#that they decided to remove the ice wall

[fruitless-vain]

In a continuation to “my neighbours 50yo sons refuse to use her driveway and always walk up mine” I built a solid two foot wall of ice and snow between our houses so that they HAD to use her driveway

Instead of doing the easy thing and just using her driveway they decided to use their snow blower to break apart the entire wall just so they could continue to use my driveway (which totally makes loads of sense 🙄)

I rebuilt the wall and they decided to then dig out a walkway in her grass pressed right against my driveway. Okay fine! On your property finally! I’ll take it! So I started rebuilding my ice wall, but we don’t have much new snow yet so it’s like three inches high, on my driveway to continue to enforce the “drag dead deer up your own property and keep your scratch risks away from my new car”

Despite them literally creating their own path on their own property THEYRE STILL WALKING UP MINE WHAT THE FUCK

To top it off they’ve parked a trailer on the road as close as physically possible to my driveway and a good three feet away from the sidewalk so backing out and driving off is such a gd process rn

[flowersforbucky]

it's nice to have a friend

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.2k

summary: you're having the worst period you've had in a long time. bucky is determined to help you feel better.

author's note: this is a silly and smutty piece that i felt compelled to write when i got my period a few days ago!

warnings/tags: smutty, reader has a period, langauge, use of a vibrator, nipple stimulation, no use of y/n, use of a cbd gummy lol, 18+ only

Approximately every twenty-eight days, you curse the fact that you were born with a uterus and vagina. 

This month, however, you were cursing that fact a bit earlier than expected. Cycle day twenty three, to be exact. 

Your periods never start this early, but as soon as you opened your eyes at six o'clock this morning, you knew what had occured while you were asleep. You could feel the moisture that soaked through your underwear and pajama pants before you could turn on the light to see that your white sheets had been dyed bright crimson beneath where you'd been laying. 

One load of laundry with extra stain remover and as much Pamprin max strength as one can safely take later, you are curled up on the couch of the compound's living room with a cup of coffee and a heating pad turned up so high that you risk first degree burns. 

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you today? We can go to Coney Island another time,” Natasha tries to reason with you once again. 

“I promise I'll be okay here,” you assure her. “These cramps are killing me, I won't be any fun to hang out with today. Go, enjoy yourself. When is the next time that you'll all have a free day and weather this perfect?” You gesture towards the sunshine streaming through the living room windows. 

“If you're sure,” she caves after a few moments of hesitation. “Promise I’ll win you that stuffed panda that you wanted so badly last time.” 

“I am going to hold you to that,” you tell her in a faux-serious tone. 

After Natasha and the rest of your friends have left for their day of riding rollercoasters and eating hotdogs on the boardwalk, you turn on your comfort show and settle in for an unexciting and uncomfortable day by yourself. 

A few hours later, you decide you've sat in the same position for long enough - you can practically feel your body morphing to the sofa. You're walking to the kitchen to refill your water bottle and find something to snack on when you collide with what feels like a brick wall. 

A brick wall that happens to smell really, really fucking good. 

You step back, finding that the brick wall is staring at you with a confused look on his face. 

"What are you doing here?” Bucky asks as he glances you over from head to toe, taking in your choice of apparel - baggy sweats that are about two sizes too big for you, a cropped tank, and fuzzy slippers. You resist the urge to cross your arms over your stomach - you didn't think anyone else would be here today and the tank top you're wearing doesn't exactly conceal the period bloat you're currently experiencing. 

"I live here,” you snap, a bit harsher than necessary. “What are you doing here?” 

“I also live here,” he says, returning your attitude. You roll your eyes, maneuvering your way around where he blocks the doorway. 

“What I mean,” he continues as he turns around, following you into the kitchen. “Is why aren't you with everyone at Coney Island?” 

“I could ask you the same question,” you challenge, pouring some more ice into your cup. “Steve never shuts up about the glory days, all the time the two of you spent at Coney Island. I'm surprised you're not there with him right now.” 

