#when i win the fight with laziness

[mash-masha2011]

Chapter 3: Next stop, anywhere!

Hey, I'm back!

You really motivated me back on previous post, 'cause I really doubted should I continue!

Also I'll try being faster! I just need to fight laziness and 'good' concentration!

Anyway, hope you like this chapter!

By the time Raps, Eugene and Cassandra brought Varian to the castle and led him to his room he was sick of glares, staring people terrified faces and parents holding or hiding their children close. it also didn't help that there were two guards standing at his door who seemed to listen to every sound he made. 

Since he didn't remember much useful on a trip information, once woke up he immediately decided to go in the library and spend there, like, at lest half of week. Of course guards were pretty annoying but he soon got used to their quiet chatter and to the feeling of eyes watching him. His plans were interrupted when Raps barged into the library startling him with Eugene walking in behind her and said that they were going shopping. Varian wasn't too happy about it at first but when he looked at his clothes he agreed that he needs new.

When they walked on the shopping street first thing Varian bought was a black cloak with bright blue treads and a big hood. Rapunzel was against it at first but Varian told her about all those looks people were giving him and she - reluctantly - agreed. Then she bought him a few pairs of dark blue jeans, black and white t-shirts, black really comfy boots and after Eugene asked her a leather vest matching his but brown. Raps also bought him a brown pretty big satchel and said she will paint it when she has time. 

When they returned to the castle and lunched he went straight to the library and the next day woke up sitting in the armchair with the book on his lap in the same Royal library and after a minute of confusion continued studying. At midday Cass walked into his room, led him to stables, gave him horse, walked with Varian to the training grounds and for a few hours was teaching him riding a horse. After that he returned to the library and read some more. He found some interesting information about the sundrop and following the thread learned about Demanitus and got fascinated by him and his work!

Next two days went the same. He read, in the midday Cass taught him riding horse, he ate, went back to library and fell asleep it the armchair. Fifth day though was different. Raps came into his room/library - since no one was ever in library at that week it practically became his room - and handed him journal. His journal. She told him it's where he kept all his alchemy records and formulas, and when she saw how fascinated he was she managed him a lab, which became his new room. 

After that and 'till the end of that week he didn't leave his lab except when needed and made dozens of 'clean' bombs, 'goo' bombs, 'smoke' bombs, 'stink' bombs and a few small drops of acid and Ruddiger transformers - just in case. 

He also discovered that since he lost his memories he could think more out of the box, so he invented a 'smink' bomb, which is a mix of 'stink' and 'smoke' bomb,  'fire' bomb, which in contact with air inflames, 'anti-fire' bomb - compound that stops the fire from fire bomb, 'ice' bomb, which is basically a water bomb but in contact with same air becomes ice and 'anti-ice' bomb which melts the 'ice-bomb''s effect in seconds.

In a few hours before starting their trip Varian packed all solutions he made and put a few in his new satchel - which he really liked - put all his alchemical stuff in caravan - with Eugene's help, he could hardly lift any of them - and finally the journey began!

So naw he was sitting in the end of the caravan and watched the kingdom he barely knew fading in the distance. It was strange. He felt like he should miss this place - he knew he should, it's his home after all - but... he couldn't honestly say he did.

"Hey!" soft voice said behind him and he recognised Raps's "How're you doing?"

"I'm fine!" He didn't fully lie, he didn't know how he felt "And you? You must be so excited about the journey!"

"Yes!" she squealed "It's my first time seeing the real world outside Corona! I can't wait to see what people we'll meet out there!"

"Yeah!" Varian was glad for this distraction from his thoughts. His mind never helped him lighten his mood "What if we meet some alchemists on the road! We could exchange useful formulas!"

"Yeah!" Raps said dreamily "Oh, look!" She added suddenly "That cloud is just like a cat!"

"Wow! And look! That one's a flower!"

"And that looks like a horse!" said voice behind their back. Varian jumped and turned his head so fast his neck hurt. To his relief it was only Eugene, standing there, hands on hips and smirking.

"Hey! You did it on purpose!" Varian couldn't keep smile from his face. He was glad his friends were here.

"Did what?" innocently asked Eugene 

"Startled us!" 

"I did?" Varian glared at him playfully and Eugene exclaimed in fake fear "Okay, okay, sorry! Stop looking at me like that!"

They all started laughing, and laughed for a few minutes before stopping and falling in comfortable silence

"I'm gonna check how Cass is doing!" Rapunzel said finally and climbed on the roof

"I'm gonna go look after her! She's just like a child, needs supervision all the time!" With that Eugene climbed after Raps

Varian looked out of the window again and smiled when saw a cloud that looked like a girl with unnaturally long hair. He was still stressed and guilty for probably terrible stuff he did, - he couldn't been put in chains only because of taking some ancient flower, and people shouldn't look at him the way they do if stealing Sunflower was the only thing he did - but right now he felt better. 

"Hey!" Varian turned and saw Lance. He didn't know much about him. He met him a few times, but they never talked much. So he was surprised when he sat next to him and smiled.

"Hi...?"

"How's the mood?" Lance looked at clouds

"Good, actually!" Varian also looked at the sky

"Me too. I'm kinda excited! We will visit so many new places! So many people to steal from!" He said dreamily, and then added quickly with a tiny dramatically offended note to his voice "Not that I ever would do such thing, of course!"

"Yeah" Varian saddened a bit remembering his worries and fears.

They sat watching clouds for a bit. It wasn't like with Rapunzel, a fun time spent together, more like an excuse not to try finding topic for conversation. It wasn't a comfortable silence though. At least for Varian. He didn't know how to act around Lance since they hadn't spent much time together before now, so...

Their cloud-watching was interrupted by Cass angry yelling "Lance! Did you eat all the berries again?!" 

"I better go!" with these words Lance ran on the rooftop.

In the next second caravan stopped and Cass barged through the door "Where's Lance?" she barked at Varian who shrank into himself a little 

"I-I don't know!" He answered quickly. Varian didn't want to give away Lance, because he himself wouldn't want to be found by angry at him Cass under any circumstances ...except if he got kidnapped. Or injured and bleeding. Or lost without anything. Or- Stop!  His mind never helped him calm down.

Meanwhile Cassandra rolled her eyes and walked out of boy's section into girl's. After a minute - in which she probably checked every place Lance could possibly be hiding - caravan started moving again and Lance climbed down from the roof.

"Thanks, Goggles!"  he said and ruffled Varian's hair. Varian stiffened a little at that but Lance didn't notice and sat nearby. 

"What do you think Raps is doing?" Varian asked the first question that he could think of to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"As far as I know her, probably runs around, sings songs, and having Eugene chase her!" Lance smiled at something he imagined "I can totally see Raps taking him in a mud puddle and dirtying his hair!"

"Yeah... Imagine how angry Eugene would be!" Varian shuddered a little at the memory of Eugene looking at him with mix or anger, fear and protectiveness toward Raps when he woke up.

"Nah, he would forgive anything to Raps!" Lance chuckled "He changed so much since he was Flynn Rider! He was so much more... fun? I guess I can say that!" 

"Tell me more about his days being Flynn?" Varian said. He wanted to know Eugene better than he does now since he already knew Raps's and Cassandras's stories.

"Well... there is a story when we were both fifteen" Lance chuckled again "There was a Baron. He was, how to say it... 'king' in crime. He was really powerful, so powerful that if he said something to his people it will happen no matter what. And he had his most loyal 'friend', Anthony the Weasel"

"'The Weasel'?! Why 'Weasel'?" Varian said holding the laugh

"Well, we gave him this nickname!" Lance said proudly "We called him that and then it just stuck with him. And why? Hmm, probably because of his long nose and how sneaky he is! Anyway! We were young, reckless, sassy, master-thieves teenagers. And we were broke. Were searched for a solution, trying to rob popular bakeries and shops, but none of it ended well! We or ended up caught - and escaped after an hour - or stole a small amount of money which last us for a few days. And we started to lose hope and even thinking about trying taking a job - can you imagine it! - when Eugene had an idea! He offered to rob The Baron! I was really against it, but he convinced me, and so we did it! At night we broke into his manor, stalked down to the basement where we knew he kept all his values, lockpicked the lock, opened the door and walked straight to the meeting! Turned out we came into wrong door ! They captured Flynn, - I ran away - took all his lockpicks and I needed to rescue him! I still remind him of that sometimes! How famous Flynn Rider needed rescue! Also that's when he met his ex-girlfriend Stalyan"

"What a strange name!" Varian laughed a bit. He felt a little closer to Lance and felt like they could become pretty good friends with time.

Suddenly they heard Cass talking to Raps from outside "You've got to exercise at least some caution out here. Trust me, Raps, the real world isn't all fun and games!" Varian could almost see Cassandra's eyeroll and Raps sitting there and smiling like nothing happened

"That's my line!" Lance said quietly to Varian and in the blink of an eye he was on the roof saying "Next stop, Vardaros! City of fun and games!" 

Both laughed when Cassandra mumbled just loud enough for them to hear "I am so glad we decided to bring those two along!" 

"Oh, come on, Cass! Vardaros is an amazing city! You're gonna have fun... which I guess is a new thing for you!" Eugene added from the rooftop where he apparently climbed after washing the mud from his precious hair

"Come on, Pascal! It's our first big city outside of Corona!" Rapunzel spoke excitedly "You heard them, Cass, this is gonna be fun!"

They rode for a few more hours and to Varian's surprise he had a pretty fun talk with Lance! Man told him few more stories about Eugene, and promised to buy him few 'Flynnigan Rider' books, and Varian told him about his alchemy and 'hard-not-sticky-goo' he wants to make. Also he discovered that Lance is very interested in alchemy, and decided to teach him a bit. 

Hey! I know it was long, I'm sorry again! I don't really have excuses.

BUT I wrote you a scene for Warriors fan! No one asked for it buuuuuuut here you go!

I'm a Warriors fan myself, and I saw a potential in V/Raps cloud scene, so... well, here you go!

Anyway, see you next time, love you all!

ALSO!!! If you didn't read The Prophesies Begin (first series) 'till the end there are SPOILERS!!!

"Yeah!" Raps said dreamily "Oh, look! That cloud is just like a cat! And it's almost like he's on fire! And that's just like a star on his head!"

"Wow! Clouds can be almost magical sometimes!" Varian looked at the sky again "And look! That one's a tabby cat! And wow! That looks like a tiger behind him!"

"And that's just like a star on his head too! Just like the Fire one's! And wow! There is another cat! He's darker! And look, he has a cute white paw!"

"That's beautiful! An- oh my god! Did White-paw just killed Tiger?"

"I think so!" Raps placed a hand on her mouth in shock

They watched as White-paw killed the Fire-star, and how the star on Fire's head became a bit smaller before he shuddered, stood up and killed the white pawed one and how much more cats appeared and seemingly praised the Fire one.

"Those are the strangest clouds I ever saw" said Varian quietly still in deep deep shock

"Yeah" Said a voice behind them

Anyway again, see you next time, love you all!

[perenlop]

ash’s sinnoh team is so good (mostly) and im fond of the core six and then you look closer and you remember that only half of them were treated all that well

[toastedsmoreo]

not to be negative on main but jjk is pissing me off, man

[butnobodycame627]

brb gotta go murder god with my bare hands

[kithtaehyung]

minted (explicit) | myg

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

—

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And today is no different.

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

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

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

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

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

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

Another day. Another exchange.

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

After a while, you do try talking to him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

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

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

Taboo, even. 

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

“You always stare this long?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things. 

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

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

“What.” 

“I worry sometimes.” 

His gaze lifts. “About me?” 

“Yeah.” 

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

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

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

Someone like him? What does that mean? 

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

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

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

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

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

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

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

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

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

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

Here it goes again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it’s done.

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry.” 

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

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

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

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

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.” 

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

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

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

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

At least they seem to be more fair.

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

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

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

Still so odd…

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

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

By none other than your favorite set of hands.  

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

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

“Course I don’t.” 

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

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

“Don’t sweat it.” 

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

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

What the hell is up with today? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. 

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

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

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

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

And he looks impatient as hell. 

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

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

Silence has never been so booming.

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

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

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

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

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

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

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

Oh. 

Why did… you kinda like that? 

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.” 

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

“Always took you for a good girl.”

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

Yoongi. 

For a hardened soul, his name is so… 

Tender. 

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

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi. 

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

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

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

Left seems promising. 

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

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

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

Find a meal.

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

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

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

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

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

Always facing the entrance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ambiance. 

Wait. 

Dragons. A lot of them. 

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

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

…Yoongi? 

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

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

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

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

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

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

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

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

And just like that, your reunion is over. 

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An inhale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

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

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

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

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

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

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

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

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

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

What do you do? What even can you do? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luckiest timing of your life. 

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

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

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

This one thing… 

…

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.” 

“Excuse me?” 

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

“You shouldn’t be up here.” 

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

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

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

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

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

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

…Are you?

