you watch as the games go on, with heaters humming with energy and your brother’s friends radiating competition. 

No wonder Yoongi wanted you in here.

He’s on a damn roll.

As everyone groans after another win, Namjoon and your brother are in tatters, 

“Yoong, what the fuck!”

“You hiding cards in those sleeves?”

“I told you!” Yoongi boasts, “Don’t get too cocky.”

“Says him.”

“Cocky, my ass.” 

When you laugh, you earn a tiny glimpse of his eyes. But as his vision falls to your hands, you’re quick to look away, out into the night to look at all the lights instead.

Shit.

After some time passes, you find yourself alone on a balcony. Yet again. Cold wind blows through your coat, chilling you but making you feel alive. Too alive in this moment. Too aware.

The holidays aren’t so bad this time around. But you do need to set this one thing straight before things go a little sideways with Yoongi. 

If he’s upset, you don’t want him to be. Even if he doesn’t say it, you want him to know you’re considering his feelings. There’s some things you just can’t control.

So you wait for Jimin, telling him earlier to meet you up here for the best chance at privacy.

When you hear the door opening, you see him come through, hair lifting in the breeze and his lips in a slight curve. 

Get right to it. “Jimin, I—”

“Isn’t it so nice tonight?” 

Stopping, you settle into a smile, watching him walk up to stand next to you before you both look into the night. The neighborhood glows beneath your feet, and everyone in the backyard mingles while puffs of air leave their lips. 

“It really is,” you say with a smile, clutching the gift bag in cold fingers. Because you haven’t let go of it ever since it was given to you—it’s way too expensive. You’ve been guarding it all night. 

Which is why you need to hand it back to the one who gave it to you. “We haven’t done something like this before, so.. It’s a nice change of pace.” 

Jimin turns before realizing something. “Oh. I meant the weather.” 

Embarrassed, you let out a laugh while his eyes crease. “Ah. That, too.” 

“Got deep real fast.” 

“Jimin!” 

Both of you puff out laughter as you look down, just in time to see someone gazing right up at you. Someone that makes your heart squeeze on sight. 

Oh, shit. Is he gonna get the wrong idea again? 

You need to do this quick. Yoongi can’t be let down more than once tonight. 

Sighing, you start to hold up the bag again. “Thank you—”

“He’s lucky you came around when you did.” 

“Huh?” 

Jimin leans on the railing before eyeing you with a smile. “You don’t even know, do you.” 

“I don’t…” When you look below, Yoongi’s not looking anymore. And you panic. “Jimin, thank you. But I seriously can’t take this.” 

Why does he look so calm? Why does he keep acting like this isn’t a big deal? “You can.” 

“No, really. I—” 

“I may have gone too far this time.” 

Your eyes still as you breathe out a confused, “...What?” 

Jimin’s face is dusted with peach in the cold, and you get a good view of his jawline as he peers down below with a regretful curve. “I kinda tricked him,” he admits. “Into picking your gift for the exchange.” 

The shock you feel prevents you from even blinking. How the hell can this get even more overwhelming? “What do you mean?” 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I got some good discounts.” Jimin turns around to lean against the railing. “So I thought it would be fun to rope him into getting you something.” 

When he laughs to the chilly night sky, you don’t join him—the shock is preventing you from doing anything. 

“Didn’t think he’d pick a whole bracelet, though. Made for one hell of a gift exchange pick.” He looks at you at a tilt. “You like it, right?” 

Even if Yoongi was the one to pick out the jewelry, Jimin still had to purchase the damn thing. And even with his discount, it’s still expensive as hell. It has to be. You haven’t let go of the bag once because you don’t want to lose it. “But you still had to pay,” you blurt out. “I’ll find a way to pay you back if you aren’t gonna take it.”

“I didn’t pay for it, either.” 

Your heart stops. 

Full on halts. 

When he turns his head, he looks toward the sky in thought. “Well, I did secretly pay the exchange limit. But..” He straightens before staring back at your absolute silence, dropping the biggest surprise of the whole night,

“Yoongi paid the difference.”

The sudden sob that leaves your throat startles him immediately, and he rushes forward to put hands on your shoulders. “Hey, hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—”

The sound of a door slides open, and you turn to see your favorite, favorite, favorite person walking through. You must look like a wreck but you don’t care, don’t care, don’t care. 

“I’ll leave you both to it then,” Jimin says to your watery eyes before squeezing, heading out to give you both the quiet space you need. 

But Yoongi clutches his arm as he walks by, and you hold your breath as he stares him in the eye, voice burning with a steady glow,

“Don’t pull that shit again.” 

“I know,” Jimin agrees without pause. “I owe you one.” 

“No one comes up here then.” Yoongi releases him slow. “Until I come back down.” 

The host of the night shares a quick hand clutch before assuring, “You got it.” 

Bag clutched tight in your hands, you watch in wonder as Yoongi approaches you with a quiet determination. His presence alone makes your heart beat warm and soft, but you cannot stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. 

All you can ask as he gets close is a wondrous, “Why..?”

“He’s a very persuasive salesman.” When you wipe your eyes, he helps with a little look of tenderness. Though there’s still some frustration evident in his features. “But I didn’t know it would be for tonight.”

“Oh, shit,” you sigh. “Why did he do that?” 

“I’m not sure.” Yoongi holds your chin, rubbing your frosty cheek with a handworking thumb. “Taehyung didn’t know he’d do it, either.” 

“Tae knew, too?” 

“Yeah. He thought I had it, not Chim.” He sighs to the side, hair lifting slightly in the breeze. “I almost stood up when you screamed.” 

Your heart shrugs off some chill. “Really?” 

Yoongi nods before looking up with scrunched brows. “It took all of me to keep my ass down. Honestly, I’m still pissed the fuck off.” 

You believe that. One hundred percent, you believe that. Because you’ve never seen him talk to Jimin like that before tonight. 

Reaching to cradle one of his cheeks, you feel how cold he is before whispering to soothe, “Tell me how you wanted it to go.” 

When Yoongi looks at you, your lips curve into a small smile. Peppered with a bit of your tears and willingness to make him feel better. 

He softly grips your hand on his face before turning to kiss your fingers. Voice low, he reveals, “I was gonna take you straight to dinner. After you got off work one day.” Another set of kisses makes your fingers both hot and cold. “Then I would’ve faked needing something from the studio. And you would’ve gotten it there.” 

“Oh…” You blink as your vision blurs. “That’s…” 

“Among other things.” 

At his suggestive look, you playfully pat his jacket. But your heart starts leaking from your eyes.  

Because you just want it all to be out already. Just everything. Everything, everything, everything, you’re so tired of keeping it under wraps. 

“What’s wrong, doll.”

“Nothing,” you sob. “I’m just… I didn’t know, and… This is a lot.” 

You’re overflowing with emotions. From all the experiences you’ve had tonight to this very moment, everything has been wonderful and magical and there’s nothing quite like this feeling. But you’re also so embarrassed because he definitely brought out much bigger guns than you did. 

Sniffling into his jacket, you whisper, “Thank you… You got me something timeless. This is so much cooler than my gift.” 

“No! Yours is great, are you kidding me?” 

“It’s a jersey… That’s much less cool.” 

“Mm... You also called me yours.” When you freeze completely, Yoongi's shoulders bob with his pride. “Gotta say, that was the highlight of the night."

“Oh, shut up!" When you groan into his clothes, you feel him laughing through his chest. And it's one of your favorite feelings in the world.