He huffs a laugh, pulling out one of the barstools at the kitchen's giant island and taking a seat. “We did spend a ridiculous amount of time at Coney Island,” he admits, his voice almost wistful. He hesitates before continuing, staring down at his hands as he traces a metal crevice on his left palm.

"But I haven't been to Coney Island since the forties. Guess I'm kinda scared it won't live up to my memories of it. Plus, I had a lot of laundry to catch up on, so..” he shrugs, trailing off. 

You're taken aback by the honesty of his explanation. “Yeah, well,” you start awkwardly, turning away from him to search through a cabinet for something to eat. “I can't say that I know what it was like in the forties, but it's one of my favorite places, present day.” 

“Then why are you hanging out by yourself while all of your friends are at one of your favorite places?” 

Damn it, you curse internally. He's really not going to drop this. What should I say, that my uterine lining is falling out in clumps? 

You grab a bag of freeze-dried fruit from the cabinet before turning back to face him, trying to come up with an excuse. 

“I just didn't sleep great–” you come to an abrupt stop in the middle of your sentence as a blinding pain shoots through your lower abdomen. The bag of fruit falls to the floor as you steady yourself on the ledge of the counter with one hand, clutching your stomach with the other. 

Bucky rises from his seat in an instant, closing the several feet of distance between the two of you in one big step. 

"Are you okay? What’s going on?” His hands are both extended to you in an offer of help. 

“I'm fine,” you say through a sharp intake of breath. “It’s.. it’s just cramps. Bad cramps,” you force the words out, propping your elbows up on the countertop to relax your body weight. 

“Oh,” he says as realization dawns on him. He bends down to grab the bag of fruit that lays next to your feet, and then places it on the table in front of you. “I guess that answers my question, then,” he adds, referring to why you didn't go to Coney Island. 

“Ya think?” You stand back upright, grabbing your snack and water bottle off of the counter. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have a busy day of bed-rotting ahead of me.” 

“Some exercise would help,” he calls when you're about to exit the kitchen. “Laying in bed won't do much for you. A little bit of light exercise to release some beta-endorphins, maybe an abdominal massage–” 

“Are you really man-splaining menstrual cycle pain management to me right now?” You ask, slowly turning to face him with an incredulous look on your face. “I wasn't aware that you had a medical license or that I asked for your opinion.” 

“Just trying to help, sweetheart,” he shrugs with a mischievous grin. 

“If you want to help, you can go get the Italian food that I'm craving and give me an abdominal massage yourself,” you practically spit at him. “Otherwise, keep the unsolicited advice to yourself and fuck off.” 

You turn back around and all but run out of the room before you can process the shocked, albeit pleased look on his face.  

After you've closed your bedroom door behind you (with perhaps a bit more force than necessary), you sink into the fresh sheets on your bed and shove several pieces of apricot into your mouth. 

Rationally, you knew that Bucky's advice was solid, and that he was just trying to get a reaction out of you. That's just the kind of friendship that the two of you have. Sarcastic, teasing and occasionally… tension-filled. 

You definitely didn't help the matter by telling him to massage your abdomen, but what does he expect when he suggests something as horrible as exercising during a time that you simply want nothing more than to melt into your mattress? 

Your cell phone chimes from the pocket of your sweatpants. You dig it out and look at the text displayed across your lock screen. 

Bucky Barnes: What kind of Italian food, specifically? 

You would never admit it to him, but the corners of your mouth tug upwards into a smirk as you read his message. 

You type: Don't you have a lot of laundry to catch up on? and press send. The message is marked as “read” right away. 

He types. And types. And types some more – until those three dots indicating a message in progress disappear. 

Whatever. You click your phone off and toss it somewhere in the covers around you. 

The next couple hours are spent sitting under the near scalding stream of your shower, and then reading on your Kindle in the dark. As jealous as you are that your friends are undoubtedly having a blast today, you honestly don't mind your current situation - aside from feeling like your organs are being pulled out of your vagina, you hardly ever have days with zero obligations other than to just relax in whatever way you see fit. 

A strong knock on your door causes you to lose your place on the page. 

