#i'm waiting for the books before i start the show but

[knowbites]

　　　I GUESS I'M IN LOVE　　۶ৎ　　kim seungmin.

☕　────　you're everything that i want but i didn't think i'd find ..

⠀ ksm x f reader !⠀⠀6, 3 k.⠀⠀fluff, college au⠀⠀ 𓈀 ⠀⠀ wc.⠀⠀descriptions of social anxiety, getting drunk and kisses. this is based on a personal experience, but it's also based on the love of my life @skzms 's drabble "seungmin in love" which you should check out!

notes.⠀⠀i hope may doesn't mind i bring this back... on her bday <3 (and hour late but let's pretend) happy, happy bday mayy! my lovely teri asked me to post it again because she really liked it, so i saved it for your bday. i listened to i guess i'm in love by clinton kane while writing this btw!

You had never mustered the courage to talk to a boy until university made you come out of your shell.

The morning you had stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, ready to listen to the dean of your faculty give the introductory talk, you had sat alone in one of the front rows—hanging on every word, your heart racing restlessly. You hadn't known anyone among the crowd, and you had decided you would rather focus on the speech, secretly hoping some extrovert would adopt you, than take the first step and start an interaction with a stranger.

But making new friends wasn’t as easy as your high school besties, studying in another town, had made it sound.

You had been shy since you were a child, feeling a sense of panic creeping up your chest at the mere thought of you ending up alone but unable to do something about it, and you were incapable of approaching someone and starting a conversation from scratch. Your fear had always been a prison and the guardian of an anxiety that swirled inside your ribcage, but at college it translated as the number one reason why you had ended up hiding in that lonesome table at the library during all your free hours, instead of hanging out with classmates.

Everyone was new in the first year, most of them didn't know anyone either, but unlike them, you had felt that an invisible wall separating you from them, preventing you from mingling with other students and interacting properly. Not that you wanted to—sometimes you thought you were better off alone, with your music and your inner peace—but there were times when the solitude became suffocating.

Until you met Kim Seungmin. Quiet boy with warm coffee gaze and broad shoulders, usually sitting in the front rows, focused on your professors’ words.

You hadn't spoken to him, at least not at first. You hadn't even realised he existed, at the beginning. You were too scared, mind set on the classes to avoid noticing the silence that clouded your room, and he was just another classmate in the core subjects shared by all those who studied the same degree as you. He smiled softly at the jokes of the teachers he liked, became more serious in the most difficult lectures, and tried not to show his exasperation when the annoying student in the first line of desks made their trademark rancid comment. By late October, you hadn’t even known his name.

But eventually, you found yourself waiting for those little reactions. Like you, he also showed up ten minutes before the first class started, sitting alone, and he also came to school with his headphones on, drowning out all the noise in the corridors with some music. He would arrive with his dark blue backpack slung over one of his shoulders, and a book in his hand—the same one he would read for a while before the professor arrived. You smiled to yourself as you watched him, writing down the titles of his readings, looking forward to the classes you shared with him.

And then you saw him appear for the first time in the library. You were already a regular visitor of the silent place, always at one of the more secluded tables, your back to the wall, your laptop a shield protecting you from the other people in the room. And he had slipped quietly in, ears covered by his black headphones, leaving his backpack on the table in front of yours. For a moment you had stood still, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, the word on your document half-typed, your breath caught in your throat.

And then you had looked away, going on with your work.

It was stupid to react like that for someone you didn't even know.

Right?

But the next day you repeated your little choreography, sitting opposite of each other, in complete silence, a calm and concentrated reflection of your own, right in front of you, as if there was a mirror in the middle of the tables. And the next day, and the next, and the next... For weeks, until it became a habit between the two of you.

You would leave class a little late, too, just because you knew it took him longer to collect his belongings, and you'd follow each other's shadows through the corridors until you reached the library. He would hold the door, a shy gentleman stopping in its tracks to let you in first, and you would smile sweetly at him. You would walk up to your designated table, and when you lent him the book you had used to find out information about a homework topic, he'd return the soft curve in your lips, showing his braces without an ounce of insecurity.

Not a word, but you didn’t need them to feel at ease in each other’s company.

You were comfortable with your dynamic because you didn't think you had any expectations. You didn't think you did. But as the days went by, you started to find him among people even when you weren't looking for him. Your friends, with whom you exchanged text messages, encouraged you to say hello, to introduce yourself, making you think that he could really be interested in you. And you'd let them, flushing at the thought of it. Then exam season had come around, and you had locked yourself in your dorm room to study—realising, in his absence, the impact he had left on your heart.

In February, you returned to your routine. And instead of facing the feelings that had been blooming even before spring, you welcomed back the habits you had implemented with Seungmin, happy to find that the time apart hadn't changed them. You hadn't really made a move, neither of you, but you were alone in your little bubble, and so you continued to meet at your library spot.

But by the second semester, the people around you had already got used to college life. The one you saw in the movies, going out half the nights of the week, hanging out in large groups of friends in the evenings, complaining about professors and gossiping in class. That comfort, you discovered, meant that there were people who would try to make more friends, or seek out a college crush that would motivate them to romanticise their lives.

One of the last days of winter—when the weather got warmer but still rainy— you realised that there was another girl waiting for Seungmin at the end of your class. A more outgoing and prettier one, the kind who always gave the right answers to the teacher and had a bunch of cool friends she hung out with. You heard her asking him if he could explain to her the latest topic discussed in class over a latte in the building’s cafeteria. And your heart sunk in your chest.

You had been waiting for him, like you had learned to do, in the edge of the door—ready to shamelessly accompany each other to the next lecture—, but staying there while the girl flirted with him made you feel uneasy, like you were intruding in the intimacy of her charming smile and casual brushes of her hand on his arm. A creep, in the corridor, witnessing what you couldn’t have. What you would never be able to be like. So you had ended up leaving. Without him.

That had been the first day you had gone to the library alone since your non-arranged meetings had taken place there, and you’d had to open the door for yourself. It had hurt, somehow. Like a dog so used to having a delicious meal when the bell rang that he started to salivate at the sound of it. You had taken the same steps every day, stopped in the same spot and waited for him to open the door for you with that silly bow he always did. 

But when you arrived at the door, your mind chose to forget how to wrap your hand around the handle. As if it wasn’t right because he was the one supposed to do it. Dragging yourself to a table that suddenly seemed emptier, you realised that you missed his smile. His steady presence, right by your side.

It hadn’t made sense, the way your heart jumped in your chest every time you noticed someone approaching your table. He was just a classmate. You hadn’t even talked that much, besides a quiet ‘Good morning’ and the usual nods of acknowledgement when you saw each other. Seungmin. The boy attending the same degree as you, another student in the faculty. But somehow you had grown accustomed to him as a constant—especially because there were so many absences in your life, it was easy to notice when he was gone.

And it had scared you. For a moment, thinking you had taken things way too far, that you had let the attachment blossom under your own watch. Wondering if it was unhealthy, the intensity, the muchness you carried with yourself. If you were somewhat broken, unable to keep normal relationships with the people around you, or it was just an illness you had no control over.

You had wished, as it usually happened, that you were braver.

Instead, the next day you skipped class.

A coward, really. You had only missed the class you knew you shared with Seungmin, and you had felt guilty enough. You'd gone to the interactive seminars without fail, your mind scattered and an emptiness in your chest, but you hadn't been able to purposely attend the same class as him. You would have felt compelled to talk to him, to greet him or ask him about the girl from the day before, and at the same time you hadn't felt able to deal with it. So you had spent the day thinking you were an absolute coward, not fully understanding why your brain worked the way it did.

But an afternoon of self-loathing and overthinking, curled up on the sofa in the common room of the dorm一all a wandering gaze and sad music playing softly in your headphones一, made you realise that you had gone numb. Stuck. For a long time, imprisoned in the confines of your own mind, shackled to what people could say about you and the overwhelming burden of failing. To avoid bothering or speaking out, to reduce yourself to a shadow of what you could be so that the people around you could shine brighter.

And it didn't seem fair at all.

So you had muttered a quiet ‘fuck it’ under your breath.

The following day, early in the morning, on the bus一on your way to class一, you had managed to gather the courage to talk to a boy. For the first time, and all by yourself. To that boy.

You had approached him before class, slipping into a seat one line forward of where he was, taking a deep breath of air and exhaling it as you had tried to keep your nerves under control, eyes tightly closed. With your pulse racing, you had turned, resting one of your hands on his desk and catching his attention by waving softly. He had looked up from the intertwined sentences of his book, closing it as soon as he saw it was you addressing him, and you enjoyed a few more seconds of your tender bubble, his brownish gaze all over you, before bursting it.

Your words had been quick and breathy, stammering over possible coffees and shared hours, your eyes anywhere in the class but on his face. Your cheeks got incredibly heated when he responded calmly, a mask of stillness in contrast to the chaos of emotions spiralling inside him, and you had only interrupted the conversation when the teacher finally began the lesson, heart pounding against your ribcage.

But you had done it! Stepping out of your comfort zone, and risking your carefully threaded silence, your convenient and easy peace, just to approach someone. In return, you got the chance to spend time with Seungmin, and the exhilaration of a new achievement.

That was the first free hour of your strict schedule you had disrupted your way to the library in favour of a trip to the cafeteria. You had felt that warmish touch in your shoulder every time his had brushed yours, and a burst of pride inside your chest when you had realised you were finally enjoying something you had worked for—even if it was as silly as hanging out with a not so new friend.

You had heard him order an iced americano with syrup, greeting the lady behind the counter with rehearsed confidence, and waiting—his gaze tracing across the profile of your face—for you to ask for what you wanted. Then he had guided you to one of the tables at the back, letting you sit on the bench with its back against the wall. Almost as if, somehow, he knew that it was what you preferred.

For a moment  you had wanted to get your hopes up, to think that he actively thought of you as much as you had thought of him, but it didn't actually make any sense. So you had sighed, setting your bag down beside you, and intertwined your own fingers in a nervous gesture.

You had been the one to propose the plan, but you realised then that you had been so sure he would say ‘no’ that you hadn't planned any further.

You had wandered your gaze in silence, steadily, slowly, trying not to meet his at any point, your shyness forcing stitches of thread on your lips, unable to utter a word. At least until the waitress had appeared with her tray and your drinks, and Seungmin's raspy ‘thank you’ broke through your bubble. You had uttered your own appreciation, no sound actually coming out of your throat, but the beginning of a smile tugged at your lips when he managed to continue a conversation that hadn't existed until then, asking you how you had adjusted to the lectures, to college, and how was life at your dorm.

And then you let loose like a torrent. The stuttering edges of your mouth had tightened, answering in few words and short sentences how your university experience had been going until then, daring even to lock your eyes with his when you returned the question, painfully eager to hear him speak. And as he told a story similar to yours, albeit with many more friends than you had, you had reached your trembling hands towards your cup, taking it and sipping a small amount of coffee.

You had tried not to let it show, but the bitterness of the drink enveloped your taste buds in a flavour you were not used to. Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced, swallowing the thick liquid in one gulp, avoiding triggering your gag reflex, and when you looked back at Seungmin, you noticed he had been watching you like a hawk. He had tilted his head, almost like a puppy would have, and picked up the cup you had just set down, wetting his lips to taste it. He had opened his eyes slightly, almost comically, and muttered what you both were thinking: “This is not what you ordered.”

Then he had gotten up to go reclaim it.

You had felt the heat rise up your neck and settle on your cheeks, unable to believe what had just happened, and watched from your warm seat as the boy spoke to the woman he had greeted earlier. She was surprised and certainly apologetic because of the confusion, and he had shared a complicit grin with you while she repeated the whole process of making from scratch what you had ordered in the first place.

It had been Seungmin's gentle words when he finally returned, treating the porcelain with extreme care so as not to spill the contents, that made you suppress the apology you had had at the tip of your tongue. Perhaps he had decided that it was his responsibility—that the barista had mistaken the order—, but he had stood up for you because he had wanted to. You could read it on his face.

“Thank you so much,” you had said, a shy smile curving your lips, brushing his knuckles with your fingers as you took the new mug. You had closed your eyes to smell the sweet, thick hot chocolate you loved so much, sighing dreamily against it. “You didn't have to.”

Spring was coming to an end, but the mornings were still tinged with a freezing air that bothered you, because you never knew what to wear to class—when you got out of the dorm it was cold, but as soon as midday struck, the sun heated more than usual. So you had told Seungmin when you had opened your eyes and realised that he had been watching you again, but you tried not to retreat into the bashfulness that had kept you from interacting with him for so long.

You had been ready to get out of your comfort bubble once and for all, and having a conversation with someone who in your thoughts was no longer a stranger seemed like the natural option.

After that moment, it had been relatively easy. The words had flowed between you, asking each other about your lives and replying with more questions, exchanging anecdotes, dropping little jokes that elicited laughter, lost in each other’s gaze. As easy as breathing, the minutes passing by on the clock without even being aware of it, learning to read a new language—a new person—, through what you told each other. Opinions and experiences, comments and compliments, engaged in a dance that only you knew, until the alarm on your phone had started ringing, and you had realised you were late.

You had apologised with hurried syllables, quickly packing up, waving goodbye, and heading hastily towards the counter to pay for your drink. You had been surprised when the woman indicated that Seungmin had already taken care of it, and you had looked back for a few seconds to give him a beaming smile. He had mirrored it, leaning against the table you had been sitting at, and waved his hand in response. It had been when you got into the bus, on the way to the restaurant where you had agreed to meet your sister for lunch, that you had realised you hadn't asked him for his phone number.

Apparently, you hadn’t been the only one to think so.

The morning after your disaster of a first conversation, you had arrived early. You had sat in the third row, the fourth seat, just like you always did. And you had begun to doodle in your notebook, deep in thought, until you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. You had looked up, startled, until Seungmin made an exaggerated gesture of asking if he could sit next to you, and you managed not to burst out laughing at his antics when the teacher had come through the door to start the class.

