#TANGERINE IS EVEN MORE OF A LITTLE SHIT THAN IN THE MOVIE!!!!!

[ozym4ndi4s]

Lemon is somehow even more autistic in the book than he was in the movie

I don't know how else to explain it but HE IS

[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

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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 If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.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

[mirahuyooo]

Yoongi 006 + 014 please with a happy ending too?

006. “Are you two... a thing?” + min yoongi

— No, you and Min Yoongi are not a thing. 👀

word count: 999  contents: PURE FLUFF, romance, established relationship kept secret rawr, MIN yOONGI bOYFRIEND THINGS, your big bro is worldwide handsome Jin (Yoongi’s only hyung 🥺💕). featuring Jimin and Jungkook being little shits, no au specified! pairing: min yoongi x reader

[masterlist] | check out more of [Four Years with Mira]!

A/N: Hey anon! 💕💞💗 i’m so glad you joined!! Unfortunately, #14 was already taken, but I hope you like how this one turned out! I made it v v much a happy scenario for you!~ (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧💖

The moment of peace and quiet is shattered as, unannounced, Jimin and Jungkook burst through your brother's apartment door and strut into the living room where you lay idly on the sofa and watch a movie. They had more free time than expected, they claimed, and thought to spend it with their favorite noona. 

What more is that they come to witness Yoongi coming back from the kitchen with coffee and finger food and visibly frowning when he sees that you've sat up and the two younger men have taken all the seats on the couch—especially his. 

Wordlessly setting the plate of peeled tangerines and mini sandwiches onto the coffee table, Yoongi settles his defeat onto the floor, him and his long black curls just an arm's reach or so away. There's a pout on his lips that makes you bite back a giggle. 

Alas, Jimin, ever the keen-eyed observer, doesn't miss the subtle reactions between you both. "Noona, hyung, are you two…" he began, giggling like old women do to gossip, "a thing?" 

Even Jungkook, who had been so engrossed in the film, turns his wide doe eyes to the conversation in intrigue. 

Glancing Yoongi's way, you watch as he half-heartedly rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "No," he says, "we're not. I'm just here waiting for Jin-hyung."

Hiding your smile under the guise of munching on a tangerine slice, you, too, scoff for additional support. "The only time we held hands was when we were 12 and I had to stop him from pushing me into a pool." you retort, taking it one step further as you cast a fleeting smirk to the begrudged man lounging on the floor and sipping his mug. 

That was a complete and utter lie, of course. You know very well how Min Yoongi loved to hold hands—especially yours. 

See, a few months ago you and Yoongi have become a thing, ultimately deciding to keep your relationship a secret to savor some privacy and mess with the rest of the boys while the two of you were at it. There was also, of course, the musician's woes over your older brother—and his only hyung—finding out about you two and not approving. 

Min Yoongi is very much the soft bastard the boys tease him to be, and far from the cold, enigmatic man everyone else thinks he is. 

Min Yoongi, who loves cuddles, especially for taking naps. It gives him much needed energy for the woes of life, he said.

Min Yoongi, who thanks to his quiet nature, knows very well how to love you in secret—immortalizing you in his works, giving each other knowing looks, and always doing wordless acts of service. 

Min Yoongi, who gladly plopped back to his seat on the couch when the two boys finally decided to go home and leave you two alone yet again in Jin's apartment. 

Nuzzling to his side, you rest your head onto his shoulder with glee as he intertwines his fingers with yours. The gummy smile on his lips is always an endearing sight. "Do you think we should tell them soon?" you then wonder, looking up at him with a slight grimace. "Jimin's very much onto us at this point."

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, brushing your hair back from your forehead. "Do you want them to know?" he asks in a manner that makes your heart giddy like a schoolgirl. 

For a moment or two, you think to yourself. "Hm, I don't think I mind anymore," you smile, giving his tummy a little poke as you wiggle your brows at him. "It'd be nice to hold someone's hand more often."

His chuckle paired with a nose scrunch is an infectious bout of joy. "Maybe that someone would like that a lot, too, actu—"

"Noona, I left my—" 

The silence in the air is immediate—you and Yoongi frozen on the couch while Jungkook gawks at you two by the door. 

A second or two later, the scene finally clicks on the youngest's head and he grins. "You two are a thing!" he cackles, forcing you to rush and pull him into the apartment before he can run outside and tell Jimin what he sees. 

"Jungkook!" you shriek, shushing him with your hand over his mouth. "Shut up, and don't tell a soul about this. We haven't made plans for it yet."

Tattooed hands pry your hands off, still grinning with mischief. "What's in it for me?"

You glance back, seeing Yoongi now up from the couch with his arms crossed. "I'll buy you lamb skewers for a month?" you offer to the younger man.  

"I'll let you live," Yoongi drawls instead. 

"What did Jungkook do again this time?"

One after the other, surprises catch you off guard as you older brother, Seokjin, enters through the door, shedding his coat off as he looks at the three of you, bewildered. Damn, you didn't really want things to be found out this way. 

"Nothing," Jungkook coughs, most likely nudged on by your boyfriend. 

Still, your brother isn't one to be easily swayed by this, eyes squinting in suspicion. "Is it about the two of you?" He questions with one hand on his hips and the other pointing between you and Yoongi. 

"What do you mean?" you feign a smile of innocence, one your brother only laughs at. 

Seokjin comes between you and Yoongi, giving you both pats on the back—for trying, you suppose. "Everyone could tell, (Y/N)," he grins, giving Jungkook a knowing look. "You two aren't as slick as you think."

"Oh," you could only say, a part of you irked yet relieved all the same. You choose the brighter side, pulling away from your brother's hold and circling your arms around Yoongi's waist, who shyly holds you back. Finally, no more holding back.

A kiss to your boyfriend's cheek alone is enough to send your brother gasping, utterly offended. "Ya! Just because I'm allowing this doesn't mean you can be scandalous like this!"

[pascaloverx]

DANGEROUS

CHAPTER TWO

Summary: You are a retired spy trying to live a normal life. Some time ago, a hired assassin named Tangerine tried to kill you. In response, you sought the help of an old acquaintance who could fake any death, August Walker. However, now your false identity is in jeopardy, along with your life.

Warnings: For now, the fanfic will not contain explicit content, but it will be flagged if it does in the future. However, there will be the use of strong language and moderate violence. Readers are advised. The characters August Walker and Tangerine do not belong to me but to their respective creators. Some other characters that belong to both Mission: Impossible (2018) and Bullet Train (2022) may appear in this fanfic. Other characters who are not part of these movies will be of my own creation. I hope you enjoy the reading

chapter one chapter three

Tangerine is holding onto your arm tightly, causing some discomfort. He's making you lead him to your house. You just want to get rid of him as soon as possible, but it seems almost impossible. That's because he has a gun, almost too visibly strapped to his waist. And he took the gun you stole from Walker. Son of a bitch.

"You should know that my neighbor is a bit nosy, but she's nothing more than that. So if you try to shoot her or any other shit like that, I'll kill you. She'll probably ask who you are. Please don't say anything that makes you sound like a murderer." You tell Tangerine, who seems to be bothered by something. But after hearing you speak, he lets out a weird little laugh. Okay, not so weird; maybe even sexy.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I don't intend to cause any extra harm. But rest assured, if you try to play smart, I won't spare any efforts to..." He speaks as he walks alongside you, but you abruptly turn to face him. He seems intrigued but not surprised.

"Why cling to threats? If you want to settle this, settle it with me. Without involving innocent people. Understood?" You speak, a little enraged, looking Tangerine straight in the eyes. The eye contact between you almost feels like a competition of staring each other down. You want to show that you're not afraid because, in truth, you're not. What scares you is that this seems to excite Tangerine.

"You look extremely sexy trying to act brave. I can see why you and Walker built a relationship." Tangerine says, moving even closer to you, as if he's provoking you. You bite your lower lip lightly, thinking that sleeping with the enemy might not be a bad idea and then escaping death. But before you can think of something to reply, your neighbor, Mrs. Johnson, appears on her balcony. She asks who's there, looking in your direction, and Tangerine doesn't seem pleased by this.

"Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. It's me, your neighbor. I brought my late husband's brother for a visit. I hope I didn't disturb you." You say, positioning yourself in front of Tangerine in case Mrs. Johnson sees his weapon. Unfortunately, his body is so close to yours that you can feel his penis lightly pressing against your buttocks. Oops.

"My dear, it's good to see you're taking care of your late husband's family. Just come inside." Mrs. Johnson says kindly. You relax a bit when you notice Mrs. Johnson quickly retreating into her house. What's even more interesting is that Tangerine hasn't moved an inch away from you. He's simply clinging too close to your body.

"Does your neighbor usually meddle, or is it because you never have any company in this fake life you've created?" Tangerine speaks near your ear, his mustache lightly brushing against the corner of your neck.

"She cares about me. And for your information, this life is more real than any other I've had. I grew into espionage. I wasn't a person; I was a product. Now I have a neighbor who cares about me." You reply, knowing deep down he must understand you. Whether he likes it or not, your jobs are alike.

"Oh, my dear, I apologize if I gave the impression that I care about your personal life, my bad. But if you want to tell me your sad story while we're both in the horizontal position, I promise to pretend to care." Tangerine says as he rests his chin on your neck. You turn to face him, wanting so much to slap him in the face.

"Are you suggesting that sleeping with me might make you care about me on a personal level? If so, we can make a deal. You're decent enough." You say, objectifying him. The proposition itself is just an exchange of unnecessary comments, but if he agrees, maybe you'll consider it.

"You know what's the funniest thing about all this? I actually think I would accept your proposition." He says, moving closer to you as if challenging you. But you meet his gaze without flinching.

"Too bad, but now you're going to try to end me. And I'll find a way out of this and kill Walker. Maybe in another life, you'll have better luck." You say, getting very close to Tangerine. His lips look pink up close. In moments, you notice his approach, and even though you fear what he might do, you don't back away. Then Tangerine tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and lightly holds your face, pulling you towards him. His lips are quickly on yours. Your tongues are once again finding each other. While you run your hands through Tangerine's hair, he firmly grips your waist, almost reaching your butt.

"I don't like to leave anything for later. Which reminds me..." Tangerine grabs your two hands and restrains you with handcuffs. You're surprised but not shocked. But in the end, he even helped you. You hold on to your handcuffed hands and throw everything in his face. Without thinking much you run to your house which is not far away. You barely saw if your blow had any real effect on Tangerine. You just locked yourself in the house. Unfortunately you are not alone.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask, almost shouting. Obviously seeing Walker inside your house didn't make you happy. This damn hot traitor.

"I'm the one who should react like that, you left me in a bad way on that fucking train." Walker says, sitting on your couch. As if he were a damn husband waiting for his wife.

"So, let me get this straight. You hand me over to Tangerine, set a trap for me, and you're just upset because I decided, I don't know, to create a distraction to escape?" You would like to show more anger, but you're too busy figuring out how to escape this situation. Walker seems to have noticed that you're nervous, standing up from the couch and effortlessly throwing the couch against the front door.

"What did you do?" He asks as he grabs other heavy items and piles them against the door to make it difficult for Tangerine to enter.

"He kissed me and handcuffed me, so I used the handcuffs to hit him in the face. Just a reminder, I'm only in this mess because of you." You say, heading to a compartment in your living room that contains some weapons. Walker follows you, making sure to block the back door as well.

"So now it's my fault that you use your lips and then hit the people you were kissing?" Obviously, he would use that against you. You roll your eyes at him as you reach for one of your guns and hand it to him. With the time spent in espionage came the experience of doing things while handcuffed. But Walker grabbed some tool from the kitchen and broke the handcuffs. You didn't even know that was possible.

"You two are starting to look like a boring married couple. Now that you've stopped, let's have an adult conversation." Tangerine says, appearing as someone who must have invaded your house through one of the damn windows. You and Walker automatically look at each other, knowing that this conversation is going to be interesting.

[artist-of-dawn]

So High School

Chapter 2: "Tangerine? TANGERINE"

Next: "Holy arms"

Masterlist

a/n: fun facts apparently turned into confessionals and free rent living in each character's head

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"So? Whaddaya say?" Samu raises his head and asks with a little smirk.

"I say you better tell me why you look seconds away from plotting a murder. Most probably mine. Is this poisoned?" I gestured towards the last piece of strawberry mochi left on the plate.

"Ya ask that after the 7th piece?" I shrugged.

"It's really good. I say you should go for it." He nodded and left most probably to greet some customers while I fell deep in thought.

Nostalgia has been a lot more present in the last few days, and it got to me. I can't say that I miss home physically, but the warmth and radiance it brough. We've all made great memories here, but I cannot help but feel like something's missing.

I am usually not one to say I regret things I didn't do, it's a consolation price that I didn't make a fool of myself and the thought that I should be grateful for the choices I made still holds me together in some sense. But my resistance seems to slowly crumble at one tiny tiny question: if I did something-if one thing had been different, would everything be different today? Would my courage be rewarded with the warmth of a beating heart and a beaming smile, or would it be crushed by rotten delusion?

I pride myself by loving freely, but I have always been somewhat afraid of things that cross the borders of friendship, and I beileve that the only other thing that may best this fear is the slight ache for the warmth of feeling. But I'm turning 20 soon, should this be so hard? Should I still be afraid? I take a bite of the last mochi and make my way to change the music. I glance at the door and the restaurant is mostly empty. Perfect.

What could possibly fit better than "The 1" ?

°•I guess you never know, never know

And if you wanted me, you really should've showed

And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow

And it's alright now

But we were something, don't you think so?

Roaring 20s, tossing pennies in the pool

And if my wishes came true

It would've been you

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

I guess you never know, never know

And it's another day waking up alone

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

I, I, I persist and resist the temptation to ask you

If one thing had been different

Would everything be different today?•°

I rest my head on one of the counters, absorbing the meliodic melancholy of the song, up until I hear a voice simmilar to Samu's screaming from the restaurant.

"Oi! Cut off that depressive shit!" Shit. Atusmu's here.

It's not that I have anything against the guy, but he sucks a lot at flirting.

"Shaddap Tsumu!" Samu screamed back. Thank God. If that guy knew I was here, he'd never leave me alone until I left if he's in one of his macho moods. But before I could go back to fucking up Samu's playlist I heard a rich laugh.

"Come on Tsumu it was a nice song!" Even though the voice was slightly deeper I could never mistake it.

Now, I am not one to make any rash decisions, but....This is not my proudest moment. At least the brooms in the closet are pink.

Nope.

There is no way.

Last time I checked the dude was in Brazil trying out beach volleyball.

No fucking way I just saw red hair while bolting to the closet.

Nope.

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Fun facts:

- the movie night went well, everyone was in high spirits and the atmosphere was chaotically joyful, yachi was unable to stay till and squeacked every 5 minutes, tsukishima smiled a couple of times after receiving his little dino sketch from yn, shimizu and samu exchanged some recepies and koushi insisted on self care masks while watching the film.

-yn basically screeched while running towards the nearest closet and later wondered how in the hell no one heard her. Her breath was cut short when she realised who was on the other side of the wall.

-yn always refrained of romance because she was utterly afraid of it, of the rawness and wilderness. She liked stable, quiet and melodic. But everything changed once she got into karasuno high. She secretly wished he would say something, afraid that the shine in his eyes wasn't reserved for her and was a usuality for him. Yes. She wore his jersey and rooted for him. And he looked happy.

In case you wanna listen to the whole song:

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"I wanna find you in a crowd

Just to hide from you"

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: Bullet Train

I've been missing a few Film Fridays lately, partially because mental health has just kinda been like that and partially because I've been struggling with a slightly more meaty analysis that my brain just won't let me figure out properly. As such, I'm going to get into the swing of things again with a movie that is pretty stupid, and I say that with all possible love and admiration.

Ladybug isn't really comfortable with the title of hitman anymore, he's trying out a more harmonic life, but even so he does find it in himself to undertake what should by all accounts be a simple last-minute job. Board the eponymous train, grab a suitcase, and get off at the next station. Oh, were it only so easy. Turns out said bullet train is flush with kooky assassins and hitmen who are either out for the suitcase, the lives of one or more of each other, or have larger and more ominous designs.

There's Ladybug, of course, the quirky pair of British wetworks men Lemon and Tangerine out to escort a drugged-out VIP and a suitcase full of money, notorious and sneaky The Hornet who's skulking about somewhere, the megalomaniacal but brilliant Prince playing a larger game with the life of desperate father Kimura's child as ante, as well as the hot-headed Wolf who is out for vengeance and a paycheck, but mostly the vengeance thing. It's quite the web of coincidences, interferences, and merry chaos as these murderers navigate the crowded train.

It's chaotic, but one throughline that honestly makes the constant shifting priorities and allegiances of Ladybug and the other hitmen work is that it's all a job to them, a very messy job that may or may not be arranged by a Russian usurper of the Yakuza crime syndicate known as White Death, but still a job. Whenever it's expedient for our heroes and antiheroes to not kill each other, they'll show professional courtesy to each other, bantering in that "a little bit too cool" stylized way that's second nature to Hollywood assassins.

What sets the banter apart, though, is a distinct sense of humor. Lemon, much to Tangerine's annoyance, has a theory of human personalities and moral character based on Thomas The Tank Engine. Ladybug has luck that fluctuates wildly between being impossibly good and impossibly bad, and he has a problem with remembering faces which makes some of the networking with his fellow killers challenging. Wolf's role in the movie is short in a way that feels darkly comedic yet apt, and I was surprised to learn this was, in fact, a cameo from musician Bad Bunny (listen, I'm old, ok?)

It's all breezy fun. The movie takes itself about as seriously as any movie that features a Japanese-language cover of "Holding Out For A Hero" in a moment of high drama, but that's fine, the movie expects you to chuckle along, knowing full well it has your heart in a vise by the third cover of "I'm forever blowing bubbles." Not a joke by the way, the few moments that Bullet Train allows itself to express emotion more complex than "holy shit" and/or laughter, it's acted well enough and with enough genuine skill that it actually gets to me a fair bit.

It'd be an act of overstatement to call Bullet Train all that deep, but it adds up to more than the sum of its parts. It ends up saying some fun things about fate. I wouldn't exactly cite it in a philosophy paper or anything of the sort, it is fun to sit at the end of the "Michael Shannon plays Russian roulette in an oni mask to look badass" movie and go "You're right movie, maybe human misery DOES come from the hubris of believing ourselves to be masters over fate." I don't know, it's just nice for a crowd-pleasing action movie to go out on a note of what seems like a genuinely held belief and not "welp that happened" glibness. It reminds me a bit of Mr. and Mrs. Smith like that, a movie I'll probably end up talking about here one of these days.

[princeresnikov]

it's in my nature {Tangerine} // 4

four. tangerine: ego death at the venn diagram intersection.

Chapter Summary: it appears hard to convince The Son of the severity of their situation, though he just seems worried that their concerned about the wrong thing. because everyone knows about the woman who lost her arm for a late payment, but The White Death is capable of far more cruelty when he truly cares about the payload. and The Son proves himself to be far more observant and cruel when it comes to making sure his bodyguards are focused.

{ Masterlist }

A/N: 4509 words. i know this took a while but we're finally at part 4!! we get a lot of shit happening here, some implications, some accusations, as well as a whole flashback to New York!! the book is very liberal with it's flashbacks so we get one here. writing Tangerine's POV is sometimes a bit of a struggle characterisation-wise, considering everything that he has learned in literally five minutes, so please let me know if there's anything i could be doing differently/better, i love suggestions and i love feedback. have fun!!

Warnings: Don't be surprised when the OC is a terrible person and is implied to have done terrible things along with the rest of them. There will be smut in the future chapters.

Chapter Warnings: Discussion of how The White Death takes fingers as punishment, but a little more extreme than in the movie. impied smut at the end but its not explicit.

Taglist: @venusthepirate @malar-region @tangerinesgf @esmaada @sarcastic-sourwolf @djjskfkskjf @justshutupmars @somikesoc @chachadelight @andydre4m @evangelineflowers @darkchai @basementsoup @bellatrix124 @kunikidaswhore @thewinterschildren178 @felhomaly @perksofbeingamultifandomm @aniglio18 @geeiz @mimidior @justicex101 @ltlthetrifecta @salsasadd @tongerines

[ always open, just message or comment! ]

----

Lemon would probably call her a Diesel, and he'd be bloody well right to, Tangerine catches himself thinking with a scowl. The world outside slips by in the darkness, nothing more than scattered lines of light, disorientating anyone who tried to keep up, like Tangerine with his thoughts in this moment.

"My father hired the two of you," The Son's implied question of 'instead of her?' rang out infuriatingly clear. The audacity this kid has to look at his designated guards with disdain of all things, after everything they went through to make sure he was safe was almost enough to tip Tangerine over the edge and smack him after the series of revelations he'd just endured. But he's not. I'm not going to smack the son of The White Death; he wasn't the kind of person who had personal mantras, but this one was sounding pretty good right now.