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

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

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

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

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

“I—I didn’t mean to—” 

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

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

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

Live with it. How poetic. 

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

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.” 

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

“What?” 

“Do it.” 

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

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

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

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

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

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

This is going too well. 

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

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

But suddenly.

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

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

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

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

Yoongi’s right. 

You’re in it now. 

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

You’re really doing this. 

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

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

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

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

“Get back here!” 

“You fuckers!”

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

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

He’s grinning.

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

And he’s… enjoying this? 

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!” 

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

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

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?” 

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

“Then keep up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me.” 

“I said get out!” 

“What?” 

“Come here.” 

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

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

Oh. 

You were just… Oh. 

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

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

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

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.” 

…Huh? 

Agust? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that. 

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

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

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you both really make it this far? 

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

Rest. Sleep. Home. 

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

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

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

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

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?” 

“No.” 

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

“Good girl.”

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

Right? 

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

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

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

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for? 

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

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

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

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

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

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

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

Han Station is a floating railway? 

Holy shit, where are you?

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

“Come on!”

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

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

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

“No!”

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

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

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

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

“Agust!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like that.

You made it out.

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

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe. 

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

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

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

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

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

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

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

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

“Quiet.”

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

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

Your tangerines… 

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

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

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

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

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

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

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off? 

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

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

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

“We’ll stay here.” 

We? Stay? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mm. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

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

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

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

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

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

“Understood.” 

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

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

…Who exactly did you save? 

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

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

Right before sliding doors shut the world out. 

—

—

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

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

[illyrianbitch]

Winner

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: You and Azriel are both sore losers. But when you cheat in a game of cards, winning takes on a whole new meaning.

Warnings: alcohol mention, two competitive losers, a card game, a makeout, some wandering hands & fluff!!

Word Count: 4.6k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Cassian threw his hands up in defeat, letting out a deep groan as he fell back further into the couch— wings sprawled out, spine slumped. He turned his head to Mor.

“Looks like Az and Y/N beat us again.”

She only groaned in response, rubbing her face with her hands before running them through her hair— taking a moment to smooth it down and tuck a few loose locks behind her pointed ears. 

 “You guys are relentless,” she said in disbelief, “I’m out. You two can have the winner's title.”

You and Azriel exchanged a look— a quick, almost instinctual, response. 

“No way.” You shook your head with a frown. “We can’t both be winners.”

From beside you, Azriel nodded. The movement was eager in agreement, but the alcohol in his body caused his motions to be slower than usual, sluggish, and Mor raised her eyebrow in response. 

“One more game,” he said, eyes tracking between both Mor and Cassian. “Just to settle this properly.”

But Mor only raised her hands in surrender. “Dear gods, no,” she responded, “I’m way too drunk for this.” 

You let out a small sound of disapproval but Morrigan ignored it, turning to give Cassian one last look of retreat before she stood up— unsteadily and disoriented. “Good luck with your showdown. I’m going to bed.”

Azriel gave her a scowl, a look that she matched with another brow raise. With no verbal response given, she turned to offer Cassian an outstretched hand. “You smell like a bar. It’s bedtime for you too, I would say.”

Cassian stilled, staring at her extended hand in a moment of contemplation. His eyes darted towards where you sat next to Azriel—meeting your gaze momentarily before jumping back to Azriel. His lips pursed, eyes narrowing for a second before he seemed to draw a conclusion and his face relaxed. 

“Yup,” he said with a decisive clap of his hands on his thighs. He pushed himself up and grabbed Mor's hand. "I'm outta here. I still have a fun buzz and Az's seriousness is going to kill it."

You let out a small sigh, lips falling into a frown as Cassian met your gaze once more. "Come on, Cass, just going to give up like that?"

He gave you an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, Y/N. You two can fight amongst yourselves.”

“She can't,” Azriel began as he turned to look at you. Something sparkled in his hazel eyes and the corners of his lips twitched into the ghost of a smirk. “The only reason she plays so great is because you two make her look better with how awful you are at this game.”

Your mouth fell open and an offended scoff left your mouth. You smacked his bicep. "That is not true."

Mor chimed in, "Yeah—we aren't that bad."

It was Cassian who responded with a raised eyebrow at her. She scowled at the gesture. 

“Whatever,” she muttered, waving him off with a casual hand as she began walking away. “It’s bedtime."

“Night.” Cassian gave you and Azriel a lazy salute as he stumbled towards the exit. “May the best competitor win.”

You both watched as they left the room, emitting subtle groans as the weight of their drinks began to manifest in their bodies. When their figures disappeared from view, you and Azriel brought your gazes to one another at the same moment, eyes narrowing in on the other. The room quieted around you. 

“I know I can win,” you said, straightening yourself, “I’ll show you.”

Azriel stared at you for a moment, eyes darting around your face before holding your gaze again. A smile grew on his face— confident and slightly lopsided, and his shadows swirled slightly around him in response. “Alright. Let’s keep going.”

You hummed as you cleared the table from the previous game, grabbing a deck of cards and setting the scene for Speed— the perfect game for a winners victory. It required quick reflexes and sharp focus. 

You threw a glance at Azriel, whose eyes were already on you. This felt like a routine. 

Azriel was extremely competitive. He made everything a competition, whether it needed to be or not. Who could get somewhere the fastest, who could get Cassian to say a specific phrase first. And out of everyone, you were the one able to match that energy the most. 

You knew you were competitive. It wasn't something you tried to hide—not that you could. And when you were around Az, it tended to come out the most. But on nights like these, drinking and playing card games, it seemed to come out even more, like a monster at night feeling the strength of the full moon. Except the monster was your inability to accept defeat and the moon, in this case, was the glass of wine you had downed alongside Mor.

Your eyes shot to the empty glass of whisky Azriel had nursed before smirking at him.

“Ready?” 

Azriel's expression turned serious and he nodded slightly, the movement tousling a loose strand of hair on his forehead. You found yourself momentarily distracted by it before quickly snapping your attention back to his intense gaze.

"You sure you’re up for this?" he teased, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "Last time, I seem to recall you complaining about my unfair advantage."

You rolled your eyes. "Unfair advantage, my ass. Just because you have shadows whispering in your ear doesn’t mean you’re unbeatable."

Azriel chuckled and his eyes gleamed with the sound, something bright and warm, golden like honey. "We'll see about that."

With a final shuffle, you placed the deck between you. "I’ll start.”

You began the game, cards flying between you as you tried to outpace each other. Your fingers moved swiftly, eyes darting between the cards and Azriel’s focused face. 

"Is that all you've got?" you teased, slapping down a card.

Azriel gave a low, deep chuckle. "Just getting started."

You matched each of his moves with your own, feeling your competitive fire burning bright within you, a simmering, insatiable adrenaline that made your heart beat faster. The sound of cards slapping against the table echoed through the room, mingling with your rapid breaths and the occasional muttered curse. You bit your lip, tightening the hold on your card.

"You’re slowing down," Azriel taunted in a melodic, light tone. You could hear the grin in his voice and you resisted the urge to look over at him. 

"Wrong," you shot back, eyes darting to the next card. “I’m just giving you a chance to catch up.” 

He snorted beside you, a sound so casual and childish that you bit back a laugh at it. He scooted closer to the table, moving forward to place another card, his arm brushing against yours in the process. 

It only took that one movement for you to become acutely aware of the closeness between you, of the heat of his body radiating into yours. Each time he grabbed or placed a card, the sensation built, sending a nervous flutter through you— a flutter too strong to be attributed to the alcohol alone. His shadows brushed against your skin and you bit back a shiver. 

You tried to ignore it, focusing on the game, but his scent—dark and intoxicating—kept pulling you back in, his body continuing to brush against yours—his knee, his arm—each touch subtle yet electrifying as he drew his hand back.

You briefly considered moving away to regain your composure, but the thought of disrupting your flow and losing concentration on the game held you in place. Then Azriel moved again, placing another card down, and you found yourself fixating on his fingers more than the card itself. The card faded into a white blur against the dark wood table as you stared at the ridges of his scarred hands, his slender fingers, his tan skin— they were attractive. Real attractive.

Azriel was attractive. This was a fact. And if you were being honest to yourself, you always harbored a crush on him—- though, you'd never acted on it, even if there were times where you could've sworn he felt something for you, too. You were good friends, great friends. You never dared to think about it too much. There was no use in entertaining unrealistic ideas. 

But Azriel looked even more attractive now—laid back, hair tousled, cheeks tinged with an alcohol flush, shadows stilled, and determination set in his grin.

You blinked.

"What the hell am I doing?" you muttered under your breath.

Az turned to you. "What?" 

"Huh?" you responded, feigning innocence, but Azriel narrowed his eyes, scanning your face intently.

"What did you say?" 

"Nothing," you replied quickly, trying to regain your composure. Azriel’s gaze steadied on yours, probing and assuming.

"You seem distracted."

“Me? No. I don't get distracted," you asserted, straightening yourself and sizing him up. Azriel raised a brow, a small smirk playing on his lips.

"No?"

"No.”

He leaned back slightly, his smirk widening.

"Then why are you losing?" he asked casually.

Your eyes widened as you snapped your head to the table, a movement so swift and abrupt that a dull ache pulled at the base of your neck. Sure enough, you were losing. Az was one card— two if you were lucky— away from a clean victory. You ran your tongue along your teeth, forcing a smile as you tossed a glance back at him. 

"It's part of the plan.”

"Right,” Azriel quipped, the amusement seeping through his dimpled grin. “The plan to lose?”

That competitive fire flared within you. Damned him and that smile— that arrogant, smug smile. You couldn't let him win so easily, couldn't let him win at all. You rolled your eyes. 

"Are we gabbing like old ladies or are we playing?" 

He raised a brow but pulled himself even further to you. “Neither,” he murmured, “I’m winning.”

You gave him a mocking smile as he placed his next card, falling into another quick-paced round. You were bound to lose— a reality that had begun to manifest right before your eyes, solidifying with every card Azriel placed down. 

You needed to see his cards to strategize, to figure out your next move. But Azriel was laser-focused, his determination etched into his features like details in a finely crafted statue. Each time he brushed against you, a subtle heat ran through your skin. You stilled, shifting your gaze to his face. 

"Oh, Az, wait," you murmured softly. He glanced at you, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you leaned closer to him. Bringing your lip between your teeth, you bit down on it lightly to contain your growing smirk, voice softening as you continued, "You have something."

Azriel frowned and you seized your opportunity, bringing your hands to his face and lightly brushing the corner of his mouth with your thumb. It was a feigned gesture, as if you were wiping away a crumb or a smear of chocolate from the pastries you all had enjoyed earlier that evening. 

There was nothing there, of course, but it served your purpose well.

You made sure to let your thumb linger there for a moment, to brush the pad of your finger against his lips as you pulled back. You held his gaze— a burning, deep hazel. His eyes danced across your face and you watched as he swallowed hard. A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of your lips but you fought it away, letting your hand fall down. 

You stole a quick glance at his cards before you leaned back, casually examining your own cards as you pretended to ponder your next move. He remained still beside you and you ignored the flutter in your ribcage, the strange, trickling sense of excitement that filled your gut. 

You placed your final card down on the table, the sharp snap of it breaking the momentary silence. Azriel snapped out of his reverie and looked down at the cards, then up at you. You leaned into him once more, a playful grin now tugging at your lips— smug and confident. "Speed," you declared confidently.

He blinked and shook his head slightly as he leaned in further to the table, examining the cards laid out before him. 

"Looks like I win.”

He dropped his cards onto the table and his gaze shot up to meet yours.

"You cheated.” 

You leaned back slightly, a mock hurt expression crossing your features. "I did not.”

Pointing an accusatory finger in your face, Azriel's voice grew firmer. "You're a cheater." 

You swatted his finger away, feeling the brush of his shadows swirling around it. "Get your finger out of my face.”

Azriel looked down, seemingly addressing his shadows in a murmured aside, before his gaze returned to yours. 

"It's not my fault you were so distracted," you teased, goading him with a sly glance.

"You distracted me!" 

Casting a nonchalant glance to the side, you shrugged casually. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, leaning back into the couch with a playful grin. "You're just mad I won."

"No, you didn't win," Azriel insisted, his jaw tightening in determination. “Because you're a cheater.”

Waving him off dismissively, you rolled your eyes. "There's that word again. Blaming me because you were distracted is such a sore loser move, dude." 

“Dude.” Azriel scoffed.  "You'd be pissed if I did the same thing.”

You innocently shrugged again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I would never get so distracted.”

He raised a brow and a sense of challenge flickered across his face. “No?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

It was a flat, bolstering lie. You knew it well. A simple brush against you had you so distracted that you nearly lost. And gods, does he look good like this, flustered, focused entirely on you. His furrowed brow, the intensity in his eyes—it was all so alluring. Some being, some butterfly must be trapped in your chest because the fluttering deep within your ribs intensified. 

Azriel didn’t move, his eyes scanning you in a manner that made you itch— made you feel naked and completely bare before him. 