"You didn't give me a legitimate answer so I hope you like gnocchi, or eggplant parmesan, or traditional lasagna, or extra breadsticks..” 

“You know, it's not funny to joke about carbs to someone when they are–” 

You come to a stop in the middle of your sentence when you swing your door open to see him holding several plastic bags. An aroma of garlic and herbs hits you in the face. 

Oh. Not a joke, then. 

He extends one of the bags to you with his big, blue puppy dog eyes. You take it from him, opening the door further as an invitation to enter your bedroom. 

"Consider this a peace offering,” he says, placing the other bags of food on your bed and perching awkwardly on the edge of your mattress. You close the door behind you, walking back to where you had previously been lounging on the bed. 

“I'm sorry for being a smartass,” he adds more genuinely. “I just.. didn't like seeing you in pain. That's all.” 

“This is far from my first period,” you shrug, not meeting his stare. “You get used to it after a while. But consider yourself forgiven.” 

He gives you a small smile when you finally look up at him. He grabs a smaller bag that you hadn't noticed him carrying, one that is visibly less full than the others. He reaches inside, pulling out a small jar that he hands over to you. 

Your brows furrow as you inspect it closely. “CBD gummies?” You ask, your brows now raising quizzically. You open the jar, popping one of the pink, cube-shaped gummies into your mouth. “Watermelon flavored CBD gummies?” 

You notice the faintest trace of blush bloom across his cheeks. “I take them sometimes to help me sleep,” he starts, fiddling with some of the beading on your comforter. “But they can help with all different kinds of pain too, so I just thought you might like some.” 

You close the jar, placing it on your bedside table before reaching over and grabbing his flesh hand in yours. “Thank you, Bucky,” you say, giving his hand a squeeze and then releasing it. “Really. I appreciate all of this.” You try to ignore the jolt of electricity that buzzes through you when your skin comes in contact with his. His hand is both softer and warmer than you would have imagined. It brings you back to the last words that you spewed at him in the kitchen earlier. 

"A shit ton of pasta and CBD gummies,” you snort a laugh. “Would I be pushing my luck if I asked for that abdominal massage too?” You say it in a way that sounds halfway serious, halfway joking. 

“If that's what you want,” he says lowly, turning to angle his body towards you on the bed. “Then just say the word.” 

The air in your room suddenly feels suffocating. 

It is what you want - but you're at a loss for words. So instead of a verbal response, you scoot over to the middle of the bed, closer to where he sits on the opposite side. You lay down so that your back is flat against the mattress, your head propped up by a single pillow. 

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, but he quickly wipes the look of astonishment from his features. He moves so that he's sitting directly next to your legs, giving him a proper angle to put his hands on your lower stomach. 

You're wearing the same sweatpants and tank top from earlier, having thrown the outfit back on after your shower. The loose sweatpants hang low enough to expose your hip bones and the edge of your underwear. 

The intimacy of the entire situation hits you the second that his hands make contact with your skin. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmurs, perhaps sensing your nerves. “Or if I do anything that doesn't feel good.” 

Your eyes shut instinctively at the polar opposite sensations of his flesh and vibranium hands. Skin and metal, fire and ice.

“I will,” you assure him. Your words come out breathier than intended. 

There's an immediate relief in your lower stomach as he rubs languid circles across your midriff. It's a feeling beyond pleasure as the cramps fade the more he touches you. 

His vibranium pinky dances along the waistband of your underwear, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin. You try to focus on the relief he's bringing you - not the fact that you're wearing a thin tank top that leaves so much of your skin on display, giving him a clear view of the goosebumps that he's caused. 

He continues with the precise motions until the pain in your abdomen has faded nearly entirely - you feel so good that you can't stop yourself from letting out the smallest moan when his flesh hand applies just the right amount of pressure near your pelvis. 

You know he heard it - there's no way he didn't. Just as you know there's no way that he doesn't notice your fully hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your tank top. 

You keep your eyes closed, terrified to meet his gaze in this state. You dread the moment that you feel his hands pull away from your skin. 