"Yeah he did; your daddy hired us to get you out of the trouble you got yourself into, naughty, little frog," Tangerine's tone turns infuriatingly chipper, using the only non-violent way he can think of right now to get under The Son's skin. It clearly works, judging by the venomous look that's now being focused on him, "and we've all heard what tight a leash he keeps Miss Clementine on," there's something malevolent in his voice that he doesn't fight to hide, leaning in to make sure the other passengers can't hear his disparaging anger, "so I think if he wanted her on your case, he wouldn't have hired us." 

There's definitely more to read into this if he wanted to think about the implications of it all for even a few seconds, but he did not have the time or mental energy in this moment to spiral like that. Sitting up again, he finds once more that The Son's practiced flat expression irks him more than he ever wants to let on, like he's subconsciously hoping for a reaction, for proof that he holds even some power over this asshole.

"Is that why Tangerine?" This, the smugness, the look in his eyes like he's evaluating Tangerine across the table, this is worse than no reaction, even if Tangerine doesn't quite understand what he's asking or implying.

"What?" 

"If I were you," The Son shifts forward, oozing unwarranted condescension, "I wouldn't keep Tangerine knowing Clementine was alive." The mocking implication calls back to the stupid argument about whether or not Tangerine feels guilty about New York, which is a bloody moot point now all things considered, and the rest is nothing but an inaccurate guess meant to rile him up. I'm not going to take the bait, I'm not going to smack The Son, with each careful, controlled breath.

"Now seeing as the decisions you've made lead you to a place where you were able to be kidnapped as ransom bait by the Triad, despite you assumedly - well I bloody hope - knowing who your extremely psychotic, fucked up father is," Tangerine knows he's smiling by technicality only, to keep the surrounding passengers unaware of his sharply mounting frustration, "so I'm going to ignore your suggestion, considering, one;" holding up his hand with one extended finger for emphasis, "'s been my name for five years, and two," his smile grows wider, his tone grows brighter, the anger in his eyes still remains, "the decisions I've made are why we were hired by your dear, old dad, and why despite leaving seventeen dead bodies behind, you made it out with only a couple of scratches."

Finally a reaction from The Son, now petulantly scowling out the window, but thankfully keeping his mouth shut. It was enough to satisfy Tangerine's building frustration, letting himself breathe for a moment, ease the tense set of his shoulders, gazing back and forth down the aisle, refocusing, reassessing their carriage and their situation. No immediate threats. No Clementine. Relative peace, at least for a moment -

"Actually, it's sixteen." 

"What's that now?"

The second Lemon tries to correct him, there's that pesky twitch of his eyelid that he can't seem to repress no matter how hard he tries. No, it was seventeen. Seriously, how does he not remember all seventeen? Sure it's been a long day, they haven't exactly had much time to rest, and things have taken several turns for the unexpected, but - 

Christ. They're going through them, all seventeen. Each kill lines up in their memory as far as it seems, the order, the precision, the visceral feeling in close quarters. Memories fresh enough that he can almost smell the iron-rich blood splattered amongst the fish, neither brother is squeamish about taking pride in their work. But Lemon forgets the civilian. The one who exploded.

"Shit," as if it was so easy to remember once reminded, as if were so easy to forget in the first place, "that wasn't our fault," he adds, reiterating it to The Son beside him almost immediately, dodging any kind of accountability before he could even consider it.

"No? Well what would Thomas the Tank Engine say, Lemon?" Tangerine had no such need to avoid the truth of the matter; if he didn't acknowledge it, he wouldn't be able to learn from it, at least that's what he tells himself.

"That's really mean," Lemon had never liked how Tangerine would pick and choose when to indulge him in his interests, as it was more often than not used against him. Tangerine, however, was tired of having to use a children's animation to get through to his brother half the time. 

"He'd say 'take responsibility, mate'," case and point; Tangerine's mocking impression of the cartoon train does it's job of ruffling his brother's feathers, who's already defending the cartoon to The Son, as if he cared, as if that were the most important part of this all.

"He doesn't sound like that." 

Tangerine makes a mocking train horn noise. Okay, that bit was just to be an asshole.

Lemon chalks it up to compartmentalisation, quick to imply that Tangerine's insistent need to take on the responsibility of their collateral damage might be making him more volatile. There it is again, Tangerine's 'fixation' as Lemon calls it, on collateral damage, the implication of guilt. They could bicker in circles forever if they tried, Tangerine is sure of it, both knowing each other too well to ever have the upper hand for too long. Tangerine calls him childish for wanting to ignore an unavoidable part of their job that could be learned from as a profession, right up until Lemon crosses his arms and snaps -

"What'd you learn from Clementine then?"

"Clementine's clearly fucking different, don't do that -"

"She wasn't. Until today, she was collateral damage like all the rest of them -"

"Hey listen," The Son interrupts their argument with a mumble and an attempt to get up, "I'm just gonna get off at the next stop."

"Oh let's have a seat then," Lemon, beside him, eases him back into his seat without leaving any room for argument. However visibly annoyed The Son may be, he still sat, still was able to acknowledge when he was outmatched.

"You know that they call your papushka, little frog?" Tangerine can definitely see why Clementine used this nickname like a weapon; there was something so pleasing about seeing the exact grimace The Son makes every time he hears it.

"Fuck you," under his breath in Russian, like he thinks they won't understand it, then, quieter, "of course fucking I do -"

"The White Death," Lemon interjects pointedly, "not exactly a fruit." 

"No," Tangerine agreed, carefully fidgeting with a zip tie he'd fished from his pocket, both for something to do with his hands, and to keep The Son's attention off of Lemon securing his free hand to the other arm of the chair, "there's a story - stop me if you've heard it," he continues, keeping his tone light despite his words, "where this woman found herself in the unfortunate position of owing your father a tidy sum of money," of course The Son looks almost bored by the story, but Tangerine forges on ahead; even if The Son didn't take his father seriously, he needed to know that The Twins certainly did, "now the issue was it took her some time to acquire this money, but," he smiles sharply at The Son, "she did pay it back, five minutes late, didn't she?"

"Yeah, what'd he do?" Lemon, somehow unfamiliar with the story, asks. At least The Son seemed to be paying enough attention to know the story and how it ends. 

"Cut her arm off."

"Fuckin' hell!" Lemon sat up straight, wearing a look that fell somewhere between shock and horror. Hopefully he'd treat the assignment with more of the severity it deserves now that he apparently understands the full stakes.

"Yeah, said she owed him a finger for every minute," Tangerine explained, which did very little to improve his brother's current state, so he thought to clarify, "yeah, well, he's not a monster, he didn't make her sit through it five times, he just cut once, didn't he?" Immediately Lemon tightens the zip tie around the Son's wrist, securing him in place firmly, barely an ounce of wiggle room. "So our job is to keep you safe," Tangerine continues to his now properly captive audience blithely, "and to recover the briefcase with the ransom money inside-"

"You shouldn't worry about losing your hand," The Son tells him with almost the hint of a warning in his voice. Still, he tries to tug his arm free. It doesn't budge. So while Tangerine is about to say that he isn't, so long as The Son stayed put and didn't wander off, The Son, now cornered like an animal, doesn't give him the chance before feeling the need to lash out, "because the money didn't matter."

"What?" Lemon voices confusion for both brothers; did The Son not consider that enough motivation for his wellbeing?

"In that story, it's the principle that matters, not the money itself," there's something in his eyes that hadn't been there before, something about how his gaze darts to his hands and between both Lemon and Tangerine, something wild and even a little bit afraid, "my father has money, and actions have consequences; borrow from The White Death, you should know to expect serious repercussions if it is not paid back in time." It's different from his earlier paranoia, that had been veiled with arrogance; it finally felt like the reality of his situation had hit him, "I've seen it before, cruel on paper, but it's a routine punishment; it's why he takes them all at once," Tangerine thinks he saw a flash of this intensity in The Son's eyes when Clementine first called him a frog, but The Brothers let him speak, if only because it was refreshing to see him giving a shit about their mission, "but you speak like you think I also don't matter; talk all the shit you want, I am still The White Death's son." 

"It's fucked up, we're acknowledging that, but that's why you can't just hop off and wander 'round the city on your own," Tangerine, unsure of where this was all going considering he thought his own story was pretty well motivating for them all, crosses his arms expectantly.

"You should hope I simply arrive late and you lose a hand than what would happen if I do not arrive at all, because I have a story - stop me if you've heard it before -" he mocks Tangerine from just moments ago, glowering at him, projecting frustration to veil his fear, "the first and last time my father's precious, favourite associate failed him with something much more valuable than money," there's resentment in the way his lip curls into a sneer of disgust, the malice he spits the recollection, "because her unforeseeable, unavoidable failure was still failure. So he made an example, gave her an audience; four fingers were taken, but he made her take them herself, one at a time." As the memory settles over him, some of the frantic energy seems to leave The Son, who sits back in his chair.

"What the fuck," Lemon muttered under his breath, clearly sharing his brother's sentiment, "he made her cut off four of her own fingers?" Every new thing Tangerine learns about The White Death has him regretting taking this job on, because now that he'd heard it, Tangerine realises he did know the story, though he never believed it. It was like a myth, something too cruel to come to pass, something he assumed most would rather die before they endured as a spectacle.

"He told her he would kill her if she complained, so she didn't, ever again," expression drawn, the kid couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with either brother, looking instead at the tabletop in front of him, "it was an effective lesson for someone too useful to kill, and he likes her far more than he likes either of you."

"What did he care so much about that it was worth that kind of torment for the unlucky bastard who failed?" Tangerine frowned. Something about The Son's demeanour was clearly off, as if he hadn't anticipated being so shaken by his own recollection of the events. When he looks to Tangerine, his gaze is guarded again, bordering on hostility. 

"My mother," with The Son's harsh words came a sinking sensation in Tangerine's chest as he reads into the implications. There's the horror that comes when he considers the mother's bodyguard's 'failure' had simply been surviving the drunk driving collision that killed her client, "so even with my father's money," The Son looked back out the darkened window, as if trying to re-establish his aloof air from before, "you should know that your chances of leaving intact lower with each moment The Scorpion and I remain on the same train. You're fucking stupid to let her walk off."

"So we're not only in danger from your crazy ex, but because she's your crazy ex?" Lemon deadpans; he seems perturbed by it all, but not nearly as much as Tangerine had been expecting. It's here Tangerine starts to realise that Lemon may not even be away of the full context, either of the story of The White Death's wife, or The White Death himself. Never been the detail-orientated type for anything other than trains, Tangerine doesn't know why he still expects more, Lemon leans on him for that kind of focus.

"I think this is about the time you clue us in on what exactly the fuck went down between you and Clementine?" Tangerine scowled, trying to move on from the story and into comparatively less distressing topics.

"You honestly believe she's a real threat to you?" Lemon adds, just as sick of the clear doubts The Son kept voicing about them.

"As if that's any of your fucking business," the prick sits back, clearly feeling defensive all of a sudden.

"Considering it's kind of come down to kill-or-be-killed because of it, I think it's definitely worth knowing why she's so passionate about offing you," Tangerine refuses to back down, wearing a mean little smile as he needles the kid across from him. It takes an excruciatingly long time for The Son to finally find his voice again, refusing to relent on his defensiveness. 

"Like The White Death, it takes very little for The Scorpion to justify her own violence," he says very carefully, deliberating about each word he spoke, "what I had to offer her would never be enough and so she felt disrespected," it practically curdles on his tongue, whole expression turning nasty, "do not underestimate her capacity for cruelty just to prove a point. She could have left New York quietly but she orchestrated her own violent death in front of you both; she poisons everyone she touches in one way or another, it's in her nature." He sits back, clearly desperate to leave the conversation but bound to this moment against his will.

There are holes in The Son's story that are big enough to be craters, his victim mentality neon and obvious enough that Tangerine kind of wants to reiterate his mocking impression of Thomas from a few minutes ago; take accountability, mate. Because what he's saying and the way he and Clementine had been interacting for only a few minutes clearly indicates he's not nearly as shiny and blameless in their altercation as he wants to imply. Perhaps it's the last of his bias for the Clementine he remembers from New York, but The Son talks about Clementine like she's an unfathomable monster, despite how he clearly once liked her well enough to want her. 

"Oh, I get it now, like that fable," Lemon lights up with understanding, looking to Tangerine, "The Scorpion and The Frog." 

"You poor, little frog," is all Tangerine can say with a derisive shake of his head. Just to make sure they've got all their bases covered, however, he does find himself searching their immediate area for the briefcase of money. The Son may have been his priority, but he still wasn't keen on losing an arm over some money either.

"We'll keep you safe from the big, mean Scorpion," Lemon assures, patting The Son on the arm. As much as he tries to jerk away from the touch, making a face at their mockery, there's very little space for him to go. But The Son's feelings are once again the least of Tangerine's concerns.

"Lemon, where's the briefcase?" Having finally looked everywhere he could think of from his seat twice, Tangerine finally caves and asks his brother, hoping for a simple, pleasant answer despite the discomfort rising in him.

"Oh, I stashed it," Lemon's answer is far too casual for someone who assumedly would also like to end today with all limbs and extremities still firmly attached.

"The case, Lemon," he hisses, leaning forward as his hands are clasped on the table in an effort to mask his frustration, "go get me the fucking case." At least Lemon takes him seriously enough in this moment to stand and see about collecting the case. The minute he's is out of earshot, however, The Son turns on Tangerine.

"He doesn't know you have shit taste in women too, does he?"

Tangerine's blood runs cold.

"Fucking excuse you?" Tangerine tries playing dumb and defensive, but there's nothing teasing nor hesitant in the cold look The Son gives him. Too specific, said with too much confidence; it's not an accusation, it's a fact of which The Son is certain.

Obnoxious bastard, Tangerine is furious to think to himself, immediately followed by how the hell could he be so sure? In the brief few minutes they'd spent with Clementine, he was sure they'd been on the same wavelength considering the situation, both so careful to not even so much as imply a less than platonic history, making only incidental or purposefully discrete contact if any. Nothing had been incriminating in hindsight, Tangerine's hand on her thigh completely hidden, perhaps even something of a power play given the situation, an attempt to keep her in line, like his touch would remind her what he was capable of. It had worked; if nothing else it had worked to keep her from making a scene, but that left only one conclusion to be drawn. Because The Son had seen in minutes what Tangerine can tell Lemon has always been oblivious to. Despite all the half-truths and obvious contempt he now held for her, The Son knew Clementine better than either of them would ever let on, and it had left Tangerine compromised.

Fuck.

"You're a liability," The Son continues maliciously, like Tangerine's inner monologue was shouting loud enough to hear, "to my father, to your partner;" he doesn't pull his punches, "Clementine preys on weak links."

"Suppose that's why she got with you in the first place, huh frog boy?" Even Tangerine's biting use of the nickname doesn't seem to faze The Son in this moment. I'm not going to smack The White Death's son.

"Your denial makes you a fucking idiot," he spits in response, "how have you not realised you were set up?"

"If this is a little test from your daddy dear, Lemon and I are more than up to the challenge."

"New. York." The Son overemphasises his words as if speaking to a child, but the beginnings of a realisation flicker to life in the back of Tangerine's mind. New York; the month with Clementine, she died in front of them, she's actually alive and here and is actually a deadly operative. Three thoughts he knew revolved around each other, but part of him didn't want to think about connecting just yet. 

"It has a name," The Son continues when all the reaction Tangerine gives is to frown, "I can't recall, but my father liked to give these contracts to Clementine. Delicate matters; thieving, killing, blackmail, all sorts of variations with one commonality that made Clementine especially effective," he's dancing around the idea by now, waiting to see how long it takes for the dots to connect, "sweet-something, I think. Like honey."

"A honeypot?" Tangerine deadpans. It hasn't quite clicked yet; denial is a hell of a drug, "you think Clementine was running a honeypot while we were all in New York? What, on our target? I highly doubt it; The Scorpion kills her competition, always has, everyone knows that." 

For a very long moment The Son gives Tangerine a calculating look, eyes narrow and disparaging. Whatever it is he may be looking for in Tangerine, he seems to come up with something he doesn't like. When he smiles, however, it's cold and cruel.

"So you think Clementine fucked you in New York because she loved you?"

Because there's the obvious answer; no, fucking of course not. Because they knew each other for a month, and it was never anything serious, and the hurt- the anger is easily justifiable given the context. There's the scathing 'is that what you believed? Is that why you're like this?' but even in his mind it sounds too defensive, too much at an attempt to deflect. He won't lash out, it's too telling, he's better than that. So he also finds himself considering; no it wasn't bloody love, but frankly I've never been able to explain why I gave a shit about her, since I can't say that for many people who aren't my brother, and to find out that it was all by some malicious design is taking some time to sink in.

Tangerine's expression is carefully neutral, refusing to give any sort of reaction to the question despite how close he was internally to strangling The Son himself. 

And then there's the truth. The ego-shattering truth. If he'd never seen her again, Tangerine knows he would have gone to his grave believing in everything Clementine had said and done in New York. 

It had felt like Clementine would have done anything he asked, which, in hindsight, makes Tangerine feel sick to his stomach. His ego had soaked up her attention, her praise, her willingness to fall into bed with him without asking questions about the blood stain on his shoes. The way she'd looked at him, eager to please, always ready to help him the moment he walked into the hotel and spotted him from the front desk, she was charmingly innocent, full of puppy love and useful information; he'd taken advantage of one to get the other. Leading her on was merely resource management, testing how useful she could be; information was one thing, but Tangerine was nothing if not resourceful.

It only takes a week for him to be sure, the first week of a month-long delicate operation. The fight wasn't part of that operation, the fight was a point of pride at a local pub that wasn't any real threat beyond some superficial wounds. Still, the pretty hostess whose been unexpectedly warm and eager to accommodate him looked concerned as he'd made a frustrated beeline for the elevator, looking markedly more dishevelled than when he'd left that afternoon.

"If there's anything you need, sir, please let us know!" She'd called, while he'd thrown her a tight smile, stepping into the elevator and rapidly jabbing at the button for his floor.

But fine, he'd reasoned upon getting back to his infuriatingly mild hotel room and poorly stocked medical kit, he calls the front desk. If he's making choices to suit his own pride and ego today, he could start on properly securing an informant. 

Clementine had her own medical supplies and a steady hand. Clementine never took off her gloves because she claimed her prosthetics were cold to the touch without them. Clementine's laugh was as bright and refreshing as her namesake. Clementine had blushed when she admitted to wearing nice underwear since she'd first seen him in the hotel as a form of wishful thinking. Clementine had been pliant and willing beneath him, and Tangerine, who spent his whole life taking orders and making sure his partner's needs were seen to, if only to keep up his reputation, had finally felt as if he'd met someone whose joy came from pleasing his every desire. It had been unfamiliar, but not unpleasant.

In the end, Tangerine had been happy as the bad guy in Clementine's story, the bastard who lead her on, manipulated her, used her, and gotten her killed, it was a role he was comfortable in at the end of the day. It had been safer. She hadn't been a loose end. He didn't have to think about if she had survived and he had just left --

Yes, he would have thought she fucked him in New York because she loved him, but that was the point! That was always the fucking point! The distrust weaving through his memories grows thorns. He need to stop thinking about it; The Son, across the table, can probably see in his eyes that he's gone to New York, just as Lemon had pointed out before. He hates the look in that bastard's eyes; Tangerine's thoughts are a mess, growing traitorous, jealous teeth when he thinks too hard about The Son and his questions and his fucking history with Clementine.

The truth really did make him feel like a liability. 

And he has no real answer.

When the phone goes off it feels like an actual godsend. Thank fuck. Thoughts on more immediate, less loaded things. 

Unknown caller; undoubtably one of The White Death's associates checking in, making sure everything was under control. All things considered, The Son was secured in his seat, Lemon would be back with the case in a moment, and Tangerine was optimistic that he and his brother were more than capable of stopping Clementine if she did end up trying anything. 

Tangerine answer the phone. It's an excuse to get up, get even a few feet away from The Son even just for a few moments. If he ever sees that smug, knowing look on that bastard's face again, it'll be too soon.

[ltlthetrifecta]

Tanbug/Tangbug OTP Questions

OP: @lavenderotpprompts

Enjoy this long Tangbug post. Feel free to reblog w your own twist too! I’d love to see it.

Red = Ladybug Orange = Tangerine Black = Both

Let’s go!

What is each member’s love language?

Ladybug is really big on words of affirmation, whenever he’s down, Tangerine will shower him with reassurance and compliments until he sees his precious little Ladybug crack a smile.

Tangerine LOVES physical affection. More than he’ll probably ever admit. There’s nothing that can beat coming home to Ladybug and laying his head in Ladybug’s lap as he gets his hair played with. He doesn’t freely give physical intimacy, so for him to be like this with Ladybug is huge.

What would they describe as their perfect date?

They can both agree on this one—a night in, watching a movie they finally agreed on after fighting a bit, and being with each other. It’s nice to get away from the noise (even though if there’s one thing Ladybug will do, it’s chat).

