#issues are issues and need dealing with but not like this

[livinghalfway]

Seeing Double

Damian is always annoyed when he has to deal with kidnappers wanting to make some quick cash hoping to ransom him back to his father. As much as he wants to just fight them, and be done with it he knows that he can’t. Father had told him repeatedly that in order to maintain cover he couldn’t deal with these types of issues when he was supposed to be nothing but a regular civilian. 

Someone from the family should be showing up soon though as Damian had pressed the distress beacon as soon as he noticed that he was being followed by some very obvious criminals. That are only going to be referred to as idiot A and idiot B in his mind. 

Which is why he mostly complies as they grab him from the van and proceed to drag him inside an old rundown building where two other criminals, idiot C and idiot D, are already waiting with grinning faces. What immediately sets Damian on edge though is when they notice their entrance those smiles instantly disappear. 

Idiot A and B don’t seem to notice their fellow criminals' sudden shift in attitude though. 

“It seems we were the ones to find the Wayne brat after all boys! Bets a bet fellas, and I’m expecting payment in the form of dinner.” Idiot A dragging him farther inside announces to the room before noticing the other two don’t seem to be sharing his excitement. “Come on guys just because Jakob and I won the bet doesn’t mean we’re not all getting paid today! No need to look so down.” 

“But we won the bet? Damian Wayne is already tied up in the other room.” Idiot C says as he confusingly looks between Damian and a door off to the side. Whoever was confused for him is mostly likely on the other side then. Great, another thing he will have to worry about while he’s here. 

Idiot B grabs his shoulder and even shakes Damian as he speaks, “No, this is Damian Wayne!” 

All four of them are now staring at him before Idiot D speaks up, “I still think the other kid is the real Damian.” 

“It doesn’t matter which one is the real Wayne kid. Our plan still works; we can still get our money! Just- just tie this one up, and put him with the other one. We still have a schedule we need to stick to.” 

Now, Damian knew that when he saw the other boy being held here that they would probably have similar features, but he wasn’t expecting to actually see his own face looking back at him. More correctly though his long thought gone twin brother’s face. 

He’d recognize that face anywhere; he gave Danyal that scare after all. 

[bucky-barnes-diaries]

The First Time

Pairing || Beefy!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary || Bucky takes your virginity.

World Count || 3414

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, pet names, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, protected vaginal sex, oral (female receiving), mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Beefy!Bucky Masterlist

You and Bucky had been in a relationship together for three incredible months now. Before that, you and he had been friends for two years. You have had a crush on him for what felt like forever, your heart skipping a beat every time he smiled at you, but you never had the courage to do anything about it due to your previous relationships.

It took a little matchmaking from your mutual friend, Natasha, who knew that you were both pining for each other, for Bucky to finally ask you out since he had been holding those same feelings for you all along.

One of the reasons that it had taken him such a long time to ask you out was his deep-seated insecurities. The weight of his past still haunted him, and he was terrified that you would end up hurt because of him. But you wanted nothing more than to be with him.

You cherished every moment of your friendship with Bucky, but these past three months of dating had been absolutely magical, filled with tender moments.

One thing that had been absent in your relationship was sex. Bucky was incredibly attentive to your comfort, never once pressuring you with the topic of sex, always letting you set the pace.

During those heated make-out sessions on his worn leather sofa, when his touches became more passionate and his breathing more ragged, he always stopped to check on you, his blue eyes filled with concern and care. When you told him you weren’t in the mood, he would simply kiss your temple softly, pull you close against his warm chest, and hold you there, making you feel safe and cherished.

But you hadn’t been entirely honest with him about something important. The real reason you avoided taking things further during passionate moments was your virginity. Past experiences had made it difficult to open up about it because previous boyfriends had mocked you for it, leaving you with deep trust issues.

But Bucky was different, you knew it. His gentle soul, caring nature, and dedication to your happiness and comfort made you feel safe in a way you had never felt before. Tonight, you were ready to open up to him. You were ready to share this intimate truth with him and hopefully take this next step in your relationship together.

You found yourself on his sofa after an exhausting day at work. Your lips moved together in perfect sync as his strong hands, flesh and metal, held your waist with just the right amount of pressure. Your fingers were tangled in his soft hair, keeping him close as you lost yourself in the moment. The movie playing in the background became nothing more than white noise.

His lips felt incredible against yours, soft yet demanding, as his hands explored your curves with touches that sent tingles through your body. The desire to go further, to feel more of him, was overwhelming. It was stronger than you have ever felt before.

But that familiar voice of insecurity whispered in the back of your mind, bringing a wave of anxiety with it. What if Bucky was just like the others? What if your virginity was a deal-breaker to him? Deep in your heart, you knew he would never react that way.

When his warm hand slipped under your shirt, slowly inching higher towards your breasts, you forced yourself to pause.

“Bucky, wait.” He immediately pulled back, his blue eyes meeting yours with concern, panic flashing across his features. “I’m sorry, doll, if I went too far.” His thumb gently caressed your cheek, his face portraying genuine worry and apology.

“N-no, it’s not that. I-I liked that, I just… I need to tell you something.” He nodded encouragingly, his patient silence giving you the strength to continue.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m a virgin,” you whispered, ducking your head in embarrassment. His fingers gently caught your chin, tilting your face back up to meet his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was scared and ashamed that you… that you may not want me if you knew,” your voice trembled as you poured out to him, and despite your best efforts to stay composed, a tear escaped, rolling down your cheek. Your past rejections weighed heavily on your heart in this vulnerable moment.

“Don’t want you?” He shook his head, his expression softening as he caught your tear with his thumb. “I want nothing more than you, doll. I hope I’ve never made you uncomfortable. I never want you to feel pressured to have sex with me. Never.” His voice was thick with emotion, so full of sincerity that it made your heart flutter.

You surprised him with a sweet kiss. The moment couldn’t have been more perfect—his acceptance lifted a weight you had been carrying for so long.

“You’ve never pressured me, Bucky. You have always been respectful and understanding.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before leaning his body against yours, his warmth and comfort enveloping you. “How about we just cuddle tonight?” His hands tenderly cupped your cheeks as he placed a feather-light kiss on the tip of your nose.

You shook your head, bringing his lips back to yours in a passionate, searing kiss. The desire coursing through your veins was overwhelming—you wanted him more than ever, you needed to feel him completely.

“I want you, Bucky. I’ve never wanted anything more. Please…”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to if you’re not ready. I can wait for as long as you need.”

“I’ve never been so sure of something in my life as this. I trust you completely.”

In one fluid movement, he pulled you to straddle his lap, making you gasp. The atmosphere was growing heavy with your shared desire and anticipation.

“Say it again, doll,” he murmured in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

“I want you, Bucky. Please.”

He picked you up with strong, sure hands, making you shriek with delight as he carried you bridal-style to his bedroom. Laying you carefully down on the plush mattress, he pressed his warm body against yours, and you reveled in the delicious weight of him on top as he kissed you breathless. His kisses were deep and passionate, filled with such pure adoration that your heart fluttered in your chest.

He reached back and tugged off his red Henley, revealing his perfect physique inch by tantalizing inch. Bucky wasn’t just painfully beautiful, he was also hot. Your fingers itched to trace his skin, to feel his perfect body. Next, he slowly removed his pants, leaving him only in his tight black underwear. The impressive outline of him was clearly visible through the thin fabric, making your breath catch.

“Can I please undress you?” His voice was husky with desire but still gentle, his hair falling over his eyes.

You nodded eagerly while biting your bottom lips, your chest rising and falling with quick breaths. Although desire coursed hot through your veins, you couldn’t help but feel shy at the thought of being completely exposed before him. Bucky, ever so attentive, sensed your slight hesitation.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, doll. We can take things slow. At your own tempo.” His eyes were soft with understanding.

“I want to keep going. I-I’m just a little nervous,” you murmured, biting the inside of your cheek while your fingers fidgeted.

He traced your brow with the pad of his thumb, his touch feather-light and soothing, his voice warm and reassuring. “We’re in this together, You and me. I want to make this as perfect and comfortable as I possibly can for you.”

“Keep going, please. Undress me and make me yours.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but filled with trust.

With a quick, tender kiss to your lips, he helped remove your clothing piece by piece, his movements slow. As each article was discarded, his eyes grew wider, a dark mixture of adoration and burning hunger. He left you bra and panties on, giving you time to get comfortable. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on,” he breathed.

He kissed you passionately before his lips began a torturous journey downward, leaving a trail of heated kisses across your neck, paying special attention to that sensitive spot underneath your ear. His lips and tongue worked together perfectly, making you hum as your fingers threaded through his hair. The path of kisses led him to the valley between your breasts, where he paused to look up at you for permission, which you gave. His hands, one warm flesh and one cool metal, reached underneath you to unclasp your bra. Once removed, his attention was on your exposed skin. He worshiped every inch with his lips and tongue, and when he finally took your sensitive nipples into his mouth, altering between gentle sucks and teasing flicks, you couldn’t help but arch into his touch and release a breathy moan.

He looked up at you, his lips parted and pupils dilated, and hair falling deliciously over his face. Your eyes widened, suddenly feeling self-conscious about your vocal response, but Bucky’s reassuring smile immediately put you at ease.

“I don’t want you to hold back. Make any sound that you want so I know what makes you feel good. I want you to enjoy yourself, doll.” His voice was rough with desire but still so tender.

He continued his descent, placing open-mouthed kisses across your stomach, each touch and kiss sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The further down he went, leaving a trail of heat in his wake, the more your legs parted instinctively, anticipating what was to come. Your body seemed to know exactly what it wanted, even if your mind was racing with nervousness.

Once he was finally nestled between your open legs, he looked up at you through hooded eyes, his breath ragged and pupils blown with desire. “Can I taste you?” He murmured, his hot breath fanning across your covered core, making your back arch slightly and goosebumps ghosting your skin. You frantically nodded, your whole body trembling with anticipation, needing him to continue, wanting desperately to feel his mouth on your most intimate part.

He carefully, and slowly, pulled down your panties, his metal hand cool against your heated skin. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you were sure he could hear it. You have never gone this far before, but you trusted Bucky completely. You knew he would take care of you.

Bucky’s tongue traced his lower lip as he saw you bare and exposed, already wet and ready for his mouth. He spread your legs wider with gentle but firm hands to get a perfect view of your pussy, his eyes darkening at the sight before him.

“So beautiful,” he murmured while placing soft, teasing kisses along your inner thigh, slowly working his way towards your waiting pussy. When his tongue finally licked a broad stripe up your center, he kept his intense gaze locked on your face, studying your reactions to learn what made you feel good. You let out a surprise gasp at the unfamiliar yet incredible delicious sensation. He did it once more, this time slower and with more pressure, and you threw your head back into the pillows while gripping his dark locks between your trembling fingers.

“O-oh, t-that’s good,” you moaned breathlessly as Bucky worshiped you with his mouth. His lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, expertly switching between sucking and flicking with his tongue, while his metal hand held your hip steady to keep you from squirming. Your senses were completely overwhelmed with pleasure, every nerve ending on fire. If he kept going at this pace, you were going to come embarrassingly soon, but Bucky took notice and suddenly released you. You let out a frustrated whimper as the pending orgasm was ripped from you, your body still trembling with need.

“Hmm, you taste absolutely incredible, doll. The way you respond to me drives me wild,” he murmured against your inner thigh, his hot breath making you shiver. “As much as I would love to feel you come undone on my tongue as I watch you fall apart, I need to be inside you. I want us to come together, want to feel you wrapped around me when we both let go.”

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing together desperately as you savored the taste of each other. His metal hand cupped your cheek while his flesh one traced patterns on your hip. “Don’t move,” he murmured against your swollen lips. “I’ll go get a condom.” He gave you one last lingering peck before pulling away and disappearing into his bathroom. You could hear him rummaging around frantically for the item, cursing lowly under his breath as more drawers were opened and closed on his mission to find a condom. A few moments later he emerged with it in hand, a victorious smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he climbed back on top of you, immediately claiming your mouth in another fierce kiss that left you breathless. With trembling fingers, you tugged at his underwear, helping him shimmy out of them. Your hand experimentally wrapped around his length, making him groan deeply against your neck. His mouth fell open as you slowly moved your hand up and down his impressive cock. He was bigger than you’d imagined, and a flutter of nervousness passed through you as you wondered how painful it might be for your first time. But that anxiety was quickly overshadowed by pure want. You needed to feel him inside you, needed his passionate kisses and whispered praises in your ear. You trusted Bucky completely, knowing that he would be gentle and considerate. That he would take care of you like he always did.

You released him from your grip so he could roll the condom on, watching with hooded eyes as he prepared himself. Before you knew it, he was positioning himself between your thighs, his tip pressing against your entrance as he looked deep into your eyes, silently asking permission one final time. “Please,” you breathed out, running your hands up his strong arms. “I’m so ready, Bucky. Please, I want you.”

He slowly pushed inside your tightness, the initial stretch making you whimper and shut your eyes at the slight burning sensation. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you tried to adjust to his size, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Are you OK? Do you want to stop,” he asked with genuine concern, his flesh hand tenderly cradling your face while his metal one held him upright, the plates whirring softly with the strain of holding back. His eyes searched yours intently, ready to pull away at the slightest sign of stress. “N-no, please keep going. I need you.”

When he was fully situated inside you, stretching you deliciously, he took his time to kiss all over your face—your forehead, your closed eyelids, your warm cheeks—making you giggle. His stubble tickled your skin as his journey of tender kisses ended with an achingly sweet one to your lips. “I love you, doll. Thank you for trusting me with this, with everything.”

That was the first time he had said those three precious words to you and it made your heart almost burst out of your chest. “I love you too,” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands and stroking his cheekbones with your thumbs, “now, please move. I want to feel you take me and make me yours completely.”

He pulled out until only his tip remained inside before pushing back in with excruciating slowness, making you moan and cling to him tighter, your nails leaving marks on his broad shoulders. He repeated this careful motion several times, each thrust helping your body adjust to his impressive size.

“Please, Bucky,” you breathed against his lips, your legs hooking around his waist to pull him closer, begging him to take you properly. Your heels dug into his lower back as your body arched underneath him. He let out a deep, throaty groan that sent shivers down your spine and buried his face in your neck, kissing and sucking your sensitive skin as his hips began to move with purpose against you.

“You feel incredible, doll,” he groaned against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your heated skin, making you whimper sweetly. Bucky took notice of your reaction, adjusting his hips until he found that perfect spot that made you see stars. your whole body trembling underneath him.