Shoulders slumped, you heavily yearn,

“I want it all out now. Everything.” You squeeze him closer. Closer, closer, closer. “I want everyone to know it was from you.” 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, though you do feel his heart beat a little faster. When he finally answers, you close your eyes. “I know I said this last time, but.. Next year. For sure.” 

“Can we decorate, too?” 

Yoongi looks into your starry eyes. “You wanna?” When your nod is quick, he laughs. “Guess I don’t have a real choice then, huh?” 

“Nu uh.” You squeal as he hauls you into a full kiss, squeezing you in his arms and more tears out of your eyes. “Wait!” 

When he tilts his head, you grin at his adorable quirk. “Let’s do it anyway.” 

“Huh?”

Holding up the bag, you cheekily suggest, “Everything you said. Let’s do it.” Biting your lip and feeling the chill on your ears, you finish, “There’s a new place I wanna try with you anyways.” 

Yoongi just stares, smile unsure but huffing amusement from his nose. “You sure?” 

“Duh! And I’ll act even more surprised, just for you.” 

Your giggling is purely born from excitement. Because you can’t wait to take him somewhere you know he’ll enjoy, too. And you get to see the studio? It’s gonna be a fantastic—

You’re brought into a tight hug before your thoughts finish. The bag between you crumples a tad, but you’re more focused on the way your head is moved for a soul-tying kiss. 

Warmth and gold and sparkles burst from your chest as you’re completely taken by Yoongi’s lips, and you start to feel your house inside change. It’s festive. It’s decorated. It’s made just for you and him. 

You've never been one for this season. But getting to spend it with Yoongi two years in a row? It's becoming one of your favorite times of the year.

“I just…” he murmurs to your features before gripping you close. “Thanks, babe.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper into his handsome features. “Once you give it to me for real, I’m gonna wear it everywhere.” 

“Please do. Get my money’s worth.” 

When you both laugh, your affection leaves in puffs of white. And you give him a more tender kiss than the first. 

You feel so at home it hurts. But it hurts because your heart is so full you can’t fit it all. All the love for everyone that fills that hole in your life that you and your brother have had for years. 

You’re gonna tell him one day. And it’s gonna rip you apart. 

But you hope everything will be okay. This time next year, all of you will be okay. More than okay. 

When you lean in close, you whisper something you’ve never really said to anyone. But you’re gonna try to start, even if you aren’t quite familiar with it yet. It’s a good year to start, start, start. 

“Happy holidays, Yoongi.”

His lips spread slow before giving one more kiss to your chilly nose. And every anxious feeling floats away in the frosty breeze.

“Happy holidays, doll.”

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fin. :)

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a/n: happy holidays, merry christmas, happy new year to everyone that celebrates! just wanted to get this one out for the ones needing a little bit of cheer around this time. we learn quite a bit about some of the crew's backstories and where they work now, huh. is this a pocket universe, too? who really knows! but it all flew out of my fingers as soon as we got the suggestion, so thank you again to that anon message! a/n 2: thank you to everyone that's stuck with me and 3tan this year. it's been a rough one, but i also wanted to post this one to let you all know i'm still here. 3tan will forever stay with me, and i have not ever forgotten it. not one day goes by where i don't think about it, or y'all, or them. trust me. also, stay on the lookout for some physical copy interest checks! we are getting closer and closer to 3tan copies being A Real Thing! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist  ⇥ three tangerines masterlist

[bingsoo-jung]

I’m going to toss on an extra addition with a shoutout to @casscainmainly ! So:

a) i was wrong, cass didn’t live in HK for a long time. I got it mixed up because it was a while IRL but IRL != comic book time. So my bad!

B) Part of the reason I specifically said Cantonese is bc of the HK thing, but also because up until very recently (IE past 15 or so years) the lingua franca of the American diaspora was Cantonese. So for a short history lesson, the Chinese American community can be split into 3 waves. duoyishu

1st was was in the 1800s, these were the railroad workers who set up the OG Chinatowns. Most of these people were Toishanese and spoke it as such. It means most of the oldest Chinese American families and communities speak Toishanese.

2nd wave was the longest, lasting from the 1920s until around 1980. Most people in this group speak Cantonese, if they don’t it’s actually far more likely that they’re Southeast Asian Chinese, meaning their families immigrated to the US after immigrating to Southeast Asia. So I’m Thai-Chinese, my family immigrated to Thailand from Teochew and then my popo immigrated to the US. We’re not Cantonese, we don’t speak Cantonese. We’re gaginang and speak Teochew.

3rd wave is from post 1980s, and features mainlanders (folks from China), and since most folks in China speak Cantonese or Mandarin, most of these immigrants do as well.

Because of this however, before recently, anyone growing up in Chinese American communities would’ve most likely spoke Cantonese. Mandarin wouldn’t have been super useful. Cass’s mom, Sandra Woosan/Lady Shiva, grew up in Detroit, meaning that she would’ve likely spoke Cantonese.

However! We do have an official hometown/ancestoral village in China for Lady Shiva, which provides us a way to actually determine what language she would definitely speak. As of 2021 it’s been explicitly stated now that her hometown was Duoyishu, a town in the Honghe Hani and Yi Autonomous Prefecture, Yunnan, China. Now, you may rightfully be looking at that and going “what does ‘Autonomous Prefecture’ mean?” Well, that refers to a region of China where either 50%+ of the population are ethnic minorities or it’s a historic home of an ethnic minority. Meaning Lady Shiva is from a region in China where most people aren’t Han Chinese. Actually, Yuanyuang county, which is where Duoyishu is, is only about 11% Han Chinese. And the village she’s from is known to be a Hani village. Are we beginning to see a problem here? Because, and here’s an important fun fact, most ethnic minorities in China don’t call themselves Chinese. Shiva wouldn’t be speaking Mandarin or Cantonese, she wouldn’t even be Chinese in this case, she’d probably be Hani, and speak Hani.

Which is creating a whole new confusing problem considering they keep putting her in ostensibly Han Chinese clothes. Like Mandarin collars and qipaos are Manchurian and Han Chinese clothes. They arose as a fusion of those cultures during Manchurian rule of China. I don’t know why a Hani person would go ‘yes, I’m going to wear clothes for a culture I’m not apart of despite my culture having much cooler clothes.’ Like… huh? Huh????? It also raises a new and very important question of ‘when will DC give Lady Shiva a backstory and name that sense?’

To which the answer is, obviously, never. Because they hate me specifically.

DC Comics, I’m begging you, have one Chinese person write Lady Shiva’s backstory and just… use that forever. Just only that. So that you don’t keep creating new messes.

You know a better Cassandra Cain headcanon than Cassandra Cain speaks ASL? Cassandra Cain speaks Mandarin or Cantonese mostly.

She canonically lives in HK for a long time.

limited phonemes make it easier to learn.

most chinese languages are near fucking grammarless. You want to say ‘i did that?’ You say ‘i did’ and toss in a 了 nearly anywhere in the sentence. There are 0 tenses, 0 genders, 0 conjugations. 90% of this language is a based on ‘does it sound right?’ And honestly if you get close enough people will understand you.

Hanzi is one of the few still used logograph language and by far the most popular. Nearly all others have died out. Thus meaning it’s one of the few languages which uses pictorial depictions to communicate concepts. That’s not a thing in any other extant writing system. I imagine this would be easier for someone who is used to communicating via body languages and sight based interpretations than sounds, because when you read chinese you don’t sound out the letters, you either recognize the character or you start to cry.

[americanwhores]

hello i’m here..

i would love if u wrote something about this. there is a very particular cruelty to reinforcing trauma and somehow making something already horrific worse cause it’s guided and patronising… & cause of that i need it really bad..

