#library/bookstore au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

saintobio · 9 months ago

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RIDE OR DIE .ᐟ

in a world where horsepower meets heartstrings, and bookstore meet-cutes lead to motorcycle mishaps, you soon realize that opposites do attract in ways that blur the line between fiction and reality.

▞▞ PAIRINGS. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ GENRE. fluff, smut, established relationship, biker boy x book girl au, 18+

▞▞ TAGS. biker!kuna, backpack!reader, profanity, reckless driving, mentions of violence (not to reader), bruises, police, fellatio, cunnilingus, protected, explicit smut, sukuna being a cute bf

▞▞ NOTES. 8.3k word count. my biker!kuna fics are unstoppable atp 😮‍💨 and as an irl writer gf to a biker bf, this is a very self-indulgent fic. got lazy with the smut so i copied bits from my other gojo oneshot. reblogs are highly appreciated <3

▞▞ INSPOS. my fav biker boys on biketok: that10r, dylan.r.one, raven.coop, onyx_r7, senor_torque, blacchornets, aushendrivessafe, tiiidddooo, bongo & takaro 🖤🏍️💨

After dating you for six months, Sukuna realized that nothing in the world could capture your attention like your cherished collection of fictional books—except, of course, him. But before he entered the picture, you were always immersed in solitary bliss at the cafe or library, lost in the intricate worlds of your latest literary fascination to the point where it was almost impossible to pull you out of it.

Yet, it became an unspoken understanding between you both; he respected your need for uninterrupted reading time, allowing you to lose yourself in stories populated by your favorite characters, while in return, you supported his desire for a thrilling experience of riding his bike despite the inherent risks that came with it.

He vividly remembered the first time he saw you while riding his bike through the city. You were crossing the street then, carrying a bag of books you had just bought from Barnes & Noble, and the sight of you in a cute sundress had him completely distracted from the road. So in an attempt to catch your attention, he revved his bike to ‘flex’. But in his effort to impress, he missed the red light and had to brake abruptly, causing him to lose control and drop his bike to the ground.

That was the very first time he had ever dropped his precious R1 after a year of riding it. If it had been his old R7, he wouldn’t have cared as much, but his R1—his expensive, still-on-the-loan, matte black, fully customized R1—hit the pavement along with him. For bikers, these kinds of things hurt.

Now, talk about embarrassing. You even stopped to look at him in concern that day and if only you could see his blushing face behind his helmet. But at least, looking back at your meet-cute, he could tell you that he did, in fact, fall for you. Literally.

And there can’t be anything truer than that.

“Aww, she’s cute,” Choso remarked, gesturing his chin towards you with a teasing grin as they dismounted their bikes at the parking lot. You were there sitting in a cafe with a book on your lap, unaware that you were being conversed about by these two men right outside.

Sukuna jabbed him on the side and motioned for him to stop staring. “Fuck off. She’s mine.”

As Choso lifted his helmet, a group of girls outside the cafe couldn’t help but swoon over the two bikers, whispering and commenting on how hot and attractive they looked. And being the fucker that he was, completely absorbed in the attention from the girls, Choso had momentarily forgotten about Sukuna as he swaggered towards them with a confident smirk, glancing back at his friend and playfully raising his eyebrows.

“You go ahead. I’ll go check out the scenery,” Choso said in his usual mischief, “Unless you want to join me?”

Sukuna, still sporting his helmet, smugly showed him a picture of you as his phone’s home screen. “Sorry, already got my hands full with my princess.”

“Whatever. Tell Y/N I said hi,” Choso replied with a chuckle, before turning his attention back to the admiring group of girls.

You sat in your customary corner of the cafe, near the window, with a barely touched cup of coffee before you. Your attention was still and all riveted to the pages of your current book, remaining oblivious to the world around you as it looked like you were just getting to the good part of the storyline. Sukuna decided it would be a charming surprise to approach you as he entered the cafe, his arrival catching the eye of another group of girls who noticed him immediately, but he ignored their glances when he made his way towards your small area.

In his usual black leather jacket, Sukuna pulled a chair backward and straddled it, casually resting his arms on the backrest. With both legs on either side, he settled in, observing you intently behind his black helmet. A faint smirk played on his lips as he quietly watched you absorbed in your reading, and for now, he said nothing and enjoyed the moment silently.

He gave it a minute or so for you to realize.

5… 4… 3… 2… “L-Lovey?” By the time you finally noticed his presence, you saw your widened eyes at his reflective visor when you looked up at him.

“Hey, baby girl.” Sukuna pushed the button to lift his visor, revealing his narrow eyes that were locked onto yours. He had that boyish grin sitting handsomely on his lips.

As for you, you looked like you were blushing. That, or perhaps there was some sort of fluttering happening inside your heart at the unexpected sight of him. It was probably taking you a moment to separate fiction from reality, because not long ago, you were too fixated on the fictional boy written on the pages of your book. Now, your very real and actual boyfriend was here. For you. “Um… How long have you been there?”

“Not that long,” he assured in his usual low, velvet voice. “I just arrived, actually. Didn’t wanna disturb my baby.”

Your curious eyes fell on the red tribal decals on his black Nexx SX100r helmet, reminding you of the same face tattoo designs he had mentioned wanting to get, but you were refusing to let him have. “New helmet?”

Sukuna nodded, smirking as he tapped the headgear with his gloved hand. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I do,” you replied, smiling. “It’s very you.”

“Thanks, baby.”

You glanced at his sleek black Yamaha R1 outside the window and immediately closed your chosen book for the day. “Okay, well…” You met his gaze again. “I have backpack duties today, don’t I?”

He was quick to dismiss it. “No, no. You can finish reading. I don’t mind just sittin’ here and watching you for a while.”

But, being the stubborn girl you were, you were already packing your book into your bag. You didn’t even listen to a word he said. “Did you bring my helmet?”

“‘Course, princess. Your helmet’s right there strapped onto the backseat.” Your boyfriend leaned in closer and pointed to his sportbike. Just as he took your bag from you, his eyes lingered on your lips for a moment. “So, you’re gonna be my pretty little backpack today?”

You mustn’t have realized it, but the two of you had become the subject of envious stares in the cafe. Most of the girls who looked your way were clearly jealous. Yet your cute, clueless self didn’t even seem to notice as you clung to his arm. “Yes, lovey. I miss being your backpack.”

Did you know? Sukuna always melted from your enthusiasm. And he couldn’t even resist pinching your cheeks. “Alright, then.” His hand moved to squeeze your nose. “I'll be your personal chauffeur, and you’ll be my cute little backpack who’s clinging tightly to me the whole time. Sounds good?”

“Yessir,” you answered with a playful salute.

“Good girl.” He then took your hand in his, leading you out of the cafe and onto the parking lot when he all of a sudden felt a tug on his arm.

You had a visible pout displayed. “Lovey, wait!”

“What is it, baby?” The question came out of him softly, tilting his head when he looked at you.

“My kiss,” you said sweetly, making Sukuna feel like Cupid shot an arrow to his heart. “You forgot.”

How can one person be so unbelievably adorable? Just how? How on Earth did he land the cutest girl on the planet? The cuteness aggression was certainly urging him to fall on his knees right now. With the weakness he tried to restrain inside, he was trying his hardest to laugh it off on the outside. “Oh damn, you’re right.” He pulled his helmet up, leaning in forward to place a warm, tender kiss on your soft lips. He could hear the hearts of the surrounding girls breaking at the sight. “Can’t believe I forgot to give my baby the most important item of the day.”

Satisfied with the kiss, you followed your tattooed boyfriend like a shadow to meet his bike, ‘Fury’, as he affectionately named it. The sportbike rocked a midnight black wrap and the cool customizations he added made it a standout even more. Of course, what kind of person would think Sukuna would stick with a boring base design? One of the best things about his R1 was its front light, infamous in the bike community, as it resembled a menacing face that added to its aggressive allure. It was also equipped with a powerful 998cc inline-four engine, leaving no questions why ‘Fury’ roared with a throaty exhaust note that echoed through the streets. Sukuna chuckled inwardly at the thought. He hoped you wouldn’t mind, but this big bad boy would have been the love of his life if you hadn’t come along.