And it had been when you had barely been able to keep your eyes open, the teacher's voice lulling you into a light sleepy state, that you noticed the tip of Seungmin's finger brushing your arm. You had turned slightly, ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine, and instead of questioning what he wanted, you found a sheet of paper folded over the pen that had slipped from your hand. You had opened it discreetly, glancing at Seungmin out of the corner of your eye, curious, and didn’t even bother to suppress the grin that curved your lips as you read a tight “Can I have your phone number?” in his collected handwriting.

You had written it down quickly, going over each digit twice to make sure there could be no confusion, and slid it across the table for Seungmin to tuck it away. You had nodded goodbye to him as the bell rang, parting ways, him going to the opposite side of the corridor, to another class. You had grabbed your bag, and sighed, not so keen to attend your remaining lecture.

At least until twenty minutes into it your phone screen lit up, receiving a new notification.

from: unknown number: hey, is it true that mr choi’s classes are soo boring? or my contact in his classes has shamelessly lied to me?

The contact in Professor Choi's class was you, because you had complained the day before about his classes to Seungmin, and the unknown number had to be him. You put the phone under the table, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice, and typed in the answer:

from: me mmm, you shouldn’t trust your contact they wouldn’t be boring if you were here

from: seungmin 🫶🏼 naah, i bet my classes wouldn’t be boring if my contact could attend them

from: me you can't use my own sentence as an answer that's like cheating

from: seungmin 🫶🏼 would it be cheating if i bribe you with another cup of hot chocolate?

from: me whatever you say, lover boy

You had tried to imagine Seungmin’s reaction, your subconscious tricking you with images of him blushing in the middle of his class, and left the phone in your bag. That interaction had made your entire day.

From then on, you continued to develop your friendship, intertwining yourselves like a tangled vine, unable to separate from each other. You shared more hours in the library, actually talking in between classes—in between and during classes—, and even hanging out together in some afternoons, when the summertime was closer and you ignored the upcoming exams with his guitar and iced tea in the park.

You too learned to enjoy the revising period leading up to the finals season, by exchanging knowing glances and turning boring lessons into jokes. You left your quiet table for the privacy of your dorm room, and he became comfortable enough to stop acting shy and feel like in his own home. You helped each other take breaks when the stress got too much, and explained what you knew better if the other one couldn’t quite understand the subject. He was the perfect study partner, and it had reflected in your grades, none of which had dropped below a C.

At the end of finals, once you had finished your second term and the beginning of your degree at college, Seungmin had invited you to one of the pubs his friends had shown him. He wanted to properly celebrate a successful academic year, and excused himself for not inviting them—he wasn’t ashamed of you, he just hadn't wanted them to say anything stupid in front of you.

But you hadn’t missed them, and neither did he. With a glass in his hand, he had followed you to the dance floor every time you had asked, his neck flushed and his eyes shying away from your figure when he realised the alcohol had disinhibited you enough to move your hips freely, flirting non-stop. It had been a memorable night, though you hadn’t kept a lot of memories, just inebriated snippets. When three in the morning struck, he was the one who escorted you to your dorm, just to make sure you got there safely, and you had been the one who drunkenly begged him to stay with you.

He woke up in the same bed as you, limbs intertwined, and almost dizzy at the softness of your skin against his.

The following summer break had distanced you a bit, each enjoying a couple of months of relaxation back with your family, although you did text weekly to each other with updates about your lives. But September started, and when the second semester began, it did so with many hours of late arrivals to class—something you hated, but which was certainly more bearable in his company and because of him.

You would gather together as soon as you arrived at the faculty on one of the benches by the entrance—him sitting comfortably with his ankle on his thigh, you with your knees against your chest, jumping from conversation to conversation until the bell started ringing. It always startled you, the high pitched, thundering sound, and you would always run up the stairs together, to get to class before the teacher.

You had learned to cope with it because somehow the stress of being late was compensated by the way Seungmin would touch you so he wouldn't lose you in the corridors. Hovering behind you, like a guard dog, guiding you to your class with his hand resting on the small of your back, making sure you got in before he wandered off into the crowd in search of his own, in case you didn't share it.

And in the free hours you had gotten to know his friends, or at least some of them. The first time had been in a class that had been cancelled last minute, on your way to the library, when you had seen Seungmin’s silhouette in the cafeteria, his broad shoulders framing the back of the chair. You had felt a little bit awkward at first, but still greeted them both—the short boy and the narrowed-eyed one—with a bashful smile, before asking them if they would let you sit in the chair by Seungmin’s side.

You had seen the knowingly smirks, and also their suspicious gazes, but they had made you feel like a long time friend of theirs, so you had shaken the creepy feeling out of your body. You had stayed silent most of the conversation, listening to their jokes and anecdotes, smiling upon the fact that they treated Seungmin like a brother—teasing him to death. And from then on you had always found a free seat by his side in your gatherings.

Your easiness with them, with Changbin and Jeongin, had solidified at about the same time you accepted that Seungmin just saw you as one of the group, and you had tried to stop getting your hopes up. Throughout the academic year, you had begun to participate in more conversations with his friends, becoming a little bit more social around them, and even actively participating in class, interacting with classmates and getting to know some girls with whom you thought a friendship could develop.

You had noticed Seungmin had been turning somewhat distant, but with your mandatory Friday movie nights and your weekly coffee dates—hot chocolate for you, he made sure they didn't mess it up again—, you assumed he had simply decided that he had more priorities, or had found himself so comfortable in your presence he didn't feel he had to contact you every second of his day. You were fine with having any part of him he decided to share with you.

At least until the beginning of your third year, the night of Minho’s birthday celebration. That October night you arrived late to the restaurant where the group had decided to hang out in, and the place where you normally sat, to Seungmin's right, was occupied by a freckle-faced blond you had seen around the dorm on some occasion. You greeted Seungmin with a quick kiss on the cheek, giving a high five to Jeongin, and went straight to the birthday boy, to congratulate him with a tight hug.

You had spent the whole week crocheting cute fruit-shaped hats for his cats, just because of a joke you two had, and Minho’s genuine reaction to the gift was to stand up, take you in his arms and turn you around, both of you giddily giggling.

You remembered that he had told you he couldn’t wait to get home to try them on his babies, and you commented that it was a crime for him to be all alone at the end of the table on such a special day. With that excuse, you sat next to him, leaning like two old oaks so that you could hear each other over the music, your knees touching and his arm over your chair, keeping you in his embrace.

At one point, after the whole group had gathered, during the dinner, when you followed Minho’s unfocused gaze directed at Seungmin, you discovered such a hard acrimony in his usually warm coffee eyes that you thought you had done something awfully wrong.

After that weird, tense moment, he didn't approach you during what was left of the night, not even to accompany you home, like he usually did.

You tried to talk to him about what had happened the next day, texting him when you woke up in your bed and he wasn't by your side. Seungmin, who normally would have been curled up against one of your pillows, didn't even bother to answer your message.

When you asked him again in the middle of the corridor, at the faculty, before a class you two didn't even share, you got no answer. You saw him building up anger and complex emotions inside, his narrowed eyes as transparent with his emotions as he usually was, but he refused to utter a word, leaving you to attend your lecture.

The absence of that trust you had thought you shared broke your heart.

And yet, that very same night he showed up at the university party night that Jeongin had organised—Thursdays were his favourite days to go out—still frowning. He arrived at the pub without even looking at you, as if it pained him to see you, deliberately sitting at the other end of the table.

That was the second time since the two of you had met that you weren't next to each other. You thought you shouldn't have been so sickenly desperate for his attention, so instead of begging for it, you just ordered a drink.

After the first sip, they just kept on coming.

You pretended not to care. For a few hours, you managed to make it seem real. But then that boy approached you, with the soft look Seungmin always gave you, and the same wide smile he reserved just for you… So you decided that knowing that you were willing to lie to yourself, at least you should get something out of it.

He took you to the dance floor, his polite hands sticking to holding you by your waist, and swayed to the rhythm of the music, his body pressed to yours. You pretended, again, it was him, and not this boy you couldn't even remember the name of. He was nice and gentle, and you had drunk a little bit too much, so when he slid his hands to your hips, and his mouth hovered dangerously close to yours, you couldn't help but allow it.

You exhaled a laugh over his lips, beaming smile under the coloured lights of the pub, and even though his body didn't feel right pressed to yours—it wasn't Seungmin's—you opened your mouth unders his when he kissed you, messy and hungry, and you kissed him back just as eagerly.

But the spell melted on your fingers as you parted, and you found all the details in his face that made him so different from Seungmin. He really wasn’t him, even if you had tried to pretend it did, and all the suppressed feelings flooded off you, eyes drawing in unshed tears.

You had apologised to him, again and again as you escaped his embrace, wandering around the dance floor until you collided with Changbin. He gave you a bright smirk, asking you how you were doing with Wonwoo, but the tragic pout that formed on your lips made him react, taking you by your shoulders and interrogating you about the guy, Wonwoo, trying to understand if he had crossed a line with you, if you were okay.

All you had managed to do was deny, before drunkenly asking him to take you home.

It was a terrible night. For you, crying for a certainty that felt heavy in your heart, throwing up until the first lights of dawn, and for him, who stayed and nursed you to sleep. And it was also terrible to wake up, when you realised you were alone in your flat. Alone, tangled in your sheets, and the alarm clock ringing, reminding you that you had a schedule to follow, and you had to go to class.

Seungmin was not on your self proclaimed bench when you arrived, as he hadn't been since Minho's birthday, but you sat down to wait for him anyway—just in case. And when the bell rang you walked up the stairs, slowly, hungover, like a ghost wandering the corridors of the faculty, ignoring the professor's disapproving face when you interrupted his speech by opening the door of the class. You paid no attention to his words, sitting down and doodling on your notebook, enduring as best you could the hour that lasted, leaving as soon as it was over.

You skipped the next one. It wasn't responsible, you knew, but it hadn't been responsible either to go to a pub on a weekday, and you had still attended to Jeongin's invitation. If the consequences to your actions were going to be going back to your dorm to sleep some more, you were glad to comply.

The quietness of the library sounded good, too, but it held too many memories.

So you put on your headphones, drowning the background noises to nothingless. And you wandered back to your dorm, weighted steps over the pavement, gaze sliding around the landscape… Until you saw him.

With his navy blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and the brown sweatshirt you had stolen from him in some chilly afternoons. He was going to class, you supposed, when you made eye contact with him. But you forced yourself to ignore him, continuing on your way.

You couldn't face him. All you could think about was the way he had avoided you, even when you had asked him why, and how you had kissed another boy just because it looked like him. You went upstairs in your building, the necessity to get as far as possible from him bubbling in your chest, walking through the doors of the elevator.

You knew he had followed you, but you wanted to be able to ignore him too.

Until you heard him.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you stopped dead in your tracks, paralysed. He then repeated it, this time louder. “I love you, I’m so sorry but I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned around slowly, utterly convinced that it was your imagination.

You took your headphones out, letting them rest around your neck, and looked at him—watched his expression. But his kicked out, glassy eyes were a reflection of how you actually felt, the waterline of his pretty eyes covered by a bubble of unreleased tears, and brows pitched.

You didn't feel as hungover anymore.

‘Ding!’

You reacted before the doors of the elevator closed, pressing the button on the panel, and took a trembling step out of it, into the hallway.

He looked tortured. His cheeks were coloured red, flushed with the shame that let you know everything you could think was true. Still, he was looking at you with a devotion you doubted he could feel towards you, like you hung the stars in the sky. But you had heard him.

Had you?

“What do you mean you love me?” you asked, and you hated the way your voice quivered.

“Don't—” he said, and he paused, like he knew he could mess everything up in seconds. “I love you. I hadn't realised, or maybe I did, but I hadn't accepted it until a couple of weeks ago.”

“What—”

“I love you, and I'm sorry because I've been an asshole about it, and you didn't deserve it,” he added, interrupting you. You shut your mouth, trying to understand what he was implying. “I got so jealous… When—You spent the whole night with him, and he did it on purpose, and I couldn’t—And then you kissed him and I—I didn't know what to do with what I felt about it—About you.”

He locked his eyes with yours, and he looked so broken it was almost tragic. But you were putting together the pieces of his improvised, chaotic speech—he was talking about Minho, about you, about you two—, and you couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips.

You nodded, taking a step towards him.

He seemed frozen in the middle of the hall, frozen as you approached him, air caught at his throat as you slid a hand over his shoulder, like you always did before hugging him. You looked up, innocent beam in you eyes, and whispered into the shell of his ear:

“I love you too.”

His breath hitched, your mouth close to the corner of his lips, and his heartbeats quickened under your hand as you rested it on his chest, mirroring yours.

And then you kissed him. Eyes closed, devouring his sweet sighs as he pressed you to his body, backpack long forgotten on the floor. You kissed him, and his relieved smile, as you grinned into his mouth, sliding your hand up until you buried it into his hair. And he took you by your waist, and he hummed into you, and you breathlessly giggled when he pushed you into the wall at your back.

“I love you too,” you repeated, kissing him again and again, and you couldn't understand his answer but his lips were over yours again, carving those three words into your mouth.