Who made the first move?

Okay but surprisingly, it was NOT Tan, Ladybug had to say fuck it and just overtly flirt with Tan. If he hadn’t, Tan would 100% still act like he hated Ladybug, though towards the end he was fooling no one.

Who is more sentimental?

Tangerine without a doubt. Very big on gift giving, he goes out of his way to buy Ladybug anything he thinks he’ll think or anything he thinks remind him of Ladybug. “The teddy bear reminded me of you, it has a tiny bucket hat and everything, love.” 🥹

Which member calls the other in to kill the spiders?

Ladybug is the resident spider killer in the house. (The irony.) Tangerine isn’t scared of a lot of shit but a spider is one of them.

Who falls asleep first?

It’s a toss up, but most of the time it’s Ladybug. Tangerine’s favorite thing is to just look at how beautiful Ladybug is—run his fingers through his hair softly and memorize every line and curve of his face.

Who wakes up first?

Ladybug. Easily the happiest morning person ever. It drives Tan insane sometimes. Most times before Ladybug decides to get up for the day, he’ll take his time and now it’s his turn to admire Tan. Tan is a light sleeper so he doesn’t run his hands through his hair, but he will lightly trace over the tattoos engraved into his husband’s skin. How did he get so lucky? He smiles and his heart and soul feel so content.

Who is more more relaxed/carefree?

Overall, more so Ladybug although both tend to worry. It took A LOT of sessions with Barry to get Ladybug to where he is today.

What’s one way their personalities compliment one another? (Is it opposites attract or are they pretty similar?)

Ladybug and Tan are perfectly opposite. What one lacks, the other brings to the table. They have their fair share of similarities, but it’s their differences that make them compliment each other the most. Missing halves to a whole.

Who is always cold?

Ladybug always has a sweater on when he’s home. Tangerine refuses to put the air down any lower than 68° F. “If I wanted to live in the Arctic I would, but I don’t. Can you please turn the air off? PLEASE.”

Which member is always trying to bring home stray animals and which member always has to say no?

Who worries more?

They both worry around the same amount. (My folks with anxiety—you know how it is! 🥹)

What are some non-sexual activities they do together?

Watch movies/tv shows, kill people oops I mean go on missions, go to the cafe, cuddle and read to each other.

Who would be able to talk their way out of a speeding ticket?

Them? Obeying the law? Actually stopping for a ticket? Yeah, no. Their way of talking themselves out of a ticket is not stopping to get one in the first place.

Who is the better cook?

Tangerine. Ladybug loves his cooking. He’s always trying new recipes and he loves to be in the kitchen. One of Ladybug’s favorite but rare sights: Tangerine dancing, swaying to the music playing in the background as he’s focused and lost in cooking a meal.

What are some things they don’t agree on?

Organization, therapy, football, tv shows/movies, clothes…

Which member is more physically affectionate?

Tangerine 🗣️. He can’t seem to go a second without touching Ladybug in some way. Hand holding his, fingers intertwined, hand on his lower back, fingers in his hair—the list goes on.

Which member is more verbally affectionate?

Tangerine again surprisingly, especially now that they’re married. Being that Ladybug’s love language is words of affirmation Tan became so much more comfortable being affectionate in this way.

How does each member feel about PDA?

No PDA. It’s not their thing. They have to keep up appearances that people easily see through anyways.

Who’s the safer driver?

As crazy as Tangerine drives, he’s safe. “We almost died!” “Are you dead though? Okay. That’s what I thought.”

What’s each member flirting style?

Ladybug: tries to flirt but just ends up embarrassing himself. He’s the type to try and lean on the door frame to look sexy and he ends up missing and falling to the side.

Tangerine: such a good flirt, but also cheesy when he wants to be.

Which member steals borrows the other ones clothing?

Okay! Hear me out, Tangerine steals Ladybugs pjs at home and he’s always stealing borrowing his fuzzy slippers. When they go out they have pretty different styles, but when they’re at home pjs are pjs. Tangerine likes the soft pj pants Ladybug buys and is always wearing them to bed sans a shirt. “These are our pants, our slippers. What’s yours is mine and what’s mine is mine. That’s the vow we made.”

Who is the cuddle initiator?

Both of them are at any time. They’re literally attached at the hip when they’re alone.

Are they an introverted couple or an extroverted one—AKA would they prefer to go out to a party or event together or would they rather stay in?

Introverted couple all the way. With their jobs they’re around people all the time. It’s nice to have a night in and just be alone together.

Who is the big/little spoon?

Big spoon: Tan

Little spoon: Ladybug (sometimes if Tan falls asleep first, Ladybug gets to be big spoon).

Who is more likely to make an impulsive decision and who is the voice of reason?

Tangerine is the more impulsive one of the two for most things. No one can calm Tangerine down like Ladybug does, he keeps him grounded. Get you a partner like Ladybug.

Who’s more likely to laugh at their own jokes?

Let’s say it all together—Ladybug. This isn’t up for debate.

Barry: You often use humor to deflect trauma Ladybug: Thank you Barry: I didn't say that was a good thing Ladybug: What I'm hearing is, you think I'm funny

Who takes longer showers?

Tangerine without a doubt. He has such a in depth shower routine which involves relaxation, shower time, skin care, and keeping up his facial hair. “If you put the time in to look good then you feel good.”

Who is “more loved” by the in-laws?

Neither are on speaking terms with their parents. They have the family they need right here though.

Who is more likely to get jealous?

Definitely Tangerine. He’s a confident man—I mean look at him, why wouldn’t he be?—but there’s something about someone chatting Ladybug up that brings out the green eyed monster we call jealousy. He hates going on honeypot missions when his Ladybug has to seduce a mark (god bless his soul).

What was the most surprising thing they learned about one another once they started dating?

Ladybug has his serious and dark moments. He presents himself as happy-go-lucky and aloof but when a mission has really gotten to him Tan sees a side of him that he doesn’t like. It makes him hurt to see Ladybug hurt.

Tangerine is sensitive and vulnerable when he wants to be. Tangerine and Lemon didn’t have the easiest childhood, jumping from foster home to foster home. So when he’s vulnerable with Ladybug, Ladybug knows to be extra gentle with him. He wants to cherish Tan and love him so much he takes away the pain. And he wants to hurt anyone who ever hurt Tan and made him feel like he wasn’t worthy of love like this.

Who stays up way too late and who tries to drag them to bed?

Ladybug is always trying to drag Tangerine to bed when he moves around in his sleep and doesn’t feel Tangerine next to him. “Come to bed, I need you to sleep.”, “In a bit, love.”, “Baaaaabbee, come here.”

Who’s messier?

Ladybug! It KILLS Tangerine who likes to have everything in order. It’s a constant battle at home. “Why are there pants next to the hamper and not in them? Fucking hell.”

Which member is more likely to accidentally spend $300 at Target?

Tangerine. But is it really an accident? He has the means to spend the $ so why won’t he? With them being away on missions all the time, it’s rare he gets to spend the money he’s making so when he gets the opportunity or want to spend he will.

Who wanted/would want kids first?

Kids aren’t for them. With the lives they lead, it’s just not feasible. BUT if it had to be anyone it’d be Tangerine wanting kids.

Who gives piggy back rides to the other?

Neither. Enough said. 😭

Who fell in love first?

It was love at first fight. They both became interested in one another in Japan, however the first to fall in love was most definitely Tan.

[bonesandthebees]

omg OMG dont even get me STARTED on honey and tangerines

i've genuinely been meaning to reread it this summer, THAT FIC IS ONE OF MY FAV THINGS IN THE WORLD... THE VIBES-

like okay yes almost all of ur fics are my fav in the world, but honey and tangerines hits DIFF man

i started that fic thinking the main conflict was going to be crimeboys, and then angelduo came in with a sledge hammer holy shit

dude. that convo in chapter eight SMACK CAMMED ME SO HARD

like

i remember reading the summary and being like "ooo!! skateboarding", i didnt even clock how the part with phil could be ominous man like-

oooh boi

[takes a deep breath]

im getting emotional thinking about it rn, i havent read this in so long ohmgyod i miss this fic:(

side note before i get into my full mental breakdown over the ConvoTM, i never wanted to learn how to skateboard till i read this fic lmfaoooo

idek why, i was just... never interested, even my bf was like YOO ITS SO COOL and i was like Eh

and then i read this chapter and i was like "... maybe it Can be cool"

brooo BROOO

okay yeah that convo...

i think it's the hardest i've cried reading any of ur fics, normally i tear up and yknow do my whole Pterodactyl screech, but i dont often full blown cry, but holy shit man. Honey and tangerines? I'm pretty sure I bawled.

uh oh im crying again rereading this scene BROO ITS JUST SO WJEAFOIAWEOIRJAWEROIAWEROIWAERJAWEOIJRWAOIERKJLWERJOIWEJWEARIJ

ow

im in pain again

anYWAYS

god this fic is actually the greatest fucking thing in the world i love it so much bee u have no idea bro i adore it to my core :(((

i dont know how to describe it but ooohh my goodness

i just :(( idk i love indie vibes a lot

like... one of my favourite movies is Perks of Being a Wallflower. Indie movies are really important to me bc it just :( it makes me feel like My life will be okay, if their life works out. and... slice of life vibes are just the best

and honey and tangerines is the perfect fic to ever indie vibe, the playlist, the little fluff moments, the climax, everything about it is perfect. i can't describe how perfect it is. i adore it sosoosososososososoosososoo much

i also can... oddly relate to tommy in this fic, more than i thought. my mom didn't have mental health issues but I did have to take care of myself more than I was supposed to when I was younger, and there were a lot of parallels in this fic even though the situations were completely different, that it just... hit a lot harder for me than most fics normally do. especially like... i have a half sibling that i have a super complicated relationship with and crimeboys in this fic almost reminded me of it.

i just :(( honey and tangerines is so so important to me, and it's also just beautifully written, content aside. i love the prose in it. the way you describe everything feels so natural and real. i felt truly immersed. i lose sense of what's around me a lot quicker than i normally do when i read fics. it just instantly grabs my attention.

god, it's written so fucking well.

another way it's affected my life is after i read the laundromat chapter, it gave me the courage to ask my bf to dance w me for the first time. as i've always loved dancing but i've always been super shy about it. but reading that scene just filled me with such joy, that i had to ask my bf, and now it's one of our fav things to do :))

idk man like. wf is the fic that first made me obsessed with your writing. stars is one of the most well written and impressive things i've ever read and heyyy sandduo centric babyyy. also the WORLD BUILDING IS SO COOL. what the water gave me is the fic out of all of ur fics that makes me the most emotional /pos. a dusty tomb is my personal fav comfort fic, it's so fucking cute i love it so much (and the clinic prequel is same vibes as well). ur vamp fics are addicting as hell to read.

but honey and tangerines is the fic that's affected my life the most <3

(god sorry for the long rant, this was not meant to be this long LMAO SFDKAJ)

honey and tangerines was such an interesting fic for me to write because it connected to my irl life in so many subtle ways. I put those nods into my life in a lot of my fics, but honey and tangerines was the one most directly based out of my own life although it was mostly just the concept of having ex step-siblings that I pulled from. I also thought the main conflict was going to be crimeboys going into it, although I knew I wanted a focus on angelduo as well. but then as the story progressed I understood tangerines!tommy a lot more as a character, and his relationship with phil just expanded into so much more. I'm so happy with how it all turned out, and I'm sorry for all the tears I made you shed lol

(this response got long oops so I'm gonna put it under a cut)

you totally get my love of coming of age/slice of life indie movies. I've always been a big movie watcher, and nothing hits quite like a really well done coming of age film. ironically though, the perks of being a wallflower was one I originally wasn't a movie I was very impressed with the first time I saw it. it wasn't until I read the book and then rewatched the movie years later that I was like oh. I think for me two coming of age indie-type films that really hit for me were Lady Bird (because the relationship between Lady Bird and her mom hit very close to home in certain spots for me), and this one called Cha Cha Real Smooth. Cha Cha especially hit for me bc it's about a 22 year old who just graduated college and is trying to figure out where to go now, and I watched it only a few months after I'd turned 22 and graduated college and was floundering for what to do next. so yeah, that one helped me in the same way you described with the whole "maybe my life will work out like theirs" sense.

I'm so glad I was able to capture those vibes in the aesthetics of it all. that was half my motivation for writing it ngl. I just really wanted to try and capture that summertime haze with the descriptions and the playlist and all of it.

I'm sorry you could relate to aspects like those in the fic, but I'm also really glad it was able to provide a source of comfort for you <3

that's so sweet that you asked your bf to dance with you after reading the laundromat scene!! and the skateboarding too is so cute. I'm gonna be honest I do not know how to skateboard nor have I ever had a desire to learn, I just liked the aesthetics of that scene lmao. I hope you've been having a really good time dancing and skateboarding with your bf since though :)

icyfox aaa you're so kind though seriously thank you for all of that. one of my favorite parts about having this 'audience' (for fanfic lmao but it's an audience nonetheless) is hearing how the stories I create for my own joy impact your real lives. like, it's just amazing to me the reach my words can have, and I'm so happy you were able to get so much out of this story. ty for this it made me smile a lot

[bylightofdawn]

WIP Sunday Monday

I managed a little under 1K tonight so I'm going to take that W.

This scene is pretty spoiler free so I'm going to post it. Mij and Jango continue to have an interesting dynamic in that I feel like Mij is so frank and no-bullshit that he doesn't mince words with Jango and he appreciates it which in turn makes him prone to opening up to him more than other people he's closer to. Because....teenagers. Well that, and sometimes you just want an adult to talk to you like you're not a child.

Jaster and Plo continue to be the worst-kept secret in the True Mandalorians to boot.

Standard warnings apply, super rough draft, I haven't even looked at what I'm posting so it might be utter shit.

But I DID discover a new synthwave mix on Spotify to listen to while writing so that's exciting. I also did not realize that Tangerine Dream who wrote the ORIGINAL Legend soundtrack is considered synthwave or one of the precursors and that just explains so much about why I love this genre so much. I owned that shit on tape. Loved By the Sun is still one of my favorite songs ever. Also Tron: Legacy soundtrack falls into it too that's hands down my favorite movie soundtrack ever. The fact Daft Punk only wrote two movie soundtracks before they broke up is one of my greatest musical sad points. Actually, I was wrong I thought they did another movie beyond Tron: Legacy but I guess they only wrote that one. Even worse. :( I like Daft Punk but I'm not a HUGE Daft Punk or EDM fan in general. I appreciate it and enjoy a lot of it. My twenties were very much into bands like Infected Mushroom and a lot of random ass European house and trance bands but I kinda floated out of the scene after that. But Tron: Legacy soundtrack was on a whole other level. Synthwave definitely scratches that born and raised on 80's movies electronic soundtrack itch very nicely that I have.

I'm gonna put the laptop away and try and convince my brain to stfu so I can try and sleep now.

By the time Mij made it back to base, some semblance of order had been restored. Myles was passed out on the couch with his head laying in Jango’s lap. The boy’s eyes were red-rimmed and he still looked upset but he’d composed himself somewhat Mij was a little worried that his hand hadn't strayed from the blaster sitting next to him on the couch.

“Where’s Jaster?” Mij asked, making an effort to try and keep the bark from his question despite his own uncertain temper. He had no karking clue what was going on and it was starting to piss him off.

“Downstairs talking to the other delegates, I think he’s trying to put a hunting party together for Montross.”

“Fine, that’ll keep him busy. How are you, verd’ika? What about Myles? What the hell happened to him?”

Jango’s mouth condensed to a grim, bloodless slash and Mij knew he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of him. So he busied himself with pulling out a scanner and started to monitor the unconscious Kiffar’s vitals.

They were all strong and steady thankfully. He found no overt sign of injury which only puzzled him further.

“I take if your father wanted you to stay here and make sure Myles was okay?”

“Yeah, it’s dumb. Montross isn’t going to come here.”

“He won’t but if he were to contact Death Watch and warn them we’re down three people they might decide to get ballsy and press their luck. I’m sure the thought has crossed your father’s mind.”

“I’m not a useless kid.” Jango spat that last word like it was something filthy or unclear.

“Jango, he’s not treating you like a child. He’s trusted you to guard your friend and superior officer’s back.”

“Don’t patronize me, Mij. I screwed up and Montross got away because of it.”

“That I can’t speak of since I kinda came in halfway through. Let’s say you’re right and you did screw up. What can you learn from that mistake and how you can you avoid repeating it?” Mij asked gently and stowed his scanning unit away.

“ If you want my opinion? I think you’re so desperate to prove yourself that you’re potentially taking risks you don’t need to. Maybe that’s just inexperience, maybe just dumb teenage impetuousness.”

“I was just so angry. He tried to have me killed. I knew he didn’t like me but I didn’t know he hated me that much.” There was a strange note of wounded vulnerability in the teenage boy’s voice and Mij was reminded once again just how young Jango was in a lot of ways.

Having grown up outside the Mandalorian culture, even he struggled at times with understanding letting a teenager like Jango being exposed to the dangers of an active campaign but there was also the politics and other dangers beyond avoiding getting your head blown off by an enemy blaster bolt.

It was one thing to have an enemy try and kill you, another to have a supposed ally apparently hire a Death Watch assassin to try and kill you supposedly because you were in the way of whatever stupid political machinations you had.

“I don’t know kid. I don’t know what the hell is going on anymore.”

Stars, he wasn’t a man who was prone to violence but in that moment, if Montross had been in the room he would have shot the son of a bantha-karker in the gut and let him bleed out in gruesome agony.

Mij could only imagine what was going through Jaster’s head right now but judging by the kill order he’d just put out, it wasn’t anything good.

“Come on, I think between the two of us, we can move him into his room. He’ll probably be more comfortable there. I can set up an IV drip easier there too.” He didn’t mention he didn’t particularly want them to stay here, exposed and with nothing to prevent a opportunistic Death Watch member from trying to snipe them from the still broken window.

Mij could have carried Myles all on his own but he wanted to give Jango something to focus on. The boy seemed to consider it for a moment before nodding. He grabbed the blaster that had been sitting next to him on the couch and shoved it into the waistband of his lounge pants and carefully lifted Myles’s head from his lap so he could climb to his feet.

“Do you think we should call Plo Koon?” Mij asked as he wrapped his arms underneath the younger Mandalorian’s shoulders while Jango picked up his feet.

A surprised look flashed across the boy’s face before he managed to lock down his expression into something more natural. “I don’t think Jaster would want that. I don’t think he told him we were hunting for Death Watch.”

“It’s not about what he wants, it’s about what he needs. I think having his Jedi around might help keep calmer heads prevailing right now.”

Jango grimaced at Mij calling Plo Jaster’s Jedi as they carried the unconscious Myles down the hallway towards the man’s room. He didn’t want to admit it but even the weight of carrying the other Mandalorian’s feet was making his stomach muscles twinge unpleasantly. He had the sneaking suspicion he had some new bruising courtesy of Montross’s rough treatment.

“So…you know then?”

“Wait? Was it supposed to be a secret? If so? That’s like the worst kept secret ever.”

The pained look on Jango’s face would have been laughable in any other circumstances.

[fookinfandoms]

all in a days work

pairing: tangerine x female spy! reader

plot: The twins have been hired for a high risk job, unbeknownst to them that they weren’t the only ones. You just happened to be first.

authors note: i’m really writing something for a mf named TANGERINE. but I loved the movie and I loved his character. Mwah. Let me know if this is too ooc! I love feedback!

Not edited.

3.2k words

PART TWO HERE

warnings: no smut in this one, potentially part two. language, mentions of blood, violence, they’re assassins idk what you expect tbh, you both fight each other :)

 “Did you seriously knock my brother out with a fryin’ pan?” Tangerine yells out, stopping you in your tracks. The lights of the kitchen flickered on and off, loud music bouncing off the walls from the club outside. 

Lemon lay unconscious behind a counter, his head now sporting a rather nasty mark. Tangerine stood near the exit, one hand on his gun and the other holding a hard drive. His eyebrows were furrowed as glanced between you and his brother. 

Your head tilts to the side as you shrug. “He had a gun and I didn’t, I think he got off easy.” 

The gears turn in his head, wondering whether or not you were worth the effort. He waves his gun in your direction. “What’s this then?”

“Just another obstacle in the way,” You haven’t moved an inch, taking the time to plan your next move. You haven’t fought the twins before, but they were famous in the industry. Messy, yes, but they got shit done. “I’m going to need that hard drive however, and it would be a shame to put a mark on such a pretty face.” 

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He retorts, shoving the small device into his coat pocket. “Feelings mutual, but I’ve got the gun darling, and it seems like you’re all out of frying pans.”

Frustration crawls over your skin, and he smirks, believing he had you cornered. Tangerine can see your eyes glancing between him and the door behind him, and he almost considered letting you leave, albeit empty handed, until he remembered his brother on the floor. 

