#humor in 2022 everyone

[enbleu-19]

the FUNNIEST thing is when someone (more specifically Mom) asks me a question beginning with “do you remember …” or “do you think …” i cut her off and say “no”

[fantasymusicwarrior]

How’s everyone doing after getting episode three’d? ❤️

[yeommijeong]

However, Michael Jordan once said, “Talent wins games, but teamwork wins championships.” I bet he stayed up all night finding that quote.

Shin Ha Kyun as Steve Episode 7, Unicorn (2022)

[1uvtae]

mistaken very much | jeon jungkook

★word count: 7.4k words!!

★genre: nothing but university romance fluff and very unfunny crack because i have the worst humor,,,look, there's this tennis classmate, and maybe....you've made a pretty big mistake by staring at his butt....? and somehow this turns into a 'crush' on the jeon jungkook that you have never even seen.

★summary/snippet: you don't think staring at his butt cuts straight to the conclusion that you, y/n y/l/n, has a crush on him....but whatever. it's not like you actually have a crush on him...right?

★kae chit chats: forget about motorcycle boy, let's invite tennis boy into the family!!!! this was meant to be posted on v day 2022 but i kind of messed up my sleep schedule and just completely gave up on finishing this lol...,,,nothing but a fluff fic :P and I picked this back up in 2024 lol

do you want to give me some feedback? request something fun? chit chat with me?!

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︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the feeling of being mistaken by someone is so fucking annoying. 

especially when you have probably just been mistaken as a pervert…!

the boy in your tennis class (not to mention, very handsome.) was just squatting in front of you, playing with the school campus cat that you have also been taking care of for months. you were also heading to feed the cat when you had already found him there, squatting down, caressing the cat. he was wearing a white button-up and baggy ripped jeans, but you can’t help but notice that….half of his shirt wasn’t tucked in? and it just looks like it’s dangling out like seaweed…? 

after staring at the white fabric for a few seconds, you look down at the bag of cat food, before putting it in your pocket, planning to feed the cat after he leaves. but when you lifted your head back up, your eyes met with the boy, there were no emotions in his eyes but you felt a hint of shyness rush to your head, and the idea that you were going to feed the cat floated away from your head as you immediately rushed back to your dorm. 

nayeon listened patiently and childish complaint that there was also someone looking after your cat, and how he mistook that you were staring at his ass for a good few seconds, before commenting: “don’t you realize that…he might think you were there to stare at him…..and how you ran away when he saw you…that’s quite suspicious…?”

you freeze. “holy shit.” 

nayeon giggled as she continued. “also last tennis session! you were zoning off at the back of his head, so when he turned, he gave you this weird look.” 

“no freaking way. i didn’t notice that.”

“it was a funny look, not going to lie.”

“help, what if he actually thinks i have a crush on him cause i keep staring at him?!” you try to contain the racing thoughts, and contemplate if you should’ve just kept your eyes pierced on the ground and not on his ass, or the back of his head.

“i mean he’s pretty good-looking, it won’t be weird to have a crush on him.”

you roll your eyes at her comment. “i don’t get it, it doesn’t mean everyone has to have a crush on him just because he’s good-looking, nayeon.”

it was the next tennis lesson, and to avoid more unnecessary interactions, you avoided all eye contact with anyone, but that didn’t stop nayeon from squealing and reporting every small movement from the boy. “he’s facing your direction!” “oh my gosh he’s right behind you!” your hands start to clam up with sweat with every small comment from nayeon. “stop looking at him, gosh.” it was after the lesson that you realized how even more suspicious you looked trying to avoid any eye contact and how often nayeon reported his movements in small mutters and whispers, and how you most definitely looked shy enough for anyone to mistake that you like the ‘good-looking tennis classmate’.

the teacher checks names off the clipboard as she reads two names at once to put their tennis equipment away. “nayeon, y/n.” she looks up at the two of you and back to the heavy boxes of tennis rackets. “the boy in the back, the tall one, help them with the boxes, please.” you and nayeon turn your head back in sync, to see the familiar boy nod and walk towards the both of you. you let out a sigh as nayeon excitedly squishes your arm, another strike. 

is this perhaps….hopelessness? 

yup, not only the boy, but everyone in your tennis class probably thinks that you have this awfully obvious and big crush on this person who you don’t even know the name of.

he cuts in front of you two, the three of you in complete silence. you and nayeon follow him like two cautious cats. he stops at the heavy boxes, and you two walk up to help him, but before you know it, he has already picked up the boxes with one hand, the other hand reaching into his pocket to answer the buzzing phone. what the fuck. you two shared a glance in disbelief, not going to lie, that was very, very, attractive. “damn. pretty tough.” you mutter under your breath and feel the two people from either side look at you immediately, his hand still holding the buzzing phone and nayeon giving you a concerned glance. 

the way back to the dorm was filled with your quietness and nayeon’s laugh. “he probably used to think you were just someone who had a crush on him, but now he thinks you are a literal weirdo who has a crush on him.” you run your hands through your hair in annoyance, how did the sentence even slip through your mouth? looks like you won’t be getting sleep tonight. and you sure didn’t, you kept rolling and shuffling in your bed to think of a tactic to this misunderstanding that you and the tennis boy had going on, and with your smart and very intelligent little brain, you figured out a plan.

“to not make him think that i have a huge fucking crush on him, i am going to pretend i have a crush on somebody else.” you take a sip of your coffee as nayeon nods. “hmm…who else is there to ‘like’?” you think hard before coming to the conclusion that there is no one in your tennis class that is worth ‘liking’. nayeon helps you to think for a good minute: “min yoongi from music…?” you shiver at the thought of your cold and savage music seatmate. “if you really want me to die, just say that.” nayeon chuckles at your comment before going back into the deep search for a suitable ‘crush’ for you. “i heard the tennis dude is in geography.” 

“geo!” another friend of yours popped into the conversation. “they have so many hot guys there!” 

you felt a rush of excitement: “recommend me some!”

“what’s your type?” 

“maybe… a pretty quiet one, maybe shy even? not that popular so no one will care if i like him, you know?”

nayeon shakes her head. “you can’t expect someone to be good-looking and not popular, y/n.”

“i think jeon jungkook.” your other friend suggested. “he’s quiet but literally more than half the school likes him, but that won’t be as weird if you also ‘like’ him, cause everyone likes him.” 

nayeon nods in agreement. “never seen him in my life, but i swear i hear his name mentioned on campus wayyy too often.”

hm. interesting.

the next week came by fast, before class you made your way to the disposal machine and picked up a can of coke, putting it in your backpack before heading to tennis class.

it was free time when you made your way to where the tennis boy was, he was practicing with the wall, he spared you a glance as you walked towards him, and back to practicing with the wall. you take a big breath as you walk towards him, the coke still in your backpack, expecting that when he drops the ball, you are going to pick it up and hand it to him, making it a perfect opportunity to start the ‘conversation’. you lean against the fence, waiting for him to drop the ball. 

not even once has he dropped the ball in the 10 minutes you have been standing here. you feel your legs start to cramp up. finally, he decided to rest for a good while, catching the ball with his right hand as it bounced off the wall, he lazily walked to his bag. you immediately rush over with the can in your hand. he looked at the can in your hands, then backed up to you. you couldn’t help but take in his facial features. it was the middle of the day, and the sun was high up in the sky, warming everybody up, and it seemed to warm your cheeks up when you made simple eye contact with the boy. 

he raised an eyebrow at you as if he was asking a rude and straight ‘what are you doing?’ with his facial expressions. you felt a small taste of regret that second, thinking that this boy definitely thinks you have an obsessed crush on him now, so the only thing you can do now is hope that the next few things you are going to say work out. 

“i bought coke for you.” you mumble as he takes a big sip from his bottle of water. “i don’t need that.” he has a straight face and everything. you take another deep breath as you figure out what you are going to say next. maybe this can be a little fun.

“are you free right now? i have something i want to say…” you tried to act as natural as you could. “i'm gonna practice.” he replied coldly before taking his equipment back to the court, your hand found his arm quickly, then released it in a second when he stopped in his tracks. “it’s just a few sentences.” you used a pleading tone, hoping this would convince him that you were going to ‘confess your crush’ to him. he patiently stopped and looked at you. you start your act, stuttering and acting shy, everything you have seen in romance confessing scenes in films. “well. i’ve noticed you for a long time…” you take the can of coke to hide your face as if you were a blushing mess. “i don’t know if you noticed that…” the ‘obviously you have a crush on me’ expression never left his face. “haven’t noticed.” 

you suppress an eye roll. “all i wanted to say was, i knew you’re in geography…i just wanted to ask if you know a jeon jungkook, i’ve had a crush on him for pretty long, can you help me to get his number?” you definitely want to give yourself a pat on the back, a round of applause even. you felt proud of yourself, proud that this ‘plot twist’ you have created for him, will deflate his ego and convince him that you never had your schoolgirl crush on him, but on this jeon jungkook that you have never met.

the tennis boy didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the comment, still calm as ever. “i don’t know him.”

it's even better that you don’t know him. you thought. all you wanted to know was to share the signal that you have a crush on someone who is not him., you didn’t even care to want jeon jungkook’s number, it was all an act to ‘spread the message’, you pretended to be extremely upset that he did not know this crush of yours, whining an ‘awe~’ and nodding slowly, “okay then…”, leaving him to walk away without sparing a glance at you.

you don’t know what’s wrong with you now. 

before you and this tennis boy had this thing going on, you never seemed to be seeing him around campus. but now after the last interaction, you seemed to be seeing the person everywhere. seeing him in the supermarket, seeing him in the cafeteria, seeing him in the library, seeing him between classes. 

and you know what’s more ironic? it’s always when you’re also with nayeon. you know nayeon’s dramatic acts are to notify you that ‘the boy that thinks you like him’ is over there, but from someone who doesn’t know this situation, it looks like she’s trying to tell you ‘there’s-the-boy-that-you-have-a-huge-mother-fucking-crush-on’. 

and the weird thing is, although you had explained that you like jeon jungkook, he seemed to still have the attitude that you are obsessed with him. especially when you bump into him and are forced to mutter a ‘hi’ or ‘hey’. all he would do was a gentle hum in response, or just nod. and you made a keynote to yourself to never say hello to him ever again. 

the main point was when you and nayeon saw him in a convenience store. you two quickly made your way out as soon as he and his friends walked in. but nayeon saw somebody she knew and immediately started chatting along as the social butterfly she was. you watched from your side-eye as he and his friend walked out of the door.

“isn’t the girl in the beige crew neck your little fangirl?” an unfamiliar voice came from the side, from a boy with soft blonde hair, walking next to the tennis boy. 

and then you hear it.

you hear a “mhm” of confirmation from the tennis boy. you felt a rush of anger run to your head as you retained yourself to scream at them. and then you watch the blonde boy spot you and nayeon, awkwardly, he turns away quickly and walks off with the other. but the other did not awkwardly leave, turning back to glance at you without shame. and that boiled your blood even more.

on the road back all you did was scream and mutter some curse words dedicated to the unshameful tennis boy. 

“don’t you think he might think that the whole jeon jungkook thing was an excuse you used to get closer to him?” nayeon spoke slowly after you had expressed all your anger. and you feel your mind pause. 

yup, it sure is hopelessness now if it wasn’t already hopelessness before.

the second morning. you woke up early and the first thing you did was to check on the cat, but you were extremely cautious. you did not want to bump into you-know-who, so you woke up extremely early so you could avoid seeing him. but after squatting down for just a few minutes. the expected happened. there he was, but this time wearing a black silk button-up, the buttons halfway up and you couldn’t help but take a few seconds to stare at him. but it’s okay because you were here first, so that makes you the person he should be waiting to finish with the cat. 

he stopped in his tracks when he saw you, standing in his spot, waiting for you to leave. 

‘do you get it? do you get it!’ you want to scream this at him. ‘this scene seems familiar! because you were in his spot the other day! you were just simply waiting! you don’t have a crush on him!’ you want to shout this all, but you were busy with the cat.

but weirdly today, the cat doesn’t seem to like you. it didn’t even take a single bite from the tuna stick you were feeding it, and it avoided your pats and touch today. 

well..that’s not a very good sign, is it?

“it doesn’t like being touched.” he walked closer, “it might scratch you.” you knit your brows at his speech, you know that. you were here taking care of the cat earlier than this tennis boy…yet he’s giving instructions on how to take care of the cat??

 “i know this cat.” you explain. “it likes me a lot.”

you pause when you watch the cat move away from your touch after your sentence, the cat avoids your touch as it slowly trots over to nudge his leg instead. he squats down and caresses the cat gently, then lifting his head to look at you with a glance, a look that made your blood boil. the competitiveness in you starts burning up like fire, you wave at the white cat, gesturing for it to come back to you. “lulu, over here.” 

the cat doesn't budge, instead, it gives you a lazy side-eye look and back to enjoy the boy's company. is this perhaps, favoritism?! 

“don’t randomly give it names.” he speaks slowly and quietly behind you. “what’s your problem?” you snap back with a tone that does not sound very friendly, and he stays silent as you stomp away. “i’m leaving, lulu!” you yell back one more time, and the cat: still under his touch, eyes closed, relaxed and unbothered. 

okay then…this was your first time fully understanding the meaning and the understanding of pretty privilege. 

“gosh, i was so hurt by that cat.” you complain back in your dorm. “it isn’t supposed to be like this! normally if you give it food, it will love you…but today it was completely under that tennis boy’s control. this is rigged.” nayeon pats the sheet mask she had on her face. “you saw him again this morning?” you sigh. “yeah, unlucky isn’t it?” 

“he probably also thinks he’s pretty unlucky too.” 

“if i knew he was gonna be there, i wouldn’t wake up so early to avoid him.”

“i was thinking,” nayeon starts again with the tone that you do not like very much, knowing this would be another thing to worry about tonight. “what if he thinks you were there just to create this ‘oops i did not know you were going to be here’ scene? like you were waiting for him to come and see the cat too to create this awkward meeting.” nayeon’s guesses always feel like lightning that struck straight into your soul. “and you said the cat didn’t really seem to like you, doesn’t that look like as if you aren’t close with the cat, as if you were there for another reason…? 

that night was one of the sleepless nights filled with overthinking and worry. 

you were heading over to the cafeteria the second day with a friend. in the crowded and loud dining hall, you hear a loud shout of ‘jungkook!’ from one side to the other. hearing the familiar yet unfamiliar name, you turn your head back in curiosity, but instead, meeting eyes with the tennis boy. 

he was sitting at a table with 4 other boys, including the one blonde boy you saw last time when they were walking out of the convenience store. you tap your friend’s shoulder. “hey, turn your head to the big table with the 5 guys, is jeon jungkook in there? don’t make it obvious, please.”

you watch her basically throw her head back aggressively for what seems like 2 minutes, then turn back and nod. “yeah, isn’t he fine?” “holy shit, can you be more obvious?!” but hearing that your ‘crush’ is also on that table, you slowly turn your head once more and scan the boys, then realizing that out of all the boys, the tennis boy is still the most attractive one for you. although you don’t know which one is jeon jungkook, none out of the 4 boys seem to be your type. 

your shoulders drop a little without realizing, disappointed in your ‘crush’. in fact, will the tennis boy think you have bad taste? 

wait, why would you even care about him in the first place…right…?

the second week of tennis class, also your second streak of buying a can of coke for him. but this time, he doesn’t seem as cold and weird as last time. when he saw that you were waiting for him by the side, he dropped his equipment and walked slowly to you. “what?” you feel yourself swallow out of nervousness. “i saw you guys eating lunch last friday.” his brows knit slightly. “who?” 

“jeon jungkook.” you reply quickly as if the name burns your tongue. “you said you didn’t know him last week…” he used an unspeakable emotion to reply. “i think you have the wrong person.” you were confused at the comment, but continued once more. “just say if you know him or not.”

“it doesn’t matter if i know him or not.” he licks his lips and runs his hands through his dark brown hair, maintaining eye contact with you and you feel you slowly lose your breath at the intense eye contact. you clear your throat and hand the can of coke to him, before taking a plastic bag containing some snacks. “the coke is for you, and can you hand these snacks to him?” before he can refuse it, you add another sentence. “if he doesn’t want them, take them for yourself, don't return it back to me, i would feel  very embarrassed if you did.” 

he stayed silent for a few seconds, looking at the items in your two hands, then lifting his left hand to take both the cans of coke and the plastic bag. you let out a long breath. you hope this is obvious enough that you, y/n y/l/n, do not have a crush on him. or any liking. nothing. 

you relax back into your chair, taking in your cup noodles as you listen to the gossip and events that happened today. there seems to be a geography boys vs gym boys basketball game that went on this afternoon, which turned out to be extremely intense and entertaining to watch. your ears perked up at the mention of geo boys. 

you swallow your bite. “so who won?”

“duh, of course gym, they’re the professionals. how embarrassing would it be for them if they lost?!” your roommate answered, “geo lost because two of the best players got hurt throughout the last half of the game.” the thought of the tennis boy ran into your head, and you could not help but wonder if he got hurt too. 

“oh yeah, the jeon jungkook you have a ‘crush’ on also got hurt. think he tripped and hurt his knee or something.” she continues. you nodded before turning to nayeon to ask;“what about the tennis dude? did he play today?” 

“he played too, he was so good, i think i saw him also get hurt.” nayeon lets out a nosey ‘aww’. “you care about him quite much y/n….” you hesitate for a long time, putting yourself into deep thought. “nayeon…this is weird but, do you think that you somehow programmed my brain to take an attraction to him. because i don’t know why i’ve been thinking about and meeting him so much.” 

nayeon knits her brows. “just say if you like him or not…anyways, there’s another game tomorrow, wanna go watch?” 

you don’t know how you ended up here.

you thought you and nayeon were already early, but the court was still jammed with people. you tried your hardest to squeeze into the crowd, once you had finally worked your way to the front, your eyes caught him. 

he stood in the corner, talking to his teammates, the red basketball jersey lazily overlaying a white tee, he ran his hand through his hair, and your eyes could not move away from him. a shout from a girl next to your side entered your ear. “jungkook looks so good?!” but you didn't have the attention for jeon jungkook, your eyes and mind was completely taken away by him instead. 

the basketball game started, your eyes followed him as he took a sip from his water bottle, and high-fived his teammates before entering. a scream came from the two girls next to you. “go geo!!!” the scream caught his attention, causing him to turn towards your direction, spotting you standing next to the two girls. you make a good second of eye contact as you look away and cheer for jungkook instead. 

after giving jeon jungkook a good shout, you turn back to him, but he is still looking at you. you did not know what to do, avoiding eye contact, you scanned the entire court with your eyes but just, not looking at him. he moved and looked away to get ready with his teammates, and you felt obligated to stare back at him. you watch him as he looks away, then lowers his head to suppress a small smirk. 

and that smirk did a lot to you, you could not help but pinch nayeon’s arm. 

the sharp whistle brought you back to life, the game has started. you did not understand basketball and didn't watch games in your spare time. so the entire time, you just kept your glance on the tennis boy. 

and then you spot how his leg definitely got slightly injured during the last race, you could tell that his leg was a little uncomfortable when he was moving intensely. 

but that leg did not stop him from aiming and playing perfectly, when he ran past the crowd, it felt like a swoosh of fresh wind. midgame, the ball has gone out of court. it rolls towards you and you watch as he comes jogging to pick the ball up, then accidentally stepping on your shoes. it was a light step but he immediately looked up at you and apologized. you frown playfully and he moves closer to you. “step on me and then we can be fair.” you bite your bottom lip to suppress a dumb grin, shaking your head and gesturing him to go back into the game. 

you look to your right and see the group of girls rolling their eyes at you.  …arent they obsessed with that jeon jungkook or something…?

without a doubt, geo had won the game. you watched the large crowd of girls rush to hand the players drinks and ask for their numbers. you dragged nayeon away from the crazy amount of students that had created a crowd circling the team of boys. and you two make your way towards the convenience store on the other side of the road. 

you pause in front of the drink aisles, struggling badly to pick a drink. just as you were deciding, a hand reached out from behind you to grab two bottles of coke. “oh, sorry-” you turn your head to be faced with the familiar tennis boy. he walked slyly to the counter, paid for the drinks and handed one of the bottles to you. “sorry for stepping on you during the game.” you shake your head, mumbling that it was fine and takes the bottle with both hands carefully as if you were the one who did something wrong. 

he pauses for a second and grabs the bottle back from you before opening the bottle cap for you naturally in a swift motion. “did you not go and offer your little crush a drink?” he said with a teasing tone. you answer convincingly: “there were too many people standing around, i couldn’t squeeze in.