HELLO HANNAH THIS TOOK SO FUCKING LONG AND IM SO SO RUSTY W WRITING!!! but ily.. thank u for sending me this ily UGH!! tw for past rape and incest and references to underage abuse - post in question btw!! link is old bc I changed my user

Jimmy picks you up on a street corner, leering out the window of his pick-up truck like you’re a two-dollar whore.

“Oh.” You press your cheek into your raised shoulder. Coy and playful. Like he’s flirting with you. Jimmy would like to make it clear that he is doing anything but that, he’s harassing you. He is ogling you. You are a slutty piece of meat. “I’m not for sale mister.”

“Why you dressed like that then?”

He takes a good look at your face. You’re young—Younger than he has ever looked. Eyes that swallow up your whole entire face, fringed by feathery lashes, that sweet little girl pout.

In the sunlight he sees you in fresco.

When he takes you home he sees you for who you are. This sad little girl with a daddy-shaped hole in her heart.

It makes him like you even more.

You’re splayed flat on his mattress, blinking up at him with big, sad eyes. You know, those kind of eyes. The eyes that girls who end up on the side of milk cartons have. The eyes that foster children and teenage girls on suicide watch have.

“C’mon.” Jimmy cocks his head to the side, he’s got you all figured out. “What’s going on at home?” He squeezes your cheeks until your lips are forced into a pink pout.

“Whath d’yu meanth?” It comes out muffled but he understands well enough.

“I mean, sweetheart, what is it about me—“ Jimmy’s free hand works on unbuckling his belt, you flinch with each clink. Oh, poor thing. He wonders if daddy used it on your tits or cunt. “—That reminds you of daddy?” He lets go of your face to watch it scrunch up in protest and then fall a moment later.

Shyly, quietly, peeking at him through your lashes—“You smell like him.”

“Oh, do I?” Jimmy bumps your nose with his, your eyes are so big there are barely any whites. Your heart is beating so fast he feels it beneath your skin.

“You do…” You trace your fingers along the bridge of his nose. “And you have his nose.” Jimmy’s nose is a pretty regular fucking nose, a little crooked from punches thrown his way.

He hums with this nasty smile on his face, giving you a once over before he asks the nitty-gritty questions. “Where did daddy touch you?”

When you don’t respond, blinking at him stupidly like you are oh-so shocked, Jimmy sighs and slips a hand up your dress. He pushes your thong to the side, plucking your clit so hard you whimper. “Did daddy touch you here?”

You stare at him, bottom lip trembling, unable to move.

“No?” He moves on, hand travelling further up your dress to one of your nice tits. “Was it here? Did daddy touch you like this?” He asks, giving it a firm squeeze, like he’s checking a fruit ripeness.

You are still fucking looking at him with those big, sad eyes. It’s like you want him to feel bad for you. But Jimmy does not care if you have been touched here, there or everywhere.

Jimmy pushes his fingers into your mouth. You don’t bite down because you have done this before. He wets your puffy asshole. “I guess daddy liked to touch you here, huh?” One finger makes it in and you whine deep in the back of your throat. “Don’t blame the guy.”

[buck-star]

OOO OOO OOO! Pick me pick me!! 😂 Drabble of?? Get this! Logan and reader opening gifts from each other and she gets like a necklace with an L on it right? And he thinks it’s cringe bc he didn’t know what else to get her and she just basically throws herself at him with a hug 🤗 you don’t have to :)) I still love u ❤️

Thank you for the request. It’s such a cute idea and I hope you like it. Love you too, and hope you love Logan now even more.🙂‍↕️❤️

Masterlist | Holiday game

“It might be…” Logan stops himself when he watches you unwrap the little box in your hands. He inhales deeply, his hands sweaty as he runs them through his hair. His green eyes studying every one of your movements. “If you don’t like it, we can get you something else.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, your eyes moving up to meet Logan’s. The soft smile on your lips makes his heart beat faster, and for a moment he forgets everything around the two of you.

“Whatever it is, what you got me, I will love it,” you say, putting the wrapping paper away. In your hands you hold a small, blue box. You look down at it, reading the words that are printed on the top of it. ‘Merry Christmas, bub.’

“How do you know?” Logan asks, shaking his head slightly. When he first saw the present and bought it, he was sure it was the most beautiful and precious thing he could give you. But the more he thought about it, he wasn’t sure if it was that good or if you would feel like he wants to own you — what he definitely doesn’t want to.

“Because it’s from you. You thought about something to give me that’s more important than anything else. And you never got me anything that I didn’t like before, so I don’t think this will be any different." You assure him, opening the small box. Your jaw drops immediately, and your eyes widen when you see the necklace placed perfectly in there.

It’s not just any necklace; it’s a golden one with a ‘L’ dangling down.

Logan shifts, swallowing thickly. Do you like it? Do you hate it? He isn’t sure, and that makes him squirm even more; maybe he should have bought you an oversized hoodie and sprayed some of his perfume on it.

“I’m sorry, I should have thought better than giving you something that could show ownership… I didn’t mean to make it look like th—“ Logan whispers under his breath, ready to apologize further for the stupid gift he got you. Though it isn’t as bad as he thinks, it’s not even bad at all.

“This is—“ you blink away the tears that burn in your eyes. A smile creeping onto your lips as you look up at your boyfriend. “It’s the most beautiful and personal gift you could possibly give me.”

Logan frowns until you throw yourself into his lap and giggle. Only then he notices that this is the perfect present. A necklace with his letter on it, no ownership, just the love he feels shown in another way than saying it out loud or affection. Now, it’s shown in a way so everyone knows that you’re his in the most beautiful way possible.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @fandomxo00 @blackhawkfanatic (add yourself.)

[kawoala]

DRIVEN BY ADRENALINE suna rintarou. chapter 004 ; jailbird.

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২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 (1,033)

২ 𓂅 ࣪ ೨ ; 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 (bailing someone out of jail, runa being upset but only bc she loves her cousin, flirty! suna AGAIN, tiny bit of arguing, kind of also a filler :/)

There are many perks of having a roommate. For example, you’re no longer alone. Now, when you stay up late, there is someone keeping you company, making you laugh and swapping war stories with you.

Just as there are perks, there are bad things as well. For example, you can hear everything that goes on. Including when Runa gets a phone call in the middle of the night, despite her phone being silent.

“Hello?” Her voice groggy, sleep still coating her throat. She pauses, then clears her throat. “Rin? What are—“ she stops talking, or she’s cut off. You roll over in bed and face her. “Oh, okay, yeah. Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Okay, yeah, love you too.”

She glances at you and, even in the dark, she can see your eyes open. “Sorry,” she apologizes in a whisper. “Rin called me. He, um, got arrested. Again.”

You blink a couple times, your tiredness suddenly gone. You sit up at the same time she does. “Again?” You repeat. You watch her slip on her shoes, forgetting about even needing socks. “Are you going to bail him out?”

“Yeah,” she says, standing up and rushing to put a coat on. “I’m sorry I woke you up. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Um, wait.” She stops, but you can see the urgency in her eyes. “Can I go with you? I don’t mean to be codependent, or whatever, but, um.”

She sighs, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead, then nods. “Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Yeah, you can come. Just, uh, hurry up. Please.”

Suddenly, all the years of people calling you weird for sleeping in socks are thrown out the window. All you have to do is slip on some shoes. Thanks to the extremely cold AC in your building, you’re already in a hoodie and sweatpants.