He rested his forehead against yours, his blue eyes, dark with desire, gazed deeply into yours as you climbed higher towards release together. Your fingers tangled in his soft brown hair, tugging lightly as his flesh hand snaked down between your bodies to where you were joined, his skilled fingers finding and circling your sensitive clit. The dual sensation of him stimulating your clit and the tip of his cock brushing your sweet spot made your whole body sing with pleasure, your back arching off the bed. “Oh f-f-fuck, I’m so close, Bucky. Please don’t stop.”

He maintained a steady, passionate rhythm, determined to make you fall apart around him. The thought of him being the first, and hopefully only, to ever make you come undone like this had your head spinning, your vision blurring at the edges as pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak.

“Come for me, baby. I need to feel you,” he breathed against your ear, his voice rough with desire. His words sent electricity down your spine and that was the final push you needed. Your pussy pulsed around him as waves of intense pleasure took complete control over your body. You threw your head back against the pillows as stars exploded behind your vision, your fingers digging into his shoulders. With one final, deep thrust, he spilled inside the condom while burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath and muffled moans of pleasure sending shivers across your skin. He continued to move against you with slow, gentle thrusts, drawing out both of your highs until you were shaking underneath him.

As you both started to come down from your shared orgasm, he pressed a series of soft, loving kisses to your lips, making you hum in delight. You hissed at the loss when he carefully pulled out of you, immediately missing the feeling of fullness. He rolled to the side, discarding the condom, before pulling you close, tucking you perfectly against his warm chest. You nestled into his embrace, ear pressed to his chest where you could hear his calming heartbeat, as he traced gentle patterns across your back with his fingertips.

The room fell into a peaceful silence, filled only with the sound of your synchronized breathing as you basked in the afterglow of your shared bliss, savoring each other’s warmth and tender touches. After several minutes of comfortable silence, you were the first one to speak.

“That was absolutely incredible, Bucky,” you whispered against his chest, tilting your head up to meet his adoring gaze. “Thank you for being so sweet and caring, and for making my first time more special than I could have ever imagined.”

“Always, doll,” he responded with a tender smile, his metal hand coming up to gently pinch your chin as he guided your lips to his for a slow, deep kiss. “Thank you for trusting me. I feel like the luckiest man alive to be the first, and I hope only one, to ever make you come like that.”

You giggled softly against his lips, pressing another kiss to them before dropping your voice to a sultry whisper. “Well, lucky for you, Mr. Barnes, you’re the only one who will ever be allowed to make me come like that for the rest of our lives.”

“Hmm, is that a promise, doll?” He playfully growled, his eyes darkening with renewed desire as he swiftly rolled on top of you once more, caging you beneath his strong body. “Because I intend to spend the rest of my life proving just how lucky I am to do so.” His lips descended on yours again, ready to make good on that promise.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people! I would really appreciate it 🖤

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[sharklovingaquarist]

Or maybe they can be normal people. The only reason yall care about male loneliness is because it upholds a male fantasy. When you still see it as poor poor men and not assholes, there's an issue. Especially assholes who need to put up a facade in front of women. Its all performative and mechanical. They dont want relationships they want admiration and service. Acting like male loneliness is this big deal and needs to be solved immediately, like it's a flaw in our machine of a society where relationships are just stereotypical fictions, negates how women are treated by these men. They aren't being hurt WE ARE

[hannieehaee]

pookie i’m so happy your requests are finally open and would like to request when svt gets cuteness aggression bc of their s/o please? tysm pookie 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

them getting cuteness aggression from their s/o

content: established relationship implied, cuteness aggression, fluff, etc.

wc: 721

a/n: so convinced they'd all be victims to cuteness aggression with their s/o lmao hope u enjoy pookie<33

masterlist

seungcheol -

you could probably condition him into reacting whenever you did something cute. he'd be such an easy victim to cuteness aggression, always falling for any cute act of yours and scrunching up his nose, hiding his face in his hands to not give you the reaction he always gave you but always failing.

jeonghan -

that's a 24 hours, seven days a week situation for him. he finds you the cutest thing known to man and is constantly fighting with himself to not constantly express how cute he finds you. physically has to stop himself from poking at your cheeks or booping your nose.

joshua -

the type to just chuckle and shake his head at you whenever you did something extra cute. he'd sometimes even groan about it, tsk'ing at you and claiming he knew your game, he knew you did it on purpose but he would not give you the satisfaction (he would).

jun -

literally squeals and touches at your cheeks, nose, chin, ears, hair, etc. every time he sees you. constantly playing with you like you're a cute little plushie. it's kind of a staple in your relationship. he cant help the cuteness aggression, and grabbing at you is the only way to solve it.

soonyoung -

so loud and annoying about it!!! makes it everyone's business that he's in the trenches about how cute he finds you. annoying in a way where he'll be showing his friends pictures of you, his lockscreen of you, the cute handmade gift you made him, the voice memo you sent him wishing him a good day. all his friends would be victim to his cuteness aggression towards you.

wonwoo -

more lowkey about his reactions. though he does get cuteness aggression at you a lot, he'll mostly just chuckle under his breath or call you cute and adorable as he pats the top of your head or kisses your cheek.

jihoon -

groans to himself any time he catches himself feeling cuteness aggression. needs a little fidget toy to squeeze in his studio bc sometimes you'll show up unannounced wearing one of his sweatshirts or his beanies and you literally destroy his sanity.

seokmin -

cuteness aggression is like 80% of your relationship. he finds you the cutest thing in the entire world and he needs everyone to know it. squeezes at any part of your body available to him and pulls you into him and traps you into bear hugs at least three times a day. squeals and whines and groans bc he cant help himself around you.

mingyu -

you literally kill him. he'll literally whine out loud sometimes as he watches you do literally nothing at all bc he just finds you so cute. his favorite passtime is to watch you but its also torturous bc watching you implies he's not actively touching you and why the hell isnt he hugging and squeezing and kissing you rn??

minghao -

he doesnt get cuteness aggression a lot but he often finds himself watching you as the two of you just lounge around and chuckling to himself as you do literally anything. he specially finds you adorable when you wear his clothes. thinks you're the cutest thing in those moments and needs to give you (at least!!) a hug.

seungkwan -

it's a battle he fights every single day. he would finally understand how his members and fans felt any time they've seen him do something cute. he never really understood cuteness aggression as much as he did when he met you. he'd scrunch up his nose, groan, grimace, unknowing of what to do with this surge of feelings when you did something he just couldn't resist cooing at.

vernon -

the way he deals with is is mostly just chuckling to himself and shaking his head. the issue is that this happens literally every single time he interacts with you. he can be kind of stoic, except with you, you're always drawing some reaction out of him (usually out of cuteness).

chan -

he'd literally go insane any time you did something cute. very extra about it, groaning and huffing and puffing when you did something cute, blaming you because he swears you know how cute he finds you. sometimes even grabs you and holds you in some sort of bear hug, squeezing you as he moans about it.

[logansbelt]

౨ৎ ‎ ♡₊˚・₊✧ I need to cry in Logan’s arms, that’s all I want—nothing more. Maybe I’m depending on fiction too much or dealing with father issues, wait …

who said that? I have wrote similar prompts floating around, but I didn’t bother rereading them. It’s simple really do I want him to manhandle me or take care of me?౨ৎ ‎ ♡₊˚・₊✧

I’m going to sleep now goodnight 🤍

Knees pulled to your chest, staring at the wall without really seeing it. The ache in your chest had been building all day, suffocating and relentless, until it finally broke through, leaving you raw and trembling.

Logan was quiet in the doorway, watching you. He’d noticed the shift in you earlier, the way your laughter had been forced, the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You were good at hiding it—too good—but Logan had been around long enough to see through it.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice gravelly but gentle.

You flinched at the sound of his voice, your arms tightening around your knees. You didn’t look at him, afraid that if you did, the floodgates would open completely.

Logan stepped closer, his heavy footsteps muffled against the carpet. He crouched in front of you, his rough hands resting on your knees as he tried to meet your gaze.j

“Hey,” he murmured, his tone softer now. “Talk to me. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

Your throat tightened, and tears blurred your vision as you shook your head. “I’m fine,” you whispered, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Don’t do that,” Logan said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Don’t shut me out.”

The dam broke then, a sob tearing from your throat as you buried your face in your hands. The weight of everything you’d been holding back—the fear, the doubt, the pain—came crashing down all at once.

Logan didn’t say a word. He simply wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. His grip was strong and steady, his presence grounding as he held you close.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let it out.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as sobs wracked your body. The sound of your cries filled the room, and Logan just held you tighter, one hand running soothingly up and down your back.

“I’m scared,” you finally choked out, your voice trembling.

Logan pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His rough hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears as he met your gaze.

“Scared of what, honey’?” he asked gently.

“Of you leaving,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of… of you deciding I’m too much, or that I’m not enough. Everyone leaves, Logan. Everyone.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might get angry. But then his expression softened, his eyes filled with something so tender it made your chest ache.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “I’m not goin’ anywhere. You hear me? I’m not like those fuckers.”

You tried to look away, but he held your face firmly, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I know you’ve been hurt,” he continued, his voice softer now. “I know you’ve been let down, left behind. But I ain’t them. I’m here, and I’m stayin’ here. You’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

“You promise?” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Logan leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I promise,” he said firmly. “I’ll fight anyone or anything that tries to take me away from you. You don’t have to be scared of that.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the knot in your chest loosened just a little.

Logan pulled you back into his arms, holding you close as you let out a shaky breath. His hand moved to your hair, his fingers threading through it gently as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re not too much,” he murmured against your hair. “And you’re more than enough. Don’t you ever doubt that.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in his arms, your head resting against his chest as his heartbeat steadied you. The storm inside you wasn’t gone, but it felt a little quieter now, a little more manageable with him by your side.

And as Logan held you, whispering soft reassurances into your ear, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you could believe him. Because Logan wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t going anywhere.

You’d been crying for what felt like an eternity, your sobs quieting to sniffles and shaky breaths as exhaustion began to creep in. His shirt was damp where your face had been buried, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was keeping you close, holding you together when you felt like you were falling apart.

“I’m not leavin’, darlin’,” Logan murmured against the crown of your head, his voice a gravelly whisper. “Not now, not ever. You hear me?”

You didn’t respond, too drained to speak, but you nuzzled closer to him, your fingers clutching at his shirt as if to anchor yourself. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his heart breaking at how small and fragile you felt in his arms.

Minutes turned into an hour, the weight of your pain slowly easing as his warmth surrounded you. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest lulled you into a fragile sense of safety.

Eventually, your breathing evened out, and your grip on his shirt loosened. Logan glanced down to find you asleep, your face soft and peaceful despite the tear stains on your cheeks.

He adjusted you carefully, tucking a blanket around you while keeping you snug against him. His calloused hand continued to stroke your back in slow circles, even though you were already lost to sleep.

“Rest easy, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I’ll be right here.”

[ghostlysoupcan]

people in the notes being like 'the homeless are lazy unwashed leeches and shouldnt commit the crime of existing in the same place good regular hard working people and we shouldnt give them handouts for it' is so funny to me because itd only take one good medical debt to make them homeless as well and the answer to the entire issue is to just help them.

Hate seeing homeless people be unwashed and agitated all the time from having the collective worst day of their lives for the past few weeks? Gee, its almost like theyd get out of your sight and stop being smelly or angry and argumentitive if they had a house to live in, a shower to use and not worrying about getting your shit stolen or arrested. Humans get fucking scared and fucking mad when they dont have what they need to survive and theyre used to people being shitty to them, shocker there.

think about how agitated you get after not being able to shower for a week or more, or being hungry or thirsty or cold and cant fix any of those. combine that with the fact that youre dealing with financial insecurity and the fear of getting killed or arrested or worrying someone else will take what little you have left (cough cops do that all the time cough cough) And verbal abuse on top of job searches that fail due to the previous issues mentioned.

the job market is a nightmare and this isnt 1970 where you can walk in and ask for a job. you need a phone to return job calls implying you even get one. you need a car to go to the only job you can sort of do in a 30 mile radius and oh, bus infrastructure isnt everywhere, yknow. You need a place of residence and people dont like to hire those who have none.

I hope if yall become homeless that youre treated with more compassion than youve shown the people you love to call parasites because youre gonna learn pretty quick that people will just as happily hate you too. no amount of 'id be fine though cause im smart and not lazy id just-' will stop murphy from fucking you over too. Lots of people had said the same, and a lot of them still dont make it out without help.

All of this while not accounting for disabilities, physical or otherwise or not having a family or partner to bail you out.

[nemisuki]

Intertwined

Dating AU | He wasn’t aware such a small insecurity could affect your relationship that much. Lucky for him, she seems to know how to ease his worries away. 

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, no manga spoilers, pure fluff, no smut, no angst, reverse comfort lowkey, aged up to third years, they're both whipped, two idiots in love, wholesome short oneshot, 821 word count

His brows furrow with frustration at the glistening skin - small droplets of sweat already beginning to form at the surface of his palms.

Bakugos mood immediately getting ruined at the sight of it.

He takes pride in many things in his life, one of them being his quirk, the ability to create explosions from mere sweat is truly an odd but valuable power.

One that needed proper training to get used too and eventually perfected. But there was always one problem that remained and perhaps is unavoidable.

Excessive sweating.

At first it was manageable, he simply wiped it away on his pants, not thinking much of it.

Though as time went on, it grew out of control. Perhaps it was a side effect of puberty now that their seniors in highschool, who knows?

What he did know was that it was beyond irritating.

Maybe this was his karma for being too cocky in the past. He assumed his quirk had no downsides he couldn't manage, but the gods just had to humble him.

For an over hygienic guy - this was probably his worst nightmare come true.

Especially now that he has a girlfriend.

"Cmon Katsuki, we gotta return to the dorms before curfew!"

She quickly grabs a hold of his hand, cheerful expression on her face, a bright smile that could battle the sun.

Oblivious to the swirling thoughts in his head.

Dating was a concept he never thought he would experience - til he met Y/N. As a new couple he didn't expect this personal issue to have such an effect on his relationship.

But here we are.

He flinches at her touch, swiftly extracting his hand from hers, simply praying she didn't notice his clammy hands.

Her face instantly falls, switching to one of worry and hesitation, "Katsuki? Hey what's wrong?"

The blonde didn't know what else to do but stay silent, avoiding eye contact with her as he tried to think of something to say, subtly wiping his hands on his school uniform.

Feeling embarrassed to tell her about this 'problem' he's been recently dealing with.

"It's nothing."

Noticing the clear shift in his demeanor, she tries connecting the dots and gives him an apologetic look, "I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable with holding hands! I should've asked first since you hate PDA." 

His head snaps back at her, realizing the careless mistake he just made, "No no that's not what I- uh"

He sighs as irritation begins bubbling inside him, directed at himself for making her worried over something so trivial.

"It's not that dummy. My hands are..." he looks away once again. Feeling self conscious all of a sudden - opening up has never been an easy thing for him.