”oh.” he cocks an eyebrow as he slowly takes his phone out of his pocket. “i was talking to jungkook, telling him that a girl in my tennis class is interested in him, and he agreed to…give you his number.” you freeze instantly. “you want it?” he waves his phone at you. 

this is…a little awkward. to be extremely honest, you don’t want his number, but seeing his bright glassy eyes staring at you, it is a little hard to refuse to take the number. you nod slowly as you bring out your phone, and enter the number into your contacts.

on the way back to your dorm, your finger trembled to type something into the chat, all you managed to enter the chatbox was a subtle and small smiley face. 

quite awkward considering the fact that you don’t even know what this jeon jungkook looks like.. 

he replied fast, with just a casual:

‘hey’

you told him that he played really well during the game. 

jungkook thanked you and said that he had received the bag of snacks. 

well, this is a great start. but you can't help but think about what if this jeon jungkook takes an interest in you. 

when you don’t even know who he is in the first place.

the second week of tennis class, you watch the tennis boy walk onto the court with a box of gourmand chocolates. nayeon nudges you when she sees him walk towards you, and stop just in front of you. 

he looked especially calm: “he asked me to hand you this.” you reach your hand out take the pink box of chocolates and thank him with a mumble.

after class, jungkook texted you to ask if you had received the gift, and you two had some small talk. conversations about how your classes went and about his day distracted you, almost bumping into a tree. nayeon laughs as she drags you to the side before that disaster, “might as well go for this jeon jungkook if he’s brightening your day so much, y/n.” 

you lock your phone before linking arms with nayeon. you’ve never realised how often you and this jeon jungkook got along just simply by texting. this situation seems to be a little flirty since he knows that you “like” him. 

“i don’t even know him!! this was just a misunderstanding, there’s no way will i go for him.” nayeon nods her head. “of course i know it’s a misunderstanding, but it seems like it is a good misunderstanding- wait, you’re not telling me that you actually like that tennis guy…right?” 

you stop in your tracks, not saying a word. nayeon cleared the silence: “if you reckon you like the other guy, let jeon jungkook know that this was all a misunderstanding.”

 “that's exactly what i wanted to do, see?” you unlock and show her the texts. “i asked him if he wanted to go out for boba, so i could explain this to him in person, but he rejected and said he has training.” 

he rejected your offer that day, and the day after. 

neyeon jumps up when you read the “sorry, i also can’t do today.” text out: “what the heck!!!! there’s no way he’s that busy?? oh my gosh- he’s a fuckboy!! he’s a literal f-boy that can’t make enough time for all his girls-” 

excellent idea, nayeon. 

you sigh and nayeon notices how your shoulders dropped slightly.

“y/n, how about you tell the tennis guy then, cause you also have some misunderstandings with him, clear the air with him, and he can let jeon jungkook know since he obviously doesn’t have time for you”

you walk into the dining hall, only searching for the silhouette of one specific person. and there he is, sitting alone, enjoying a burger. you walk to the seat across from him, “hey.” the pair of deer eyes lands on you, and he raises an eyebrow. “what?” 

you move at the speed of a snail, taking a seat in front of him: “i have things to tell you.” 

the tennis boy puts down his meal, and slowly squeezes a sentence out his mouth. “then tell me.”

“i was talking about you because you didn’t tuck in your shirt properly the other day.”

“........i wore it like that on purpose.”

“ i was feeding that cat ages ago, like, wayyyy before you did.”

he brought the burger to his mouth, took another bite: “yup. got it.”

“okay then,” you took a deep breath, “i don’t like jeon jungkook, it was all because you misunderstood me, and thought i had a crush on you- which i do not!” you hear a soft chuckle leave his mouth. dude? “what are you laughing about.”

he swallows his bite. “nothing, you go on.”

“i’m wondering if you can go explain this to jeon jungkook….for me?” 

he looks up at you once again. “why should i go explain this to him? you should go yourself.” gosh, he is insufferable. “i really would love to! but i’ve asked to see him multiple times, but he says he is busy every single time!” 

another light chuckle. 

“don’t even laugh.” you feel humiliated, what is the matter? “i’m being deadly serious, can you literally take me seriously?” 

“do you know why you can never seem to ask him out?” the boy stares into your eyes with a hinting glance that you don’t specifically like.

you’re so confused, “no, i don’t know. but that’s literally not the point.”

“well, here’s the point.” he sips his coke and swiftly reaches into his backpack to take out his id, handing it to you. you take the id into your hands and stare at it for a while. “huh?” 

then is hits you, you don’t even know this guy's name. your eyes glance over the id, from the photo to his name..back to his id. his warm dark brown hair looking soft, his doe eyes are soft and very, very pretty. a mole at the tip of his nose, and one very visible mole perfectly under his pouty lips. did you mention he has a perfect smile? 

you almost get sucked into the photo when you realise something. huh?

you unwillingly unglue your eyes from the id and place them onto the face that is currently in front of you. he has the same smile from the id on his face right now. “what does your id mean?” he runs a hand through his perfect locks, “you still don’t know my name?”

something in you clicked. “why are you also named jeon jungkook??” this time, he lets out an even bigger laugh. “i’m the jeon jungkook.” you feel slightly sick. “.....what.”

“who did you even think jeon jungkook was then?”

“i don’t know??? i told you i’m just pretending to like this jeon jungkook person…”

jungkook raises an eyebrow, “you’re not doing much background check before pretending to like them, huh?”

his eyes still fixed on you, now with a teasing tone:” actually you misunderstood in the first place, i never thought you even had a crush on me, until you came up to me and told me that you like this jeon jungkook guy. i was utterly confused, like i thought you were using some creative way to confess to me, get my attention or something.” 

“oh my gosh i did not!” you feel so much embarrassment for yourself, even second-hand embarrassment at this point. jungkook continued: “and then i thought maybe you liked one of my friends, but just got the name wrong. but every single time when i bumped into you, you always seemed to be looking at me first, right?” 

all the blood rushed from your body to your face, and you felt your cheeks flush up. “did not!!!” 

“sure did, doll.” 

“no! see! like it’s all a misunderstanding! you have mistaken me for liking you. it’s not that deep.” you realise you’re extremely loud, causing you to lower your voice to a more softer tone.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” you huff in disagreement, then you realised that you’re not only here to get these words straight but to also admit that you do like him a tad bit….not deny it completely! 

“then who’s number did you give me?”

“mine.”

“okay, so you’ve been playing me” 

“hm?”

“you knew i must’ve gotten something muddled up, but you still text me every day? you’re still giving me snacks? you’re still flirting with me?”

“that’s me being polite,” he mumbled under his breath.

“okay so you do this with everyone.”

“i don’t normally take stuff from other people, or give my number or whatever?”

“then why me?”

“since you’re the one with the biggest crush on me, so i had to be quite courteous.” 

“no. shut up.”

you can’t get yourself to be convinced that you don’t like him, just like how you couldn’t convince yourself that he doesn’t think you had a fat schoolgirl crush on him.

you don’t know what jeon jungkook wants from you! 

after that conversation, it’s like he’s even more convinced that you are in love with him. every time you enter the lunch hall, he spots you instantly, raises an eyebrow gesturing for you to sit next to the empty seat next to him. (as if saying: “here’s your chance to sit next to me, babe.”) when you ran into him in the campus library, he would knit his brows and playfully ask something like “how did you know i was going to be here?”

as if you’re tracking his location or something!!

the next basketball game came very soon. the day of the basketball game you had received a text from him giving you the time of the game and what court it was going to be at bright and early. as if he was certain you were going to go, douche. 

well…that afternoon you showed up with a baseball cap, trying to hide in the crowd. there were way more people this time, how is that even possible? when you got to lay your eyes on him, he was on his phone in the corner, while his teammates were warming up. a little delusional thought popped up in your head. he’s probably sending you a text message…? a notification sound ruined your thought. you feel the corners of your mouth slowly raise as you pulled out your phone from the butt pocket of your jeans.

“Hey! It’s Duolingo.

Make your screen time count. Take a quick Japanese lesson.”

what. you feel a little irritated as you lock your screen and before aggressively shoving your phone back into your pocket, you raise your head to search for jungkook when you meet eyes with him. you didn’t even have to search for him, he was already eyeing you.  his eyes teasingly dart from you to your phone in your hand. dude. 

you were fantasizing about yourself receiving a “where are you” text so you can hit him with a simple and petty  “i’m not coming”!!!!

he went straight into warming up after that short exchanging looks with you, one shot and the crowd of girls starts cheering like there’s no tomorrow. try hard. attention seeker. show off. you think to yourself when you shoot him a dirty glance from the crowd. it’s like he catches that look instantly, jungkook hands the ball to his teammates, and goes back to sitting on the bench in silence. you smile to yourself.

the game finishes and you drag nayeon to sprint out of the court before the herd of people makes it extra difficult. this time, another notification.

jung fking kook : group dinner, u and ur friend wanna come?

you stop in your tracks and text back: nah, i dont even know your friends.

text sent. you and nayeon start walking back when footsteps of someone running up from behind distract you. a large hand grabs your arm and turns you around in a swift motion. 

there he stood, still slightly glowy after the intense game. his eyes looked extra soft and bright under the road light. “let’s go together?” 

how can you ever reject him?

you, nayeon and jungkook went to a hot pot eatery nearby, and you wondered the entire way there if would be so darn awkward when you saw his friends. but thank god, they were way too energetic, to the point they almost didn’t even see you three walk in. jungkook insisted on introducing you to his friends, making sure each and one of his friends greeted you. you leaned closer to him and muttered “how do you know my name?” he whispered back. “not everyone is like you y/n.”

that’s when you figured, maybe he did not tell his friends about the ridiculous things you’ve said and done, since all of them greeted you and nayeon with large smiles. that calmed you down a whole lot. except the blonde boy, park jimin. he seemed like he wanted to jokingly say something, but swallowed his words when jungkook gave him a good glance. 

after dinner, nayeon made some excuses and said she had to leave early while shooting you many knowing looks and childish eyebrow raises. you stand outside of the restaurant while the boys pay the check. this night has never felt so calm on your skin before. you wanted to say bye to jungkook before leaving. but the second the boys came out of the restaurant, the same warm hand placed itself on your arm. “i’ll walk you back.” 

okay. it’s only like 5 minutes but whatever.

there were more people than you expected on the road. usually, you will not pay any attention to the people passing by but maybe because you were walking with jungkook tonight, it seemed like every goddamn couple in the world was next to you two. and everyone recognised jeon jungkook. of course, they did.

he grabbed your hand gently and decided to walk into a dark alleyway. you’ve never realised how nice his hands felt wrapped around your own. in the darkness, you can hear his faint breathing next to you. “lulu used to hunt for mice here.” he broke the comfortable silence. 

you never knew he started addressing her as lulu too. 

“and she had a lover that lived in one of these houses, they used to hang out here,” you added.

“y/n, how do you even know that?”

“i told you i was feeding lulu way before you.” you comment, this is totally a competition now.

you hear him lightly laugh in the darkness. 

the 5-minute walk took at least double the time to get there, some streetlights outside your dorm are old and broken, causing a dim-lit atmosphere. you spot a couple on the side of the street making out. if you walked even closer, you could probably even hear the sickening sounds. jungkook looked extra calm as if he could not hear anything, he walked you to the door and spoke. “you’re here.”

you don’t know what to reply to that. 

“right. i’m home.”

and he turned and walked away.

???

“that’s it?”

“that’s fucking it?:”

nayeon just opened a bag of barbeque chips, getting ready to hear about everything that went down, preparing to be surprised. she sighed to herself. she didn’t even get to get comfortable on your bed!

“he didn’t say anything? you two didn’t even hug?”

you thought to yourself before answering, “we talked about lulu. and that's it.”

“oh my days.” nayeon shakes her head in disapproval “he introduced you to his friends, what is in that little head of his?!” 

“i genuinely don’t know.” you feel a twinge of sadness growing in your chest, “maybe we overanalyzed this.” 

if this is what it feels like to like somebody, you’d rather stay single for the rest of your life. 

you decided to have a good, relaxing shower to get your mind off things. when getting into your bed, you receive a text. 

jung fking kook: breakfast tmrw?

you did not feel like replying, leaving the message read. 

jung fking kook: or lunch? both?

you felt so aggravated, your fingers moving so fast to type your thoughts out without thinking about what you wanted to say.

y/n: you’re so bloody confusing, are you currently demonstrating to me how a guy acts when they know a girl likes them or are you showing me what a guy does when they actually like someone? because this is getting so damn tiring for me, jungkook.

no emojis. you’re letting him know this is bloody serious. 

the grey typing icon pops up from the bottom of the screen, then disappears. 

audio message.

you almost jump off your bed to grab your earphones. popping the earbuds into your ears, you hear the familiar voice. before the voice could even warm your heart up, it felt like a cold splash of water in your face instead.

“hey, look im so sorry, i just- i just don’t know how to tell you this.” 

rejection tastes great, doesn’t it!

another audio message followed up. you disconnected your earphones, you do not have time for this rejection anymore.

jung fking kook: listen to it.

y/n: i’m tired. goodnight.

after typing the “good night” message out, you felt your curiosity eating you up. you pop an earbud into your ear, and press play.

“you’re correct, this is exactly what i’m doing. what a guy does when they genuinely like somebody.” you gasp and before you could even reply, an incoming call from jungkook comes in. 

“hi.”

“hi.”

“did you open it?”

you didn’t know how to respond. you panicked. are you going to say yeah i heard you just say you like me or are you going to play dumb like no bro what did u say haha

“yeah.”

“i knew it.”

“okay jungkook.”

“i’m downstairs.”

“you’re what?!”

“yeah. come down.”

jeon jungkook is going to be the death of you. (end)

here is my masterlist if you want to enjoy some more of my writing!

and until next time, kae.

[leclsrc]

you know it ✴︎ cl16

genre: porn WITH plot (for once?! everyone cheered), humor, bit of fluff... oh inaccurate depictions of the 2022 season sorry

word count: 7k

Charles is a bit disappointed the pretty girl he harbors a crush on doesn’t have him listed as a Formula 1 crush. He is a lot disappointed that you two can’t fuck.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... degradation, praise, charles is a bit switchy here lol, penetrative sex, a bit of ass play sorry...., oral (m receiving), semi public sex, yeah

title from this. i love u guys im so sleepy

Joris insists there’s some big present waiting for Charles in his car, to celebrate the middle of the season that has, and will no doubt continue to stretch into a period of conflict and strategy woes. He yanks off the beanie sitting on his head, listens to small talk drifting between Joris and Carlos as they all walk toward their cars to alleviate the bubble of nerves in the low of his stomach. 

Sure enough, there’s an unassuming box lying on the driver’s seat. Joris slides into the passenger seat after Carlos drives away with his girlfriend, his grin shit-eating and mischievous. The door is half open when Charles takes the box to inspect it. White, with the Ferrari logo printed neatly on the centre (very classy touch), the sides are signed by different members of his team. He scratches through the seal and pulls the flap open.

He’s been given a quasi-official Ferrari box of condoms.

Thirty-six condoms, at that, small squares neatly lined up next to each other. Talk about a welcoming present. Not a camera, not racing memorabilia, not a new pair of shoes. Just condoms. Thirty-six of them.

“A mid-season pick-me-up,” presses his friend, giddily. The shorter male lounges comfortably on the seat, a blissful look of pride on his face. Laughing with exasperation, Charles wedges the box shut and tosses it carelessly into the backseat, preparing to drive. This isn’t his first rodeo with weird gifts—he’s half-sure he got adoption papers from an especially excited fan once before.

“You are such an asshole.”

“It’s also a congratulations on winning literally every race so far present,” Joris adds. It’s hyperbole but has a ring of truth to it. As the season closes, Charles’ chances of holding up the trophy this year increase. 

Despite himself, Charles has a better outlook on his chances for the remainder of the season, driving-wise. He’s given it his all so far, and the rest looks promising enough. He only hopes he’s right. Netflix also increased the amount of people getting into the sport, so he’s dealing with tons more fans and nosey DMs, but it’s not too much of an impediment to a hopefully stellar season.

Charles makes a right. “Do you plan to use them?” Joris asks then, a teasing tone taking on his voice as he scrolls through his phone.

“No, not really,” Charles says, lying straight through his teeth.

“You’re a fucking liar, you are.” He whips his head toward Charles, observing his stoic side profile. “You’re single, haven’t gotten laid in months—”

“—weeks.” Corrects Charles with a cough, the defense coming at an embarrassing speed.

“…Case in point. And sports gets everyone horny. And if you didn’t know, Mattia actually OK-ed the condoms, so you’ve basically been greenlit by your boss to fuck half the world. Thank me later. I’m proud of myself.”

“Sports gets everyone competitive. Because it’s sports. Which, you’re conveniently forgetting, is my life profession.”

“Loosen up,” Joris whistles lowly. “You think Lewis got seven titles by being a closed-off celibate? It’s practically tradition to fuck around if you’re single in sports. And, for others, being in a relationship is barely an obstacle, anyway.”

Charles hates to admit that Joris is right—because he is. Racing isn’t racing without the extravagant parties that follow, and the girls and guys brought back to hotels for reasons known to everyone. People from everywhere come to the paddock and the clubs—models, influencers, actors. The pent-up energy has to go somewhere, he supposes.

But even if the little shit is right, Charles still maintains a level of dignity. Ergo, he’s steadfast in his belief that he will not be sleeping around or putting this godforsaken box of condoms to any semblance of use while the rest of the season progresses. He just hopes he won’t eat his words.

—

Monza kicks off with a 1-2 and secures Charles with a comfortable lead ahead Max.

He is high on adrenaline all night, toasting and chugging to the win, snapping pictures with Carlos, proud out of his mind. It’s everything he’s wanted and more, a quench to the thirst he’d developed over the season, a slap in the face to his doubters, a kiss on his. He texts his family, friends who aren’t present, some other people who he feels are deserving of a personal announcement, and pockets his phone.

“Now would be a great time to put that gift to use,” Carlos says at some point, when everyone in the garage is kicking back alcohol and slowly preparing to move the celebrations someplace else.

Charles cringes visibly, having almost forgotten about the dreaded gift, and totally forgotten Carlos’ knowledge of it. Even with the recent win, he’s already thinking of the next, the promise of a two-peat, another podium, hell, another 1-2. The condoms were honest to God the last thing on his mind.

They break apart an hour later, when Charles is heading to the hotel and Carlos is headed somewhere else. He’s almost to the exit when someone calls his attention in a curt English voice.He turns and finds Lewis jogging toward him, outside of his race suit and back in the fashionable apparel Charles merely wishes he could pull off.

“Lewis,” he waves, pacing toward him to save the extra few seconds of waiting. 

“Amazing, amazing race, man,” the elder compliments. “You’ve got the best chance at the title here.”

Warmth melts into Charles’ body and he offers praise back, which—praising Lewis is just about the easiest thing in the world. Nerves bleed out of him as the conversation continues, the atmosphere of a finished race a welcome accompaniment to their strategic talk. 

“Headed to a party, yeah?” Lewis asks when they’ve both exhausted the topic. Charles gives a half-hearted shrug, already energized enough from such a momentous win, and he nods in response. “Nah, I get it. Sometimes you just gotta sleep. But hey, if you’re ever free, we should go get dinner sometime.”

—

The “dinner sometime” happens in Singapore. Having gotten P1 beside Lewis and therefore once again high off the adrenaline, Charles claps Andrea on the back and retrieves his phone to view two texts. One reads Put the condoms to use yet, champ? from Joris, and the other Can I take you up on the dinner? from Lewis. One goes answered and the other goes muted on his iMessage.