The streets are practically empty as Runa drives down them. That’s to be expected, though, since it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday. She opts out of playing music. Her knuckles are white as they grip the steering wheel. You wonder how many times she’s done this before. 

You’ve never been to a police station. Actually, that’s a lie. You went on a field trip in middle school— the first and last time you’d ever been inside one. You don’t know how bailing someone out works, either, but Runa looks familiar with the process, so you just follow her.

The police station is quiet— unexpectedly so. You spent years of your childhood watching police shows, so you expected it to be a little more rowdy than a homeless man and a sobbing teenage girl. It’s colder than you expected, too. Even though you’re wearing a hoodie, you still have to wrap your arms around yourself.

The woman at the front desk seems familiar with Runa. They talk in hushed voices for a minute or two, and then Runa gestures for you to follow her. You glance back at the desk woman, but she’s typing away at her computer once again, seemingly honed in on whatever.

You follow Runa to what you assume is the back of the station. There are jail cells lined up against the wall, but most of them are empty. You stop at the last one and a quiet gasp leaves your mouth at the sight.

It’s Rin, but he’s hunched over, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His knuckles are visibly bruised and you think there might be blood staining his shirt. He looks up at the absence of further footsteps. His eyes are red.

“You’re an idiot,” Runa says, crossing her arms over her chest.

His eyes flicker from her to you and you wave. “Hi, Rin.”

“I mean—“ She scoffs. “This is, what, the third time in as many months? Get it together, Rin! Like, what were you thinking? You know how much this costs me?”

“Costs you?” Rin repeats, scoffing as he now stands up. “I pay you back every time, don’t even.”

She clamps her jaw shut, and you know it’s because she’s too angry to speak. She glances back and waves her hand. The next thing you know, Rin is standing next to you and Runa.

You’re quiet, because what else are you supposed to do? Runa and Rin keep glaring at each other and, for a brief moment, you think they’re communicating telepathically. Rin looks at you, a small smirk on his face, and you look away.

This was a bad idea.

When you finally leave, something occurs to you. Where are you supposed to sit now? The front seat or the back seat? Rin is her cousin, but she’s mad at him, so maybe she’ll make him sit in the back? Your feet seem to stutter and you trip a bit, catching yourself before you can hit the ground. Rin and Runa look back, brows furrowed, but you clear your throat and shrug.

And then Runa solves all your problems by getting in the passenger seat. Rin is driving, got it. You get in the backseat and sit behind Rin.

This is ridiculous. The car ride is quiet. You can practically see steam coming off of Runa. Rin is driving with one hand. Your head is swimming. You stare out the window and look at the houses as you pass them.

Rin drives to his house and, before he leaves, he walks over to your side of the car and leans down into the window. “You came with her.”

You shrug, wringing your fingers in your lap. “I’ve never been to a police station before.” It’s an excuse, you know he knows. “And I was bored.”

“You were sleeping,” he hums out. “I think,” he leans closer, now whispering, “you just wanted to see me.”

“What?” Your face heats up, eyes widening a bit. “That’s— I didn’t— Runa was just—“

He laughs and smacks the roof of the car. “I’ll see you guys later, yeah?” He looks at Runa and stops laughing. “I’m sorry, Runie. I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She rolls her eyes. She puts the car in drive and drives off.

@sahrii , @cherrysurf , @heartmaddie , @jpegarchives , @massacremars

@vertejay , @tiramizuloz , @gumims , @mybelovedvi , @chaotic-neutral-ig

@usbrous , @iheartamora , @iluv-ace , @xavlyzn , @velvetreds

@mysticstrawberryballoon , @h0n3y-l3m0n05 , @aethersluvrr , @smiithys , @rriwyu

@twiishaa , @kissingkzuha

[sillymercury]

In the first tags it says most movies/books are not meant to be torn apart but I disagree completely. In fact I think most books/movies are made to dissected and understood on a deeper level. Because whether you like it or not and whether the author meant to or not, books/movies have themes and messages and many people enjoy finding them.

I don’t think it smart to write something(esp things so popular) off as mindless entertainment bc your being fed a message even if you don’t know it. There is nothing wrong with enjoying a book despite whatever message is being sent but when you blatantly ignoring the fact that these things exist is how propaganda propagates. If you are being intentionally fed a narrative without knowing you are likely to internalize it on some level which can be particularly dangerous. The danger presents itself abundantly in this day and age especially when you see people who have such hard stances but cant tell you/explain where those stances originate. Sns thrives off of the want to ‘turn your mind off’ and just consume/enjoy, but that’s never what actually happens. Your subconscious is still processing information but since you’re not consciously dealing with it that leaves room for issues like anxiety, depression, and personality disorder. This seems off topic but ‘mindless consumption’ isn’t a thing, your brain keeps score even when you don’t.

Also a book can have multiple “messages” and you can like some and not the others while still enjoying the piece overall. When I truly love a piece of media I acknowledge is flaws and shortcomings and can see the issues with a story/message while still enjoying it thoroughly. An example for me is I enjoyed the book The Picture of Dorian Gray while recognizing and rejecting the way the characters/book discusses and depicts women.

Like in Nestas book specifically, the main themes are empowerment (specifically female) and growth. This book was my favorite in the series and yet I can still acknowledge all the things wrong with it. Main character were incredibly hypocritical throughout the book, verbal abuse was seemingly over looked/excused, Stockholm syndrome parallels, etc. I identify these things but that still doesn’t detract from my experience instead, adds to it.

Another thing I wanted to mention before bringing this to a close; authors. For the sake of not rambling due to personal feelings I’ll just say, there is nothing wrong with calling out behavior or publicly disagreeing with ideals when it come to public figures. How it’s handled, whether it works, or it’s longevity is a different conversation but there is nothing wrong with speaking out against people in the public eye/people who create mass consumed media.

I understand your take, and I agree people take things way to seriously, but I think your frustration may be displaced. I think the issue with ACOTAR fandom specifically is the same issue with most fandoms. People are delusional, mean, and spoiled. People identify to hard or personalize characters/celebs to the point it becomes an parasocial and problematic. People are also very spoiled in the sense that we feel entitled to the things we want, like we deserve them intrinsically and when there is the threat of not getting what you want (esp is fandoms when discussing this almost mob mentality) or someone challenges your belief/opinion people lash out and get nasty, even feeling personally wronged but a differing stance. When you bring all of these things together it can get nasty very quickly. I’ve been and am still in so many fandoms that I hardly interact with because so much content is toxic or rage bait or whatever. Platforms like Reddit or discord where you can have controlled conversation with a group of people just as dedicated to a topic as you, and you can discuss thoughts and opinions in (what should be) a safe space is an incredible experience but most platforms don’t have moderation that can harbor that so then your left with a mess of often times toxicity and division.

I rambled and diverged a little bit but I thought hard about what I had read and this is what I came up with. Also I feel I should say I’m not a lit major lol but I am educated and I work hard to form my own opinions while still listening to other people takes. And that this is not an attack on op this is pretty much my stream of consciousness after reading the post and I am open to discussion.

my hot take as to why the acotar fandom is a shit show is because too many people with english degrees infiltrated and cannot read a book simply to enjoy it, they must pick it apart and analyze it to the point of just tearing it, the characters and the author apart. and gullible people adopted that same mindset.

in simpler terms: too many people take it way, WAY too seriously lol. like this series is meant for entertainment. sarah didn’t write classic literature with underlying themes on morals and society that’s meant as think pieces. y’all do too much and can never just enjoy things. you’re like the cinephiles that cannot just watch a movie for entertainment purposes, you need citizen kane otherwise you’re shitting on everything because it’s not up to your snobbish standards

[dannyz0ur]

Tim Wright [MH] — NSFW Alphabet

god did i have fun writing this 😈 and i hope you have fun reading it!!