She notices the tip of his ears burning with a pink hue, rare shyness creeping in his voice, "My hands get sweaty a lot because of my quirk."

A moment of silence passes between them.

"It's been out of control lately so-"

His words waver as he feels her pinky finger slowly wrap around his own. Her eyes soften as she stares up at him, a look of understanding on her face.

"Ah I see. Then this is fine right?" she smiles, tilting her head to get a better view of his face.

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

"...Yeah sure, whatever" he clears his throat, avoiding her gaze completely.

She giggles at his cute demeanor, not used to seeing him like this, just thinking how soft this blonde truly is under all the walls he put over his heart.

He doesn't say much as they continue their walk back towards campus. His heart doing somersaults in his chest at the contact.

"It doesn't bother me by the way" she mumbles, smiling up at him again, "I just want to be next to you."

"You're such a sap."

He pinches her puffy cheek with his other hand - making her whine in response, trying to distract the effect her words have on him.

A small laugh escapes him as he mushes her face to form pouty duck lips, rolling his eyes at her unintelligible words of plead.

"So fucking dramatic." 

Whether to shush her up or satisfy his own desires, he quickly leans down and presses a small peck to her puckered lips. Letting her face go a second after, making the poor girl flustered and silent with shock.

"What was that for?" she says, fidgeting with her sleeves like a love struck fool.

"Tch, can I not kiss my own girlfriend?"

He spins around to walk away - making her rush to catch up, a knowing look on her face.

"I know but in public? Katsuki you sly dog~" she cooes, trying to rile him up.

"Fuck off."

"Love you too!"

At her continuous laughter and teasing, all he could do was put a fake frown on his face, but only from her eyes - she could see the small smile underneath it all.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| im really sorry for not posting much u guys! i kinda lost motivation these past couple of weeks but im finally feeling better. i actually relate to this so much bc i sadly suffer from hyperhidrosis. If you don't know what hyperhidrosis is, it's "a medical condition in which a person exhibits excessive sweating". So im basically bakugo irl u guys! one side effect is that my hands are constantly clammy and it's so annoying, me and katsuki twinning fr. my apologies go out to fellow people like us, this condition sucks so bad *sighssssss* tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[hypersaline]

NPC and Townie Ager

This is a tombstone found in misc/misc that helps keep townies'/NPCs' ages in sync with playables' during rotational play. It ages them by one day each time the relevant pie menu option is clicked (or each day at 23:30 if auto-aging is turned on) and teleports them to the lot for birthdays and old age deaths. It requires HB's Easy Inventory Check and can be downloaded here at SFS or here at Mediafire. There's no preview image for this, but exhaustive detail is available behind the cut.

Credits:

The change-model interaction was mostly taken from Inge's teleporter cat; it's possible-to-probable that I cannibalized other mods as well when I first made this, but if so I no longer know which ones.

General notes:

There's a shift-click neighborhood age randomization option. It will only affect townies/NPCs at the beginning of their current lifestage, so use it first thing if you're going to use it.

For birthdays/old age deaths, the sim will materialize close to the ager object, so it's best placed outdoors and outside of any locked gates. There's an option to change it into a small rug for easier hiding.

NPCs will be retired to the townie pool when they have a birthday.

Teens will age into adults, but there'll be a one-day-left notification in case you'd like to send them to uni.

Elders will stand quietly near the ager for up to an hour before dying. Everyone on the lot will notice, like with other on-lot deaths, and you'll have to deal with tombstones manually.

The object doesn't alter the birthday/death functions and shouldn't conflict with mods that do. You'll still need the usual bugfixes, particularly for nonplayable children's aspirations and for multiple deaths occurring at once.

There's a shift-click menu option that'll automatically make townies/NPCs grow up well; another will make them grow up well and also make their deaths peaceful. Sims that trigger a fear as they're aging (like teens who don't go to college) might still age up badly.

Known issue: the object's handling of elders has a bug or two I haven't tracked down. Occasionally an elder will persistently refuse to die until you move them in; occasionally an elder will have their age reset when they're supposed to die. Neither should cause any other issues.

Known issue: under some circumstances the ager will mistakenly grow townies/NPCs up one day into a new lifestage. Saving the game right after the ager does its thing will prevent this.

Exceptions to aging:

YAs, pets, zombies, vampires, servos, any townie/NPC with a bottle of Elixir of Life in inventory, and (in some cases) townies/NPCs that've been generated but haven't visited any lot yet won't be aged.

Babies in the adoption pool will have days subtracted but won't automatically have birthdays. You'll be notified but will have to manually summon and toss them.

Special townies like downtownies, garden clubbers, etc., will age if otherwise eligible. Note that there are (were?) bugs in how the game generates vacation locals and tourists; if yours die off, you might want to make their replacements yourself.

Not all NPCs will age, and the list of those that will is somewhat arbitrary: burglars, cops, firefighters, maids, nannies, gardeners, repairpeople, mail carriers, paperkids, cashiers, bartenders (comm lot), bartenders (party), professors, streakers, coaches, cafeteria workers, servers, hosts, DJs, business reporters, landlords, butlers.

To add NPCs I skipped, open up the 'Sub - Ageable NPC?' BHAV, scroll to the last line, choose "Ins/false" in the special buttons, switch "Const" to "Literal", make sure the Decimal box is not ticked, and enter the NPC type number from this list.

[bicokun]

Yeah, I think one thing that a lot of people who are very into politics don’t get is that most people have better things to do with their time. I mean, you can certainly argue that politics are very important and focusing on them more would probably fix most of the other issues, eventually (and I would certainly agree with that), but when our income inequality is so vast, and people are struggling to make enough money to afford shelter and groceries and everything else needed to live in our society, consider that this takes up an exorbitant amount of people’s minds and if they don’t focus on juggling all this that will have a lot more immediate consequences than digging into what politicians are doing. And, like, keep in mind that propaganda is everywhere and it’s not hard to get sucked into that stuff if you’re not paying attention. Because you’re poor and have more immediately critical things to do.

Like, this kind of take reminds me of the people who put down fat people for not working out enough and for eating poorly. Even when it turns out that they often have no time in the day to work out or plan meals or they don’t even have enough spare cash to afford the higher priced healthy foods. It’s the same deal. Poor people are just more likely to not have the time or energy or spoons left at the end of the day to bother doing homework on people who they’ve probably been told most of their lives really aren’t that different aside from one party liking small government and one liking bit government.

Many such cases.

[monsters00km]

Arcane is a Tragedy.

I think this needs said. And Boldly and Italicized.

tragedy, branch of drama that treats in a serious and dignified style the sorrowful or terrible events encountered or caused by a heroic individual. By extension the term may be applied to other literary works, such as the novel. - encyclopedia Britannica

I keep seeing people talk about how the Zaun and Piltover issue is unresolved. And I NEED you to hear this. This show is a tragedy.

This is not some YA where everything gets tied up in a bow. Or a fantasy that ends with the great and powerful evil being destroyed and now we need to build a new society based on good.

The ending is supposed to be unhappy. And I need people to understand this.

I understand if you don't like it. But I need you to stop saying it's unresolved. Bc it is. It just isn't resolved in a manor that you like.

And if you look at the definition this fits Arcane perfectly.

Who are the Heroic individuals?

Jayce

Viktor

Mel

Caitlyn

Vi

Jinx

Ekko

Almost every one of them made decisions that made things worse. Regardless of their intentions. Mel gives Jayce and Viktor the opportunity to create hextech. Jayce creates Hextech. And as a result to this, Viktor gets consumed by Hextech and tried to "save" everyone. Ekko follows Jayce and sets everyone on this path. Jinx tries to save her family and end up killing them. Vi is constantly trying to save everyone, and no matter how hard she tries she can't. Caitlyn tries to help Zaun and makes the right choice in not killing Jinx. But in doing so Piltover gets attacked and her mother dies.

Vi is a great example of this. She tries again and again, but each outcome is negative. And pretty much everytime is not because of her, it's because of everyone around her.

She tries to turn herself in. Benzo dies and Vander gets kidnapped. Tries to save Vander milo and claggor die. Tries to step away from powder to calm her rage, gets imprisoned and Powder gets taken in by Silco. Tries to go after Powder and let Caitlyn and Ekko go to Piltover, Jinx attacks the bridge in a rage. Gets caitlyn to safety powder blows herself up. Gets Jayce to infiltrate and take out a shimmer factory, jayce kills a kid. Stops caitlyn from hurting Jinx, council gets blown up. Stops Caitlyn from hurting Jinx, gets broken up with. Helps save her dad, dad loses himself after Jayce kills Viktor. Like poor girl. Is out here trying her best. And to no fault of her own, everything just keeps failing.

And those are just scratching the surface. This entire story is that Viktor quote "In our pursuit to do great, we failed to do good."

It's is everywhere.

Silco tries to free Zaun, but in doing so, he enslaves Zaun children and gets a large portion of the population addicted to Shimmer.

Hemeirdinger tried to create a city that valued science and progress and failed to see the corruption around him, which caused inequality.

Vander, in his pursuit to save the undercity, makes a deal with the sheriff. But in doing so, he doesn't help Zaun with any of their problems. All he is doing is keeping them safe.

Sorry, i feel like this was sporatic, and i don't know how to fix it. But this show was never about a happy ending. Or an ending where everything gets resolved to the satisfaction of the characters or the viewers. It is a tragedy. That is about these characters and the choices they make and the realistic ending.

And before you say it! Think about if it is actually realistic. And not an idealistic reality that you want.

[arilevenatz]

By Her Side

Pairing: Bodyguard! Mingi x princess!reader

Genre/trope: fluff, comedy (?), Modern royal au

Word count: 8.5k

Warnings: Age difference, reader is 10 years younger than Mingi, Mingi and reader first met when she was 10, but it was just cute relation back then, reader's hand gets burned. Lmk later if I missed something!

AN: phewww now this might not be for everyone guys. It's a risky trope for some people but because I have parental issues I'm fine with this. But if u still decide to read this after ignoring the warnings and then proceed to hate my work, I'm gonna delete and block you. That being said, enjoy Mingi being an absolute cutie

The Kang family had always been at the center of their nation’s identity, revered for their grace, strength, and modern leadership. Crown Prince Kang Yeosang, the epitome of royal perfection, was frequently seen fulfilling his duties with calm authority. The press adored him, and the people admired his unwavering commitment to the country.

But then, there was her—the mysterious younger sibling, the princess. Her name was only whispered in the media, her face hidden behind the shroud of privacy. She was unlike any princess depicted in the movies or books. She spent her days like an ordinary teenager, far removed from the royal spotlight, in oversized hoodies and sneakers. To her, the palace gates were more like walls keeping her in than protecting her from the outside world.

The princess rarely appeared at public events, and even when she did, the cameras were only granted fleeting glimpses of her, often from the side or with her head bowed. While the media speculated about her personality, the truth was far simpler—she just wanted a normal life.

To the world, she was Princess YN of the Kang family—a figure shrouded in mystery. But to the people who mattered, she was just YN. She attended a regular high school, sat in the same classrooms as everyone else, and blended into the crowd so seamlessly that most of her classmates often forgot about her royal title. She was the girl who shared notes, cracked jokes, and groaned about exams like everyone else.

Her friends treated her like one of their own, never bowing or tiptoeing around her. They teased her when she tripped in gym class and cheered her on during group projects. They knew who she was but never made it a big deal. She loved that.

What wasn’t so normal, however, was the tall figure who accompanied her everywhere—Mingi, her bodyguard. Dressed in unassuming clothes and rarely speaking unless needed, Mingi was her silent protector, always lingering at the edges of her life. Whether she was walking to school, grabbing ice cream after class, or spending hours at the library, Mingi was there.

He wasn’t just a bodyguard, though. To YN, he was more like a guardian, someone who quietly guided and watched over her. While her friends sometimes teased her about having her “personal watchdog,” she never minded. Mingi had been a part of her life for so long that she couldn’t imagine going anywhere without him.

During lunch breaks, while her friends chatted and laughed, Mingi often sat a few tables away, scrolling through his phone but always aware of her. When they walked home from school, she’d casually chatter about her day, and though Mingi’s replies were short, his presence was steady and comforting.

“I bet you think my math teacher hates me,” she said one day, munching on a bag of chips as they walked to her favorite bookstore.

“I don’t think he hates you,” Mingi replied, glancing at her. “But maybe stop arguing about every grade?”

She grinned. “Never. Someone has to keep him on his toes.”

“You’re going to give me gray hair before I’m 30,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“You’d look good with gray hair,” she teased, nudging him.

Moments like these made YN feel like the luckiest girl in the world. She might have been born into royalty, but with Mingi by her side, she got to live a life that felt wonderfully, perfectly normal.

How did they meet? Well the meeting was a bit chaotic.

It had been a quiet spring afternoon when ten-year-old YN first met Mingi. The palace halls were dappled with sunlight, and the faint hum of gardeners at work outside filled the air. YN, dressed in her favorite pale blue dress, sat in the corner of the grand library, building a lopsided tower of books. She was humming to herself when a knock interrupted her focus.

“YN,” the King’s voice came from the doorway, deep and steady as always, “I want you to meet someone.”

She turned, pushing her hair out of her face, and blinked at the tall figure standing beside her father. He was lanky but strong, with wide shoulders and a quiet confidence that seemed far too mature for someone who looked only a decade older than her. His black hair was neatly combed, and he looked stiff in his uniform—nervous, even.

“This is Song Mingi,” the King continued, his tone softer now. “He’s going to be your bodyguard from today onward.”

“Bodyguard?” YN tilted her head, confusion written all over her face. “Why do I need a bodyguard?”

The King smiled. “Because you’re very special, YN. And special people need someone to look after them.”

Mingi bowed deeply, his voice low but clear as he spoke for the first time. “It’s an honor to serve you, Your Highness.”

YN frowned, her gaze darting between her father and the stranger. “So… what does he do? Stand around and look boring?”

Her father chuckled, patting her head gently. “He’ll be here to keep you safe and help you with anything you need.” With that, the King left, leaving YN alone with the unfamiliar young man.

For the first few days, YN wasn’t quite sure what to make of Mingi. He followed her everywhere, always a step behind, silent and watchful. Whether she was in her room playing with her dolls, exploring the gardens, or eating her meals, he was there.

“Do you ever talk?” she asked him one day, spinning around to face him as he stood by the door to her room.

“If you want me to,” he replied simply, his voice calm.

“What’s the point of you being here if you’re just going to be boring?” she huffed, crossing her arms.

But things began to change after a few days. It started with little things—how Mingi always made sure her favorite snacks were on hand during study time, how he carried her books without being asked, or how he gently guided her away from muddy puddles in the garden without a word. When she tripped during a game of tag with her friends, Mingi was the first to rush to her side, kneeling to check her scraped knee.