A little something he failed to remember was Lewis’ plant-based diet, a fact that hurtles back toward him when he can’t find steak on the menu of this classy, hole-in-the-wall type of restaurant. Of course Lewis would know these types of places, he thinks. He’s a millennial semi-hipster with a separate Instagram account for his dog.

Charles ends up ordering pasta, and Lewis beside him orders a cacophony of very vegan, hippy sounding meals, the quantity of which could feed the two of them. “I hope you don’t mind,” Lewis says when the waiter departs, “but a friend is actually joining us tonight.”

“Sure,” Charles says honestly. As long as it’s not some deranged hyperfan, he does well in social situations. Right then, Lewis calls someone over. Charles looks up, squints through the dim mood lighting to try and make out the nearing figure. And then you’re sitting down across them, smiling softly, exchanging hellos with Lewis.

A little something Lewis fails to remember is his “friends” can just as well be called “celebrities,” because he is, after all, a sporting legend. So if Lewis says “friend,” Charles will assume it’s a “friend,” and not a world-famous model whose face is plastered everywhere on and offline.

“Charles Leclerc,” he says blankly.

You introduce yourself, sliding easily into a bout of questions, apologies for missing the race, you’re impossibly jetlagged, it’s crazy. Lewis chips in with something about how he’s already ordered food for the both of you, and this and that, and Charles is hopeless, staring at your face the entire time. He hopes he looks more sexy than aloof or, worse, starstruck, because it’s turning out to be the kind of situation where he looks like the deranged hyperfan, and not the other way around for once.

To be clear, Charles isn’t a fan of you. He just knows of you, because honestly, who doesn’t at this point? You’re talking on and on about how your latest shoot with Jacquemus was a pain because you shot in a tank top in sub-zero weather, but you express it like it’s the most profound topic on Earth.

Lewis turns to him and, in an (eventually successful) effort to include more of Charles in the conversation, goes, “She’s a big Formula One fan, Charles.”

Okay. Common ground. Charles lifts both brows smugly, his eyes flickering back over to you. “Really?”

You meet his eyes and smile, looking downward and blinking owlishly. You’re so pretty, long lashes fluttering as you blink and try to find an answer. Christ, you’re so painfully his type.

Lewis chimes in again—“Really. And not just because she and I are friends. I mean she was into racing before we got acquainted. Honestly. Quiz her and everything”—then excuses himself to “take a call.” (His phone wasn’t even ringing—total bullshit—but Charles is ultimately grateful for it.)

You make a face of shut up toward the departing Lewis, and Charles exhales a quiet laugh at your defiance. You clear your throat and come up with an answer.

“I’m not a big fan,” you say. “I’m more of a casual, ‘every once in a while’ type of fan.”

“That’s what every big fan of sports says,” Charles says smoothly. 

“Is it?” You ask, cocking your head to the side, making a tch noise. You chuckle before going, “Well, if you insist, I’ll be honest. I didn’t want it to come to this, but okay. I am a fan… of Red Bull.”

Charles fakes extreme offense, his jaw dropping as if totally scandalized. You laugh, throwing two hands up in faux surrender. “Not Red Bull,” he says, his tone making him sound even more devastated. “You’re telling me you—don’t tell me you think Max Verstappen is attractive.”

“I mean, a bit!”

Charles makes sarcastic sounds of disapproval, and you laugh. Charles leans forward, and you do, too, both of you smiling. “So you’re into the angry drivers?”

“I’m not into a specific kind of driver,” you say casually, your tongue peeking out to lick over your bottom lip. Your voice is as soft as it is firm, slow and demure, matching the way your eyes glint. You’re impossibly pretty. He almost can’t handle it.

“So who’s making the cut?” He prompts, interested.

“Well, for starters, drivers who are my age,” you say slowly. “I turned twenty-four this year, so anyone within that bracket.”

“Oh?” Charles pretends to delve into deep thought, teasing. “Maybe Stroll? He’s very funny, speaks good English. You can never really say no to a Canadian.”

Your face warms, and you hope your flustered state isn’t too obvious as you shake your head. “He seems fun, but I prefer somebody a bit… a bit older.”

“Older…” he hums. “Pierre, perhaps? Tad bit older, real charming, great driver. I can introduce you. We’re good friends, you know.”

You click your tongue, smiling shyly. You bite your lip and it takes everything in Charles to not turn on his horny gears when he sees you, big eyes and lip bite, look so pretty. “You tease me,” you say meekly. Charles covers a cough with a chuckle and adjusts his position on the seat.

Later, after Lewis comes back in (“Long call, eh? It was about Roscoe.” Bullshit again) and you all get to order drinks, and you’ve departed in your private car, pressing an air kiss to Lewis and waving goodbye to Charles, he turns to the Mercedes driver and hums.

“Next time you have one of these”—he points to the restaurant, gestures to the front door—“dinners, let me know, okay?”

“Ah.” Lewis winks, smirking. “I’ll be sure to.”

—

Understandably, your schedules never seem to mesh well together. Lewis ends up giving Charles your number as compensation.

He stares at the contact longer than he’d like to admit, when he’s marinating in the sweltering heat of Austin. He’s finished much of his work for this half of the day so he’s mostly watching the engineers work on the last bits of modification for Sunday; he cherishest the free time and drafts, reads, and rereads texts, scours Google and Instagram for pictures of, and anything related to, you.

There’s a few new articles about buying a new car (a Benz, much to Charles’ chagrin) and new photoshoots intermittently scattered across Europe, with all sorts of brands. He sees a picture you’ve posted of yourself smiling at the camera and thinks of how pretty it would look as his lockscreen. 

Am I seeing you soon? He texts finally. He hopes it’s enough to let you know who he is.

Hopefully is the reply. He smiles the whole day.

—

You’ve been texting and calling almost everyday, conversations stretching continents. He only sees you next in Mexico, Friday night, at a club Lewis has rented out for a crazy price that will no doubt be replenished in days anyway. He’s dropped to second here, but the thrill riding in him makes up for his disappointment. The place is so crowded—everyone and their mums seem to have been invited here—room blinking purple and blue, each step vibrating with the heavy bass of EDM. He catches you right as you exit the washroom area, and you look pleasantly surprised to see him.

He saw you earlier, when you were doing shots of tequila and chatting with with Bella and Lewis, but just as quickly as he spotted you, you’d dipped back into the sea of people. Now is better, he thinks. You two are alone.

“Charles, hi,” you say casually. You’re wearing a tight top and a short skirt that, despite Charles’ best efforts, always cast his gaze downward. He wonders what’s underneath, hungers to get his hands there. But he’s nothing if he’s not patient, willing to play the long game.

He takes a step forward, his gaze steady on you. Charles isn’t the tallest driver, but he’s got a big presence. You swallow, taking a step back to accommodate him. He smirks. “You look pretty.” 

“You flatter me,” you say thickly, smiling, inviting him closer. The air is hot around the both of you—when your eyes flit around, they see nobody. You’re alone together. His eyes pierce into yours so deep you feel like breaking eye contact, exhaling as you take another step back—evidently, you’re distracted, because you stumble.

His arm circles around your waist, and once you steady, the hand moves down to your hip. It stays, a reminder of what you might be getting soon. You smile curtly, wondering what this might look like to a bystander, a stranger. Somebody might want to piss and walk in to see the strongest world champion contender’s hand on Chanel’s poster girl’s waist.

“Is this okay?” He asks softly against your ear.

“More than.” You say, breath shaky. “It’s more than okay.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d hate if we couldn’t fuck before Abu Dhabi.”

Your finger traces down and wraps around the belt loop of his jeans. “Who said anything about fucking?”

Charles exhales a laugh, his lips curling upward into an amused smile. “Ah? I can’t fuck you, then?”

“I’ll let you fuck me when you’re holding up the world champion trophy,” you say sweetly, tugging him closer. “That’s okay, right?” You stare up at him, blinking, pouty. He wonders, is this how you might look with your lips wrapped around his—

“That’s about a month away.” His composure barely wavers, his hand traveling lower, blunt nails digging into your ass. Your breath hitches. 

“I’m aware,” you say lowly. So be it, Charles thinks—he’s got thirty-six condoms for a reason.

“Define fuck,” he says, voice rough.

“Penetration.” You’re quick with it, cocking your head to the side. You lean back confidently, testin him, eyes batting flirtatiously. 

It’s time he get a little creative.

—

Daytime weather is hot and the paddock is swarming with people, but Charles has his sights set on somebody sitting in the Mercedes hospitality. He manages to get out of morning meetings earlier, wedging himself out of the room and passing by a mirror to fix his hair with admirable concentration. He’s in the middle of combing through it when a force tugs at the hem of his polo, causing him to stumble backwards.

���Uh—Carlos? What the hell?” He asks, brow raised defensively. Facing him are Carlos, Joris, and Pierre, arms crossed over their torsos and amused expressions on their faces.

“What are you doing?” Asks Pierre, cocking his head to the side.

“Fixing my hair.” 

“Pussy appointment?” Joris interjects; the vulgarity of his statement earns him a poke on the side from Carlos, who clicks his tongue.

“Wh—I don’t—”

“You are shit at lying, mate,” says Pierre, his lips curled into a devious smile. “Who is it?”

“It’s nobody,” he lies.

“Charles,” says Lewis suddenly from behind them, waving his arms to get the former’s attention, “are you going to go over and say hi?”

Hook, line, and sinker. He’s been caught. “Well, well, well,” Carlos starts, mischievous.

“Guys—” Charles says, attempting to make an excuse.

“Looks like your vow of celibacy isn’t so far off after all,” Pierre adds. “That one over at Mercedes is going to break it, eh?”

“Yeah.” Joris says, smirking.  “Lucky George, huh.”

The three face him, incredulous. “I was kidding,” he fibs, once he realizes his epiphany is wrong. “Kidding.”

Charles walks off, and ends up seeing you right where he expected you, sitting beside Lewis in a tiny dress with your hair pinned up into a bun. Almost naturally, your words fall into the flirtatious back-and-forth you’d started at the dinner, hyperaware of the cameras snapping your pictures. At some point, the Brit excuses himself to “take a call” (again, bullshit) and leaves the two of you alone.

“See anything nice on the paddock?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with a teasing smile, head cocking to the side to gauge his reaction. He chuckles.

“Did you get a picture with Max?”

“Only a ton.” You pause. “And Daniel, too.”

“Ah, you’re just crushing on the whole paddock, now are you?” He pokes his tongue into his cheek, leans forward.” Uh, Checo?”

“Pass,” you say with a nose scrunch. You’re so fucking pretty.

“Lewis.”

“God, pass. He’s not ugly, but he’s my brother at this point.”

“Pierre.”

“Horribly French, but… smash.”

“Are you not into the French?” He smiles. “Good to know. Hmm—Carlos.”

“I’d be stupid to say anything other than smash.” You narrow your eyes, licking over your lips. “I’m into the Ferrari guys, is the thing.” His gaze travels to your crossed legs, long and disappearing into the hem of your dress.

He smirks. “Are you?”

“I really am,” you hum.

“Are you staying long? All weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free from work for now,” you say casually. “Any recommendations on what fun things I can do here?”

“I can think of…” he says, smirking a little. “A few.”

—

Stupid places to have sex, number one: a motorhome.

Still, Charles is crowding you up against the wall of the room, swallowing the whimper that leaves your mouth with his own. And still, this isn’t sex. At least not the kind he wants the most. He mentally praises Carlos for being able to decipher the typo-laden text he’d sent out on the way here, one hand around your waist, the other barely capable of typing with how fast his brain ran. Clesr the fuckng room npw now npw it read. Thank God.

Your mouth tastes like champagne, and everywhere else smells divine. Your hands roam impatiently over his shoulders and you make muted noises of frustration at your inability to pull his shirt off. You settle for letting your hands crawl underneath it, stroking over his abs.

“D’you remember what I told you,” you pant, his lips insistent on your neck, “at the club?”

“Yeah,” he says, grunting at the memory.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Let me suck you off.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “Jesus. Okay. Fuck.”

You giggle, and he watches intently as you drop onto your knees, looking up at him through thick lashes. You’re insistent, pulling the zip of his jeans down and tugging his cock out. It’s pretty, thick like the rest of him, already hard. 

He’s at his limit, having you here like this, on you knees and stretching your lips around the tip of his dick. Your eyes barely leave his, fluttering as they tear up when you take him in your throat.

He throws his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, lets a hand unpin your bun and thread itself into the untangled hair. If he looks at you, he’ll see your head bobbing up and down on his cock, and he genuinely needs to hold off the orgasm first.

He rocks forward into your mouth and feels your throat close up around him. That’s enough to weaken his resolve, send grunts out of his throat that he can’t keep quiet.

“Oh, shit,” he says, feeling every part of your mouth and throat around him, warm and tense. He can’t help but thrust harder, steady but not too rough, growing more aroused with every sound of you choking on him.

His gaze flickers toward you. You’re teary-eyed, lips dotted with spit, choking yourself on his cock. Just for him, here in public. You pull off, blinking tears away from your face and looking up at him smilingly.

He laughs, guiding his cock back into your mouth, watching the way your brows knit together, pleading, almost. You're at his mercy, he thinks, thrusting harder, listening to your coughs. He loves seeing you like this, innocent face messy and slick with spit and precum, eyes big and needy.

“You like that?” He grunts. “Look at me.”

You nod the best you can. Yes, you want to say. Give me more, I love it.

“Yeaaah, fuck. I know you do,” he says through his teeth, staving off his orgasm the best he can before he releases all over you. The image alone of streaking you with his cum, claiming you all over-eyelashes, tits, cheeks splashed with cum-is enough to send him closer to the edge. “Gonna cum,” he grunts.

You moan around him, the vibrations causing his eyelids to flutter. You shake your head, pulling off and wrapping your hand around his dick, stroking slower. “Not yet,” you say sweetly, watching him throw his head back in pleasure and frustration. He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, exhales shakily.

“Shit.” He whines. “Come on, baby. Make me cum.” He cups your jaw, stares down at you.

You stroke him faster, lip between your teeth. “Okay,” you say with a smile. “Cum for me, Charles.”

He stops staving himself off, falls into the pleasure and relief of your hand around his cock until he’s tense all over, knitting his hand into your hair and pushing you backwards so he can press his tip on the flat expanse of your tongue and let his cum shoot there. It drips from your tongue and lips onto your chin and you giggle, swallowing it, scooping up the rest to push into your mouth.

You stand, licking your lips slowly. “I owe you,” he pants, zipping himself up. Already he’s thinking about what he can do to you in return. Tease you, like you did him, bend you over his lap or sit you on it and make you whine and writhe and wait and cum. 

“I’ll hold you to that, champion,” you murmur, kissing his cheek and slipping back outside.

—

Ferrari’s advice is shit and despite his good mood and quick-witted driving, Charles finishes in fifth—not too shabby, but disastrous for his overall standings.

He suffers through a horrible debrief where attempts to defend his honor go unheard, his mood wilting and wilting until he’s at the media pen and ushered in front of some network he hasn’t heard of. They’ve probably paid to get a good seat here.

He’s in a shit mood, he hasn’t seen Joris or Pierre or you in hours, and has only faced red-faced frustrated superiors and now, wide-eyed journalists with loose mouths. The media’s done the mandatory speculation between the two of you, so he already expects questions of that variety, but it’s still hot and angry when he does.

Are you banging the Marc Jacobs model? The Irish reporter asks with a wink, so very unprofessional and not at all belonging to reputable media. The hot leggy one who has fuck me eyes?

Charles clenches his jaw, rolls his eyes, says fuck off mate and shoves him backward a little, then walks away and readjusts his cap. The clip makes Twitter and he feels even worse with the amount of troll accounts telling him to Jeez, take a joke.

After the ordeal, in your hotel room, you sigh softly and run your hands through his still shampoo-smelling hair. “You didn’t need to do that,” you say, a bit strictly. He knows you’re grateful, though, and a bit proud.

“I wanted to,” he insists softly. He forgets to leave before morning; when he does, he forgets his official Ferrari shirt hanging on the seat, leaving in a spare one instead. It’s got his number across the back. You don’t tell him.

—

In between Mexico and Sao Paulo, he manages to catch a flight to New York to peek into one of your photoshoots. It’s for Chanel and he’s half-sure he’s taken more pictures of you than the official photographer did. At this point your vague relationship status has caught onto headlines everywhere, and he doesn’t miss the curious murmurs from paparazzo that follow him as he enters your apartment later to greet you.

You’re in a pair of shorts and a tank top when you open the door, greeting him with a tight hug and leading him inside with a loose grip.

“Wine?”

“Please.” He eyes the wide area, the big floor-to-ceiling windows and the art on the walls. “Hungry?”

“Mmm.” You hum, sliding a glass toward him. “Starving.”

“Pizza?”

“Something else.” You smile. He tears his eyes away from your tits, poking out of the thin cotton, and coughs.

The both of you end up on the couch, your legs draped over his as you talk about racing.

He’s ranting about how he’s neck to neck with Max now, and the final verdict will likely be decided at Abu Dhabi, a fact that sends nerves all through him. You’re listening, you really are, but it’s difficult to keep listening because his hand, big and rough, is stroking your bare calf as he talks absentmindedly. 

You offer the occasional mmm-hmm and uh-huh and even the oh really to sell it, but he doesn’t seem to be conscious of how many sparks are coursing through you because of his hand on your leg. He just talks and talks, accent curving into curse words elicited by the competition.

And his voice, rough and deeper when he slides into Italian phrases, gets in your head, reminds you of the way he’d moaned when you had his dick in your mouth. You like that? he’d said, panting, heavy, hot. His hand remained in your hair, controlling you the same way you did him. Fuck.

When you blink, he’s stopped talking, and has likely noticed your wandering imagination if his teasing smile is anything to go by. You cough, clear your throat, adjust your thighs. You’re thinking—you can’t stop thinking—about what happened in Mexico, not just in the motorhome but in the club where he’d let his hand sprawl over your ass and stay there, possessive.

The tension rises. I owe you. He really does. You reach over and grab your phone from the coffee table, snap a few pictures of him. “—Hey!” He protests, scrabbling to grab it from you while balancing his half-full glass. “I look god awful.”

You stand up, review the picture. He looks so impossibly handsome. “You’re right, you do,” you say, pouting. 

He reaches over again, chuckling, and you avoid him. “Foul play!”

“Tch. At least show it to me,” he says defeatedly, so you do: presenting your screen to him.

Quickly, he makes a grab for it, but you just escape his grip, ending up right in front of him and leaning over. You’re losing your balance, digging your toes into your carpet to maintain stance. He spares a glance at your shorts, riding low on your hips, showing a bit of thin lace.

Charles tugs you forward by the hem of your top and then takes your wrist into his grip—the force of his grab makes your tits shake underneath your flimsy tank top. It’s dragged down so far your tits are spilling out. His eyes flicker down to them, dark, and a pretty smile spreads across his face.

“Come on, give it,” he challenges, eyes narrowing a little. You bite your lip, inwardly liking this a little too much—being at his mercy, trapped in his strong grip. You’re flustered and it shows.

He wrestles you onto his lap with ease, his arms steady around you. You stare downwards, dark eyes meeting his, hand on his broad shoulder for leverage. He’s so pretty, you think, so hot and handsome and you need him right now. Through his jeans you can feel how thick he is, his dick growing, getting hard and huge under you. It feels big even through a few layers—you can’t help but imagine how it might feel inside you.

Your phone clatters to the carpet behind the couch. “I win,” you say breathlessly.

He grabs your hips and jerks his upward, letting his stiff dick press up even more against your shorts.

“I think I’m the winner here,” he says gruffly, hands feeling you up all over. He thumbs at your chest, rubbing over your tits. You shiver—it feels good having him on you like this, your mind turning to mush.

“Shut up,��� you laugh, shakily. A hand wanders in between your thighs, another coming to squeeze your barely-covered ass. You can’t focus on much, just his hands roaming everywhere and his hard dick pressing against your core. He shoves your hips downward again, his cock hard and perfectly against your pussy.