*all these headcanons are assuming s/o and Tim are already in a relationship, I don’t see him as one to have fuck buddies or one-night-stands.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) It’s a different story between Tim and Masky. One will check up on you, ask how it was and how you feel, if you need anything, and will clean you up if you just wanna cuddle/sleep after. And then the other one is less attentive. At most he’ll lazily clean you up if you insist and bring you water if you really need it and he’s not feeling lazy enough not to do so. And he just won’t stay around longer than necessary, in his mindset he’s got “better shit to do.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I feel like Tim’s and Masky’s favorite body part of themselves is their arms. ‘Cause they’re strong, useful, and Masky loves to easily pin you down while Tim loves holding you.

Now their favorite body part of yours would be your ass and thighs. Idk he strikes me as a thigh man. And ass. Ass and thigh. Masky doesn’t really mind that stuff as long as he’s got a hole to put it in (sorry but he’s just not romantic like that).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Breeding kink, anyone? Tim would have one. Thinking about knocking you up and making a pretty little family really does it for him. Yk gives him hope that he can have a normal life for a little bit. Even if you can’t get pregnant, he likes to entertain that idea in his head while he’s balls-deep in you. So that means he will cum inside as long as you let him. Oh also he cums a lot, and it’s more thick than watery (bro doesn’t have a balanced diet cmon y’all, with all those blackouts and stuff? yeah I think not).

Masky likes cumming on your face, with your tongue out. Feels like he’s marking you. But also humiliating you. So he gets a little kick out of it.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Tim doesn’t need Masky to front to be stealing your underwear, lemme tell you that. If he could, before you were dating, he was already making a collection of used underwear of yours. Yes he sniffed them while jerking off and yes he sniffed them to sleep sometimes.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) I’d say you’re not his first but, again, he doesn’t strike me as the kind to have fuckbudies or one-night-stands. Ig he knows what he’s doing and he’s a good learner when it comes to what you like, but he’s not like a fuckboy or anything-

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Doggy, leap frog (yk basics from behind, he loves your ass remember?), if Tim’s tired then he’ll let you ride him. Now Masky likes it from behind too but more forceful, he’ll like- make the bed creak and won’t stop til he’s either done or you’re begging him to stop. He might not even stop if you blackout on him, who knows.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) Tim’s rarely goofy at all so no. He’s got more of a romantic, focused attitude when it comes to intimacy with you. And Masky just doesn’t talk at all unless it’s to give you a command or degrade you. He fucks you like he hates you. He doesn’t though, he’s more… obsessed with you? Tim’s there cause he’s in love, Masky lets him bc he’s obsessed. Makes sense?

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) we all know our man is hairyyyy and if you don’t mind he doesn’t trim regularly, he can’t bother to do so with so much stuff in his mind. If you do mention it he’ll try to keep it trimmed for you. Don’t expect him to shave entirely (at least not often).

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Ok so. You had to work it out with Tim before he could be comfortable being intimate with you. He’s got trust issues so it took a while before he actually felt comfortable being intimate and vulnerable. Not a bunch of “I love you”s and cuddles the first few times, that happened after a while. Now Masky just… can’t be intimate for the life of him. Ask him to be a little more intimate and he’ll laugh at your face (chuckle, we know he doesn’t laugh a lot).

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Before you? Rarely, like twice or thrice a week maybe. After you? Yk, before dating you but when he was stalking getting to know you? A lot. When he’s with you he prefers to take it out on you, so rarely once more.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) well well well… this is a long one if I elaborate, so lemme just list them…

previously mentioned breeding kink, breathplay, dacryphilia, somnophilia, sadism, corruption, degradation. These are both Tim’s and Masky’s so uh have fun.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Tim prefers privacy, so your/his bed, the shower, etc. Masky doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll have you whenever he wants you. He finds the car the most common place to fuck you in, though. If you’re out doing something or he just came home frustrated and you go out to greet him, he’ll just drag you to the backseat and fuck the daylights out of you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) For Tim it’s if you’re doing anything domestic. Doing dishes, cooking, cleaning, fixing/cleaning the car? He’s gonna reward you real well later. For Masky it’s whenever he’s pent up or frustrated, he’ll take it out on you by fucking you because he knows he can’t afford to hurt you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Tim hates the idea of actually hurting you. Yk knife play or slapping you. Most he’ll do is spank you and even then he’ll ask if he was too rough and apologize. In contrast, Masky has no restraint. He will do whatever he wants to you, whenever he wants, and you know better than to disobey…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Oh, Tim gives you head like he’s starving. Not like… not messy and eager like Toby would (Toby alphabet also in production) but he’s relentless, gives you good head and won’t stop until you’re overstimulated. Masky hardly ever uses his mouth on you. Only to tease you to the point of tears and then fuck you into oblivion. And he lovessss to force his thick cock down your throat and gag on it- (sorry)

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) I’m not original at all with this but idc. Tim’s slow and sensual, maybe he’ll go hard and slow as he gets closer to cumming. Masky just… he doesn’t think about that. If he wants to go agonizingly slow he will, and if he wants to rearrange your guts until your hole bleeds then he will.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Tim isn’t a fan. Masky usually fucks you so rough it feels like a quickie.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) As long as you talk it through and already built that trust with Tim, he’s probably open to try things with you. Masky will not ask you if you want to try anything, if he wants to he will. If you propose things to him he’ll laugh at your face (again.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Tim can last up to 2 rounds if the first one wasn’t physically demanding, Masky just needs to cum so as long as he does that he doesn’t really need another round. Unless he’s in a mood and wants to torture you. He’ll drag it out no matter how many times he cums.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) I feel like none of them do. If you do have toys none of them would be interested in trying them, but if you want to implement them, Tim would be totally fine with that, just talk it through. Masky would spiral and ask if he’s just not enough or something, so maybe don’t try with him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Tim doesn’t tease you further than verbally, doesn’t see the need. Masky’s whole deal is teasing you and making you cry for him, so he’s very unfair I’d say.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Loud enough for only you to hear. Grunts and deep, low moans. Masky does not make sound, actually. Somehow he manages to keep it together while making you cry and scream his name.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) If you catch him off-guard you have a chance to hear Tim whimper, but it’s a rare chance. Like, riding him and you kiss a hickey on a specially sensitive part of his neck, and you’ll probably get him to whimper.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) ok so as previously stated, hairy, all over. Strong arms and overall chubby yum yum 🤤 now about his size I’d say average, about 6.5-7 inches and thickkk you’ll feel that dick all the way inside you every timeeee

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Tim’s is not that high, I’d say average. He’s usually busy and tired, most he’ll do is lazy, cuddly sex if you two really need it. Masky’s a little higher but because that’s his coping mechanism for when he’s frustrated.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Tim falls asleep after making sure you don’t need anything else, he falls asleep easily cause he’s with you and you tired him out hehe. Masky doesn’t even stay in bed after he’s done with you. He’ll go out either for a smoke or to do anything else.

hope you stuck around and liked it as much as i liked writing it 🤤 remember reqs are open! here's the list of characters i'll write for!

[fenharel-babe]

Maybe it’s just me, which is okay, but I understand why the past romances weren’t really mentioned. If you romanced someone other than Solas, We got a letter and one line because I mean….the other LI’s aren’t involved in this chapter of the inquisitors story. You know what I mean?? They’re not involved in the plot, so it makes sense there isn’t much mention of previous romance.