“You’re not hurt badly,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “But let’s get this cleaned up.”

From that moment, something shifted. YN began to trust him. Soon, she found herself clinging to him more and more. She’d tug at his sleeve whenever she wanted something, ask him endless questions about his life, and insist he sit with her during meals, even if he tried to politely decline.

“Mingi, do you like chocolate or vanilla?” she’d ask, holding up two bowls of ice cream.

“Vanilla, I guess,” he’d reply, only for her to shove the bowl of chocolate into his hands with a grin. “Well, I like chocolate, so you’re eating this one.”

It wasn’t long before Mingi became the center of her little world. To her, he wasn’t just a bodyguard—he was a constant, someone who made her feel safe in a way she didn’t even realize she needed. She didn’t care about the circumstances that brought him to the palace, or that he was the son of a noble family that had fallen from grace. To her, he was simply Mingi, her guardian, her protector, and the one person she trusted with everything.

By the end of the first month, she was practically glued to his side. Wherever YN went, Mingi wasn’t far behind—and she made sure of it.

The palace soon became accustomed to the sight of YN clinging to Mingi like he was a second skin. Wherever she went, her tiny hands were either clutching his sleeve, gripping his uniform jacket, or reaching up to be carried. And Mingi, with his endless patience, always obliged her, no matter how exhausting her energy seemed to be.

One day, while attending a charity event with her parents, YN grew bored of the endless formalities. The long speeches and handshakes weren’t exactly ten-year-old-friendly. Spotting Mingi standing a short distance away, she made her way over to him, ignoring her mother’s disapproving glance.

“Mingi,” she whined softly, tugging at his sleeve. “I’m tired.”

He crouched down, his expression softening. “Want me to take you somewhere quieter?”

“Carry me,” she demanded, lifting her arms up dramatically.

Without hesitation, he scooped her up, balancing her effortlessly on his hip. She snuggled into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder. The cameras caught the moment almost instantly, flashes illuminating the hall as reporters whispered to each other. The next day, headlines were plastered across every paper: “Princess YN Finds Her Comfort in Her Shadow, Bodyguard Mingi!”

It didn’t stop there. The media couldn’t get enough of their dynamic. During a public library visit, YN decided to curl up in Mingi’s lap while reading one of her favorite picture books. It was an innocent gesture—she had always leaned on him as a source of comfort—but the sight of the princess slouched against the stoic bodyguard with her book upside down made the perfect photograph.

“Do you think you could sit any straighter?” Mingi teased in a low whisper, glancing down at her as she adjusted herself against him.

“Nope. I’m comfy,” she mumbled without looking up.

The royal PR team later joked that the image single-handedly made the entire nation collectively “awww.”

Another instance came during a school event. YN, participating in a relay race, tripped over her shoelaces midway. She wasn’t hurt, but her face scrunched up in frustration as the other kids raced ahead of her. Before anyone could step in, Mingi walked straight onto the track, kneeling beside her.

“You okay, Princess?” he asked gently.

“No!” she pouted. “I was winning!”

“Want me to carry you to the finish line?” he joked.

Her eyes lit up instantly. “Yes!”

Despite the protests of her teacher, Mingi picked her up, her arms looping tightly around his neck, and jogged to the finish line. The other kids laughed and cheered, and YN wore a smug grin for the rest of the day. The moment was, of course, caught on video and quickly went viral.

In quieter moments, their bond shone just as brightly. During long car rides to royal functions, YN would inevitably fall asleep against Mingi’s shoulder, her little body slouching into his side. No matter how cramped or awkward the position, Mingi never moved until she woke up, even if his arm went numb.

“Doesn’t she get heavy?” one of the royal aides once asked him, watching as Mingi carried a dozing YN into the palace after a long day.

“Not at all,” he replied simply, adjusting her slightly so she’d be more comfortable.

Mingi didn’t care about the headlines or the public perception. To him, YN wasn’t just his responsibility—she was his charge, his little princess. And to YN, Mingi wasn’t just her bodyguard. He was her rock, her protector, and the one person who never let go.

As YN grew older, her dynamic with Mingi evolved, but in many ways, it stayed the same. He was no longer the one carrying her around or fetching things for her—she had plenty of palace staff to do that—but Mingi remained her constant, her anchor, and most importantly, her best friend.

“Hey, Mingi,” she said one day, sprawled across the palace couch, flipping through her phone. “Can you believe someone asked me to bring them a cup of water today? Me. A princess. I mean, can you imagine?”

Mingi, who was sitting nearby with a book in hand, glanced at her, unimpressed. “You could’ve just gotten it for them.”

“I don’t think so.” She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “That’s what staff is for.”

He shook his head, hiding a small smile. “You’re impossible.”

“But you like me this way,” she quipped, tossing a cushion at him.

Mingi might have been her bodyguard, but to her, he was the one person in the palace who never treated her like royalty. He didn’t bow, didn’t rush to fulfill her every whim. And she liked that. She didn’t need to ask him for anything—he already gave her his loyalty, his protection, and his steady presence.

She didn’t hesitate to make the distinction clear to others, though. If anyone dared to suggest Mingi do something outside of his role, she was quick to shut it down.

“Mingi isn’t staff,” she’d say firmly. “He’s my friend. Get someone else to do it.”

Her other staff quickly learned that Mingi held a special place in her life, and they respected it. Meanwhile, YN never held back from treating him like a confidant. She’d drag him to her favorite places, tell him all her secrets, and share everything from her late-night worries to her wildest dreams.

“You know, sometimes I think you’re the only person who actually knows me,” she told him one evening as they sat in the palace garden.

“That’s because you talk my ear off,” Mingi teased, though his voice was warm.

“Well, someone has to listen,” she shot back with a grin, leaning her head against his shoulder.

And though Mingi never said it, he valued their friendship just as much. To him, she wasn’t just a princess—she was YN, his closest friend, the one person who treated him like family in a world that often felt far too formal.

It was a crisp winter evening, the kind where the cold seemed to seep into your bones despite the layers of warm clothing. The royal family stood on the grand balcony of the palace, gazing down at the crowd gathered for the annual winter gala. A sea of people, elegantly dressed in thick coats and scarves, murmured excitedly below, admiring the lights twinkling across the square.

YN stood near the railing, her eyes wandering over the scene, but she wasn’t paying much attention to the event itself. Instead, she was focused on the warm presence beside her. Mingi stood just behind her, always watchful, his dark coat blending with the night as he ensured she remained comfortable despite the chill in the air.

Every few moments, Mingi would glance down at YN, noting how her scarf had slipped a little, exposing her neck to the cold. Without a word, he gently adjusted it, making sure it was wrapped securely around her. YN barely noticed—she was used to it by now. Mingi’s careful attention to her every need had become second nature.

“YN,” Mingi’s voice cut through the soft hum of the crowd, “your scarf came loose again.”

YN sighed, her breath visible in the cold air, and shifted closer to him, her cheek grazing his coat as she stood slightly slouched against his side. She had grown used to his hovering, his need to ensure she was always warm and taken care of. It wasn’t annoying to her—it felt like normal.

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, her voice muffled by the cold air, but she made no move to pull away from him. She liked the way Mingi was always there, always making sure she was safe and comfortable.

Mingi didn’t argue. He simply adjusted the scarf one more time, then slipped a small heat pack into her hands, holding one against her ear, knowing how much she hated the cold seeping into her sensitive skin. He didn’t even ask if she was okay. He just knew.

YN clutched the heat pack with both hands, pressing it against her ear, and looked up at him, offering a small, thankful smile. There was no need for words—Mingi's actions spoke for him. She wasn’t bothered by the constant attention, the way he fussed over her in the cold. To YN, it was just how things had always been, and she couldn’t imagine a winter night without Mingi there, making sure she was taken care of.

She let out a soft breath and leaned against his side, her body instinctively seeking the warmth he always provided. Mingi didn’t pull away. In fact, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her a little closer to shield her from the wind.

To the royal family, the people on the balcony, and the watching crowd, this was simply the expected sight—the princess, calm and composed, standing with her ever-vigilant bodyguard. But to YN, this was the norm. It wasn’t a chore or anything unusual. It was Mingi. Her best friend. Her protector. And for the first time, with the wind biting at her skin, she leaned into him even more, grateful for the comfort that only he could give.

The next morning, as YN sat in the grand dining room with her family, sipping on her warm tea, the morning papers were spread across the table. She glanced lazily at the headlines, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup absentmindedly. As usual, there was a flurry of royal gossip, but one headline caught her eye.

"Princess YN and Bodyguard Mingi: A Winter Night of Comfort and Protection"

She frowned, her brow furrowing as she skimmed through the article. Pictures of her and Mingi on the balcony the night before had been plastered all over the page—images of her clinging to his side, the heat packs in her hands, and Mingi adjusting her scarf. It was clear the media had turned their attention to their every move, almost as if they were trying to capture some deeper meaning behind their closeness.

“Why are they so obsessed with me?” YN asked, looking up at Mingi, who was quietly standing beside her, ever-watchful.

Mingi glanced at the newspaper but said nothing, instead focusing on adjusting the setting of her teacup. He knew what was coming.

“Well?” she pressed, looking up at him with wide, curious eyes. "I mean, it’s not like I did anything special. It’s just cold, and you were just… looking out for me.”

Mingi smiled softly, his expression gentle as he gave her a small nod. “You’re not just anyone, YN.”

She blinked, still not fully understanding. “But why? I’m just me.”

“That’s just it,” he said, kneeling beside her so they were eye-level. “You are a princess. People look up to you. They admire you for who you are, for everything you represent.”

YN’s brows furrowed even deeper, and she leaned back in her chair, trying to wrap her head around his words. She was so used to the quiet normalcy of her life that she had never truly realized how the world saw her.

She mumbled softly, tracing a line in the condensation on her teacup. “I don’t want all this attention. It feels so… weird.”

Mingi chuckled softly, his tone warm but reassuring. “It can be a lot, yes. But that’s just the way it is when you’re born into the royal family. You’re not just living for yourself. Your actions, your presence, it matters to people. They care about you because they see you as someone who represents the country, its hopes, its dreams.”

YN blinked, trying to absorb his explanation. “So it’s not because I’m cute or something?” she asked, her lips curling into a small, playful smile.

Mingi chuckled, shaking his head. “Of course, you’re cute. But it’s more than that. You’re the princess. The future of this kingdom.”

YN paused, staring down at her tea. She didn’t fully understand all of it, but there was something about the way Mingi explained it that made her feel both strange and important.

“You always say things that sound so serious,” she muttered, not quite grasping the weight of what he meant.

Mingi smiled at her, knowing how young and innocent her thoughts still were despite her royal title. “You don’t have to understand everything now. Just know that you’re more than you think you are. And that’s why people are watching.”

YN let out a sigh, her head drooping as she thought about it. “I guess I’ll have to get used to it, huh?”

Mingi nodded, giving her a light pat on the back. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

And even though she didn’t fully grasp the complexities of her status, YN knew that one thing would never change: Mingi would always be there by her side, keeping things normal, keeping things grounded—just like a friend.

A few days after the whole winter gala incident, YN and Mingi found themselves attending a royal charity dinner, an event full of formalities and stiff faces. YN, however, wasn’t one to enjoy the seriousness of these events. Her mind often wandered, especially when the speeches began. That evening, as she sat next to Mingi, her attention started to drift.

At first, she tried to occupy herself with her phone under the table, but her restless fingers quickly grew bored. She glanced over at Mingi, who was dutifully standing beside her, observing the guests with his usual focused expression.

“Hey, Mingi,” she whispered, poking him lightly in the ribs. “Do you think the soup is too hot? Or do you think they put something weird in it?”

Mingi glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean by ‘weird’?”

“Like… I don’t know,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What if they secretly put... chocolate in it?”

Mingi chuckled, clearly amused by the absurdity of her thoughts. “YN, don’t be silly. Chocolate in soup is—”

But before he could finish, YN's mischievous grin appeared. She leaned over toward him and whispered in a stage whisper, “What if we just sneak a taste? You know, just to see if it’s chocolate or not.”

Mingi looked at her in disbelief. “YN—no, we’re not sneaking food under the table.”

But that was exactly what she was about to do. Without further hesitation, YN grabbed her spoon from the table and casually dipped it into the bowl of soup, all while trying to act as if she were merely adjusting it. The only problem was, she hadn’t quite thought it through. As she tried to raise the spoon to her lips, she accidentally splashed some of the soup onto her dress.

“Oops,” she muttered, trying to cover the small spill by quickly wiping it with her napkin.

Mingi, ever the protector, quickly leaned in to help, but the moment he did, he accidentally knocked his own drink—an expensive glass of red wine—right onto YN’s lap.

“Ah! Mingi!” she yelped, wide-eyed. The wine spread across her dress in an instant.

The room went silent for a moment, and YN couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Oh my god, what did you do? You just exploded my lap with wine!”

Mingi looked horrified, his face flushed. “I’m so sorry, Princess, I didn’t—”

“Don’t worry,” she interrupted, still giggling. “At least the wine looks kind of fancy, right?”

Mingi quickly grabbed some napkins and tried to dab away the mess, but YN was now laughing so hard that she could hardly keep her composure.

“What’s going on over there?” someone whispered nearby.

“Oh, nothing,” YN said between fits of laughter. “Just Mingi trying to drown me in wine and soup.”

Mingi shot her an exasperated look, but even he couldn’t hold back a smile. “You’re impossible.”

The rest of the evening went on with everyone around them trying hard not to giggle at the mess they had unintentionally made. And though YN’s dress was ruined, it was just another one of those funny moments that felt normal between the two of them—a princess and her overprotective bodyguard, who never seemed to do anything quite by the book.

One afternoon, as YN lounged lazily in the palace, scrolling through her phone, she noticed Mingi, who had just returned from his usual workout. The sight of him, all flushed from his session and wiping sweat from his forehead, made her pause mid-scroll.

Her mind, never short of strange ideas, suddenly lit up with a random, ridiculous thought.

What if... she mused, a mischievous glint appearing in her eyes. What if I swing from his biceps?

Without a second thought, she stood up and walked casually toward the workout area where Mingi was cooling down with some stretches. His attention was focused entirely on his breathing, unaware that YN was about to disrupt his hard-earned relaxation.

“Mingi,” she said in the sweetest tone she could muster, stepping into his personal space, “I’ve been thinking.”

Mingi, still slightly out of breath, raised an eyebrow, giving her a suspicious look. “Uh-oh. That’s never good.”

“No, no,” she said, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “It’s a good thought. A very good one.”

He groaned. “What are you plotting now, YN?”

She grinned widely, moving closer and without warning, gently tugging on his arm. “I want to swing from your biceps.”