ㅤㅤwith love ,　© mars.　do not copy, translate, repost, share this work as yours on other platforms or feed it to the ai !　🔭 ˚. ⋆͏

[melrosing]

Do you think Jaime actually feels remorse for pushing Bran?

god im sorry but i just find it baffling that there are people who think he doesn’t. genuinely baffling, i dont know what books they’re reading. there is to start with the fact that Jaime literally says he’s ashamed of it -

“I'm not ashamed of loving you, only of the things I've done to hide it. That boy at Winterfell . . ."

like idk how this could even be interpreted as anything other than remorse, so what is the issue?? that he doesn’t say it enough times?? and I think it really does come down to that for some people who just really struggle with the ‘show don’t tell’ of it all. for people who can follow ‘show don’t tell’, it will have been fairly apparent before this line that Jaime regrets what he did, and certainly clear afterwards.

the reason that the latter audience will pick it up is because they’ll have come to understand the style of Jaime’s internal narration, which tends to omit a great deal, or obscure true feelings behind facetious remarks. we never see Jaime say ‘I like and respect Brienne’ - in fact he continues to mentally insult her in AFFC. but - strangely! - when Ronnet does the same in front of him, Jaime strikes him. why does a man who internally insults Brienne care when someone else does it?? well we must surmise that despite what Jaime says or doesn’t say, something about his feelings have changed!! show. don’t. tell !!

so when Jaime suddenly comes out with the fact that he is ashamed of what he did to bran, despite never having said or even thought as much up to this point, the reader is meant to understand that Jaime has been doing this work, but owing to the style of his internal narration, we haven’t been partial to it! Jaime sometimes comes across as almost embarrassed by his better instincts, which is why he disguises them facetiously (observe his dialogue after rescuing Brienne from the bearpit, he almost wants her to believe he did it as a joke). it is in keeping with Jaime’s characterisation that he hasn’t just outright said ‘gosh I really shouldn’t have done that I feel terrible and would love to make it up to bran some kind of way!’

if you wait around for lines like that, you aren’t going to get them and you’re going to end up missing the story that’s taking place between the lines. you’re going to be so fixated on why jaime hasn’t stated his remorse in a style that appeased you, and miss the fact that Jaime’s arc is taking place because of his remorse.

so when Jaime said he had once wanted to be Arthur Dayne but became the Smiling Knight instead, what do people think he means?? what actions of his do they think Jaime is identifying as in befitting of the smiling knight rather than Arthur Dayne?? genuinely what do they think is going on???

[parkjihoonswifey]

Saw your requests were open and thought about a childhood friends to lovers with Yeon Sieun x reader? Slightly suggestive if ya want some spice, but it’s not necessary :D I’ll most likely come back and request for more weak hero content

Could I be 🐍 anon?

Thank you!

A/N: this has been sitting in the requests for a hot minute, so I'm happy to finally get it out.

Title: Assumptions

Pairings: Si-eun x Fem!Reader

Warnings: sexual content, slightly suggestive.

enjoy!

it all started when you were both two. He had just moved into the neighborhood, and you were an outgoing curious little girl. You had made your way over into their driveway somehow, where little si-eun stood, playing with some action figure. You had excitedly ran up, introducing yourself. He didn't say anything, but you kept trying and asked what he was playing with. He stared at you with a blank expression before handing the action figure to you. "Optimus prime. Keep it." You celebrated and excitedly hugged him before your parents had come out of their door, calling your name to come back inside.

"Thank you um—"

"—Si-eun"

"Thank you si-eun!" you exclaimed, planting a small kiss on his cheek before running back to your parents, who asked where you got the toy from. You cheerfully explained, si-eun was listening to the whole thing.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Growing up side by side in the same quiet neighborhood, you and Si-eun shared a bond that ran deeper than most childhood friendships. You both built forts out of cardboard boxes, raced bikes down the hill, and traded secrets under the old elm tree at the park. From the time he had moved into the neighborhood, you were inseparable—not out of romance, but simply because of the understanding you guys shared with each other in a way few others did. Si-eun was always a quiet kid, and you never pushed him to speak. Even with little words, you could read him like you wrote the book yourself, he was basically you as a boy. But of course being a boy and a girl who spent nearly every waking hour together made you the target of constant teasing.

Every other kid in the neighborhood seemed convinced you were boyfriend and girlfriend. No matter how many times you and Si-eun made gagging noises or scowled at the suggestion, the rumors never stopped. Even classmates at school chimed in, whispering and giggling whenever you two sat next to each other in class or showed up to events as a pair. It was irritating, and to the both of you, absolutely ridiculous. After all, you saw each other more like siblings than anything romantic.

What was worse were the jokes from your parents, who found endless amusement in imagining a future where the two childhood best friends would “realize their love” and live happily ever after. “Just wait,” Si-eun’s mother would say with a wink, “You’ll end up marrying each other someday.” Your mom would nod and add, “It’s always the childhood friend.” Each time, you two would roll your eyes, exchange looks of mutual horror, and vow—once again—that nothing like that would ever happen. Of course, life has a funny way of turning promises like that into something far more complicated.

Elementary school was the same as early childhood. You two would protect each other from bullies, play on the playground together, sit at lunch together, and walk home together. Kids would see you guys around and point, saying "Everyone says they are boyfriend and girlfriend." and each time you heard that, you'd cover si-eun's ears as you tell them off for spreading rumors. It never bothered him, though, nothing did.

Through middle school, your bond only deepened. you stuck together like glue, shielding each other from the older kids who tried to pick on either one of you, and offering quiet solidarity when either of you had a bad day. You still sat side by side at lunch, signed up for the same electives, and rode the same bus home, where you'd part ways at the driveways with a wave or a sarcastic remark. Of course dating never crossed into your lives—not because you weren’t curious, but because every crush ended up assuming you were already off the market. "Aren’t you with him?" or “Isn’t she your girlfriend?” were questions heard so often, you eventually stopped trying. It wasn’t worth the trouble. At least, not then.

By the time high school rolled around, you found yourselves in fewer classes together, schedules pulling each other in different academic directions. You still clung to the one constant you both had—lunch. It was a sacred part of the day, that small window of time where the chaos of high school could fade away, and you could just be yourselves.

As you both entered senior year, the connection evolved into something quieter but more intense. You skipped classes like a synchronized routine, sometimes ditching school altogether to explore the city or just sit around doing nothing. The friendship became a world of its own—too familiar to question, too easy to fall into. Both of your eighteenth birthdays rolled around, celebrated with family and each other. On weekends, you each rotated between your house and his, lounging around like it was second nature. The teasing never stopped, not from the parents or the few neighborhood kids who hadn’t moved away. But somewhere between all the jokes and assumptions, things began to shift. This time, neither of you was rolling your eyes.

Si-eun had always been reserved, almost unreadable to most people—but to him, you were an open book written in a language only he could understand. He trusted you with parts of himself he wouldn’t even acknowledge aloud. you were beautiful in a way that felt unreal—quiet, grounded, and gentle, the kind of person who he could sit in silence for hours with and you would still make him feel heard. To you, he was a rare kind of boy—sharp-witted, oddly thoughtful, and never once afraid to be silent. He made the world make sense. So when your sixteenth friendship anniversary landed on a weekend where his parents happened to be out of town, and you casually invited yourself over to spend the night, it didn’t feel strange.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"I'm so glad to finally get a turn eating all your food, my house is almost empty," you sighed as you flopped down onto his couch. The cushions sank beneath you, familiar and worn in from the years you'd spent hanging out here—watching movies, doing homework, or just sitting in comfortable silence. Si-eun cleared his throat from the kitchen, where he was rummaging through the fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and the hum of the appliance filling the space.

"You've eaten half my pantry," he called back. He returned with a couple of drinks and dropped onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. The glow from the TV cast flickering light over the room, but neither of you were really paying attention to it. There was a charged stillness between you, the kind that had been building for weeks, maybe longer—something unspoken shifting in the way your glances lingered and how your laughter had gotten just a bit softer.

You looked over at him, your gaze meeting his, and for once, neither of you looked away. The air grew heavy. His hand rested near yours on the couch cushion, just barely brushing your fingers. "You know," you murmured, heart pounding a little faster, "this is the part where one of our parents would come in and say, 'See? Told you two you were meant for each other.'" Si-eun gave a soft, breathless laugh, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in slowly, eyes searching yours for hesitation. When your lips finally met, it was cautious at first—tentative, testing the weight of years of friendship and all the closeness that had come before. But once that boundary broke, everything rushed in at once. The kiss deepened, hungry and heated, hands moving with urgency, mouths meeting again and again like you'd been holding back forever. The room, the years, the world—all faded beneath the pull of each other.

You sat up, throwing your leg over his lap and straddling him. His arms hesitated, finding their way to the curve of your waist. You turned your head to the side, deepening the kiss. Your arms rested on his shoulders and your hands found their way into his hair, pulling softly. He barely had time to think before he was standing up, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you to his bedroom through the kiss.

You pulled away, falling back onto his mattress. He climbed on top of you, face digging into your neck as he left hickeys. He found your sensitive spot, and you sigh deep into his neck, hands finding their way into his hair once more.

"Are we gonna?—" He breathed out

"—If you talk I think I'll snap back into reality. just do it."

And so he does.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You lay there, heavy breaths and moving chests.The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of the TV still playing in the background and the slow rhythm of your breaths. You lay beneath the blankets, the weight of what just happened settling around you like a thick, electric silence. Neither of you spoke at first—not out of discomfort, but out of awe, maybe disbelief, at how something that once seemed impossible now felt right.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you said softly, turning your head to glance at him. Your voice wasn’t nervous or unsure—just honest.

Si-eun let out a sigh  low and breathy. “Yeah.” He looked at you then, serious for a moment. “I think....part of me’s been waiting for that for a long time.”

You blinked, surprised by the confession—but not in a bad way. It was like something inside you clicked into place. Having such an intimate moment with the only boy you could trust for the past sixteen years of your life made you feel as though it was destiny you had invited yourself over tonight. “So... does this mean that everyone was right?” you asked, half-teasing, half-afraid of the answer.

He smiled, that small, rare smile he only gave you when no one else was around. “I think so.”

You nodded slowly, heart thudding in a new kind of rhythm. “If that’s true, I’m okay with it. I think I want it to be true.”

Si-eun wrapped his arm around you, pulling you a little closer. “Then let’s stop pretending it’s not."

And just like that, years of denying, joking, and brushing off the idea dissolved into something simple and certain. For once, everyone else might have actually been right.

A/N: I'm really proud of this I hope you guys like it.

[twicedone]

As someone who regularly thinks about our favourite disaster lesbians, I have a LOT at stake here and I am CLEARLY BIASED towards the DESPERATE NEED FOR GRIDDLEHARK!!!!!!! But! I don't believe that either Harrowhark or Gideon has EVER experienced love in any way, shape, or form. Harrowhark's parents made damn sure to drill into her brain (hehe) that she was a war crime from the time she could understand words and onwards. Harrow has been an object of devotion by everyone around her, and hated by her parents. That's not exactly a great upbringing, there!!! Gideon also hasn't really experienced anything that could be called "love" (though I'm sure she's read about porn-y love in her titty mags) and has been put down by the whole of the ninth her whole life. It was only near the end of her PRIOR life did Gideon experience anything but struggle. I think it's important to set the stage as such, to show that BOTH Harrowhark and Gideon would NOT have a healthy view of love at all. I believe that Harrow did "love" the body, passing on the worship of the Ninth (as she never felt worthy, considering the war crime and all that.) to Alecto and turning her into a god-like figure in her mind. I'm sure some of it was fueled by Taboo, by the idea that she was doing the ONE THING she was never allowed to do!!! I think that over their time in Canaan House, as Harrow and Gideon both are shown somewhat more healthy relationships (though not by much) and forced to face more and more danger... they probably did start to feel for each other, bonding very quickly as a response to the insane circumstances. I hesitate to call it love, because I don't think they're quite able to call it that either. It is something POWERFUL though because lobotomizing yourself and risking permanent and irreversible damage to your psyche to avoid killing the one person who ever cared for you is pretty crazy behaviour!! Then we get to Harrow the Ninth, and it's revealed just how fucked up she is after Gideon's sacrifice and it's like... holy shit. In the few times we're given Harrow's POV we get to see just how bad it is for her!!! Like, she DIES with Gideon's name on her lips!!! She BREAKS DOWN in front of basically everyone she knew and SOBS for Gideon!!! She REFUSES to accept that Gideon sacrificed herself, insisting that she was murdered (she was!)!!! And then to top it all off, at the end of the book when she returns to the tomb to rest and wait for Gideon... in the place of THE BODY is a Sword (Obv Alecto had a sword, but there's also another sword that has been plot-relevant for both GtN and even more-so in HtN) which I 100% believe is Gideon's sword, to further cement this fact is the appearance of Gideon's titty mag "Frontline Titties of the Fifth"... both of these things have REPLACED the body completely!!!!!!!!!!! ALECTO IS NOT THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now whether this is symbolic or literal as Alecto is piloting Harrow's body - I don't know! I want to quote the last bit of Harrow we get before the Nona teaser "The Chains in their great holes were snapped and broken, the ice crawled up the sides of the empty altar. Within that bed of ice and glass, on the stone-shaped pillow to prop the head, that final resting place of Harrowhark's one true love, lay a sword. It was the two-handed sword that had lain at the bottom of the Sleeper's coffin, just as Dyas had seen it." Now I don't know about you but I think that's some pretty damning fucking evidence that Harrow is head over heels for Gideon. Then we get to Nona and the whole "saddest girl in the world" thing with Kiriona, and Nona kissing her (in Harrow's body (and remember that Nona's thing is that she can read people REALLY FUCKING WELL)) because Gideon looked like she really wanted a kiss!!! GOD I WANT ALECTO THE NINTH TO COME OUT PLEASE FUCK!!!!! ahem, sorry. this went on for a bit longer than I thought it would, sorry for rambling!!! All-in-All Griddlehark is the best and I'll sob forever if it Tamsyn doesn't give it to us.

One theory(?) I do not see often, surprisingly, about tlt is how Harrow never actually thought she was in love with the body.

I see it often discussed as 'she confused worship and love.' But I think her never being in love with the body is just as believable.

The first time it is assumed, it was by Gideon, who never felt strongly about religion. Harrow does not confirm it, and pushes Gideon in the pool, and often time, refusal to speak upon an assumption or strong denial means it is the truth. However, right before Gideon assumes the nature of Harrow's love is romantic, it is framed like a kiss between Harrow and Gideon is going to happen. And Harrow clearly is expecting it to happen as well. Imagine your crush is leaning in, as if to kiss you, only to ask if you're in love with Jesus Chirst and you're a devout Christian. I believe that pushing off your crush in the pool out of embarrassment and frustration is only fair then.

Then, there is the entirety of Harrow The Ninth. This time it's different, it is not an outsider believing Harrow is in love with a corpse/religious symbol, it's Harrow herself. And while it sounds just like I'm disproving my own theory, we have to remember in what state Harrow was in, and what we know of her. Harrow spends a good two-thirds of the book trying desperately to fill a blank. She does not know what the blank is, but she knows it's there and not right. All of the instances where she is shown to be infatuated with the body could be read as her taking the one thing she feels is closest to what she lost, and shoving it in that place to replace it. No, she could not have filled the blank with Ianthe, she has not known her long enough for her to fill the earlier blanks. It needed to be something that had a very strong presence in her early life. I believe the end of Harrow The Ninth goes very well with this interpretation as well. She finds out the truth, and what represents the thing she stuffed into the 'blank' is filled with what was originally the blank.