“You know,” He really thought thought he had the upper hand on you. “I’ve heard of you two before, the fruity twins and I-“

“Fruity twins? Are you having a laugh?” He interrupts, and it was your turn to smirk as he glares. “Fuckin' fruity twins?” “I mean, you are Tangerine and Lemon right?” You retort, pointing at his brother. “I’ve heard a lot about you two, Bolivia yeah? Hard stuff that, left quite a name for yourselves. Fruity names however, but names nonetheless.”

“You think you’re funny don’t you?” He hisses, his finger itching to pull the trigger a little more than before. “Who even are you?”

One more minute.

The muscle in his jaw ticks as you shrug again. “I think I’m pretty funny, I mean… I did just take down a fully grown man with a skillet, that’s a story for the grandkids don’t you think?”

“That didn’t answer my question, who are you and why do you want this?” He pats his coat pocket, a reminder he and his brother had gotten to the intel before you. 

“Angel,” You told him truthfully, watching as his eyebrow raises at the admission. “And I was hired, just like you.”

“Fitting name,” What a cruel punishment the universe has bestowed upon you. A gorgeous man with an accent flirting like it was his second language - with a gun aimed at between your eyes. “How much?”

You swallow and look around him quickly. “One million.”

“Christ, one million? We were offered half of that! Who fuckin’ hired you and off-“ Tangerine wasn’t able to finish his sentence as a loud bang swallowed you both. Dust and small pieces of the ceiling fell around, filling the air as multiple little bombs went off in unison through the building. 

There was the back up plan. They weren’t big enough to kill anyone, rather stun. A last resort in case you had been caught up.

Tangerine drops his gun as he covers his head in an attempt to hide from the debris, and you quickly take the time to kick the piece of metal away from him as your other leg rises and knees him in the side. He grunts, and as your leg raises for another kick, Tangerine pounces forward, grabbing your waist roughly and uses his weight to push you into a counter behind. 

You head is knocked back at the impact, and before the man in front of you can move you’re already throwing your elbow at his cheek. He curses, baring his teeth like a wild animal as he blocks another hit thrown his way. Pushing yourself off the cool metal, he holds his hands up in defence, shaking his head as you await his next move. 

“I really don’t want to do this.” He grunts out, his hair sticking in all directions. 

“So you could shoot me but a fist fight is off the table?” You push away the stray hair that had fallen out of its up-do, a laugh leaving your lips. “How noble.”

“I’m giving you an opportunity to leave here with your life,” He steps to the side with a smile, the exit behind him looking better than ever. “I have what I need, don’t need to add to the body count.”

Tangerine again pats at his coat pocket, but his smile slowly disappears as he feels nothing. His hand slides in, and he immediately begins patting at all possible pockets on his person. “What the fuck.”

“This?” You hold up the hard drive, wiggling it around before sliding it into the safety of your bra. “You’re not that bright are you?”

He sighs before turning his gaze to the roof, shaking his head with a string of curses. “Something tells me you like the idea of being thrown around love,” Tangerine slides off his coat and throws the material to the ground, rolling up his sleeves as you grin. “A little too much.”

You jerk your chin at him with a chuckle. “I do love a good tussle.”

Tangerine pounces and you’re already sliding out of the way, grabbing at a loose wine glass and throwing it at his head. The glass shatters and a grunt escapes him as the shards dance around him, but he doesn’t have time to register as you’re swinging your knee into his stomach again - the same spot as before. His muscles tense at the pain in his body, and he throws a punch, getting you in the collarbone. You stumble back at the force, but another grin grows realising he wasn’t holding back.

He raises his arm to swing again, but using the counter as leverage, you lean backwards, letting your legs wrap around his upper half and twisting - sending the larger man to the ground. He slides beside his brother as you catch yourself, kneeling beside him. His eyes widen at the sudden action, and you’re already raising your fist when he moves his head, dodging the blow. 

Your fist hits Lemon, and you release a little gasp at the mistake. He doesn’t budge however, still knocked out by the frying pan from before. Tangerine uses his long leg to kick you away from him, rolling onto his belly as he notices his gun hiding under a grill. He reaches for it, but you’re quicker than him - throwing yet another glass his way as his covers his head. 

“Stop throwing fuckin’ glasses!” He shouts, dodging another. 

“I have a whole set here,” You reply, reaching for the fine dining ware, as he uses his sleeve to push the shattered pieces from his skin. “Stop reaching for your gun!”

Tangerine swears again, slowly getting up off the ground. His shirt was rather torn up from your assault, but your dress wasn’t looking any better. Had the two of you not been currently trying to kill each other, the man might’ve offered to take you home. “Just give me the damn USB, we’re the ones who actually worked for it.”

You laugh at him, your red lips curling in a snarl. “Only because I cleared the office for you, don’t you think the place was rather empty all things considered?”

Lemon was actually the one who noticed the place had a lack of security, but the two didn’t want to push their luck. The intel was easy to grab, who would complain?

You nodded at him, watching the realisation hit him. “Yeah, dumbass - I did that. You didn’t check the closet did you? Whole bunch of dead guys, thanks to me.”

He scoffs, propping his hands onto his hips. “Bullshit, why didn’t you just grab the shit and go then?”

“I was busy setting up my backup plan, I didn’t know the job was handed off to others.” You raised your hands in frustration. It wasn’t uncommon for gigs to be palmed off to others, but that was usually involving a human target, not intel. 

“Yeah well, seems we both got fucked love,” He says, wincing at the pain in his side. “You’ve got a mean kick to you, you know that?”

“No one usually lives long enough to say anything.” A long silence ensues and you eye the man in front of you wearily, praying to whoever that his brother doesn’t wake up anytime soon. He gestures to your chest, your eyebrow raised at the action.

“One more chance, just hand it over and you can leave.”

You shake your head. “No can do.”

Just like before, he launches. His movements were well calculated, you’ll give him that - but your smaller size compared to his larger one was a good advantage. The two of you fought for a little longer, both refusing to back down. He got in a few good hits, but you had managed some that would leave more marks. Having had enough of you punching his kidneys over and over, Tangerine wounds his arms around your waist, throwing you onto the counter. 

Your thighs wrap around him as you slide to the side, bringing his head down to smack his forehead against the steel surface. He looses his balance, and you turn around onto your belly in an attempt to slide to the other side. Tangerine grabs at your leg however, sliding you back towards him.

Your nails try to grip onto the slick surface, hoping to grab something but you’re already being turned onto your back - his large hands holding down your wrists, his lower half keeping you pinned. 

His skin was flushed red with small cuts here and there, but you were sure you weren’t exactly far off. He stares down at you with a bewildered expression. “Did you,” He huffs out, grimacing as his muscles tense at the pain bursting through his body. “Did you plant fuckin’ bombs everywhere?”

“Guilty.” You replied, your breath coming out laboured in an attempt to catch it. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both in an attempt to get in a full breath of air. Tangerine stares down at your cleavage, your breasts rising and falling quickly as you wince in pain. The hard drive was quite literally in arms reach, but he knew better than to let go and give you a free hand. 

“How we doing this darling?” He says, chuckling as he nods towards your chest. “Am I reaching in there or are you?”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You reply, feeling him push against you a little harder. “Is that- Are you? I really hope that’s another gun in your pants.”

“It’s not,” Tangerine looks down towards his pants before back to you, shrugging. “You’re not the only one who loves being thrown around.”

“You got me the-“

“Angel? Angel can you hear me?” A voice fills your right ear, a beeping following suit. You gasp, ignoring Tangerines expression as you hear your handlers voice for the first time in hours. The connection in this place was the worst, and you had gone in on the job completely blind. You would have forgotten about your earpiece had he not said anything. 

“Xan!” You speak aloud, the man currently pinning you to a counter looking around for another person. “It’s my handler, sh.”

“Oh I’m sorry darlin’, is this a bad time right now?” He rolls his eyes at you, almost in shock at the woman below him. Is she really on call right now?

“I’ll explain later, but you got about ten ravens, coming your way,” Xan was worried, that much you could tell. “You’ve got less than a minute.”

That wasn’t nearly enough time to get Tangerine off of you and out the exit. The Englishman stares, watching your expression go from shocked, to your eyebrows furrowing. You look around for anything and then tilt your head back, staring down at the door where the bad guys will soon be entering. 

Fair enough, you begin to hear heavy footsteps coming your way, and Tangerine looks up at the other doors, having heard them too. His weight feels a little less heavy against your thighs, but his hands still grip at your wrists.

There just wasn’t any time. 

“You’re not married are you?” You ask, using the distraction to slide your thighs beside his waist, sliding your calves up behind his lower back and locking your heels behind him.

He mumbles a little huh before shaking his head. Great.

With your legs locked behind him, you pull him down on top of you, bringing his lips to yours. His mouth was searing hot, and his eyes were wide at first in shock before he melted into the kiss. Tangerine’s hands leave your wrists, one hand gripping at your waist as the other holds himself up. The kiss was heavy and hungry, and your now free hand fisted at his ripped shirt in an attempt to draw him closer.

The hairs above his lip tickle at you, an almost funny feeling. To stop yourself from commenting on his facial hair, you bite at his lip. He groans against your skin, and his tongue was just about to sneak past your lips when the doors barge open, causing the gun for hire to seperate from you. 

You whine at the loss of his touch, half of you playing the part, the other genuinely missing the feeling. Hiding yourself in his shoulder, Tangerine brings one hand behind your upper back, shielding you from the men who had just entered the room.

“Can we fuckin’ help you?” He yells at them, glaring at their amused expressions. You both sent silent prayers they didn’t enter the room any further, their guns would no doubt be out and proud if they spotted Lemon on the floor behind you. “Can’t a man get some privacy?”

One of your hands laid against his pec as you titled your head towards him, feigning embarrassment. “Baby,” You kissed at his neck before bringing your head near his ear. “Can we go somewhere more private? I don’t like an audience.”

Tangerine swallows the urge to groan. “Seriously gentlemen, you’re scaring my lady here.”

The men say something, but you don’t speak French, and clearly neither does Tangerine - but what he said works, and they slowly but surely leave after scanning the kitchen, seeing it was relatively empty apart from you two horn dogs. 

Once the doors close behind them, you both visibly relax, Tangerine’s shoulders dropping as he releases a breath he was holding. You’re sitting up, your legs still wrapped around him with your chest pressed against his. “How did you know that would work?” He asks, amazed and feeling rather warm at your quick thinking.

“Public displays of affection, they always make people uncomfortable.” Tangerine scoffs at this, his hands resting on your waist. 

“Affection? You were grindin’ into me like your life depended on it.” 

You gasp at him. “I think you were the one humping me like a dog, and don’t get me started on that caterpillar above your lip tickling me!”

He chuckles loudly at you. “Ladies love the ‘caterpillar’ darling, never had any complaints.” 

Someone groans from behind the two of you, and your attention turns to the twin on the floor. Lemon was slowly waking up, and Tangerine immediately lets you go, rushing to be beside his brother as he comes to. 

You felt almost guilty, having been the one to knock him out and punch him - albeit accidentally. Tangerine leans down, clicking his fingers in his brothers face. 

“Angel, you have a clear exit straight ahead,” Xan speaks through the earpiece yet again, confused by your location having not moved. “What… What are you doing with a frying pan?”

Again, you almost felt guilty, but you couldn’t afford to have the two of them come after you.

“I’m really sorry for this,” You say, and as Tangerine turns to look at you, you’ve already swung, letting the metal connect with his head. “Seriously, really sorry.” You were hoping not to use as much force as before, wanting to slow him down rather than knock him out cold.

He falls over, landing on top of his brother. Loud groans leave the two of them, Lemon feeling the weight of his brother and Tangerine now kissing the floor. Yeah, it was too hard.

You climb over the two of them, leaning down to pull Tangerine off of the other man and laying him upright. His eyes roll into the back of his head as pain vibrates in his skull, and he doesn’t notice as you reach for his phone in his other pocket. 

“W-What,” he mumbles, his vision blurry. “What are you doin’?” 

“Giving you my number,” You tell him nonchalantly. “Give me a call when you’re no longer pissed off yeah?” 

He wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly, and by the time his eyes have focused - you’re gone, and he was ready to fall asleep - and he did. 

He wasn’t sure how long he had been knocked out for, but it was definitely less than Lemon. Your heels were left behind and his phone was left beside him, the device pinging with a text from an unknown number with an angel emoji. 

Tangerine sits upright with a wince, noticing Lemon holding a bag of frozen pees against his head.  His brother throws a spare bag of frozen carrots at him, and he catches it, copying his actions “You want to tell me what the fuck happened in 'ere?”

The man on the floor sighs, knowing you had run off with the hard drive. “She got away with the intel.”

“No shit,” Lemon pushes the pees closer to the bump on his head. “I’m just surprised she kept us alive.”

This intrigued him. He knew of you? “You know Angel?”

“You don’t read anything I give you do you?” He mutters something along the lines of idiot and typical Diesel. “She was in the files I gave you last week, she’s good, real good.” 

“She kissed me.” Tangerine replies, ignoring the digs made at his lack of awareness. 

“And?” He retorts, not following along. Lemon had read your file in great detail. You were skilled and a quick thinker, so it didn’t shock him that you had the upper hand on his brother.

“And I think I’m in love.” Tangerine stares down at his phone, the angel emoji staring back at him.

“Oh fuck off you are.” 

[22hounds]

tickets for ; bangtan reactions

now playing ; you initiating your first kiss together

cast list : kim namjoon, kim seokjin, min yoongi, jung hoseok

kim namjoon 

- he did not see it coming

- he took you on a movie date, you held hands, shared drinks, and yet this man did not see this coming

- he’s floored. absolutely floored. eyes glancing everywhere, cheeks flushing, stuttering kind of floored

- meanwhile you’re just standin there like 🧍

- internally you’re panicking

- what if you read the situation wrong WHAT THEN HE’S GOING TO HATE YOU FOREVER AND YOU’RE GONNA LET THIS GREEK GOD OF A MAN SLIP BY YOUR CLAWS

- i can promise you the man is contemplating getting on one knee and proclaiming his undying love for you you’re fine

- your little internal battle is interrupted with a heavy hand clapping onto your back

- you had to wait twenty minutes for him to finally get his shit together and tell you he doesn’t despise you and doesn’t want to murder you

- you look up and see that he has the biggest smile on his face 

- you can’t help but give him another kiss

- his grin, his dimples, and his arm around your waist

- you smile because you think that’s the only sight you’ll like to see that sight for a lot longer

kim seokjin

- HELLO?? EXCUSE ME??

- HE was supposed to fluster you, not the other way around

- the disrespect. the audacity.

- claps a hand over his mouth and clutches his heart

- “___...how could you do this to a pure, unsuspecting maiden like me 😔”

- you want to strangle him and kiss him again at the same time

- he would rather fling himself off a cliff than admit it but he’s blushing juuuuust a little

- just very little. infinitesimal. a tiny bit.

- he’s definitely not sweating either. no. not nervous at the least.

- tries his best to make fun of the situation but you being your smart amazing muscular all knowing self you see through it

- but because you’re a little shit like him you decide to tease him even more

- wrap your arms around his neck, kissing his jaw, ruffling his hair and all that

- he’s literally beet red but he’s still in denial that he was the one being teased for once

- eventually you let go of him and for revenge he pulls you in to another kiss

- you don’t really mind, no

min yoongi

- malfunctions a little

- by malfunctioning i mean he freezes and drops his waving hand down

- he’s trying to process the fact that you jumped into his arms and gave him a smooch give him an hour or two he’ll get over the shock 

- during your date he kept inching his hand and shortening the distance between your fingers and his

- like a FOOL

- he’s 80% sure that you’re going to think he’s weird after this and he’s ready to go home and contemplate his life

- and you KISS HIM

- i’m not saying you shouldn’t have but you’ve gotten your hands on every thought of his and now all he can think about is you

- he doesn’t let you see that he’s practically having an existential crisis outside your door

- he acts cool, pats your head, bid you goodnight, and invited you to another date

- on his way back home his knuckles are white on the steering wheel and his face is bright red

- once he opens his door he blacks the fuck out

- slams his body on his bed and relives the moment you kissed him again and again

- he touches his lips and smile

- maybe he should buy you tangerine flavoured chapstick next time you go on a date

jung hoseok

- dissolves into a giggly mess

- he wraps his arms around you and groan like he’s accepting a horrible fate

- “___...you’re stuck with me now.”

- you raise your head up with a questioning look and he laughs 

- pecks you on the cheek for good measure

- his eyes narrow playfully and he swats your arm lightly

- “seems like you like me a whole lot, don’t you?”

- he takes this as a golden opportunity to fuck with you to his heart’s content

- you blush furiously despite your bold actions and he smiles fondly

- in the end he relents and squeezes your cheek

- he’s not kidding when he says you’re stuck with him he’s now superglued to you

- he flirts with you for a good half an hour while giving you kisses here and there

- you’ve been on like a dozen dates and yet you’ve never kissed

- he wouldn’t tell you ever but he’s scared that he’ll do the wrong thing and drive you away

- but now that you’ve taken the initiative he officially gives no shits and gives you as much affection as he wants

- you like it. actually, scratch that. you like him a lot, along with every kiss he gives you.

( writing this while it’s white day really gets me in the vibe 😳)

[swinterr]

fic rec vi ♡

hi!

this is a another new set of fic rec and i’ll probably do a compilation of genre (?) just like the first ones.

made some changes like tidying up a bit and adding summary, for those that doesn’t have any summary i’ll try my best to add my own summary (it will probably be shit tho, i ain’t making a smut summary guys, i’m not confident in my describing a fic ability but i’ll try my best. if its in italic it means i made the summary hehez )  if the summary is shit, i made it okay.

read and support the fic and authors here: the fic rec ♡

a for angst

f for fluff

s for smut

// for series or list

nct 

jeno

no title by @tyongf-nct | s

- smut blurb.

body guards and boyfriend by @pastelsicheng | f

-  sometimes the only way you can really get some alone time with your boyfriend is by making his job hard.

lipstick smears by @kopikokun | f

-  jeno never thought trying to get his makeup artist’s attention would be this hard.

jaehyun

[10:30] by @moonttaeil | 

- a lockdown moment.

[2:40] by @nct-jungjaehyun | f a

- cute quality fluff time with bf!jae with a dash of angst.

[11:41] by @jeongvision | f 

- family time with apples.

just like magic by @starryhyuck | f s

-  jung jaehyun’s body count is almost as high as yours. however, after yuta spreads a nasty rumor, you learn that jaehyun’s always imagined those girls to be you instead.

love to hate me by @moonctzeny | s a 

-  you and jaehyun meet as sm trainees, developing a friendship until he debuts and you decided to leave the company and pursue a solo career. when you reunite again in a music show and he acts like he barely knows you, you stubbornly begin a series of hate-brimmed sex rendez-vous. your touch-and-go relationship continues on, until a song collaboration will force you both to deal with all your repressed feelings for each other.

moving on by @ddeonghwaa | f a

- reader has been chasing jae for some time but when she moved on jae suddenly enter the picture.

sun&moon by @ppangjae | f a

-  asking jeong jaehyun to accompany you to your family’s 1-week christmas vacation as your boyfriend has its consequences. one can surely get through 1 week of pretending to be in love with an enemy, right?

snack run with a snack by @kopikokun | f 

-  on your usual movie night with the members, they assign you sudden snack collecting duty. you’re a little peeved, but at least jaehyun offers to tag along. Unfortunately for you, things really aren’t going in your favour tonight.

lover boy by @neoct-zen | f s

- bunch fics of lover boy jae and reader.

jungwoo

one more time, please by @haequarius | f s

-  you don’t know what you and Jungwoo are, but you are certainly weak for him.

jealous by @whiplashsan | s 

-  jungwoo is all smiles and sunshine until he gets jealous, and he just so happens to get jealous over the smallest things when it comes to you.

doyoung

sugar, spice and everything not nice by @alreadyblondenow | s

-  doyoung getting your ring size wrong, unprotected sex, kitchen sex, slight fingering, wedding tragedies.

no title by @ncteaxhoe | s

- dom!doyoung, rough? i need holy water.

the little one by @ethaeriyeol | f 

-  a gift of life; female reader x husband!Doyoung; fluff, light angst, married au

lucas

exquisite taste by @weishenkonbini | s f

- smut but with a fluffy ending.

for you always by @labyrinthsofyou | f

-  in which you surprise yukhei when he forgets about your date.

6:19 by @cozykpopblurbs | f

- a cute fluff ft kun and winwin.

10:18 pm by @nctsoftarchives | f

- reader supports lucas at his superm debut stage. 