“Love, I was thinking,” you interrupted his trance as he slipped the smaller helmet over your head, deftly securing the straps under your chin, “Do you think we can swing by the bookstore on the way?”

His lips curved into a smile. “Sure, we can. You wanna pick up more books to read?”

“I do,” you confirmed, yet hesitated at the end of your tone. “Well, there’s this book I wanna read, but… it has eighteen plus stuff.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow in intrigue, his visor still up as he effortlessly lifted you onto the back of his bike with one arm. “Oh, so it’s a spicy book, huh?” he teased, recalling the discussions he had seen on ‘biketok’ where he went by the username r1.skn. His TikTok account was an unexpected blend of motorcycle enthusiasts and book lovers, and that unique intersection of interests amused him endlessly. “Think my followers would love to know what my backpack’s gonna read next.”

Even with your helmet on, he could sense the shy smile behind it. “No, please don’t film our ride today!”

“Hmm… What kind of spicy book are we talking about, baby?” he asked, settling onto his bike and revving the engine. When your arms were securely wrapped around his torso, he took that as a go signal to hold the throttle and smoothly shift from first to second gear. “Is it very naughty?”

You hugged him tightly from behind. “Um, it’s about this biker guy and a bookish girl,” you introduced the plot coyly, “And yes, it has some steamy scenes.”

He glanced at you through the bike’s mirror, ensuring that you were safe and secured behind him. Sukuna then shifted into third gear as you entered an empty road, gradually picking up speed. The roar of his bike was louder than his voice. “Really? I bet the biker guy is a dominant one.”

“Yeah.” Your grip tightened on his compression shirt, almost as if you were trying to feel his abs through the fabric. “He’s got tattoos, too.”

What a tease. “You better picture me as that biker guy when you read that book, princess,” he playfully warned, “You’re mine, both in real life and in your fantasies.”

“Yes, but my lovey is hotter.”

“Good response, baby. You have taste.”

As you reached the stoplight in the city intersection, Sukuna slowed down and adjusted the small camera mounted on his bike to make sure it still had the perfect angle of you two. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he now had evidence of how touchy his cute, little backpack could get. You sensed him filming your interaction, but instead of pulling your hand away, you leaned further against his back and playfully touched his toned chest. He was surprised and amused at the action, gently pulling your hand down when your silly hands squeezed his chest, but you remained undeterred by placing them near his crotch the next. Your boyfriend hoped to God that none of the surrounding cars were recording you two for your affectionate display in the middle of the traffic.

“Brat,” he teased back with a shake of his head. “A brat who always gets what she wants, especially in bed.”

Your whine followed, along with a light slap on his arm. “Hey!”

Why was this red light taking too long? He was getting all bricked up the more he could feel your tits pressing against his back. Although, he considered it a blessing and curse, because the only distraction that was served to you two was when another bike pulled up ahead of cars lined up behind you. It was a white Kawasaki ZX-10R. And its owner? A jerk who had a clear death wish.

“Hey there, sexy,” catcalled the rider of the 10R, stopping exactly where he could see your rear. “Cute helmet.”

Sukuna knew you well enough to know that you were offering an uncomfortable, yet polite smile underneath the helmet. But it was the tug at your boyfriend’s shirt that made him glance over the biker with a hint of warning in his eyes. “What’d you say?” His voice carried a menacing edge. While he hadn’t been in a brawl in a while, he definitely didn’t mind the idea of one now. “Back off my girl or I’ll smash your head on the ground.”

The ZX-10R rider chuckled, hands in the air like an idiot. “Alright, man. No harm meant.”

“Shut it.”

“Okay, jeez! How about a little race to settle things? See who’s got the faster ride?”

Sukuna scoffed, finding it hard to believe that a random guy, especially an obvious amateur, had the audacity to challenge him to a race. Didn’t he know? Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t nicknamed the King of the Streets for nothing. He had been riding motorcycles for twelve years now, starting with a modest 300cc and graduating to his current 1000cc superbike. His riding experience was unmatched. He also knew every biker in the area as it was his turf. Yet this ZX-10R rider had appeared out of nowhere with such laughable confidence.

Thanks to him, your boyfriend’s competitive spirit was ignited. “You’re on.”

“Cool,” the other biker replied.

Meanwhile, you tensed behind Sukuna and gripped his shirt tighter than before. “Love, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He turned his head, gently held the top of your head, and gave you a sweet ‘helmet kiss’. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reassured, “Just hold on tight for me, okay?”

As soon as the light turned green, best believe the street became a racetrack. All the cars were left behind to dust with the roar of motorcycles as both bikers increased their speed, side by side, in a fierce race. Sukuna shifted into third gear as he passed the next intersection, then into fourth gear when the ZX-10R caught up to him. He could feel your hold around him tightening more than ever as the rush of the wind blew through your helmet’s visor.

He thought you might hate it, but you were surprisingly loving the thrill of the scene.

“Go, baby!” you cheered, holding onto him for dear life. Cute.

“Not bad, man!” the other biker shouted over the wind, pulling ahead slightly at Sukuna’s moment of distraction. “But try harder!”

Tch. Sukuna gritted his teeth and focused all his senses on the road ahead. He weaved through traffic, maneuvering his bike skillfully and taking advantage of every opportunity to gain ground. In no time, he caught up with the ZX-10R rider, and they soon raced neck and neck. They exchanged glances as they sped between cars, with the other vehicles blurring around them in motion. The thrill of the competition fueled their adrenaline, while you, as the passenger, felt your heart pounding with excitement.

Both bikes continued to zoom down the road. And it was also during that time when Sukuna locked his mind and body into analyzing the situation. Let’s see, he thought, should I push Fury to its limits?

He calculated his next move, feeling the strong breeze on his face and the vibrations of the powerful engine beneath him. The ZX-10R rider was good, but Sukuna knew he had the skills and the bike to outpace him. He just needed to time it right. Between a ZX-10R and an R1, a quick Google search would tell you that the 10R pulls faster than an R1 engine wise. While both bikes were top-tier, high performance vehicles with a 200 horsepower and a top speed exceeding 180mph, the 10R’s disadvantage is being 7 kg heavier, which instantly gave Sukuna an edge in this situation. Being the lighter bike between the two would certainly make him marginally better at handling and acceleration.

With that, your boyfriend capitalized on his bike’s strengths and shifted into sixth gear at the next intersection, surging ahead and crossing the finish line just as the ZX-10R was left stuck at the last stoplight.

Sweet, sweet victory. Sukuna sped onto the freeway, shouting triumphantly into the air. “Woohoo!” He could feel the jolt of adrenaline satiating his need for a thrilling ride.

“B-Babe.” You, on the other hand, tugged at his shirt in worry. “Babe, we’re going too fast. The cops—!”

The sound of the siren snapped Sukuna back to reality in an instant. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated by the abrupt interruption. “Can’t even have a minute to celebrate my win.”

While he could have engaged in a high-speed freeway chase if he wanted to, especially having already escaped the police once, having you with him now made him opt for better judgment. His promise to keep you safe was his foremost priority here. So, swallowing his pride with a tightened jaw, he slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as the police car trailed behind.

The officer swiftly exited his vehicle and approached you two. “Evening, folks,” the stern voice of the elderly officer broke the tension. “License and registration, please.”

Sukuna retrieved his wallet and handed over his license and registration, then turned to you, placing a protective hand on your thigh. He could tell his poor little backpack was feeling anxious.

The cop then glanced between you and Sukuna, his gaze lingering on you with concern. “Ma’am, are you alright?” he asked, his focus more on your well-being than on the biker himself.

You nodded, trying to appear composed despite the adrenaline still coursing through you. “Yes, officer. I’m fine.”

The officer soon directed his attention to the R1. “What’s the fastest you’ve been on this thing?”

Sukuna couldn’t resist a cheeky reply. “Speed limit.”

“Very funny,” said the unamused officer, who retreated to his vehicle to run Sukuna’s information while leaving you and your boyfriend to exchange glances once more.

His expression softened. “Sorry about this, babe. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a squeeze around his waist. “I trust you.”