Then, the epilogue of Nona The Ninth. Again, we don't have Harrow's thoughts on what happens, and she seemingly does not have a lovestruck reaction to it. 'Why are you not appeased?' an easy answer would be that it is not what she actually wanted. Nona's really good at reading people's body language, and it does kind of disproves that point, I'll admit. But still, the thought can be entertained that Alecto misinterpreted Harrow's fervor, or that as Alecto, she is less great at reading people. She is too big an unknown for me to be sure.

Either way both theories are very fun to me, I just think this one should be considered more !

[ballsandbabes]

Messy: Rin Itoshi x reader

Authors Note: y/n = your name// not proof read// GIF not mine // Have fun <3

Summary: A grounded, emotionally layered story about the hardships of a relationship with Rin.

Genre: maybe angst → fluff/ comfort

Rin Itoshi was not easy to love.

You knew that from the start — from the way he stared through people instead of at them, from the clipped words he used like they cost him something, from how soccer wasn't just his focus but his entire world. It wasn’t romantic. It was real.

You’d fallen for him anyway. His passion, discipline and dedication had gotten you. How he worked tirelessly to do better, to achieve his dreams and goals and how he didn't care what others thought of his path. You found your qualities remarkable.

And he’d let you in — slowly, awkwardly, but genuinely. That was the thing with Rin: he never faked anything. Not affection, not distance, not even the silence when he didn’t know how to respond.

He never said "I love you" in the ways others did. Instead, he walked you home without asking. Sent you links to things he thought you’d like — even if they were weird or technical or had no subtitles. He showed up. Not with flowers, but with effort.

But love, especially with Rin, was messy.

The first fight was about a game. More accurately — about how he didn’t tell you he had one.

You had been planning to visit your family that weekend and asked him to come with you. He said “maybe” three times over two weeks, gave no real answer… and then texted you the night before:

Can't. Game tomorrow. - Rin

You stared at the screen for a long time. Not angry, not even disappointed — just tired.

You could’ve told me sooner. -You

Didn’t know if I’d start. Wasn’t sure. Doesn’t matter. - Rin

It matters to me, Rin. I’m not just part of your schedule. - You

No reply. You didn’t talk for three days. You learned — painfully — that Rin didn’t avoid you out of malice. He just... didn’t always know what to say. Or how to say it. He processed things in long, quiet spirals. Needed time, space, predictability.

He wasn't selfish. He was overwhelmed.

So, you started meeting him halfway. Instead of assuming, you’d ask directly. Instead of waiting for him to initiate affection, you'd offer it without strings. But you also held boundaries. You told him, clearly: “I’m here for you — but not at the cost of myself.”

He blinked at that. Quiet for a long moment. Then said something you still remember: “I'm trying. I just don't always know when I'm wrong. Unless you tell me.”

There were other fights. Some sharper, some smaller. Rin, hyper-focused and emotionally distant, would forget important dates. He’d shut down mid-conversation when he got overstimulated. He didn’t always understand your sarcasm. He needed routines — and sometimes, you disrupted them just by being near. Disrupting him by, wanting to do other things with you, other things than what his routine said.

But every time, he listened. And slowly, so did you. You started to see that when he left the door unlocked after practice, it wasn’t carelessness — it was because he was in his head, replaying drills. When he snapped at you after a bad game, it wasn’t disrespect — it was because he didn’t know how to handle his failure.

You weren’t there to fix him. And he never asked you to. Instead, you both learned to understand.

The turning point came late one night, after a long day. You were studying at his place, the desk cramped and books everywhere. He was sitting on the floor doing stretches in complete silence — until he muttered:

“Do you think I’m hard to love?,” he asked bluntly.

You looked up, startled. “What?”

“I mess everything up. You get upset. I don’t know what to say. I just… I can’t stop thinking about soccer, its important for me. I want to. But I can’t. It’s like everything else is foggy.”

You walked over and knelt in front of him. He didn’t look at you.

“You’re not hard to love, Rin,” you whispered. “You’re just learning. And so am I.”

He nodded once — stiffly — then leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to be better. For you.”

You built something real from that. He started using timers and reminders so he wouldn’t forget dates. You learned how to say what you needed clearly, without waiting for him to guess. He started showing you his world — letting you into his rituals, his routines, his first love - soccer. You helped him with recovery stretches, packed him snacks with sticky notes tucked inside.

“I read what you said in the note,” he murmured once, eyes down.

“Yeah?,” you asked happily.

“I liked it.”

It had just said: I’m proud of you. No matter what. The relationship didn’t become perfect. Instead it became honest.

It was full of quiet victories — like him pulling you close during a rough day instead of shutting down. Or you not taking his silence personally. Or the night he said “I missed you” without you prompting him.

And one rainy day, after a game he lost by one goal, he came off the field, soaked and silent, and found you waiting near the lockers.

He walked straight up to you, dropped his bag, and whispered: “I hate losing.”

“I know,” you said as you looked him in the eyes.

“I....I don’t want to lose you.”

“Rin....You won’t,” you said, first being shocked, then with an unmatched love and softness in your voice. Then he kissed you — soft and unsure, but full of everything he didn’t know how to say.

Love was messy. But so was he. And so were you.

And somehow… it worked. Together.

BONUS

The match hadn’t gone well. You could tell by the way Rin moved — stiff and silent, his jaw set so tightly it looked carved from stone. He didn’t speak much on the way home, except to mutter “I’m fine” when you asked if he wanted to stop for food.

He wasn’t fine. You both knew that. But you didn’t push him. Not anymore. You knew by now — he’d come to you when the storm in his head passed. When he knew how to talk to you about it.

So, you waited. You curled up on his couch, reading while he showered. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was just… Rin. Present, even in his quiet. When he finally walked out of the bathroom, hair damp, shirt clinging to his frame, he looked at you for a long second. Then padded over and dropped down beside you.

Still no words. Then — slowly — he reached for your book, closed it, and set it aside. You blinked up at him.“…Okay?”

Rin looked down, not quite meeting your eyes.

“I bought you something,” he said gruffly.

You raised an eyebrow. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small box. No wrapping. Just tape. His version of a gift.

You opened it. Inside was a keychain — a tiny replica of a soccer cleat, your favorite color, with your initials hand-painted on the side.

It was ugly. Slightly crooked. Clearly handmade. Your throat tightened.

“You made this?” you asked softly. He nodded, still not looking at you. “There’s a guy at the training center who custom-paints cleats. I asked him to help. It took forever. I messed it up twice.”

You stared at the tiny keychain in your palm. “It’s perfect,” you whispered. Rin finally looked at you then — his face unreadable but eyes soft.

“I’m not good at words,” he said. “Or emotions. Or… any of that stuff.”

“I know.”

“But I remember the things you say. I try to do things that matter. Even if they’re small. I know i am a lot...”

You set the keychain down and leaned into him, your hand sliding up to cup his jaw. “That’s more than enough,” you whispered. “You’re more than enough.”

He kissed you then — not out of heat or impulse, but something deeper. Slow. Anchored. Like he was trying to tell you without words: Thank you for staying. Thank you for seeing me. When you pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours.

“I’m not easy,” he murmured.

“Good,” you smiled. “I don’t like easy.”

He rolled his eyes. But he was smiling too.

[imma-soft-beeboy]

For your short fic/headcannon request: Soundwave that hides his face for a specific reason. Like his emotions show easily or something and he gets embarrassed.

A/N: Holy cow the amount of asks I got was amazing! I can't wait to write them all! Thank you guys so much & keep them coming! I'm trying to get back into writing & what better way than to jump in feet first. Anyway let's talk about my boy Soundwave...

I like to headcanon Soundwave somewhere on the autism spectrum. He's verbally selective, covers his face, has a special interest in communications & sound, speaks very bluntly... you get the picture. So for me, him covering his face for the war seems logical, but let me explain

Before the war, Soundwave didn't cover his face at all.

Soundwave clearly has a problem with tone or inflection, his words often coming out monotone, and for the neurotypical bots, I think this might have led to a couple of frustrating interactions

Imagine Soundwave trying to congratulate a coworker or admire someone's work, and it just comes out so flat that the other bot thinks he's mocking them or being sarcastic. As a result, Soundwave started using his facial expressions to make his intentions clear

He couldn't change his voice so he let his emotions hang clearly on his face, which wasn't hard because he was a naturally emotive bot as is

Soon, bots could pick up on the true meaning of his words by reading his face. A 'nice job' could be mocking or truthful if you just looked at the bot's optics. Or a dry humor joke finally landed because other bots could see the lift at the corners of Soundwave's intake

It just became natural; Soundwave's voice didn't tell you much, but his face always would. And the bots around him learned to read his face like a book.

When the war started, obviously, things changed. During war times one must hold their cards close to their chest; earn a reputation. Logically, the first thing Soundwave did was try to cut back on his facial expressions.

He leaned into his monotone voice to order troops around and strike fear in his enemies. He wanted to be feared and respected.

This want became a need once Megatron labeled him as one of his top men. And it's right around this time he picked up, covering his face.

He couldn't let his emotions slip, so he took them away completely.

First, it was just a face cover; a mask to cover the twitches, upticks, and pouting of his derma. He thought this would be enough... sadly it was not

Starscream most likely fed into the doubt the most constantly teasing the commander for his optics. "They show your entire spark!" "I can read every thought in your processor." Followed by that annoying laughter Starscream has.

Because Soundwave is so sensitive & emotion-driven he would take this mockery very seriously. It would plague his processor during recharge hours and distract him during drills or meetings. In order to properly do his work, he'd have to remedy this at once.

Thus, his visor was born.

With his monotone voice and visor-mask combo Soundwave truly was the ideal soldier. And he climbed the ranks further.

All new recruits fear him; no one knew if his threats were jokes or real. No one knew if his pauses were meaningful or to cover up a deep disdain for those below him.

Megatron recognizing this change very quickly kept promoting Soundwave until he reached his revered 3rd in command status. With the reward & recognition Soundwave had finally become the perfect soldier in his mind and thus he stayed that way.

People who knew him before the war barely recognized him at first glance. Sure he had the same paint job & build but surely that can't be Soundwave. Soundwave was emotional, loved to crack jokes & didn't have any face coverings.

But as soon as Soundwave spoke everyone knew who he was, no one could mistake that voice. Autobots would freeze, hearing that voice with all the coverings... what had the war done to their old friend? He was genuinely terrifying now.

After the war, I like to think Soundwave slowly started to phase out his facial coverings. As he followed a path to redemption & earned his place back in society he started healing. He started letting his emotions show again.

Eventually the visor and mask would be gone and everyone including Soundwave would breathe a sigh of relief, because now things can go back to normal.

Now he can make jokes and smile so everyone knows it's a joke, now he can practice active listen without people living in fear that his silence was heated.

Something about taking of the covers helps him heal post-war and makes him realize he would never want to do that again

[lord-of-the-bundle-of-sticks]

i have a really strong feeling i will absolutely love these two

omg these gifs are so bad you GET THE POINT

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Time for another reblog because even though my queue still isn't finished, it's been a year since I started up this game! I wanted to have everything done and posted by now, but it's been hard to just finish the one I'm posting later today (another one got away from me), so despite that I'm still going to open this up like I planned and get the first batch of 2025 underway, and I'll switch between both so the new requests don't have to wait as long!

I still have a few weeks of extra shifts to do and then my days will be open again with free time, with LtF being done that helps a ton, so let's get this started 👉😏👉Prompts are still the same, but now that DD has new stuff coming out starting this month, feel free to also ask for them! For this batch I wanna see new guys, rare guys, prompts I haven't gotten to work with before! Challenge me while I finish up the previous 10 fics, my queue is over here so you can see who's still waiting, and have at it 🥰

As a bit of a warning right now though, the fates still haven't allowed me to meet Joe yet OTL and I'll probably save Gurathin requests until I get a better grasp at him since I have no interests in reading the books (yet?), especially when the show is still going to avoid spoilers. You can still ask for either, but they'll just be pushed a little further down the queue until I can confidently write them too 🖤

DD Emoji Ask Game

This is an emoji/ask meme just for DD's characters, which I reopen whenever my queue runs out. Included are all the popular ones (movies and TV only) I've seen in his tag with a whole ton of prompts that can be mixed and matched, so if you like my work and would like to request your own reader with one of his characters, then please shoot me an ask and take part with me 💗

Exception: I won't ever take Breck requests since I'm keeping him in his own strict universe and everything feels wrong for him and his reader (Bunny, inspired specifically by my sole requester) outside of it, same goes for Joshua after so long. Everyone else, even if they have their own series and you'd like something outside of it, is free game!

Type (Optional)

🤔 Headcanon(s)

📖 Drabble

Characters

🤹 Abner Krill (The Suicide Squad)

🎆 Abra Kadabra (The Flash)

🕸 Bob Taylor (Prisoners)

🧛‍♂️ Dr Fearless

🤡 Dwight Pollard (Gotham)

👁️ Gurathin (Murderbot)

😚 Hank (Virgin Alexander)

🦉 Jack Delroy (Late Night With the Devil)

👓 James Lewis (Teacher)

😷 Joe (Rosario)

🚬 Johnson (Reprisal)

🖌️ Joshua Whitmore (Cass, has his own series/world)

💻 Kurt (Ant-Man)

🥺 Lester Billings (The Boogeyman, also has a series/world)

⚡ Lightning (AfrAId)

🔧 Lonny Crane (The Belko Experiment)

🔫 Murdoc (MacGyver 2016)

🙏 Piter De Vries (Dune)

⛓️ Ray Watkins (The Rookie)

💣 Simon Lynch (Almost Human, also has a series/world)

🃏 Thomas Schiff (The Dark Knight)

⛵ Wojchek (The Last Voyage of the Demeter)

🥃 Wright (aka The Writer, Making Love)

🎲 Random

😶 Unlisted (Specify, can be pretty much anyone he's played)

Prompts

😢 Angst

😊 Cute

💭 Dreams

🍼 Family

😨 Fear

🐑 Fluff

🤝 Friends

❣️ Happiness

💔 Hate

⛅ Hopes

🩹 Hurt/Comfort

❤️ Love

🎵 Music/Dancing

🤗 Platonic

🥰 Romantic

🔞 Smut

🌶️ Spicy

🍭 Sweet

🎯 Random

✏️ Unlisted (Specify)

[hurtcomforted]

I don't think I'll ever be able to understand how top gun got from literally non existent to premiere in less than two years

[ismyteadoneyet]

I've ranted a whole lot about the importance of physical media in the past. I love physical media. I have a CD and vinyl collection of stuff from my favorite bands, and am currently getting back into reading and found I vastly prefer physical books over both ebooks and audiobooks. I got the entire DVD box of ATLA last year just so that I can watch it whenever I like.