There was a long pause, and Mingi blinked in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me,” YN said with a shrug, grinning even more mischievously.

“Do you want me to install a swing in the garden for you?” Mingi asked hesitantly.

“No! I’ve seen you working out so hard, and I’m curious. You look strong enough. Come on, just once. Let me swing from your biceps.”

Mingi, still processing what she said, stared at her for a moment. Then, without much else to do, he rolled his eyes and sighed, but there was a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, this is the weirdest request you’ve ever made.”

“I know, right?” YN said, bouncing on her feet in excitement. “But come on, you owe me for making me stay in all these boring royal events.”

Mingi could only shake his head in disbelief, giving in because he knew YN was never going to let it go. “Fine, fine. But if you hurt yourself, I’m not responsible.”

“Deal!” she said, her voice full of joy.

With one smooth motion, she jumped toward him, wrapping her arms around his thick bicep. He flexed slightly, just enough to lift her off the ground, and YN squealed in delight as she swung from his arm like a monkey.

“See? This is fun!” she exclaimed, giggling wildly.

Mingi stood there, still holding her with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “You are ridiculous.”

“I know,” YN grinned, her legs swinging back and forth. “But it’s a good kind of ridiculous, don’t you think?”

“You’re lucky I work out so much,” Mingi muttered, though there was affection in his voice.

“Thank you!” she laughed, then swung once more before jumping down. “This was exactly what I needed.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

But YN didn’t mind. She was already back to lounging, her weird request fulfilled. Mingi might have had his personal workout time invaded, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but smile at how his friendship with YN always kept things unpredictable—and oddly fun.

It was a sunny afternoon, and YN was feeling particularly adventurous—or rather, particularly bored. Mingi had been called to attend a brief meeting with the palace security staff, leaving her to her own devices. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue, but YN being YN, boredom wasn’t something she handled gracefully.

She decided to take matters into her own hands.

“I don’t need Mingi for everything,” she muttered under her breath, determined to prove that she could function just fine on her own. “How hard can it be to make a cup of tea or something?”

She strolled into the palace kitchen, glancing around at the unfamiliar appliances and shiny surfaces. She had seen Mingi brew tea for her countless times before—it looked easy enough. She grabbed a kettle, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove. With a smug grin, she flicked the stove on and waited.

Moments later, the kettle started whistling, and YN panicked. “Oh no, it’s screaming at me!” she yelled, fumbling with the knobs. Instead of turning the stove off, she accidentally turned it higher. The whistle got louder, and in her panic, she grabbed the kettle with her bare hands.

“HOT! HOT! HOT!” she shrieked, flailing her hands and dropping the kettle back onto the stove with a loud clang.

Hearing the commotion, several staff members rushed into the kitchen, only to find the princess standing there, her cheeks flushed, holding her now slightly red hands.

“Your Highness, are you alright?” one of them asked, clearly concerned.

“I’m fine,” YN grumbled, glaring at the offending kettle. “This thing just hates me.”

Before the staff could offer assistance, the door to the kitchen burst open, and in strode Mingi, looking mildly out of breath and thoroughly unimpressed.

“What is going on here?” he asked, his voice low and calm, but his eyes scanning her for injuries.

YN froze, caught red-handed—literally. “Nothing,” she said quickly, hiding her hands behind her back.

Mingi crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “Nothing? Because it doesn’t sound like nothing. It sounds like someone decided to play chef without supervision.”

“I was just trying to make tea,” she muttered, pouting. “How hard can it be? You do it all the time.”

Mingi sighed, stepping closer and gently pulling her hands into view. He inspected her reddened palms, his frown deepening. “You burned yourself.”

“It’s just a tiny burn,” she protested.

Without a word, Mingi grabbed a small first-aid kit from the counter, pulled her to a nearby chair, and sat her down. As he carefully applied some ointment to her hands, YN watched him silently, feeling both guilty and oddly comforted.

“You’re not allowed in the kitchen alone anymore,” Mingi said firmly, wrapping a bandage around her hand.

“But I was just trying to—”

“YN,” he interrupted, looking her straight in the eye. “You are truly hopeless without me.”

She opened her mouth to argue but then closed it again, realizing he wasn’t wrong. “Fine,” she muttered, leaning her head on his shoulder dramatically. “I guess I do need you for everything.”

Mingi chuckled softly, his expression softening. “That’s what I’m here for.”

From then on, YN stayed far away from the kitchen—unless Mingi was there to supervise. And though she occasionally teased him for being overprotective, deep down, she knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It was a chilly, overcast morning, the kind where the sky hung low and gray, promising rain at any moment. YN sat with her group of friends in the school common area, bundled up in her scarf and coat. The conversation drifted from homework to weekend plans, and finally, as it often did, to crushes and dream weddings.

“I think I’d want someone who’s athletic,” one friend said, her cheeks pink as she laughed.

“Yeah, but he also has to be super smart,” another added.

“What about you, YN?” one of them asked, leaning in with a teasing grin. “You never talk about this stuff. Who’s your dream guy?”

YN blinked, caught off guard by the question. Normally, she’d deflect with a joke or tease them back, but today, she hesitated.

Her friends stared at her expectantly, but instead of conjuring up a romantic fantasy, her mind went somewhere else entirely—to Mingi.

She thought of how he always stood by her, carrying her heavy school bags without complaint. How he remembered to pack her favorite snacks on long days and made sure she had an umbrella when the sky threatened rain, just like today. How his steady, quiet presence had been the one constant in her life for as long as she could remember.

But then, like a sudden gust of wind cutting through the chill, another thought hit her: One day, I’ll have to leave him behind.

Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t like her friends, free to imagine marrying their crushes or choosing their own futures. She was a princess, bound by duty. One day, she’d be expected to marry someone suitable—a prince or nobleman chosen by her family, someone who fit the royal image. And Mingi… Mingi would remain as he was, her protector, her shadow. But never more.

The thought felt like a weight pressing down on her chest, and she didn’t know why it hurt so much.

“YN? Hellooo?” her friend waved a hand in front of her face, snapping her out of her daze.

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” YN mumbled, forcing a small smile. “I was just… thinking.”

Her friends exchanged amused looks, laughing lightly. “Thinking about your crush, huh?” one teased.

“Something like that,” YN muttered, though her heart wasn’t in it. She laughed along with them, but the unease in her chest lingered for the rest of the day.

The school bell rang, signaling the end of the day, and YN packed her things slowly, her thoughts still clouded from the earlier conversation with her friends. The idea of leaving Mingi someday had weighed heavily on her throughout the day, and she couldn’t shake it.

As she exited the school building, there he was, as always—Mingi. He leaned casually against the sleek black car, dressed in his usual suit, an umbrella in hand just in case it rained again. His watchful eyes immediately softened when they met hers, and he straightened up, opening the car door for her.

“Rough day?” he asked, noticing the faint frown on her face as she approached.

YN didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she stood there for a moment, looking at him, her thoughts racing. She thought about how he was always there, waiting for her, protecting her, ensuring she never had to worry about anything. And the idea of losing that—of losing him—was unbearable.

“Mingi,” she said suddenly, her voice firm but her eyes filled with emotion.

He blinked, surprised by her tone. “Yes?”

“I’ve decided,” she said, stepping closer to him, her hands clutching the straps of her backpack. “I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

Mingi tilted his head, confused by her sudden declaration. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean it,” she continued, her words tumbling out impulsively. “If I have to marry someone, it’ll be you.”

There was a brief, stunned silence as Mingi processed her words. His eyes widened slightly, and for the first time in a long while, he looked genuinely flustered.

“YN,” he started, his voice gentle but firm, “you can’t just—”

“I’m serious!” she interrupted, her cheeks flushing but her gaze unwavering. “Why should I marry some random prince or noble when you’re the one who’s always been there for me? You’re the one who takes care of me, who knows me better than anyone else. Who else would I want by my side?”

Mingi exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. He crouched slightly so they were at eye level, his expression softening.

“YN,” he said carefully, “I’ve been by your side since you were a kid. My job is to protect you and make sure you’re safe. That’s what I’m here for. But marrying me?” He shook his head lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not how it works.”

“But why not?” she pressed, her voice quieter now but still determined. “I don’t care about what’s ‘supposed’ to happen. I just… I don’t want to lose you, Mingi.”

His expression softened even more, and he placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “You’re not going to lose me,” he said firmly. “No matter what happens, I’ll always be here. That’s a promise, remember?”

YN bit her lip, her shoulders relaxing slightly at his reassurance. “You better mean it,” she muttered, her cheeks still pink.

“I do,” he said with a quiet chuckle, straightening up and opening the car door again. “Now, come on. Let’s get you home before you decide to propose to me in front of the whole school.”

She let out a small laugh, climbing into the car, her heart feeling a little lighter. As they drove away, YN glanced at Mingi through the rearview mirror, her mind still replaying their conversation.

That evening, after they arrived back at the palace, YN couldn’t keep the thoughts swirling in her head any longer. As soon as dinner was over, she excused herself and marched straight to her father’s study.

The king was sitting at his large oak desk, reading through a stack of documents when she entered without knocking—a habit he often teased her about but secretly adored. Her mother, the queen, was seated on the nearby couch, sipping tea as she reviewed her own set of papers. Both of them looked up in surprise when YN stood before them, her face set with determination.

“Father, Mother,” she started, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her chest, “I need to talk to you about something important.”

The king raised an eyebrow, setting down his pen. “What is it, my dear? You look serious.”

“I’ve been thinking about the future,” she said, clasping her hands together. “About how one day, I’ll have to marry someone. But I don’t want to marry some stranger or someone chosen just because of their title. I want… I want Mingi.”

The room went silent, the words hanging heavy in the air.

The queen blinked, clearly taken aback. “Mingi? As in your bodyguard?”

YN nodded firmly. “Yes. He’s been there for me my whole life. He’s the one who truly knows me, who understands me. I don’t see why I have to marry someone else just because it’s tradition. It’s not fair.”

The king leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful but hesitant. “YN, you know we’ve always respected your opinions and wishes. But this… This isn’t something we can decide so easily. Mingi is—”

“—not a royal,” the queen finished gently, though her tone carried a note of concern.

“I don’t care about that!” YN interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “Why does it matter? Times have changed, haven’t they? People don’t care about traditions as much as they used to. They care about love and happiness. And I know what I want.”

The king exchanged a glance with the queen, both of them clearly unsure how to respond.

It was then that the door opened, and Yeosang stepped in, his brows furrowed as he looked between his parents and YN. “What’s going on?” he asked, sensing the tension in the room.

“She wants to marry Mingi,” the queen explained, her voice laced with a mix of disbelief and worry.

Yeosang’s eyebrows shot up, and then, much to everyone’s surprise, he smiled slightly. “Well, why not?”

“Yeosang!” the queen said, shocked by his response.

“Mother, Father,” Yeosang said calmly, stepping closer, “it’s not the old days anymore. Things are different now. People won’t revolt just because the princess marries someone who isn’t royal. In fact, they’ll probably love it. You’ve seen how the media adores her bond with Mingi. They’d see it as proof that she’s grounded, that she cares about real connections instead of outdated customs.”

The king frowned, clearly conflicted. “It’s not just about the public, Yeosang. It’s about the responsibility, the image, the—”

“The happiness of your daughter,” Yeosang interrupted gently but firmly. “Shouldn’t that come first?”

YN looked at her brother, her eyes wide with gratitude. She hadn’t expected him to stand up for her so strongly, and it gave her a surge of hope.

The queen sighed, looking at her husband. “He’s not wrong, you know. But… it’s still hard to let go of traditions we’ve followed for so long.”

The king rubbed his temples, clearly torn. After a long pause, he looked at YN. “This isn’t a decision we can make overnight. But… if this is truly what you want, we’ll consider it. Just give us some time.”

It wasn’t a definitive yes, but it wasn’t a no either. YN’s heart swelled with a mix of relief and hope.

“Thank you,” she said softly, bowing slightly before leaving the room.

As YN left the study, her thoughts still buzzing with hope and relief, she heard familiar footsteps behind her. She turned to see Yeosang following her down the grand hallway, his hands casually tucked into his pockets.

“What?” she asked, stopping in her tracks and raising an eyebrow at him.

Yeosang sighed, motioning for her to keep walking as he fell into step beside her. “I need to talk to you,” he said, his tone calm but firm.

She rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to tell me I’m being ridiculous, don’t bother. You already supported me in front of Mother and Father.”

“I did,” Yeosang agreed, glancing at her. “But only because I’m tired of those outdated customs, too. And because, if anyone deserves you, it’s Mingi. He’s practically perfect for you.”

YN blinked in surprise at his honesty, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Really? You think so?”

“Yes, I do,” he admitted with a shrug. “He’s loyal, reliable, and has been by your side for years. I know he’d do anything to keep you safe and happy. That’s the kind of person you need in your life.”

Her smile grew, but before she could thank him, he stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression more serious now.

“But, YN,” he said firmly, “you’re still too young to make decisions like this.”

Her smile faltered. “What do you mean? I know what I want.”

“You think you do,” he replied, his tone gentle but unyielding. “But you’re only a teenager. Marriage isn’t just about liking someone or thinking they’re a good person. It’s a huge commitment, and it comes with responsibilities you can’t even imagine right now.”

“I’m not saying I want to marry him tomorrow,” she argued, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying that when the time comes, it should be my choice. And I chose Mingi.”

Yeosang sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it. You’ve grown up with him. He’s been like your rock, your anchor. It makes sense that you’d feel this way. But you need to take a step back and really think about what you want in life—not just right now, but years from now.”

YN frowned, her arms dropping to her sides. “You don’t think I’m serious?”

“I think you’re serious,” he said honestly. “And I think your feelings are valid. But feelings change, YN. And you’ve got so much time ahead of you to figure out what you really want. All I’m saying is, don’t rush into something just because it feels right now.”

She looked down at the floor, his words sinking in. As much as she hated to admit it, Yeosang had a point. She was still young, and the future felt like a vast, uncharted sea.

“I just… I don’t want to lose him,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You won’t,” Yeosang reassured her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mingi’s not going anywhere. You’ve got time, YN. Don’t let fear make you rush into a decision. Trust that the right moment will come when it’s meant to.”

She nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “Thanks, Yeosang. I… I’ll think about what you said.”

He smiled faintly, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “That’s all I ask. Now, go get some rest. You’ve caused enough chaos for one day.”

She laughed lightly, the weight on her chest lifting just a little. As she walked away, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for her brother’s honesty and support. Even if she didn’t have all the answers yet, she knew she had time—and the people who cared about her to guide her along the way.

The sound of tennis balls being hit back and forth echoed through the royal court the next morning. Yeosang and Mingi were engaged in a competitive match, their banter as sharp as their serves. Despite the casual atmosphere, Mingi could sense there was something on Yeosang’s mind.