"Don’t move," Azriel said, his voice low and teasing. You felt it against your skin like it was something tangible. "I think you... you have something here."

He leaned in closer, bringing his hand to your face, fingers poised to wipe the corner of your mouth just as you had done to him earlier. The movement was slow, sensual almost, and your heart nearly stopped when his eyes moved from your lips to your eyes. 

You held your breath and the corners of Azriel’s lips twitched. 

"Oh, nevermind," he murmured, withdrawing his hand. "Guess I'm seeing things."

You traced the path of that lip twitch, watching as it grew into a subtle, sly grin. The game had shifted now and Azriel seemed to think he was in the lead— seemed content in his victory. 

Absolutely not.

You let out a small hum. 

“Aw, Az,” you said, softening your face at him. You brought a hand to his bicep— he was dressed casually tonight, a simple black, short-sleeved shirt adorning his frame. His eyes widened slightly at your boldness but he didn't pull away. You placed your palm on his exposed skin, tracing a light, delicate path up his arm. “Always so thoughtful.”

He tensed underneath your touch, and his shadows curled over his shoulders, still and curious, peering down at the motion. Goosebumps ran along his skin and you felt him shudder underneath you, an almost imperceptible reaction. 

When you met his gaze again, Azriel’s eyes were molten. A muscle feathered in his cheek.

You gave into your urge, delicately brushing a small strand of hair away from his forehead and tucking it back into place. In truth, it felt like an excuse to touch him, to feel the softness of his hair beneath your fingertips. You heard a quiet, sharp intake of breath as his shadows moved slowly around his shoulders, watching your every move just as precisely as he did. 

“Well,” he said, and the sound came out as a croak. He cleared his throat as he brought his hand up to yours, wrapping it around your wrist as he lowered your hand with his own. “I’m thoughtful when it comes to you.”

His words didn’t feel like they were said only to get under your skin, nor did they seem like words chosen merely to rile you up—they felt like a confession. You fought to balance your reaction as you felt yourself being pulled in three different directions.

His words made you melt in a strange, almost pathetic way. They felt tender, caring, and you thought about how true they actually were, how much Azriel cared for you, and how often he made that care known. It was one of the reasons you liked him as much as you did, why it was so easy and comfortable being around him, why you felt so emboldened to distract him, to play with him, in such a manner that you did.

But then there was another emotion, a spitfire of competition that felt as if he had exposed a very vulnerable, very delicate nerve. That he was winning this game, that you were so openly affected by simple words and his hand around your wrist.

And finally, there was something else, something as strong as those flutters, something warm and hot that filled you with an urge to run your fingers through his hair, to pull him against you and feel those hands somewhere else. 

You scanned his face, watching as his expression seemed to soften a bit, as a crease formed between his brows. He was thinking too—deeply, intently, thoroughly thinking. It was almost the same look he wore in every game when he was strategizing, but this felt more intimate, more charged. You tried to reel yourself in, tried to throw every thought away and pull your mind together, fix your scent, your posture.

But then his eyes dropped to your lips.

Your heartbeat quickened and something fluttered in your chest, deep within your ribs— that damned caught, trapped butterfly moving in a frenzy. Your eyes dropped down to Azriel’s lips, and when you met his eyes again, he mirrored your actions. You took in the dark, thick lashes that adorned his eyes—lashes that you were able to see so clearly as he looked down towards you, towards your mouth.

The next moment was a blur. You weren't sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours. They were warm and soft and swallowed you completely— mind and body. 

His taste was intoxicating, a blend of the whiskey he had been drinking and something uniquely him. There had been small fantasies of Azriel that had creeped past your restraint over the years— images and thoughts about his lips and how he mustve felt pressed against you, how he fucked the countless women you’d seen him with.

Even this simple, heated and frenzied kiss was better than your most detailed dreams. 

You felt his hand slide up to cradle your face, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek as he deepened the kiss. Your own hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you leaned into him. 

This felt better than any win you’d ever experienced.

You needed to cheat more often.

You pulled away for a brief second, gasping for breath, but the separation was short-lived. His eyes, dark and filled with a desire that mirrored your own, locked onto yours before he captured your lips once more. This time, the kiss was hungrier, more urgent. Azriel's hand slipped to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilted your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His hands— those large, rough, and beautiful hands— roamed, one staying at your neck while the other slid down your back, drawing you even closer.

The world narrowed to just this moment—  to the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, the way his hands felt on your skin. His hands guided you, and before you realized it, you were laying down on the couch, Azriel hovering over you, his lips never leaving yours. His body pressed against yours and his shadows threaded through the strands of your hair, the silky, air-light touch of their movement contrasting with the warmth of his skin— a heady mix that sent shivers down your spine.

He broke the kiss, lips trailing down your jawline, planting soft kisses along the way. You felt a deep, thrilling ache as he kissed the sensitive skin there and you tilted your head back, giving him better access as your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch. You circled the base of his wings, admiring how they stretched out above you, and he shivered under the touch, leaving a small playful bite on your neck in response.

“Finally!" 

A heat of panic ran down your skin and you pushed yourself upright— a movement so quick that it sent Azriel falling back onto his side of the loveseat. You caught a brief glimpse of him—disheveled, lips swollen, breathing heavy—before your gaze snapped to the intruder.

Cassian stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

"What?" you managed to gasp, your own breath coming in shallow pants.

“This.” Cassian pointed a finger between you and Azriel. "Fucking finally."

You casted a glance at Azriel who stared at his brother with a single raised brow. 

“How long have you been standing out there, Cass?" He asked.

Cassian shrugged, still grinning. "Long enough.”

“A bit too long, actually,” Mor’s voice rang out as she rounded the corner, now adorned in a comfortable sleep set. She settled into a stand next to Cassian, offering a small, sheepish smile. “I was starting to feel like a pervert.”

You cringed, a heat flushing your cheeks as you glanced over at Azriel, who met your gaze immediately. But he only sighed, running a hand through his hair as a lone shadow moved down the couch to wrap around your ankle. You ignored the skip of your heart.

"That's real weird, guys," you said.

Just a semblance of dignity is all you asked for.

Cassian waved it off. "Trust me, I've seen more than a handsy makeout with Az."

You grimaced, scrunching your face in distaste. Mor gave Cassian a pointed look. "Cassian—"

He shrugged, unperturbed. "I gotta admit, though, I didn't think we could get you to go that far. I thought maybe a realization—but holy shit!"

Mor’s eyes widened and she smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "Cassian!"

You threw a glance at Azriel but he didn't meet your gaze this time. Instead, he sat up straighter, his eyes narrowing at his brother. It was both unnerving and incredibly attractive—oh gods, focus.

You sat up straighter. "What do you mean you could get us that far?"

Cassian gave an unsure smile before responding, "Oh, you know, just a friendly little push." He looked at Mor, who looked equally guilty but offered you a sheepish, dimpled smile. 

"We were just trying to help you two along.”

Cassian pointed a thumb at her. "Her reasons are selfless, mine are selfish. I just couldn't deal anymore. It's like shoving two dolls together and making them kiss." 

He brought his hands up, mimicking the motion of holding two dolls and repeatedly mashed them together while making loud, exaggerated kissing sounds. Mor watched him with an unamused, scrunched face. 

You furrowed your brows and opened your mouth to talk, but Cassian cut you off, falling into a tipsy ramble.

 "I didn't anticipate how much we needed to drink, though. I thought I was going to get alcohol poisoning before you even touched."

Mor rolled her eyes. "Alright, that's a bit dramatic—"

"It is not," Cassian interrupted, turning to her.

"We barely—"

“You call that barely?”

"—We had one bottle—"

"-— A family-sized—"

You exchanged a glance with Azriel, eyebrows slightly raised, lips twitching with barely suppressed smiles. His eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and mirth as Cassian and Mor continued their bickering. Leaning back, you extended your hand toward the shadow near your feet. 

Azriel groaned. "Guys—" 

They kept talking.

"Guys!" 

They finally stopped and turned to face him, the room plunging into an awkward silence. Azriel sighed deeply, then said, "Get out. Please."

Mor's eyes widened. "Right! Sorry," she said, giving you a sheepish smile. Cassian, however, turned to you with a grin. 

"You're welcome," he said, and then turned to Azriel, winking. "You're extra welcome."

Mor scoffed, pushing Cassian out of the room. She turned around as she left, flashing you another smile and giving you two thumbs up. You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, and your fingers tightened around the shadow on your hand.

When they disappeared from view, you exhaled deeply and turned towards Azriel. His gaze softened as he looked at you and the corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. The room felt quieter now, more intimate, and your heartbeat began to slow—  the fluttering in your chest giving way to a warm, steady pulse.

He let out a breath. “Well, that was..." 

"Something," you finished for him.

You locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter, the sound echoing throughout the room. 

"I love your laugh," Azriel murmured, his voice low and intimate.

You went breathless, the last note of your laughter leaving your tightened chest in a whisper. 

"Yeah?" 

A flutter filled your chest. 

He nodded and your smile widened as he edged closer, his hand gently cupping your face once more, drawing you to him. 

“They interrupted us," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours.

You swallowed and your cheeks flushed subtly with a blush as you leaned further towards him.

"What a shame," you murmured back, your words a soft invitation.

"A shame indeed." 

Without any further hesitation, his lips found yours again. The kiss was filled with an undeniable urgency—a promise and longing that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long. You melted into the sensation, every nerve ending electrified by the closeness, by the brush of his shadows against your skin.

He pulled away for a second, his breath warm against your lips.

"You were really good at that game, by the way."

You frowned.  "I was losing. Badly."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he shook his head. "Not originally. I was."

His thumb circled gently along your cheek. "But who knew all it took was a couple of brushes against your arm to get ahead again."

Your eyes widened in shock and you let out a small gasp, pulling back further to observe his face in full.  He met your gaze with a smug smirk, and despite yourself, a grin of impressed disbelief spread across your face.  

"You dirty little cheat!" you exclaimed, half in playful protest, half in genuine admiration.

He shrugged nonchalantly, his touch still caressing your cheek. "I'd say it worked out."

“Does this mean I win—" 

He cut you off softly, "Just let me kiss you."

Your protest melted away into a sigh of surrender as he closed the gap between you eagerly. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, falling lax in his touch as he moved to hover you again. The world around you faded into insignificance. 

You definitely won tonight. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

idk why but this is one of my favorite lil moments ive written, it gave me butterflies writing it (i am touchstarved and a sore loser)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

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[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Frat!Jason Todd who was Vice President of Epsilon Theta Alpha. He had joined the frat when he was a freshmen and even though his rough and tough demeanour suggested otherwise, he was probably one of the most rule-abiding of the frat. But just because he was rule abiding didn’t mean he wasn’t an arrogant little shit

Frat!Jason Todd who began dating you literally a month into freshman year. He waved off your concerns that freshman relationships never lasted and promised then and there in the dining hall that he would put a ring on your finger the moment they threw their caps at graduation

Frat!Jason Todd who knew what he wanted and wasn’t going to let something as simple as ‘not knowing you for long’ get in his way

Frat!Jason Todd who brought you around the frat house so much that you became an integral part. Dick Grayson, the President of Epsilon Theta Alpha, even began to think of you as a sister

Frat!Jason Todd who loved how your relationship grew throughout the years. It didn’t matter if it was freshman year or senior year, he stayed by your side religiously and loved you all the same

Frat!Jason Todd who would get grumpy when he couldn’t see you for a while and everyone in the frat noticed it

Frat!Jason Todd who, for example, stayed at university during winter break freshman year and just pouted and whined the entire time. He called you every day, even though, at that point, you two had only been together a month or two

Frat!Jason Todd who was so relieved when you returned to campus and the next year (and every year after) you would take him home to spend the holidays with you and your family to save yourself from the grumpy boyfriend he would become when separated from you

Frat!Jason Todd who was very proud that your family loved him and he always returned back to the frat ladened with leftovers and sweets

Frat!Jason Todd who was also pretty big on working out. You had been hesitant at first, because of the stereotypical gym bros, but you soon came to appreciate his physique

Frat!Jason Todd who cajoled you into laying either on his back or under him whenever he was doing push ups. If he wanted you to lay on top of him, it was always, “but baby, I need a challenge. Push ups just aren’t doing it anymore. And if I have my darling girlfriend laying on me, then I get snuggles and a workout.” Sometimes, you read while feeling his muscles bend and contract underneath you as he worked, but other times you just held on and pressed lazy kisses to his skin. Whenever he wanted you to lay under him, there was never much complaining from you. You happily laid on the floor and gave him a quick kiss every time he descended. “Love you,” you would mutter and he would grin and reply with his own love

Frat!Jason Todd who also loved to play wrestle. Neither of you ever knew how it would start, but you would find yourself giggling and trying to tackle Jason on the floor. Of course, he would likely let you win, but there were always a couple of times when he would just flip you over and let out a pretend roar before smothering you with kisses