And the reason Solavellan gets so much is because breaking news: SOLAS is one of the MAIN CHARACTERS. Literally the most important character. It’s not such a shock that his romance is going to get more coverage and an ending itself.

The romances in DAI all had conclusions (from my memory), unless someone writes otherwise. CULLEN AND SERA GOT MARRIED.

Do I hate it? No I’m SOOO glad they got that! Even though I fucking hate Cullen, if you love him then I’m glad for you! Yay! And I kinda get the saltiness from not getting attention in DATV if you didn’t romance Solas since it will sting to see everyone else get so much and you only get a letter and 1 line…..but I don’t get it when there’s ppl out there sincerely mad. And once again coming from a solavellan, I hate when ppl call them delusional and say the game was just going towards solavellan. It wasn’t. Once again, past romances mentioned very little because they’re👏not👏involved👏. While a romanced Solas and Lavellan are very much involved.

The other LIs (other than Dorian) are not involved. They won’t appear bc where would they fit??? I know we can say they come with the inquisitor, but in my head it would be pointless. The inky is going RIGHT BACK to the South literally through an eluvian (most likely) so coming with them would be pointless to me.

And another thing I don’t get is that some people hate the romance in the inner circle. Like if Lucanis or Neve get together, a lot of people hate it??? I’m just surprised like…..I thought we would like the fact that story happens in the banter and the characters change over the story and then fall in love?? I got Harding and Taash together and I loved it! They were sweet and cute! I don’t see anything wrong but that’s my opinion. And you’re totally allowed to have yours!! This isn’t hate to literally ANYONE!!! Just my ramblings and takes on things I’ve seen in the fandom.

Anyways thanks for reading if you did lol.

[angesaurus]

The kids went to Grammy’s for a sleepover and Grammy also gave us a movie gift card AND we had a free movie ticket pass so Dan and I went to see Wicked. I LOVED it. We saw the show in Philly back in 2013 but we had crappy seats so it was not the best experience (Dan bought limited viewing seats not realizing that’s why they were so cheap LOL).

But we get to the theater and go to the theater it’s in, and sonic is playing??? We were confused because our movie was set to start very soon! Dan went to go ask about it and the girl who scanned our tickets is like oh no never mind you are theater 5 not 4! So we’re like oh ok. Guess they changed the theater? Go into theater 5. We purposely picked end seats and our seats were NOT on the end. The new theater layout was way bigger than the theater layout we chose seats for on the app (so the seats we chose were now in the middle). We were like WTF? I asked another group to confirm they were also seeing wicked here and they were. So I was like well whatever, we’ll just sit in the seats we picked even though they changed the theater on us. Then I was like well no, this is annoying I purposely chose the end!

So I went out to talk to the girl and she’s like eh go to the box office they can move your seats. I’m like oh ok! Well the box office was like “I’m so sorry but the manager is really busy because we are very short staffed! Go ahead and sit in the end seats you want, if someone comes and makes you move, then let us know and we’ll make sure we fix it” … I was like well okay! The movie was about to start so I went back in the theater and we just stayed in the seats bc I felt like I was being annoying lol plus like really who cares? We paid for the movie regardless. then a few minutes later a huge group comes in and they are like hey these are our seats??? And Dan was like no these are ours? And we show each other the seat numbers. So now we’re like WTF? So I say it’s fine we’ll move (down to the end, which is what I wanted LOL). The movie was literally a few minutes from starting and I hate conflict so I was like it’s fine!!!! Whatever! I just want to enjoy the movie yay end seats.

But still at this point I’m like WTF is going on. I ask Dan to check the app to see what seats are still available and he’s like well the 2 new end seats we are in are open still so we’re fine. But he’s like “but I don’t understand! When I bought the tickets, the theater layout was different! Ther was the long row in the middle and then the rows on the sides only had 2 seats each! This theater is way bigger, so all the seats are messed up!! And my tickets say theater 4 still!!!” So we’re like, well fine after the movie we will definitely find a manager and ask about it because this all just seems weird and the whole point of choosing your seat is that you choose your seat! It’s not our fault they changed the theater!!!

Well then Dan keeps looking at his app and the tickets and he finally realizes …. He purchased tickets for TOMORROW 💀💀💀💀💀 I was like SERIOUSLY 😂😂😂

But what’s so weird is the girl scanned our tickets???? And at first an error message popped up and she rescanned them and let us go in????? Wouldn’t it have been like nope not valid and she would have said something??? We had already bought popcorn so like maybe she didn’t want to deal with it???? I have rbf but I’m really nice to employees??? 😂😂😂😂

At this point though I’m like well what should we do????? And Dan was like nothing let’s just stay and then we won’t bother saying anything obviously bc it’s our fault 😂😂😂😂 so dumb. I am still laughing about it!!!!! I mean we did pay for tickets!!!! 😂

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 11

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Warnings: hungover reader, i think thats it

Summary: 1 day after your intense dinner and "after party" with Joel, your head is fogged. you arent sure where to go or what to do from here. (1400k+)

a/n: hey im back. probs gonna end this soon bc tbh, idk where its going. leave feedback but be nice :P. ps didnt proof, prob lots of errors, oops. pps sad soppy soft joel inbound.

Chapter 10 - Masterlist - Chapter 12 (Coming Soon)

You wake up and your head is pounding. Last nights clothes still littering the floor, and the sun barely creeping in your window. You stumble into the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and grabbing the bottle of Advil. Popping the cap off and turning the sink on simultaneously, you throw 2 into your mouth and stick your face under the faucet, taking in 2 giant gulps of water. You walk back into your room, sighing at the sight. Yesterdays memories flooding in, playing in your brain like a movie you cant turn off. You pick up your ripped shirt and toss it in the trashcan, and your jeans in the hamper. 

The coffee pot is dripping and the aroma fills your house. You get your favorite mug out of the cabinet and pour yourself a cup, leaving room for a splash of creamer. You plop into the same spot as usual on your couch, not even turning the TV on. You begin to sequence every event of yesterday, nitpicking every singular detail. Instead of your usual tears, you begin to feel anger. You’re mad at how you were spoken to, how you were treated, how you were left. You decide that this time, you arent extending the olive branch. One too many times have you tried to make up for actions that aren’t your responsibility. 

After 4 hours of deep cleaning, you grab the 3 baskets of clean laundry from the laundry room and haul them to your couch. You begin folding everything you’ve let pile up since Penny was here. You miss her. You go to reach for your phone, and it isn't there. You remember Joel grabbing it from you, dropping it on your bedroom floor. You head to your room, and pick it up off the floor. It’s dead. Of fucking course. You let out the 50th sigh of today and grab the charger. You turn the TV on and flip to How I Met Your Mother, another comfort show of yours. While you wait for your phone to turn on, you fold and hang fold and hang. A never ending cycle it seems. After the first basket, your phone comes back on and you dive for it, checking to see if you have any missed calls or texts from Joel. There isn’t a single one. 

You call Penny, detailing your Thanksgiving with the Millers. 

“And then he left. He just fucking left.” You say, peering out your window towards Joels. Hoping for any sign of life.

“What the fuck do you mean he ‘left’?!” Penny says, loud enough that you have to pull the phone away from your ear. 

“He left. His eyes looked different, but he just walked out. I didn’t chase him and he didn’t come back. AND he has a fucking girlfriend. I truly don’t-” Penny interjects. 

“A fucking girlfriend?!?! Im actually going to kill this man.” 