“You feel that?” He asks; it leaves him in one low breath.  

“Yeah,” you say, whimpering. “I want it.”

He grinds up against you again, his thumb teasing the hem of your shorts. Closer to where you want it. “Don’t think you could even take it, baby.”

“I hate you,” you say. “You know I can.”

He laughs. “We’ll see, yeah?” You find a rhythm of grinding down against his cock, nestled right against your ass. He’s everywhere and you can’t handle it anymore, finding yourself craving him more and more.

You moan against his neck—and then come to your senses. “No.”

He smirks when you pull away. “Tempted, were you?”

“Not…” You pause. You’re sweaty, flushed all over, and your panties are sticking to you from how wet you’ve grown. “Not very.”

—

Abu Dhabi is a son of a bitch.

It comes with meetings, meetings, debriefs, calls, meetings. Everything is riding on the night’s race, the flurry of social media a welcome source of anxiety for him as he watches the hours whiz by. You’d missed seeing him, understood he was busy; you send a selfie to compensate and it gets him calm enough to last the pre-race buzz.

Time speeds by with lunch, coaching, drills, talks with Carlos and Mattia and even Max, who displays support as strongly as competitiveness. Before he even realizes it, he blinks and he’s in his suit, adjusting his balaclava, inhaling, exhaling. Everything is just the way he likes—needs—it to be.

He drives himself to P2 behind Max, eyes shut.

All else seeps into him, natural method, natural routine. He flexes his thumbs. Through the team radio his engineer goes good luck, and Charles’ practice bleeds into his subconscious. The air is heavy, with tension and excitement, the division of blue and red. Everyone’s eager to see who claims the title. 

The lights go off and everything is left to skill, blurring into noise and turns and expletives yelled into the team radio. He can’t even feel himself think, turning with dexterity and overtaking with the kind of vengeance he hasn’t let out in a while. 

For all his trying, Max keeps up just the same, keeping a neck and neck level for the relative entirety of the race. They’re milking out the last few laps together, and Charles feels every fibre of his being work toward this, just this, nothing but this right now. Nothing but the finish line.

You got this, Charles, says the engineer, voice heightening. Maiden world championship.

He nods to himself, trusts his instincts and when he catches sight of the finish line, he thinks: he’s the best driver on the grid.

So he revs faster, and the rest descends into—

Absolute fucking chaos.

—

He’s smiling when he approaches the reporter, who’s already holding the mic with wonder. He asks for a message in Italian, then reminds him—and the crowd—that, in case he forgot, he’s world champion. Charles thinks he genuinely can’t ever.

“What are you doing to celebrate?” He asks then, smiling.

Sweaty, with damp hair and shiny skin, he smirks and leans closer. “Someone, I hope.”

—

“Hey there, champ.”

You’re already leaning against his hotel room door when he gets there, after the chore of wrestling himself free from the rest of the team pressuring him to get drinks. Carlos helps out, babbles something or other about Charles being “busy with something else”—which isn't wrong, not at all. He offers a smooth wink, bending down to kiss you.

Your mouths meet, softly first then increasingly messy as he pins you against the door. You push away, breathing heavy. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I don't want the top floor of this hotel seeing us fucking.”

“I wasn’t into that, but now that you brought it up…” You swat his arm and he laughs, unlocking the door and pulling you inside. You’re clinging onto him—his arms, his chest, anything, kissing up his neck and jaw. He groans at how needy you are. All for him, he thinks. Probably soaked through your panties and it’s all because of him.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says gently, voice low as he leads you to the bed. He catches sight of your shirt and a brow raises. “Did you buy that?”

“Hmm?” You look down, following his gaze and blinking. The shirt you’re wearing is loose, hanging off your shoulders and hastily tucked into your miniskirt so it looks like you actually have trousers on. “Oh. No, this is yours.”

“Mine.” He smiles a little. “You look so good in it, princess.” His hands mindlessly grope at you, hungry, sneaking underneath your skirt to feel at the lace there. 

In retaliation, you lean forward, unbutton his jeans and tug at it.

“You left it at one of my”—you gasp, feeling his finger sneak its way beneath your panties—“my hotel rooms.”

“Pretty girl, pretty shirt, pretty lace, yeah?” He tugs, lets the garter of the skirt loosen and fall off your hips on its own. “Red.”

“You take too long,” you groan.

“You’re just eager,” he laughs, thumbing at your clothed cunt.

You’re so wet, evident even in the lazy circles he rubs over your entrance. You’re aching, desperate, begging almost. So he gives you what you want, maneuvers you onto his lap and pushes your (his) shirt up to stuff your mouth with it.

It won’t work for long, but it’s enough. He pushes your panties to the side and pulls his hard dick out. You’re sitting against it now, leaking slick onto it, at his mercy, branding his name and his number across your back. It’s hot. 

He stares at the way you rock softly against him, hungry eyes meeting yours. “You’re so pretty, baby. Ruined.”

“Fuck me already,” you say, voice throaty, innocent.

“Can you take it?” He asks, teasing you, slapping his dick against your clit softly. You whine.

“Please,” you insist. “I want it. Make it fit.”

He’s a massive tease with it, his breath fanning against your skin, hands sticky on where they’ve hiked your shirt up. He lowers you, slower, against the tip of his dick and he watches your eyes flutter when you sink onto it. After ages of waiting. Your grip’s like iron on his shoulders, moans leaving you in quiet bursts of pleasure. 

You’re far away, dumb from the feeling, you barely register the way he shoves the shirt back into your mouth to keep you quiet. “So fucking tight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. It’s muffled, barely intelligible. “For you.”

You’re only able to take it because you’re so wet, so turned on, face and brain filled with nothing but pleasure. He can’t take it.

“Mmmfh,” you say, muffled by the bite of cotton in your mouth. You’re sweaty, flushed, overstimulated—you don’t know where to focus. On his lips against your jaw, his hand on your neck, the way your pussy swallows his aching dick. “It’s so big, I—”

“You okay?” He asks, breathily. Smiling. He’s in control, but still he sounds whiny—almost, if not as desperate as you. “You’ll take it all for me, won’t you?” 

“Oh god,” is all you muster, letting him stretch you out even more, gushing all over his cock. “I, I—”

He moans, his grip tight against your waist, watching his dick bury itself in you. “You’re getting me so full,” you whine. “So deep, I feel it—” you taper off into a moan again when he presses hs thumb to your clit, distracting you from the stretch as he finally, finally bottoms out.

“Good?”

You nod. So good, give me more.

You grind against him, let the shirt fall out of your mouth. “You’re getting my dick so wet,” he comments, breathless. “So pretty for me, too.”

Growing antsy, he attempts to move, but you whine. Your turn to tease, you think, after he was a dick to you just now. “Not yet,” you say, lip caught between your teeth. His hands are tight around your waist. Desperate.

You squeeze around him, watch his brows knit together, a grunt leave him in a frustrated exhale. “You wanna fuck me?” You tease against his neck, blinking innocently.

“Yes,” he replies, not missing a beat. You pout, like you’re empathizing with the problem you’re causing; you grind slowly against him and he lets out a guttural fuuuuck. He’s so big, so hard—you can feel every inch of him inside you.

“Tell me again, Charles,” you say with a giggle. You’re so hot like this, face flushed and timid, hips moving slowly. He could cum just from the way you bite your lip, the way a whimper slips out of you when he hits the right spot.

“—Yeah,” he says, sweetly. “I want to—please, let me fuck you. C’mon, baby, can I?”

“Aww,” you tease. 

“Can I?” He asks again, voice deep and thin with the need to fuck you, thrust up into you and make you the dumb one. His face is flushed and desperate. “Can I move, baby? Let me, please.”

You’re not stupid. You know—if his flushed, pleading face and big green puppy eyes are anything to go by—that he’s going crazy, growing antsy. But you’re not complaining.

“Hmm,” you say, feigning genuine thought. “I don’t know, Charles. Feels good just like this. And you want to make me feel good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Yeah.” You repeat, staring into his dark eyes. He’s frustrated, desperate, flushed all over and sweaty. His fingers dig into your hips. “I’ll make you feel really good, baby, if you let me.”

“Go ahead,” you say softly, “fuck me, please.” And he’s thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. It’s knocking you out, almost, the pleasure of it, the dizzy onslaught of euphoria. He’s stretching you out so well, whining softly into your neck and yeah, you two have waited far too long to have this. You 

“Fuck,” he grunts, lids squeezed shut and head rolled onto your shoulder. “Go on, baby, ride it, make me cum.” He cups your jaw, reaches his thumb into your mouth. It’s too much, all of it. He makes you suck on it while thrusting up, dizzying you with his cock.

He grabs handfuls of your ass, teases his thumb at your tighter asshole just to watch your eyes flutter, feel your cunt grow wetter. “I’ll fuck you even fuller next time,” he says; the implication gets you hot.

You bounce harder, chasing release as his thumb teases over your ass, the tip of it just thrusting in enough to elicit strings of moans out of you. “Come on, ride me,” he goads. “So good for me.”

“Fuck,” you pant, “cum in me, please.”

You cum first, writhing around him and riding your orgasm out in lazy grinds over his hard cock. You want to see him cum, see his eyebrows knit and his mouth release pretty whines, feel him claim you inside, hands hot and heavy on your ass. He does, with a guttural fuuuuck, shoving his dick up in you to the base and spurting all his cum in you.

He thrusts, watches his cum leak out of you, fucks it back in, in a vicious cycle. You shiver, blinking coquettishly and watching along—and then you’re both crumpling over each other on the bed behind you. You pant heavily against his chest.

“Hey.” He muses out loud, drumming against your skin.

“Yeah?”

“I have thirty-six condoms we need to go through. Wanna go on a date?”

[sailoryooons]

hiiii :3 i’m a VERY silent reader (i’m terrified of my irls finding me on this god forsaken app) but i just love your writings so much so i had to participate in the agust event!!!!

childhood bffs yoongi x reader smut where they’re definitely probably too close, way closer than bffs should be anyways. reader goes to yoongi one night complaining bc no matter what she does, she just can’t cum! good thing yoongi’s actions speak louder than words <3

pls pls pls get totally creative w this, i love ur brain sm and i love seeing what you come up with!!!

❀ Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

❀ Summary: Yoongi has always been your closest friend, but it’s always been a little closer than everyone else. He takes it one step further, offering to address a silly little problem for you. 

❀ Word Count: 2,320

❀ Genre: Friends to something more, PWP 

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

❀ Warnings: Explicit language, some feelings of insecurity but like barely, talking about orgasm struggles, explicit sexual content including vaginal fingering, nipple stimulation, a hint of choking, a lot of sucking on neck/throat, nipple play, mostly reader getting finger blasted sdfnodsifgj, reader is completely naked and Yoongi is still clothed, mentions of oral (f. receiving), a little bit of cum eating

❀ Published: August 23, 2022

❀ A/N: Okay so this was supposed to be posted way earlier than 10:30 PM EST but I completely forgot I had this sitting and waiting to post (it was a long day) but HERE IT IS!!! I love the idea of Yoongi casually just being like yeah I’ll get you to come or whatever, let’s do it sdfjdfogijdfrgi thank you so much for being a reader and requesting something - silent or talkative reader, I'm just happy you're here and that you enjoy my writing! Thank you for being here.

❀ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

| Masterlist | Ask | Hali’s Happy Agust |

“You what?” You ask Yoongi, breath shaky. “Don’t play around like that, it’s not very funny.”

It’s rare that you can’t tell if Yoongi is making a joke or not. Though his humor is quiet like the night sky outside and soft like the sweater he’s draped in, you know Yoongi. Know him well enough to detect the subtle notes of a joke in his hushed words, know to listen amid the loud voices of your friends for a quiet jest, spoken softly just for you. 

Now, though, you’re a little unsure. 

Everyone has said for years that your friendship with Yoongi is too friendly. You vehemently disagree: affection between friends should be encouraged and treasured. Being able to platonically hold hands, share beds, and offer physical affection isn’t something reserved for lovers. You adamantly believe in this - always have. 

But… it is different with Yoongi. You think about how you always hold Taehyung’s hand, how you let him curl into your side during movies, or how he nests in your bed when he grows too tired for parties. Taehyung is particularly affectionate, but it does feel different.

“Let me make you cum,” Yoongi repeats, as though he’s reflecting on the weather outside. He’s on his knees on the couch next to you, hands resting in his lap. “No one should have to go through their adult life without partners making them cum.”

You roll your eyes. “Plenty of people can’t cum for a number of reasons, Yoongi.”

“Okay, that’s fair. Let me try anyway.”

“Why do you care?”

He tilts his head. “Because you’re you. And I’m good at making people cum. It feels like an obvious answer.”

“We’re best friends.”

“My point exactly. Look, if I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I-”

You shake your head and wave him off. “No, I just. Didn’t expect the offer and it made me nervous.”

“Nervous how?”

Letting out a long exhale, you rest your head on the back of the couch and look up at the ceiling. Your warm mug of tea is abandoned and the drama on the TV plays on, silent in the background. You chew the inside of your cheek, wondering how to string your words together. 

With anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed or nervous. With Yoongi, your anxiety is significantly less. Even if you speak the words on your mind, you’re sure it won’t change things. You’ve been through your fair share of oversharing, never shamed, never turned away. 

It’s how you started this conversation about your sex life in the first place.

So you decide to be honest. 

“Nervous like, I’m into it and I want to try it out, but I don’t want it to make our dynamic weird.” 

“It’s not weird for me if it’s not weird for you. I’m sorry I offered so bluntly.” 

Your lips twitch and you reach out, taking his hand in yours. Yoongi has beautiful hands. Long fingers with knobby knuckles, blunt nails and gentle fingertips, calloused palms. You’ve mapped the structure of his palm hundreds of times, know the shapes of the lines on them, and watched a palm reader chart the stars on them. 

Yoongi’s hands are where you’re safest. 

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t violate a boundary.” His mouth is soft when he smiles, his eyes are dark when he watches you. He’s so pretty. A soft thing with round cheeks, kind eyes, and gentle smiles. Quiet. Confident. “You really wanna try?” 

Yoongi’s grin turns feral. “I do.” 

“Alright.”

It starts with him leading you to your room, hand holding yours gently. It starts with a shy smile and hungry eyes, Yoongi watching you as you sit on the edge of your bed, unsure and giving him a questioning gaze. His hands are confident when he makes you move backward, shuffling until you’re in the middle of your bed on your back. 

Yoongi joins you on the bed, kneeling next to you. He watches as he reaches out, brushing his fingertips over your thigh. His touch is featherlight, making you shiver. He doesn’t do anything but this at first, tracing the shape of your clothed hip, up the sides of your rips, under the curve of your breast. 

Your breath catches, fixated on Yoongi as he outlines your curves. His eyes flicker to your face, drinking in your expression when he draws his fingers over the swell of your tits and over your nipple. The stimulation is barely there but it spikes. You inhale sharply and he smirks as he keeps going, brushing over your throat, and under your jaw, feeling your pulse. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs. He takes you by the chin, thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “What do you like?” 

It’s hard to answer. Yoongi’s hand leaves your mouth and trails back down to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat but doesn’t squeeze. It’s a barely-there ghost of a grip and he raises his eyebrow. You nod, unable to string together an answer. He squeezes gently before continuing his exploration downward again.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth. This Yoongi is one you’ve never experienced. He’s quiet as always, but the silence is heavier. Pointed. He bites his bottom lip a little as he passes your stomach and dips between your legs, pressing against your clothed cunt. 

“Yeah?” he asks when your hips twice. 

You feel heat lick through you, pooling between your legs. Your fingers twist in the sheets in anticipation. Heat pulses from your pussy, panties getting damp and Yoongi’s has barely touched you. It’s the way he looks at you, the way he presses his thumb against your swelling clit. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, voice watery. “I’m pretty into it.”

“I can tell,” he teases. He leans down, keeping one hand between your legs, gently applying pressure and circling his fingers as his lips search for yours. “You’re already wet, huh?”

Yoongi doesn’t let you answer. His lips capture yours and you sigh into his mouth, hands coming up automatically to wrap around his neck. It feels so natural. His hair is soft between your fingers and his mouth is warm, tasting faintly of the peppermint tea he drank earlier. 

Kissing Yoongi is heady. He controls the kiss, keeping the pace slow as if he’s savoring you. Your thighs close around his hand as he presses through your shorts harder. When he introduces his tongue to your mouth, it takes your breath away. 

Breaking the kiss, Yoongi mouths at your jaw. You arch into him, running your hands down his chest, feeling the warm skin beneath his sweater. One of your hands goes to his wrist pressed into the mattress by your head, holding onto him, the other goes to his hand between your legs, laying your fingers on his, pressing.

He hums, the buzz of his mouth against the underside of your jaw maddening. Together, you peel your shorts down your legs. Yoongi shuffles closer to you, your thigh pressed against his as he continues to kneel next to you, heat radiating from his body.

Yoongi traces the trim of your panties. You watch him, your mouth parted as you breathe unsteadily. He is solely focused on you. You can feel the slick sticking to the silk, watching as he drags a finger near your hip, his touch tantalizing. 

Maybe this is what you were missing. Yoongi takes his time, dragging out the feeling of his hands on you. Works you up as he removes your shirt and bra next. You feel drunk on him already, nipples pebbling in the cold room. His nails scratch lightly up your stomach to your chest. He smirks as he traces slow, lazy circles around your nipples, eyes glancing up to watch your expression. 

“Why?” you ask, hissing at the light stimulation. You want more. 

“No one is in a rush,” he mutters. His voice is low, raspy. “Are you?”

When you shake your head, he smiles, pinching a nipple between two fingers. A curse drips from your mouth and your hips buck. You close your eyes, letting Yoongi tweak one nipple then the other, letting him guide you through. The stimulation feels good - otherworldly, even, when he bends down and flicks the tip of his tongue over one playfully. 

“No,” you sigh. “Not in a rush.” 

His teeth scrape your sensitive bud and your head rolls back, pushing into the mattress. “Good. Relax, let me take care of you.”

Tension melts out of your body. You didn’t realize you were so tense until he pointed it out. You let yourself sink into the feeling of Yoongi sucking gently on the peak of your right nipple while his thumb brushes back and forth over the other. The stimulation feels good, your head lolling to the side as you breath shakily. 

Yoongi is slow. He takes his time running his tongue across your chest, air cooling is spit as he goes. You squeeze your thighs together, feeling your cunt throb for attention. He notices, nipping his way back up to your neck as he slides a hand down between your legs, pressing your panties into your sticky folds. 

“Fuck,” you sigh. He nuzzles your neck, tongue swipe over the sensitive spot of your throat. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking wet.”

“Good.” His words are muffle as he sucks at your tender skin. You angle your head, giving him better access. It feels like the bed is spinning wildly, a compass lost in an electromagnetic field. “Tell me at any point if something doesn’t feel good or you want something else.”

“Okay.”

You open your eyes and smile. It’s so Yoongi to make sure he asks what you want. So Yoongi to remind you that he’s here for you. That as he slips his hand under the waistband of your underwear, he’s determined to provide for you. To get you off. 

A moan slips out of your mouth when it comes into contact with your dripping cunt. He avoids touching your clit directly, fingers spreading your folds as he teases your hole experimentally. It feels good - whether it’s because it’s Yoongi or because you’re already worked up, it doesn’t matter. 

Yoongi circles around your clit deftly a few times, making your hips wiggle. A tingle settles in your stomach, fingers twisting in the sheets.

When he retracts his hand, you open your eyes. He watches you steadily lifting his fingers to pop them between pink lips and oh. He hums around his fingers, making a show of rolling his tongue around them, tasting your juices. He slides them slowly out of his mouth, hypnotizing you. 

“Mmm.” He grins and reaches to slide your underwear off. “Can’t wait to eat you out. First, I’m gonna make you come.”

Never in your friendship would you have imagined Yoongi to be like this. It would be a lie to say you’d never thought what it might be like to have him like this, his hands peeling your underwear off. The scrap of the silk on your legs is heady, every part of your skin extra sensitive. 