But it took me until today to realize that the reason why is because of how badly all these digital streaming service-platforms have affected me.

Like, I found art from a webcomic a while ago that I thought looked really interesting, but have been putting off reading the thing for MONTHS. I couldn't quite put my finger on why until I found out yesterday that there are printed, physical copies for sale of the entire webcomic itself in book format. And despite absolutely insane shipping costs, I could at some point buy it, and keep it.

And now I finally started reading it, and I'm loving it.

Turns out, I would rather put myself through sickening, nauseating FOMO than risk the piece of media getting taken off the platform it's available on in the middle of me reading/watching it.

What the fuck.

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror movie-DC x DP prompt

Based on my favorite book series "tales from the gas station"

It's not every day that a mission requires the league to travel to middle America in a bid to obtain a highly cursed artifact but it certainly is today.

Locating the Seal of Silent Ashes was a task usually given to Justice League Dark but Constantine was currently busy. So that meant it was left to the poster boys to get this done. They dressed in civilian attire to investigate the last location of the seal starting with the first building on the edge of town. A small dusty gas station near the woods.

The inside had an awful smell, like death and cleaning fluid. The lights gave off a greenish-blue tint. Rats could be seen out of the corner of your eyes. Most of the chips were offbrand and crappy.

Behind the counter was the teenage boy chewing gum. He looked up at the group before going back to reading his book. He had clearly seen better days but didn't show signs of caring about the state of his hair or bags under his eyes. He drank his coffee.

The air felt off.

"Hey kiddo, do you mind giving us directions?" Clark started.

The kid narrowed his eyes as he popped his gum.

"You're not from here. That or you're from that cult in the woods. Listen I'm not joining. Seriously, cosmic nihilism and fatalism sounds doomed. Hey wait-" the teen checked his notes " No, the cult killed themselves in that mass suicide 2 weeks ago. I forgot, sorry."

The teen didn't say anything else as he went back to his book.

The horrified look of the adults shared was almost hilarious. At least to the teen if he looked up.

"Oh, and stay out of the woods. I don't want the police to come back and ask about who saw you last. Seriously if whatever is in there tears you apart I won't feel bad. I put those signs out forever ago and if I get one more girl covered in blood running in here screaming about her dead friends I'll get a headache." The teen shrugged turning the page.

"What do you mean?! Why would-?! Who's killing people?!" Barry asked frantically as Bruce serched for more reports of missing people in the area.

"I don't know. Why would I know? If you want to go in the cursed forest go ahead. I mean that's how they all die. It isn't my job to stop you. My job is to sit here and watch this store." The teen huffed in annoyance.

Before anymore questions were asked the signal of the radio was disrupted and a demonic howl screeched through the radio.

"God damnit. That cunt is back. Stay here." The teen growled as he grabbed his bat from under the counter and walked out the back door. "String bean! Get off the fucking roof you bastard! You know that radio is all I have here!"

A chattering laugh like a death rattle was heard and the sound of 2 sets of feet was heard on the roof then they lept down.

"Come here so I can beat you to death!" The teen ran around the building towards the front of the gas station chasing-what the fuck is that!

It was like a human that was twisted to crabwalk on all fours backwards. Its face was contorted into a black stretched-out smile with no teeth. It had no eyes just black sockets. All its limbs were stretched out to an extra meter in length. It was a skinwalker of some kind with chalk-white skin. It was skittering away from the teen who was swinging his bat at its head.

"Stop running! I told you before what would happen if I found you fucking with me again!" The boy meant it as he finally landed a hit and began wacking it over and over it.

The skin walker screeched and tried to run for its life but couldn't.

After reducing the monster into a black puddle the black-stained teen came back inside to sit back down not paying anymore to the monster blood he was covered in.

"Sorry about that. Most of the freaks around here have learned to stay away from this place. That one is new and he doesn't listen. You'd think they'd learn but Sting Bean thinks he can torment me. Petty bastard." The teen sighed "anyways are going to buy anything or are you going to waste what oxygen we get in here with this shitty ventilation.

Diana couldn't help but admire the boldness of the boy. He had no hesitation or fear against the beasts of this area even if was crude.

"Does Constantine have a cousin or something? Just a more angry one" Barry whispered to Hal.

[finelinefae]

bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things. 

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket. 

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go. 

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week. 

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe. 

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people. 

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything. 

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’. 

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket. 

She read his bio beneath. 

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it. 

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words. 

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric. 

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :) 

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours 

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials 

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message. 

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it. 

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company 

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay? 

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay. 

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read 

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end. 

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really? 

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something. 

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi 

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !! 

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name 

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi 

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi 

. . . 

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering. 

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did. 

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure. 

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. 

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving. 

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. 

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?” 

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.” 

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company. 

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people. 

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her. 

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi. 

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head. 

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office. 

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about. 

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows. 

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath. 

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. 

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office. 

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?” 

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?” 

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card. 

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds. 

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car. 

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring. 

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally. 

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.” 

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped. 

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel. 

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy. 

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did. 

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered. 

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words. 

. . . 

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean. 

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager. 

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went. 

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry. 

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door. 

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?” 

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly. 

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.” 

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto. 

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy. 

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers. 

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him. 

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past. 

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone.  But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . . 

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary. 

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled. 

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit. 

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb. 

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

[13eyond13]

.

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body. 

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. “But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He��s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued.  Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

 "JJ!"

 "That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

 "Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey. 

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

*

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

*

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim. 

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

[smutoperator]

Brotherly Love

Kim Minji, Kang Haerin x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 6

Part 1 of 4 of All In Family

Main kinks: incest, gaping, ass eating

Word count: 4471.

Minji always had the utmost respect for her older brother. However, over the past few months, she started having some feelings for him that she just couldn't shake off.

Minji and her bickering friend Haerin love to masturbate together, sharing their fantasies with each other as they competed to see which one would orgasm the fastest, but one day, Minji just blew her best friend out of the water.

"Damn, Minji, you came so quickly today; why are you so horny?" Haerin asked. "Well, it's my brother; it feels like I can't wait to fuck him," she replied. "What the fuck, Minji, do you want to have sex with your brother? That's too far. Why can't you find another guy?" Haerin asks. "Well, I want him, only him," Minji answered. "And I want you to share him with me as well," she continued.

"Really? Damn Minji, you're just a naughty girl," Haerin answered, but her orgasm following up those words told Minji more than anything. She wanted her brother too. "Well, tomorrow I'm going to his house; you want to come with me?" Minji asked. "I guess I can do that," Haerin answered.

Minji and Haerin arrived at your house, where you kindly prepared some breakfast for them. "He is fucking hot," Minji whispered in Haerin's ear as you kept working on the kitchen. Haerin just nodded positively. "I wonder if he has a big dick," Minji then followed, closing her eyes and smiling as she couldn't hold her excitement.

"Here's some nice omelet, little sister," you said to Minji, serving her the food. "Thank you," she kindly answered and kept staring at you. Just like Minji heavily respected you, you also treated her very well, extremely proud that your younger sister had become one of the most popular idols in the country and always being there to offer her a helping hand like today. 

"Thank you," Haerin also answered when you served her. "I'll be in the living room; see you later, little sister. You too, Haerin," you said. "Bye," Harin answered, quickly finding out why Minji liked you so much beyond just the typical brotherly love. Now she just needed to know what Minji was also dying to know: if you had a big dick or not.

"I'm so horny right now; I think we should make a move," Minji said to Haerin. "Ok," her younger friend answered, blushing. Minji had some second thoughts but she was really turned on by the idea of having sex with her brother, so she discussed a plan with Haerin.

"I'll go first; you then come and surprise him," Minji said. She was indeed a little selfish and wanted to taste your cock before anyone else, but she also felt more enjoyable doing a threesome with her brother than having sex with him all by herself. The two discussed this rather simple plan in the kitchen as they looked at you in the living room, before Minji finally went for it.

"Hey," you said as Minji approached you on the couch, already spreading her legs to show off her new denim shorts that barely covered her ass. "What are you doing, brother?" she asked. "Just reading a book," you answered. "What about you?" you then asked. "Nothing really," Minji said. "Also, you can read it later," she said, pushing the book to the side.

"What are you doing?" you asked. "Come on, I see the way you look at me," Minji says. "Let's do some forbidden things," Minji says, rubbing your belly with your shirt still on. "Come on," you resist her moves.

But Minji is relentless. "I know you want me to suck your cock," she says, rubbing her hands on your crotch now. "You're already hard for me," she notices. "I'm not the only one horny for you, brother; I saw the way you stared at me and Haerin at the kitchen," she said, catching you by surprise.

"Please, stop it," you tell Minji to back off, but she is way too deep into her fantasy at this point. "Let me take that cock in your mouth and give you a good blowjob; show you I'm a good little sister to my big brother," she answers. 

"Okay," you answer as Minji kisses you and touches your crotch area. "Can I please your cock, big brother?" Minji asks. "Yes," you answer, caving to your little sister's desires. "I've been dreaming about it," Minji says. "Really?" you ask her, surprised. "Yes, literally," Minji says, thinking about those nights where she masturbated to the thought of having sex with you.

"Alright, if it's your dream, fine. I will always do what my little sister wants," you say to her, unzipping your pants and showing your giant anaconda to Minji. "Oh my God, can I touch it?" she asks. "Yes," you say. Minji starts rubbing and stroking it. "Does it feel good when I jack your big cock off?' she keeps asking. "Yes," you answer, impressed by your little sister's cock handling skills.

"You want me to put it in my mouth, don't you?" Minji asks, giving you a sexy stare as she increases the pace of stroking it. "Sure, I want to feel your warm mouth; do it," you tell her as you unbutton your shirt as well.

Minji slowly descends down, kissing you from top to bottom, starting all the way up in your mouth, going through your torso, and finishing at the tip of your cock, sending shivers down your spine when she does it. She gives your shaft a pair of licks before just putting the tip in her mouth. "Ahhhh," you groan as Minji firmly grabs that pole and sucks it masterfully.

"Oh my God, that feels so wrong, but you suck my cock so well; your mouth is so nasty and sloppy," you say to Minji, who remains concentrated on sucking it off and gently jerking that shaft. "Wow, ahhh, shit," you say as Minji massages your balls and keeps blowing your cock off while your head rests on the couch, trying to cope with the heat she puts on your dick.

"My best friend is so horny." Haerin comes in and sits beside you on the couch as Minji keeps sucking that big cock. "What's going on here?" you ask. "Don't you think I should join you guys?" Haerin asks. "It certainly looks fun," she says. "That's such a crazy day," you say. "Well, it's just starting," Haerin says, kissing you.

Haerin and you share kisses as Minji keeps sucking your cock. "I love watching my best friend suck your cock," Haerin says, pulling the new jeans she was wearing down and starting masturbating herself to the scene. Indeed, she always thought of Minji's fantasies with her brother, but seeing it in real life was much hotter than what she was expecting.

"Does your sister do a good job sucking your cock?" Haerin asks as she masturbates in front of you. "Sure," you answer her, looking at her teen pussy as she already pulls her panties down. "Do you want me to suck it too?" Haerin than answers as Minji moves deeper and makes you groan. "You want to suck my cock too?" you ask, shocked. "Yes, of course," Haerin answers. "It's just too good and too big for Minji to have it all to herself," she continues.

"Can I suck your cock?' Haerin politely asks. "Yes," you answer as Minji pulls her mouth out of it and strokes it for her best friend. Haerin dives to take your cock in her mouth, bobbing her head really fast as Minji keeps stroking it. "Oh yeah, hmmmm," she says as both girls take turns diving on it.

"You wanna see who can take it the deepest?" Minji challenges Haerin. "Sure," she answers. "You first," Minji then says. Haerin only takes half your length in her mouth, but the warmth of it drives you crazy. Minji pushes it further, taking around two-thirds of it in her horny mouth. Haerin tries to match but clearly struggles, gagging after just a couple seconds and coating your tip full of her spit.

Minji easily wins the deepthroating competition, taking the full length of your cock in her mouth in the third try. "I was just toying with you; I could have done it from the start," she says to Haerin as she takes the tip of your shaft while Haerin licks it from the side. They switch spots, with Haerin still struggling to get your cock all the way down her mouth. "Come on," Minji says as a string of her spit comes out of your balls and she licks your shaft sideways like a maniac.

Haerin accepts the challenge, finally getting all the way down your shaft. "Perfect," Minji says. "Now you proved to me you can take it in your pussy and ass," Minji continues. "You're such a dirty girl," Haerin says as she watches Minji use her mouth like a vacuum cleaner sucking your dick and then share kisses with her best friend as they taste your cock from their mouths.

"Ahhhhh," you groan as Haerin finally seems comfortable now deepthroating your cock. Her warm, young mouth is such a good fit for your shaft. Minji smiles as they engage themselves in a sloppy head-bobbing and deepthroating competition that drives you on the edge. "Oh my god," you groan each time they reach the base of your shaft.

"I can't believe I'm sucking my brother's cock," Minji says. Both girls smile as they taste it, but you want to push it further. "Let me fuck your mouths next," you tell them, getting up from the couch and stripping yourself naked, whole. Minji takes her jeans off and puts her big ass facing upwards as both she and Haerin get on all fours to get facefucked.