You let out a sigh. “I just don’t know what to do Pen. The sex was so fucking good. I loved being dominated like that but the circumstances surrounding it fucking blow. I refuse to be the first to speak so I guess parent-teacher conferences will just have to be awkward from now on.” 

“Honestly, its his loss Yellow. I wish I could do something or help.” Penny says, disgruntled. 

“I know Pen, but just talking to you about it helps.” you say calmly. Soaking in her vibes through the phone. 

Your phone beeps. 

“So, Im thinking about-” 

“Hold on Pen” you say, switching her to speaker and checking your texts. 

“Holding!” she says cheerfully. 

“Its Joel.” you say. 

“What?” Penny says, every ounce of cheerfulness leaving her voice, a sort of rage fillingit instead. 

You didn’t mean to say it outloud but you did. 

“Well what the hell did he say?!”

“I refuse to look. He can kiss my ass.” You retort, both of you erupting in laughter. 

A couple more hours go by on the phone with Penny. You learn that her time in Ireland may be cut short due to her moms health. It’s a weird feeling for you. You want Penny to be happy but you also miss her so much. 

“Okay Pen. I’ve gotta make some dinner and get this laundry put in drawers instead of living in a basket.” 

“I miss you yellow. I’ll see you soon, okay? Let me know if anything happens with Joel.” she responds. 

You had completely forgotten Joel texted you. You’re nauseous. 

“I will. Love ya!” 

“Love ya!” 

The call disconnects. You sigh, dragging the 3 laundry baskets to your room. You sit on your bed, and look out the window. Joel’s curtains in the same place they have been, neatly on the windowsill. 

You follow through on your word, and you don’t even read Joels text. You put your laundry away and scrounge up some dinner. You eat leftover pasta and garlic knots and settle in for the night, cozying up under a blanket on your very loved couch. 

You wake up to a knocking on your door. It’s dark so you’re weary. Looking out the peephole, you see Joel. He’s in jeans and a flannel but he looks disheveled. His normally bright eyes are now withdrawn and dull, his arms sitting heavily at his sides, holding flowers. You’re hesitant to open the door. Partially because nothing good comes from late nights with him, and partially because you have no desire to speak to him. He drained you emotionally, and made you feel small. 

“What do you want, Joel?” you say through the door, pulling yourself away from the peephole. 

“P-please open it. I just wanna t-t-talk to ya.” His voice sweet as molasses, but cracking.

“Joel, realistically I have nothing to say.” You take a deep breath, struggling to keep your voice from shaking. “We are not good for each other, in any capacity. I think we both made that clear to each other over the last few weeks.” 

A tear falls slowly from his right eye. 

“Yellow. P-p-please.” He blubbers through a few more tears. 

You sigh and open the door, leaving the storm door shut.

His eyes are bloodshot, his hair is a wreck, and his posture is depressing. 

“Joel-”

“Please just let me talk, and then I’ll go. I promise.” he says. You nod, signaling him to go ahead. 

“Im so sorry. For everything. Im sorry for how I spoke to you, for how I let Celeste speak to you, for not sticking up for you-” he takes a deep breath in, “Most of all, Im sorry for not being more clear with my intentions from day one.” his head drops. 

"From the moment I saw you, everything changed. I can still remember the first time our eyes met—it was like the world paused for a second. I didn’t know you yet, but something about you felt familiar, like I had been waiting for you without even realizing it.” he pauses, sniffling. 

“There was this quiet kind of magic in the way you moved, in the way your smile lit up the room. I didn’t know it then, but I was already falling. It’s like my heart recognized you before my mind did, and it just couldn’t let go. I tried to ignore it, tried to convince myself it was just a fleeting moment, a passing attraction. But the more I saw you, the more I couldn’t escape it.” 

And you say nothing. Because he’s lowkey been a dick from day one, so you’re confused. 

“Joel, respectfully, you were an ass to me the day we met. You don’t treat someone you care about this much, like that.” You say blankly. 

“I was scared. After Sarah’s mom cheated on me, I had no interest in finding someone. As far as I was concerned, it was just her and I. No one else mattered, and I didn’t mind it.” 

“That still isn’t a reason to treat me the way you did. Nothing about what we did was normal. Fun? Sure. Normal? Not really.”

He sighs. “I know, and I’m sorry. I want to fix it. I want to do right by you.” he says, his puppy dog eyes looking up at you. 

“Joel I don’t-” he interrupts.

“You dont have to give me an answer tonight, or hell even this week. But I like you, and I want to give you the world. And I think if we could start over, I could do that. I could be better, for you.” He says, a glimmer of hope in his eyes for the first time in weeks 

You nod your head. “I’ll let you know.” you say, opening the storm door. “Thanks for popping by, and for apologizing. I appreciate it.” 

He hands you the flowers with a nod, and turns back toward his house, borderline disappearing in the haze.

[flowersdiceandlove]

I got the tgcf official books last year around this time. I got the first four for Christmas and the last four for my birthday. My birthday’s at the start of February so it made sense to split it that way. For every single one of my birthdays, there has always been a theme. It’s just the tradition my mom set and I love it so we keep doing it. Because of the books and how much I love them, last year’s theme was Heaven Official’s Blessing.

My birthday last year was actually pretty rough bc of medical stuff, but I was really, really happy to have the books. When I first read the series before the official translation, I was going through a hard time and the series really helped me through it. It brought so much joy and happiness to my life, making me laugh and squeal in turn at all the antics and sweet moments. And after I finished it, remembering Xie Lian helped me get through even more. Remembering him and all he went through and how he’s still the same kind and caring person, how he keeps going and persevering, not letting things keep him down for too long, and staying true to himself when it most matters, really, really helped me.

I thought was just going to fly right through the eight books because of how much I love them, but turns out I’ve been dragging my feet and only just started the eighth about a week ago. Lmao. I guess since I already knew what happens, I wasn’t sitting on the edge of my seat to find out “what next.” I still remember the first time I read it and Xie Lian first arrived at the Gambler’s Den. That chapter left on a cliff hanger and I was barely containing my excitement at them meeting again and Xie Lian seeing Hua Cheng’s real appearance.

I love them so much.

Hua Cheng is probably one of my all time favorite characters. I love his personality. His charm, his playfulness, his teasing.His devotion is literally on the next level. Like dude. Wow. I bow to you #1 Simp King. I mean that with the upmost respect, really. It is impressive. That level of loyalty and trust and yearning is admirable. His perseverance and how he gained power? Wow. His sense of justice, his trickiness with his words… He’s awesome. I aspire to be as much of a badass gay simp boss as he is one day. He is GOALS. Especially his style. Like damn. He’s hot. I wanna look like that. But I would like to keep both my eyes, please.

…what was i talking about again? Uh… I don’t remember my point.

Anyway, I love hualian. I love tgcf. I’m so happy I have them😊

Oh, also, I don’t know when I got this, but I love it cause it reminds me of the wraith butterflies and subsequently Hua Cheng, Hualian, tgcf, and all those wonderful feelings. I don’t know if you can see it too well in the photo, but the white part on the wings sparkles and the transparent white fabric of the wings itself sparkles in the light too.