Interrupting the tender moment, the officer returned and handed back your boyfriend’s license. “Do you know why I pulled you over?” he asked, receiving a shrug in response. A lecture that Sukuna heavily hated soon followed. “You were speeding back there. I clocked you going 20 miles over the limit. It’s always you fellas with the 1000cc bikes who think they’re invincible. Even 600cc guys are scared of the police. You need to slow down, especially with a passenger.”

With your insistent look, Sukuna nodded to the cop, apologetically. “Understood, sir.”

The officer studied Sukuna for a moment before releasing a sigh. “Look, I get it. It’s a nice night for a ride. Just remember, it’s not just your life on the line. You’ve got someone else to think about.” He pointed at you while handing your boyfriend a ticket. “You’ve gotta take good care of her.”

Only then did Sukuna’s cold mien soften up with the cop. “I’ll be careful next time, officer.”

“Right. I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but I’m writing you a ticket for speeding. Slow down, alright?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

The officer returned to his car, and Sukuna pocketed the ticket with a mixture of relief and frustration etched on his face. “We didn’t get to pass by your bookstore,” he lamented, giving you an affectionate caress on the back. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You touched your headgear to his, sharing a helmet kiss. “There’s always next time,” you reassured him with a smile in your voice. “Besides, this is a real-life experience that no book can ever give me.”

By the time you arrived at your apartment, darkness had already settled in, leaving a cozy glow from the distant cityscape as you switched on the lights and placed your helmet on the nearby console table. Immediately, your British shorthair cat dashed toward you with a loud meow, his pretty auburn eyes gleaming with excitement at seeing his mom.

“Hi, Casper,” you cooed at the feline, but his attention swiftly turned when Sukuna entered your apartment a few minutes later—someone he clearly wasn’t fond of.

Upon spotting Sukuna, your cat hissed, expressing his displeasure toward your boyfriend, who playfully stuck his tongue out in response. “I’m back, asshole.”

“Don’t call him that!” You chuckled, attending to Casper by mixing up his food in his bowl. “He’s probably never going to warm up to you at this rate.”

Sukuna smoothly removed his jacket and flopped down on the couch. “Boo! Casper sucks,” he hooted, cupping his hands around his mouth, “He’s just jealous because you love me more.”

It had been a while since Casper had seen Sukuna since you were the one coming over at his place more often. Still, the cat’s disdain for your boyfriend persisted, and you suspected it was because Casper could detect the scent of Sukuna’s dog, a large Doberman, whenever he was near. You can only imagine how crazy your household would be should you and your boyfriend move in together in the near future.

For now, his occasional visits sufficed. Although, there were days when his presence in your apartment stirred more thoughts in your mind than just simple cuddles and movie nights. How could you help it? He was oblivious to the thoughts running in your head as he sat lazily on your couch, his legs spread wide, lifting his compression shirt just above his sweaty chest. His toned abs were impossible to ignore, especially as he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily.

“Babe, it’s so hot,” he said, fanning his face, completely unaware of the chaos inside your head. “Wanna shower before bed?”

His suggestion was innocent enough, but your immediate agreement was driven by a different kind of excitement. “Okay,” you replied with a sheepish grin, “I’ll see if you have any clothes left in the closet.”

You see, you and Sukuna had just started dating a few months ago—precisely 6 months and 3 weeks to be exact, so the relationship was definitely still fresh and vulnerable. But needless to say, while he was indeed a sweet and dreamy boyfriend that you could only ever read about in your stash of fictional books, there was also a side of him that awakened the more mature side of you.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Sukuna was more experienced in the intimacy department than you. And him being your first did bring in thoughts of inadequacy in terms of your performance in bed. You haven’t done it enough to call yourself a pro, but you also did it enough to say that you already knew what, how, and where to please him the most. You owe that experience to the multitude of smut scenes you had read about on Tumblr and AO3, because those exact stories provided essential insights that guided your actions on your first time.

Now, whenever the sexy beast within you was unleashed, you didn’t even hold back anymore.

The shower was already running when you stepped inside the small space, your boyfriend letting the cold water fall on his naked tattooed body in rivulets. Each drop of water sounded like rainfall, and with him pulling you closer by the arm, he began kissing you with a passion that made it feel like you were caught in a rainstorm.

“Lovey!” You giggled, pushing your palms flat against his chest. “You said we’ll just shower.”

“You know what I meant by that, baby.”

The water continued to cascade down your skin, your hair now damp and your body now wet. Sukuna’s eyes darkened in lust as eyed you up and down, his hands tracing the curves of your body, before crashing his lips back onto yours once more. This time, his kisses were more aggressive as he bit your lower lip, and took the opportunity of shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He was devouring you with rough and wide movements, allowing your tongue to roll around his in a playful tangle. And with his fingers now grabbing a fistful of your hair, and his other hand sliding down your chest to squeeze your breast, you felt a stretch on your scalp when he pulled you by the hair to look up at him. “You think you’re so innocent, don’t you?” he teased, kneading your right breast before his hand moved south to palm your dripping cunt, “Deep down, you’re just as naughty and wicked as me.”

“N-No.” Your breath hitched when his lips traced light kisses around your neck. But it wasn’t just his kisses and touch that made your knees weak, it was the feeling of his hardened member pressed against your stomach, fully erect and ready to be inside you. “Mmh… You’re the naughty one.”

Sukuna went in for another open-mouthed kiss before he nibbled on your earlobe. “I don’t deny that, princess,” he pivoted your body around, and made you lean against the glass wall so he could get a better view of your buttocks. While you, you could see your tits pressed against the glass from your reflection in the mirror, a sight that your boyfriend went absolutely crazy for when he looked up. “Ah, fuck. That’s so hot.”

You could feel his fingers playing with your entrance from behind, and you watched him bite his lip through the mirror, his eyes dancing in lust as he wantonly stared at your body. “Ngh,” you bit back a moan, the feeling of his fingers teasing your entrance making you curl your toes, “I… I-I like that.”

“I bet you do, baby.” Good lord. His voice was deep and raspy, and the sexiness of it was enough to make you wet. He even showed you evidence per se, when he pulled his digits out, spreading two fingers apart to show you the clear, slimy substance that coated it. You were already a blushing mess when he showed you your cum, and felt the heat in your cheeks worsening as you watched him, eye-to-eye, suck your juices from his fingers. “Aww, my baby tastes sweet.”

“It’s the pineapple juice,” you joked, allowing him to cup your jaw and place a sloppy kiss on your mouth. “Mmm—I forgot to tell you.” You pulled away to look at your boyfriend. “I’m ovulating.”

Sukuna tilted his head, squeezing your bum tenderly as he replied, “Are you suggesting I get you pregnant?”

“No, silly!” You chuckled shyly while he positioned himself behind you. “I was trying to say that I get extra horny when I’m ovulating.”

He smiled, aroused more than ever as he heard you say those words out loud. “Too bad, I was thinking of creampie-ing you.”

A gasp flew out of your lips when Sukuna’s long, slender fingers performed circular motions on your clitoris, stretching your labia apart so he could insert two fingers at your entrance. “B-Babe!” Your widened eyes were in great contrast to his lust-filled ones as he found entertainment at your submission to pleasure. You gripped his wrist and tiptoed when he started scissoring his fingers inside, forcing you to raise your leg so he could continue to move his hand in and out of your sopping cunt. “Ahh—ah! S-Sukuna!”

He hadn’t heard his name from you in awhile and he found that amusing. “Hm, baby? Saying something?”

You squeezed your legs together to hide the clench that you were feeling inside, looking up at his crazed brown eyes and tracing his pectoral muscles with your fingers. You couldn’t hold it anymore, you were a willing slut ready to be pounded on by this tattooed man. “Please, f-fuck me.”

He reattached his lips back onto yours and pulled away just enough to keep your foreheads connected. “Not yet, baby girl.” A sly smirk spread off his lips. “That book you were reading earlier at the cafe,” he began, pulling his fingers away to turn you around, “It was smut, wasn’t it?”

Feeling a wave of embarrassment as he brought it up, you responded with a coquettish smile. “Maybe.”