16:47 by @sichengssmile | f s 

- a fluffy smut. lucas a big boi.

missed you by @tokyobts | a f

-  after you and yukhei broke up, yukhei still has feelings for you. he reaches out to you at school and tries to get you back. at first you avoid him but later his actions manage to make your heart flutter. you’ve come to a sudden conclusion that you maybe still want him in your life.

johnny

34 + 35 by @domjaehyun | s 

- you and your husband johnny decide to take your marriage to the next step.

i couldn’t wait a little longer by @alreadyblondenow | s f a

-  you two were never together longer than two days, but the feelings, oh the feelings that you have for each other is clear as the day. it was a never-ending try of making the relationship official. johnny tried, you tried but it never happens.

what happens in korea, not stays in korea by @alreadyblondenow | f s 

-  a week vacation in korea for your sister’s wedding became even more exciting when a famous dj had a crush on you. johnny was sure that it’s love at first sight. not putting both of your careers on the line, you two had no regrets when the time comes and you finally leave.

laundry day by @immabiteyou | s

- a domestic fluffy smut.

make a wish by @sluttyten | s f a

-  you’re jungwoo’s sister, and he’s made it clear he wants you and Johnny to have nothing to do with each other. so you and johnny start fake dating to piss him off.

want it all by @sluttyten | f s 

-  you are entirely innocent to the point of being naive. johnny is not innocent, but he loves that you are because it means he can teach you everything you don’t know.

sungchan

wish i was her by @softsungchan | f a 

-  you wished you were her, laying in Sungchan’s arms and feeling his warm breath on your neck, giggling about sweet nothings whispered into the starry night. You wished for it to be you, the girl he liked.

2:21 am by @the32ndbeat | f 

- sungchan being whipped, thru a text message.

haechan

14:52 by @ukiyoexo | f

- a cute haechan and reader ft the reader’s baby sister moment.

prince’s order by @nsheetee | f

-  prince haechan nurses you after you faint, and orders you to stay with him until you feel better.

sweet treat by @markresonates | s

-  haechan takes you for ice cream but all you can think about is sex with him.  when you act like a brat, eventually you end up in the bathroom. with no panties. 

clingy by @love-mi | f 

-  I’m not clingy! I just love your company and constantly want to be around you and have your full attention at all times

mark

hyuck is always right by @luvrenjun00 | f 

- ceo!mark x reader ft baby donghyuck. a tooth-rotting fluff.

taeyong

snow storm by @whereisten | f s 

- a fluffy smut whilst a snow storm.

1:59 by @smoll-tangerine | f

- reader and taeyong ft my favorite game (where i always die first) among us!

bts

taehyung

is this allowed 1 2 by @seokiie  | f s

- how were you supposed to know bts would be filming at your coffee shop today? how were you supposed to know a certain curly-haired boy would take a liking  to you?

cabin pressure | f by @jiminrings | f 

-  pilot!y/n who accidentally became famous bc of a viral post about her, best friend!jimin!, taehyung having a shy lil crush on you aND ot7 being meanies for a tad bit :((

art major!tae and biochem major!yn | f by @jiminrings | f

-  tae’s cold and probably needs a friend more than he needs a model, y/n feels this nEED to take care of him, a term of enderment then a dash of emotional constipation and a sprinkle of jealousy :D

gank mid lane by @kimtaehyunq | f s 

- gank / verb: (in a video game) use underhand means to defeat or kill (a less experienced opponent)

birthday surprise by @ephemeralkookie |

-  like every year, you prepare a little surprise for your boyfriend’s birthday, one that you’ve been preparing for days. and after a very tiring day, taehyung only wants to spend the night in your loving arms.

jungkook

cookies & cream | s by @1kook | f s 

-  jungkook will watch a thousand cheesy christmas movies if it meant making you happy. (and maybe having his dick sucked.)

unholy night | s by @ephemeralkookie | f s

-  after a christmas day passed with the Jeon’s family, Jungkook decides to transform the holy night into an unholy one.

‘a short’ abstinence | s a by @seokiie | s a

-  maybe blue-balling you boyfriend (who has an insanely high sexual drive) wasn’t the best.

in which she’s done with him by @minstrivia | a

-  jungkook angst/fluff where he always pushes oc away (who confesses her feelings but was cruelly rejected) and insults her but she always comes back to take care of him when he’s drunk or picks him up from his one night stands and she finally decides to leave him alone.

bad influence by @noteguk | s 

-  in which you know jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.

jock!jk and shy art major!yn by @jiminrings | f

-  established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

special affair by @1oserjk | f

-  sugar daddy au except it’s just jk spoiling u thru animal crossing

fairy of shampoo by @ironicarmy | f s

-  sundays are for relaxation, house cleaning, and happiness.

abstract ft bob ross by @mimithings97 | f

-  paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what jeongguk wants. and what jeongguk wants, jeongguk gets.

badboy!jungkook by @jungshookz | f 

- badboy!jungkook falls for good girl reader ft the boys and the reader’s apple. 

growing by @lesgetittkookie | f

- dad!jungkook teacher his daughter how to walk. super super cute family/domestic fluff.

quiet, baby by @bratkook | s 

- i don’t how to write a summary on smuts so imma just put this. reader and jungkook doing something in the subway.

still want that by @whatifyoulivelikethat | s

-  fucking min yoongi ex-girlfriend? a terrible idea. being hopelessly in love with her at the same time? an even worse idea. knowing he was being used and still doing it anyway? ah, Jeon Jungkook, what are you doing? part 2 of savage love.

desiderium by @jeonggukingdom | f s 

-  “we’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still so horny?”. a newlyweds!au smut.

chapstick by @softyoongiionly | f s

- based on the time Jungkook said he needed someone to scold him so he’d remember to put lip balm on. or jungkook’s had a really long day and the only that can make it better, is seeing you. 

lover boy by @jingukk | f 

-  jungkook likes you. a lot.

unexpected confession by @sunkissedjk | f

-  you gathered up the courage to confess your feelings, but it seems everyone in school knows about it before you could even find him.

string attached by @ephemeralkookie | s

-  jungkook is what we can call your sexfriend. No strings attached, just you and him having fun and releasing the huge pressure and stress of being idols. But after spending an entire day together, you realize that maybe he’s not just your sexfriend.

no title by @himbojk | f s 

- dilf jk.

astro

eunwoo

ceo!eunwoo by @m0onbean

no title by @yutopiada | f

- a cute idol!reader and eunwoo moment at a music show.

disney by @bangchan-sonyeondan | f

- a cute date with eunwoo at disney. reader likes vintage things hence using a disposable camera.

baby, it’s cold outside by @fresh-outta-jams | f 

- a cute cold christmas fluff with eunwoo ft. the boys. reader went to the boys’ place for a sweater and cocoa gift exchange.

got7

yugyeom

cruel brothers by @imsarabum | f

-  jackson and jaebum have always acted as if they were your big, overprotective brothers. so when they both walk in on you and yugyeom in a very intimate position, things get a little tense!

txt

soobin

a special night by @gyuluster | f

-  an intimate insight on the first night of choi soobin’s wedding, consisting of kitchen floors, witches and an eternity of love.

boughs & branches by @jeogiyall | f 

-  decorating the tree with boyfriend! choi soobin from txt! fluffity fluff fluff with a lot of cute fluff thrown in and a dash of christmastime fluff. 

sleepy binnie by @immabiteyou | s

-  “i’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now. “ a sleepy soobin smut.

cake by @immabiteyou | s

- reading waiting for mc soobin with the guys. a cute fluffy smut moment.

kpop oc/s

seri by @ggukkiedae

anyway, thank you again for the writers please take care and be safe!

please free to recommend your favorite fic that i haven’t feature yet.

if the links won’t work and i labelled some fics wrong please let me know and i’ll try to fix it as soon as possible!

support the fic and the writers!

[evafrechette]

With A Little Help From My Hyung

↠ yoongi x seokjin | smut | friends to lovers, slow burn | 18+ | 2.4k

↠ Summary: Seokjin is the best roommate Yoongi could have asked for, he’s funny, respectful, a good cook and incredibly handsome. That’s a big problem though - because Yoongi has a constant boner over him.

↠ Warnings: eventual smut, drama queen yoongi, oblivious seokjin, blowjobs, standing sex, yoongi enjoys seokjin carrying him around, anal sex, yoongi is clumsy and hurts himself, which is a great excuse to have seokjin look after him, the other members make a small appearance, my fic usually has a few swear words, hyung kink???

"Hyung, stop it. Leave me alone." Yoongi's deep voice grumbled defiantly.

"Aish, quit being a baby Yoongi-yah, let me help." Seokjin held his hand out to the smaller man who sat on the cold concrete ground below him, food scattered around his aching body, tangerines rolling down the sidewalk.

Yoongi slapped away Seokjin's hand, scowling at his annoying roommate. He got onto his knees and attempted to stand, wincing in pain the moment he put pressure onto his left foot. Only moments before he and Seokjin had left the convenience store, arms full of energy drinks, jelly candy, ramen and tangerines. But Yoongi being Yoongi was busy in his own world and didn't notice the patch of ice on the footpath right in front of him, once his foot touched the slippery ice he slipped and wobbled about, struggling to balance before his legs came out from under him, falling directly onto his ass. Paper bag flying out of his grip, contents spilling onto the sidewalk.

He tried to stand again, taking his time as he clung onto Seokjin's arm, managing to get himself upright, left foot hovering above the ground, but when he placed it firmly against the sidewalk pain shot up his leg and he suddenly felt faint. "Shit, I think it's broken Hyung." He looked up into Seokjin's eyes, refusing to let the tears spill. Yoongi was in pain, a lot of fucking pain but he couldn't let his hyung see him be a cry baby.

"You hit the ground hard but it's probably just a sprain or something, I doubt it's broken. You're a real drama queen Min Yoongi. Can you stand by yourself for a bit?" Yoongi nodded in reply and let go of the elders arm, watching as he carefully rushed around picking up the spilled food and shoved it into his own bag. Seokjin walked back to Yoongi, spinning around so his back faced the man. He crouched down, holding the overfilled paper bag tight against his chest. "Jump on Yoongi-ah, and don't even try it with me. I'm your Hyung you have to listen to me."

Yoongi rolled his eyes but slowly hobbled over to his taller roommate, awkwardly jumping onto his back, arms wrapping around Seokjin's neck, and his short legs around his waist when the older man stood. "I don't have to listen to shit." He mumbled into Seokjin's messy brown hair. Seokjin let out his trademark high pitched laugh as he carried his injured roommate back towards their apartment, "You're so full of it Yoongi."

The walk would usually only take five minutes, but carrying a grown man (who enjoyed complaining every few minutes) had a part in the trip taking close to twenty. Yoongi laid his head on Seokjin's wide shoulders and enjoyed the way his oversized blue shirt smelled of a calming mix of lavender and vanilla bean, he took a mental note to check what brand of washing powder the man used when he got home.

Something about being carried on Seokjin's back made Yoongi's belly flip, he had never felt so small and vulnerable in his life. He was the strong one of their group - the pit bull, small but tough, with an acid tongue that could make a grown man cry. But being carried around by his cute, tall, goofy roommate was actually kind of comforting, it felt nice to snuggle against his broad shoulders.

Yoongi could feel his cheeks heating up, he had been crushing on his video game loving roommate for a few months now. At first the blond thought they were just compatible roommates, respecting each others boundaries and privacy, they quickly became friends bonding over their love of cooking, but along the way Yoongi developed feelings. His eyes lingering on Seokjin longer than what was socially acceptable, sneakily scooching closer to his side on the couch while he watched Seokjin get annihilated playing video games and "accidentally" falling asleep during their movie marathon nights, head resting comfortably against Seokjin's shoulder. But Yoongi knew nothing would come of his little crush so he kept his feelings locked away and instead tried to focus on their good friendship instead.

Seokjin carefully placed Yoongi on the couch, pushing a cushion under his now swollen foot. He rushed off to Yoongi's room and returned with a blanket which he draped over the smaller man. With a happy hum he walked towards the kitchen and Yoongi watched with lovesick eyes as he put away their food shopping. Everytime Seokjin reached up for the top shelf his shirt would raise a little, giving Yoongi a glimpse of the tantalising caramel skin underneath. Yoongi longed to drag his calloused fingertips along that skin, to leave small kisses down Seokjin's spine, along his lower back and down over his firm ass. He sought to taste Seokjin, to feel his cock heavy on his tongue, to feel the burn of his cock stretching him out.

"Hey Yoongi are you okay?" A cool hand placed against his forehead brought Yoongi out of his Seokjin induced daze. His roommate was looking at him with fondness and concern, "Your cheeks are really red but you're not hot or anything. I thought maybe you were coming down with a fever." Yoongi knew he was even redder now, but he allowed himself to relax against the man's hand. He sighed when Seokjin withdrew his hand and moved to sit on the bean bag on the floor. "Yeah, no I'm fine. Just a bit embarrassed about this." Yoongi waved his hand over his ankle.

"Aish, these things happen. Just have to be more careful. And Hyung is here to take care of you okay? Anything you need you let me know. Keep that boney ass of yours on the couch."

The pair spent the rest of the night watching a marathon of Law of the Jungle, empty containers of ramen and Kloud draft beer scattered across the coffee table. Yoongi as usual was unable to keep the snarky comments to himself, "Pfft look at them! Useless. I could survive on that island so much better than any of them." He quipped as a team of celebrities dived into the ocean to try to catch fish with just their hands.

"Errrr Yoongi-yah, did you forget that I had to carry your tiny ass home this evening? Your weak ankles wouldn't last a day on that show." Seokjin doubled over in laughter, clapping his hands loudly as Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Whatever Jin-hyung," he scoffed, "Like you'd do any better."

"Pretty sure I'd do great on a show like this! You've seen me fishing Yoongi, I'm practically a professional at it now."

Yoongi groaned at this, Seokjin had dragged him out fishing more times than he could even count and he was nowhere near a professional level. The last time they went fishing together Seokjin didn't catch a single fish. He did manage to catch some seaweed and disintegrating plastic bag though.

Yoongi could feel his eyelids getting heavy, and instead of fighting the feeling allowed himself to drift off to sleep, which wasn't hard as sleep was his favourite hobby after all. Yoongi was having a beautiful dream, he was being carried in Seokjin's strong arms as the brunette carried him along the golden hues of a sandy beach, gentle waves breaking along the shore splashing against Seokjin's bare feet. He mirrored Seokjin's smile as his Hyung looked down at him, carrying him bridal style while the breeze whispered sweetly around them both.

"Aish, Yoongi you are a pain in my ass, but you're kinda cute so it's okay I guess." His gummy smile widened at the sweet but slightly insulting words. "What are you smiling about you weirdo." Seokjin let out a small laugh.

Yoongi was confused, why was dream Seokjin insulting him? It took him a few seconds to realise that he was actually awake and that he was no longer asleep on the couch, but rather in the arms of his Hyung. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let his body go slack against Seokjin's chest, adding a few very realistic soft snores for good measure. Yoongi felt his body fall gently against the cold mattress on his bed, shivering slightly at the loss of heat from Seokjin's warm body. A blanket was dragged up his body, before footsteps retreated out of the room and the door clicking shut quietly.

Yoongi's eyes widened once he was alone in the dark room, had he heard correct? Did Seokjin just call him cute? It took all his self control not to squeal like a teenage girl. He wiggled down the mattress, throwing the blankets over his head and snuggled into his soft pillows. That night Yoongi had the best sleep of his life, with a smile on his face and a hard cock in his pants.

-----

The following weekend Yoongi found himself squished between his friends Jungkook and Hoseok in the back seat of Jimin's tiny Hyundai Pony hatchback. Usher's 'U Remind Me' thumped out of the piss-poor and incredibly outdated sound system, tinny and grating on his ears. His friends, including Taehyung who was sitting in the passenger seat, were singing along at the top of their lungs, he threw his head back and groaned. Why did he get stuck with the loud idiots of their group? Yoongi peered through the windscreen, tall, shapely pine trees lined the dirt road they traveled along. Dust swirled around the car, a curtain of brown blocking the view of the car travelling behind them. The sky was dotted with grey clouds, slowly drifting across the sky hiding the sun, who was trying it's hardest to make an appearance.

The car full of friends pulled into a small gravel parking lot and climbed out of the stuffy vehicle. They watched as the trailing car pulled up beside them, excitedly chatting and joking around now that everyone had finally arrived. Today was Namjoon's choice of activity, one Yoongi was secretly dreading - Hiking. He cast a glance towards Seokjin who was dressed in a pair of black and white track suit pants, sneakers, wide brim bucket hat with drawcord and a fluffy cream jumper. He swallowed hard at the thought of wrapping his arms around Seokjin's waist and resting his head against his fleece covered chest. He looked so snuggly and warm and cute, yeah, really really cute.

Yoongi zoned out while the others planned their trek, his mind too focused on Seokjin's beautiful plush lips, enthralled by how his Hyung randomly pouted while he spoke, his plump bottom lip puffing out before returning back to normal. Yoongi found this habit of Seokjin's incredibly endearing and wondered if the man was even aware of what he was doing. Or at just how crazy it was making Yoongi feel.

"Is everyone okay with the plan?" Namjoon asked, slipping away a map into the front pocket of his jacket. The group all spoke at once, loud and chaotic as usual. "Okay well let's go!"

The group trekked for a few hours, enjoying the challenging course. Up and down steep inclines, weaving through lush forest and snaking between narrow boulders that sat unsteadily on either side of their path. They eventually came across a small stream that separated the gravel path, Yoongi looked down at his feet and whined. "Do we have to go through that? I'm wearing brand new shoes." His nose scrunched as he caught sight of the shallow murky water he knew he would have to trudge through.

"Why would you wear new shoes on a hike Yoongi?" Hoseok laughed, clapping the smaller man on the back. Yoongi glared at his friend, tempted to turn around and walk back to the car. Fuck nature.

"Don't worry about it Yoongi-yah, climb on." Seokjin smiled, bending down in front of Yoongi, memories of the previous weekend flooded Yoongi's thoughts. Without hesitation Yoongi climbed onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. He placed his chin into the crook of Seokjin's shoulder and sighed as herbal scented hair brushed across his nose.

"O-okay then, well errr let's get going then." Namjoon raised his eyebrow, the rest of the group watching quizzically as Seokjin happily carried Yoongi across the stream. They exchanged looks with each other, hushed whispers at what had just transpired, Yoongi knew the others would be talking, getting a piggy back ride was pretty out of character for him, but he was blissfully peaceful at that very moment. So fuck what anyone thought.

-----

Back at their apartment that night the pair settled into their usual routine of cheap ramen, beer and trashy kdramas on the television.

"Hey Hyung, thanks for picking me up today," Yoongi bit nervously into his thumbnail, a habit he struggled to free himself from, "You didn't need to . . Hobi was right though, those shoes cost $300 why did I choose to wear them today?" Yoongi knew exactly why - he was trying to look good for Seokjin. He had dashed out to a Camping and Fishing store after work to purchase an entirely new outfit for the day. He settled on a long sleeved yellow and green flannel shirt, khaki trousers and a blue and black fleece fila jacket. Plus those damn tramping boots that cost as much as his share of the rent.

Seokjin leaned in, inches away from Yoongi's face, breath catching in the back of his throat, heart hammering against his rib cage. "It was my pleasure," Seokjin grabbed Yoongi by the cheeks and pinched, jiggling the flushed skin between his thumb and index finger, "That's what a good Hyung does, helps their cry baby friends out." He laughed, letting go of Yoongi and plopping back down onto his side of the couch. Yoongi's hand shot up to his cheek, fingers brushing along his warm skin. Seokjin's touch felt amazing, electric sparks coursed through his body, Yoongi wanted those hands touching him in places that crossed the line from friends to lovers, those long fingers curling up inside of him brushing against his sweet sensitive spot, wrapped around his cock pumping him until it was too much to handle and he was screaming Seokjin's name while he spilled his release over his Hyungs hand.

Yoongi found it hard to concentrate on the television in front of him, eyes constantly drifting towards his roommate who looked amazing in a pair of grey shorts and loose white T-shirt, his feet curled up underneath him, strong thigh muscles catching Yoongi's attention. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his eyes, Yoongi wasn't sure how much more of Seokjin he could deal with. He was the perfect roommate, but his desire to be fucked by the man was becoming an every minute of the day kinda thing. Maybe Yoongi needed to hurry up and move out. He thought about Seokjin at work, while doing his laundry, on the bus to the grocery store, while putting the rubbish out, when pumping his dildo in and out of his ass, Seokjin was on his mind 24/7.

Yoongi's cock twitched as he watched the couple on television, the male lead carrying the female through a cherry blossom lined park while a terrible ballad wailed in the background. He decided that being carried was his newest kink. Or maybe Seokjin's entire existence was his fetish? He tugged on his hoop earring as his thoughts travelled to a million different scenarios in which Seokjin would need to lift and carry him around. He recalled the previous weekend, waking up while Seokjin carried him to bed, how nice it felt to be held in Seokjin's arms, to hear him call Yoongi cute. He wanted, no he needed that again.