[yarrayora]

[reposting this as its own thing]

if i were to rewrite tybw arc instead of a bunch of supervillains with overwhelming powers that can easily crush the shinigami, quincies should be tight knit survivors with limited resources who learned how to be REALLY really good at ambushing shinigami in group and picking them off one by one while being unseen

it would be soooo good if ichigo learns that “winning the war” doesnt always mean a victory, especially if they actually stick to their gun about quincies being survivors of a genocide it would be great to have shinigami fearing them thinking theyre outnumbered but we shifts to uryu’s perspective and then we see that even the quincies are struggling to survive

it would make ywach so much more of a threat too, a charismatic leader who unites his people with the promise of a better future instead of leading with fear and an iron grip

also god. to have an enemy asks ichigo “you enjoy fighting us, don’t you? you goddamn monster” pinned down by ichigo and no longer fighting simply waiting for their death. buying time for the others to escape

ichigo has never fought an enemy crying fearing death but already resigned to their death

like ichigo’s theoretically aware of the quincy genocide in canon but to have to look uryu in the face and see the weight of it? thats very different

you can also have younger quincies being gungho about fighting in the war because they can finally avenge their family, the reality of war itself hasnt settled in to them, only to be defeated and have an older quincy saving them

toshiro going “why would they send an inexperienced soldier like you to war?” sneering. not realizing the truth yet

ichigo already had similar storyline with hanataro. why cant he saved a quincy realizing theyre the same age as his sister?

battling a group of quincies and then to the rest of the shinigami seemingly out of nowhere ichigo blocks their attack and the first assumption is ofc that he got mindfucked somehow but then they hear ichigo mumbles and says “what?” and ichigo shouts louder “THIS IS JUST A KID!” as if he wasn’t the same age as the quincy he saved when he risked his life to save rukia

and the shinigami wouldn’t get it, maybe if it was komamura, but the rest of them? so in the end ichigo runs while carrying the quincy kid in one arm while using his blade with another to fend off attacks and the quincy kid grips onto ichigo demanding to know why he saved them while trying so hard to sound brave

tears swelling in their eyes waiting for this to be a trick a trap and not that their enemies have compassion too

also like. ichigo saving a quincy would make his mother’s heritage even more relevant! he brings the kid back to their people and like. imagine if yhwach tells them they can trust ichigo because he is his mother’s son

the quincy kid feeling less guilty about being saved by a shinigami bc turns out the shinigami has quincy blood in him and it’s just. that’s wrong, isnt it? his blood and his heritage shouldnt paint what he is as a person! but it’s hard to say that when he sees how the quincies are living

and then yhwach tries to radicalize ichigo because he is the strongest asset to have in this war. don't you want to know your mother's family? what happened to them? what the shinigami has done to us?

this yhwach is weak. he's dying. he's old and he's mortal his body doesn't work the way it used to. and this is the man who has managed to drove soul society into the crushing state it is in now but exactly because he's weak he knows how to fight against strong monsters who never had to worry about ants on their paths

quincies are humans! even if their supernatural ability helps prolong their lives it's not like their very organic body can keep up with their age!

to make him an effective leader who unite them. i can see him not even hiding how weak he is now to the other quincies. he uses himself as a warning sign

this is your future if we dont eradicate the shinigami i don't want this future for you

he's yamamoto's foil. he's everyone's grandfather. people are blindly loyal to him because he showers them with affection and promises them a future

instead of the ridiculously OP power that makes it weird he can be defeated at all, Almighty should have a limited usage of manipulating probability and causality, making the 0,0001% chance of victory possible, but can't do anything if the chance is 0% at all

meanwhile there's ichigo's grief about his mother and conflict about where he should stand in this war and his power not caring for anyone else but him? he should save yhwach from the shinigami's attack. yhwach should feel victory is in their grasp because of that. ichigo should be consumed by his power because both the zanpakuro and the quincy blood will no longer allow their ichigo be used as anyone's pawn

and. Ishida who tries to use his antithesis power to prolong Yhwach's life just a little bit longer temporarily enduring Yhwach's pain while he boosts the quincies morale by making an appearance

and when it's just the two of them and Haschwalth, Yhwach tells Ishida to reverse their condition again, because the young is the quincy's future, and he doesn't want to shave off Ishida's life just to prolong his

[the-reaping-lamb]

Been a while but I’ve been having thoughts so here goes;

Reaper! Lamb but some days the twins have to tell him (force him) to take a break as per Narinder’s request (although they don’t tell him that it’s from Narinder bc that will just push Lambert to keep going). The first time they asked him to he was defiant about it, which was a first considering that he was mostly just gloom and doom all around. They had to physically fight him, to which they were squarely defeated, and Narinder had to bark orders at Lambert to back off. He was promptly placed on what would be the equivalent of a time-out, AKA he was stripped of his duty for the day and spent the rest of the day sauntering off to god knows where

Narinder and the twins alike assumed he must have gone off hunting again despite Narinder’s orders. Because even if the Lamb themself doesn’t directly deliver the souls to Narinder, they still make their way to him so long as he uses his axe— kind of like it’s linked to Narinder’s domain

In reality, they found him sat in the middle of the clearing where his cult used to reside. Shattered remains and rubble surrounding him. He’s just.. sat there. Almost looking catatonic. Just staring off in the distance

They resolved to have one of the twins accompany him whenever he’s on his days off. Narinder refuses to admit it, but the state in which they found the Lamb that day ignited a sort of fear in him — his soul twinkles like it’s fading. But how would that be possible? He is already dead. The only place a soul is carted off to when it flickers like that is Death — him, Narinder. And even then, the soul usually takes on its own light after it has passed the threshold of the living and into his abode. So if the Lamb already belongs to him… why does his soul flicker?

Reaper! Lamb but some days he wakes up angry and spiteful at Narinder. His words are especially venomous on those days, vitriol being spat like it’s the last thing keeping the Lamb alive. The first time it happens (before he witnessed his catatonic state) TOWW was understandably furious, forcing the Lamb to fight him on the spot for his defiance, leaving the Lamb battered and bruised as a result. It is only after having witnessed his catatonic state and seeing how he fights and hunts with a thrill that scares anyone with self-preservation that Narinder understands exactly why. He is a cornered animal at worst, and a wounded little thing surviving off adrenaline at best.

He fights like it’s the only thing that gives him life. He doesn’t toe the line between brutal violence and simple duty, he jumps the fray towards cruelty like he’s a starved man reaching for the last rotting carcass that can sate him.

He will find a reason to hurt something just to hurt. Whether that means hurting the other person or hurting himself.

It is such a drastic change from the Lamb Narinder once knew. He welcomes it at first, giddy at the prospect of knowing just how cruel his Reaper can be towards dissenters. But as time goes on, he begins to miss the Lambert he once knew. Because his Lamb used to smile, he was tired still, but never to the degree he is in now. It was easier back then; the Lamb would crack jokes, ask him questions, gaze at him with the adoration that most followers regard him with — he would look to him like he was the only person he could ever openly talk to. His company… was akin to fresh air when Narinder was still imprisoned.

Now he can barely stand to look at Narinder. He will come with the latest batch of fresh souls, kneel to him, and say, “I offer to my Dark Lord the souls of the ungrateful” in the most monotone voice possible, and it will leave Narinder staring at him some days. Like he expects him to have something else to say — a joke, a quip, a sarcastic comment. But nothing. Narinder will simply mutter, “You are dismissed” and the Lamb will nod and be on his way. And that was that.

It didn’t bother him as much in the beginning, assuming that the Lamb was simply getting used to his new role. He’ll bounce back, he assumed.

He did not. Exhaustion follows his reaper like a stench that will not leave. It lines his body, his face, his movements when he isn’t fighting.

The twins notice his distraught before he does. They know him better than he knows himself, after all, having been beside him throughout all these years. So they make sure to report back to him on those days where the Lamb is forced to take breaks. Narinder appreciates these, but his concern is never quelled.