Sukuna then pushed you down on your knees, letting you kneel down in front of his hard, veiny cock. He had stroked himself a few times—his other hand lifting your chin up—before he slapped his length against your lips. “Think you can show me how they did it in that book?”

“Why…” you trailed off, wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping the long, meaty shaft before placing your tongue on top of the swollen tip. He was all crazed and aroused when you kept eye-contact and started putting his member inside your mouth.

“Damn.” Your boyfriend threw his head back, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Let’s make all your fantasies a reality, baby.”

Well, he was sweet for that. But also mischievous, too. He knew you could be just as naughty as him because he had seen the books you were reading and most of them were definitely far from innocent. Could he blame you? Sometimes, reading about it was better than experiencing it. Yet with your boyfriend’s ego, he wasn’t one to allow your fictional men to be better than him in all aspects. Physically. Emotionally. Sexually.

You let him guide your hand into stroking his shaft before you ejected spit on the pink head, using it to lubricate his aching member while you lowered yourself further to fit his firm balls inside your mouth. It gave you utmost pleasure to hear his guttural moans when you swirled your tongue around his bollocks—tasting the same flesh that carried all of his sperm, and releasing it from your mouth to give his cock the same attention. At first, you kissed his swollen tip and treated it like a lollipop, then you started sucking every inch of his length by bobbing your head at a stable rhythm. “Mmm.” You could hear curses leaving his pretty lips as he held your head in place, snapping his hips forward until you were gagging from the intense penetration on your throat.

You learned all these after a single read at your favorite 18+ book.

“That’s a good girl.” His praise rang in your ears like a sweet melody.

Even without a reflection to look at, this was the most erotogenic exchange you two had ever done as a couple. And along with that, his half lidded eyes were staring down at you, judging you and your every move.

You did your best to give him a stellar performance, did your most at pleasuring his member, and did everything that he liked whenever you were sucking his cock. And just like that, thick ropes of cum were sent straight down your throat. The musky, metallic taste didn’t stop you from swallowing all of his seed and you had to show your tongue to make him know that you did a good job at taking all of his semen. Nothing was wasted.

Not even time, because as soon as you finished giving him a blowjob, he was already carrying you out of the bathroom without drying yourselves off. You were thrown into your double bed, manhandled into spreading your legs apart before your animalistic lover plunged his face onto your pussy.

“S-Sukuna—! Mmm—fuck!”

He had your back arching because of how deep his tongue was going inside, tasting your walls and kissing your cunt like he would do with your mouth. He was smooching off your labia like a hungry beast, eating you out as if he wasn’t satisfied by the juices that he was sucking from you. You were already in your seventh heaven, unable to think straight when he added his middle finger to the movements of his tongue. If fingering your pussy and lapping your clitoris weren’t enough to drive you crazy, maybe grabbing a fistful of pinkish hair was a sign for him to stop before you could truly lose it. You could feel fire pooling on your lower abdomen and your legs were already shaking uncontrollably, your toes curling wantonly—with the suction he was doing on your cunt, you ended up screaming for his name and engulfing his mouth with your Earth-shattering release.

“Haah! ‘Kuna, p-please…”

As he detached his mouth from your entrance, he started climbing up, visibly pleased with the way he ravaged your cunt. He was wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, pressing his lips down on yours to make you taste your own fluid. A string of saliva connected your mouth to his before he grabbed ahold of his erect member once again. It hadn’t even been more than two minutes and you were already being hauled into another position. “Let me fuck you from behind.”

“Lovey, w-wait.”

“Ass up, baby.” His patience was growing thin when he dragged your body by raising your hips close to his crotch and pressing your head down against the mattress. Your boyfriend cared none for the embarrassment that settled on your heated cheeks when he spread your buttocks apart so he could ogle at the exact hole that he was about to enter.

“No, wait!” you begged, looking up at him with a plea, “Condom, please.”

The realization hit his face. “I think I’m all out, baby. Let me check,” he said, pulling away and stumbling towards his discarded pants on the floor, hoping desperately that he would find an unused packet of condom. Just to his luck, he had one more packet hidden between the folds of his leather wallet. “Got it!”

He hastily ripped the packet with his teeth, taking the rubber out, and rolling it slowly to cover his entire length. You remained on all fours, watching him as he ejected spit on his fingers, which he soon used to lubricate your entrance.

Did he give you any time to adjust? That word didn’t even exist in his vocabulary when he sunk all seven inches inside of your cunt, wrecking you open to the point where you could feel a stinging sensation on your entrance after being stretched by his fully erect cock. “Best pussy in the entire world.”

You were suppressing your moans from coming out too loud while you bit on a pillow, nails digging on the sheets as your lover penetrated your tight vaginal walls. “Ahh! M-More… More.” He was treating you like a fleshlight as he continued to rut your sopping cunt with his fat cock, absolutely enjoying how your warm pussy was milking his full length.

“Can your fictional boys fuck you like this, baby?” he breathed, all deep and velvety as he gave you the most rhythmical skin-slapping thrusts. He was so deep in your cavern that you could feel the base of his cock slamming against your ass. You didn’t even notice the hand that was snaking on your front to massage your bouncing tit because you were far too lost in the shockwaves of sexual gratification. “No other man can fuck you this good.”

It was like he was riding his own bike. With how fast his pace was increasing, you were already too limp to feel his hard thrusts.

Your brain was short-circuiting from the amount of sensation that was entering your body, intoxicated by the waves of libido in your system that was heightening more and more as he continued to satisfy your insatiable heat. You could barely think straight. You lost your sanity. All the modest parts of you had completely dissolved into a bitch in heat. Like a needy little whore. You didn’t even have any control of your own words when you started telling Sukuna, “I… want… you to keep… fucking me… like this.” Another forceful slam elicited a mewl out of you. “A-Aah! Haah!”

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” Your boyfriend held a tighter grip on your hips, your moaning face leaving an imprint on his mind as he propelled your body forward and raced towards his ecstasy. After yet another thrust or two, or three, or four… Spurts of warm seed started exploding into the rubber. Sukuna’s thrust had become unsteady, his body falling down on the bed but his member still remaining inside of you. “I can’t get enough of your pussy, baby.”

You were catching your breath after he broke your mind into becoming this sex-obsessed freak. “Lookie! My bed’s all wet now.”

He smiled and finally pulled out, only to lean down again and plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Let me carry you to the couch,” he offered, but first he had to pull the condom out of his cock to reveal a cum-filled rubber. “Christ. I came a lot.”

In other words, his cum would have been dripping out of your pussy for days.

You extended your arms, awaiting to be lifted like a princess by your lover. “Carry me now, please!”

“I will, baby.” Without hesitation, he scooped you up in his tattooed arms. He, too, was heavy breathing, but he still effortlessly held you. “I’ll take care of cleaning your sheets while you sleep.”

He was already walking towards the living room as you kicked your feet in the air, giving his cheek a gentle squeeze. “Can you clean out Casper’s litter box, too?”

Sukuna made a face of disgust, glancing at the cat before gently setting you down on the couch. “Only if he stops being an asshole,” he joked, but your pleading expression melted his resolve. “Alright, fine. I’ll take care of your bed, your cat’s litter... what else? You’re lucky I love you, you know.” He moved to the window, drawing the curtains closed to shield you from prying eyes. “Do you think your neighbors saw us fuck earlier? I forgot to pull the curtains on your bedroom.”

You laughed, pulling the sheets up to cover yourself. “Well, there’s this couple that’s been giving me strange looks lately, so it definitely isn’t the first time they’ve seen us do it.”

“It’s like that movie we watched,” Sukuna mused, trying to recall the title.

“The Voyeurs!” you both exclaimed in unison, sharing a laugh before you gestured to him. “Get dressed, lovey!”

Sukuna returned to tuck you in under the thin sheets, leaning down to give you a peck on the lips. “And you get some rest now, baby.”

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you woke up, stretching lazily in bed to find Casper purring next to you. That’s strange, you thought. Your cat normally wouldn’t go near you when your boyfriend was around, so you turned to your side, expecting to find Sukuna still sleeping beside you, but the spot was empty. Confused, you glanced around the room, noticing that his motorcycle gear was also missing from its usual place.