Frat!Jason Todd who didn’t mind that the play wrestling usually ended in hickeys and love bites

Frat!Jason Todd who wasn’t as much of a book nerd as other variants. He maybe was an English minor, but not a major. Whether that was just because he felt as if a frat guy shouldn’t be an English major, or he just preferred his major (pre-law), no one really knew. Jason confessed to you one night, late freshman year, that he wanted to go into law to help those who were growing up like he did. He wanted to fight against big corporations that kept kids confined to Crime Alley and he wanted to fight for the mothers and fathers who were getting swindled out of their homes

Frat!Jason Todd who much preferred to stay up in his room with you then go down to the party raging on the first floor of the frat. It had become a routine: lock the door (you two had learned that the hard way after a wayward couple barged in one time looking for a place to bang. Jason had promptly kicked them out with some well placed swearing and slammed the door behind them), fill the popcorn bowl, and settle in with a movie

Frat!Jason Todd who, however, every once in a while, would venture downstairs with you under his arm and indulge in a little partying. He would pour you a tiny amount of alcohol into a cup if you wished, but never drank a drop himself. Even if he was part of a frat, he was still the same Jason with the brutal memories of parents who hit or screamed when inflicted by alcohol. That didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy a bit of beer or wine in private with you, but he wanted to stay vigilant around others who were drunk

Frat!Jason Todd who’s favourite thing to do at parties was dance. More specifically, watch you dance. He would stay right next to you, holding your hands or your hips as you sang along to the music. His eyes would never leave you, trailing up and down your body along with his hands. Another activity he liked whenever there was a party was to crowd you into a corner, arms braced by your head and just make out. He loved that bit of voyeurism, but would never take it farther than kisses when it came to you. He was incredibly protective and didn’t want to share you with anyone else

Frat!Jason Todd who was a very inconsistent lover. Let’s explain: he clearly loved you a lot and had told you a million times over. He wanted to pleasure you as such, so sometimes he took his sweet time with you that left you very impatient. Other times, however, he saw a guy checking you out and couldn’t help but bruise your hips as his slammed his own into you later that night

Frat!Jason Todd who, nonetheless, expressed his love in any way he could. Unbeknownst to you, he had bought a ring over the summer of sophomore and junior year and kept it locked in the top drawer of his nightstand

Frat!Jason Todd who, true to his promise, instead of throwing his cap at graduation, had found you in the crowd and immediately got down on one knee

Frat!Jason Todd who was crying when you said yes

[hoshifighting]

     woozi + accidental stimulation

— wrestling session with your bestfriend!jihoon goes “wrong” when he accidentally uses your sensitive spot to knock you out.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, “fight” sensitive neck, dry humping, moaning, neck biting, fingering, doggy style, hair pulling, brief blowjob, oral [f. receiving], messy make out.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it was just another lazy afternoon with jihoon—your best friend for god knows how long, the one who knew exactly how to annoy you without really trying. the sun was spilling through the curtains, casting lazy, golden light on the couch where you two had been for hours now, pretending to care about the second movie you picked. it was boring as hell, but it was an excuse to hang out and mess around like always.

jihoon sits next to you, half-distracted, his arms loosely crossed, eyes half-lidded like he’s about to pass out from boredom.

your legs were sprawled across his lap for the past half hour.

“this movie sucks,” you say, yawning without covering your mouth. before you even finish, jihoon’s finger is already pressing against your lips, making you flinch and shove his hand away.

“don’t yawn like that,” he mumbles, a smirk tugging at his lips. “rude.”

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smirking, leaning over to jab him in the side, just under his ribs—his weak spot. his whole body jolts as he twists away from you, that adorable flinch he always does making you snicker. as he lets out an annoyed grunt. “don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“oh please, i finish everything,” you teased, but the movie was getting too dull and the wrestling was way more interesting, anyway. it was like a daily ritual—one of you would start messing with the other until it escalated into full-on play-fighting.

it took about five seconds before jihoon decided enough was enough and tackled you sideways. you yelped as he pushed you back into the cushions, his weight pressing down, one of his hands grabbing at your wrist to pin it above your head. “what did i just say?” he taunted, eyes glinting as he straddled your waist, keeping you down just enough to make it a challenge.

“you suck,” you managed between laughs, trying to wiggle free, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. with a twist of your hips, you somehow managed to roll him over onto his back, both of you collapsing into a heap of limbs and laughter. jihoon let out a loud groan when you climbed on top of him, your knees pressed on either side of his waist.

“you know i always win,” you grinned down at him, breathless, as you pinned both his arms above his head, a smug smile pulling at your lips.

“only ‘cause you cheat,” jihoon muttered, his voice slightly strained from trying not to laugh. you could see his eyes narrow, a playful look flashing across his face, and before you had time to process it, he tilted his head, and bit down your neck to scare you.

you felt your entire body freeze, your grip on his wrists faltering for a split second, the sensation is sharper than it should be, the sound that escapes your mouth isn’t just a reaction...

it’s a moan.

your thighs tremble, knees still locked on either side of his waist, but they give just enough for you to sink down, pressing directly onto his lap. his breath catches, and you both freeze.

“you—” he starts, but his voice falters, turning into a nervous laugh, one that vibrates through your body because of how close you are. “i didn’t mean… shit…”

“i—” your voice is breathy, the thin fabric of your shorts doing absolutely nothing to stop the heat between your legs from meeting the growing hardness beneath you. it’s accidental—completely accidental—but you feel everything.

jihoon goes rigid beneath you, his arms still pinned above his head, but his eyes darken, his chest rising and falling a little quicker now. “did you just—”

“right,” you say, but your voice sounds breathy, way too affected for someone trying to play it off. you should pull away, but your body doesn’t cooperate.

his hips shift beneath you, making the volume of his cock hump on you. you bite your lip hard, trying to steady yourself, but it's useless. the friction is too much, and when you grind down ever so slightly—just to readjust—you both groan at the same time.

“fuck, stop moving—” jihoon hisses, but there’s no real anger in his voice, just this strained, breathy sound that makes your head spin.

“you bit me, it’s your fault,” you shoot back, your voice shaky. but you’re not moving off him either. you could, but something in the way his fingers flex against your hold, the way his eyes flicker between yours and your lips, keeps you there.

your hands tighten their hold on his arms, keeping him pinned, and you’re both so still, so aware of the closeness now.

“you can let go, you know,” he murmurs, but there’s no urgency in his voice. he doesn’t try to get up. his eyes flick to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes, and your heart stumbles again.

“you started it,” you whispered, your voice barely steady, your body betraying the playful act you’d been putting up. your pulse quickened, your hips rocking again, and this time, neither of you pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

“if—you—” but he couldn’t finish the sentence, not when your hips kept moving like that, drawing small, helpless sounds from both of you.

the friction between your bodies makes your mind blank for a second, and you swear you feel him tense beneath you, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

“if you’re gonna keep doing that—” jihoon mutters. “i’m not sure i can stay still.”

for a second you wonder if you’ve ever felt anything this intense. you’re breathing hard, chest pressed against his, and his lips are so close to yours now, you can practically feel the heat of his breath.

“fuck... are we really doing this?” his voice is raspy, and his eyes search yours, looking for an answer you don’t even have yet.

but the heat pooling in your stomach says enough, and you both know it.

your breath is still ragged, his cock pressing up against you as you settle into the friction. you haven’t even kissed him yet, and already it’s way too much. the second you grind down on him again, his hips jerk up into you. it’s not even subtle anymore. jihoon lets out this strangled groan, one arm free now as he grips your waist like he’s barely holding himself back.

you don’t even know how it gets to this point—just that you’re suddenly on all fours on the couch, knees digging into the cushions, your breath catching in your throat as his hands smooth down your back, stopping at your ass and squeezing like he’s wanted to do this for years.

"not even a kiss?" you tease, twisting your head back just enough to catch his eye, and jihoon looks at you. he doesn't respond, just slides one hand up your waist and over your shoulder, guiding you back so you're flush against him.

he leans in close, his lips brushing over your neck, the heat of his breath making your skin prickle. "you want a kiss?" he murmurs, his voice so soft it almost doesn’t fit with the way he's palming your ass, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shorts to graze the bare skin.

“yeah,” you whisper, but it comes out a little breathless, like you're already losing your edge. you’re too turned on to keep teasing, but the second his lips press against yours, you’re gone.

he kisses you slow at first, letting it build, his tongue flicking against yours, and it’s filthy. jihoon deepens it, sucking on your bottom lip before his tongue tangles with yours again, wet and messy, a mix of moans and spit. you’re gripping him, your nails digging into his skin, and he pulls you impossibly closer, chest pressed against your back as his tongue moves against yours in a way that makes your whole body tense up.

“fuck—jihoon,” you moan into his mouth, and he just groans in response, gripping your waist with both hands now, flipping you over so fast your head spins.

“on all fours,” he says, his voice rough, and you barely have time to process before you feel his hands pushing you up, your knees sinking into the couch again, ass in the air. his hands slide down your sides, one gripping your waist and the other tracing over the curve of your ass.

his fingers slide under the hem of your shorts, yanking them down, panties pulled with them. there’s nothing gentle in the way he does it, and that’s exactly what you want.

“fuck, jihoon—” you manage to get out, but your voice cuts off in a moan as he slides two fingers between your legs, finding how wet you already are—and god, those fingers always called your attention. he hisses through his teeth, his fingers slick as they dip inside you, stretching you instantly.

"you’re soaked already," he says, more of a statement than a question, and you bite your lip hard because you can't deny it. you press back against his hand, needing more, and he doesn't waste time. his fingers pump inside you faster, curling just right, making you tremble, thighs shaking.

you moan, the sound escaping before you can even stop it, and it only urges him on. his free hand comes down, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you back slightly so your back arches deeper. the sharp pull ships hot air through you, and fuck, it feels so good you can barely think.

“jihoon—” you gasp again, legs already feeling weak, the pressure building in your stomach from his fingers driving in and out of you at a merciless pace. he’s relentless, thumb brushing against your clit just to make it worse. you whimper, body shaking under his touch, and you can hear him curse under his breath behind you.

“god, i’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he growls, yanking his fingers out of you suddenly, and the emptiness makes you whine. but before you can complain, he’s shoving your knees apart wider, positioning himself between them. his hands grip your hips, pulling you back towards his face, and then you feel it—his mouth on you.

the first swipe of his tongue over your clit makes your entire body jolt, and you cry out, fingers clutching the couch cushions hard. he doesn’t give you a second to adjust, his mouth working you over, tongue sliding through your folds, lips sucking on your clit until you're practically shaking.

you rock back against him, desperate for more, hips moving on their own, and he groans into you, the sound vibrating through your sopping cunt. he licks you like he’s starving for it.

“fuck—jihoon, i’m—” you can barely get the words out, the pleasure building so quickly it makes your head spin. you’re close, too close, but before you can even get there, he pulls away, leaving you panting, so fucking close to falling apart.

“not yet,” he mutters, his voice dark and rough, and then you feel him again—this time, the head of his cock pressing against you.

you’re so wet it’s easy for him to push in, but the stretch still makes you gasp. he doesn’t give you a second to adjust, thrusting in deep, filling you completely in one hard stroke. you moan, the sound high-pitched, and his fingers dig into your hips as he starts to move.

it’s hard, rough, each thrust making your body jolt forward, and all you can do is hold onto the couch as he sets a brutal pace.

he reaches forward, fisting a hand in your hair again, yanking your head back roughly. the sharp pull makes a thick tear roll down your cheek, and you cry out, moaning his name as his hips slam against yours.

“jihoon—fuck—” you gasp, the words barely coherent/

he pulls your hair harder, his other hand reaching around to find your clit, fingers rubbing fast circles as he keeps thrusting into you, relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. your legs are shaking, body trembling under him, and you can feel it—so fucking close now.

“come on, baby, i wanna feel you cum,” he moans into your ear, and that’s all it takes. the combination of his cock slamming into you and his fingers on your clitmakes you cum hard, crying out, body shaking violently as you sob.

your thighs clamp together as your orgasm rips through you, and jihoon groans loudly behind you, hips slamming into you one last time before he follows, taking his cock in. arush, cumming hard watching the white mess on your ass, his hand still tangled in your hair as his hips stutter against yours.

you collapse onto the couch, completely spent, body trembling and limbs weak, and jihoon collapses on top of you, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

you can’t help but laugh, the tension fading away as the heat between you slowly dissolves into something softer. he grunts, rolling off of you and collapsing next to you on the couch. neither of you say anything for a few moments, just trying to catch your breath, the living room smelling like sex

“well,” jihoon finally says, voice hoarse, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “if that’s one way to kill time.”

you glance at yourself and then at him, laughing at the mess, his body is on the worst position ever—maybe that's why his back always hurts—and then you look at his still-lowered shorts, flushed cock resting on his abdomen, trying to twitch back to life.