Yoongi glanced out of the corner of his eye, the brunette’s head was down as he browsed at something on his phone, he watered his lips and decided now was the perfect time to enact his master plan. Yoongi closed his eyes and let out a loud yawn, arms stretched high above his head, "Mmmm what's the time?" He asked Seokjin drowsily. "Huh? Oh it's  9:23, are you tired already?" The brunette placed his phone on the coffee table and shifted to face Yoongi. "You're not? We walked a million miles today, of course I'm tired." For theatrics he let out another yawn. Seokjin shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "Guess I've got a better stamina than you."

Over the next half an hour Yoongi let out more fake yawns, complaining about his sore muscles and tired bones - which Seokjin informed him wasn't a real thing and that he was being a whiny old man again. His body sunk into the couch, head lolling against the arm rest as he feigned falling asleep. It would only be a matter of time before he would be whisked away in Seokjin's arms and it was making him giddy, trying his hardest not to crack a smile. Yoongi heard the room fall silent, the television now switched off. His heart was racing, this was it - the big moment - his hands were softly shaking, breath uneven and shallow.

"Hey Yoongi, wake up." A large hand shook his arm attempting to wake him from his faux slumber. His eyebrows furrowed, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Seokjin was supposed to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, whisper a few sweet words in his ear and maybe jerk him off a bit. He opened his eyes and glared at the handsome man standing over him, his plans were ruined and he and his neglected cock were pretty pissed off.

"Why didn't you just carry me Hyung?" Yoongi sulked, crossing his arms against his chest like a defiant toddler.

"W-why would I? You can walk your legs aren't broken."

"Well you've been carrying me around a lot recently so I just thought you'd do it again tonight. Ahhh fuck it whatever." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the brunette who was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Aish, Yoongi-yah do you enjoy Seokjinnie lifting you up and carrying you around?" He could no longer hold it in, erupting into a fit of laughter.

Yoongi's cheeks burnt bright red, he was already a small man but he had never felt as small as he did right at this moment. Tears threatened to spill over his long lashes, he knew he was being a little dramatic but his heart was practically ripped out of his chest by his crush. Yoongi bowed his head refusing to look anywhere other than at his hands which were clasped together tightly.

"Wait, shit Yoongi I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you cry," Seokjin dropped down onto his knees and engulfed Yoongi's hands with his own. "So you do enjoy being carried by me?"

Yoongi sniffed, "Yeah. I like a lot about you Hyung, the carrying thing is one of my favourites though."

An awkward silence filled the room, Yoongi's sniffles the only sound to break the dead air. "Well uh, there is a lot I like about you too," he stroked his thumb against the back of Yoongi's hand softly and slowly. "I like your dry sense of humor, the way you screech when you're excited - that is so adorable. I like how passionate you are about music and I really like how your cheeks turn red whenever we touch each other by accident. I sorta brush up against you on purpose just to see it."

A gasp escaped Yoongi's lips, head snapping up to look into the dark chocolate eyes of his roommate. Seokjin's cheeks puffed wide as he gave Yoongi a sweet smile, his thumb continuing to draw circles over Yoongi's hands which were resting in his lap. "I think you're cute Yoongi-yah, and I'd love to kiss you. If you'd allow me to of course."

Yoongi's eyes darted to Seokjin's plump lips, inviting and glistening. He couldn't hold back any longer, throwing himself forward as he smashed their lips together, hungry and desperate. In the wild rush of lips and tongues exploring new territory their noses bumped together, deep chuckles slipping out between kisses. Yoongi's hands frantically grasped onto Seokjin's hair, pulling him down so their body's were close but it still wasn't enough, he needed to feel naked flesh against his own. Yoongi's long fingers travelled underneath Seokjin's thin cotton T-shirt and brushed against his soft stomach, over his nipples rubbing the hard nubs between his fingers and then back down his chest. He played with the elastic waist of Seokjin's shorts, dipping his hand inside, fingers grazing the wiry mound of pubic hair just above where his hands really wanted to touch, "I-is this okay Hyungie?" Yoongi whimpered, Seokjin's tongue running along the exposed skin of his neck, teeth nipping the soft skin.

"Mmmm yeah, touch Hyung Yoongi." Seokjin bit down gently his teeth scraping the skin. He attached his lips against the smaller man's neck, alternating between sucking on the warm flesh and sly little nibbles, creating deep purple bruises that contrasted beautifully against Yoongi's pale skin. While Seokjin was busy marking his neck, Yoongi pulled his cock out of the shorts and stroked sensually up and down his length, which was growing harder and stiffer in his hand. His hand glided over Seokjin's length at a quickening pace, flicking his wrists and gripping tight around the head before pulling off and pumping again. Yoongi added another hand on Seokjin's shaft and slowly twisted in opposite directions, up then down, left then right.  His fingers played with the tip of his cock, pressing his thumb into the slit, stroking playfully over the head.

"Fuck your cock feels amazing Hyung," Yoongi sighed, Seokjin's cock pulsing in his grip, "C-can we fuck?"

Seokjin removed his swollen lips from Yoongi's neck with a 'pop' and took his time licking along the already fucked out man's lips, pressing their soft flesh against each other, gentle kisses that were in in opposition of the acceleration of Yoongi's heart beat. Seokjin sat between Yoongi's legs on the floor, hands roaming over the blonds thighs. When he reached Yoongi's crotch his fingers ghosted over Yoongi's hard cock visible through his sweats, he bucked his hips desperate for Seokjin's touch.

"Hyung's got you Yoongi, just sit back and relax hmmm?" He placed a sloppy wet kiss against the fleece material and helped pull them down to Yoongi's ankles. "Such a pretty cock Yoongi-yah." Seokjin's voice was smooth and sweet. His fingers grazed against Yoongi's balls, eyes flicking back up to watch Yoongi's reaction. He continued to massage his sack, pulling lightly and wiggling the weight in his hand. He rubbed his cheek along the soft skin of Yoongi's balls and then up and down his incredibly hard shaft. Tongue flicking out to leave small licks along the side, down to his balls and then further below to the sweet spot between Yoongi's balls and warm inviting hole.

Yoongi's slit was leaking precum so Seokjin lapped it up, moaning sinfully. A groaned escaped the back of Yoongi's throat when Seokjin took his balls into his mouth, sucking and kissing all over. He took his time enjoying their heat in his mouth. He stroked the blonds length while sucking the pale skin of Yoongi's inner thighs. Seokjin sat back and removed he and Yoongi's bottoms completely, throwing the pants into a small pile in the corner of the room. He stood and motioned for Yoongi to stand with him. Their lips crashed against another's once more, Yoongi standing on his tippy toes to match his Hyungs height. A knee slipped between Yoongi's thighs as the two men continued to taste and explore each others mouths.

"Shit, we need lube, uhhh, don't move Yoongi-yah! I'll be back quickly." Seokjin ran towards his bedroom leaving Yoongi standing naked from the waist down in their living room, cock red and hot. He gripped onto the base and squeezed tight, moaning at his own touch. Seokjin returned cock glistening from the lube, bouncing with every step. Yoongi gulped, Seokjin was longer than any cock his ass had taken before but god was he eager to have it inside him.

They kissed passionately while Seokjin fingered Yoongi's hole, stretching him open enough for his cock. Yoongi's mind had turned to mush, absolutely lost in the moment. It was as though Seokjin had flicked a switch in his ass to become a whimpering, whining mess. Seokjin bent his knees and using his right hand guided his cock into Yoongi's tight hole. Once inside he allowed Yoongi to get used to his size while his hands reached out to wrap around Yoongi's small waist. Without warning he lifted Yoongi, a squeak echoing in the silent room. "You are adorable Yoongi-yah, can't wait to hear more noises come from those pretty lips." Yoongi's legs wrapped around Seokjin's waist which readjusted their position, cock now deeper than before, big hands reached down to Yoongi's ass holding him in place as they walked out of the living room and into the hallway.

Yoongi held on tight, gripping onto strong shoulders as he was pushed against the wall with a thud. Seokjin's arms trembled from Yoongi’s weight so he started to pound into his ass before it was too much and he would have to let him go. Yoongi let out tiny pants and whimpers, eyelids half closed, mouth so slack drool was starting to drip from the corners. Seokjin's cock grazed over his prostate, hitting deep and hard with every thrust. "Hyung, hy-hyung ahh ah so good." His hands roamed over Seokjin's back leaving red and pink marks underneath the thin material of his shirt. His cock was trapped between their bodies, friction from their movements driving him insane.

Sweat dripped down Seokjin's face, his arms close to giving out. This was more intense than any workout his personal trainer at the gym had given him. He slammed his cock into Yoongi repeatedly eager to cum inside his ass. Yoongi's whimpers in his ear pushed Seokjin to his peak and exploded his white hot cum into Yoongi's warm hole.

They stood still while Seokjin caught his breath, Yoongi hanging onto his neck for dear life, almost as though the floor was lava. "Hyungie make me come, pleaseeeee I'm so close." Yoongi whined, nipping at Seokjin's lips then pouting against the plush flesh. He would rather be dead than admit it, but Seokjin was right - he was a bit of a drama queen. "I'll have to put you down though, I think my arms are about to fall off." Seokjin chuckled as Yoongi detached his legs from around the brunette's waist and placed them on the floor.

Seokjin reached down and gripped tight onto Yoongi's aching cock, moving his hand in a steady rhythm. Their foreheads touched, breathing in each others air, hushed pants and whimpers shared between the pair as they kiss messily, lips grazing chins and teeth clinking. Yoongi bucked into Seokjin's grip, incredibly close to his high. Seokjin's cum escaping slowly out of his hole and running down his creamy white thighs and the hand around his cock pushed Yoongi to his release, "Ah-ah Hyung don't stop, ahh I'm going to come, shit ahh." His body tensed as he came harder than ever before, Seokjin barely moving his hand as his cock throbbed and pulsated.

"Hyung, you have no idea how long I've wanted this to happen." Yoongi sighed, wrapping his hands around Seokjin's neck, fingers crawling their way up to thread through short dark hair. "I've wanted to do that since the day I moved in," Seokjin whispered in reply, ears turning crimson, "Come on let's get cleaned up and then cuddle."

-----

The pair made their way into Seokjin's bed, snuggled between a mess of cushions and soft toys, their limbs a tangled mess as impatient hands explored naked skin. They laughed as revelations of their feelings for each other were finally said out loud, cheeks tight and sore from smiling so hard. "Seokjin-hyung can we do this more often?" Yoongi's eyes avoided the naked man beside him focusing on the window pane instead. "Well I would hope so since I want to make your my boyfriend Yoongi-yah." Fingers caught hold of Yoongi's chin as his face was guided towards Seokjin's, a shy kiss planted on his lips. "Yes Hyung, fuck yes I'll be your boyfriend."

The roommates turned lovers drifted off to sleep that night with satisfied smiles on their faces, excited for what the future would hold for them both.

[muffindaddystyles]

𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑁𝐺 & 𝐵𝐸𝐴𝑈𝑇𝐼𝐹𝑈L 

A oneshot of how you two met in the beautiful city of Italy, how Harry finds you an Angel descended from heaven above that took his hand and became his light. Dad!harry full of fluff..oh yeah dad!harry nation lets rise. .Part two of tooth rotting dad harry of it is here too. young and beautiful (II)

It's Saturday night. Harry and you intentionally have no plans but to loaf around in your guys cosy homely space. The candles flames with rośe tranquilness, the intro to movie watched many times together rolling in. Both of you are snuggled onto large body sucking sea-green velvet couch infront of telly.

His daddy long legs nestled atop your hip hooking around your ankle protecting you from falling if possible (moreso the fact he's extremely protective of you in your pregnancy.) His one elbow snaked around your collarbones which are now hiding underneath soft swelling, his sweater pawed arm sheltering around your huge eight months baby bump slender tender fingers tucked underneath your side.

You relaxes into him, back pressed to his tanned chest and with his chin resting atop your hair whenever he rasped out something it bobbed your whole head.

"Yeh' kay, baby? comfy?" He asks you for the hundredth time now caressing and stroking your chin, then earlobes, collarbones to your belly and the list goes on. It's one of his habits that he doesn't realizes himself more as ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑢𝑎𝑔𝑒. Harry's love language's physical contact, lots and lots of them. He finds calm in touching you here and there, raking his palms without them knowing their destination. He's cuddly and clingiest when drunk. Although, he has stopped drinking since you both are expecting but the clingy part of him jumped out during this period his only excuses are "wanna stay close to me' three babies." Or "i feel empty when you're even a bit away from me." 

"'M lover, stop worrying." You bring his jaw down with the tip of your pointer finger to kiss his lips gently with a tilt of your chin. He mumbles an anxious "cant." in your mouth running his thumb under the curve of your womb with amiable affection.

You hiss into his mouth when one of your bubba kicks you with ever most force and he pushes away with amused eyes, when he felt the kick against his palm. It's not like it's his first but everything related to his unborn babies muse him to utter excitement and tears of joy.

He shifts a tad resting his a little scruffy cheek against your silken naked bump, you're wearing one of his crotched zinc orange crop top and it bunched up your belly in very much likeness of Harry, he thinks you look so endearingly sexy he could make you use him as many times you want. His ear tucked under the crescent of your chest, "feels like jus' a barrier of skin between us." He bubbles his accent and you smile down at him infectiously. Meanouvering your fingers into his chestnut curls and massaging his scalp that made his eyelids futter into bliss.

There was another visible kick and Harry smoothed down the skin eyes shinning up at you, "a footy champ this one." You sucked your bottom lip trying not break into fits of laughter because from the weight your pelvis muscles has become weak and you end up leaving wet tiny splotches most of the time. First time you had it was two months ago you were fucking embarrassing and couldn't stop crying right after an hour of genuine laugh ofcourse caused by Harry when you guys shopped for babies and he wore that one onesie on his head being all goofy and child of two while expecting two himself.

"How're meh' baby girls. meh' bunnies." He smauched loud wet kisses all over your belly making slobbery snuggly voices to annoy you. You tug at his roots whining loudly because you know the undeniable loving scene of Harry talking to his two daughters will bring you to tears all because of stubborn hormones. Yes, two!

While you weren't even expecting a pregnancy, God said wait for my bumper surprise.

Everyone told your bump looks healthier than normal pregnancies but you ignored it until the day of gender check-up. Harry was ecastatic, fist pumping the air, bouncing with your hands intervined tears bloodshot in his eyelines. So were you...but you had a huge breakdown on the wooden floor of your home's threshold. You were blabbering thousand questions to him, body shaking and fighting to breath.

"I...I can't do this, Harry...too much 's too much." You cried to him that day. But he cradled your face into his calloused palms his temple kissed yours, "ye' can, my sweet girl. we can. wish I could bear one of our baby bunny, it's sad that I cant help ye'. But, it's my promise to be there for you forever and always." He leaned down to kiss you with so much love, more love he was keeping to himself ever since and more more love he can't put into words.

He comes back from your belly to leave a feathery kiss on your lips that makes you yearn for him more and settles back to his previous position, his face shoved into the crook of your neck and he presses kisses to the corner of your lips while your eyes remains glued to telly.

As Sally and Harry bickered in the car you chuckled softly fingers tracing his nose and the mole sheltered under it, "remember how we met?" His breath fanned tickling your cheek heartily when he shook his head with a giddy giggle.

"How could I not? Yeh' were a honey pot and a weepy mess after tha'." He scrunches his nose at you adorably reminiscing the night and series of nights after that.

"It was your fault mister." You twitch your lips turning to his side with his help and his hand sprawled at your back instinctively. "Ye' souvenired t' give a lonely guy like me some company, first." He smiles when you huffed. His beam getting joyously wider when your belly pressed tightly against his's and he kisses your forehead multiple times.

"Who thought that guy escapin' from Gucci's biggest event could be a dad of two girls." You quip playing with his neckline and his chest rumbled with a titter that sent you to cloud nine.

"Not me at all. But, if I could meet him back in time I'll tell him how lucky he's gonna be, how happy he'll be, that he doesn't needs to be a grumpy daddy when he could be a real happy one." His eyes are glassy and you cupped his cheeks placing your lips atop his into a feverish kiss of gentleness.

~𝐹𝑎𝑙𝑠ℎ𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑡𝑜 2015~

Gucci's spring festive on full blossom in the most popular old city of Italy, Milan. It's luxurious in all it's glory. A-list celebrities and world claimed most beautiful models. The hall clattered and shushed with talks, rumours, gossips and greets. Then it's fashion and tailored-fitted clothes, formal gowns. Fake smiles. Cold hearts.

On the long dinning table piled with food that sometimes's too difficult to pronounce Harry sat along with Kendall Jenner. His ex-girlfriend and a friend for now. She talks excitedly with the person infront of her snarling rude remarks here and there. Her hand came squeezing his thigh under the table that startled him from his imaginary world. A world where he's at peace, the luxuries doesn't exist and he's nothing but a normal person.

"Huh, love?" He kinks his brows together fiddling with the napkin in his lap and she gave him a furious pout for not giving her full attention, "I was pointing out how fast-fashion brands are shit." She rolls her eyes. Harry can't believe her bratty arse. He shrugged his thigh with a tad more harshness to get rid of her touch.

"Dunno. No' everyone could afford luxury brands." At this the model infront of them cackled more in her mock and sniffed to be polite in the fake hush of the room. Harry's eyes turned glassy and the jade in the murky to the visible irritation at their behaviour. His expressions dark and unreadable under the very less light.

Quiffing his long hickorey curls back he nibbed at his pointer finger's knuckle only to bend it under his chin afterwards, "'m serious." Kendall sighs loudly at this clearly annoyed by the way he's acting and the model infront of him gave him a 'whatever makes you sleep at night.' look and a shrug of her shoulders in arrogance while eating her steak.

Enough. Harry thinks with a grumble struck in his chest. He rakes the chair back that drew some attention but it drifted to some person sharing their experience and all that shit talk again on the loop.

Harry's guard followed him behind pushing the paparazzi away. Flashes in his eyes. Made up assumptions to his ears and shoved up opinions to his chest. He's sick. From all of this. He wants to shout to no-one in particular but himself, he wants an escape. He wants it with his every bleeding cell.

Then he takes a curt turn with a whiplash of his torso to dark alley beside the building from which he just exited and when he reached the end it was blocked by a brick wall so he jumped with ease to other side, his expensive boots scruffing against the gravel. He gave no care to the guard behind him.

He was in a local less populated street. Wider with the bumpy stones and there were people indeed but nobody paid him heed.

He sat on the concrete bench. Flinging his one leg over another hand gripping near his crotch and with a relieved huge exhale of breath he took his phone out going through it. After, so long he feels like he's a free dove who could breath free escaping from it's cage.

He's broken. Empty and in the rough path of his life. He doesn't know how to cope with it. It makes him fuckin' insane.

There's an ice-cream cart few steps away from where he's sitting alone onto bench. His head snaps at the beautiful giggle bouncing through the tangerine sky. He squints his eyes to get a better look of the group of friends crowding near the cart and licking onto their ice-creams.

Your white cotton dress furled with a wave of zephyr and the loose errand of your hair slipping from your low bun cascading around your face while you gave a belly ache laugh to one of your tall friend bopping his nose at his silliness.

Harry stares at the interaction of young people. They're just like him but looks more happy and youthful then why couldn't he?

His eyes are set on a certain figure and that's you still hidden from him as your friend Mona blocked the sight of your perfect view to Harry nudging your ribs.

"Is that Harry Styles." Jo mutters when his eyes fell over him and then he bashfully hisses, "don't look back! Don't look back. You guys are being too specific." Considering yourself stupid you spinned to have an ethereal sight of Harry sitting all by himself on the cold bench, his carved features glowing with the illumination of his phone screen still unlocked while he got distracted by you people.

"Doesn't feels like he's enjoying himself." Mona quipped taking a large swipe of her cold delight. None of them too interested in his wear abouts.

Call it clićhe but you don't have any thought in your mind before you're asking for an ice-cream cone from the ice-cream man heading towards him with your hands occupied with two.

Harry's breath hitching in his palpalating heart at the complete sight of you, for sore eyes for sure. His nerves jittery and knee bouncing in restlessness as you approaches him with a sweet grin. He takes in your complete look. White flowy dress and nude sandals, loop earrings and the bright red lipstick resembling the blood gush of his heart. 'Less is more' making you appear so beautiful.

Harry's so lost in his own brain wrecking that he forgot where you went but you rounds him from behind flinging your left leg on the other side of bench to sit on it with your legs on either side of it, he again startles getting off-guard hastily turning to face you when you tapped his shoulder.

Licking your own vanilla sweetness you forwarded the cone to him a sweet sheepish smile on your glowing hearty features. His body guard instantly changed his position to stop you but Harry gave him a stink eye accepting your offer shyly. Your cheeks heating even in the mild temperature when his supple fingers brushed yours.

"Thank you." His voice timid wiping the corners of his heart shaped lips but you just shrugged your shoulders leaning back with your hand pressed against the bench, "no problem. you're welcome." Harry gazes at your collarbones prodding from the flimsy fabric of your v-line then he shifted his gaze down to his Gucci loafers telling himself not to be a pervert. It's just you're too delicate that he can't stop admiring.