You start with Haerin's young, warm mouth, pounding her face hard as it turns red, and she tightens her mouth on your shaft, quickly gagging. Minji comes next, barely flinching as you fuck her throat and even answering with some head-bobbing. "Open it, please," you say as you switch back to Haerin and give her a second go, grabbing her hair as she clearly struggles with your massive shaft ripping her mouth apart like a sword.

You take turns switching your cock between their mouths, Minji clearly getting the best of it as you manage to push it deeper in hers, your little sister bobbing her head without even needing to use her hands. Once you finish it, both girls then lick the tip of your anaconda like hungry snakes.

"Come here, little sister, give me your pussy," you command to Minji, who spreads her legs as you start licking her pussy and asshole and then giving some kisses that make her moan. Haerin just watches. You spread her big asscheeks and keep tonguing her fuckholes. "Oh yeah," Minji moans. "Spread your ass," you tell Minji, tonguing deeper into it. "It feels so good when you put your tongue in my ass," she moans, fingering herself as you then move up to her cunt.

Haerin kisses her best friend as you savor Minji's clit and anus and enjoy your sister moaning with her legs fully spread. It doesn't take long for you to start rubbing your shaft against her entrance, slowly penetrating Minji's pussy and catching her by surprise. "Oh yes," she says, feeling your cock get inside her. "Oh my God, brother, that dick is so big it can barely fit in my pussy," Minji says, smiling at you.

"Fuck, oh, ah," Minji moans as you slowly thrust inside her pussy. Haerin keeps kissing her as you keep your sister's legs spread out, placing your thumb right in her clit as you pick up the pace and grabbing her little waist, enjoying her moans as you get deeper into her tight pussy. "Hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmm, hmmmm, oh yeah," Minji moans as you quickly fuck her quite fast, enjoying her young wet pussy a lot, putting your thumb in her mouth to muffle her moans in a futile effort, with Minji quickly turning into a moaning mess as you thrust hard and your balls clap against her soft skin.

You feed your cock for Haerin to taste, pushing her head against your shaft for her to savor your sister's tasty pussy. "Spit on it," you tell Haerin as she offers the extra lube you need to go back inside Minji's tight pussy. All your sister can do is moan like a slut, especially when Haerin fingers her clit while you keep fucking Minji, really regretting taking so long to get inside her amazing, wet, and tight cunt, even though you knew for a long while your little sister was a special kind of girl.

"OH FUCK!" Minji screams as you move upwards and start kissing her, switching from your standard missionary fucking position into a more powerful mating press that makes her big ass hit hard against the couch. Haerin lies Minji's face on her lap as she whispers dirty words about your sister to you while enjoying your passionate kisses and Minji reaching her moaning tongue to lick her perky young tits. You keep attacking Minji's pussy relentlessly, her body getting completely pressed against the couth until you bring it up and carry-fuck your little sister under Haerin's watch. "OH YEAH!" Minji screams as she gets pounded hard.

"Suck it," you tell Haerin as you carry your sister and pull out of Minji, feeding her young friend with your big shaft. Minji stays moaning as you get her back on her feet and bring Haerin to take her turn, rubbing your cock against her entrance before going in, fucking her the same way you did Minji. "You like fucking that pink young pusssy, Daddy?" she asks. "Yes," you say, groaning that her young hole is even tighter than your sister's.

"FUCK, OH GOD!" Haerin screams as Minji's hands join your cock in pleasing her pussy. You grab her legs and push your cock deeper into her cunt, making her pray even further for God. You then tease Haerin, going in and out of her pussy while Minji kisses her, groaning a lot as you can feel how tight she is, more so when Minji fingers her clit and makes Haerin's walls clench specially hard.

You avoid a close call by pulling out of Haerin, only for Minji to come right in to taste your cock from her friend's pussy. "You two are nasty girls," you tell them. "But you love doing that, Daddy? Fucking your little baby and little sister like that, right?" Haerin asks. "Yeah," you answer, getting back inside her for some extra fun. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," she moans as you fuck her hard and kiss your sister like you were her boyfriend.

But Minji wants more. "Come put your cock in my ass, please," she tells you, giving you a naughty stare. "Your cock is so huge, big brother, I wonder if it can get all the way inside my tiny little asshole. Please, stick it in my ass," Minji says as Haerin mores aside.

"I can't believe I'm doing this, fucking my own sister in the ass," you say as you push just the tip in Minji's butthole but struggle against her tightness. "Wow," you say as Minji's anal walls leave hardly any space for your large cock. "Oh my God, your cock is huge in my ass, fuck yeah, you're really stretching me open," an excited Minji says as you slowly but surely get deeper inside it.

You and Haerin pinch Minji's nipples. "Wow, they are getting so hard," she says. "Spread that fat ass for me, little sister," you tell Minji, who obliges as you now also pinch her clit. Your cock is only halfway up her ass, and she already moans softly. "HMMMM, HMMMM, HMMMMM," she says as you kiss Haerin and then dive to lick your sister's tits. More push and you get deeper, massaging her pussy and spreading her lips open as you also spread her butthole open. 

You get more aggressive, moving onto hard thrusts up Minji's ass while increasing the pace you finger her clit. You love the way Minji's throbbing clit pulsates while you fuck her ass, especially with your hands all over it. You get completely on top of your little sister, pushing deeper into her tight anal cavity, making her moan and scream loud. "OH FUCK YEAH," Minji says, before offering an indecent proposal to her best friend.

"Now you have to try his cock in your ass," Minji says to Haerin. The youngster obliges as she spreads her legs for her turn next. Once again, just getting the tip in is a struggle; these girls have really tight anuses. But you push hard and manage to get in. "Oooh yeah," Haerin moans as soon as your cock pushes deeper in her butt.

"Oh my God, this cock looks so good in your ass," Minji tells her best friend. All Haerin can do is close her eyes as you take it very slow with her, as she is so sensible in there that just your tip inside makes her quickly react. You ease Haerin up, getting your cock in and out of her ass repeatedly. "Oh my God, I don't know if I can take it," Haerin claims. "Well, let's see," you tell her.

"That looks so hot," Minji says as you keep pushing against Haerin's butt and lick her feet. "OUCH," the young girl says, trying to cope with the pain in her tiny ass. She gasps from time to time and prays to God as things go fairly slowly. Minji just watches as Haerin finally gets more than half of your cock inside her. You finally get deeper but still go nice on her, trying to not break your sister's best friend. "FUCKKKK," Haerin screams from time to time as you use Minji's mouth to lube your cock while Haerin spreads her ass for some gape.

"I think you should teach her," you say to Minji, who turns around and gets herself on all fours, flaunting her biggest ass to you as you get on top of your sister, and she kisses Haerin. "Look at that ass, perfect to get stuffed," you say as your cock slides back inside Minji's butthole. Minji closes her eyes and moans really loud. "HMMMMM, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHH," she says. "You like watching my little sister getting fucked in the ass?" you ask Haerin. "Of course," she answers.

"Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, ummmmm, oh my God," Minji keeps moaning as you grab her waist and pound her ass from behind. "You like getting fucked like that in the ass, slutty little sister?" you ask her. "Defiinitely, ahhhh fuck, oh God, yeah," Minji answers, her asshole now getting gaped really hard, which she notices. "My ass gapes so much; look how good this big cock is stretching it out," she says as you grab her butt and spread her cheeks even further.

Minji stays on all fours, getting her ass stuffed hard. You go faster and faster, determined to take your cock into the depths of your little sister's anus. "Oh yeah, keep going, brother, hmmmm," Minji says as you thrust hard inside her butt before pushing out to show off the massive gape in her anus. "I want you to make my gape really big," Minji demands as the anal pounding session keeps going for a while. "Do you feel it stretching your ass out? Do you like that?" you ask Minji. "Yes, brother," she answers as a massive gape pops out of her anus.

"I want it back in my ass, daddy," Haerin says as soon as you take your cock off of Minji's tight butthole. Haerin replaces her as you kiss your sister. "Such a good girl," you say to Minji as your cock slowly makes its way back inside Haerin's butt. "You like to watch your best friend being fucked in the ass by your brother?" you ask Minji. "Hell yes, its so fucking hot," she answers.

You bury your cock deep in Haerin's asshole, her butt getting quickly romped as you fuck her in the same position you did Minji. The young girl closes her eyes and feels very relaxed. Minji licks Haerin's ears as you attack her ass harder and deeper, showing Minji how deep your cock is getting inside of her best friend. "So good," you say as Haerin moans and screams.

A massive gape comes off Haerin's butthole after a few minutes, much larger than the one from Minji, who chimes in to lick her friend's gaping butthole as soon as she gets a chance before going back up to bob her head a bit on your cock. "Oh my God," you groan as Minji catches you off-guard and sucks your cock like a maniac to enjoy the flavor or Haerin's butthole.

Minji guides your cock back into her best friend's ass, enjoying what she's been watching. You push very deep into Haerin's butt, but assuring the young girl you won't break her in half, just ensure she'll learn how to get fucked good in her ass. "OH MY GOD," she moans as her legs tremble and your thrysts get more and more powerful. Minji just watches, chiming in to suck your cock and lick Haerin's butthole in every opportunity given to her and then spreading Haerin's butt.

Haerin's struggle as the large girth of your cock does quite a wreckage in her asshole. She's very much a novice when it comes to anal sex, so now she just closes her eyes and hides the pain of every deep thrust you give inside her tiny little ass. "Nice girl," you praise her, as you notice she can barely stay on her knees but still keeps thrusting hard like a madman into her little used tight teen anus while sharing kisses with your little sister.

"OH GOD, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!" Haerin screams as she gets her ass pounded hard and deep. You sense you pushed her to the limit, handling Minji the duty of licking the wounds of her friend's gaped anus, which she does to perfection and gets your big cock as a reward. "I want you in my ass for one last time," Minji says. "But not before you two suck my cock," you reply as you lay down.

Minji and Haerin share the eagerness to lick your shaft, your sister taking the initiative. "I can't believe we're having such hot sex with my brother," Minji tells Haerin as both take turns bobbing their heads on your pole, Minji especially choking hard on it as she gets quite wet to sit on it while you and Haerin tongue-kiss.

"Jump on that cock," you order to Minji, who spreads her ass to take it back inside and starts riding it like a maniac. "Ahhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, oh yeah," she moans. "Oh my God," you groan as her asshole squeezes your shaft to the fullest. "I can't believe it's so fucking good, little sister," you say to her as she twerks on your cock perfectly, you spreading her big ass as Minji kisses Haerin while bouncing on your cock.

"Oh fuck, yeah," Minji moans as you push her body closer to yours, wrapping your hands around her waist and thrusting upwards in her asshole. "Harder, brother, fuck my ass harder," she demands, and do like that, your balls slapping hard on her cheeks as you pound your sister's ass really fast. "Fuck, keep going, brother, oh yeah, yeah, yeah," Minji moans as you fuck her butt and spank it hard until you get exhausted and show off the massive gape you left on it. 

"I love the way you make me gape," Minji says as she looks at her prolapsed butthole. Haerin is in awe and wants it for herself, sitting her tight ass on your cock the second after Minji pulls out of it. Despite her inexperience, the little teenager challenges herself, trying to bounce as fast as she can on that fat pole. "Your cock is so big, daddy," she says, without dropping the pace of the ride, slowly learning the ways around it.

Haerin almost levitates as she goes up and down your cock. "Oh fuck," she moans. Minji watches and licks her young friend's hard nipples. "Oh God, shit, your brother is so big," Haerin moans as she closes her eyes, pushing hard as your shaft keeps impaling her. Minji helps her friend as she fingers Haerin's pussy and sucks her tits, giving her the confidence boost she needs to stay on top of your cock.

Haerin eventually succumbs as she gets down closer to your body but keeps your cock stuffed in her asshole. You take advantage of her weakness, grabbing her legs and putting her under a full nelson she'll never forget. "Oh my God," Haerin says as she is now completely defenseless to your hard thrusts. Minji looks at her and kisses her best friend, who gets completely obliterated. As soon as you pull out, Minji is right there to lick her best friend's massive gape, taking a long time tonguing Haerin's anus.

"You're so fucking nasty, little sister, I think you deserve a reward," you say. "I know I do, big brother," Minji answers, jerking your cock off. "Join me, let's make him cum togehter," she tells Haerin, as it doesn't take long until your erection turns into a fountain of cum that lands all over your crotch and belly, with Minji and Haerin cleaning it off with their tongues and swapping it with each other. "I can't believe this happened," is all you can say after an amazing session with your sister and her best friend.

"There is more tonight," Minji says. "Damn, I barely could handle one session, and you already want more, little sister?" you ask her.

"Well, not my fault you have such a great cock, big brother," Minji answers. "I hope it's hard and throbbing when I meet you in a few hours," she says.

Indeed, as you return to your home on that night, you see three naked asses up on that couch winking for you. The middle on you can tell it's Minji, but who are the other two?

"Good evening, big brother, I want you to meet Hanni," Minji points to the ass to the left of her, "and Danielle," she points to the right. "What do you want to do with them tonight? Tell me and I will lead you," Minji says.

All you could think of is how lucky you were for having such a naughty sister like her.

[klemen-tine]

Please Please Please (Mom! Reader x Batfam)

Don't prove I'm right~ I love that song so much. Anyways! Not extreme Yandere, but part 2 will have some. This is just the setting up for it. Also, while writing I won't lie, I forgot about Damien, so he will have a lot of showtime in the next part. FYI

TW: Cheating, slapping (Reader slaps Bruce), Reader also throws something at Bruce.

In now way do I condone partner violence. no matter how mad you get, you should never hit or throw something at your partner.

In case you have never heard this song before, first of all who are you? Secondly here is the link

@Rosecentury 

@Problematicreblogger

@Kurai-hono-blog 

@Lunaluz432

@testishere

Y/N had put her life on pause for Bruce and his hero complex. She is a top-model. A supermodel that is still being asked to do photoshoots, make guest appearances, and dominate the runway despite her time away from it. The strict workout regime was still her daily exercise, and she still was conscious of what she ate. Age had not affected her the way it has to some of her friends because Y/N lived to be a model. 