“i want to suck you off so bad...” you raise up reaching for him, hand wrapped on the base, as your tongue slides on the pink tip.

jihoon doesnt even have time to process, his hands flying to your head as he arches his back. “wait—fuck!”

[eva-does-its-best]

Going from "I'm not one of those trans people who do x or y" to "I am so one of those and I should have not judged them and I am glad that I got rid of the normative judgemental attitude I used to have".

Going from "I'm just a lesbian so liking trans men is wrong i don't want to deny their manhood" to "My sexuality is weird and that is fine, I like who I like despite the theoretical implications of it and I am not denying anyone's identity because I like them for who they are and respect them no matter what".

Going from "I'm just a regular binary she/her woman" to "I'm a girl and a woman but my dissociation and life experiences also make me feel impersonal so I can use it/its and I'm not weird for it, i wouldn't even be weird if I had no justification either, I can even use doll pronouns because I like them and they make me feel warm and happy and that is what matters".

Going from "Ok so these are all the labels with their very clear definitions and meanings and everything else is internet quirky stuff" to "I literally would not know how to explain what you are and I won't force you to explain it if you don't want, I don't need to understand it to accept you, you are valid and loved. If you instead want to explain it to me I'll do my best to learn and defend it whenever I can".

Going from "I am so sad, frustrated, angry and in pain because I will never be or look cis" to "I actually don't like the cis normative look, I don't want to cispass, I like trans beauty but specifically I like me beauty, the one where I am still myself but a more me version of myself. The world constantly told me what I should aspire to be and look like and like and I was brainwashed for so long but now I've broken free and am free to fully love myself and everyone else in this world who ever thought they were weird or ugly because my eyes find so much beauty in everything and everyone!"

Going from "Ew furries" to "I don't want to make fun of people who deviate from the norm because that is exactly what happens to me and we should all be together or else we are treating ourselves as exceptions and exceptions are easily revoked, I will learn to love everyone against a brain poisoned with conservativism and "normality". I like rats I should make a rat fursona or smth it would be so cute it'd so represent me :3".

Going from "I am useless, lazy, falling behind, a disappointment" to "I am physically and mentally disabled, there have never been accomodations for me in any aspect of my life and the intersectionalities of gender, sexuality, economical situation, etc. have made my life extremely difficult, I forgive myself for both failing and for blaming myself, I will seek help and advocate for myself to the best of my abilities and I will respect my limits in this world that was not made for people like me".

Learning is hard, changing is scary, but it's mostly just your brain being a conservative for the sake of commodity, safety and self-preservation, sometimes you need to fight your brain in a war of attrition but when you finally win you'll be so much happier.

I am so much happier now, my world is bigger and brighter and I see everyone and everything with a new, beautiful light. I look back on how I was and how I thought and how the world works and it all looks so much worse and grey, I am not going back there, this new mind is my home now.

And the best part is that I know I will keep learning more and changing more and the world and this life will keep getting better and better🥰.

[niiwa-angel]

I can't stop thinking about how Stan Pines, a man who was kicked out of his home at a young age by his abusive father, turned his own home into such a safe space for not just the twins, but his employees and the kids friends as well.

First of all, we know Wendy frequently slacks off on her shifts, she has her roof top hideaway but she also reads magazines and flat out refuses to do certain tasks. Like when Stan asked her to put up a sign and she just said she couldn't reach it, or telling Stan "absolutely not" when he asked her and Soos to clean the bathrooms. Not only could Stan fire her, he could take away her magazines or stop her from going on the roof. We see that Stan is more observant than he lets on, you're telling me he didn't notice her dragging a cooler and a lawn chair up there? And she's either bringing her own pop and ice to fill that cooler or she's taking his.

And then there's Soos, who Stan cares about so much he got himself on the no-fly list trying to get his birthday removed from calendars, just because it made him upset. We know Soos cares about the Mystery Shack, he feels comfortable there, and he respects and adores Stan. Soos also volunteered to DJ for free at Stans summer party.

We also frequently see Soos and Wendy hanging out with the twins, so either they're slacking off during working hours or they're coming over after their shifts just to hang out. In an after credits scene, we see Mabel and Dipper turn Soos into a disco ball and they're clearly in the residential part of the shack. So either Soos buggered off during working hours to hang out with the twins or he's off shift just chilling. Either way, Stan is fine with him being in the actual house part of the shack.

Wendy also helps Mabel try and make Stan more 'desirable' to Lazy Susan, which I'll get into later, but she's not working and she also in the house part of the shack. We also see Soos and Wendy watching television with Stan, Mabel, and Dipper during the Summerween episode. They aren't on shift! They're just chilling. Wendy hits Stan in the face with a water balloon while working as a lifeguard. She's comfortable teasing him.

Soos tags along with Stan, Dipper, and Mabel when they break into the golf course after hours. He brings his shirts to cut Ws into. He doesn't have to be there, he just is. Wendy goes hunting with Mabel and her friends for unicorns. Mabel wins a pig at the fair and Stan lets her keep it, the pig needs food, who do you think is footing that bill?

Now let's talk about friends. Mabel often has Candy and Grenda over, we know she has loud sleepover with them. Do you think Mabel would bring her friends over if she wasn't comfortable in the house? Do you think Candy and Grenda would keep coming over if they didn't feel safe? Not to mention, they literally ambush Stan in the bathroom and give him a make over. Which he allows, we see him fight off the undead, punch bald eagles, and catch the twins when they fell from the nose of that monument. The man is strong, he could get three preteen girls off him if he wanted to, he was 100% playing along.

Candy and Grenda also invite themselves along on their road trip. And Stan lets them come!! Mr cheap stake agrees to feed and care for two extra kids who aren't his family.

Dipper sneaks around trying to see his tattoo, he feels safe enough with Stan to push those boundaries. He literally pulled the Memory Gun on Ford during the basement scene, if he wasn't comfortable with Stan, he wouldn't try to get that close to him. He calls Stan when he and Mabel are trapped in a haunted convenience store (he doesn't answer but still, he called him).

Now let's talk about Gideon, because I will stand by the Stan had some fondness for the kid. We know Stan has been annoyed with Gideon for a while, we know Gideon has been gunning for Stan for a while. And Stan just... Keeps letting this happen. He never involves the police, he plays along with Gideons attempts, even when Gideon is laughing uncontrollably, Stan just assured him that "you'll get me one day kid". Even when Gideon climbs in THROUGH THE WINDOW all Stan does is aggressively sweep at his feet. Correct me if I'm wrong, but Stan never gets rough with Gideon.

I'm just, I'm weeping over the knowledge that Stan Pines, who wasn't safe in his own home, made his home a safe place for kids as an adult.

[no-144444]

was it casual?-l.norris

Day 28 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: the seriousness of your relationship wasn't exactly clear... leading to unforseen circumstances... (18+)

mdni (18+ smut) (ur responsible for the content you consume, not me)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

He walked into his empty apartment. Monaco was a town where you either knew people, or you didn’t. He knew people, but people knew him more. Max F was busy, Carlos was in Spain with family, Oscar was over in England to see Lily, Alex was off supporting Lily in a tournament, George was with Carmen in Austria, Max (V) was too busy with streaming and fighting the FIA, and that left him all alone. 

His life had been getting quieter since the start of last season. People checked in less, his mental health went downhill, everyone has their eyes on him now. It had been months of lonely interactions, wasted opportunities, and a job that was slowly ripping him apart. He had to win, he had to be the best. 

Then there was a knock at the door. The tension in his shoulders dissipated, a smile made its way onto his lips, and he forgot about his troubles. 

You were here. 

He opened the door with a bright smile, and there you stood with his favourite takeout. The only person who made him feel normal. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled, letting you in. You stepped inside, placing the food on the table. “How was your day?”

“Busy, but better now,” you smiled and pressed your lips to his softly. “You?”

His heart warmed slightly. He never thought he’d be one of those guys. One of those guys who loved their girlfriend 7 months in, but here he was, heart eyes and all. 

“Busy, but better now,” he replied. You chuckled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“What’d you do?” You asked. 

“Some simming, training, meetings and other boring shit,” He yawned. “Tired now.”

You nodded. 

“You?”

“Down in court today, Rich is doing well, I think the judge likes us,” you explained, mindlessly picking the carrots out of his dish and putting them in your own. “Don’t know if we’ll win though.”

“You will,” he answered definitively. “You’re the best solicitor ever.”

“I’m not a full solicitor yet,” you reminded him. 

“Still the best,” he shrugged. 

“Come on sleepyhead, have some food and we can go to bed,” you chuckled. He sat beside you at the table, and you two chatted about your days, not even bothering to clean up before collapsing into his bed. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You two had met at a bar in Monaco, you were friendly with Pietra due to a few yoga classes you’d done together, and Lando had been obsessed with you since then. You’d gone on a few dates that mostly ended with you in his bed or vice versa, and recently it had turned into more of a relationship. He hadn’t asked you out yet. He wasn’t your boyfriend. You hadn’t been on a proper date in months. It was confusing. You thought it was just casual. You really liked him, but he thought this was just casual, didn’t he? I mean, what would an F1 driver want with a regular law student in Monaco just starting her traineeship? He wasn’t your boyfriend, right? 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You woke up with his arms around you, and quickly shuffled out of his bed. You got dressed, cleaned up after dinner from the night before, and off you went. Saturday, you had a lunch date with a few friends, and some errands to run. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lando woke up cold and alone. It wasn’t crazily unusual for him to wake up alone when you’d stay over, but you’d usually tell him that you had an early morning, or something to stop you two from having a lazy morning. He checked the time, 10am. You must’ve left recently. He cursed himself for being such a heavy sleeper, and for sleeping so well when you were with him. He shot you a text about tonight. He knew it was slightly pathetic that he didn’t have anyone else to hang out with other than his busy girlfriend, but he didn’t really care. It was a great chance as well, since his parents were in town and might be able to swing by dinner. He knew it was early on, but he loved you, and he planned on telling you soon. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

A knock on the door, a familiar routine. He should probably give you a key. 

“Hey baby,” he smiled. 

“Hey Lando,” you smiled. “Sorry I was later than usual, the traffic was crazy and I didn’t want to cancel on you and-”

“So this is the girlfriend?” Adam, Lando’s dad, asked, a bright smile on his face. Your face fell. His parents were sitting right there, staring at you, looking at you, and they thought you were his girlfriend. He must’ve thought someone else was behind the door, maybe he’d cancelled and you didn’t get the text and his actual girlfriend was behind you and you were about to be kicked out and blocked, maybe-

“This is her,” Lando smiled, ushering you in. You shot him a look of confusion. He shot you one back. He took your coat and bag, and led you over to the table with a kiss on the cheek, his parents watching the whole display. 

“So Y/n, what do you do?” Cisca asked. 

“I’m a solicitor in training,” you explained. “Sorry that I was late, the traffic was insane and my firm is across the-”

“It’s fine,” she smiled. “We only got here 10 minutes ago.”

“Ok, good,” you chuckled nervously. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

And with that, the dinner began. It was a maze of questions, jokes, and slight teasing, but by the end, you’d thought you did quite well. They didn’t seem to completely hate you yet, so that was good. As Lando closed the door on them, you put your head in your hands and groaned. 

“I’m sorry I sprung that on you, it’s just… they were in town, a-and they wanted to meet you so badly-”

“It’s fine,” you shook your head. “I just… I didn’t know I was your girlfriend,” you told him honestly. 

His eyes darkened, a hint of possessiveness playing behind them. “How did you not think you were my girlfriend?” “Well, for one, you never fucking asked me to be your girlfriend. Two, it doesn’t exactly make sense considering I’m just a law student, and you’re a fucking F1 driver. Three-” he cut you off with a kiss. 

He kissed you hard and heavy, pulling you into his arms, his grip bordering on bruising. “Jump,” he whispered against your lips. You obliged, jumping and wrapping your legs around his torso. He brought you to his bedroom, all but throwing you on the bed and rushing to take off his clothes as you took off yours. He got to work, finger swirling through your core as he watched your reactions. 

“So good Lan,” you whined, nails digging into his shoulders. 

“You fuck anyone else?” he asked, harshly scissoring his fingers into your entrance. 

“No-fuck- j-just you. Only you-shit!” you moaned. 

He smirked, lowering his face to your pussy. “Good girl,” he quipped, kissing at your clit as you moaned his name. You were his, he was yours. He needed to remind you of that. 

You were hot all over, desperate to finally get that release, but he was going too slowly. “Lan, quicker, please,” you whined, more than needy. You tugged at his hair, grinding down on his face as he smirked. It felt fucking amazing, his nose, his tongue, all of it. It was too much and too little all at the same time. You whined in frustration at the loss of contact when he pulled away, leaving you unsatisfied. He flipped you over, ass in the air on his bed and smacked your ass. “Lan-!”

Buried to the hilt in one thrust. Lando was clearly not fucking around tonight. “You’re doing so well baby.” he smirked. “Want you to cum on my cock.”

You nodded, letting him take what he wanted from you. 