"I like your suit." You compliments him with glinting eyes and his cheeks flushed with shyness mumbling a "thank you." Under his erratic breath.

His eyes flutters and tummy flips when you bring your hand closer to him taking the sleeve of his jacket tugging at it, "it's too graphic you know...in a good way." He finds it endearing that you were this engulfed in just the design of his suit and when you tilt your chin peering up at him, he feels like his brain stopped functioning. He nods eyes still locked to yours and when he sense some coldness dripping down his thumb he quickly ducks down to lick it off causing his sculpted cheek to stroke against your silken ones in utter gentleness.

You gulp timidly sitting back straighter.

"So...? For what stuff you're here for Harry?" He loves the way his name sounds mellow coming from you. He clears his throat unwinding his long legs to stretch them wide and it nudged yours sending jolts to both of you, "uh, 'm 'ere fo' Gucci event." You beam at this shifting closer to him.

"I like the way it sounds comin' from you." He cackles at this running his fingers to tame his matte curls.

His tense demeanor slipping bringing his shy, timid and goofball ones exposed to you. He's himself surprised that all the built up frustration in his nerves drained away from your presence.

Being an art major and a fashion geek you asks him with ferverishness patting his knee, "what was it like? I've heard it's mesmerising." He chuckles at this. He wanna scoff because a sweet girl like you wouldn't last a second there.

"'S okay. I guess." He elevates his shoulder in bored expression and when the ice-cream swipes at the tip of his nose you giggled bunching forward to his side. He smiles down at you squinting his eyes narrow in an accuse.

"And what yer' here fo'? Wait yeh from here?" You bite the waffled cone chewing it. Words muffling with a full mouth, "having a trip with my University's friends. I live in London though. I really really wanted to see Milan. So, here I'm." You make an innocent childish face raising your arms in air to show him and his heart's soothing to peace with every homely action you'd pull to make him relaxe.

Then there was silence that Harry was unaware how to break. He could hear you talking for an eternity. On the other hand you aren't that akward to make conversations with people. No doubt you're shy, and wants your own space to blossom but this one habit of yours is inseparable.

"You know when back home. An ice-cream man would come daily at midnight in summers. Me and my cousins would climb up his bicycle cart like darn monkeys. Pop our heads inside the freezer and annoy the fuck outta him. God I miss home." There's this un-pointable feeling. That's unfigurative to Harry but it's there; of admiration and of endearment. His heart's at cloud nine caressing itself to the pink cotton candy.

His heart reaches out for you from his ribcages as the homesickness glistered in your irises. You weren't obliged to talk to him, to give him company but you still did beacuse beautiful accidents and coincidence happen in the admist of rushed streets.

Harry parted his lips to talk to you more but he has nothing, his life's not unknown by anyone and the normal scenarios of people entertains him so much.

His head snaps when you grin widely at him throwing the last and best of cone inside your mouth. Your small pretty mouth chewing like a rabbit and Harry wants to have a touch, just some to shush the fire in his stomach.

His head snapping when you yelled to children that were skipping on rope waving to them, "hey kiddos! Wanna have some ice-cream!?" They all left their play of galloping running towards you. Harry looks at you wide eyes eating his last bits away.

"Our hotel gave us a coupon for free ice-creams." You laugh standing up and he wants to catch you by wrist to stop you going away from him but when you squeeze his shoulder leaning to whisper in his ear chills ran down by his spine, "will be right back." He swallows thickly nodding eyes trailing to you as you collects all the little fellas to cart.

He watches you. Is she an Angel? A mirage to help him out of his anxiousness? Or a smoke in his mind that'll disappear soon? He thinks picking on his nails. He's not ready to step out of the calm bubble you created so delicately around him. Only if life could be this easier.

He rolls his eyes playfully sucking his lips inside his mouth when he sees you paying extra for more. He looks back to his body-guard. Maybe you didn't noticed him or cares less but Harry's kinda annoyed that he has to be here in such a happy vulnerable moment of his life.

"Thank you nice lady!" Harry chuckles gleefully when all of the kids thanked her licking onto their sweets. "It's okay kids, be careful before I take them back."

Shaking your head you strides back to Harry coming to stand infront of him. You can fit perfectly between his legs if he opened them wider for you, that desireful thought swooshed through his mind but he shakes it away.

"Thank ye' nice lady." He squeaks in high teasing pitch standing up and your eyes widened when he literally towered you fully. Your height differences funny even you're in heels.

"Not you now." You declared with blushed cheeks. His irirses glinted when you fumbled with the sides of your dress.

"So...this's it?" You ask him peering up at him with such gooeness he could whimper. Shivers running down your body as the weather turned rather more chill.

"This's it.." Harry whispers. He feels what? a lump of wetness in his throat? He's at the brink though.

"Thank you for bearing my monkey ass." You guffawed out but he has serenity in his eyes. He thins his lips. "I should be the one to say thanks."

He was taken aback when you hugged him running soothing circles at his back. He inhales your tangerine vanilla scent embracing you fully now. If he could freeze the time he would in a snap. He feels like he's all the way back home after travelling shallow through the whole world.

"It's gonna be alright, whatever it's Harry. It'll be alright. You're gonna be alright. It gets bumpy but you still have so much for you." Harry wants to cry in some strangers arms. He feels so defeated and tired. But, the determination and affirmation in your voice made him think opposite. He'll do it. He can do it.

He didn't let you go first. You untageled yourself from him gently swaying on your feet, taking a step back and he couldn't blink his eyes away from you as you bit your crimson lip.

You take steps away from him eyes still locked to his jade ones and he calls you out through the breeze looking for passing by cars if possible because you're standing in the middle of street.

"Hey, stranger!!!" You tilt your chin in a questioning and shake your head at his lopsided cheshire smile, "forgot t' tell ye'r name!" He yells out in rushed anticipation and anxiousness as if he'd loose you if any minute ticks by.

Goosebumps appears at your bare legs from the chill, "Y/N. Y/L/N." Then you spin around raising your hand high atop your head waving it for Harry.

"Ba-bye. Harry." You says loudly but it doom vacuumed to emptiness once you step inside your hotel's lobby leaving Harry at his own sake again.

Standing still at his spot. Hands shoved into his trouser's pocket and long spiral curls framing his sculpted features he watches you with a furrow of his brows from the glass of hotel. His frown getting deeper when you threw your head back laughing when you bumped into your friend who was coming to find you, you caught his wrist eyes widening at something funny he said and Harry sighs thinking maybe you're just this kind and generous and that he's not a special case in your book.

With an exhausted sigh he makes his way towards his bodyguard who gives him a side mishevious eye, "happy now, Styles?" Harry jabs a shove to his bulky shoulder playfully lips twitching and eyes narrowing, "oh shut up!" His mood more lightened and gleeful than his previous one thanks to you.

***

Next day when Kendall and her friend dragged Harry to fancy the local streets of Milan. Harry had a less scowling face than before. They stopped infront of some shop to buy bagels that someone bumped right square into Harry's back making him stumble a little.

It's you. Rushing out of a pharmacy. Harry's gaze trails from your toe to head and his lips parts in surprise. The whole past night in his lonely hotel bedroom you were his dream of heart and the stubborn thought of his mind while the thump of after party going downstairs kept him occupied and fainted the erratic pace of his heart. Then his brows kink in worry and concern at the grueling sight of you.

You're in a pink sweater and pyjamas. Eyes glassy. Cheeks flushed and blazing. Nose running and hair poking out in every direction. He takes a gentle step towards your astonished figure brewing fingers reaching out to hold you but when you keeps a distance from him his heart falls in his arse, and when you cough in your elbow he realizes that you're maybe cold or having a fever.

"You okay, love?" He asks you. Voice that of honey and panic dripping from his features. You gives him a big smile bobbing your head quickly and he have an urgency not to roll his eyes at you. Because you don't seem okay from any angle!

"'M just having a tiny cold it's not that worrisome." Harry's eyes pops out from his socket at your voice. It's groggy and hoarse not that sweet warm honey that was fusing in his ears last night. "Y/N. You can barely speak, are you sure you're okay?" You try to give him a small smile at his care but it got suppressed by another throat tearing cough. Poor little thing. Harry fawns looking down at you.

At this he abruptly saturates the distance between you two, "note me' number, darlin'. Promise me you'd call me if you feel too sick." You give a glance to his two friends coming by to stand beside him.

"Hi." You greet them in hoarseness and they wince when you forward your hand for a shake making you feel ashamed and embarrassed of your politeness when they didn't accepted it. Harry jaw ticks in furiousness as he glares them it's all adding up to push his nerves now.

He takes your shivering hand with an arch of his brow to his friends in challenging sterness noting down his phone number at your palm. You give him a soft "okie." and a "thank you." waving him and his friends a good-bye. He notices that you're not someone to hold grudges against someone. He knows that Kendall's behaviour throws people off but you didn't seem to mind it too much.

"Who was she Harry?" Kendall asks him chewing onto her bagel. Harry shrugs not keen to spill any precise details, "someone I met last night."

She tries to scrape more from him. "How?" Harry closes his eyes tugging at his roots not ready to snap at her.

Harry thinks many times to say the right words so that she'd shut up but still ends up saying something that infuriated her ego and mock, "she offered me ice-cream—" Her friend scoffs perking his head.

"Mate you're nuts for accepting something from a stranger." Logically yes. But you meant no harm to him. Your eyes were truthful and shined with sincerity.

Harry stays silent walking inside their hotel. The hostess asks them if they'd like to have a brunch.

On the other hand you climbed up the stairs to your room with a lazy gait. Your lungs burning. Once inside your room. You takes your medicine with a shivering body and minus energy to even raise your finger. You want to cry but you give a pep talk to yourself that you're a brave girl squishing yourself in your bed, hiding under three blankets.

There's bright sun outside but still you're feeling like someone placed you atop Antarctica's glacier snatching every clothing item from you. Your friends are all out and you wish you could have them. You hate being sick and alone.

When you woke up again. You felt horrible. Feeling like a truck crushed you underneath itself. When you tried to sit up, you fell back a reckless painful sob erupting from your lungs as with wavering fingers you massaged your sweaty forehead. The sheets under you drenched into sweat and hotness. Panic rising in your chest as your vision blurred with blackness so you dialed Harry's number immediately in the fear someone should be with you in case you faint.

"He—" He was cut off with your loud crying. The fork in his hand clanking against the sleek plate gaining everyone's attention. "'S okay. 'M comin'. I'll be there in no time love." He speaks hastily telling his bodyguard not to follow him with a gesture of his hand while striding to his car in big steps.

"Y/N. Darlin'? Yeh' there?" He asks you with his chest tightening with anxiety when the other end of line was dead as grave, "'m, i'm." Your breath spurts into coughs and Harry sighs sympathetically at your condition. It took him fifteen minutes to reach your hotel.

"Which room?" None of you noticed that the phone was still on line. You were half conscious cheeks soaked and smashed into silk pillow case. "Room number, sweets?" He asks you patiently running through different floors to take care of you as soon as possible.

"2-234.." You stutter. Harry halts in the middle of corridor snapping his head everywhere your room was three rooms away from him.

"Can yeh' stand up for me and unlock the door for meh? Can yeh do that sweet girl?" Harry's standing at your door and your sob muffles into your arm when you shake your head in denial. Luckily the door was unlocked.

"Stupid girl." Harry mutters under his breath pressing the red button when he finally tumbles inside your room. He wants to scold you for not caring for your safety when you're sick, fragile and barely able to stand up.

His heart grips into a knot when you turn to your side. The girl he was with last night long gone. Your lips blue and wobbling. Cheeks red and wet. Sweat sheening. Your body shaking. You could be barely seen from under the layers of blankets.

"Oh sweet girl. 'm so sorry." The mattress dips under his weight and he hovers over you taking you in his arms instantly. Squeezing you tight and warm, it feels good so you cuddles your face into the crook of his neck. He gasps when his hand glides down your back and finds it pooling with so much sweat, and you burning like sun outside.

"You're burnin' love." He says with wide eyes cautiously smoothing his hand at your back to make you feel better.

"It hurts, Harry." Harry pulls you from your shoulders rolling his thumb in the dips to massage them, "where?" Your chest rumbles with another whimper as you bolt your eyes shut.

"Everywhere."

He inquires further and you give a drowsy moan when he expertly massages your shoulders and arms, "did you take your medicine?" You nod at this head falling against his chest and if he wouldn't be so worried about your condition his tummy would've flipped so hard.

"And did yeh' ate somethin' befo' that?" When you shake your head in rejection he again pulls you back looking down at you in offend and shock.

"Y/N..." He warns you with a tough expression. Then he cups your cheeks making you look at him even though your eyes are closed he scolds you strictly, "Y/N you should be kind to yourself too."

"Now. 'M gonna take ye' to hospital." He announces and you squirm away from his grip shaking your head like a child. You hate hospitals.

"Y/N..don't be difficult darlin'." Only if he knew he has to deal with this his whole life. As you try to speak your words swallows back when he snakes his arms under your armpits making you stand up.

"No buts. Look at ye'. Yer condition will worsen if yeh' keep refusin' to go." With your whole weight over his side he makes you sit in the passenger seat, stroking your cheek with his knuckles giving you a reassuring smile and rounding to his driver side.

He keeps on checking you through the whole drive. You're still high on fever when he places his palm at the curve of your neck then at your forehead tsking when you moaned in pain, "'s gonna be alright." He rubs your knee trying to give you a smile through his own anxiousness.

They checks you in the ER. The doctor notes your symptoms on his notepad and Harry gazes you in full concentration sitting right beside you, he has your fingers laced with his's and he's continuously rubbing your back to provide you with any warmth.

"I've a very low immune system since I had a tonsillectomy when I was nine. Had an ice-cream last night and quite often I know I get sick in this season." You toy with his silver rings carelessly. Harry admires you. Dunno why. He just do. Because he thinks he might be falling for the way you talk, you behave and try to remain polite in every circumstances.

"Miss Y/N since you've your tonsils removed your coping mechanism from bacteias's less and you've caught a pneumonia." Your head immediately turns to look at Harry and when he sees that fear in your eyes he unwinds his hand from yours leaning to take your chin, "hey...hey lovie'. It's okay you'll heal in a week."

The doctor hands the prescription to Harry. The next thing he announces makes you sob like a five years old, "no. no. no." You shake your head shrinking back and Harry gives the doctor a sheepish akward smile stroking your hair.

Doctor sighs at your behaviour leaving at last, "the nurse will be here soon to give you injections."

Harry quickly stands up shutting the large curtain that's around the stretcher bed you both are sitting at as soon as he comes back you wrap your hands around his forearm. He hisses when you dig your nails to his flesh your tears dropping at his wrists.

"I don't like needles. I loathe them. They scare me." You sniffle and Harry ducks to your level metting your glossy gaze. He caress your head kissing your hair, "you're so brave. I know it. It would just be a pinch. Ye' can squeeze the fuck outta my hand if yeh want to." He has his fingers tucked under your earlobes as he again and again wipes your tears.

The nurse comes to you shutting the curtains behind her. She's old lady in age and observes the couple infront of her. Well, for her you both are looking like one.

You immediately move back to Harry's side as he's sitting now with his front infront of you, "scared of needles." Harry tells her timidly in a low voice puffing his cheeks a bit in gentility.

Harry saps his opal teeth into his lower lip when you wrapped your elbow around the nape of his neck bringing him down closer to you and your face shoved to his chest near his armpit. His other arm wrapping around your waist to flush you closer to him. He tries to drift your attention to himself whispering sweet nothings into your ear and the nurse awes applying alcohol where she has to inject the needle.

"'S okay. We're gonna get home after this, have some soup, will take a nap, watch some telly...." He smoothes his hand over your spine grasping it softly. You stiff in his genial hold twitching and hissing loudly when the needle was poked and pushed into your delicate skin. His white shirt's completely soaked into your tears now but he doesn't give two fucks.

"Just two more." The nurse mutters and you perk your head away from Harry's chest looking at her horrified, "two more!?" You squeak out hiccuping and Harry has to suppress his giggle at your expense from how adorable you look.

He again shoves your head back in his armpit muffling your huffing and tantrums. "Don't move darlin' don't wanna get yeh' hurt." His hold tight and firm.

"Hurts." You pout and Harry traces it stopping himself to just lean down and kiss it. Nurse left you guys to yourself and Harry breaths loudly grinning at you, patting his thighs standing up helping you too.

"Thank you, Harry." You crane your neck to see him properly rubbing your nose once Harry makes sure you're sitting in his car comfortably.

"No problem, love." He kisses your cheek making your lips quirk up for the first time.

***

You're sitting crossed legs on the twin sized bed of your hotel room. Harry takes a quick glance of you pouring soup into some bowl. Your temperature a little bit coming back to normal, sweat still there as you rests your head back at the board of bed. You're room's nothing sort of luxurious it's dinky and compact.

"Here love." Harry hands you the soup making sure to be careful that you don't get burnt and you takes it from him with a series of appreciation.

"Feelin' better now?" He asks you rubbing your ankles as you places your feet in his lap. Blowing onto your soup and he does the same shoving spoonful in his mouth.

"Way better. Felt like dying honestly." Harry couldn't imagine how bad your condition was he saw it himself and he gives you a weak smile, his man-bun getting loose now.

"Where are your friends? they should have known that you weren't feeling well."

"They asked me but—" Harry's low voice cut you off. In just a day he got to know what your nature's like.

"But you didn't wanted to spoil their fun." You roll your eyes playfully wiggling your toes in his lap to tickle his tummy but he catches them making you squeal through sore throat.

He giggles when you slurp purposedly attaching your lips to the rim of your bowl. Once you're full he places your medicine in your palm and when you makes an icky face he gives you a stern gaze, "uh-huh. Take 'em."

When you swallow the bitter medicines down with a huge gulp of water he pats your head, "good girl." He puts the glass at nightstand. Caressing your jaw, "wanna take a nap?" You nod.

"W-would you lay down with me, ...'s just my body aches and—" You tried to explain without letting heat to creep at your cheeks. He bobs his head furiously more than okay to fulfil your wish.

Without any word he shifts gently to your side getting rid of the hair band that was trapping his long curls into a bun, squeezing into twin sized bed with you, "sorry." he quips when you hiss at his cold bare feet touching your warm ones.

"It's okay." You smile up at him moving closer to him. Sheets rustling underneath as you rests your head over his sprawled forearm. Your bodies reacting automatically like one of soulmates when your knee nudged his legs and he parted them so that you could place your sore one in between them. You molded into him like a piece of puzzle, that was just meant to fill the part of him that was scraped out because of his fate leaving him shallow and empty.

"Sorry for ruining your day." You mumble into his neck fingers brushing the baby curls at the nape of his neck. He shakes his head running his thumb in circles under your hair that were sticking to your neck, "No, thank you fo' makin' my day better. 'M havin' fun babying you." You titters at this and he sighs. There's calm. Heart beats in sync. Yours was racing moments ago. You're tangled into eachother's embrace and he pulls thin blanket ontop of both of you.

You purr wishing he could be always with you at how he's a walking talking heater, "you're warm." Harry senses come to a pause at the kitten voice you just let out snuggling into him deeper and exhaling the breath he was holding in. He melts into you kissing your forehead and petting your cheeks.

"Sleep sweet girl." His breathing lulls you to deep slumber.

***

It's late in night. Harry squints his eyes to street lights coming from the balcony window. He groans and when pushes his face away from you, a huge lovesick smile dances at his lips. He slept so good after so long. Your warmth and sweet flesh pressed into him made him drift to sleep so quick.

He brushes your loose hair back, adorning every feature of you. Fever making you look more glowy and swelly. Then when he leans to kiss your forehead he hears the quite whimper escaping from your lips.

He places his hand at your neck to check and you're again burning. Sighing he wakes you up by smoothing his hands down your arm, stroking your hair gently and tapping your cheek with his two fingers.

You're murmuring weepily in your sleep. "Wake up y/n. It's time for your second dose." He keeps his voice slow not to startle you and your eyelids fluttered taking it's time to absorb his presence.

You shift back against the headrest. He brings the glass closer to your lips after giving you medicine. One hand on your head other making you sip water.

"W-wanna go home. Home Harry." You say in your breaths hiccuping and Harry feels so helpless. He tries to calm you down in every way possible.

He knows you're not talking about going back to London. Your talking about your actual homeplace. Then it hits him, that you're both missing that feeling. Even though you're bubbly, happy and cheerful girl you still miss home as Harry does too. You're perfect for eachother.

He takes you in his arms bringing you back to bed. You hug him close to your heart tearing in his embrace, soft whimpers in his ears that's a knife to his stomach. He pecks the side of your head multiple times.

"Home." You sniff eyes dropping. Harry messages your scalp. Your body moving up and down as he breaths. Your continuous blabbering of 'home' dulls to your sleeping breath and Harry's own eyes craved for more drowsiness with you.