Lips parts, eyes fixed, you watch him toss the underwear to the side. He shuffles so that one knee rests against his leg, the other spread flat on the mattress for him. There is a split second where you feel vulnerable, spread open for him to see how much of a mess you are at the barely stimulation. You start to close your leg but Yoongi shakes his head, hand brushing down your inner thigh.

Slowly, Yoongi drags a finger up your slit to your entrance, massaging lightly with his finger before sinking in slowly. You let out a long breath, your walls clenching around his finger. It doesn’t provide a lot of stretch, but it feels good, the pad of his pointer stroking your inner wall. 

At first, Yoongi is slow. Familiarizing himself with your warm, wet heat. He picks up the pace then, stroking deeply, ensuring to push up against that soft spot inside of you. It drives you crazy. Crazier, still, when he leans down and attaches his mouth to yours, tongues tangling as he fingers you leisurely. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi mutters against your mouth. “You’ve got a wet little cunt.”

“Not usually,” you admit. You card your fingers through his hair, pulling at the ends a little. Your entire body is radiating with heat, sweat slicking your skin. “Fuck, it feels good. Doesn’t usually.”

“No?” he sucks harshly at your jaw and your eyes flutter shut. 

“No. Usually they jack hammer their fingers into my pussy.”

His laugh is hot on your skin. “Nah, just gotta find the spot.” 

Yoongi has found the spot. Makes it ten times better when he adds another finger, giving you something more substantial to grip on. Your cunt grips his fingers like a vice, slick sounds filling the room. He adds his thumb to the mix, pressing down on your clit. You gasp his name, hips bucking against his hand, dripping into his palm.

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts. “Fuck yourself onto my hand the way you like.” 

Together, you work yourself up to the edge. Yoongi doesn’t pause for a moment, doesn’t complain that his wrist is tired, doesn’t stop tonguing your sensitive spot on your neck until you’re clinging to him, coming around his fingers in a wet, messy squelch. 

You shake as he thrusts his fingers a few more times, the slopping sound of his palms smacking your pussy intoxicating. You feel like liquid, blurry at the edges and warm. 

“Holy shit,” you sigh. Yoongi pulls his fingers from your hole and you immediately squirm, hating the empty feeling. “That was just from your fingers?”

“Uh huh.” You watch as he licks his fingers again, grinning around them. Your stomach flips, cunt still leaking, begging for more. “Now watch what happens when I eat this pussy.” 

[magics-neptunes-things]

Recovery

Hi everyone :)

This was asking by someone like probably a year ago, sorry for the wait!

Prompt : have you had a good day? I hope so.someday we can get something from one batlle x reader.where their teammates think they are doing something out of character. But are they really just struggling not to take their medicine?

Maybe it's a little deeper than I thought at first, sorry? But it is a subject that I master rather well so I may have been a little carried away.

I'm still open for any of your ideas or want :)

TW : Oral fight, angst, depression, treatments, swearing.

______________________________________________________________

You’ve never been good at dealing with your emotions since you were a kid. Even if you never lacked anything and your parents always wanted the best for you, you always had a part in you that made you feel that everything you did was not enough. Having a little sister who was successful everywhere you had failed a few years ago probably didn’t help much, especially when you saw how proud your parents were of her. You have always been in the norm, in the average. You always did everything so that no one would notice you, your fear of being a disappointment taking over from the rest.

It worked for many years, until you changed class at school for random reason and ended up with Alessia Russo sitting next to you. For a reason that you never really understood, she got soft spot for you and wanted to become your friend. From the height of your eight years you were delighted and you gladly let yourself be dragged with her on the football fields. That’s when it really started. You found a sport that you liked and something that you really felt good about. Initially skeptical, your parents finally let you play and you climbed the ladder hand in hand with Alessia. The only difference was that you were in front of the goals trying to stop the balls rather than trying to put them in the net.

You and Alessia end up splitting up when she flies to the United States and you stay to play at Chelsea. You were selected to join the national team of England as soon as you were old enough and there too you made your place. At the end of your contract with Chelsea, you signed at Lyon, where you stayed until the summer of 2022. Year of England’s victory at the Euro, in which you participated by playing all the matches until the final. These memories will remain engraved in you forever, but it is also from there that your anxiety began to overtake you.

You didn’t say anything first of all, claiming that it came from your arrival in Barcelona, along with your colleague and friend Lucy Bronze. The latter had taken you under her wing for a long time, having perhaps realized that there was more to scratch under the surface of your smooth and angelic smile. Or maybe Alessia asked her to watch over you, because despite the physical distance between you two, she’s still your best friend.

Alessia introduced you to Ona, playing alongside her at Manchester United for a while. You quickly fell under the spell of the Spanish girl, her good humor, her charming smile and the way she had to sincerely care about others were something we are not used to. She quickly admitted that the feelings were reciprocal, but the geographical distance prevented you from fully living your relationship. When you learned that Ona’s transfer to Barcelona was finally accepted, you finally decided to try everything for everything. Instead of taking an apartment for her, you and Ona looked for an apartment together in which you settled when she arrived in Barcelona.

A few weeks later you were both called into your respective national selections. You knew what was happening in the Spanish squad, Ona having already refused to go there by signing a first petition against its leaders. Her change of heart was very badly perceived by the fans and the criticism she received affected you as much as it did to her. But you have always done your utmost to support her.

Being separated from Ona was not easy during those weeks. You managed to escape from time to time to find each other again, but having not mentioned your relationship outside your circles of friends, you didn't want to be caught by someone. Not to mention you were worried about the possible repercussions for Ona if her federation ever discovered the nature of your relationship.

The first panic attack you had was at the quarter-final against China. The goal you conceded that day was the first of the competition and the failure sensation that gave you was such that you had to lock yourself in the toilet at the end of the game. This is where Alessia found you and you don’t remember exactly how she brought you back to your hotel room, nor how she managed to make sure that Ona could join you there.

The following crises you managed to feel them happen, it was usually the night before the matches, but you also had some after the matches. Lauren, your regular tournament roommate, never realized every night you got up to go breathe fresh air on the balcony, sleeping too deep for that. And it was a relief to you, honestly. You didn’t want to worry anyone, let alone be pitied. Not being able to manage your nerves was a new shame in your eyes.

Except that you didn't win the tournament, losing the final because of a goal conceded. Your fault, finally. None of your teammates told you but you didn’t need to. You knew it. After your last game, you quickly jumped on the first plane back to Barcelona and away from Australia. You rejected your girlfriend’s offer not to go to the celebrations in Spain to stay with you, swearing that you were okay and that she deserved to enjoy what happened to her. If you sincerely thought the second part of the sentence, the first was probably the biggest lie of your life.

When you got to your apartment, you turned off your phone and lived in the dark for two days. Until Lucy shows up in your apartment and fails to break down the door, sent by a panicked Ona not to hear from you. After looking at the mace informs that you were under the sheets of your bed, Lucy pulled you out and took you to the emergency room. They found nothing physical, so you ended up in the psychiatric ward, despite your protests. They diagnosed you with depression and anxiety attacks but allowed you to go out only on the condition that you take your treatment daily.

You did for many weeks, before you realized that it was tiring you and making your abilities on the field less efficient than usual. Spoiler : It wasn’t, but your tortured mind didn’t seem to want to leave you alone.

So, you stopped taking them. To avoid Ona’s attention, you were throwing your daily dose of medication down the toilet. At first, it didn’t change your mood but you felt like you had regained the energy you had before. Except things started to turn the wrong way little by little. The slightest annoyance affected you a little too long and you started to have insomnia again. You briefly tried to take your treatment every two days, but it was worse than anything. So you simply stopped and you tried to silence the aggressive comments of your brain towards yourself. You had worried your girlfriend and friends enough about you.

****************

"Oh god Y/N how are you so clingy all the time?"

The phrase of one of the staff members, thrown in the tone of laughter, makes you raise your look from the screen of the computer on which Ona and you were watching a film. Train trips to another city were always a time when you chose to do something together. No team member seemed disturbed by this, you and Ona were almost tied by the hip at this point. The other couple, aka Ingrid and Mapi are doing the same anyway.

"I- I just…"

Surprised by the remark, you get up without thinking from Ona on which you had leaned your head. But your girl struck down the other woman with her eyes and took you back with authority against her.

"No need to be jealous like that" Lucy jokes from the seat in front of you, where she settled with Alexia.

"I love my clingy girlfriend just like that" Ona points and then put her attention back on the movie, making you to do the same.

You do it without adding anything, looking at the screen, the staff member leaving you to go back to her place. Or at least that’s what you want to make the other believe, your mind starting running. What if she was right and it was too much for Ona? You couldn’t stand a break up with her, she’s your pillar, your beacon in the dark. You try not to let anything appear, from your hands that become sweaty to your heart rate that has increased terribly.

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice the worried look that Lucy exchanges with Ona between the two seats. Normally, you would have started Lucy’s joke.

Your mind slows down when you feel your girlfriend’s nose briefly caress your temple and then leave room for her lips. She kisses you delicately, making you raise your look on her. Her eyes are sweet, her smile is tender and you can’t help but give it back to her.

"Mi corazoncita"

She whispers and this time you feel your heart racing with love. You are wrong to doubt the sincerity or strength of Ona’s feelings. She has always been there for you, for the best certainly but also for the worst. Especially for the worst.

****************

Unfortunately, these kinds of moments have become more frequent as the days go by. You have started to doubt each of the jokes that are made to you, you get lost in your thoughts and you regularly wake up in the middle of the night, the heart beating way too hard. It sometimes wakes Ona up and you pretend a nightmare, making her cuddle you and help you fall asleep again. When it doesn’t wake her up, you don’t have the heart to do it. So you sneak out from under the sheets to go to your living room and turn on the television, anything that would keep you from thinking again.

All of this added to lack of sleep makes you feel increasingly irritable. You lack patience during training and you even disrespected one of your teammates. You quickly apologized and were forgiven, but it was spotted by others. With the passage of time you started to feel like you were being put in the spotlight, just waiting for the other to make mistakes and point the finger at you.

This was not lacking in the next game, during which you conceded a new goal. Again, you’ve been in a terrible mood all weekend, just refusing to talk to anyone. The worst was probably the guilt that was eating away at you from your behavior. But it quickly became an infernal circle from which you couldn't get out, despite all the goodwill and hands extended by your girlfriend or friends. The worst was yet to come.

****************

You are in Barcelona, receiving the team of Atletico de Madrid. You didn't concede a goal that day and it was with great relief when you heard the whistle of the referee. Alexia scored a goal in the second half, which was enough for the team to win the famous three points. After greeting a few opposing players and congratulating your teammates (giving you a longer time when you found yourself against Ona), you and Lucy went to see Ana Crnogorčević with whom you played last year and whom you always liked.

The discussion was pleasant and you felt relieved and relaxed, like every time you won without conceding goals. While you were talking about Ana’s arrival in Madrid, the image you saw over the shoulder of your interlocutor was like a punch in the stomach.

Ona in full discussion with one of her acquaintances, Carmen Menayo. Really, you could have endured it since your girlfriend is perfectly entitled to have friends outside of you. But seeing that the other player had her hands almost everywhere at once on the body of your girlfriend made you see red. If you had been focused on Ona’s face you would have seen how uncomfortable this behavior made her, but that was the cork of your insecurity bottle.

Unable to see anything else, you only come back to yourself when you realize that Lucy is dragging you somewhere else.

"Come on Kiddo"

Once again your mind is blurred until you find yourself at home, in your apartment, without Ona. Where is she? Certainly enjoying her friend, having a good time with someone in a good mood. Someone who would make her happy. Someone who wouldn’t be you.

The mixture of anxiety, anger and all that has accumulated in recent weeks is about to make you lose your footing and, in a desperate attempt, you begin to walk. You promised Lucy it was okay and you sent her home, even if you don’t remember it right now. You must have been convincing, because she knows full well what happened at the Euro and what you are suffering from.

A few minutes later, the front door finally opens to a hesitant Ona. Needless to say, those minutes seemed like hours.

"Where have you been?" you ask a little too aggressively when you turn to her.

"The girls told me you went home with Lucy, so I showered and come home."

Ona's voice was soft as she drops her bag next to the door. You answer nothing, content yourself with a sarcastic snort. Of course, they were on her side. Could you blame them? No, obviously not. They knew Ona and also knew she deserved better than you.

"Maybe if you had been less busy with your friend, you would have seen me leave."

The sentence was scathing, filled with bitter sarcasm. The quotation marks you used with your fingers when you said the word "friend" might have been funny if it wasn’t so dramatic.

"What are you talking about, Bebita?"

Ona approaches you and tries to place a hand on your arm, but you quickly release her contact.

"Don’t fucking touch me."

An alarm siren has been on for a few minutes in your head, but you ignore it prodigiously. The sensations you feel in your belly are such that you wonder by what miracle you haven't vomited yet.

"By the way, what are you doing here? You should have gone to your bitch’s house, probably had a better night than here with me. Isn’t it what she told you?"

Despite your accusatory tone, Ona has the merit of not getting upset. But you’d rather see her yell at you than see her eyes filled with tears.

"You talk nonsense. Listen, everybody’s worried about you, you haven’t been yourself for a while. Maybe... Maybe you should ask someone for help?"

Tears roll down her cheeks and it’s too much for you. Ona should not have to cry because of you, she is the sweetest, kindest and simply the most perfect girl on earth. The reaction you have, by contrast, is probably the stupidest possible. Trying to push her away from you is probably not the best thing. And yet.

"Not yours anyway. I don’t need you."

"Y/N..."

"No, Ona. The truth is, it’s not that I don’t need you, it’s that I don’t want you here."

You found yourself screaming without even realizing it and the silence that ensued was like death. You may never be able to erase Ona’s expression from your mind. After these few seconds suspended, Ona turns the heels and disappears through the front door of your apartment.

*************

You didn’t hear from Ona in the next days, but it would have been complicated anyway since you threw your phone against a wall shortly after she left, with some other things. Then, you spent your nerves on the cushions of the sofa in your living room before falling into tears when you saw the photos that Ona had taken the habit of hanging on a wire held with tweezers above your television.

Ona didn’t come back either, but that didn’t surprise you. You ruined everything, like every time. Someone knocked on your door several times but you didn't answer, staying motionless, lying on the floor of your kitchen or prostrated in your bathroom. You knew perfectly well that it wasn’t Ona, if it had been her she would have opened the door.

After the game against Atletico, you had two days off and you imagine that your lack of response didn't intrigue many people. Given the fight you had with your girlfriend, they must think you don’t want to see anyone. Girlfriend? Ex, maybe. You don’t know anymore.

On the day you resume training, you completely lost track of time. Daylight then street lights illuminate your ceiling and change the vision of things, but that’s about all you see. You didn’t eat, you didn’t drink, and you couldn’t tell how long you slept. The pain, the emotions have gradually given way to a general anesthesia thanks to which you no longer feel anything. Physically as well as emotionally.

The evening of the day of the resumption of training, you are awakened by the door of your apartment that opens while you were lying in the floor of your kitchen. The footsteps are too heavy for it to be Ona. You don’t even turn your head, too absorbed by the images projected on the ceiling.

"Bloody hell Y/N, what the fuck?!"

Alessia.

Your best friend appears in your field of vision and watches you with a mixture of fair and relief. What is she doing here?

"I came to see if you were still alive, you idiot. Everyone is freaking out and thinks you’re drowning in your bathtub."

You hadn't realized that your thoughts had been spoken aloud.

"It might be better."

Your voice is a whispers. Alessia looks at you from her height and ends up lying next to you, on the cold tiled floor of the apartment you shared with Ona. A few minutes passed and Alessia ended up speaking again.

"You’re in a terrible state. And I’m not talking about your physique."

You don’t answer. You know that.

"You need help, Y/N"

She takes your hand in her and you take a deep breath and close your eyes. You know that, too. But just because you need it doesn’t mean you want it.

"Where is Ona?"

"At Alexia’s."

You imagined that the Latin girl had gone to live with someone else, but during these three days you had imagined her at Menayo's. Knowing that she wasn’t relieves you, even if talking about her lights a flame in your throat that you can’t swallow.

"I've lost her"

It’s not a question you ask Alessia, it’s a statement you make out loud. The blonde sighs and turns her head in your direction. You imagine her thoughts very well, she deserves better than what you are. (Spoiler bis : This isn't what Alessia thinks for a second)

"I’m going to get you out of this apartment and you’re going to go into a place to really heal yourself. Then we’ll see what we can fix."

Except, you don’t want to. Regaining some energy, you shake your head and sit down abruptly and grab her arm.

"No. Don’t make me go to one of these centers, I beg you, Less, please. I’ll do whatever you want."

Your despair seems to touch your best friend, who hesitates, looking at you. She also sat down and bite her lips. You whisper one last plea and she sighs as she passes a hand through her hair.

"At least I’ll take you to the hospital. Maybe they’ll keep you for a few days, but as soon as you get out, I need you to swear to me that you’ll follow your treatment and go to a psychiatrist. It’s not a shame, if you knew how many players should do it too. No one will love you less because you get treatment."

*********

You stay four days in the hospital and Alessia stayed with you until the third day. From there she had to go back to London and you almost threw her out. You refuse that she has any professional difficulties because of you. Your visits are regulated and you had to choose four unique names. Alessia, Lucy, Alexia and Ona. The latter has still not come to see you and you hesitated for a long time before adding her to your list. In the meantime, Alessia had your phone repaired but you weren’t allowed to use it until the last day.

The club masked your absence at training by mentioning an ankle injury, thanks to Lucy’s responsiveness no one noticed your trouble in the last game. Plus, if you have to miss several weeks, it will not seem too surprising. It’s a relief for you, even if you agreed to get treatment, you don’t want the general public to know about it for the moment. Maybe later.

Since you can’t contact Ona by text or phone, you decided to write her a letter. Alexia promised to give it to her, but you are aware that this doesn't mean that she will read it. You often ask your captain about Ona. You know she sleeps at Alexia's sometimes, your's or her parent's. On the third day, you asked Alexia if she thought Ona would come to see you here. Hoping to see her figure walk through the door to find you with one of your three friends was sometimes difficult.

"She needs time" Alexia replied.

You noded, knowing it was perfectly selfish of you to want her here. In your letter, you apologized at length for your behavior and explained everything that happened to you in the last few days. And you told her how much you miss her, too. The discussions you had with the hospital psychiatrist also helped you a lot.

"Have you ever thought about quitting football?"

"What?! Of course not. Football was the reason I met the most important people in my life. It’s the only area where I’m not too bad."

She thought for a few seconds before continuing.

"Okay. But the way you throw yourself under the bus with every goal you take, it’s not healthy. We have to find a solution so that you stop living every goal as a failure."

That was the crux of the problem, unfortunately. But with your new treatment, which you were taking with attention this time, it seemed that you could be a little more optimistic.

***********

On day four, you were allowed out in the late afternoon. In the morning, you were able to get your phone back and with Lucy by your side you turned it on. The number of notifications was such that it crashed and you had to turn it back on. You received countless messages before and after your hospitalization. Ona’s were the hardest to read, of course. After you were hospitalized, she stopped writing to you and the first thing you did was look for her social media accounts. Since the game, she hasn’t posted anything.

You then replied to some of the messages you received, to Alessia or some of your teammates for example. Family and friends, too. With your psychiatrist, you decided to limit social media. So you have removed Twitter from your phone, limited comments on your Instagram posts and your TikTok account is only used to watch videos anyway. You never posted anything with it.

It was Alexia who came to pick you up at your exit and it was good to breathe a little fresh air. You climbed into her car, realizing soon after that she was not going to your apartment or hers.

"Where are we going?"

Curiosity outweighed anxiety, but you didn’t ask yourself where you were going. A look in her direction is enough to remove you from the head she was taking you straight to a rehabilitation center. This treatment was truly miraculous.

"You will see"

The answer was simple, but addressed with a smile that relaxed you quickly. It didn't stop your curiosity but when you left the city, you understood before even arriving at the destination. Alexia was taking you to Villassar de Mar, Ona’s hometown.