“My fucking girl, isn’t that right?”

“Yes! Yes!” you moaned. 

“Fuck, good fucking girl, y’gonna cum on my cock?” 

“Yes! Yes!” you groaned, muffled by the sheets. 

“Who’s fucking you right now?” he thrust harder, messily kissing your neck. 

“You!” you screamed, getting closer and closer to your high. 

“And what am I to you sweetheart?” he gritted out. 

“M-my boyfriend!” you finally came around him, walls tightening as you moaned. He came shortly after, groaning as he pulled out of you. 

“You alright?” he asked, a bright smile on his face. You nodded softly, too exhausted to speak. “Did so good,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek and left to grab some glasses of water, and a towel to clean you both up with.  It wasn’t just casual.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi @linnygirl09 @lanadelray1989 @teamnovalak @gleeblegnarp

[bokutone]

˗ˏˋ MORNINGS WITH THEM ˎˊ˗

including: kita shinsuke, bokuto kōtarō, suna rintarō, kuroo tetsurō, iwaizumi hajime. genre/warnings: it's all fluff i think. a/n: i really want to start posting more things so pls feel welcome to drop suggestions on my asks hehe.

kita — your mornings start before the sun shines, your body feels the movement beside you when kita decides it’s time to start the day. the feeling of emptiness on the bed is enough to wake you up and join him in the kitchen, a soft peck on the lips, and a quiet “morning” greet you every day. while the sun rises above the sky and the soft light enters the room, you can feel the warmth in your chest because looking at the man you love cooking for you while the birds sing their first songs is the best way to start your day. 

bokuto — the usually loud voice of bokuto is calmer in the mornings, whispering a good morning while he hugs you and keeps you warm between his (beefy) arms is comforting in many ways; those moments at the start of the day are irreplaceable. soft hums of discomfort rumble under your ear, and the way he holds you tighter when you try to get up makes you giggle every day, it’s a routine, no matter how many days pass, mornings are always the same lovely fight. 

suna — mornings are lazy, with neither of you wanting to leave the bed, it’s kind of hard to start the day, but you’re always the first one to move. you struggle to get up when his arms are around you, the words “it should be a crime to get up” sound every morning at 7:40 am. you have to fight to get him up, but when he’s finally on his feet, you get yourself a child. he follows you to the bathroom, then to the kitchen, standing there waiting for the daily morning kiss you give him when breakfast is ready, and it’s just after that when your favorite middle blocker wakes up. 

kuroo — mornings with him are never the same, on the weekdays he’s usually the first one to wake up. with his arms hugging your waist and his lips leaving soft pecks on your face you open your eyes to see his face first thing in the morning. but on the weekends it is the other way around, your hands caressing his face, your voice murmuring a quiet “morning” when it is already noon is the first thing he loves to hear. breakfast in bed and movies as background sound for your weekly gossip session is something you love to have, and every morning is different, even though you’re both the same. iwaizumi— your mornings are comforting, neither of you is much of a morning person and that’s more than perfect. with a battle of rock, paper, scissors you decide who’s the one in charge of breakfast. he lets you win every time just to see your smile, and you pretend to not know that because you enjoy seeing him shirtless in the kitchen (and who doesn’t?). between laughs and smiles, a few kisses are exchanged, a few i love you’s are muttered and lots of love is visible in the comfort of your home. and so your day begins, with iwaizumi hajime by your side.

rbs and comments are really appreciated!

[rothpie]

❝FIDELITY❞ |part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: blood, mentioning pregnancy

next

English isn’t my first language, so I apologize if I make some mistakes. 💗

You're lying on your back, the faint light streaming through Rafe’s blinds casting long shadows across the room. The space feels familiar, as always, but now, there’s something different, something unsettling—wrinkled sheets, the sharp, expensive scent of his cologne lingering in the air, his jacket casually draped over the chair by the window… There’s an intense silence, broken only by the low hum of the ceiling fan. It’s hard to ignore the unease gnawing at your mind, that strange sense that something’s just… off.

You shift slightly, watching his silhouette move in the soft morning light filtering through the curtains; he barely spoke since he got home last night, pulling you into bed, his thoughts miles away.

“Where are you going?” he murmur, breaking the silence. He’s already looking at you, eyes half-open, following your movements with a lazy grin and the faint imprint of the pillow still visible on his cheek.

“Told you I have things to do today, babe,” you say with a smile, and he frowns, stretching as he turns onto his back to look around.

“Come back to bed,” he says, reaching out to touch the spot where you’d just been lying. The usual cold demeanor he wears has softened; now, he’s almost sulking, like a kid pouting. “What, feeling chilly?” you tease with a smirk, picking up your jeans from the floor. Rafe sits up, watching you, visibly unimpressed by your joke.

“I’d rather see you taking those off.” His eyes trace over you, his tongue sweeping over his lips like he’s ready to devour you for breakfast. “Too bad,” you reply with a playful edge, alluding to how he’d come straight home last night and just crashed. He doesn’t break his gaze as he slumps back down, watching you intently from the bed.

“Babe, you’re serious right now? Come on, get back here.” You roll your eyes and keep dressing while he lets out a frustrated sigh, realizing he’s not going to win this time.

Without saying anything more, he resigns himself to watching, clearly enjoying the show you’re unknowingly giving him. “You should wear those jeans more often—they do wonders for your ass.” His comment makes you laugh, and his grin grows wider, obviously pleased.

Once you’re fully dressed, you grab your bag from across the room and approach the bed. Leaning over, he meets you halfway, his mouth pressing onto yours as if that’s exactly where he belongs. A perfect, effortless fit.

“Stay,” he says as you pull back a bit, looking down into his eyes. His smile holds that look—he could make anyone do anything, but he’s using it on you because he already knows he can.

“I can’t.” The words leave your lips just before he kisses you again, pulling you back down onto him. You can’t help but giggle as he quickly moves, wrapping you into his arms. When his eyes and his words don’t work, he’ll use his mouth. Still grinning, he keeps his lips pressed to yours.

After your laughter dies down, his hands slide through your hair, and he kisses you deeply, savoring the moment until he’s satisfied. He releases you with a few final pecks, hands still resting by your face, studying you closely. “I wonder what’s so important you’d leave me,” he muses.

You place your hand on his cheek, giving him one last soft kiss. He doesn’t resist—he matches your calm, unhurried pace. When you pull back, you feel that little hint of tension at his question, but you fight the urge to look away.

“My mom.” You say it, biting down on the first lie you can think of, hoping it’s convincing. “She wants me at home for breakfast. No idea why, but apparently, it’s important.” Rafe has that faint smile again. He tuned out after the first sentence, just watching you, captivated. Sometimes he barely listens to what you say, preferring just to watch you. He knows you’ll do whatever you want anyway, so why waste time?

He leans in, planting a quick kiss on your lips. “Call me later,” he says, settling back down into the bed with that look still in his eyes. You nod and head to the door. As you leave, you hear him say, “Love you.”

You turn back to him. “Love you more!” You pull the door shut, and his laugh filters through. It makes you smile, but as you descend the stairs, that smile fades until it’s completely gone when you leave Tannyhill.

There’s an ache inside you that doesn’t go away. Every day, it presses tighter against your chest. You wish you could just chalk it up to being sick, but you need proof, something undeniable. When the familiar nausea hits again, you clutch your stomach, breathing deeply. Your eyes well up with panic, knowing you’re already too far gone to hold it in.

-

The smells are stronger than usual. You already hate hospitals, that medicinal scent, but today it’s overwhelming, suffocating even. You wipe your nose and try not to cry.

You scan the aisles.

Looking for a familiar face, a potential danger.

Hoping to find a way out, some kind of excuse. You pretend to browse a shelf, but you’re really just eyeing the store for anyone who might recognize you.

Finally convinced it’s safe, your trembling hand reaches for the pregnancy test on the shelf. You grab it and wrap your hand around it quickly. Embarrassment and dread roll over you.

Not remembering that night, that’s what gnaws at you. You and Rafe, sometimes you’d skip protection, just for the thrill of it. But you always had some backup. You can’t recall the details. Was it a drunk night? Did it happen in Topper’s bathroom, on the yacht? You can’t remember. Did you use anything? Did you take a pill? It’s all blank.

You place the pregnancy test on the counter and exhale, but the smell of disinfectant overwhelms you, making you pinch your nose. The cashier, a brown-haired guy, rings up your purchase, but just as he’s about to hand over the receipt, a voice from the back calls him. “Be right back,” he says with a polite smile, disappearing into the storeroom.

Then you sense someone beside you, and as you turn, your eyes lock onto him. Your hand instinctively pulls the test closer. Out of all people—of course, it’s him—JJ Maybank.

For once, he’s not covered in bruises; he’s downright bloody. His eyebrow and lip are split, blood streaking down his face, dried patches marking where he’d wiped his nose. And he’s got that stupid grin on his face as usual.

“You good?” JJ asks. His voice is casual, without a hint of concern. He doesn’t really care if you’re okay—he’s just curious.

Idiot.

“You,” the word slips out. You’re trying to hold yourself together, wiping away the tears and forcing yourself to sound casual. He looks at you like he hasn’t been punched in the face. Not just his face—his shirt’s got blood on it too. “A better question is, are you good?”

JJ laughs, pointing at himself as if the question is absurd. “Me? You should see the other guy.” His smug voice grates at you, and you roll your eyes. JJ laughs again, clearly amused by your reaction. You turn away, but he speaks up.

“Think you might have Covid?”

Your eyes dart back to him, trying to figure out if he’s joking or just delirious from the punches. Maybe he’s taken one too many hits to the head.

“What the hell are you talking about?” you snap. He’s an idiot, so you have to talk to him like one. You’re just one step away from snapping entirely, feeling the irritation practically radiate off you.

“The thing in your hand,” he starts, clearly unbothered by your tone, grinning away. But you’re tense, the tightness settling in your chest like a butterfly stuck there.

“Oh, thought it was a Covid test. Unless… it’s a pregnancy test.” His eyes drop to the test you’re trying to hide, glinting with mischief, then lifting to yours. He lifts his shirt, wiping the blood from his face with the hem, which somehow annoys you even more.

You look away, feeling your heart pound with anxiety. It’s dumb to think he won’t notice, but you’re too tense to think straight. You’ve always made the wrong choices, you know that.

“You’re babbling nonsense,” you retort, still unable to meet his gaze, hoping to shake him off. But JJ doesn’t look away; his gaze stays on your hands, that stupid smirk still plastered across his face.

“My bad, sorry,” he said, waiting like someone who had just walked in from the outside. Even though he claimed he was apologizing, his words were laced with sarcasm, and you could tell he was still grinning.

You’d handed him ammunition. To him. And of course, if you were actually pregnant, the first to know wouldn’t be Rafe. It’d be him. That idiot. JJ Maybank.

You lunged forward and snatched the receipt from behind the register with trembling hands, too anxious to wait for the brown-haired cashier to come back and worried you’d betray your unease if you stayed any longer.

When you turned to leave, another wave of anxiety hit. There was a very real chance that he’d spread this around, tell his stupid friends, the Pogues… JJ was the last person you’d trust with something like this, but he was also the last person you’d want to have blab about it, with that big, unstoppable mouth of his. You turned around and walked back over.

He was already watching you, his eyes following your every move. Without hesitating, you spoke. “If I hear even a single word about this from anyone, I swear to god—”

But JJ only grinned wider, clearly entertained. “Whoa, whoa,” he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Your secret’s safe with me, princess.” He leaned against the counter, wiping the dried blood from his cheek, still watching you with that infuriating smirk. “I promise not to tell the world you ‘might be Covid positive.’”

His mocking tone left you speechless, made you tense. He knew exactly what was in your hand—even if you told him to drop it, he wouldn’t. Of course not. You shot him one last look, spun on your heels, and made a break for the door.

As you left, you could still feel his eyes on you, that annoying smirk echoing in your mind. The idea that he might actually say something made your chest tighten. He wouldn’t need to yell it from the rooftops; even if one of those idiot friends of his overheard, you’d be done. For someone who usually faded into the background, JJ Maybank had a knack for making himself unforgettable.

He knew your biggest secret.

-

You prayed. At barely twenty years old, you prayed it wouldn’t be true. Begged yourself to just be fooling yourself. You even swore to never have sex again if that would help.

What would you do?

How would you tell Rafe, your family, that you had a baby growing inside you?

You fucked.

You fucked, and the double lines on that test proved it. Only you and God knew how deep into this mess you’d landed.