“Lovey?” you called out through the empty apartment. “Where are you?”

With no response received, you walked towards your bedroom and found the sheets had been changed and everything was tidy. Searching the bathroom yielded no clues to Sukuna’s whereabouts either. And a quick trip downstairs to check his usual parking spot confirmed your suspicion—he had left without a word.

You frowned, reaching for your phone to send him an annoyed text.

YOU: love, where are you?

YOU: i’m not some kind of booty call that you can just leave the next morning without a say

The minutes ticked by as you waited for a reply, feeling a mix of frustration and worry because of his absence. Were you overthinking this? Perhaps he was just out to get you lunch. Or maybe he had an emergency. You tried to calm yourself down by breathing deeply and thinking of any possible explanation other than the worst-case scenario. Maybe his phone died, or he got caught up in something urgent. But after an hour of no response, worry began to gnaw at you. Did he just ghost me?

“Oh, God.” You paced back and forth in your apartment, checking your phone repeatedly for any sign of a message or call from Sukuna. “Oh, God. Oh, God! I’ve read about this a lot. Why are guys such jerks?”

You tried to rationalize his absence, hoping for a reasonable explanation, but your mind persisted racing through various scenarios, with each one more disheartening than the last. Maybe he’d gotten tired of you, or perhaps he was scared of commitment. The frustration and confusion were almost unbearable. Was the sex last night not good enough for him?

That situation lasted the entire afternoon. And you wanted to rip your hair out at the fact that your boyfriend had been gone for hours, his phone unreachable, and his friends having no idea where he was.

So as the evening approached and your anxiety grew, you decided to call Sukuna again. It was the 47th missed call. But just as you were about to dial his number once more, you heard the familiar roar of his R1.

“What the hell.” You rushed to the window and saw your boyfriend pulling into the parking area. Relief flooded your system as you watched him switch off the engine, dismount his bike, and walk leisurely towards your apartment building’s lobby like he didn’t just leave an anxious girlfriend without a note the morning after he fucked her brains out.

You waited for him to arrive at your doorstep, your heart calmer but still ticking with anxiety as the clock rang in your ears. You were ready to give him a lashing for being unresponsive to your texts and calls. But as the door swung open, your boyfriend knowing your passcode by heart, you didn’t expect that your anger at him would end up being for a totally different reason.

Because there he was, standing by your door looking slightly disheveled but with a sheepish smile on his face. He held a Barnes & Noble bag in one hand.

“Hey, baby—”

“What the heck happened?” You rushed to him, noticing the scrapes and bruises on his face. “Are you okay? I was worried sick!”

Sukuna removed his helmet and winced slightly, the corner of his lower lip was smeared with dried blood. “Sorry, my love,” he spoke softly, going in for a comforting hug, “I wanted to surprise you, but things got a little complicated.”

You pulled away to touch his bruised cheek. “You’re hurt. Why aren’t you answering my texts?”

“Phone’s dead,” he answered, showing you his lifeless phone before handing over the bag. “And this is for you, my beautiful princess.”

Taking the bag, you said, “You didn’t have to do this.” Then your eyes scanned his face for any sign of serious injury.

“I wanted to,” he insisted, his voice filled with affection despite his exhaustion. “I’m sorry for making you worry.”

You eyed the Barnes & Noble bag, realizing that the book inside was the exact one you had mentioned wanting yesterday. Your emotions swirled in a mix of frustration and tenderness. Should you lecture him for being so reckless, or cry because of how romantic it was that he went out of his way to get the book you had been searching for?

But first and foremost, how and where did he get all those bruises?

Before you could ask, he already had an answer prepared. “Long story, baby. Let's just say I had a little run-in with another biker who had the same idea as me.”

You grabbed his hand and guided him to sit on the couch while you hurriedly fetched your first aid kit. As you tended to the scrapes on Sukuna’s face, Casper the cat approached cautiously, sniffing his scent before surprising both of you by leaning against your boyfriend’s leg.

“Meow~”

“Casper!” Sukuna exclaimed joyfully, picking up the cat with a playful flourish like how Rafiki carried Simba in The Lion King “Babe, he finally likes me!”

You rolled your eyes affectionately and joined Sukuna on the couch, gently tilting his chin to examine his bruise. “Tell me exactly what happened,” you asked with a hint of sternness, “You went all over town just for this book?”

Your boyfriend carefully set Casper back down and nodded. “Yeah, it’s the last one they had. Had to fight for it, though.” He then rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I don’t even get a kiss or a thank you?”

At once, all your defenses crumbled. You let go of the gauze in your hand and pulled your boyfriend into a tender kiss, wrapping him in a warm hug afterward. “You’re insane, you know that? I was so worried about you, and now I find out you spent the whole day looking for this book.” You sighed, overwhelmed by the rollercoaster of emotions the day had brought. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of love for the man who had gone to such lengths to make you happy. “But thank you, lovey. That’s really sweet of you.”

Sukuna, now grinning broadly, held you closer around the waist. “Always welcome, my baby.”

“Now, tell me about that biker,” you began, taking a q-tip and some ointment, “How’d you get into a fight?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it,” he recalled, amused at the thought, “He was going to get the book for his girl, too. But I got there first, and he wouldn’t let me have it.”

Jesus. You couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh at the absurdity of two bikers squabbling over a book in a bookstore. “You should’ve just let him have it.”

“But baby!” he protested like a child, “I couldn’t come home empty-handed. I already feel bad we didn’t get to pass by the bookstore yesterday.”

What a stubborn boyfriend you have. “I already told you it’s okay, lovey. You’re the best boyfriend already. I appreciate the effort and I’m even more in love with you now than ever,” you reassured, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose, “Now, is there anything I can give you in return? As a thank you?”

Oh, boy. You already assumed he would request for something concerning activities in bed. But his face suddenly lit up as if a lightbulb just appeared above his head. His idea was surely not what you had in mind.

“How about I teach you how to ride my bike?”

The sun hung low on the horizon as Sukuna stood beside his Yamaha R1, patiently explaining the basics of riding ‘Fury’ to you. He seemed to be heavily enjoying this whole thing. Meanwhile, you, donning a helmet and gloves, were fully geared up, nervousness evident as you cautiously swung your leg over the bike.

“Ah, dammit.” Your boyfriend was grinning like an idiot as he saw you sitting on his bike. “You’re gonna be one hot biker girl. I can’t! You’re mine. Don’t let them see you like this, babe!”

“Stop exaggerating!” you retorted, your voice tense with nerves as you gripped the handlebars tightly. “This bike feels… big.”

“Like my cock?”

“Stop it.”

Sukuna erupted into a chuckle before proceeding to move closer to you. “Alright, babe. Remember what I showed you about the clutch and throttle control,” he encouraged, “Take it slow.”

Nodding, you started the bike and felt the powerful engine rumble beneath you. With your boyfriend’s guidance, you eased out the clutch and gave a tentative twist of the throttle. The bike lurched forward, causing you to panic and squeeze the brakes hard.

“Oh, my God!” You let out a squeak of surprise. “Oh, my God! I’m gonna die.”

“Easy there.” He held your waist protectively. “Let’s try one more time?”

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intimidating power of the machine beneath you and instead focus on Sukuna’s instructions. Even with his guidance, you found yourself repeating the same mistake where this time, you braked too hard again, causing your body to jolt forward dangerously. You would have fallen from the bike if not for your boyfriend catching you right on time.

“I can’t do this…” You shook your head, frantically. “I’m not cut out for this.”

Sukuna held you steady, his hands firm yet reassuring. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly, looking into your eyes. “It takes time, alright? You’re doing fine. Maybe we should start with something smaller.”

You let out a heavy exhale as Sukuna carried you off his bike. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Like a lower cc bike?” he suggested, giving your helmet a playful tap. “Let’s start you off on a 150cc bike. Yuuji has a CBR150R we can borrow.”

“I wouldn’t want to wreck your nephew’s bike,” you teased, watching from the side as Sukuna effortlessly mounted his own bike.