“Nice shot,” Yeosang said as Mingi delivered a powerful forehand that he barely managed to return.

“You’re getting slow, Yeosang,” Mingi teased, smirking as he prepared for the next serve.

“Not slow,” Yeosang retorted, adjusting his stance. “Just distracted.”

Mingi raised an eyebrow but said nothing, focusing on his serve. He sent the ball flying across the court, and Yeosang returned it with surprising force. The rally continued for a while before Yeosang finally missed, and Mingi stepped forward, spinning his racket casually.

“All right,” Mingi said, tilting his head. “What’s on your mind?”

Yeosang sighed, walking to the side to grab his water bottle. “It’s YN,” he said simply.

Mingi tensed slightly but kept his expression neutral. “What about her?”

Yeosang took a sip of water, then leaned against the net, looking directly at his friend. “She told me last night that she doesn’t want to marry anyone but you.”

Mingi froze for a split second before letting out a quiet sigh. “I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “She told me the same thing yesterday.”

Yeosang raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And?”

“And… I told her that’s not how it works,” Mingi said firmly, his voice calm but resolute. “She’s still young. She doesn’t fully understand what she’s saying. It’s just… attachment. She’s known me her whole life, so she thinks I’m the answer to everything.”

Yeosang studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You’re probably right,” he said eventually, setting his bottle down. “But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s serious about how she feels.”

Mingi sighed again, sitting on the bench and resting his elbows on his knees. “I know. And that’s what worries me. I don’t want her to make decisions she might regret later. She’s a princess, Yeosang. Her life is already so complicated, and she deserves better than—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeosang interrupted, walking over to stand in front of him. “If you’re about to say she deserves better than you, don’t. Because it’s not true.”

Mingi blinked, clearly taken aback. “Yeosang, I’m just her bodyguard. You really think—”

“I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met,” Yeosang said firmly, crossing his arms. “And I think my sister deserves someone who will treat her with the care and respect you’ve shown her every single day of her life. Do I think she’s too young to be thinking about marriage? Yes. But do I think you’re a bad choice? Absolutely not.”

Mingi stared at him, stunned into silence.

Yeosang smirked, amused by his friend’s rare speechlessness. “Honestly, I expected you to freak out more when I brought this up. But it seems like you’ve already thought this through.”

“I have,” Mingi admitted quietly. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since she first mentioned it. I just… I don’t want to cross any lines. My job is to protect her, not—”

“Not fall in love with her?” Yeosang finished, his tone teasing but not unkind.

Mingi’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked away, unsure how to respond.

Yeosang chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Relax, Mingi. I’m not here to tell you to stay away from her. If anything, I’m telling you the opposite. Just… don’t rush anything. Let her grow up, figure things out for herself. If this is meant to be, it’ll happen in time.”

Mingi looked up at him, his expression softening. “You really mean that?”

“I do,” Yeosang said with a small smile. “You’re my friend, Mingi. And more importantly, you’re someone I trust. I know you’ll do what’s best for her.”

Mingi nodded, his chest feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. “Thanks, Yeosang.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Yeosang said with a smirk, grabbing his racket. “Now, let’s finish this game. I’m not letting you win just because we had a heartfelt moment.”

Mingi laughed, standing up and grabbing his racket. “We’ll see about that.”

As they returned to the court, Mingi couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of responsibility. Whatever the future held, he would make sure YN was happy—whether that meant staying by her side as her bodyguard or something more. For now, he’d take it one day at a time.

Months passed, and YN’s relentless determination, along with Yeosang’s support, slowly melted her parents’ hesitation. It wasn’t an easy road, but the Kang family eventually came to terms with the idea. The modern world was changing, and so were the rules of royalty. What mattered most was YN’s happiness, and it was clear that her bond with Mingi was unbreakable.

One crisp autumn morning, YN was called into the royal study. Her parents were there, seated at the same desk where she had once pleaded her case. Yeosang stood beside them, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“We’ve discussed it,” the king began, his tone gentle but formal. “And we’ve decided that if this is truly what you want, YN, we will support your choice.”

For a moment, she just stared at them, her mind struggling to process the words. Then, as the realization hit her, her face lit up with pure, uncontainable joy. “Really?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement.

The queen smiled softly. “Yes, really. We only want you to be happy.”

Before they could say anything else, YN bolted out of the room, her heart racing as she ran through the palace halls. She knew exactly where to find Mingi—in the training grounds, where he often started his mornings.

As she burst into the training yard, Mingi was mid-swing, sparring with another guard. He paused when he saw her, his brow furrowing in concern. “Princess? What’s wrong?”

She didn’t answer right away, instead running straight to him and grabbing his hands. Her grin was so wide it almost hurt, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. “They said yes!” she blurted out.

Mingi blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“My parents! They said yes!” she repeated, practically bouncing on her feet. “They’re okay with it—with us! You don’t have to just be my bodyguard anymore. We can actually—”

Her words were cut off as Mingi let out a soft laugh, his shoulders relaxing as relief and happiness washed over him. “They really said that?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, squeezing his hands tightly. “We don’t have to hide how we feel, or worry about traditions, or anything. They’re okay with it!”

Mingi smiled down at her, his heart swelling with emotions he could barely put into words. “I’m happy for you, YN. For us.”

She laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “You’re happy? Mingi, I’m the happiest person alive right now! I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy!”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else, Princess.”

“Of course I am,” she said playfully, sticking her tongue out at him. “Now come on, we have to celebrate! Ice cream, movies, anything you want—just name it!”

Mingi laughed again, letting her excitement wash over him. “Whatever you want, YN. Today’s your day.”

As they walked back toward the palace, YN chattering excitedly about all the plans she wanted to make, Mingi couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. He’d always been content just being her protector, her shadow. But now, as he looked at her radiant smile and heard her joyful laughter, he realized that being by her side in this new way was more than he’d ever dreamed of.

For YN, the future felt brighter than ever. And for Mingi, there was no place he’d rather be than right there beside her, no matter what came next.

Taglist: @jonghosbrainrot

[liliandjackaresoulmates]

• @lilireinhart I feel it’s important to show an honest glimpse at what last year was like for me, when dealing with my health issues. I’m so thankful for @selfmagazine and @julia_c_sullivan for giving me the space to share what I’ve been going through. Being diagnosed with interstitial cystitis while simultaneously searching for answers about a mysterious autoimmunity/inflammatory disease made 2024 the hardest year of my life. I was inspired to talk about this after my grandmother was ignored by doctors for months when exhibiting clear symptoms of cancer- and it was only after her own strength and advocation for herself that she was given a blood test that diagnosed her. And by then, the cancer had spread. The most important thing I have taken away from this experience is the absolute need to advocate for your own health. Do not let a doctor gaslight you or diminish your pain. I hope the men & women out there struggling to find answers feel even the slightest bit seen by my experience. ❤️‍🩹

[mysterylilycheeta]

ONYX STORM REVIEW:

After 2 days of catching up on all the work I had postponed for the sake of reading OS, and organising my thoughts, I'm here with my spoiler free review of Onyx Storm. Please remember that these are my personal thoughts and opinions and you're free to agree or disagree based on your views

Rating: 3.25 stars

The Good:

The absolute lack of miscommunication between Xaden and Violet: This book is a gift for all those people who were annoyed to their wit's end by the repetitive stupid fights between Xaden and Violet in Iron Flame. They trust each other, communicate with each other and don't get mad about secrets. I was so pleasantly surprised

Ridoc: Ridoc went through such amazing character development, he easily became one of my favourite characters in the story. We saw him as only the comic relief friend till now but man, he shows such badassery in this book while still being his clown self. And, let's not forget his favourite dick jokes!

The Dragons: Anyone who knows me knows my favourite part about the series is Tairn and the other dragons. Love seeing my grumpy dad dragon, he's such a mood. We also have our sassy teenager Andarna to give him grief. I love all the moments Tairn started boasting about his lineage and his feat: he's such a dork!

Dain and Cat: I never truly hated Dain because I knew from Fourth Wing itself he never intentionally wanted to harm Violet. My only gripe with him was about breaking her trust and looking through her memories without her consent. But man, does he redeem himself. Needless to say, Dain is on my "need to protect" list. I really hated Cat in Iron Flame because she was such a stereotypical cringey evil ex and the way she attacked Violet was so crass and below the belt. She still has some shitty moments in the beginning of the book but she gets a lot better so much so that I want good things to happen to her in the next books. RY did a great job writing these two

Jealous Xaden: My o my was it a treat to see Xaden so jealous. RY fed us with those entertaining af moments. Read the book and you'll find out what I mean

Aaric: I was intrigued by Aaric in book 2 but he stepped up the game so much in this book. He is an amazing character and I'll throw hands if RY even tries to harm him in any way, istg.

The Bad:

Very mediocre worldbuilding: This might be just a timing issue, but the last fantasy book I read was the Mistborn series by Brandon Sanderson, and every fantasy fan knows the kind of world-building Sanderson does. Onyx Storm tries to introduce us to new places beside the continent, but it is not well done. We spend half the book in the Isle Kingdoms, yet they're not even mentioned on the map. They talk about routes to get to the kingdoms, but how am I supposed to follow them if you won't even mention them on the maps? Every Island has a god it worships and things go according to that but I think we could've had a little more information about them beforehand instead of being presented basic info right before we arrive at the next island. "We're going to said island, this is the god they believe in, here's a five point bullet lost of their customs"- NO, THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO IT! Like I said, it might be because my last book was by Sanderson so my expectations were higher but the world felt so lacking.

Lack of Glossary: A glossary should be a must in every fantasy book, especially if you're branching out and diving deeper into worldbuilding. We are introduced to gods, islands, uprisings and groups of people we haven't even heard of before and we get hardly one or two lines about them in a chapter and then they are mentioned again 2 chapters later and we're supposed to follow. There were so many new names in OS, it was difficult to keep track of them after a while. I still don't completely understand who the Krovlan people were and what was their deal.

Lack of Basgiath: My favourite book in the series till now has been Fourth Wing and one of the biggest reasons for that was Basgiath. I loved that place and the way it felt an actual character in the story. That Basgiath charm is missing in this book. Basgiath is the biggest strength of this series, it's the reason why FW was so successful, the war college and it's deadly atmosphere, the challenges, the interpersonal relations, it was entertaining af. However as the series is progressing, it's turning into another typical romantasy involving young adults leading revolutions, making alliances, fighting wars etc. I started reading Fourth Wing because of it's setting and yet with each new book, we spend less and less time in Basgiath and it's just dampening my mood.

No real surprises: Let me be brutally honest- this book felt like a filler. Of course there are a few shocking moments with new information but it hardly hit the mark like the previous two books. There were no moments that essentially packed a punch. It's just a bunch of random sidequests to gain alliances which didn't up feeling all that meaningful because of worldbuilding problems. It also seemed like fanservice because of a lot of reasons but I won't mention them as they can be accounted as minor spoilers. Some characters died but it didn't feel impactful at all. It seemed more like Ry was just filling up the death quota because we can't have a book where no one dies

Violet and Xaden: Okay so here's the thing, I like both of them as characters and I think they make a good pair. However, I didn't ever truly feel the romance and this has been a problem since Fourth Wing. They have a shit ton of lusty moments but hardly any soft romantic domestic moments that make the relationship feel organic. I have always been disappointed by the lack of proper romantic development between these two. The problem in this book however is the dialogue- they felt so cheesy and downright cringe at times. Maybe show more and say less?? The way they keep saying nothing else matters as much and I know people are feral for how Xaden and Violet are ready to throw off the entire rebellion for each other but it irks me so much. Xaden, you are leading these people and you have accepted that responsibility. Stop endangering the lives of people you swore to protect because Violet might be in danger. She has other people to support her. Violet, don't get mad when people tell you your needs and wants will come second to Xaden's duty towards the people. He is their leader, he has to make those sacrifices, If you think that's unfair then find someone else to fill his position. You can't have the leadership position yet be each other's top priority. It might seem unfair but that is the right thing to do. I really don't feel like the two of them are fit to lead people. Agree with @thequietesthing's review about Violet's god level power feeling over dramatic and out of character at times.

The Ending: If any of you have talked to me about the book in the last few days, you'll know I'm frustrated af with the ending. It doesn't exactly feel like a well done cliffhanger, it's just plain messy. A bunch of unanswered questions to keep the reader confused and hooked for the next book but it just ruined the whole book for me. I have no issues with cliffhangers but the book should feel complete. The way Onyx Storm ended, it feels there were at least two more chapters that got deleted. It's just all over the place.

That was the review guys. I'll still wait for the next book to get published but my excitement has gone down quite a lot. I was expecting more of a Harry Potter style story where the main still occurs in the school/college itself but it seems like that isn't gonna be the case. I honestly believe this series should've been just 3 books instead of 5 but oh well, what can we say. Really agree with @justallihere and @justascrollingghost. We have almost the same complaints with the books lol P.S: The best surprise in this book: Broccoli, the kitten

[ophis-uk]

OK there's something I need all you yanks to explain to me. Everyone in this argument seems to pretty much agree that insurance companies are taking people's money and then not paying or underpaying out on some large percentage of claims, through some combination of obfuscation about the exact terms of the service they're providing, and frivolous disputation of valid claims. And they apparently know, when they take the customer's money, that they're going to put obstacles in the way of claims, because they can't afford to just pay out on every valid claim without putting up a fight. I don't understand how this isn't just fraud. This whole model really seems like a crime. I don't mean this rhetorically, I'm not making some point about the evil corrupt American health insurance companies, I'm genuinely a bit confused about why that CEO who got shot hadn't been either jailed or sued into oblivion. If you advertise a service for a particular price, and you know the price isn't enough to cover the cost of the service, so you're planning to try to welch on the deal, that's fraud, right? Right? What am I not understanding here? Is there some weird carve out in the fraud laws for insurance companies or something? Why is everybody arguing about how profitable the fraud is, or how the fraud pie gets sliced, as if the profitability of the fraud is somehow the relevant issue? What's going on?

look I know it's not popular to mention this around here but healthcare in America is not expensive bc of your insurance company. UHC only ran at a net profit margin of 6% in 2023. this is like. nothing.

healthcare is expensive bc we undersupply doctors to appease the AMA cartel and we let our elderly try every possible life extension intervention under the sun for cheap. killing a CEO does absolutely nothing about this.

[pixiemage]

My Fate Is In Your Hands - Entry 9

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[A/N: This is a story entirely guided by you guys, by the readers. Be sure to vote at the end of each entry! ALSO, if you'd like to be added the tag list, please let me know and I'll be sure to add you next time!]

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➤ Stay. The stranger seems friendly, and Tango could use a friend right now.