Yet, she had put that on the backburner for her husband and kids. She forced her attention onto the scarred and vibrant children that her traumatized husband brought in like strays. Y/N raised them, alongside Alfred. It’s because of them that their sons and daughters did not turn out as crooked as Bruce Wayne. A man that was full of jagged and sharp pieces, piercing the skin of whoever got close. 

E/C eyes rolled nearly out her socket, taking a sip of the morning coffee and waiting for her youngest to come down. She ignored the nervous glances being sent her way from her sons, and instead pulled out her phone to look for a familiar contact. 

“None of you have anything I need to be here for, do you?” Tim and Jason quickly shook their heads, and Dick gave a nervous smile, “Not really… although it would be nice if you stayed here though.” Y/N raised a delicate eyebrow, and a sharp smile formed on her lips as she pressed ‘call,’ “Ah, don’t worry Dickie, I’ll come back. I’m just going on a trip.” 

The person answered, and before they could start spewing curses, Y/N greeted them, “Hey, Jackie! It’s Y/N.” 

“Y-Y/N! What’s going on?” 

“Remember those gigs you were telling me about?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Book them.” The boys stood up while her manager on the other line sputtered in excitement, “Really?! Oh my gosh Y/N this is so exciting! Which ones do you want? I know you want to stay close to Gotham -heaven knows why- but I can find some in-” 

“All of them.” 

“...what?” 

“Book all of them.” Jackie hummed, “Some are out of the country though.” 

“Even better! Pack your bags Jackie, we are gonna be gone for a while. Bring Stella too, I’ll pay for both of your tickets and lodgings.” Jackie was stuttering, “The-the first gig in a week is Venice, Italy! Is that enough time for you to-” 

“Let's leave tonight.” 

“Tonight?!” Everyone screeched, and Y/N gave her sons an annoyed look, “Yes, tonight. Let's enjoy Venice like when we were young, and show Stella around. I’m sure the two of you could use a vacation anyways.” 

“....Y/N, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy. See you tonight.” Y/N hung up, and threw her phone on the opposite end of the couch, continuing to sip her cup of coffee as the news reporter continued to talk about Batman and his risky rendezvous with Catwoman. The perfect love story. 

The pursuer and the pursued. The cop and robber. Batman, the man of justice, and Catwoman, a thief. 

Her jaw clenched, and her fingers tightened around the handle of the mug. The air around her was full of jitters and Dick was basically vibrating with worry, Jason focused intensely on his phone, and Tim was drinking even more coffee. 

“Um, mom, are you… is this…” Dick was fumbling, trying to find the words, and Y/N smiled, “C’mon on Dickie. It’s been a while since I went on the runway, or even in front of a camera outside of Gotham. You’re all old enough now, it’s fine.” 

“What about Dami?” Y/N smiled sadly, “Dami will be fine. Hell, today I’ll have him help me choose the jewelry and clothes that I will be packing.”

“You’re gonna have him help you pack your bags to leave?” Tim wondered, and Y/N flinched out how terrible that sounded, “Not like that. It’s a trip. A fashion trip and a girls trip.” Jason scrunched his nose, “Ma, fucking Bruce just go caught cheating and was broadcasted across the NEWs, and you’re now leaving for a trip. Do you think Dami will understand that?” 

Y/N took a sip of her coffee, “He will. It’ll be a conversation but it will be reiterated as many times as he needs to hear it. Plus, it’s not like you guys can’t call me.” Damien came stomping down the stairs, dressed in the Gotham Academy Uniform, and Y/N threw on a smile that would have had actresses crying, “Dami! I need your help today, so nevermind school.” Green eyes blinked in shock, his gaze taking in every one in the room before landing back on her, “Are you needing my assistance in packing?” 

“Only for a trip. So there’s no need to pack everything.” Damien nodded, “Fine. I will assist you. You have an abysmal amount of jewelry and some of them are simply deplorable.” Y/N chuckled, “Thanks Dami.” He went back up the stairs to change, and Y/N turned back to the NEWs where they were finally talking about something different. 

Sighing, Y/N stood up from the couch, “I’ll be in my room packing if anyone needs anything.” Silence followed her, and once she was out of earshot, Dick proceeded to panic even more. 

+++

She’s in Greece now. After spending a week in Italy, a week in Iceland, two weeks in France, and now four days in Zakynthos, Greece, she knows her vacation time is limited. Y/N has been using Bruce’s card to pay for the three luxury hotel rooms, one for herself (obviously), Jackie, and Stella. She’s used them for the plane flight in first class, the first class train ride, the yacht to get to this island, the fancy dinners, shopping sprees, any time that she needed to put money down she was using his card. 

Bruce is a billionaire, he doesn’t care and Y/N is also a billionaire, but this is her way of being petty. Why would she waste her money? 

A delicate eyebrow raised at the man in the mirror, followed by two of their sons and a butler dressed in a Hawaiian shirt. 

“Lady Y/N, it is great to see you.” 

“Hey Alfie, vacation looks good on you. I highly recommend the mimosa’s here, none of them have been bad.” 

“Hi Ma, you look relaxed.” Jason walked further into the room, taking a seat on the plush chair and grabbing a grape, and tossing some to Dick. Their oldest son smiled and waved, “C’mon mom, I know you’ve been here before, but you could at least try and look like a tourist.” Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling lovingly and flicking her hair over her shoulder. She leaned close to the mirror again, rubbing sunscreen on her face and massaging it into her skin. 

Her husband made his way a little closer as the family spread out in the room. Jason sitting in the chair, Dick on the bed, and Alfred standing near the door. Y/N sneered at Bruce through the mirror, “Bringing the kids to see you get humiliated is something I would have never thought you’d do.” 

Bruce sighed heavily, and Y/N wiped her hands on the towel and sipped her mimosa. Piercing blue eyes, filled with exhaustion and guilt, met hers, “Y/N, how much longer are you scheduled for?” 

“Hmm, for a while Bruce,” She pretended to think, “After all, I’ve been wanting to get back into modeling now that most of the kids are becoming independent, and what better way to announce to the world that I am back than a hard launch.” Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, “Will it be my card you’ll continue to use.”

“Of course! It's the least my darling, idiotic, and hormone-rivaling-a-teenager husband can do after that stunt, right?” The room got colder and Dick sat up straighter at the tension between his two parental figures. Y/N has always had a sharp tongue and quick wit, one she used on Bruce a lot. Rarely ever was it aimed to be hurtful though. 

“Y/N, temper.” Dick’s jaw opened and Jason made an exaggerated gasp. Alfred looked pained as Y/N whirled around and seethed at Bruce, “Temper? Temper?! Who the hell are you to tell me to watch my temper when you can’t even control your own hormones? 

“If you wanted to see my temper you just had to fucking say so!” Dick turned to Alfred, trying to see if there was anything he could do, but at the resigned look the man gave him, the oldest son choked on a noise, “This is a new side of mom.” 

“Lady Y/N has always had a temper, one that rivals Master Bruce.” She looked like a puffed up cat while Bruce was cowing like a dog with puppy eyes, “When they were younger, she would put even the adults in their place.” Her hand grabbed the now cold coffee pot, and Dick feels like it was only because Bruce was used to stuff being thrown at him and catching things that he was able to grab the projectile before it landed on the walls and carpet. Alfred raised a brow, “Sometimes that temper bleeds into other things.” 

Their mother was seething in front of Bruce, looking like a bull and was ready to charge into a china shop. While Bruce may not be as delicate as one, Dick has money on Y/N still doing a lot of damage if she were to charge. Metaphorically and physically.  

“Y/N, please.” Bruce tried again, only to see her get more angry. His hands were up in a placating manner, and Y/N held her own hands tense and ready to swing if he came closer. 

“Y/N, it genuinely was an accident.” 

“ ‘it genuinely was an accident’–” She mocked, purposefully making her voice annoying “-fuck off! Like your tongue going down her throat is an accident. Didn’t know that could happen!” Y/N looked around again for something to chuck, while Bruce closed the space between them inch by inch. 

“What’s next? Are you going to trip and accidentally find yourself between her legs with your pants down?” Jason and Dick blanched at the imagery. 

“Over a decade of marriage, of me playing the perfect ex-model-arm-candy wife for Bruce Wayne just for you dressed in a fucking furry suit to go and makeout with another fucking furry! 

“Like! I know we weren’t in this for love, but there. Are. Still. Standards!” She enunciated each word with a swat of her hand on Bruce’s shoulder. 

“I still have standards! You don’t see me making out with anyone else do you? Even as I’m playing Supermodel Y/N, dressed to the millions and making everyone drool, I don’t go making out with them!” 

“How could Batman, of all persona’s you wish to play, do that? I expected that from Brucie, not Batman, defender of Justice or whatever bullshit you spew when dressed in that gothic suit.” 

Bruce sighed, “Y/N, it was bad timing.” He gave her a hard look, “Justice and this are different. You cannot compare the two.” The man knew he messed up once the words left his mouth and he closed his eyes in regret. 

Jason saw the slap coming and he braced himself for the impact it would have. Bruce didn’t catch it, despite him being fully capable of it, and when it landed everyone winced at the sound and the red mark. 

“Well this is my justice. Now go away. I have a photoshoot to get ready for and you are just pissing me off!” The hand print was immaculate. One that had Jason biting back a laugh and Dick looking horrified. Y/N whirled back around to face her vanity, where all her jewelry laid on the surface, and her attention was focused back on picking which one would go with her outfit to the shoot. 

Jason whistled when Bruce turned around to face his kids and Butler, “Good hit Ma. You should hit the other side to even it out.” Y/N gave a laugh, picking up the pearl earrings encased with gold, and she continued to pick out a necklace. 

“Jay, help me out here please.” Rough hands replaced her’s, and green eyes met furious E/C though the mirror. Using the safety of her son’s larger frame to hide herself, Y/N slowly let herself crumble a little bit. Jason could see the anger, hurt, and sadness that was slowly turning the sclera red from holding back tears. There was a subtle shake in her shoulders and the trembling of lips, but Y/N held it together. She was holding onto it by the seams, desperately waiting for the man causing her pain to be gone. 

When the gold clasped, Y/N reached over for her large hat and sunglasses, “Enjoy the beach. Alfie, you especially should enjoy this vacation. Don’t let this  stupid, untrustworthy, and manwhore of a furry disrupt it.” With that, she slammed her hotel room door on her way out, and they all listened as her heels clicked down the hall until they were out of ear shot. 

Alfred glanced at his ward, “Well, I am not one for violence when there are disputes between partners, but I will say that one slap was well deserved, Master Bruce.” The man sighed, slightly rubbing his cheek, “I think the last time she hit me that hard was when we were in grade school.” 

“She put all her body weight into that.” Dick glanced at the hand print, “Woah, I think you can see the ring too.” Jason whistled, and Bruce closed his eyes and took deep breaths to keep himself steady, reflecting on the conversation and where exactly he messed up. 

“I think this is the third time she’s slapped me…” 

“Fourth, sir.” Bruce nodded, remembering the third time. Jason raised an eyebrow, “I only know of the time you were both 6, and you said something mean so she hit you.” Dick pouted, “I know of the one in Middle School, when you were once accused of touching her butt.” 

Alfred raised a brow, “The third time was when she dropped you off at the manor after a long night of drinking and you—” 

“Thanks Alfred, there’s no need to tell that story.” Bruce’s cheeks were now flushed from embarrassment rather than the slap on his cheek.  Y/N truly has seen him through it all. When he got into fights in school, it was always her eyes he sought out after each one. Bored E/C eyes, framed by thick lashes and elegant eyeliner, always watching with a blank expression. Bruce Wayne rarely phased Y/N L/N. When he was younger, he noticed how his last name made people stumble or stutter when talking to him, allowing him to say whatever he wanted. It did nothing to Y/N, who met his gaze and taunts head on with her own witty comebacks that stuck at parts of Bruce that had him fumbling. 

He can remember his dad, Thomas Wayne, laughing when he caught Y/N’s sly comeback directed at Bruce after he said something about her dress. Y/N’s own parents looked mortified. 

Y/N L/N-Wayne was a flame that never wavered. It’s what made her successful at modeling, and a supermodel in her first two years. That flame is what had photographers, stylists, fashion designers, and make up artists still call her up, begging for her to come back. A force of nature that had only paused for Bruce and their children. 

“C’mon, Y/N. Even you can see the benefits of this.” The woman raised her brow at a younger Bruce, who was smiling at her. 

“Your life does not pause, and now with the Wayne name as yours, your options are endless.” 

“And what about you?” 

“This means I no longer have to play as a playboy in public and everyone will stop asking me to marry them or their daughters.” Y/N laughed, “Nah, you’ll still get them. They’ll just now be whispered behind closed doors.” 

Bruce smiled, “The standards of a regular marriage will still apply. Obviously not the sex part or anything, but everything else will. Think of it like living with roommates.

“This will work for the both of us, Y/N.” The woman smiled into the rim of her cup, red lips leaving an imprint on the glass. 

It took him five tries for her to finally agree. There might have been some manipulation on his side of things, but he got that ring on her finger, and 2 months later she was walking down the aisle in a wedding dress that was deemed ‘The Dress of the Century.’ She was beautiful, even more so than usual. 

Dick glanced at him, “So, what’s the plan?” Bruce sighed, “Just make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” 

++++

It took 4 months for Y/N to come back to the manor. Within those 4 months, one of them were always with her. Switching off when they hit a new city, and each one had tried their charm on having her come back to the mansion. Bruce was going crazy, therefore Batman was more brutal than usual, and that the meant the other birds had to pick up the slack when it came to emotions. Bruce had all but shut down every other part that wasn’t Batman. 

However, nothing returned to normal once she was back. Her and Bruce were rarely in each other’s presence, and she refused to see or do anything about Batman. Y/N was trying to remove herself from Bruce Wayne completely, and no one liked that. 

Bruce and Y/N may claim that they were never in love, and that they only married for convenience. However, Dick will always remember watching Bruce and Y/N dancing in the main hall of the manor. He was hanging onto the chandelier, not yet noticed by either, as a song began playing and they both began dancing. 