He revved the engine and reached out for your hand, helping you settle in behind him. “Then, you can just stay being my backpack princess for now”

With your arms securely around his waist, the bike accelerated, the wind whipping against your helmet visor. The view of the sunset was perfect for this ride. “So, does that mean I’m not your ride or die anymore?”

Sukuna took your hand from behind, lifting it to his lips for a kiss. “Nah. You’ll always be my ride or die, baby.”

#ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #biker sukuna #biker au #biker bf sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #biker boy x book girl #jjk smut #jjk fluff

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arilevenatz · 1 month ago

Text

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

Masterlist

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

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heartepub · 17 days ago

Text

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask.

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread.

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash.

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.”

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.”

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red.

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless.

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke.

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom.

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you.

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen.

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind.

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you.

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you.

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment.

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfiction #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt fanfiction #.dive site

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pretty-little-mind33 · 5 months ago

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ＳＨＯＲＴＡＮＤＳＷＥＥＴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

muggle au poly!marauders x fem!reader

Summary: You introduce yourself to the bookstore next door.

Warnings: none

"𝒪𝒽, 𝐼 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓉𝑒 𝒶𝓃 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃"

The air is chilly as you pull your jumper over your shoulders, balancing your silver tray in one hand. You blow some hair from your eyes and close on the door to your small cafe, the bell chiming after you. While technically you don't officially open until 10 am for brunch this morning, you had planned an assortment of mini-drinks and pastries to bring to the neighboring businesses so you could introduce yourself to them.

Your first destination is the bookstore across the street. It's an old red-brick building, accompanied by a worn-out wooden door and a wooden sign where the name, "Moony's Library" is proudly displayed in chipped white paint. It looks homey and antique and when you walk over and can see that the small plaque on the door says closed. You knock anyway.

You receive no answer.

Biting your lip, you hold your tray tighter against your sides, frowning as you raise your arm awkwardly to try again. Still no answer. You try the handle this time. You could have sworn you saw someone in the window. The door opens with a creak as you tentatively push on it and hesitantly, you step inside.

Just as you do, your shoe hits the slightly raised step of the entrance, bending your ankle awkwardly as you almost fall over. You gasp, catching yourself just in time as none of your drinks spilled or pastries fall.

Thankful no one saw you—

"Clumsy, aren't you?" a voice drawls from the corner of the room and you jump, almost dropping the tray again. When you turn, you see a man sitting in an armchair in the corner, his left foot bound in a medical boot. His crutches lay against the side of the armchair.

The man is strikingly handsome, with his round glasses resting on his nose and his messy dark hair curls framed around his sharp hazel eyes. He isn't smiling, instead he is simply smirking like he knows something you don't know.

"You scared me." Your voice sounds more intimidated than anticipated, and you walk towards the counter, placing the tray near some old books. You're careful not to ruin them as your cheeks burn warm. "I knocked," you point out, afraid he'll accuse you of being a trespasser.

"I heard," the man says with a chuckle.

Your eyebrows scrunch and he reads your mind.

"We're closed. Didn't want to stand and open the door when we are closed." The man shrugs and as handsome as he is, you don't like how he's practically making fun of you. His eyes land on the drinks and trays and his lips curl, his voice a little more lighthearted this time. He makes a guess. "You own Whisk and Whims Cafe?"

You nod and walk over, holding one of your drink samples to him. "This is a Caramel Cappuccino. It's called Autumn Swirl," you say and then pause a moment. "My name is Y/n," you add quietly.

The man takes the drink and drinks it all in one go. He smiles and looks at you again. "Decent," he teases, wiping the foam from his lips. "Hint of cinnamon?"

You nod again as another voice interrupts you. "James. Be nice, will you?" The man, James, rolls his eyes at this and leans back in the armchair, adjusting his boot with a grunt. You look behind you at the newcomer and your heart leaps. It's another man, just as handsome as this one. He looks taller and lankier and he has deep scars adorning his skin, accompanied by faint freckles you can only see if you focus very hard. Which you are. His dusty dark-blond hair swooshes almost perfectly. He's breathtaking and you lose your train of thought.

"Hi, I'm Remus," the man comes up and holds out his hand, "Ignore my friend here, he can be grumpy in the morning."

You nod, looking at Remus and then James.

"Shut up, Moony."

"Moony," you whisper, referring to the bookstore's name. You look at Remus directly and smile. "You're the owner."

Remus chuckles and hums, strolling behind the counter. He looks around the old-fashioned bookstore; the books are arranged on tall bookshelves all around, wooden ladders accompanying the slightly dusty shelves. The ceiling is painted mural style, adorned by golden trim. His hand smoothes over an old book and then he looks at your tray of pastries and drinks.

"And you must be my new neighbor."

You smile and point to one of the small sample cookies. "Chocolate chip," you say and smile at Remus, "you seem like a chocolate kinda guy."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, love," James interrupts from behind you. He's leaning on one of his crutches, his broad shoulders flexing as he rolls them. He's smiling at you, towering over you as he leans one of his arms on the counter.

Your cheeks feel warm again. "Are you partners?" You ask.

James laughs loudly, his pretty lips turning into a smile. "No," Remus answers, finishing the cookie as he wipes the crumbs from his lips. "Jamie here is just helping while he recovers from his injury."

Your gaze falls to James's boot and he catches your gaze, his jaw clenching as he captures your chin in his hand, keeping your eyes on him. Fuck, you think as you look at him and his touch sends a jolt of electricity, he's so handsome.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he grumbles. The boot is obviously a sour subject for him and your eyes snap up.

You nod, entranced. James smirks and drops your chin, his hand lingering in the air. Remus clears his throat and your attention is pulled to him again. "Y'know, I was thinking we could do something fun with our businesses—" Remus offers, stealing your attention as James's smile disappears and he clears his throat, turning to look at some of the books on the shelf.

You turn to Remus fully now, fiddling with the small sample cups. "Oh?"

Remus nods. "I mean, a cafe and bookstore? A match made in heaven," he explains his plan, "I'm thinking we could host some events. Perhaps an evening tea book club? And we could have opportunities to blend our businesses, for example, one book purchased here could earn them one coupon at Whisk and Whims and some bonus coupons if they read the book in your cafe. I could also have James build you a bookshelf, he's my personal handyman, with sample books from here to bring in more customers, ones they could buy potentially—"

"Who said I would build you the bookshelf— I'm injured—" James interjects.

"James," Remus sends his friend a glare and you smile.

"I'd like that," you interrupt, loving Remus's plan. You feel happy that you've found him and your smile widens. "Thank you," you say honestly.

Remus's heart leaps at that smile you wear and he has to shake himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, y-yeah, no problem," he says, his Welsh accent slipping out because he's nervous and James sends him a curious look.

When you return to your café, the interactions replay in your head. You switch the open sign, humming as the mental image of James's curly hair and Remus's smile causes you to feel an unfamiliar giddiness in your chest. The morning is slower, which you'd expected from your first day, but you don't mind as your mind wanders.

Eventually, the clock strikes one, and that familiar bell rings. You look up from where you're rearranging the cookies in the window. There are only a few customers and you only have a few staff so you see him instantly.

You jump up, rushing to the door to open it for him since he does have crutches at the moment. However, you almost slam into a doe-eyed redhead as she holds the door open for James. Your eyes widen and you stumble back, hand finding your apron as you suppress the embarrassment coursing your veins.

The girl turns to you, skin pale and eyes a shiny emerald green. Her cherry red hair is braided to the side and she looks behind her, smiling as James helps himself through the door. He lifts his head, staring at you.

"Y/n," he says your name, a little surprised to find you here and not behind the counter. Where you should be. He turns to his girlfriend—friend? And for the first time since you'd met him today, he smiles warmly, "Thanks, Lils,"

James looks at you again and this time, the smile stays. "Remus is still busy but I wanted to stop by and see how business is," he looks around the mostly empty room and his smile falters just enough for you to see the change. Your embarrassment grows.

Lils interrupts him, "For your first day, it's quite good! It took Sirius months to fill out his store, right, Jamsie?"

You look at her, grateful for the kind words, and unclench your hands from your apron. You push away the embarrassment and gesture to a small table near the window, "This one is free," you back away, your voice a little shaky as you ask them, "What can I get you?"