He bolts his eyes shut when his phone vibrates under him. "What!?" He spats whisper yelling, you still over him. He doesn't want to disturb you by any means. Not when you're sick and went back to sleep with so much difficulty.

"'M not coming." He declares dryly as his manager tries his best to coax him back to whatever place they want him asap.

He throws his phone onto sheets cuddling back into you, letting your scent to consume him fully. His heart prancing at the thought of serenity he'll feel while sleeping else it's just jolts of anxiety.

***

Next morning your arms were holding onto nothing, there's no shoulder on which you were crying earlier. The room's dull and sheets cold. Sun refused to outshine for today it didn't got any emarld to beam at.

"Harry...?" You whisper innocently rubbing sleepiness from your eyes and when the silence laughed back at your face you sigh sadly.

You knew from the very start that his presence was just a mere touch of heaven and it's not his fault that you never got to complete dive into him.

It's just you and your homesick soul staring blankly at the flower wallpaper. His soft, giddy vanilla smell hugging you from every side. Consuming your body and you didn't realized you'll miss him until now.

Maybe, you and your love was contagious to him.

.

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 a 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞!!! Don't forget to give your feedbacks.

[kcarreras]

Underneath Tangerine Skies

Fandom: Outer Banks Pairing: JJ Maybank & Kiara Carerra Summary: Set after 2x10: JJ & Kie discuss the events of that day on the ship which leads to some emotional chat which naturally leads to them making out against a tree… you’re welcome.

The Pogues never had any real idea of the exact time whilst they were on the island, for obvious reasons, but on this occasion - with the sun sitting low in the sky, casting pink and orange hues out across the water - Kie’s best guess was that it was early evening. The temperature had begun to drop, humidity dissipating a little, making it easier to breathe.

She had been traipsing around the island for a while now, looking for JJ, when she cast her eyes up to the grassy embankment lined sporadically with trees ahead of her, where the solid ground of the island met the white sandy beach.

“Thank god,” she sighed in relief at the sight of him sitting at the foot of one of the bigger trees. His back was against the trunk, his knees bent and forearms resting on them, looking out across the water.

“JJ!” she called as she made her way over to him and up the sandy slope, but he didn’t seem to hear her over the sound of the lapping waves.

The waves against the shore was a sound they all seemed to find comforting - something familiar to remind them of their real island home - but JJ seemed to seek it out more often than the rest of them.

“Hellooo,” she sing-songed and JJ turned in her direction, a smile spreading out across his features as he noticed her approaching. Kie’s arms were held out either side of her to keep her balance, eyes focused on her feet as she sunk slightly into the soft sand of the slope with each step.

“What are you doing out here on your own?” Kie asked, trying desperately not to sound like an overprotective mother.

“Everyone’s looking for you. We were worried you’d been eaten by your ‘nemesis’”.

JJ raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

“The ‘Killer Island Lizard’, who else?” Kie clarified with a roll of her eyes as she dropped down next to him with a knowing grin, pulling her knees up to her chest to mirror his position as she dusted the sand from her hands.

On their second night on the island, JJ woke everyone up, jumping around and hollering in the dark about some huge lizard-like creature that had apparently crawled into their shelter. By the time they had fumbled around in a panic in the pitch black looking for one of the last remaining flare guns from the raft to use as a light, it had ‘disappeared’.

Once John B had swiftly yet gently smacked him round the back of the head for scaring the shit out of them all in the middle of the night, they tried to explain that it was probably nothing - just a figment of his imagination or a too-real nightmare. But JJ being JJ, he refused to accept all their rational responses. He’d of course began by naming it the most basic yet ridiculous name he could think of - hence the Killer Island Lizard - and had insisted that he sit up through the night and keep watch, determined to prove it was real. Every morning since, though, the Pogues had woken up to JJ passed out asleep at his “post” with his Swiss army knife still in-hand and - unsurprisingly - no evidence. It had kind of become a running joke.

“You know, you guys can laugh all you want, but I’ve seen it, with my own two eyes,” he began, his middle and index finger forming a ‘V’ as he gestured from his eyes to Kie’s. “All scale-y and fang-y and shit,” he finished with a dramatic shudder.

“Right,” Kie drawled with a roll of her eyes, knocking her shoulder into his.

“I’m just sayin’, don’t come crying to me when this little island retreat of ours turns into a low-budget remake of Planet of the Dinosaurs.”

“Planet of the Dinosaurs? Okay, first of all JJ, that’s not even a thing,” Kie replied, her signature ‘where did I even find these boys’ expression on her face, and JJ shrugged. “Second of all, if we have to compare your ridiculous lizard scenario to a movie, it’d be more like Jurassic Park.”

“Whatever,” he said, unbothered by her correction. “Doesn’t matter anyway, ‘cause luckily for you, I owe you one. Therefore, I promise to rescue you first before I come back for the others.” He proudly assured her, as if she needed it.

“Of course… and not that I’m complaining or anything, but what exactly have I done to deserve the top spot on JJ Maybank’s rescue list?” Kie asked, feigning flattery with a hand over her chest.

“I don’t know if you remember, Kie, but you jumped off a freakin’ cargo ship into the middle of the ocean to save my ass. I think you earned the top spot,” he replied.

“Well what kinda Pogue would I be if I’d just let your ass drown like that? Especially since you took the blunt end of that machete to the head defending me,” she said, her tone light. She was still smiling, but JJ saw something akin to guilt flash across her eyes as she spoke.

“Oh, so it was all to do with you maintaining your pogue rep, and nothing to do with how miserable you’d be without me around?” he asked, knocking her knee with his.

Kie’s smile faltered at the words “without me around”, and her gaze dropped from his face to her hands, which were hugging her knees as she fidgeted with her rings. She lifted her eyes for a second, looking out to the ocean ahead of them, vast and endless, and quickly blinked in an attempt to suppress the tears that stung at the corner of her eyes.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before speaking again.

“C’mon, we better get going before everyone thinks we really have been eaten by your stupid killer-lizard,” she said with a half-hearted laugh as she moved to her feet.

She had barely left the sand when JJ’s hand reached up and took a gentle hold of her wrist, causing her to land back down on the same spot with a soft thud.

“Hey, you alright?” he asked, tipping his head forward to try and meet her eyes, but she was looking straight down into her lap.

“Kie, look at me for a second, would you?” he said, reaching across the short distance between them to tilt her chin up until her eyes met his.

She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were glassy and it looked like tears were threatening to spill. With one blink, one fell from each eye, running down her cheeks until she reached up and swiped her two hands across her face, capturing them.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and it sounded so sincere that she was sure her heart actually cracked open a little.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” she said, casting her eyes upwards to the sky, but she felt JJ’s gaze stay on her. “It’s just, we’ve been here, what? Like a week? And we still haven’t talked about it.”

“Talked about what?” he asked.

“About the ship, JJ. You almost died,” she said, as if he somehow wasn’t already aware.

“Yeah, I know, Kie, I was there,” he said with a humourless chuckle.

“No, JJ. You don’t get it,” she said, taking hold of one of his hands in hers. His eyes dropped down for a second in surprise to look, and her knuckles were pale with the pressure of her grip.

“When I looked over the side of that ship and you were face-down in the water, every instinct in my body told me to jump. So I did, without a second thought.” Kie said, her voice beginning to sound almost panicked, as if she was reliving it as she spoke.

“Kie, it’s okay. You don’t have to-” he tried to interrupt, but she had started and now she couldn’t stop.

“I held you up, and I tried not to panic, and I treaded that water until I felt like my lungs were going to burst.”

She was breathless, her words rushed, and JJ squeezed her hand that was still holding his.

“I don’t know how I did it, Jage. John B and Pope asked me how we didn’t go under, and I don’t know the answer. All I know is that it was never an option for me not to at least try. I mean, I can’t even imagine-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” JJ comforted her, pulling her into his side with the hand they had been holding. He sat back against the trunk of the tree, and she settled into the space beside him, her head resting where his chest met his shoulder. His arm went around her waist to hold her in place, and squeezed gently.

“You don’t have to imagine anything, alright? I’m here, you’re here, everyone’s good, Kie.”

Her hands gripped at the material of his tank, eyes closed as she tried to ground herself and slow her breath. After a few seconds, she felt the side of his head gently rest on the top of hers.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until she felt JJ shift beside her. He lifted his head and turned at the waist until his body was facing hers.

“You know, when we were on the deck, and that guy was swinging the machete around?” he began, his eyes dropping to look straight down into Kie’s, and she nodded, staring back up at him. “He was behind you, and all I knew in that moment as I was running towards him was that I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as you were okay.”

“Jay-,” Ki tried to say, but he continued anyway.

“It was never an option for me not to try, either… because God know’s, Kie, I can’t imagine-”

Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she leaned up, her hand still gripping the front of his tank as she pulled him down toward her. Her mouth collided with his, then she pushed upward, JJ’s back pressing against the tree trunk behind them. They were still for a second, their lips pressed together, eyes closed and hearts pounding in sync against each other’s chests. Almost instantly, JJ’s hands came up to take hold of her face and then they were honest to God kissing.

It could have been seconds or minutes or hours, who knows, but suddenly she didn’t feel close enough and Kie turned herself more toward him, pushing up onto her knees before straddling his lap. They eventually broke apart, out of breath and eyes bright. Kie’s hands were knotted in the front of his shirt, and JJ’s had found their way to her hips. Her forehead was resting against his, both their breathing still laboured.

“This is a bad idea, right?” he asked, eyes still closed and his mouth inches from hers.

“For sure. Maybe the worst idea either of us has ever had,” Kie replied, but her mouth fell forward to meet his again, and she felt him tighten his grip on her hips before sliding his hands up her back beneath her shirt.

“Do you- wanna- stop?” he hesitantly questioned between kisses, and she shook her head silently, her mouth still against his as she rolled her hips. His mouth fell open for a second, a startled groan escaping, and Kie couldn’t help but pull away to smile against his mouth. In response, one of his hands went straight to the back of her head, tangling in her hair as he pulled her mouth back to meet his, kissing her deeper before tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth. This time it was Kie that moaned into JJ’s mouth, and he grinned as her hand raked it’s way through his hair, pulling on it until he released her lip with a groan.

“Up,” she said, gesturing for him to raise his arms with a glassy-eyed smile. He did, and she took hold of the bottom of his tank and pulled it up over his head, throwing it down on the sand beside them. They were kissing again instantly, his hands squeezing her hips as her hands roamed over his bare chest, nails dragging and causing his skin to prickle with goosebumps. She smiled against his mouth, and he pulled back, his head resting against the tree as his hands came to rest on the smooth expanse of her thighs as she sat back on his lap.

“Fairs, fair,” he said, his eyes slowly dropping from her eyes to her chest and back again.

Kie rolled her eyes and smirked, crossing her arms over her stomach and pulling her shirt over her head, tossing it down on top of JJ’s. He smiled wide, eyes ablaze and biting his lip as he slid his hands up her thighs and back to her hips, pulling her forward so they were flush against each other.

She tried to ignore the eruption of goosebumps across her skin at the forefulness of the motion as he ran his fingers up and down the bare skin of her waist, setting her insides alight, and deflected with a question.

“You’ve seen me in a bikini a million times, what’s the big deal?” she asked, arms hooked loosely around his neck, fingers playing mindlessly with the ends of his messy hair.

“When a girl looks as hot as you in a bikini, it’s a big deal every time you see it,” he replied, leaning forward to catch her lips again but she leaned back, throwing a hand up covering his mouth, and he looked at her confused.

“Just any girl in a bikini, or…?” she asked with an exaggerated, quizzical look and he swatted her hand away pulling her to him by her wrist with a roll of his eyes, causing Kie to pull her bottom lip between her teeth to contain a laugh.

“Just you, dumbass. Now stop fishing for compliments and c’mere…” he said as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, all traces of her smile disappearing as her eyes fell closed at the sensation of his mouth against her skin. Her hips began moving against him again, and she wasn’t even aware she was doing it until his name started to fall from her mouth in breathy whispers. This only spurred JJ on, and he began pulling her hips downwards as she rolled them, increasing the pressure.

“Fuck,” she groaned, a little louder than she intended, when they hit a particularly good rhythm.

JJ had moved to the other side of her neck now, and Kie had tilted her head back to allow him more access. Her bottom lip was between her teeth in an attempt to stop any more outbursts that might get them caught.

JJ made his way back up her neck, along her jaw and to her lips, her name rolling off his tongue and into her mouth like a prayer.

Her hands, which were back in his hair at this point, pulled on a handful and he broke away from her breathless, eyes falling closed for a second before his head came to rest against the tree again.

He watched as her hands went behind her back to remove her bikini top, and he groaned, cursing under his breath and squeezing his eyes shut as he brought his hands up to stop her.

“Whoa there, hold up,” he breathed.

“Wha- what’s wrong?” Kie asked breathlessly, confusion clouding her flushed face as she tried to catch her breath, her hand running through her long, dark hair.

“Nothing. It’s just…” he said, leaning forward and looking around in every direction, just to make sure no one had wandered nearby whilst they were… distracted.

“Jay, if you wanna stop, we can stop…” she said, suddenly feeling a little on display straddled across him, inches from his face and minus half their combined clothing.

“Are you kidding?” he said with a laugh, his eyebrows raised incredulously. “Fuck no, I don’t wanna stop. It’s just, we’re gonna have to stop eventually because we can’t… y’know, here…” he said, making all sorts of expressions and gestures to get his point across. Kie hummed, one eyebrow raised as she deliberately kept her face dead-pan, enjoying watching him squirm.  

“…not that I’m assuming that this was going to lead to that, but - shit. You know what I mean, right? Please tell me you know what I mean,” and a smile broke out across Kie’s face as her head fell forward with a laugh, forehead coming to rest on his gently for a second before sitting back to look at him.

“Oh, I’m glad you’re finding this so funny.” JJ said, his head falling back against the tree, eyes closed and hands dragging down his face.

“I’m sorry,” she started, pressing a hand affectionately to his chest, still laughing. “I just never imagined this scenario playing out with you being the sensible one.”

JJ lifted his head from against the tree, opening one eye curiously.

“But you have imagined it?” He replied with a grin that made him look far too pleased with himself, and Kie gave a gentle push at his chest with a light-hearted roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, well, here I am, being sensible,” he groaned, sitting up straighter against the tree. “Excellent timing as always, JJ,” he muttered under his breath to himself.

“Anyway, the point is, if you do that,” he said, gesturing to the bikini top she had been about to remove, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna have a problem that’s a little difficult to solve with 5 other people around 24/7.”

“My bad,” she conceded, holding her hands up in surrender before leaning forward to press a kiss to his mouth. She settled back in his lap, a little further down his legs to allow him some space to… regroup. She dropped her hands into her lap with a huff as they looked at each other.

“Sooo,” she said, “What do we do now?”

“Excellent question, Kie. I think we start with you putting this back on,” he said, reaching for her shirt and handing it to her. “‘Cause I’m not gonna be able to stand up until you do.”

She laughed with a shake of her head, pulling her top back on and holding her arms out in a “tah-dah” like gesture.

“Better?” she asked, removing herself from his lap altogether and standing with one foot either side of his legs. She extended her hands down to him to help him up.

“Much,” he groaned, taking hold of her outstretched hands, getting to his feet with a huff.

“Okay,” Kie said with a determined sigh. “I’ll go back first, you follow in a few minutes, got it?”

“Got it,” he said, scooping his tank up from the sand and shaking it off, before pulling it over his head.

Kie nodded, but as she turned to walk away, she felt him take hold of her wrist and pull.

“JJ!” she laughed as she stumbled back towards him.

He caught her from behind with his arms around her waist, and pressed kisses into her neck and shoulder, grazing the skin with his lips and teeth.

“Jay,” she protested weakly, tilting her head back and to the side to let him carry on up to the shell of her ear.

“What?” he questioned with fake innocence, his hands pulling at her hips as he pressed up behind her, and she half-laughed, half-groaned.

“You’re the one who wanted to stop,” she reminded him, and she turned in his arms until they were facing each other. Her arms were draped over his shoulders, nails scratching gently at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, well, maybe I changed my mind,” he backtracked as he turned them round, her back hitting the tree he’d been leaning against earlier. The bark dug into the exposed skin of her back and shoulders, and suddenly she was grateful just to have pressure against any part of her body.

“You’re unbelievable,” Kie said as his mouth came back down on hers. She tried to keep her lips pressed together in protest, but then his knee found it’s way between hers, pushing them apart as his thigh came to rest between her legs.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he quipped against her mouth with a grin, nipping at her lip for entry.

“Not gonna happen, you had your chance,” she asserted teasingly between chaste kisses, and she felt his smile widen before he pushed his leg forward and up between hers. Her mouth fell open on instinct, a moan escaping involuntarily from the back of her throat. JJ’s tongue dipped in immediately, and suddenly they were back in a frenzy of hands and tongues and laboured breaths.

By comparison, JJ kept the movement of his leg that was still between hers steady and slow, but before long Kie’s hips were moving erratically on their own against him.

“JJ, fuck,” she groaned into his mouth, her teeth coming down around his bottom lip and he hummed in agreement.

His hands were roaming the bare skin under her shirt again, and he wished more than anything he hadn’t told her to put it back on.

He dropped a hand to her hip, then carried on down the smooth, bare skin of her thigh until he reached the back of her knee. She whimpered as he hiked it up to rest against his waist and her head fell back against the tree as the pressure he was applying between her legs hit a new spot.

“Oh my god, Jay - fuck, that feels so good,” she was practically panting, eyes squeezed shut and her grip digging into his shoulders to hold herself upright.

JJ knew he was asking for trouble with this, there was no way they could risk taking it as far as they both clearly wanted to, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop when she was begging him not to.

“Please don’t stop, JJ, please,” she pleaded breathlessly against his mouth, but to be honest she was doing most of the work, he was just along for the ride. Nevertheless, he responded by kissing her deeper, his grip on her solid and unfaltering, until…

“JJ! Kie!” John B’s voice called from down the beach, and JJ all but dropped her on her ass.

“Shit,” he mumbled under his breath, arm swooping to catch her as her feet hit the ground.

“What do we do? What do we say?” he asked in a harsh whisper.

“Just - just say we got lost?” Kie suggested, still breathless and bracing herself against the tree, with an enthusiastic nod of her head.

“Lost?” he repeated, “A half mile along the beach in a straight line?!” He whisper-shouted in response.

“Hey, don’t take it out on me!” she replied, also in a shouted whisper. “I was ready to leave five whole minutes ago, until you pulled me back,”

“Yeah, for the best 5 minutes of your life,” he countered and Kie scoffed. “You’re welcome, by the way,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear.

Kie shot him an irritated glare before responding in an even lower tone as John B got closer.

“Well, since you’re clearly a man of so many talents, why don’t you think of an excuse for what we’re doing out here on our own?”

“JJ! Kie! Please tell me you guys are alive?” John B’s voice came again, and JJ cast his gaze upwards for a second, muttering curses under his breath, until he spotted something. His eyes dropped back to meet Kie’s with a grin.

“What?” she mouthed to him with a shrug, too scared to use actual words in case John B rumbled them.

JJ began scaling the tree they’d been sitting under, and when Kie looked up, she saw it too.

Mangos.

JJ began plucking them from the branches and tossing them down one at a time to Kie.

“Over here, bro!” JJ called out to John B, and a minute or so later he appeared.

“Where the hell have you guys been?” he asked, as JJ clambered back down from the tree.

He turned to Kie, throwing his arms up. “Kie, you left ages ago.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find dumbass here,” she explained, lazily throwing an arm in JJ’s direction, who was currently too busy trying to balance an obscene amount of mangos in his arms to acknowledge the insult.

“Then on the way back we saw the tree, so we thought we’d just collect some fruit for everyone.”

John B looked at her sceptically.

“Look, John B, it’s no big deal. We’re fine. Let’s just get these back to camp,” she said, gesturing to the remaining mangos scattered across the grassy embankment.

“Sure, okay. Whatever,” John B replied, holding his hands up in defeat before crouching down to collect the fruit.

The three of them made their way back to camp in comfortable conversation, and were greeted by a lot of sarcastic “oh, so they are alive” (Sarah) and “we thought you guys had decided just to swim back to the mainland” (Pope) comments directed at their unexplained absence from the group. They soon became distracted once they noticed the fruit, and before long their escapade was forgotten by the rest of the group and no one questioned it further.

As they all sat round the fire later that night having dinner (fish cooked on a stick over the fire, the usual), Kie and JJ sat together like always, only now they seemed hyper aware of each other. Everytime their knees brushed, or their shoulders bumped, they couldn’t help but steal a glance at each other.

Once everyone had settled under the make-shift shelter at the end of the night, they lay in silence, waiting for the rest to fall asleep before JJ rolled over and wrapped an arm around Kie’s waist, pulling her flush against him and burying his face in her neck.