[cyberm4n]

You've now filled my head with nothing but Alastor and Lucifer brainrot. Any other sharing thoughts you have for them? (I cannot stop thinking about them, I quite literally thought about them sharing me during my entire 8hr retail shift yesterday)

alastor and lucifer sharing you pt 3!

pt1, pt2

this was highly requested, thank you all for the love <3 im tagging anyone who asked/was fine with it last time but now you can fill out this taglist form to ensure you're tagged for future posts!

tags: @lu-ferri12 @my-anime-garden @princessdreamss @polytheatrix @reaper-of-light-12 @ambi-squirrelly @hazelfoureyes @meggletoomanyfandoms @afernandez21

cw: angst ig?? idk reader is upset cause they keep fighting, general relationship issues for a moment, smut, reader gets eaten out, there's some light praise and condescension i think, alastor has a master kink, alastor discovers he LOVES eating pussy, there's like a weird sexual tension between alastor and lucifer for the majority of this if you squint, the ending is VERY suggestive

other: not 100% happy with formatting on this but i wrote majority of it on a 6 hour flight so like. you win some you lose some. not proofread that well, i kind of ramble at times too but it's fine. 2.1k word count and half of it is formatted in a headcanon cuase, again, lazy 6 hour writing. i also don't use the bolding and coloring that much cause it'd be a lot of work.

left the ending a little open, will probably do a poll tomorrow on if people want me to take this that direction.

■ okay so sex aside i would think outwardly everyone knows you're in a relationship with lucifer at the very least

■ but it's kept lowkey with the other part of the relationship

■ which both are fine with btw

■ lucifer loves pda so he's happy, alastor isn't a fan so it's whatever

■ the public part works out because alastor would genuinely be worried about someone trying to use you to get to him

■ it's bad enough that it's known the king of hell has a new partner, but nobody knowing that if they fuck with you they're fucking with the king of hell AND the radio demon is a silent advantage

■ if anyone knows, it's charlie. but only to the extent of like the fact it's a hinge relationship, everything else she doesn't know and honestly doesn't need to know

■ she's just happy her dad seems happy and is getting along better with alastor

■ i think alastor is the kind to really start caring during the relationship vs. lucifer caring about you deeply before

■ so occasionally alastor will pull you aside, or if no one is watching will just press a quick kiss on your forehead.

■ meanwhile lucifer is always making it known he's in love with you

■ arm around your shoulder, holding your hand, everything

■ again, alastor doesn't really mind unless lucifer decides to be an ass abt it

■ look they still compete with each other sometimes they can't help it

■ then it becomes a game of how much the other can get away with before you either get upset or it's too telling

■ that's the other thing is like, the competing gets really fucking annoying to you

■ we saw them in hells greatest dad it wasn't a want to be a better dad it's just wanting to out do the other

■ and when it transfers to your relationship it gets agitating fast

moving on

■ relationship side alastor isn't as involved with that

■ but if either of them did something that upset you or like there was a lovers quarrel between you and either side it's a big deal to them

■ especially if you're only upset with one half of the hinge

■ cause like, sure, they could compete with each other and purposefully drive you apart

■ but tbh.. both of them lowkey like this arrangement much more than they thought they would

■ so they end up talking to each other about it and figuring out what to do

■ same if you're upset with both

■ not that you're upset often it's just that when you are it's usually cause they crossed a line in their little competition

■ and they hate making their girl feel like a prize to be won :(

■ whatever their solution is, they do it together.

■ show you they can get along, that they both care about you enough

■ you're in your room, a bit of a blow up happened earlier after they got into one of their arguments

■ it's not that you genuinely think theyre using you to get to the other but sometimes with the way they act it's easy to doubt

■ anyways, they both come in, it's late

■ i cry when im frustrated/upset and i think it's a pretty normal reaction, so let's just say you're crying a little

■ they're both immediately at your side, apologizing profusely

■ you've never cried like this before

■ it scares them. alot.

■ for once there's absolutely no competition, the only worry is making you feel better.

■ both sitting next to you on the couch, lucifer murmuring how much he loves you, and how he knows how much alastor cares for you

■ i hate the whole "alastor doesn't understand emotions" thing because he does. he has to, he knows how to read people well.

■ it's just he hasn't ever comforted someone

■ he doesn't know what to do when someone he cares about is upset

■ so he's glad lucifer is here, as alastor just sits at your side nodding along and gently rubbing your back

■ alastor only tunes back in when lucifer offers to give some space for the night, and a little murmur from you agrees but asks they both come to bed that night

■ given its usually only lucifer who actually sleeps in the same bed as you alastor is surprised

■ but lucifer is beckoning him out for some space.

"cmon, we'll be back in an hour yeah?" he chimes from the door, and with a squeeze of your shoulder alastor is out of the door, but he opts to walk along with lucifer. "we gotta do better" lucifer sighs as he walks, not looking over at alastor. he's not accusing alastor, he seems equally disappointed in both of them.

"for her?" alastor adds, and lucifer gives a hum of agreement. "this while ordeal has been quite... stressful as of late, no?" alastor adds, "to our own faults, yes" lucifer murmurs, giving a sigh. alastor nods, and the two men walk in silence for some time, ending up in the parlor, husk far since gone to bed. "want anything?" lucifer pulls alastor back to reality once again, he's standing behind the bar while alastor had been staring off, his mind running with thoughtd of god knows what.

"whiskey, my friend?" alastor suggests, and giving it a considerate thought lucifer pours two glasses. the silence falls over them again, just the sound of the clink of their glasses on the counter.

"so tell me, how do you do it when you pleasure her?" alastor breaks the silence, lucifers eyes dart up to him. thinking for a moment before replying "i don't really think tonight is the time for that—" lucifer says, but in a gentle tone.

"no no, in the morning." alastor says, staring down at his glass. "you two indulge often in the morning, correct?" alastor says, now his eyes uncomfortably on lucifer. Watching as the other man almost pales a little, swallowing thickly.

lucifer immediately falters, giving a sigh. "look it's not— i‐ that's not her fault–" lucifer immediately starts, assuming this is a confrontation. his eyebrows raise as alastor shakes his head. "oh please, if i had problem with it i would have done something" he says, a static crackle echoing through the room. "no, i want to know how you do it when you... when it's just about her. how can i do the same?" alastor asks, and this is even more surprising to lucifer than this whole fucking idea in the first place.

■ so lucifer of course explains some stuff to him, of course it's hard because unless he's done it before it's hard to articulate some of his "moves"

■ i mean lucifer can hardly resist going down on you everytime, he's definitely experienced but it's hard to transfer that knowledge at times

■ but he's impressed alastor even asked

■ so when they return to your room, they're a lot more calmer with each other than before.

■ that night changed a lot between them tbh

■ it's slightly awkward for both of them when everyone gets settled in the bed

■ you're on your back, lucifer on your right side and alastor on the left.

■ they're both holding you to the best of their abilities

■ lucifer gives alastors hand a squeeze before shuffling it to have a better grasp on your waist

■ you all peacefully sleep through the night, not shifting much but it's pretty comfortable

■ is the morning you're mostly cuddled into alastor, which is entirely lucifers doing

■ when you're all awake though alastor gets arguably nervous

■ but you being you, you slump over onto alastors chest, murmuring some affection to him

■ lucifer gives a nod, it's time.

■ he'd honestly probably move to get out of bed, assuming some privacy is wanted

■ but he feels a shadow wrap around his forearm, it's a light pressure

■ alastor shakes his head, mouthing a small "please"

after lucifer processes for a moment what exactly is about to go down, he's okay with that. he settles back in, his eyes on the two of you as alastor tilts your chin up, pressing a kiss to your lips. "my dear, would you mind if i tried something a little different with you?" alastor chimes, and you blink your eyes open again, still a bit sleepy as you give a nod.

he gently maneuvers you on the bed so you're laying on your back, his hands pawing at your sleep shorts and pulling them to your ankles. lucifer watches, honestly a little mezmerized by the whole ordeal. he feels proud in an odd sort of way. “I think our little doe deserves a treat, would you like that?” alastor murmurs as he spreads your thighs open. You take a shaky breath before murmuring some form of agreement, maybe even a little plea.

without further prodigy, alastors finally leans down his tongue swiping down your folds, hands grasping your hips to pull you to his face. your hands go to hold lucifers, but he shakes his head tutting at you. “ah ah, that’s not very polite princess” he chides softly, guiding your hands to alastors hair.

and alastor makes good use of the tips and information lucifer gave him, his tongue plunging into your sweet little hole as his nose bumps your clit. his eyes wander up, making eye contact with you as he eats you out so wonderfully. you tug at his hair and he practically growls in pleasure, opting to change tactics and focus his mouth on your clit while his fingers slide inside you, gently curling into your sweet spot.

and lucifer watches it all, absolutely mesmerized. he doesnt know what it is about watching this but theres something about knowing alastor is doing exactly as told to in this scenario that makes lucifer feel warm. he lets alastor steal the show, doing only minimal work. maybe hes softly cooing praises or gently reminding you to show your appreciation to the one making you feel this good.

as you get close, evident by the murmur that falls past your lips, alastors eyes snap to lucifers for a moment, and he takes a moment to think before understanding. usually when youre close alastor is all over you, telling you to be such a good girl and cum, just slight praises and coaxing. given the fact hes face deep in your sweetness he cant really do that, so that job is up to lucifer now.

“isn’t alastor doing such a good job duckling? you want to make sure he knows how good hes treating you, dont you?” lucifer coos, scooting in behind you on the bed so you stop trying to writhe away. “I think he’d be so disappointed if you didnt cum for him, you think you can do that, hm? you wanna cum all over your masters tongue?” lucifer says directly in your ear, and alastor feels a bit of a warmth in his stomach by being referred to as “master”

when you give a weak moan in response lucifer sighs, shaking his head. “be a good girl now, you can do it little doe” he says which is what sends you toppling over the edge, your hips rutting up into alastors mouth, whiny moans coming from you as alastor desperately licks up your sweet release. this whole thing was quite enjoyable for alstor, but hearing lucifer call you “little doe” his petname for you made him smugly satisfied.

after some aftercare which mostly just involved more cuddling, alastor feels satiated enough to shift to leave, before getting a look from lucifer. he reluctantly stays, feeling as you come to lay at his side once more. lucifer seems to take note of something, giving alastor a nod down, he glances down, seeing the obvious tent in his pants. alastor looks back up, slightly annoyed. a like “yeah, no shit dumbass” kind of look is exchanged.

alastor looks back down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you sigh happily. but alastor tenses as he feels a hand on his knee, shooting a glare to lucifer as he traces his hand up a little. the two meet as and alastor takes a shaky breath as lucifer leans in just a little, breathing out the next few words with a calmness alastor admires:

“just keep cuddling her”

[obsesssedblerd]

“Just give up, Fushiguro.” The tallest kid of the group says, crossing his arms over his chest and flashing Megumi a grin. “There’s five of us and only one of you. There’s no way you’d win.” On either side of the bully, four more kids snickered, practically salivating over the idea of outnumbering him. 

Megumi sighs irritatedly. This is why he hates staying after school. On one hand, he’d be the first one to greet Yuuji once he’s done with his sports practice, but on the other hand, he’d end up getting into more altercations since he’d made quite a bit of enemies at his school. Your face floats in his mind, along with you worriedly asking him to promise that he wouldn’t fight anymore. 

Suddenly, the leader’s smile drops, and the five of them take a couple of fearful steps back as their gazes drift upwards. Two tall shadows loom over Megumi, and he doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s there. 

“Well, well,” Toji, his father, says with a lazy smile, then looks over at the man in his mid-twenties next to him. “Looks like you weren’t exaggerating after all. He really is fighting multiple students each time.” 

Satoru Gojo chuckles, then ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Told ya. And he hasn’t lost a single fight. However, anyone can tell that he’s holding back.” 

“Oh?” Toji raises a brow curiously, then taps his son’s shoulder. “That true? You’ve been holdin’ back?” 

Megumi turns around and meets his eyes. He nods once, and Toji gestures to the five kids. “Wanna stop?” 

The boy frowns. “I’ll get expelled.” 

“Trust me.” Satoru peers at him over his glasses, his blue eyes shining mischievously as he reassures him with his usual grin. “You won’t. Suguru’s already at the front desk taking care of it. I’ll head up there in a second to make sure everything’s going smoothly. Go on and handle it, kid.” 

His eyes widen slightly, and then he looks over at his father again. Toji’s scarred mouth lifts into a small, vicious smile, granting permission. “You heard your teacher.”

Megumi nods, faces the bullies with a similar smile, and cracks his knuckles.

—

“Hey there, Mrs. Fushiguro!” Satoru Gojo greets you when you walk into the school’s front office. Next to him, Suguru Geto gives you a friendly wave. “Picking up Tsumiki? Wow, you’re kinda early!” 

“Uh, yeah… What’re you two doing here? I know that Megumi is supposed to meet you both at Jujutsu Tech since Yuuji wanted to hang out after practice.” 

Satoru and Suguru laugh nervously, and you squint your eyes at them. Something’s up. “What did you two do this time?” You ask.

“...Nothing.” 

“Nothing at all!”

The doors to the principal’s office open, and you gasp loudly when you see five students sniffling as they walk out with their parents. All five of them were teary-eyed if not sobbing, bruised and holding ice packs to different parts of their bodies. Once they’ve left the school, you hear familiar voices. 