"I'll have another Autumn Swirl," James teases you as he staggers over with the girl's hand around his muscular arm. "Lily will have anything with matcha." He laughs and Lily rolls her eyes at him, but then she nods at you.

"Thanks," she says and then smiles. Her smile is the prettiest thing you have ever seen and when you return behind the counter to make their order, you feel stupid. Of course, someone like James is already in a relationship! What were you thinking—developing a school-girl crush on a guy you'd met only hours ago?

You shake your head, successfully diminishing the warmth from your cheeks but only worsening that pit in your stomach as you do your best to focus on the drinks instead of hearing James's, already intoxicating, laughter from across the room.

tags: @nubigenouss

~ THANK YOU FOR READING! this is my first series. I'm nervous but hopefully you like this! very slow burn ;) ik Sirius isn't in this one, but he will be soon! ~

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holyluluslibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Library reblog

Roar & Giggle (2) - Bookstore

Summary: He’s just the worst. Right?

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Bookstoreowner!Reader

Warnings: language, mentions of money problems/pandemic, love-struck Bucky

<< Part 1

Roar & Giggle masterlist

“Good morning, doll,” Bucky says as he casually strolls into your bookstore. “I got you a bagel with cottage cheese and tea for breakfast.”

“I already had breakfast, Mr. Barnes,” you lie. You’re busy checking the latest numbers. “You shouldn’t bring me food.”

#Roar & Giggle (2) - Bookstore #bucky barnes x reader #biker!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #biker!bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x you #biker au #library reblog #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction

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prompt-heaven · 2 years ago

Text

100 different AUs

academic au

alien au

alpha/beta/omega au

amnesia au

apocalypse au

artist au

arranged marriage au

assassin au

athlete au

babysitter/nanny au

bakery au

bartender au

billionaire au

bodyguard au

bodyswap au

bookstore au

bounty hunter au

brother's best friend/dad's best friend au

camgirl au

camp counselor au

chef au

circus au

coffee shop au

cowboy au

cult au

dark au

deserted island au

dog walker au

dystopian au

enemies to lovers/rivals au

fairy tale au

fake relationship au

fantasy au

farm au

firefighter au

fisherman au

flower shop au

friends with benefits au

ghost au

grocery store au

guardian angel au

haunted house au

historical au

hitchhiker au

holiday au

hospital au

hunter/prey au

kidnapping au

law enforcement au

library au

lifeguard au

lumberjack au

mafia/mob au

maid/butler au

magic au

master/slave au

mechanic au

mermaid au

model au

modern au

monster au

mundane au

music store au

neighbour au

office/coworker au

paranormal investigator au

pen pal au

pirate au

prison au

private detective au

reincarnation au

road trip au

rockstar au

roommate au

royalty au

scientist au

sex worker au

single parent au

slasher au

soulmates au

space au

spy au

stalker au

stepcest au

street racer au

sugar daddy au

superhero au

surfer au

tattoo artist au

teacher/professor/tutor au

time travel au

treasure hunter au

undercover au

vampire/werewolf au

veterinarian au

vigilante au

wedding planner au

western au

witch au

yandere au

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polarisjisung · 18 days ago

Text

STUPID CUPID

Synopsis: Jaehyun's always done what he shouldn't—falling in love isn't an exception. Not when he falls for you. Cupid.

wc: 2.5k pairings: jaehyun × fem!cupid! reader genre: fluff, angst, supernatural/cupid au, forbidden love warnings: none! i hope... notes: never written anything like this or anything for any of the neos outside dream so happy valentines day my loves, sending you all lots of love ❣️ this was v rushed im afraid but I was determined to post today so as always f it we ball ! | LIBRARY

Jaehyun has always been reckless. A quiet defiance that lingers in his gaze, a subtle smirk when someone warns him away.

It isn't arrogance—on the contrary.

He knows the weight of consequence, perhaps even a little too well, but something about doing what he shouldn’t always tastes too sweet to resist.

Falling in love is no exception. Not when it’s with you. With Cupid.

The first time you see Jaehyun

It happens on a Tuesday.

A grey skied, slow drifting day, the kind where the air doesn't just smell like, but instead tastes like rain, and the streets shine with the aftermath of a storm.

Jaehyun’s running late, like he usually is, shouldering through the city crowd with cold hands shoved deep into his pockets.

The world continues around him, store signs flickering, car horns blaring, rain pattering, the list goes on.

But it all fades when he sees you a little further down the street. Ethereal, glowing.

For a moment, it feels impossible to look away, like doing so would be an injustice—to himself, or maybe to you. He isn’t sure which.

Either way, he doesn’t. His eyes stayed locked on you, looking at you, like he's trying to figure you out.

You aren’t looking at him though.

You’re looking at them—the couple at the bus stop, their fingers brushing hesitantly, eyes filled with something fragile and waiting, bodies screaming anticipation in every language they knew. Like it was all they knew.

Somehow, Jaehyun, for the first time doesn't roll his eyes at two fools in love, but instead a soft smile creeps across his face and his dimples grow deeper. His gaze lingers, catching every detail of their exchange, and then—he sees it.

Ancient, divine, and impossibly beautiful, yet holding some sort of quiet weight.

Between your fingers, the gold tipped instrument sings like he's never heard before, you hold something he's never seen before, his gaze flickers to you, pure, warm, angelic,

You are something he's never seen before.

The bow in your hands is crafted from celestial gold, its surface shimmering with a glow that shifts between the softest rosy hues and deep molten ambers. Its limbs curve elegantly, etched with delicate, swirling inscriptions in a language older than time, words of love, longing, and destiny.

Jaehyun watches the slow curve of your fingertips against the string—not made of an earthly material. In fact it's like nothing he's ever seen before. The bowstring shimmers like spun moonlight, woven from the threads of fate itself.

When drawn, it sings a soft, haunting melody, not joyous, not sorrowful either, but something in between, a sound that carries the weight of every love story ever written.

To you, this bow means everything, it defines you.

Though sharp and edged, it doesn't feel like a weapon.

It feels more like a promise, simultaneously a burden, a choice.

And sometimes it feels like a curse.

Jaheyun's chest tightens. The couple melt into each other, like whatever hesitation had gnawed at the deepest parts of them had disintegrated in that very moment, in seconds. Just as your arrow had hit.

You step back into the shadows, unseen by the rest of the world, and Jaehyun knows, instinctively, that he shouldn’t follow. That whatever just happened wasn’t meant for his eyes. For human eyes.

But his feet move before his mind has the chance.

The next time Jaehyun sees you

The bell above the door chimes as Jaehyun steps into the bookstore.

It’s quiet inside and the air smells of old paper mixed with something sweet—vanilla, maybe, or the lingering warmth of spilt candle wax.

It’s late, well past the hour most people would wander in, but the lights are still on, pooling in soft, golden halos against the shelves.

And then he sees you.

Fingers trailing over the spines of poetry books, head tilted as though you're listening to something out of reach.

Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate.

This, you, were everything he had come searching for the answers to. He's spent too many nights tossing and turning, questioning if he'd see you again, whoever you are, whatever you are.

Tonight, he'd finally had enough, Jaehyun was determined to get his answers no matter what, but what good were a few books when he had the real deal stood just a few feet away?

You, right in front of him.

The way the dim light catches against your skin, the way the dust motes swirl in the air around you, it’s almost unnatural. Almost too perfect. And it only affirms his beliefs.

"You make people fall in love," he says, matter-of-fact.

You don’t jump.

Instead, you let out a slow, knowing sigh, turning to him with a look that is both ancient and strangely young.

"And you’ve seen too much." He'd seen you.

The words should be a warning. They should make him back away.

But Jaehyun has never been good at listening.

"What happens if Cupid falls in love?" he asks.

Of all questions, you wonder why he picked that one.

And neither, it seems, are you.

Because instead of disappearing, instead of slipping into the shadows like you should, you stay.

Your expression shifts. And your eyes flicker before your lips part to answer. The air between you is heavy with anticipation, unspoken words weighing you both down. Jaehyun searches your eyes for something, resolve perhaps.