They had been dressed in casual clothes, which consisted of dark blue jeans and nice tops and shoes. Dick’s young eyes watched as the two of them swayed and twirled around each other, Y/N laughing at the whispered words Bruce would share, and the stern man relaxing for the duration of the time. 

They were far from the perfect couple. Their parenting styles were different, and it took a while for Y/N to warm up to Dick. She was never cold or malicious, but just like Dick and everyone else, she was lost. However, it was her awkward arms he sought after when he had a bad day, or when Bruce got on his nerves. It was her eyes he always seeked approval for. 

When she caught him hastily packing, dying to get away from the man that had his rules tighter than the Robin suit, she helped. Y/N had folded his clothes, snuck a bottle of Smirnoff and Titos into his luggage, because moving required at least two bottles of alcohol, and she hugged him goodbye. 

Every member of this family has a memory tied to Y/N. A gentle one. 

Damian had kind memories, where Y/N smiled at him for no reason. She did not expect perfection, and one time she stated how she wished Damian would fail sometimes. It was something that had him seething and jumping to defend himself, but Y/N laughed, “Failure is our best teacher, Damian. What better time to fail then when you knwo you have people willing to help you up?” 

Jason remembers peeking on Y/N when he was younger. Watching through the cracks of the door as she and Bruce swayed to music, laughed at old memories, or simply sat around each other and read a book. Sometimes, he’d catch her trying on her jewelry, or reorganizing her perfume. Every now and then she would go through her closet and donate clothes she no longer wanted or needed. 

He watched how Dick, would seek her out whenever he and Bruce argued. When Jason finally allowed himself to be wrapped in those arms– arms that always had Bruce looking ready to sacrifice everything, that had Dick relaxing, and Alfred smiling endearingly– and he can see why they did so. It's different from Bruce, because Bruce makes you feel protected. In Bruce’s arms, Jason knows that there is almost nothing that can harm him. 

In Y/N’s embrace, Jason feels at peace. There’s no need to worry about protection because he’s in a place that does not need it. When he dances with Y/N, to their song nonetheless, there is nothing that can ever disrupt the moment. Y/N stares at him with adoration, just how she does with Dick, only her attention is on him. Him! A street rat from Dowry, Crime Alley, and he has the attention of the woman that is Bruce’s equal in the highest social circles. 

Those soft E/C eyes, that always stared at them with warmth and love, stared back at him through the mirror. He and Tim, because Timmy loved her just as much as he did, watched as Y/N emptied another glass of the Rose, and how the exhaustion from all the shows, photoshoots, flashing cameras, and the ordeal with Bruce seeped into her bones. 

“Hey Ma, let's get some sleep.” Jason walked closer, carefully minding the scattered jewelry that looked more expensive than any of his weapons, and Tim, who was forever on the same wavelength as Jason, scampered over to the large bed and lit the diffuser. 

Y/N hummed, running her hands through her hair, before tilting her head back and looking at Jason once more, “You both shouldn’t be here. I can handle this myself.” Y/N never liked it when any of the kids saw her less than presentable. She was always dressed in nice clothes, with nice jewelry, and makeup even at the manor. It's one of the worries of being a model, she had told Dick, always scared that the nosey paparazzi will catch you at your worst and share it with an even crueler audience. 

Jason had once confided in her about Willis Todd, and how he hated it when she drank in front of him. Whether it was scotch or champagne. 

After that, Y/N always drank in her room. 

The thing is, that Jason knows Y/N wouldn’t ever hurt him. She’s not like Willis who purposefully seeked out to hurt someone smaller. Jason knows that no matter how mad she got at him, she wouldn’t do anything (unlike what she would do to Bruce).

This is why, despite all the trauma he has with alcohol and people being intoxicated, he can confidently move the bottle away and the glass. Noting how both were empty. 

Tim strolled over, and gave a small smile through the mirror, “I’ll brush your hair, Mom. Then you should sleep.” Y/N tried to wave him off, “Don’t bother. I can do it myself. You both should go.” She sluggishly reached out for the vintage decorated paddle brush, only for Tim to snatch it before she could. 

“I want to do it. Besides, if it bothers you, think of it as me returning the favor.” The confused look Y/N gave him had him smiling patiently as he stood behind her and gently began to brush the locks of hair. Y/N sighed, “This is embarrassing. My kids should not be taking care of me.” 

“I’m an adult.” 

“CEO of Wayne Enterprises as well. Taking care of you when you are in a low spot is the least I could do.” Lord knows how many times Y/N has cared for them at their lowest. When Tim believed that Bruce was stuck in the Time Stream, Y/N didn’t seem all that confident in it, but she still believed him and helped him narrow down locations. She kept the press busy while he went out and searched. 

He heard later that she refused to talk to Dick when she found out they wanted to put Tim in Arkham. She shook her head in disappointment when Dick told her that Damien is now Robin. Tim always thought Dick was a bit stupid on that part. Parading Damien, a child from another woman, around and in front of Y/N nonetheless. Yes, thankfully Y/N warmed up to Damien and vice versa (although for Damien it took longer),  but that could have gone bad in so many ways. 

“Still my kids.” Jason pulled a chair next to her, so they could all be in the view of the mirror, and in a rare show of affection that is only reserved for Alfred and Y/N, he rested his head on her shoulder as Tim continued to work the brush carefully through her hair. Y/N’s shoulders sagged and her back hunched a bit, and for the first time in a while, Y/N let herself look how she felt. Exhausted. Utterly and completely exhausted. 

Tim can see the dark circles under her red rimmed eyes, and the way her skin looked duller than usual. Granted, she finished a long gig, working tirelessly for months posing, getting dressed up, and traveling around the world to forget Bruce’s infidelity. 

‘Standards,’ she said in response to his excuse. Tim isn’t stupid to believe that neither Bruce or Y/N have feelings for the other. He’s seen it. It's in the way that Bruce concedes in arguments, or the flowers and necklaces he buys her when he’s apologetic, how the harsh glare that was directed at Tim when he first became Robin eased the moment Y/N pulled the boy close to her. Acting as a shield and sword for him. 

Her message was clear, and Bruce decided to read it. 

Y/N on the other hand lessened Bruce’s stress when he was CEO, the breaks from brooding to dance in the main hall to their song, or even acting as the sound of reason for him. She keeps him tethered to Earth, never letting his thoughts stray too far from reality. 

They may not be in love, but they still liked each other. Enough so that Bruce went along with her whims, just how she does with him. Enough so for Bruce to chase her across the world. Looking at it, perhaps Bruce was the one in love. 

“Jason, can you pass me the scrunchie?” He grabbed the silk scrunchie from large hands, and began braiding his mom’s hair. 

“You guys are being so silly,” Y/N huffed, and Jason beamed at her, giving her a boyish smile that he never shows anymore, “Anything for ya, Ma.” She subtly shook her head, a smile on her face as she looked back into the mirror. 

“Is this still about Bruce?” Tim kept his eyes on the braid, but from the tension in her shoulders, he hit the jackpot. Y/N brought her hand up to rub her forehead, “That idiot…” 

“Join the club, Ma.” Y/N took a deep breath, “He’s so stupid. It’s one thing to kiss another woman, which is fine. Do what you want to do, it’s not like we married for love.” A glare formed on her face, “But to get caught is another thing. Fucking idiot, he can only think with his hormones like a teenager. Even Dami isn’t like that, thank god.” 

Tim tied off the braid with the silk scrunchie, watching Y/N get heated again, “I hate him.” Except it was said with no bite, and the way Y/N’s lip wobbled had Tim hearing other words alongside the ones she mumbled. Jason leaned into her, offering her comfort while Tim watched from the reflection in the mirror.

Y/N to Tim was what Janet Drake had failed to be. He learned a lot from both of them, and it helped that both women were huge players in their social circles and socialites. They both taught him how to play with people’s perception of someone. Only Janet taught him to keep a straight face and not show emotion, while Y/N taught him that with a correct smile and a well placed chuckle, someone can be eating out of the palm of their hands. Both women approached the world with different weapons and tools, and both women used and taught them to him. 

Only Y/N also knew when it was time to put down the mask and become a reliable person for Tim, while Janet continued to only be Janet to Tim. 

He loves them both. Except, with Y/N he felt that if she were to ever leave him the way Janet did then he would have no choice but to follow and bring her back. Wherever Y/N goes, Tim will follow. 

“Boys.” Jason and Tim snapped their attention to the door, and Bruce was standing there, menacingly longingly. His face in an unusual expression, but one he’s worn a lot throughout the time Y/N was gone. An expression all the boys have gotten to know. Tim escaped, saying goodnight to both parental figures, before leaving for the cave. 

Jason pecked Y/N’s cheek, whispering good night and glaring at Bruce, “Don’t fuck this up old man.” To which Bruce sighed and nodded, closing the door after Jason. For the first time in months, it was just Y/N and Bruce. Alone with each other’s company and Bruce knows that if she could, she’d probably be strangling him right now. 

With great hesitancy, one that he could never show as Batman, he sat on the bed about a foot away from her. 

“I paused my life for you.” Y/N glared into blue eyes, “I paused almost everything, for you. For your mission. For the children you brought into our home, without asking me about it beforehand, may I remind you. I love them, and don’t you dare twist that, but I would have liked to have been consulted about it first.” Y/N didn’t want to be a mother. It was never in the cards for her, and yet here she is having more children than she had ever dreamt of. 

She loves them. She’d die and kill for them, but they were never in the cards of life she wanted dealt to her. 

“I paused so much, just for you to go and.. And… and do that.” Bruce winced at that, and Y/N felt happy that he did. Gritting her teeth, Y/N turned her attention to look at the fire. The heat of it reminds her of her own rage and the coldness she feels when in the presence of Bruce. 

Sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and bit back a groan, “And once I start getting my life started again, having fun, going on the runway and magazines, here you come storming back.” 

“You looked like you needed the break.” Y/N shook her head, “Did you know, that that is one of your worst habits. Always making yourself out to be the hero.” She took a glass of wine and watched the liquid swirl in the glass, “Of course, you let me have that moment. Of course you were thinking of me, and my happiness. How kind of you.” 

Bruce sighed, watching her sip the alcohol that left a red stain on her lips. He can remember the first time he saw her in red lipstick. Shockingly, it was in-person and the red made her skin look warm and teeth appear even whiter despite the knowledge that red lipstick can make your teeth look yellower. It was a beautiful shade, matched by her dress. 

She was beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even as time progressed and she and he got older, Y/N remained beautiful. Defying the laws time and age as she remained ethereal. Unfairly so. 

Bruce had wanted to preserve that beauty, in the same way that many tried to preserve the flowers from the garden and the expensive smelling perfume. He wanted nothing more than for Y/N to continue smiling and for the fire to remain bright. 

To do that, he had to stay away. He could not allow himself to love her, because if he fell then he would drag her through the mud with him. Yet, here he is on the other side of that cold look, one that had him hesitating. That kiss with Selena was terrible timing all around. She had caught him in a moment of weakness, and someone just so happened to be there at the worst moment to catch it all. 

Staying away proved to be ineffective when here she is drinking wine with red-rimmed eyes and anger in her brows. 

“This marriage was never one for love, but there are standards. Ones we talked about beforehand.” 

“I know.” Y/N pursed her lips, tilting her head to the left and watching Bruce with distrustful eyes. The man sighed heavily and he sat in front of her, taking his own glass and pouring himself some wine. He didn’t like this type of wine, and from the very small scrunch in her nose Y/N didn’t like it either. 

The more he stared at her, taking in her still youthful features and eyes that burned bright, the more he could feel his emotions rising to the surface. Feelings and emotions he long tried to bury, but never quite succeeded. He had hoped that kissing Selena would just prove that he is only missing her as a sexual partner, and it only confirmed for him that he was in love with her. 

He is in love with Y/N L/N-Wayne. His kids are in love with Y/N. Alfred loves Y/N. The whole Wayne family, extended and all, are in love with this woman. This woman has nothing to do with their vigilantism, but instead reminds them that they are also normal and exist outside of masks and costume. That they are human and not shadows of the night. 

That they are the Wayne family. 

God, he loves her so much. So much. She is his weakness, his strength, his everything. The fancy cufflinks that are only brought out for special occasions, the expensive wine cracked open for celebrations, the pearl earring worn for the best performances. Y/N is the treasure of the Wayne family. 

Carefully, he wrapped an arm around her waist, slowly inching his way around her, testing the waters to see if she would shake him off or hiss at him. When there was no sign of that, he tightened his hold only slightly and pressed his forehead into her shoulder, gently laying a kiss on the joint, “Like I said, it was an accident. She caught me at a bad time, and I wasn’t expecting her to do that.” 

Y/N released a heavy sigh, and Bruce hugged her tighter, “I swear. It wasn’t consensual.” She rubbed her forehead, and Bruce watched how the lines slowly faded and melted back into her skin. Y/N never wore exhaustion well, which was why on mornings she had early photoshoots, she would sleep in her room instead of Bruce’s. She always woke up when he would stalk in and climb under the sheets with her. 

“Please, Y/N. Give me a chance. Let me take care of you the way you should be.” Y/N chuckled at that, “Careful Bruce, keep saying stuff like that and I might start to believe you have feelings for me.” Ice blue met E/C, and Y/N hesitated for a moment. Something chilling going down her spine, “I guess, I should start saying it more often then.” 

“Bruce…” He pecked her cheek, careful of the fire he was playing with, and carefully watching her reactions. His arms encircled her tighter, and he kissed her shoulder. Bruce watched, and observed how the tension slowly left her and reluctant acceptance came across her face. His arms tightened, and Bruce fought back a smile. 

“Ever the charmer,” She mumbled. Bruce huffed a laugh, and Y/N shook her head, “If I catch you with your mouth on anyone else’s but mine, I’m going to sick the kids on you.” An image of four rabid dogs, followed by a few more, filled his mind. Bruce grimaced as he remembered the tongue lashing he got from everyone, “Noted.” 

Y/N chuckled, and Bruce smiled, throwing his weight back on the pillows, bringing Y/N with him. His arms still tight around her waist, and a promise on his lips. 

‘I’ll never let you go again.’ 

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Not super Yandere, but it is getting there.