Tango never does stand up from the bed, though he’d sat up with that in mind. He slouches and sinks slightly into the mattress, taking another dry breath and clutching at the edge of the bed beneath his fingers. His toes curl against the rug inside their HASA-issued socks, and he just breathes.

The stranger seemed kind enough before. It would be worth asking for his help to find the remains of Tango’s ship. And beyond that, after how long he’d been stuck up on that deadly rock in the sky, Tango can’t deny he’s craving some friendly company right now.

There are footsteps outside and the door opens again before Tango can fully register them, though his reaction is far less extreme than it had been the first time. He flinches slightly and his focus snaps to the door, where the blond stranger from before is peeking cautiously into the room at him. The man smiles awkwardly and, when Tango manages a tight smile in return, he finally opens the door fully and crosses the threshold.

He isn’t human. Not that Tango isn’t used to inhuman players - pot, kettle - but the massive golden-feathered wings at the stranger’s back catch his attention straight away. They hadn’t been visible from behind the door. They’re the color of sunshine and larger than those of the avians Tango is used to. He must have been staring too long, because the stranger’s wings ruffle and he chuckles, drawing Tango’s eyes back to his face.

“Hope you don’t have a thing against avians,” the guy says brightly, a tad sheepishly, as he approaches the bed and carefully sets the pitcher of water he’d been carrying on the cluttered sidetable. He holds an already-filled glass out to Tango, who takes it with shaking hands. Tango brings it to his lips without hesitation, the blessed feeling of cool water down his throat a voiddamn relief after the sandpaper sensation he’d been dealing with until now.

It’s only afterward that he thinks he probably should have checked to see if it was poisoned or something…but frankly, if the guy had wanted him dead, he would’ve done it long before now.

“Nah, nothin’ against avians,” Tango denies with a quirked smile, his speech not nearly as taxing as it had been before. “I’ve got a couple o’ bird-brained friends back on–” His breath catches and his smile wavers, and against his better judgment he clears his hoarse throat.

Back on a planet that no longer exists. Tango swallows thickly and brings the glass to his lips again, avoiding the stanger’s curious eyes.

“Back home?” the guy guesses, his voice sounding warm and intrigued alongside the dull dispondance churning in Tango’s chest. Tango’s heart squeezes, and he hums noncommittally. He doesn’t need to talk about it with a complete stranger, no matter how kind. Not right now.

Tango takes another slow sip and avoids the guy’s gaze, feeling the bubble of awkwardness build in the silence. Until his host decides to pop it.

“Er - I’m Jimmy, by the way,” he says, just as brightly as everything else he’s said so far. “Sheriff of Tumble Town.”

He holds out a hand to shake, and Tango squints at him, one of his ears flicking. Sheriff, huh? The guy certainly looks the part, with his cowboy boots and large-buckled belt and the trademark brown leather vest. The gold star-shaped badge on his chest glints slightly in the morning light. Tango hesitates before offering his own hand to shake in return. The Sheriff’s hand is slightly calloused, like he’s a man used to manual labor, but not so dry that he spends most of his time that way. Interesting.

“Uh - Tango,” he mutters. “Of the Tek variety.” Something alights behind the guy’s - Jimmy’s - eyes, something like recognition or intrigue, but it’s stifled almost as quickly as it comes. Tango does his best to turn the analytical part of his brain elsewhere. There’s no reason to be so suspicious of his host…yet. He withdraws his hand and fiddles with the water glass he’s still holding. “...Tumble Town?” he asks instead.

Jimmy’s expression brightens tenfold and he smacks his own forehead lightly.

“Right! O’ course! You’re not from around here, you wouldn’t know–” He chuckles sheepishly and his wings puff up slightly, rustling at his back. The feathers around his ears (have those always been there?) flare, and he grins. “You’re in Tumble Town right now. ‘S my Empire! Town. My town.” He rocks back on his heels and steps back from the bed a bit, casting a glance out the nearby window. Tango’s eyes flick in the same direction, curious. “We’re in the mesa right now,” Jimmy carries on. “S’ppose that’s a good place for a netherborn, eh?”

Tango knows he really doesn’t feel up to standing right now. Despite his earlier temptation to just flee the scene and find his ship, he probably wouldn’t have made it far in his current state, not without help. But he’s curious. Sue him. He sets the half-empty glass of water on the table beside the bed and he eases himself to his feet, wincing at the way his left ankle protests having weight put on it. The Sheriff looks concerned. Tango, to his credit, does fairly well for the first few steps.

It’s the fifth one that does him in.

His ankle buckles just enough to send him off kilter, and it’s only thanks to the Sheriff that he doesn’t go down completely. Jimmy’s quick, catching him by the elbows with a startled chirp and letting Tango cling to his arms in a desperate attempt to keep himself upright.

“Oh my gosh–” Jimmy’s wings have flared out for balance and he tugs Tango toward him, looping one of Tango’s arms over his shoulders to better support his weight. “Geez buddy, you alright?”

“Ngh–” Tango lets out a pained, wheezing little sound of frustration in response, his hand shaking slightly where he’s clutching the Sheriff’s shoulder. His ankle is throbbing now where it hadn’t been before, agitated from his stupid attempt at mobility before he was ready. Idiot.

“Mate…?”

“Fine,” Tango grumbles, his ears pressed back against his hair. He holds his left foot gingerly just above the ground, splitting his balance between his host and his uninjured leg. Void. Okay. Don’t do that again. Noted. His tail darts out behind him to help keep him stable.

“I wanna see outside,” he says, his voice slightly raspy, and Jimmy makes a quiet sound that Tango can’t identify.

“You sure you don’t wanna sit down–?”

“In a minute,” Tango huffs. He doesn’t know where he is, hasn’t seen anything beyond this room since his ship crashed. He needs to know. Needs to get his bearings in a foreign world. A smokey wheeze whisps from the back of his throat. “Please. Just - wanna see.”

The Sheriff seems to think about his request for a moment, but eventually he seems to acquiesce, sighing softly as he folds his golden wings neatly against his back. He takes it slow, helping Tango to the window and keeping him upright all the while.

Jimmy wasn’t lying. The sight outside the window is as sandy as Tango expected it to be, the world seeped in a dusty red-brown that screams mesa more than anything else could. They’re enclosed in a bowl of red rocky cliffs, wooden structures built into the walls of the canyon and scattered across the flat ground at the bottom of the basin, buildings pulled straight out of an old western movie. There’s a barn in the distance, and pens for animals, and fenced-in crop gardens - and a tunnel, a tunnel cut right through the cliff wall with a train track leading off to who-know-where. Out of town, Tango supposes, though he doesn’t know for sure.

Tango lets out a breath, taking it all in. Suddenly Jimmy being a Sheriff feels extremely fitting for the place he’s found himself in.

“Glad I crashed here,” he finds himself saying, the smallest hint of amusement and gratitude lacing his words. “I don’t wanna know what woulda happened if I’d gone down in an icy tundra or something. Me an’ cold don’t exactly get along.”

Something about that sentence tickles his brain the wrong way, like he has been on friendly terms with the cold before. A mental image dances across his mind of freezing caves and an icy castle, blue soul flames dancing out of the corner of his eye - but it’s gone between one blink and the next.

“I can’t imagine why,” Jimmy says lightly, jokingly. It’s an awkward thing, like he’s trying to test the waters. His wings shuffle and fidget at his back, tickling Tango’s arm. He coughs. “Er - right! Well. Let’s get you off your feet, eh? I think I’ve still got a healing potion ‘round here if you want one. We only did topical stuff last night. Didn’t exactly wanna go force-feeding you potions when you weren’t even awake, did we?”

Tango blinks, turning his attention to his host.

“We?”

“Me an’ Shelby!” Jimmy says, brighter this time. He’s already easing Tango back toward the bed as he talks. “She’s our local witch. She’s great with potions, as long as she’s not in a creative mood. Gettin’ better at it though! I called ‘er over last night when you fell out of the sky. I didn’t have anything left to help you, mind, so I’m just glad she was still awake.”

Tango settles back on the edge of the bed with a relieved sigh as Jimmy starts clinking through the bottles cluttering the bedside table, eyeing their colors in the light from the window. He hands a rich red one over to him with a smile, looking a little victorious at his discovery.

(Tango’s not dumb enough to blindly drink whatever some random stranger has given him in an unlabelled bottle, but it sure smells like spiced melons when he pulls out the stopper. It’s familiar enough for him to sip at it cautiously, and when the familiar taste of a healing potion touches his tongue, the relief he gets from it is palpable. His ankle is already starting to hurt a little bit less when he finally caves and starts to down the potion properly.)

“I’ll fix up some food for you, if ya like,” Jimmy is saying now, and Tango is so fuzzed by the warm comfort of the potion’s healing properties that he only now notices that his host is already at the door to leave. “D’you like eggs an’ bacon? It shouldn’t take long to make, if that sounds alright.”

Tango’s nodding before he can really stop himself - but then he pauses.

He’s going to be left alone in this room again. It isn’t that big of a deal - he knows he needs the rest - but he’s feeling antsy. He’s feeling claustrophobic, the window doing little to help with that. He wants to get out, even if it’s just for a little while.

A part of him is itching to get back to his ship. The food Jimmy is offering is so tempting - he hasn’t eaten real food since his ship left Hermitcraft for its lunar mission - but he’s starting to get impatient. He doesn’t know if his friends - his family - are even–

He needs to know. Needs to find a way to contact them. His ship might be in ruins, but it might not…and the Schrödinger status of his spacecraft is making his brain itch. Alone he wouldn’t have been able to make the trip, but with Jimmy’s help he could.

Food does sound good though, and if Tango wanted to leave the room and eat downstairs instead of in bed, surely Jimmy wouldn’t mind…

Tango sets the empty potion bottle aside just as Jimmy opens the door to leave. He clears his throat, his hair sparking, and he opens his mouth to speak.

[A/N: I've officially moved into my new place and gotten through the holidays! My writer brain is FINALLY working again, which I'm very excited for! Sorry for the long wait, but welcome back to the adventure! Tango's going through it a bit, isn't he? Poor guy. Don't worry, Jimmy's here for him, even if he's a "stranger" right now.]

[Tag List] @firefly124 @mellioops @beaversuenightly @aris-has-a-paracosm @sincerely-nines @changeling-ash @therain-lover @nilethecat @technicality-the-nonexistant @bbt-yjtt @sparklesif @aeonicho @thedruidqueen89

Let me know if you'd like to be added!

[veephoenix]

zutto — chapter fifteen | wc: 3.9k | series masterpost | prev. chapter

Chapter summary: Noah-Chan and Lia say goodbye to Hana and travel back to L.A. 

Reading time: 12mins.

Tags and trigger warnings:  mostly fluff, slight angst, mentions of medication.

General trigger warnings: this work addresses and depicts issues related to addiction, abuse, & violence, contains explicit sexual content, and explores themes of childhood trauma. Reader discretion is advised. +18

Emi was ironing clothes in the laundry room when Noah walked in. She greeted him with a polite smile and a nod, which he returned as he moved toward the pile of clean, folded laundry on the counter. Just as his hands reached the pile, Emi’s voice rose, startling him. Her words were a flurry of Japanese. Noah turned, eyebrows raised, to see Emi standing right beside him, gesturing to the laundry with quick, determined motions.

“It’s fine. I’m just taking these upstairs,” he said, picking up the clothes. “Lia and I are packing.”

Emi responded with an insistent stream of Japanese, her hands darting forward to grab the clothes. Noah took a step back, shaking his head.

“No, no. I’ve got this. It’s okay,” he said. “I can handle it.”

Emi didn’t back down. She pointed to the laundry, then back at herself, repeating a single word he couldn’t understand. Her face was set with a look of absolute conviction, as if allowing him to carry the clothes upstairs was a personal failure.

“Emi,” Noah said, switching to a slower, exaggerated tone in the hope she might catch the gist of it. “These. Clothes. Upstairs. Me. Okay?”

Still, Emi’s hands darted toward the pile, and her rapid Japanese grew more animated.

Noah sighed, his patience slipping. “Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but this isn’t necessary. I’m an adult. I can carry my own laundry. Thank you, but no.” He gave her a pointed look, stepping toward the door with the clothes in his arms.

Emi followed him, still speaking quickly. At the foot of the stairs, she blocked his path with a look of utter dismay, as though his refusal to hand over the laundry was an unforgivable act.

“No,” Noah said, leaning forward slightly for emphasis. “It’s. Fine. I don’t need help. Please.” He gestured toward the stairs. “Let me take these up. It’s not a big deal.”

Her expression didn’t shift. For a second, he thought she might physically try to stop him, but when he started up the stairs, she didn’t follow. Her voice, though, continued behind him—a worried string of Japanese he didn’t have the energy to decipher.

By the time he reached the bedroom, Noah let out an exasperated sigh. The cluttered room was a chaotic mix of piles of clothes, shoes, shopping bags, and books. Lia lay sprawled on the bed, her phone balanced above her face.

“You know,” Noah started, dumping the clothes onto a free chair, “we should really start learning some Japanese. Emi’s not picking up English anytime soon, and I’m pretty sure I just told her off in the most awkward way possible.” 

When Lia just hummed in response, he looked pointedly at her. “Weren’t you supposed to be packing?”

Lia whined dramatically, the sound muffled as her phone wobbled precariously in her hands.

“You’re going to drop that on your face,” Noah warned.

“Already happened before you walked in,” she muttered, lowering the phone just enough to smirk at him.

Noah shook his head and walked over to the bed. Without warning, he grabbed her ankle and tugged her toward the edge of the futon. She squealed in protest, but the sound quickly dissolved into laughter as he held her foot up, rolling her leggings to her calf. He pressed a kiss to her ankle. “We need to start packing, or we’re going to be late.”

Lia stretched across the bed like a cat, her arms reaching lazily above her head. “I really don’t want to pack,” she groaned, tilting her head to peek at him.

“You don’t say,” Noah replied dryly, lowering her leg. “Judging by this mess, I couldn’t tell.”

Lia flopped back down, her phone sliding off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. She didn’t even flinch. “It’s just so much work. Can’t we just…stay here forever? Forget the world and live a life of leisure with Emi waiting on us hand and foot?”

Noah snorted. “Pretty sure Emi would quit if she had to deal with us for more than a month.”

“She wouldn’t quit,” Lia argued, rolling onto her stomach and propping her chin on her hands. “She loves us. Deep down, she’s obsessed with the way you command her to do nothing.”

“Ha! She’s obsessed with making sure I don’t do anything myself,” Noah countered, shooting her a look. “Like carry our own laundry upstairs.”

“You’re just mad she won’t let you feel like a functioning adult.”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered, crouching down to gather the scattered shoes around the bed. He tossed a pair of his sneakers into an open bag. “Did you see how she acted when I tried to make us coffee? Like I was committing a federal crime.”