"You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to."

Not confirmation, but definitely not denial. He could deal with that.

Jaehyun smiles, slow and deliberate. "I always want the answer."

And just like that, it begins.

Then, you meet him again. And again.

In the beginning, it’s a coincidence.

The kind that shouldn’t happen, but still does.

The brush of your shoulders in a dimly lit cafe, his voice echoing behind you as you walk through the street, shared glances in the reflection of rain-dappled windows.

Then, it’s less of a coincidence. Jaheyun finds you in places he shouldn’t.

In spaces where humans aren’t supposed to linger, aren't supposed to go at all.

But you can't find it in yourself to reprimand him, like you know you should, not when he looks at you with those eyes.

He continues to cross every line he shouldn’t, and you don't stop him. No—you follow.

Jaehyun is a whisper of warmth in the cold edges of your existence, and you let him get too close.

At first, it’s nothing, the slightest brush of fingertips when he gives you something. The ghost of his palm on your back as you weave through crowds. His knee knocking against yours beneath a cafe table.

You think it's habit, human nature, something you don't understand and never will.

But then he does it even when there's no need. It’s accidental, unintentional—until it isn’t.

Even when the two of you are alone, when there's no excuse left but the simplest one.

He just wants to.

"You always do that," you murmur one night, as his hand traces a slow path over your wrist, fingertips barely there.

"Do what?"

His voice is warm, tone playful. Jaehyun knows exactly what.

"You keep touching me."

Jaehyun hums, considering, then slides his fingers between yours. He doesn't interlace them fully, just rests them there, testing.

"You never stop me."

You don’t. You won't. You should.

There are nights where it’s just the two of you and nothing else. Where the world outside is distant, unimportant, and all that exists is the space between his breath and yours.

Nights where Jaehyun pulls you through quiet streets, past dimly lit storefronts and the hush of sleeping buildings, his hand tugging yours in an easy, familiar way. In a way that makes you wish it could be forever.

The air is cold, a brutal reminder, but he's warm, and when he turns to look at you, his eyes are bright, they sparkle. They gleam, with hope, with love, and everything in between.

"Where are we going?" you ask, though it doesn't particularly matter.

Jaheyun grins at you. "Nowhere."

And that is enough.

It's also the truth, one you swallow quicker than you can begin to imagine its consequences. You and Jaehyun—this—wasn't going anywhere.

But for now, maybe you were okay with that. Okay with living in the present if it was all you had. All you’d get.

You find yourselves on a park bench at the edge of the city, the skyline sprawling out before you, beautiful and distant. Jaehyun stretches his arms out across the back of the bench, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. There it is again.

"Tell me something," he says suddenly, voice softer than ever.

"Like what?"

Jaehyun tilts his head, considering. "Something only you would know. Something about love."

You gulp—love.

Eyeing Jaehyun, you exhale, then turn your head to look ahead. And for the first time, you don’t reach for the knowledge written into your bones, engraved into your soul, the wisdom of centuries. No. You just say what you feel. Honest and true.

But that’s your mistake, feeling. Because Cupid is not meant to feel like this. To love.

"Love always ends," you murmur. "Even if it lasts a lifetime, it still ends eventually."

Jaehyun studies you for a long moment, then shifts closer, enough that his shoulder presses against yours, grounding you in his warmth.

"Then let’s make it worth it," he whispers.

A quiet ache takes root in your chest but you nod regardless.

That ache grows when he finds you on the bridge overlooking the river, when he walks beside you in the hours before dawn, when his fingers brush against yours, casual but deliberate.

Jaehyun doesn't ask for more than you can give. But when you feel the weight of his gaze, he doesn't need to.

"You look at me like I’m real," you tell him one evening, voice barely above a whisper.

He frowns, his brows knitting together as his lips come forward into a pout. "Aren’t you?"

You close your eyes. "Not like you."

Jaehyun takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours. He is warm, unbearably so, still you don’t pull away.

"But I know this is real," he says softly.

It shouldn't be.

But Jaehyun has always had a way of bending fate.

"You need to stop this."

The voice is not Jaehyun’s. It is older, heavier, woven with something you don’t want to name but recognise too well not to.

Eros stands before you, dark-eyed and unimpressed. He looks at you like a flame too close to kindling. Disquiet. Distraught.

"You’ve been seen."

You swallow, resisting the urge to turn your gaze towards where Jaehyun is waiting—down the street, unaware.

"I know what I’m doing," you lie.

Eros tilts his head. "Do you?"

You say nothing.

His voice softens, just slightly. "You were made for love, not to be loved."

Something inside you twists. "What happens if I do?"

Eros sighs. "You already know."

But knowing has never stopped you before.

That night, Jaehyun kisses you.

On a night where the sky hangs heavy with stars. And despite everything you know, you let him.

It's slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that makes the world tilt.

You have guided love a thousand times, but this is the first time you have ever felt it.

And it terrifies you.

You should have known.

You always knew it was destined to fail. From the first moment you saw him, from the first time your eyes met, you knew. Jaehyun, beautiful, reckless, would burn through your existence like a comet, and when it was done, nothing would remain but the ashes of something that was never real.

But still, you let yourself walk beside him. Let yourself breathe the same air, let him touch you as though you could ever belong to him. You tried to pretend, to deceive yourself into believing in something that could never exist. Because that’s what love does—it convinces you that fate doesn’t matter, that rules are meant to be broken.

It was foolish. It was always going to end this way.

And now, you feel it. The way the world shifts around you. The weight in the air, heavy with inevitability.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to steady your breath. Trying to brace yourself. Because you know what’s coming. You’ve known it all along.

Eros does not speak when he appears. The look in his eyes is enough.

Jaehyun steps between the both of you, before you can stop him. "Leave her alone. This isn’t fair.”

And suddenly, you wish you had never met.

You suck in a breath, something cracking inside your chest.

Jaehyun. He doesn’t understand. He can’t. Love has always been cruel, always been a price paid in something irretrievable. He is fighting a battle that was lost before it even began.

Eros tilts his head, considering him with something close to pity. "Fair?" The word drips from his lips like something foreign, "Do you think love is ever fair?"

Jaehyun clenches his fists. "Then punish me. Not her."

The way he says it, without hesitation, without fear—it destroys you.

You’ve spent eternity untouched, unseen, a ghost in the spaces between other people’s happy lives. Love has always passed through you, never lingered, never stayed. And yet, here Jaehyun is, offering himself up like a sacrifice, as if your existence is something worth bleeding for.

You wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d run. You wish he’d let you go.

Because you already know how this ends.

“Punish me instead.” Jaehyun repeats, strength unwavering.

"You do not understand what you’re asking."

Jaehyun’s breath shakes. "I don’t care."

Eros’ fingers tighten at his sides.

And then, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it.

"I know.”

Eros sighs, and for a fleeting second, it almost looks like regret flickers in his eyes. But then he lifts his hand higher, and the moment shatters.

Pain.

It rips through you, searing, unbearable. Your breath catches, a choked, broken sound, as your body crumples under the weight of it. Jaehyun barely catches you in time, his arms locking around you, desperate, as if he can hold you together when the universe itself is tearing you apart.

"Stop" His voice is hoarse, wrecked. His grip tightens, fingers digging into you like an anchor. "Please, don’t do this—”

But Eros does not stop.

Because this is your punishment.

You were made to love, but not to be loved.

And you have broken the rule.

When you wake, the world is different.

Jaehyun is beside you, hands trembling. "You’re okay."

But when you reach for him— you feel nothing.

Jaehyun realises it before you do. He sees it in your eyes. The moment it all slips from your memory like sand through your fingers.

A curse.

You were made to love, and now, you never will again.

And when his heart breaks, you can't even wish you could feel yours do the same. You can't feel at all.

But Jaehyun can. He can feel it, see it, taste it, and he realises then— defiance had never been so bitter.

tags: @yizhrt @suzayaaa @nanawrlds @sinisxtea @dearlyminhyung @flaminghotyourmom @jisworlds @jenobubbles @nctdreamchaser @lotties-readings @mystverse @chenlezip @blondemrk

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