"Will I see her?" you asked after a few minutes

Alexia replied with a simple nod, startling when she saw you suddenly stand up on your seat.

"I can’t see her like that, look how dressed I am"

Alexia’s gaze slipped on your clothes, jeans and a sweatshirt that you just stole from Ona. You obviously took a shower before going out, but still. You are far from perfect.

"We don’t care Y/N, really"

"At least let me buy her flowers"

Alexia roll her eyes, but she smiled and stopped at the shop you mentioned to her. This is Ona’s favorite, in one of the villages close to her parent's. On your first date she stopped by and gave you a bouquet of mixed flowers. She told you that she didn’t know which flowers you preferred but that she found those very beautiful.

Needless to say, you opted for the same bouquet.

Arriving in Villassar de Mar, Alexia doesn't take you to your in-laws as you had imagined. She drops you off near one of the beaches full of memories for Ona and you. The windy weather took everyone away from the beach, except for a silhouette that you would recognize between a thousand. Sitting against one of the rocks that delimits the small cove, Ona looks towards the horizon.

When you see her, you feel a form of stress taking hold of you, but different from the anxiety that persisted in recent weeks. You bite your lips before feeling Alexia's arm around your shoulder, taking you for an hug.

"You’ve come a long way Y/N. We’re all very proud of you."

You don’t need to look her in the eye to check the sincerity of her words and you offer her a shy smile. With that, she gently pushes you towards the beach and you slowly break the distance between Ona and you, playing nervously with the stems of the flowers that you hold in your hands.

The wind blows a little, blowing Ona’s hair. Arriving at one meter behind her, you are not sure that she heard you. You let a few moments pass during which you take the opportunity to look at her. She looks tired, not to say exhausted. A new wave of guilt takes hold of you and you take one last step before reporting your presence.

"Hi"

She gently turns her gaze towards you and the strength of your feelings for her hits you hard.

"Hi"

She answers you gently and after a few seconds a slight smile appears on her lips. His eyes run through your face and you clear your throat before raising the flowers in her direction, a little embarrassed.

"It’s for you. They’re beautiful, but not as beautiful as you?"

Ona laughs softly, but you see her hands shake when she grabs the bouquet to carry it to her nose and breathe the smell.

"Is that a question?" she asks over the flowers.

"No but pickup lines were never my thing. You do look beautiful though" you just answer without taking your eyes off her. "I missed you."

"I miss you too, but…"

You step forward to interrupt her, not wanting to hear what she is hiding behind this "but".

"No, Ona, please listen to me." You wait until she nods before continuing. "I’m really, really sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, scream at you, or make you cry. I will do anything if you give me another chance. I know it sounds like a creepy guy with dozens of red flags, but I swear I’ll do better than I’ve done so far."

The Latin looks at you while you speak before sighing gently and letting her gaze float in the wave. She seems to look for her words and you let her do it, looking at her face with intensity. You realize that this may be the last time you see her, you want to immerse yourself in her as much as possible.

"If continue together Y/N, I want you to promise to really heal yourself. I couldn’t stand a second time watching you self-destruct like you did."

"I swear. I’ll do it for you. For us."

You mean it sincerely and the strength of your answer seems to surprise Ona. It must be said that you have seemed unsure of anything lately. She looks at you for a long time and you let her do it, a little embarrassed. Your eyes find their path to your shoes.

"Why are you always so shy?"

Ona’s amused tone surprises you and in a second your gaze is back on her.

"What do you mean?"

"You never knew how to handle compliments, you always blush when I look at you, you roll your eyes at me when I tell you that I find you beautiful…"

You retain a grimace of extreme accuracy, but you are convinced that Ona has realized it. You answer her however, shrugging you shoulders. If there is a time when you have to be honest with each other, it's now.

"I never understood what you found in me from the beginning. I thought you weren’t as interested in me as I was in you and that the long-distance relationship suited you. To be honest with you, I was looking to have the most of you until you realized there are other girls that are much more interesting than me."

Ona frowns and gets ready to speak, but you raise your hand to ask her to let you continue. Now that you’ve started, you need to clear your head.

"I was always convinced that you would find someone better than me at some point, someone joyful who would make you happier. Last week when you started crying because me, I just wanted you to leave so you wouldn’t be sad. Nothing else in the world matters more than you and your happiness to me. I’m sorry I showed you so badly, I’m sorry I wasn’t up to it, for making you cry and for making you go through hell. I’ve only been sure of one thing in all this fog since this summer, it’s the strength of my feelings for you. I really want to build something serious together. You’re the love of my life, Ona."

It was random, probably said in a completely disorderly way, but it was totally sincere. You find yourself a little breathless after your tirade and you look carefully at Ona. She also seems to be breathless and a few seconds pass, only disturbed by the sound of the waves behind you. You realize that when she speaks again, she has tears in her eyes.

"You're enough Y/N. I promise you're enough"

She whispers but approaches you to take your face in her two hands. It is a tender gesture and you feel a pleasant warmth at the precise place where her skin is in contact with yours.

"And I love you too. We’ll get through this together. I promise."

You smile softly and nod at her answer. After these long monologues, you find yourself a little short of words.

"No more lies or secrets?" said Ona.

"No more lies or secrets."

A new smile exchanged before your lips finally meet, sealing your promises of eternity. Because she loves you as much as you do. And it will be forever you and her.

[paradoxxinvader]

DITTO - do you want somebody? like i want somebody?

pairing :: riki x fem!idol!reader

genre :: idol au, written + some smau when needed, unrequited love (just not in the way you think), strangers to something, fluff, angst, flipped one-sided love !!

synopsis :: yn, the leader of girl group trio ATTRACTION, has a major crush on ENHYPEN’s maknae, nishimura riki, since before her debut in 2022. she related to him, confided in his photocards, and befriended the idea of him, so much so that she fell in love with someone who barely knew of her. when she debuts under the same label as him, HYBE, the tables start to turn when she starts to realize that who he is isn’t the same person she fell in love with, all while nishimura riki starts to fall for her. what could possibly go wrong?

warnings :: parasocial relationships, kys/kms jokes, my horrible humor, will be unnecessarily dramatic, and idk more will be added for chapter specifics !!

featuring :: all of enha, hanni and minji from newjeans (as face claims), some txt, some le serrafim (more will be added later one !!!)

status :: ON HOLD UNTIL AUGUST 2023 !

taglist (open!) :: @acousticking @mitsukifilms @hyem1ngyu @loveliii @ahnneyong @azngamis-blog @hanniluvi @heesitation @brahms-heelshit@mirakura @adeolalily13 @sunoozz @enwlrd @3chae @bucketofhiros @ilovewonyo @jaxavance @calijimenez @adajoemaya @judeduartwannabe @heartwonder @wonypop @dimplewonie @coalalalinha  @rikimylove @jamaisunoo @sd211 @aki1e @asapia @simeonswhore @bougiesunoo @hatdugin @cass1814 @ilvsoup @nia-xxx @byhsng @soobnism @futuristicpiepsychicalmond @nuoyishi @akashisthighs @facelesswrittes @tinie03 @noiacha @mmaplepastries @curly-fr13s @sweetjaemss @lcv3lies @nikiluvs @urszn @kittyeij @jeonsy98 @sserafimez @j-wyoung @tya0 @stinkoscope @sumarchived @belovedxiao @gardenofriki @belovedxiao @jeonsy98 @tya0​ @hermvse​ @zuyairus​ @belovedxiao​ @stinkoscope @sumarchived @belovedxiao @gardenofriki @ethereal-ari @wanna-live-yn-life​ @ineedaherosavemeenow​​ @wooaheee (CLOSING SOON)

speaks :: hello everyone !!! welcome to my first fic !!! i’m very excited for this one, because i think it’s a pretty good idea + i’m in love with newjeans and ditto so yay !!! this will be starting very soon, hopefully in a week or two, but i’m not completely sure, because school and all :( however, i will be writing very soon and will write a bunch of chapters before publishing !!! pls keep in mind that english isn’t my first language, so there will definitely be a bunch of spelling and grammar issues, so sorry about that hehe

profiles ...

ATTRACTION? MORE LIKE ATTRACT-SHUN !!!!

EPIPEN

FRENS !!!! AND MORE

chapters ...

prologue - the debut

chapter one - stay in the middle

chapter two - like you a little

chapter three - don’t want no riddle

official playlists ...

DITTO

PHOTOREALISTIC

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

am I the asshole for being kinda mean.

I know the title sounds kinda bad off the bat but I don't really have another way of describing it.

I (19NB) struggle a lot with mental health issues. I won't go in detail, but I have autism and bpd. I grew up in a culture that does NOT like discussing these things, and my parents don't believe that my mental health issues are real. Because of this I've developed kind of a complex about talking about my mental health, I know it's unhealthy but I don't actually repress it, it's just a case of I don't like to tell friends (online or in person) anything about my mh at all until I'm sure I can trust them. I also really dislike "therapy speak", mainly bc I've had it weaponised against me in the past, though I recognise it is sometimes an important tool. Another final bit of context is that I did not use any social media at all up until 2022 after having not used socials since I was around 12, due to mh reasons.

I joined a fandom space I'd been casually lurking in since 2019 as an attempt to break into creating art in 2022. At first, everything was smooth sailing. I made a close knit group of friends fast, and everything was all good. Then, out of the blue one day, a friend of mine posted something that was quite triggering to me. It could've played as a joke but also used dark humor I found triggering. Now, one issue I have is that when I get triggered, rather than getting upset or panicky, I usually first get angry, then later deal with those symptoms. I snapped at this friend, then apologised and left the server, saying I didn't want to risk saying anything stupid.

I was dmed by multiple friends of mine telling me I had been horrible to them and made them cry . I don't think I said anything horrible. I think my words were close to "Hey, that's a fucked up thing to laugh at, and actually very fucking triggering for some of us lol" Passive aggressive and a bit mean? Sure. But I apologised almost immediately and I didn't think it was anything to cry over. One friend dmed me to tell me that "humor was their coping mechanism" and I "disrespected their coping mechanism". I attempted to explain that their joke had been triggering to me and that's why I reacted the way I did . Around 5 people dmed me at once while I was in a vulnerable state to tell me that I was being horrible and they couldn't believe I was so mean. I tried to distract myself, but people were getting mad at me for going offline, and it upset me so much.

One of my friends, A, who is from my country texted me to defend me, saying everyone who is mad are just Americans and I agreed bc I felt that way. They seemed like they were only taking into account this person's feelings because they were openly crying and like. Not playing victim but being more vulnerable than I was? This person talked about their mental health often and people would comfort them, but as soon as I was triggered and lashed out it was my fault for being horrible? I ended up apologising, since I really did feel bad for snapping at them, I really just didn't think it was that big of a deal. Some of those people never spoke to me again and I never rejoined the discord. A and I made our own discord later that some of the people who still talked to me joined and we are still friends.

What are these acronyms?

[sgiandubh]

It all starts with a smoke alarm

This wasn't supposed to happen like that, of course. It was supposed to happen with an ”allow me to introduce myself”, at the least. But hey, I am playing the cards I've been dealt, and since an anonymous ask on Tumblr does not allow pictures or links, this will have to do. We'll have plenty of time later.

Yesterday, I said that reading that Single Report reaped benefits. I have screen capped and summed up all the things that made me rise an eyebrow, to make things easier. Hopefully, this is going to be short: who would wax lyrical about a septic tank, after all?

I did not use my superpowers to do this, but simply the link provided by a very active Anon on several shipper blogs, in order to properly stir shite, I presume: https://corumproperty.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2023/05/HomeReport-31.pdf

Armed with my wits and a virtual highlighter, I started to carefully read the whole document. Ownership details aside - this, I discussed yesterday -, I remind you that it should give any prospective buyer a good, detailed idea of the available fittings and current condition of the house put on sale.

In Europe and elsewhere, I guess, inspections of this type are rather a dull and thorough affair. And these people did an excellent job: they checked every single nook & cranny, used binoculars to have a closer look at the roof tiles and listed it all on these papers a good researcher should read, before dropping to conclusions.

This is how we know, for example, that the inspection happened on a rainy day:

.. and that the guttering was overflowing. Does that sound like a well loved, lived-in house to you?

Thought so.

This brought a smile. And the image of a Christmas tree left near a London dustbin in June. Home, sweet home?

Like all properties, this also comes with burglar and fire alarm systems. However, apparently not much has been done, in this respect. Or at least, not recently. Not since February 2022, to be accurate: otherwise, they would have been upgraded. Yet, no such thing: it's up to the buyer to do and pay for the upgrade.

Lived-in? Certainly not after February 2022 and probably even earlier, would be my best guess. But lived-in at some point in time, most certainly.

You see, since I was on the real estate agent's webpage, I also took the virtual tour of the house. It is available to everyone, here: https://my.matterport.com/show/?m=AFKibrk8QiD

Now, I don't know about you, but when I visit somebody's house for the first time, I always check the bookshelves: yes, I am a shameless nerd. I am also well aware that the rest of the furniture was staged, it looked that sad, clinical way it does all over the world. Did not expect to find any books in there, to be honest. And yet, there they were.

I didn't bother with the fashion coffee table books, although I thought they were a nice nod to Ms. B's past, and totally the kind of things she might have on her credenza.

A built-in bookshelf in the basement caught my eye. That did not look staged. It looked as she might have left some of her own books in there, like an afterthought, if you want. And people's choices of books are always speaking volumes to me, about who they really are.

It did not disappoint.

More fash-un. And yeah, Tiffany & Co! I knew it!

A Tina Turner bio or memoir. Awww:

Bette Davis and some feminist literature. Her books, I am pretty sure of that:

And, to save the best for last, lo and behold, what do we have here?

Bear Grylls?

That Bear Grylls?

Hahahaha. Of course. I have all the reasons in the world to believe the music producer/PA/whatever is into masculine thrillers written by a world-renowned survivalist, haven't I?

Not a chance in hell, to be honest. I grinned like the Cheshire cat because, ladies, we do know WHOSE book is this, don't we?

Judging by its jacket, well-read. Not a prop.

Belonging to someone with a dry, wicked sense of humor who apparently also left this gem:

A Captain's Duty. At this point in time, I wasn't grinning anymore. I was laughing like an idiot, of course.

Slàinte mhath, ladies. We'll have time for a proper introduction later.

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Vegas With Jack Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

ps every vegas pinterest photo was girls popping off in dresses and heals etc so i used my own from dec 2022 lmao

p.s.s. i high key hate this my humor was not vibing today but i’m prop overthinking it. lmk what you think! (and sorry it’s so short)

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, and 9,609 others

yourusername what happens in vegas stays in vegas! except not for jacky boy and i, because we’re blabbers!

core memory alert! this was the best mid-week spontaneous vegas trip i’ve been on, and playing at the big girl black jack tables with jack is definitely a memory i’ll cherish forever. i love you lots jacky boy<3

p.s. dear quinner, this was not me and jack betting with each other, and this was not us having side bets. this was gambling! huge difference! and it was a blast!

tagged jackhughes

view all 213 comments

jackhughes i love you too, y/n/n ❤️ ps why is everyone else baby and i’m jacky boy???

yourusername because you’re special

jackhughes you’re not joking go back to joking

yourusername because you’re like the raisin bran of all my friends

trevorzegras HA

user1 OH MY GOD IT WAS MY COMMENT SAYING JACK AND Y/N ARE THE TYPE OF DUO TO RUN OFF TO VEGAS AND THEY DID

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras tell me this isn’t real

trevorzegras i cannot i helped book their hotel

yourusername it was pink!!

jackhughes i took good care of her don’t worry

yourusername that’s true, he did! it was kinda sweet actually

_quinnhughes and how much money did you two spend?

yourusername it was definitely some money

jackhughes 100% positive it was a numerical amount

user2 y/n not in fancy clothes gambling in vegas is so real

jamie.drysdale DEFINE taking good care of my wife/z’s gf/quinn’s best friend?

jackhughes i walked on the outside of the street, held her hand or had my arm around her while we were outside, bought her that pink hat to help me spot her easier if we got separated, held her hair back when she had one too many daiquiris, and gave her cuddles when she asked

trevorzegras @/jackhughes you did good jacky

jamie.drysdale @/jackhughes you’re a saint (pun intended)

_quinnhughes @/jackhughes i’ll forgive you two for running off because of how good you were to her. thank you rowdy

jackhughes DID YOU GUYS ASSUME I’D BE TERRIBLE???? SHE’S IMPORTANT TO ME

yourusername @/jackhughes sap

user3 i think we’re in an alternate universe i never see y/n and jack being sweet to each other

trevorzegras please tell me you two didn’t get married in vegas as a joke

yourusername how dare you accuse me of cheating on jamie?! hubbies before jackies!

trevorzegras @/yourusername you’re right so sorry for questioning your loyalty

jamie.drysdale son you be respectful to your mother!

trevorzegras i still hate that joke

user4 how am i expected to be calm about this

user5 i don’t want what y/n and trevor/jamie/quinn have. i want a y/n and jack type of friendship

lhughes_06 how did you two pull this off in a week

yourusername my boyfriend’s not the only one who’s magic lukey baby

lhughes_06 MOM that’s not my y/n nickname

yourusername *lukey moosey

_quinnhughes terrible mother alert

yourusername @_quinnhughes TAKE IT BACK QUINTIN

lhughes_06 @_quinnhughes don’t talk about my mom like that

edwards.73 @_quinnhughes yeah don’t talk about our mom like that!!!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername HOW MANY CHILDREN DO WE HAVE

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale these two are mine and mine only

jackhughes even i knew about these two smh

[httpknjoon]

what a week! | the a-listers finale

plot | Get ready. This is the busiest, craziest, and most intriguing week ever in your fandom with you coming back to the Hollywood scene with a bang, causing more tweets, more memes, and maybe drama about you and Jin.

words | 4.8k (oh my god)

genres | humor/crack, fluff, angst, actors!au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

note | usernames used in the fic are all fictional. (more note at the end) have fun reading!

main masterlist | drabble series

Hollywood Superstar YN to Make Comeback on Her Saturday Night Live Hosting Debut This December 2

‘From The Other Side’ actress and producer, YN will host NBC’s Emmy-winning live comedy show, Saturday Night Live for the first time this Saturday after her hiatus last year.

It was announced through social media today that the Oscar-nominated actress will make her hosting debut on the show this coming Saturday.

Along with YN, Indonesian singer-songwriter NIKI will also be having her SNL debut as the musical guest of the night.

It is worth mentioning that this will be YN's comeback in front of the cameras after taking an unexpected break in April 2022. She pulled out from projects with other big personalities from Hollywood such as Chris Evans and director, Wes Anderson. 

Fans were instantly delighted by the news and expressed their joy over Twitter, with YN’s name being listed on worldwide trends almost immediately after the announcement. 

@/YNUpdates: YN is set to make an appearance on The Tonight Show this coming Wednesday.

Not even an hour after the announcement of your appearance on the live television show, your appearance on Jimmy Fallon’s show was also reported. You also acknowledge your SNL gig by sharing the post on your Instagram Stories. To say your fans were excited was an understatement.

@/uronurownkid: OH YM GOD SHE’S BACK LIKE REALLY BACK

@/l0verynjin: and this is a live show!! We’ll be seeing her on skits again!

@/ynflowerkid: with NIKI as the musical guest???? my two worlds are coming together

Everyone– the fans and the press– truly hyped up the upcoming show, prompting even the general audience to be aware. Some critics shared that you might be able to bring high ratings for the show because of your large and active fanbase. Success was already expected for you and the show.

“Everyone, please welcome, YN!”

You enter through the big blue curtains, wearing a classy Gianni Versace Couture black long bell-sleeve dress from the 90s. You were looking like complete royalty with the matching diamond necklace and earrings you wore as you had your hair in a sleek low bun. The audience welcomed you with cheers and you cannot help but be surprised by everyone’s reaction.

“Oh, wow…” you mumbled, Turning your eyes from the audience to the host.

“Wow, right? That’s a lot of love.” Jimmy said, which you nodded at.