Lia continued to lounge on the bed, her smile smug as Noah sighed and moved back to stand over her. When she showed no sign of moving, he leaned down and tickled her sides. Lia let out a shriek of laughter, twisting and wriggling under his hands, but instead of getting up, she burrowed further among the pillows, looking even more adorable and impossibly cozy.

Noah narrowed his eyes at her, fighting the temptation to give in, lie down beside her, and smother her with kisses. She had that way of making laziness look utterly inviting, but he shook his head firmly.

“Alright,” he said with exaggerated finality, straightening up. “If you’re not going to do it, then I will.”

Before Lia could respond, he marched to her suitcase, the one she’d barely touched since they started packing, and flipped it open. Lia froze, her eyes widening slightly as Noah shot her a smirk and reached into the jumbled mess of clothes inside.

Her reaction was instantaneous. She scrambled off the futon in a rush, darting toward him and planting herself squarely between him and the suitcase. Her arms stretched protectively over the open lid.

“I can do mine myself,” she blurted, her voice hurried but firm.

Noah arched an eyebrow, his hand still hovering above her clothes. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Lia insisted, her voice rising a touch. “You don’t need to do my packing. Thank you very much.”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as his expression shifted to one of amused suspicion. “Uh-huh. Why do I feel like there’s something you don’t want me to see?”

“There’s nothing.” Lia said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed, his smirk widening. “Oh, really? You got awfully fast all of a sudden. And protective. Over a suitcase.”

“It’s my suitcase,” she said, her tone defensive as she adjusted her stance, blocking him entirely. “I should be the one to pack it.”

“Okay, then.” He took a deliberate step to the side, and Lia shifted with him, keeping herself between him and the suitcase like a goalie. Noah tilted his head, his grin practically daring. “But if you’re not hiding anything, then there’s no reason for me not to help, right?”

“Don’t you have your own packing to do?” Lia countered, her voice suddenly sweet.

“If you use that voice, I might end up busying myself with something else other than packing.” 

“Oh, yeah?” If that was a distraction, she would use it to her advantage. “And what is that something else?" 

Noah’s smile grew bigger as he lifted a hand and tucked one of Lia’s hairs behind her ear in such a slow way that something in her stomach started fluttering.  

“You know what that is...” His lips captured hers in a slow, full kiss. 

Lia melted, a hand going to grasp his t-shirt for support. She let her head fall back as he kissed her deeply, his hand caressing the back of her neck. When he pulled away, staying close to her, his breath mingling with hers, Lia remained in the same position with her eyes closed. Noah laughed sweetly at her expression. 

“If you keep kissing me like that out of nowhere,” she said, “I’ll turn into a puddle very soon.” She opened her eyes slowly, her lips still tingling from his kiss. “Doesn’t your neck hurt from having to bend down all the time just to kiss me?” 

Noah chuckled, brushing his thumb across her jawline. “No, it doesn’t.” He paused. “But if it ever does, I can always pick you up and set you somewhere higher. Problem solved.” 

Lia raised an eyebrow. A moment later, he pushed aside a bunch of clothes that were on the desk and hooked an arm around her waist. He lifted her effortlessly off the ground and set her down on the desk. She looked at him with both eyebrows raised, deadpan, ready to snort. 

“It’s the exact same height as me standing on the floor.” 

After two seconds of silence, they both laughed. Noah didn’t waste another second to get between her knees and placing his lips back on hers, stealing any witty comeback she might’ve had. 

The kiss was slower this time, his hand sliding up to cradle her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin as though memorizing its softness. He kissed her deeply, his mouth finding hers in a rhythm that made her head spin. A soft hum of approval escaped her lips, and he responded by tilting his head, capturing her lower lip with his, then trailing gentle kisses along her cheek. 

“I love your hair,” she murmured, threading her fingers through it as his lips touched her jaw. 

One of his hands was making its way under her thigh when they heard light footsteps approaching.

Noah pulled away just in time to avoid being caught in a compromising situation as Hana appeared at the doorway, soft wrinkled smile on her face and one of Noah’s hoodies folded neatly in her hands.

“It’s dry. You can pack it now,” she said. The hoodie had been drying outside after a sudden downpour had caught him off guard during his last morning run. 

Noah thanked her, taking the sweatshirt and placing it in his open suitcase on the floor. Lia was still at the desk, her hands gripping the edge as she swung her legs like a little girl pretending to be well-behaved.

Noah became absorbed in reorganizing his luggage, making space for the pile of belongings he had yet to pack, and failed to notice Hana looking around the room—the one that had, over the last few weeks, become her grandchildren’s room—with a wistful smile.

When Noah registered the silence, still crouched by his suitcase, he tilted his head and noticed his grandmother. His heart shrank. 

They spent their last evening with Hana in the cozy warmth of her living room, sipping on tea, flipping through old photo albums, and sharing both laughter and heartfelt anecdotes. 

Lia sat cross-legged on a cushion on the floor, dressed in comfy white joggers, thick socks, and an oversized sweater that hung loosely off one shoulder. Her mug of kukicha tea rested beside her, untouched as her fingers danced across the pages of an album filled with memories. She was eyeing a photo of her and Noah as teenagers, caught mid-laugh during a summer afternoon in the back garden of his grandparents. She was sure the photo had been taken by Nick with Noah’s Grandpa’s camera.

Hana wore a serene smile as she watched Lia flip through the album, adoring how her practically-adopted granddaughter had that pink hue tinting her cheeks again, the same one she’d had as a child. 

Months ago, Lia wouldn’t have recognized the girl in the photos; the one with a carefree smile that radiated happiness as she made unconscious efforts to shut off the pain and hopelessness of home. A year ago she’d felt so far removed from that version of herself, buried under the weight of her own doubts and insecurities, that she had momentarily forgotten the joy she had felt growing up practically under Noah’s grandparents’ roof. 

Now, she saw it clearly—the girl in the picture. She was who she had always been meant to be: she was happy, she was free. And she was full of life.

She’d gotten lost along the way, yes. Growing up hadn’t been easy, and there had been times when she thought she might never find her way back. But this trip to Japan had proven something important: she was still that girl. And now, with Noah by her side, she felt more certain than ever that she could become the woman she was meant to be.

This trip had been their best yet, though maybe that had something to do with what Noah had teasingly said earlier about her taking so long to finally “get in his bed” and always choosing the guest room on previous visits. She’d smacked his chest playfully when he said it in front of Hana, earning an eyeroll from his grandmother, who muttered something about “children” under her breath.

An hour later, as the albums were set aside and their mugs emptied, Lia remembered something. She stood, reaching into the pocket of her joggers, and retrieved the red string she’d kept there an hour ago. 

Crossing the room, she knelt in front of Hana and offered her the open palm of his hand, handing her the delicate thread. 

“I’d like you to keep it, to take care of it as you have done until now,” she said. “I don’t want to risk losing it and have something... bad happen.” 

Hana’s face softened as she took the string in her hands, her eyes glistening with affection. “Dear,” she said, her voice soft, “nothing bad is going to happen.” She paused, holding the string delicately between her fingers. “But I’ll keep it nonetheless, safe in the box where it’s been all these years.”

Hana rose slowly, sending a smile towards Noah, her joints cracking as she got to her feet. Noah moved to help her, but she waved him off, shuffling toward the shelf where the small wooden box had rested for years. With care, she opened it and placed the red string inside.

As she returned to her seat, Noah spoke up. “Why don’t you come back to the States with Lia and I? Just for a while. You could stay with us.”

His words surprised both Lia and Hana with their spontaneity. Lia glanced at Noah, her brow furrowing slightly. “With us” wasn’t entirely clear—they still hadn’t figured out what their living arrangements would look like when they returned. Lia had her apartment, Noah his house with the guys, and both had workspaces they couldn’t part with. But one thing was certain: neither of them could imagine spending nights apart anymore, not after all the time they’d already lost.

Hana’s hands rested on her teacup. “Oh, darling. I’m too old for such long travels. There’s nothing quite like the comfort of my own home.”

“We miss you,” Lia said earnestly, moving to sit on Noah’s knee and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“It’d be so nice to have you around for a while,” Noah added. “Not just seeing you once or twice a year here in Tokyo.”

Hana looked at them both, her heart swelling at the sight of their hopeful eyes and the deep bond they shared, the way Noah held her with a delicate arm around her waist. She could see the love—not just for each other but for her, too. She reached out and touched Noah’s cheek tenderly.

“I’ll think about it, Noah-Chan,” she replied with a warm smile.

It wasn’t a promise, but it was enough. And though none of them could know it yet, her words would come true sooner than they expected—when she would travel to the States for a very hoped-for wedding.

The next morning, they said goodbye to Hana. Lia promised not to cry in order to make things easier for Hana, but as soon as she broke away their long hug and turned around to get into the cab that was waiting for her and Noah, tears rolled down her cheeks. 

Hana didn’t cry, even as she watched them leave. She knew she would see them again sooner or later and despite her age. However, what encouraged her to stay strong was the knowledge that Noah and Lia had finally found each other, and she wanted to be there to witness their love bloom.

When she entered the house, she found herself alone. There were no boots or sneakers in the entryway, no voices coming from the kitchen to indicate that Lia was trying to learn some Japanese recipe, no tunes running down the stairs because Noah was trying to beat out a new song he’d written. The laughter that used to fill the walls had also faded, along with those moments of silence that Hana recognized so well: the ones that meant Noah had locked himself and Lia in the living room, holding her in his arms and kissing her. The aroma of the coffee they’d had an hour ago still hung in the air, but there was no trace of that ordinariness and those lively moments: Noah’s voice giving orders to someone over the phone, and Lia walking by her and muttering, “He’s so bossy,” followed by Noah’s shout from the other room, “I heard you!”

Hana found herself smiling at what were now memories. 

“There will be more,” she thought. There would be. “I’ll hold out so I can make new memories with them.”

Once at the airport, with their luggage already checked in and only their backpacks to manage, Noah and Lia passed the time until the boarding gate opened, sitting in the uncomfortable waiting chairs.

Noah was engrossed in a book on psychology, while Lia took in the bustling scenery around them. With her AirPods in, she amused herself by watching people moving about the airport, killing time in their own ways. Her gaze eventually fell on an older man sitting in a row of chairs a little farther away, facing her. She watched as he took two pills, presumably for some health-related condition, given his age.

Instead of unease, Lia felt a wave of relief. Ever since Noah had pointed out that she hadn’t taken her medication in several days and that it might be a good thing for her condition, she had stayed off them—over a week now. Seeing someone else medicate didn’t stir fear within her, as she’d anticipated. Instead, it made her proud of her progress. She almost smiled to herself.

Her gaze shifted to Noah. He was completely absorbed in his book, slouched in the chair with his hoodie up.

“I’m going for a walk,” Lia announced, pulling out her AirPods. “Want me to get you anything to eat?”

“No, I’m good,” Noah replied.

Lia nodded and stood, wandering off without straying too far from their gate. The airport was brimming with shops, tempting travelers with souvenirs, snacks, and trinkets. Despite knowing better, she gave in to the lure of distraction and entered a big shop filled with souvenirs, travel essentials, and kitschy charms.

As she browsed the shelves, her eyes landed on something adorable: a plushie bunny holding a miniature katana. Its round, fluffy body was adorned with a tiny warrior’s headband, and its expression somehow managed to look both cute and fierce. Lia picked it up. She turned it over in her hands, feeling the softness of the plush fur and admiring the absurdly cute katana. 

“Noah’s going to love this.”

She brought it to the register and paid for it. Clutching the bag with her newly purchased treasure, she hurried back to Noah.

When she reached him, she stood in front of his chair. “I’ve got something for you, and it’s not a snack bar, I promise.”

Noah looked up, closing his book and giving her his full attention. A big smile spread across his face as he saw the glimmer in her eyes. “What is it?”

With a dramatic flourish, Lia pulled the plushie bunny out of the bag and held it up. “Ta-da!”

Noah examined the stuffed animal for a few seconds before his smile widened even more. He took it in his hands, which seemed almost comically large compared to the tiny plushie, and studied it closely, finding it nearly as adorable as Lia herself. “It’s freaking cute,” he exclaimed.

Lia felt a wave of satisfaction at his reaction. When Noah looked up at her to thank her, he grasped and tugged at her wrist, encouraging her to lean closer. As soon as she did, he kissed her with gratitude.

Two hours later, their flight to Los Angeles was well underway. Lia sat by the window, gazing out occasionally at the endless expanse of clouds, while Noah occupied the aisle seat, preferring the extra space to stretch his long legs. The little tray table in front of Lia was folded down, and she held a pencil between her fingers, her gaze fixed on her open notebook. She had been flipping through its used pages for the past five minutes.

“What are you thinking about?” Noah asked in a low voice, sensing the whirlwind of ideas running through her mind.

“Something you mentioned one day in my apartment,” she replied, still staring at the notebook.

Noah furrowed his brow, trying to recall, but he’d said so many things in so many different moments. He squinted one eye, miming intense concentration, which made Lia chuckle.

“You said I should make a book,” she reminded him.

Noah’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“I think it might actually be a good idea,” she continued hesitantly. “I could put some of my work together in one collection. My drawings could tell a story, or at least form a concept. I could group them somehow... I’m not sure it would work, but...”

“Of course it would work,” Noah interrupted.

Lia looked up at him, uncertainty clouding her big brown eyes, a faint wrinkle forming between her brows. Noah had always believed in her, and he wasn’t about to stop now.

“And I’d be the first one to buy a copy,” he added.

She rolled her eyes and lightly patted his chest with the back of her hand. “You’d get a free one, silly.”

They both laughed, the tension easing between them.

“I’m serious,” he said, his tone softening but still earnest. “It makes me happy to hear you considering it. It’s about time, Lia.”

“Thank you,” she said thoughtfully.  “For pushing me to do things I’m not sure of... Things I’d never do on my own.”

Noah didn’t need her thanks. She was his girl; his responsibility. Since forever. He would always strive to be the best version of himself for her, to help her become the best version of herself.

He reached out and affectionately pinched her cheek with two fingers, earning a playful scrunch of her nose in response. A moment later, Noah bent down to retrieve his backpack from under the seat in front of him and pulled something out. 

“Shrimp chips?” he offered.

The hours in the air drifted by as Noah’s pen scribbled lines that might one day become lyrics for a new album while Lia sketched quietly beside him, humming to herself every once in a while. Eventually, after eating the not-so-delicious food provided by the airline, they both fell asleep, Lia’s head resting on his shoulder, two blankets —courtesy of the airline—draped over them. 

When they woke, the sunlight streaming through the window revealed the sprawling landscape of California. 

— prev. chapter | chapter sixteen

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