“Did you see how the last one ran?” Megumi snickers as he shoves his hands in his pockets. 

“Yup.” Toji laughs. “And you didn’t let him get far. That’s my boy! Let’s talk about how you tossed that one kid into the other and they hit the wall. Did Gojo teach you that one?” 

“Actually, I watched you handle—” Upon seeing you, Megumi stops in his tracks, and he gulps nervously. “Hi, Mom.” 

Toji’s eyes go wide. “Oh shit.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, and Satoru clears his throat. “Let’s look at the bright side here. He won’t be expelled or even suspended! It’s like the whole thing didn’t happen.” 

You ignore them and sigh at the sight of Megumi’s reddened knuckles. “Didn’t I tell you that you shouldn’t fight anymore? Your hands—” 

“Are strong enough to take out multiple enemies,” Toji says, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “We’re very proud of him. Can you imagine what he’ll do when he starts curse-hunting? His training is paying off.” 

You glare at him. “That’s true, but don’t try and– Mm…” Your mind goes completely blank when your husband gently kisses you. Behind you, Toji gestures to the three of them to leave now. 

When you hear footsteps shuffling away and the door closing, you pull away from Toji’s mouth and whirl around, groaning when you see that your son and his two teachers are gone. You turn back around to face him, and he smiles charmingly. “This isn’t over,” you tell him. 

“I know, I know.” He kisses your forehead, then chuckles. “You can lecture me after we grab Tsumiki and go for ice cream.”

[santanasaintmendes]

did you order pasta, miss?

part1! to the cosmic girl records 

!Cosmic Girl Records!

Summary: going to italy for the italian gp and getting pasta spilled all over you by a stranger wasn’t on your bingo card that year 

fc!: random girls on pinterest <3

olliebearman x reader & platonic!grid x reader

a/n: reader own a german shepherd dog called mickey. don’t pay attention to any of the dates, likes etc on the insta and twitter posts i got lazy. also this is my first post in this sort of category? u catch my drift? 😭 i do write but i rather try this out first anyways enjoy and please leave me feedback it’s always appreciated!

disclaimer: there are some sensitive comments and things said that may offend some people, they are just included for humour and feel free to scroll away any time

all photos go to their rightful owners and all of them are found on pinterest!

warnings: swearing, telling people to die (in a joking way), reader and the 2019 rookies have friendly banter where offensive things may be said idk if there’s any other ones but lmk if there is

word count!: 1.6k words i think? 😭😭

liked by landonorris, georgerussell64, alex_albon and 8,121,801 others 

view 7,632 comments 

unfortunatelyy/n: i’ve got 99 problems and going to italy has solved 98 of them 

tagged: bestie1 

 User1: Who’s she?

 User 2: She’s good friends with the 2019 rookies and the rest of the grid bit she’s been besties with Lando forever, she’s a couple of years younger than him though

 user7: she’s studying mechanical engineering though in NYC but she travels a lot to support the 2019 rookies

 Bestie1: um pic credits please 🙄

 unfortunatelyy/n: geez okay bossy 😤

 landonorris: i better get a post when i win in Monza 

 georgerussel64: as if, you’d be lucky to even finish the race with 4 tires still intact

 landonorris: @carmenmundt come and get your child. He’s escaped the psych ward again 

 georgerussel64: you’re just bitter I’ve got more wins than you

 landonorris: blocked, reported and my mom’s calling your mom 

 unfortunatelyy/n: stop fighting in my comments section girls 

 User3: she cooked ya’ll 

 user5: lando and y/n are so cute 

 user6: be so fr rn 

user4: love how she and the 2019 rookies are still so close 

liked by unfortunately/n

 alex_albon: you’ll be cheering for me in Monza right y/n? *sharpening knives 

 unfortunatelyy/n: WOAH 

 lilymhe: i don’t know him 

 alex_albon: HEY 

 unfortunatelyy/n: @lilymhe it’s always been you and me bae 🥰

 alex_albon: stop stealing my girlfriend

 unfortunatelyy/n: no.🫶

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, landonorris, bestie1, alex_albon and 6,795,973 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: shoutout to the 6ft brown haired boy who spilled pasta all over my new red dress, i hate you🖕

view 3,789 comments 

 landonorris: HAHA.

 unfortunatelyy/n: i hope you DNF this weekend 

 georgerussel64: you tell him y/n 

user1: NOT THE RED DRESS 

user2: curse you, brown haired boy 

 olliebearman: sorry for the dress 😔

 user3: OLLIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE 

 user4: this was not on my 2024 bingo card. 

 landonorris: don’t be sorry, I would’ve done the same 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i hate you both 🖕🖕

 user9: she's so petty I love her 😍

 user5: ollie being the boy who spilled pasta on y/n is wild 

 User6: fr like what in the multiverse is this 😭

 lilymhe: come to me and i’ll buy you as many dresses as you like 😍

 unfortunatelyy/n: omw honey 🤭

 alex_albon: I- 

 georgerussel64: you just gotta let it happen mate.

iked by landonorris, olliebearman, georgerussel64, alex_albon, oscarpiastri and 9,379,543 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: okay, what are thinking for this weekend, ya’ll?

view 8,832 comments 

 user1: not ollie in the likes

 User2: he’s down bad, maybe the pasta spill wasn’t on accident 

 user3: i mean do u blame him, i would trip over if i saw her too 

 alex_albon: “ya’ll” you’ve been spending way too much time with logan 

 unfortunatelyy/n: god bless america‼️ 🇺🇸🦅🗣️

 Landonorris: TRAITOR, IS THAT AN OSCAR CAP I SEE 🫵

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’ve always been an oscar girlie at heart

 oscarpiastri: as it should be 👍

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 landonorris: i see how it is. betrayed by my two best friends, the world’s full of fake people isn’t it.

 unfortunatelyy/n: oh please stop being so dramatic, don’t pretend u only use me for my fame

 landonorris: GASP. how could you say such a thing 

 georgerussell64: pretty sure 90% of your followers follow you because of her 

 landonorris: wow. low blow mate. 

 unfortunatelyy/n: where’s the lie tho? 🤔

 landonorris: alexa, play traitor by olivia rodrigo 

user7: here for the love-hate relationship between y/n and the 2019 rookies 

 lewishamilton: roscoe says you should go for mercedes in monza  

 unfortunatelyy/n: Mercedes it is! 

 landonorris: never in my 24 years of living on earth have i ever felt so betrayed. 

 unfortunatelyy/n: roscoe’s wishes are my commands 🤷‍♀️

 georgerussel64: amen sister 🙌🗣️

 unfortunatelyy/n: get out of my comment section Russell

user4: the williams t-shirt goes hard tho 

user5: oh to be y/n *sigh 

 olliebearman: how about ferrari? 

 unfortunatelyy/n: hmm, we’ll see, pasta boy

 user9: THE GASP I GUSP

 user10: not her calling him pasta boy 😭

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, lilymhe, carmenmmundt and 5,773,878 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: congratulations, ig 😒

tagged landonorris 

view 13,638 comments 

 landonorris: really? you had to use those photos? 

 unfortunatelyy/n: why? What’s wrong with them? I think you look very macho, especially in the first and third pic. 

 landonorris: i think i just lost a piece of my manhood. 

user6: the three reasons i love y/n: number 1: because she’s hot and sexy, number 2. I wish I was her, number 3. Because of the lando content she gives us 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n 

user4: THE THIRD PIC IM DYING 

user5: always leave it to y/n to humble lando after a win 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 user9: GUYS. Y/N WAS WEARING A FERRARI JACKET IN THE PADDOCK TODAY 

 user3: WHAT

 user9: and so it begins. 

 user13: I CALLED IT.

 user17: excusez moi? 

 user32: I SCREAMED. 

 lewishamilton: i told roscoe you wore a ferrari jacket today. let’s just say that he doesn't want to be seeing  you in the foreseeable future

 unfortunatelyy/n: WAIT NOOO

 user12: not lewis exposing her 😭

 unfortunatelyy/n: ROSCOE PLEASE FORGIVE ME 

 lewishamilton: he says you can only make it up with a playdate with mickey 

 unfortunatelyy/n: omw with mickey 🏃‍♀️‍➡️

liked by lewishamilton, landonorris, charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, olliebearman and 9,736,389 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: my babies 🥰 dog playdate soon anyone?

tagged lewishamilton 

view 8,382 comments 

 charles_leclerc: leo says you have officially been demoted to 2nd favourite aunt 

 unfortunately/n: WAIT NO WHO’S FIRST

 pierregasly: bitch it’s me.

 unfortunatelyy/n: @francisca.cgomes come and get your boyfriend he’s bullying me 

 charles_leclerc: it’s actually @lilymhe

 unfortunatelyy/n: TRAITORS.

 user1: anyone else been here since Mickey was a puppy?

 user2: ikr he’s so big now its making me cry 😭

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 lewishamilton: @pierregasly @charles_leclerc @unfortunatelyy/n @olliebearman @carlossainz55 dog playdate next week?

 landonorris: can i come too

 unfortunatelyy/n: no dog no invite 

 landonorris: @oscarpiastri can we buy a dog

 oscarpiastri: what. 

 user3: i have a feeling that we should get used to seeing ollie in the likes more often now

 user4: homeboy’s whipped fr 

 user5: if only he had the confidence to ask her out 😔

 user10: GUYS RELAX THEY’RE JUST FRIENDS 

user9: mickey’s the real f1 star fr 

 olliebearman: @unfortunatelyy/n how about instead of a dog playdate, i take you out on a real date? 

 user6: MY BOY’S FINALLY SHOOTING HIS SHOT 

 user7: GO GO GO GO GO 

 unfortunatelyy/n: will there be any pasta involved? 🤨

 olliebearman: no promises 

 unfortunatelyy/n: hmmm. . . text me. 

 landonorris: nO

user8: LETS FREAKING GOOO 

user11: THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL

user9: my life is complete, i can finally die in peace 

user10: i’m sorry i doubted yall 😔

liked by lilymhe, carmenmmundt, alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad and 6,429,765 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: what do we think guys? and don’t worry, there was no pasta involved 

tagged olliebearman

view 11,382 comments 

user11: phew, no pasta, really dodged a bullet there 👍

 landonorris: WOAH WOAH WOAH HANG ON A MINUTE 

 unfortunatelyy/n: what do you want, mom? 

 landonorris: GASP. Is that grammar I see? what has he done to you 😨

 unfortunatelyy/n: seriously? 

 landonorris: @georgerussel64 and @alex_albon back me up here 

 georgerussell64: unfortunately he’s right, no boyfriends on our watch 

 unfortunatelyy/n: then look away. 

 georgerussell64: @landonorris . . .  she got us there.

 landonorris: @alex_albon?

 alex_albon: lily is forcing me to stay out of it 😔 

 unfortunatelyy/n: HA. EVERYONE LAUGH 🤣

 charles_leclerc: 🤣

 lewishamilton: 🤣

 maxverstappen1: 🤣

 carlossainz55: 🤣

 danielricciardo: 🤣

 landonorris: wow. 

 user5: all the boys being so bitter and not liking the post 😭

 user9: but them still jumping in to bully lando any chance they get 

 olliebearman: did you seriously just ask your 8 million followers what they think about me 😰

 unfortunatelyy/n: it’s actually 9 million but . . .yes 😅

user3: everyone out here wishing they had older brothers just like the grid to be protective over them 😔

liked by unfortunatelyy/n 

liked by olliebearman, lilymhe, bestie1, alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes and 2,938,282 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: italy you will be missed, where to next?

tagged olliebearman

 olliebearman: pic creds please 🙄

 unfortunatelyy/n: okay okay calm down pal 🥱

 user1: pal 😭 i can’t 

user7: “how to be as beautiful as y/n no borax no glue” 

 user2: IS THAT THE DATE OLLIE TOOK HER ON 

 user3: screaming, crying, throwing up 

 user4: i can’t decide whether i want to be ollie or y/n 

 liked by unfortunatelyy/n 

 bestie1: you’ve forgotten about me already i see. I HATE YOU, YOU’RE THE WORST.

 unfortunatelyy/n: I’M LITERALLY OUT BUYING CHEETOS FOR U GIRL 

user6: HELP THEIR FRIENDSHIP IS HILARIOUS 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 landonorris: hmmm, i think i dislike the first pic

 unfortunately/n: so petty geez 🙄

 landonorris: we’re literally the same person 

 unfortunately/n: die ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux: gorgeous 😍 loved seeing you in Monza! 

 unfortunatelyy/n: marry me 🥰

 charles_leclerc: 🤨 

 olliebearman: 🤨

 unfortunatelyy/n: SO JUDGY GEEZ 

 alexandrasaintmleux: they’ll never accept us 😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: killing them is always an option 😌 🔪

 charles_leclerc: that’s murder. 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m aware 😒 

user5: HELP SHE’S GONE CRAZY

a/n: thank you for reading if you finished it! have a lovely day xxx