“Yeah, this is a little overwhelming… in a good way,” you said which made everyone laugh. Before you turned and waved to the viewers again, “Hi, everyone!”

They began cheering in response. You giggled with their enthusiasm. 

“This is what you get for suddenly taking a break last year!” Jimmy said, using a stern, sarcastic tone.

You chuckled with that, “This is actually great! Maybe I should take unexpected hiatus every once in a while–”

“No, no, no.” Jimmy cut you off, more worried, holding your hand that rests on his table. You two instantly laughed. “We missed you a lot!”

“So… you’ll be hosting Saturday Night Live for this week…” he began.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” you nod as you shifted in your seat.

“How was it? How does it feel?”

“Oh, it feels really awesome! I’ve been wanting to host for a long time now since I loved the show ever since I was little. And I was really nervous at first when I showed up there. But everyone has been pretty nice and so talented. Everyone works so fast.” you shared, making the viewers laugh. “I’m not kidding! I was with the cast and Lorne Michaels in his office. Then, they asked me if I have any sketch ideas. After I shared mine, everyone just started to pitch like a hundred sketches and I was just sitting there, watching everyone collaborate. It’s amazing to see.”

“Yeah, that’s how it goes in the show.” Jimmy agreed. “It’s the best crew up there. The writers, the cast, the makeup and hair crew.”

“They are all wonderful,” you added.

“Yes. And you are going to be fantastic this weekend. Knock ‘em dead in Studio 8H. We’ll be watching.” he clapped and the audience cheered. Your lips form into a smile as you felt relief growing in your chest. 

Jimmy continued as the applause lies low, “The last time you were here, we were talking about your then-upcoming film, From The Other Side. And now, you got nominations for it and even won a BAFTA’s Best Actress last February! Congratulation on that. You deserve it.”

Everyone clapped while you smiled, “Thank you.”

“And your director, Emerald Fennell, read your speech for you. In which you state that she made you make that speech hours before the ceremony?!”

“Ah, yes.” you chortled. “I wasn’t expecting to win that night. I mean, the lineup of other nominees for that category that night was really incredible. So I didn’t bother to write anything. But Em really pushed me to send something. She always believed in me and knew that I have a chance in winning that award. So I just texted her anything I could think of and said I love Brandon Fraser.”

The conclusion at the end made Jimmy and the audience laugh.

“I mean, who doesn’t?” the host backed you up. “Then, Academy Awards came by March and everyone was expecting you’ll show up. But during the red carpet event, you posted this…”

Jimmy showed a snapshot of you playing the piano. You grinned, “I did. I’ve been learning to play the piano since last year and I know my supporters are waiting for me. So I just showed them I’m at home so they won’t wait up.”

“That’s nice and you were really good with the piano.” Jimmy compliments. “But can we talk about your hiatus?”

You pause and nod. Now, this is the part Hailey gave you a heads-up on. You were aware that your unanticipated break will be talked about tonight. Your manager gave you a guide on how the show and host will discuss everything in order. 

Jimmy, on the flip side, was told earlier by his producers that he can ask about it. Admittedly, he was confused and worried if you knew that you were going to be interviewed about your break since everyone knows you have been private for the past couple of years. He doesn’t want to cause any discomfort to his guests. When he confirmed that you agreed with the topic of tonight’s interview, he agreed to discuss it with guide questions from his writers.

“Yeah, sure.”

The tension was rising in the room at the moment you replied. It was dead silent. But what made it lighter was when the production crew chose to play things off by setting the spotlight just on you two, making it seem like an interrogation scene. It made everyone laugh, even you and Jimmy.

“So… people were saying you took a break last year because of a lot of things.” the host spoke, emphasizing the word.

“Oh, yeah. I heard about it.” you raised an eyebrow. “How about let’s play a game of true or false with those headline rumors?”

The audience cheered with excitement. This is a rare time a big celebrity would debunk or confirm news about them personally.

“Okay, okay. Let's start with this one…” Jimmy reads, “True or false. YN, are you planning to retire from acting really soon?”

“False, Jimmy! I’m hosting SNL this week for goodness’ sake,” you answered dramatically. The host laughed.

“She’s hosting SNL this week, people!” he repeated, looking at the camera. “How about this one? YN, true or false, did you move away from the country and lived in South Korea for a year?”

You grinned, “Partially true.”

“Explain yourself, YN.”

“Okay, the only thing that was right in that rumor is that I did move.” you teased everyone. “And no, I am not telling where.”

“Understood. Okay, let’s move to another one… oooh, this is the most controversial yet.” Jimmy laughed as he looked at you. “True or false, you took an unexpected hiatus because you got into a bad heartbreak.”

The audience’s reaction was all ‘ooh’ in a curious and a little worried way. Like they just saw someone sprinkling salt on someone’s wound. You took your time before answering,

“False,” you replied, shaking your head. “Definitely untrue. I think everyone just knows it when I’m in a relationship.”

“No, I don’t think we do, YN.” Jimmy rebutted, making the viewers laugh as they relate too. With years of everyone romantically connecting you and Jin, they just cannot tell if you two are romantically together or not. The host continued, “But are you not really dating anyone right now?”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m not dating anyone right now…” your voice trailed off as you make a side eye at the audience. They showed their disapproval with that by playfully booing, and you giggled.

He copied your tone and action as he asked, “But is there anyone you’ve been seeing currently or…”

“I don’t know, Jimmy…” you sighed, shaking your head. You acted disappointed in a very obvious way.  “It’s really hard to find someone to date when you’re married. I mean, I think it’s a crime to go out with someone while–”

Big gasps. Everyone in the room– excluding you– gasped at the same time that it was audible. Their eyes were wide, a few have their hands on their chests, and someone screeched in surprise at what you said.

“Wait, what?” Jimmy asked as soon as he picked up what you just said.

“What?” you looked around the room, acting like you didn’t just say something of a big deal. “Oh, yeah. I’m married, you guys!”

Breaking the silence, the band played the drums as you showed off the wedding ring on your finger, hiding below the bell sleeve of your dress. Not just a wedding band, but a blinding engagement ring also sat on top of it. 

“Oh my god! Congratulations!” Jimmy stood up from his swivel chair and walked up to you. You stood up and you shared a hug. He whispered, “Congratulations!”

“This is wonderful!” he added, as he holds both of your arms.

You laughed as you nodded, “I know!”

Everyone laughed while applauding at the fact you are now married. Jimmy hugged you again before walking back to his spot. You can feel your cheeks hurt from how long you have been smiling throughout the interview. But you love it. You love that you finally shared the news with the public.

“When did you get married?” the host asked.

“Two years ago! It was in 2021, Jimmy!” you replied happily and you heard another series of reactions in surprise.

“What?!” Jimmy’s lips gaped. “You were already married when you went here last time?”

You nodded with chuckles, “Yes. My husband and I chose to be pretty private about the whole process. We value enjoying the first couple of years of our marriage without the whole attention of everyone. But now, we decided to share it with you, guys finally!”

“This is really great, YN. Thank you so much for coming to the show.” Jimmy smiled and you can feel that he was genuine. Jimmy turned to the camera again, “YN. Ladies and gentlemen! We’ll be right back.”

The camera still caught you waving to everyone before it cuts to the commercial. With this kind of news, it was expected how everyone will react. Showbiz websites and accounts began writing their articles. Your fans were expressing their emotions and surprise.

@/ynisthatgirl: the fuck you’re telling me yn been married since 2021

@/YNUpdates: Congratulations to our main girl and the lucky guy! 🥰🥰🥰

@/MIDNIGHTPAIN_: BIGGEST PLOT TWIST IN THE YN FANDOM

@/YNJINUpdates: 🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

Replying to @/YNJINUpdates

- @/versaceisyn: what’s with the candles

– @/walkingonsunshine: i think we all know what’re the candles for

@/frannycatfood: but who is the husband though 👀

@/ynilysm: i just woke up…

Linked with you revealing your marital status is the identity of your husband. Everyone began taking their bets on who is your mystery spouse. Of course, topping the list is your three-time co-star and always rumored lover, JIN. One of the most memorable stories in the YNJIN fandom is when you two flew to South Korea with friends back in 2021.

@/outtahere: ur telling me ynjin prolly got married in seoul two years ago?

Then, the theory about you having a secret partner was brought up. Ever since the lockdowns, some people have believed that you are possibly dating someone who is not in Hollywood. They claimed that someone is a successful, private, and young entrepreneur.

It’s no secret that there are people and solo fans who think that you and Jin are only doing the whole ‘dating or not dating’ bit for attention and to keep your names floating on social media and articles. It helped you two become household names in Hollywood, other than your works. You two were everywhere online with your fans making edits, sharing their thoughts, and posting every picture of you. Although accidentally, the general public was always aware of what was going on with you.

And what’s going on with your always rumored lover, you might be wondering. 

Jin is still inactive on social media. His last online update was promoting the final episode of his limited series on HBO, which was a couple of months ago. But he had public appearances since the premiere. Two appearances to be specific.

Friday, almost two days after you announced your marriage and fans made their theories about your husband’s identity. Of course, the number of people who believed that Jin is your spouse was high. They were hoping to see Jin around New York since you will be doing SNL there for the weekend and they will take it as confirmation. But in lieu, he was seen walking out of a coffee shop in LA, where he was kinda hoarded by the press during the morning. He was alone as he tried to make his way to his car.

One of the camera guys cannot help but ask, “Did you know YN is married?”

“I did. She is one of my friends in the industry. Of course, I knew.” he answered simply, not bothering to look at the cameras. He just focused his eyes on the pathway to make sure he won’t stumble because of the press crowding around him.

“Any thoughts about it?” another one asked.

“I’m happy for her. She deserves happiness above all.”

His lips can be seen forming into a small smile as he replied. He finally got to the driver’s seat of his car. Before he hopped in, he answered one last question.

“Any hints about her husband?”

“Nice guy. A little childish sometimes but he makes good jokes.” he chuckled before driving away.

The video was uploaded by the paparazzi on the same day. Jin trended worldwide as fans expressed their thoughts about it.

@/1800JIN: i cannot believe how fast things are going rn this is crazy

@/badnonnie: NOW WHY WOULD HE SAY THAT ABOUT YN’S HUSBAND 💀

@/YNJINUpdates: the first stage of grief is denial. so no, i don’t believe anything that is happening.

@/puhleaseynjin: idk what to feel rn but great to know that jin knows about her marriage after all

Replying to @/puhleaseynjin

- @/livelaughyn: yeah it means they really do trust each other 🙁

And Saturday came. Since you were all over the news the whole week, your name was mentioned during the cold open. Hearing the people’s excitement as you prepare backstage made you breathe a little better. The intro began and the band began playing.

“Thirty seconds left, hon.” one of the staff members, who waits with you behind the door, whispered. “Good luck.”

You smiled at her, “Thank you. Donna.”

And as soon as you send that, you heard the announcer saying:

“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s host, YN!”

That’s your cue. Someone opened the door for you, you walked out and everyone sees you in a black blazer mini dress and strappy pumps. Standing in the middle of the stage, you cannot really see the audience properly because of the light pointed at you. Still, you put on a smile and tried to shake off the twisting feeling in your stomach. You jived to the melody and paused when it stopped. The audience was clapping the whole time.

“Thank you! Thank you very much. I am so happy to be finally here on the SNL stage for the very first time!” you began and they cheered once again. “And it’s great to be here, in front of everyone again, after ghosting y’all for almost two years!” waves of laughter erupt. “ Now, some of you may be heard of me from my first movie when I was 9, Little Miss Sunshine–” people cheered.  “Or my most recent film, From The Other Side. Or maybe you just heard a piece of certain news about me…” you winked.

“So in case you’re living under a rock, three days ago, I surprised everyone by announcing that I got married–” the audience erupted with claps and cheers. “–last 2021 to an actual person that nobody knows about.” you rolled your eyes, making everyone laugh.

“And every cast member here has been asking me this past few days: how did you got married? Where did you get married? Who’s the lucky guy? And you know what, let me just go give him a call–”

The audience screamed in excitement. You tapped on your dress’s pockets, searching for your phone. SNL cast member Kenan Thompson got on stage, handing you your phone.

“Hey, YN. You left your phone in the makeup chair.”

“Oh, thanks, Kenan.”

“And since I was the one who found it… can you please tell me who is your husband?” he said it in an excited kid way that made everyone cackle.

You tsked before shaking your head, “Oh, Keenan–”

A series of knocks were heard. A familiar tune from your past suspense movie played in the background. The audience laughed as you and Keenan looked at each other with wide eyes. You slipped your phone into your pocket and began acting alert like a spy.

“Does someone really knocks on that door?” you asked in the serious tone of your old character.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know. You were the last one who went from there.” 

The audience laughed and another knock was heard.

“Lemme go check on that.” Kenan was about to walk to the door but you stopped him.

“What if it’s The Creator?” you asked, referencing the antagonist.

“Who the hell is that? The only creator here is Lorne Michaels.” Kenan quipped, receiving laughs from everyone, before walking to the door.

You waited on the stage and the camera focused on Kenan, who peeked through the door instead of opening it directly. He was teasing. Then, he looked back to you, to the camera, and back to whoever was on the other side of the door. He was grinning. Everyone was wondering what was going on. It was just pure silence. And as he walked down the small set of steps, he spoke:

“Oh, YN! Someone is looking for you!”

You raised an eyebrow, “Who is it–”

Then suddenly the door just opens, showing a man in a dark casual suit and a bouquet of white tulips in his hands. He uttered,

“Hi, I’m actually looking for my wife–” 

Jin was cut off by screams from the audience. He bit his inner cheek to stop himself from smiling. But everyone can notice the corner of his lips forming into a smile. In live shows like this, the actor would usually wait for the intense audience response to die down for a few seconds. But the reactions are not getting smaller, so Jin resumed.

 

“She told me she’s going here tonight.”

“Oh, I’m here! I’m here! I’m the wife!”

You raised your hand with a proud grin on your face and Jin had to walk down with a bouquet in his hand. The audience laughed as the band plays a wedding march. Your husband laughs too. When you two stood next to each other in the middle of the stage, Keenan introduced you two:

“Everyone, please welcome, for the first time ever as a married couple, YN and Jin!”

The audience clapped, cheered, and somebody even whistled. He softly placed his hand on the small of your back before you turned to him. Your hand caresses his cheek as you two lean closer to each other. For the first time ever, you and Jin shared a kiss in front of the public. Everyone cheered louder. Pulling away, you two smiled slowly as you gazed into each other’s eyes. You noticed the slight tint of red growing on his cheeks and ears. It reminded you of so many moments in your relationship. It was like you got lost in the moment for a second before you turn to the camera.

“We got a great show tonight! Stick around. NIKI is here! We’ll be right back!”

The camera pans away as you wrapped your arms around Jin’s neck, pulling him in for a kiss again, while he holds your waist. 

You did a total of eight skits, two of which were pretaped. Your husband made another appearance during the show. He played a character with Michael Che, Colin Jost, and Mikey Day during the Weekend Update segment, playing as paparazzi who never did their job right. Jin had a line that was so ironic, it made the audience laugh and react from their seats.

“Yeah, last week, I heard that very beautiful actress got married…”

Michael asked, in character, amidst the giggles, “Who? What’s her name?”

“I think he’s talking about Scarlett Johansson.” Mikey chimed in, making Colin Jost smile, who replies, “No, I don’t think he’s not.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot she already married that comedy guy three years ago.” Mikey replied, making Jost shake his head as he blush.

Jin finally answered, “It’s YN! You know, the one who posts cat pics all over the internet, won the BAFTA Best Actress this year, has been doing movies since she was nine, wrote songs with–”

“Okay, okay, Frank. I think everyone already knows who YN is.” Mikey cuts him off, making everyone laugh. “Why are you bringing her up by the way? Do you got any snaps from her wedding?”

“Ah, yes. I do!” Jin replied almost immediately as he acts clicking on his camera. The audience squealed, elated to catch a glimpse of whatever he was going to share. The TV screens in the studio glitched, causing confusion to the viewers. “Oh, I think my camera’s broken.”

“Let me see.” Mikey, in character, acted desperate as he reached for the camera. He checked and clicked on it before turning to Jin, “The memory card is not here, man!”

The bit ended with them arguing. NIKI performed two songs for the night. For the closing of the show, you had a graphic shirt on with pants. 

“Thank you so much to NIKI!” you began, turning to the singer beside you. You clapped along with the audience.  “To Lorne, to the amazing cast and studio crew…. And to my lovely husband,” everyone, including the cast members, cooed. You looked back at him who was standing in line with the cast members. He smiled as he saw your eyes sparkling with joy. You looked back to the front.

“Thank you so much, everyone!”

After the show, you and Jin were photographed together, walking hand in hand, as you enter the afterparty venue. As usual, you were wearing something Versace. You stun everyone with a light-reflecting metallic sparkly mini dress. It literally reflects with the flashes of the cameras pointed at you and your husband. You matched it with silver strappy heels and a small metallic Prada tote bag.

“Congrats, YN!”

You stopped in your tracks and turned your head when you heard that voice. Turning around, you spotted Greg in line with other paparazzi.

“Thanks, Greg!” you winked and Jin also waves at him.

You also posted a photo a day after.

YN and JIN are married *Apparently For Almost Two Years Now*

It’s been a busy week for the whole YNJIN fandom this week! 

Just last week’s Saturday, it was announced that YN will be hosting the second show for SNL’s season 49. More than a year after her last public appearance and hiatus.  It was later followed by the actress-songwriter appearance on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, in which she talked about her BAFTA win and cleverly announced her marriage. Although she didn’t disclose who’s the lucky guy, happiness was evident on her face as she replied to Jimmy’s questions. The fans were taken in surprise by the news, showering her with lovely congratulatory messages.

And just tonight, during her monologue as the show’s host, YN finally revealed who it was. Surprise, surprise! Joining her on the SNL stage is her longtime rumored lover, JIN. The ‘Still Alive’ actor showed up on stage unexpectedly, causing a loud reaction from the live viewers. SNL cast member Kenan Thompson, who was also in the bit for YN’s monologue, officially introduced the two as husband and wife. The couple shared a liplock to seal the news.

According to the shared statement of the A-lister couple’s publicists, YN and JIN were wed in an intimate ceremony two years ago, last November 2021, in their shared residence in Massachusetts. 

It was unclear where or when YN and JIN got engaged or began dating. But all we know was the two initially met for the production of their first movie, Cornelia Street, back in 2016. It was a hit, mainly due to the lead actors’ powerful chemistry, and birthed many supporters for the duo. But the rumors about their relationship began in 2018 when the two were seen hanging out often. 

The two never confirmed anything and trolled everyone about it. Even reaching the point where they became Instagram official. YNJIN even made a joke about buzzes about them breaking up when they posted a clip about it before. The two got crazier rumors over the years: living together, cheating (and breaking up again), and the actress writing love songs based on her relationship with JIN.

YN, 28, has previously dated other known names in the industry such as Jordan Fisher, Kim Taehyung, and Niall Horan. Meanwhile, JIN, 31,  was more private with his past relationships. But he was formerly linked to model Lee Sung Kyung and briefly to Selena Gomez. The wedded A-listers have worked together in a total of three films: Cornelia Street, Maybe Yes Maybe No, and Lonely People.

We are probably late but… Best wishes to Hollywood’s favorite couple!

It was a big event in both social media and celebrity newsrooms. People shared their reactions online and even talked about you two in their real-life conversations. A lot of people made memes about the whole thing. The reveal of your husband was called iconic in one of the articles written. The number of edits, pictures, and just any type of content flooding all commonly used social media sites is crazy.

@/YNJINUpdates: YNJIN officially confirms marriage during SNL appearance 💚

@/thisislove: IM CRYING THEY LOOK SO GOOD TOGETHER

@/IMMANEEDSP4CE: ynjin hard launching their relationship on snl is not in my 2023 bingo card

@/KellyDelaCruz: I just lost fifty dollars to my sister because of this whole thing!

@/bellisimayn: the whole fandom right now:

@/tanginuhynjin4ever: we never got any dating confirmation but it’s all worth it!! 💗💗

Replying to @/tanginuhynjin4ever

- @/0283ynjinfan: TOTALLY WORTH IT

Two days, after you publicized your marriage, it was Jin’s birthday. As to keep up with the tradition, you posted a simple greeting on Instagram. You literally just greeted them but you added some photos.

The first pic was taken during your trip together months before the reveal.

The second image is your hand, showing off the engagement ring, while Jin can be seen in the background grinning.

Then, on the third slide, a polaroid picture of you and Jin. It was taken through a selfie. You were grinning as Jin plants a smooch on your cheek. Unbeknownst to everyone, it was taken during your first wedding back in November 2021, in your then-newly bought home in Massachusetts.

And for the fourth one, Jin was seen carrying two babies, both heads turned away from the camera, on each arm. He was sat on a familiar couch with Francheskat resting beside him.

In the last slide, a screenshot of your conversation from a year ago. You did not put any context so the fans are left to think about it.

author's note | that's it, folks! that's the end. oh my god, I didn't expect the love this series got. writing this series always brought me joy and it honestly brought me back here in tumblr. thank you so much for all the love you sent out for the a-listers. i truly appreciate everything. as always, my asks are open for questions about the whole series. also, if you have questions for the a-listers, feel free to send 'em. I'll be responding in a few days. also, just want to let y'all know, i'm planning for a spinoff. thank you so much, loves. 💕✨

taglist rules

THE A-LISTERS TAGLIST

@jub-jub @yoontaethings @kissme-ornot @sleepy-daydreams @veronawrites @cuteipat @ratherbefangirling @babystarcandy-gcf @akirawhore @alpacaparkaseok @rjsmochii @lovesickbangtan @rapmonie2047 @btsiguess-kpop @angelarin @walkinganxiety0 @bloopkook @yoooonie @amara-mars @firesighgirl @zwiehe @hiii-priestess @lojocas @juju-227592 @singukieee @eshtravagent @canarystwin @petalsofink

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd​ @cixrosie​ @jksjx​ @embrace-themagic​ @buttvi​ @starbtslove​ @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @pixybear @miyukihoshi @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie

[delta-pavonis]

I would love to hear more about Raspberries and Rum?

*cackles*

OKAY. So this came from a conversation that I had with @wordsinhaled in, no joke, NOVEMBER 2022. And I still haven't written all of it. BUT some of the bits from our conversation are goddamned SOLID GOLD and I am cracking myself up all over again reading the transcript. [Important background science here (just read the title).] Here is me just copy-pasta-ing from Discord with no indication of who is saying what:

hob getting wasted on dream’s jizz because he tastes like a good mixed drink suddenly a thing i need to see Hob as New Inn bartender keeps trying to make a new rum cocktail with raspberry flavor and no one understands why referencing it makes Hob blush, it is just a reference to that cool space data, right? now suddenly need a 5+1 where hob keeps making dream trial raspberry rum cocktails until they find the Perfect One and dream is very bemused Gotta keep going back and comparing to the actual source material apparently raspberry season in the UK starts in june where he’s like fucking. up handmaking raspberry simple syrup in the middle of the night and dream is like “ah, offerings” Because, honestly, he is technically trying to figure out a way to have everyone who orders the drink get drunk on something that tastes like his husband's jizz? And I find that fucking hilarious? Definitely deranged Hob humor mainly because he’s like, do i want everyone to suck your dick? this is reserved for me but do i want everyone to know the JOY of this taste? perhaps However, first time a university student of his orders the cocktail, once it is on the menu, Hob has A Moment of Regret™️  just a moment though i wonder if dream is aware he tastes like this or if he just. came up with the most reasonable taste he felt he would have when composing his physical body, which of course would be nothing like human and of course some esoteric shit like didn’t even think about it once so he keeps trying this drink and being like yes my very competent bartender husband perfecting his fancy raspberry drink i am so proud but hob is looking perpetually more glinty around the eyes each time he gets closer to the mark and dream is like, cottoning on that Something Is Up eventually dream is like “there is some... significance here. that i am missing.” and hob has to turn around and hide his face in his hands because somehow he never thought he’d have to Explain what he was doing especially because i feel like this would be some shit hob would try to do one time in the middle of the night while planning the summer drinks menu and then somehow he’d be neck deep in recipes from google weeks later but then dream is fucking. super out of left field when he finds out like... “you are crafting a libation. to me.” and hob is like uhhhhhhh no???? not actually???? am i??? I mean... just... based... on you? Hob will argue semantics on this dream is like you’re distilling my essence into a drink that all your patrons will imbibe and hob is like uhhh maybe? uuuhhh... maybe I am? okay but dream like THAT’S KIND OF HOT and hob is like I WASN’T TRYING TO BE HOT I WAS BEING STUPID and dream is just. yes. my husband can be very stupid. and very hot "These two things are not mutually exclusive, my dear Hob." of course this has to culminate in “you mean to tell me you don’t know you taste like raspberries and rum? you just made yourself taste all... lovely and you had no idea?” “i had not the faintest idea, indeed.” “you’ve never...?” “i have had no occasion to... sample myself, as it were.” “sample... jesus. alright. what are you, an hors d’oeuvre at the department party?” “no. but it seems i could be its signature drink.” DREAM IS A LIL BITCH hob’s inner exhibitionist cackling at forcing his staid ass colleagues to drink this drink while dream broods in the corner indulgently eyeing his antics everyone like “wow robbie this is a GREAT cocktail mind if i nick the recipe off you” and hob is like “ah no actually, it’s a bit of a jealously guarded secret” NO. Dream overhears and that's how he introduces himself, the little shit "And you are?" "Oh, I am Hob's Jealously Guarded Secret."

Here is the first chapter of the 5+1 that is in that WIP file (under cut because NSFW - cw for drunkenness and blowjobs):

One: May

It starts as a joke. A joke in Hob’s head that he doesn’t tell anyone. Because he knows that after this many years walking God’s green Earth that he can have a slightly warped sense of humor. 

So Hob keeps his motivations to himself and dusts off his bartending skills, back from when he had just opened The New Inn and was still getting the staff up-to-snuff. And then he sets to work. 

He has to figure out the rum first. Actually, Hob knows exactly which rum he would like to use, the second batch of ron miel honey rum by Destilerías Arehucas produced shortly after they opened on Gran Canaria island in 1884, but as far as he can tell there are only three bottles of it left in the world and they are all in his personal collection. 

So Hob called some friends and obtained as wide a variety of current lines of Canary Island honey rum that he could manage. He bided his time until the next Friday night, poured out a shot of each in a row on his coffee table, and proceeded to get fantastically pissed.

(Could Hob have sipped and spit out the liquor as he tasted them? Sure. Was this more fun? Absolutely.)

It was only after Hob was well toasted that Dream sidestepped into his living room. 

Hob was off the couch and on his knees in front of Dream before he even really decided what to do with his drunk-ass self. He was nuzzling into the fly of familiar black jeans and Dream was letting out a surprised hiccup of a moan and Hob was pretty sure his brain had dissolved into giddy bubbles of lust and want.

Long fingers wound into Hob’s hair and held him there as he rocked forward, purring, “Why hello to you, too, Hob Gadling. I did not expect ah!” A gasp when Hob started peeling away the clothing. “Expect quite this manner of hospitality upon my arrival.”

“Gotta…” Hob had the single-minded determination only liquor could provide. “Need to check…”

Dream made a curious hum of an inquiry at that, but Hob didn’t have time to explain. The taste of the rum was already being diluted by all the saliva pooling in his mouth and he needed to compare them. 

It had been just over a year since His Stranger had walked back into his life. Slightly less than that since they realized what absolute idiots they were for each other. It was enough time, given the many many repetitions Hob had to practice, for him to get really fucking good at getting Dream off with his mouth.

Hob, in his infinite need to stroke his own ego, had timed it once. Well, more than once. Many times actually. The current record was 143 seconds from first press of lips to spend. Hob drunkenly thought he could do better than that. Not that he had his phone handy. Ah well, that wasn’t a good reason to not try.

Dream finished getting hard in Hob’s throat, sobbed as Hob swallowed repeatedly. His lover was shaking with it already, Hob preened distantly, and moved to press the tips of his fingers just so into Dream’s perineum. Another press and stroke behind Dream’s balls, this time while Hob sucked with his entire lung capacity as he backed away, and then the Lord Morpheus was coming with a strangled shout right onto Hob’s tongue.

Hob savored it for a moment, eyes closed, cataloging the taste, before swallowing and scrabbling away from Dream to the table. He grabbed the bottle of what he thought was the best flavor match and took a pull from it.

“Oh yeah,” Hob’s ass hit the floor with a thump. “That’s it.”

[susvale]

M.I.A. Homelander X Reader X Steve Roger

Title: Missing In action

Pairings: Homelander X Reader, Steve Rogers X Reader, Dark Steve x Reader, Dark Homelander x reader [Crossover]

Summary: You were an avenger, one of the more magic ones. People called your name in excitement and felt safe being around you, then thanos happened… when you weren’t snapped and after a police call you were somewhere else. Now all you know is there is a man with a cap calling himself Homelander calling himself “Americas Hero” and the world is different… is it isn’t so bad though.

I made this is 2022, It’s been sitting in my drafts for that long… so yeah!

[Part One] -> [Part Two]

It was overwhelming at times. Cameras in your face after a mission were you were left battered and bruised, nevertheless you smiled, you gave a proud smile to the reporters reporting. They had risked things coming here did it make your job harder, yes, the helicopters flying around while you try and fly. It added pressure to keep people in the air safe. At least you weren’t Steve, they made him do dumb shit, like that time he was in a Detention video spouting nonesense. You job was only to keep people safe. People may offer you movie rolls but you always decline, you weren’t an actor your a hero. Even if declining meant buying an okay-ish apartment with a broken Landry machine. You weren’t a millionaire, just a lady with the power to say “bang” and a mans head would explode if you wanted to. Even then, you had the option to live in Tony’s tower. Maybe then some random wouldn’t show up ever week looking to kill you. A sigh left your lips as you looked down at the TV, Thanos killed half the population and vanished. That is what’s in the News again. Men lost daughters, mothers lost sons but everybody lost someone. Even so it still stung he wouldn’t pick up your calls, you wanted to shout at him ‘your not dead yet and neither am I! stop ignoring me before one of those things change!’ Missions still came in, unsteady but they did come in.

“Maybe I should get a real job, part time.” You mumbled to yourself while you stared at the TV. Everyone you ever knew had distanced themselves or been snapped, maybe getting out would be good… people have been starting to expect that this is life, ‘maybe thanos was right my gym has been less crowded lately!’ Kinda people, jokes that might not be jokes anymore.

You still think about it, maybe he was right. It was horrible, you know. So many people lost and yet you didn’t lose anyone significant, Bucky of course but you were only just starting to get to know him… Steve maybe but you could still see him, feel him breathe, he didn’t get snapped. He was just distance, like he wished he did get snapped…

Witch hurt…

You didn’t have a family, friends outside of the avengers, hell you never had a boyfriend before Steve. How could you? Caged and trained like a dog, feed needles and pills like food. Given faces and names to quietly kill, you never had your own name till the avengers… Y/N… it was a nice name though. you named yourself off the first person you ever killed, you didn’t know if they would ever have agreed but they were dead… so it didn’t matter.

Steve and therapy, You remembered. Keep breathing don’t think about it. Or maybe it was think about it regret is good? Your therapist had been snapped so it’s been a while. The police called you once in and while about cases. Maybe answering back wouldn’t suck? You were lonely and bored, nothing to do then unsteady mission that lacked any sort of life.

Grabbing your phone you called a man. He was your contact to the police, you could never remember titles or anything like that but he was pretty high up.

“Thank god you called, you use to be so active I was starting to worry you got snapped too.” He joked, people cope with humor, you know that. Still, it irritated you that you and your friends put your life on the line and failed only to be joked about by people who didn’t know anything. Nevertheless, you gritted your teeth and held your tongue. “More and more people are disappearing. We think it may be an aftershock effect of some kind.”

“I doubt it.” You mumbled to yourself, he didn’t hear you and went on about the investigation. A group of people who agreed with Thanos’s ideals has been here and there, left and right. They think a select group talking it too far and hurting or making more people disappear. That sounded more likely, he told you about peoples corpses. Looked like they had been shot with high power lasers, or they’re heads have been smashed in. They had a certain person in custody, maybe if you worked with them you could find a way to undo the snap? That’s what the officer proposed anyway. You said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, you would be their for the interview is what you told them.

You should call Steve. This looked like such an important case, he had to know people were making more people disappear… it could lead to something. He would want to know.

So you did call him. He didn’t answer, instead you were greeted by the all so familiar call after the beep speech. It was nicer then actually speaking to him nowadays, though. “Heya, it’s Steve. Leave a uh… voicemail..? After the beep? Did I do that right?” You’d hear him call to someone in the background, “yeah, other then forgetting what a voicemail was called.” You heard your own distant voice greet you, “Steve you have to-“ you were the last thing you hear as the beep signalled the end of the recorded ‘can’t get to you’ message.

A sigh left you when you realized you’d have to speak now, “Hey Steve, the police called me and they have a case of more disappearing people. A group of Thanos supporters popped up making even more people disappear.” You paused, “I think it’s something you’ll be interested in, might lead to something, heh… listen, I miss you, it’s been so long since we’ve spoken. I… can’t…” your voice trailed off, you breathed in deciding not to do this over a call. “Anyway, call me when you get this. Can’t make it too long.”

That’s right. You couldn’t keep the police waiting… So you grabbed your bag and left. Off to the police station.“Hey, we put the suspect in the interrogation room.” The man spoke, he opened the door to a standard interrogation room. Blue walls, four barely cushioned chairs and a table in the middle closet to a wall. The suspect looked like a regular man. You frowned.

This all felt too… cultish? It made you uncomfortable, the look in his eye. He looked at you like you were a god among men.

[jimilter]

the damsel & her knight | j.jk. | mini-series

Extraordinarily intelligent, really handsome but insincere as heck, Jeon Jungkook is your childhood enemy, the Chairman's son, the apple of your parents’ eye and now also a co-worker that you are forced to rescue out of sticky situations every other day. You fear it is only a matter of time before he has you entangled in his mess as well.

pairing: jungkook x reader rating: m (18+) genre: humor | angst | fluff | enemies to lovers!au | chaebol!au | ceo!jungkook | vp!reader word count: 44 k +  note: so yeah. i gave up and accepted that this is gonna be a whole-ass series. i love these two too much to stop writing ’em! 😭 the overall word count and rating will be updated as things progress. tell me if anyone wants be added to the taglist! 💜

ps! unnumbered parts are extra drabbles that don’t contribute much to the main storyline.

— masterlist | feedback | ao3

▸ CHRONOLOGICALLY;

▸ 01 | knight in distress | pg-15 | 2.5 k | You hate him so much. And you also hate God for gifting him with such a delectable body when he literally has a peanut for a brain. Life is so unfair.

read here!

▸ 02 | damsel in shining armor | pg-15 | 4.8 k | Earth has completed a little over a revolution around the sun since Jeon Jungkook was brought onboard as the company’s CEO, but what does that change? Not a thing! You’re still his babysitter, he’s still an uncontrollably chaotic toddler, you still hate yourself for finding him hot, and he still needs you to save him from a crisis. Life is still so freaking unfair.

read here!

▸ 03 | disaster management | m (18+) | 17 k | An important investor wants to withdraw from a future project at Jeon Security, and you, the company's President, are to handle things before they blow over. A task that would have been easy despite the meeting’s location being the investor’s daughter’s wedding.  Only – the presence of your unruly CEO, Jeon Jungkook, by your side the entire night when paired with alcohol… may lead to way bigger disasters than what the two of you can manage.

read here!

– the ferrari guy | pg-15 | 5 k | You hire an assistant – and Jeon Jungkook loses his mind. Is that irrational of him? Not when the guy you’ve chosen flirts like a hooker, looks like a runway model and dresses like he’s Giorgio Armani himself. 

coming soon!

▸ 04 | make-believe it’s hyperreal | m (18+) | ~20 k | The Chairman of Jeon Security has finally decided he needs a Vice Chairman to shoulder the responsibilities. You know you're the only one at the company who deserves this post, so if everyone thinks the promotion should stay in the family? Well, fuck that shit; you're gonna get engaged to your frenemy-with-benefits, Jeon Jungkook, and join the damn family! Or, at least – you're gonna pretend to.

read here!

– out of time | pg-13 | ~3k | Maybe there was hope, once. Maybe if he’d apologized when you fell into mud because of him when you both were 6 instead of blackmailing you because he was nervous. But Jungkook still distinctly remembers exactly who it was that comforted you after that incident, too. Maybe there never was any hope, after all.

coming soon!

▸ 05 | name tba | m (18+) | ~15k | Jungkook has gone back to his womanizing ways. Nothing about this amuses you now. There’s a pressure on your chest you can’t decipher; you’ve never had your heart broken before.

coming soon!

© jimilter | 2022

taglist: @shrimpmsg @codeinebelle @afangirllikeme-blog @duchesskaren @opaljm @knjsnoona​ @lovelynamj @kookiya17​ @jub-jub​ @realisticnotes​ @chami @dopedreamfireparty​ @fanficscuziranout​ @prod-yuri @parkdatjimin​ @jkkkkkay​ @zshenbi @ahundredtimesover​ @ggukcangetit​ @jwlmnbt​​ @luv--you​​ @jiminscheekies​​ @hubbytaehyung @callmejimmeo​

[wonieleles]

project: stay single — yang jungwon

synopsis: when being the youngest and only girl of the park household, strict parents and overprotective brother and cousins are a given. therefore, park y/n sworn off dating until she enters college (not that she had much of a choice). but when the awkward but terribly cute yang jungwon is placed in her lab group, she finds herself wanting to break the number one rule in her family—no dating till college. or maybe they could be just friends, right?

pairing: classmate!jungwon x fem!reader

genre: smau, high school au, strangers to friends to lovers, mutual pining (?), instant attraction, forbidden love but not really, fluff, (attempted) crack, slow burn cause they’re two socially awkward kids 😕

warnings: my humor, not grammarly approved grammar, lots of deez nuts jokes, death/suicidal jokes (kinda), inaccurate time stamps, typos (most likely intentional), occasional bathroom jokes will include specific warnings in the chapter if necessary

started: july 7, 2022

status: ON HOLD!

taglist: open! just send an ASK to be added! replies will be ignored.

note: this is my first smau, so please bear with me. also this is not an accurate depiction of any idols since i’m just using them as characters, and therefore will be creating my own version of their personality for this story. i hope this doesn’t upset anyone, i just thought it’d be easier than using random face claims for made up characters

profiles: park family and co | everyone’s favorite idiot nerds | chem hate club

chapter one: sunghoon abuse 😢

chapter two: ALREADY???

chapter three: i was hacked !!!

↳ bonus chapter one: park family shenanigans

chapter four: and they actually talked? without help???

chapter five: chaos at 3am

chapter six: the beginning of the nishimura riki murder plot

chapter seven: god answers prayers (REAL !!)

chapter eight: sunghoon GET OUT OF THE GOD DAMN BATHROOM

chapter nine: ynwonshipper acc (0.4k words)

chapter ten: can i have a lawyer?

chapter eleven: funny story i almost died

chapter twelve: just keeping it 💯 😎😜😆🤩

chapter thirteen: yn’s fbi agent era?

chapter fourteen: oh no

chapter fifteen: the idiots’ dilemma (0.6k words)

chapter sixteen: riki’s metal bat kink (UNCONFIRMED)

chapter seventeen: maybe it’s cause i do … like him

chapter eighteen: jang wonyoung is a liar (with a capital L)

chapter nineteen: autocorrect strikes again?

chapter twenty: be delusional !!

chapter twenty one: sunoo was right 😱

chapter twenty two: hear me out but i think i’m psychic (0.3k words)

chapter twenty three: tutor x tutoree trope?!

↳ bonus chapter two: and they were WHAT??? (0.8k words)

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