"You know,” he starts, his voice possessing a strained edge. “I don't think this is good enough for you.” 

Your eyes shoot open, looking at him in a nervous confusion. There's a glimmer in his eyes that you can't quite pinpoint - his stare trailing to your bedside table on the opposite side of you. “But I think I do know what could make you feel much better.” 

“What are you talking about?” Your voice quivers as you follow his stare. You're not sure what he's looking at - all that sits on your nightstand is the CBD gummies he had just given you, your Kindle, a few books, a bottle of lotion, and the Himalayan salt lamp that paints you both in an orange glow. 

He smirks before leaning across you - keeping his vibranium hand pressed firmly on your belly as he uses his flesh hand to pull open the drawer of the small table. 

“Hey! What are you–” but he retrieves the object he’s looking for before you can finish questioning him. You freeze at what he's holding in his hand. 

Your vibrator. Your glittery, lavender colored vibrator. 

“How the fuck did you–” 

“Do you think I can't hear you using this from across the hallway late at night?” He grins smugly. “That I can't hear your little whimpers when you think everyone's asleep?” 

Your face heats up a hundred degrees. You don't know whether to be infuriated or massively turned on. 

Both. You're definitely feeling a mix of both. 

He clicks the power button, turning on the device to its lowest setting. He watches you for a moment, giving you ample time to tell him to fuck off.

Instead, you once again relax against the pillow, your body going limp for him. You spread your legs the slightest bit. 

He takes this as his signal to proceed. Not taking his eyes off of your face, he trails the head of the wand from your lower stomach and over the fabric of your sweatpants until he reaches the apex of your thighs. Your nipples pucker once again, your thighs clenching around the tip of the vibrator. 

Bucky moves the device in a circular motion, making your back arch off the bed and your head tip back. 

How is it that it feels better when he massages you with it through your fucking pants than it does when you use it on your bare pussy? 

You hear the clicking of a button again, and the force of the vibration over your clothed cunt increases. You grind down on the device, desperate for friction. 

Bucky watches you with something akin to pride on his face. 

“You know how I told you to tell me if I do something you don't like?” He asks as he pushes the head of the wand directly down on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure. 

“Yeah,” you answer - it comes out like a moan that you'd hear in a porno.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Remember that.” 

Before you can clear your head enough to wonder what he means, he's tugging up the cotton fabric of your tank top and exposing your breasts. 

You gasp at the sensation of the cool air blowing from the AC coming in contact with your already hard nipples. Bucky leans forward, keeping the vibrator on your core, and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. 

Your hand immediately goes to his hair, tugging the soft brown locks in your fingers to keep him in place. His free hand grasps your other breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. 

The combination of pleasure radiating from your pussy and his hand and mouth on you is fucking perfect. Fucking perfect, and all too much. 

You clench your thighs together, riding against the vibrator until you feel warmth spreading through your lower belly. 

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you moan - he groans when you say his name, the vibration sending you tumbling over the edge. You come hard, possibly harder than any other orgasm you've had in your life, thoroughly soaking your panties. 

When you've finished writhing beneath him, Bucky pulls back, removing both his mouth and the vibrator. He clicks the device off, tossing it towards the foot of your bed. 

You're panting, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process what the fuck just happened when you hear Bucky let out a low chuckle. 

Your eyes snap to him, finding that he looks thoroughly pleased with himself. 

"Can't say that's how I expected the day to go when I decided to sit this Coney Island trip out,” he sighs. 

“You can say that again.” You sit upright, bending your legs and crossing them at the ankles. You lean forward, tugging your shirt back into place before pulling one of the bags of food to you. 

"We should go sometime soon. Together,” you add, somewhat nervously. You aren't sure why - the guy just gave you the best orgasm of your life (and barely even touched you). 

“Are you asking me on a date?” that sly smile reappears. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I suppose I am.” 

"Then my answer is yes. But only if you share some of this food with me.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

thanks so much for reading!!! can anyone tell that i really fucking love food by how often i incorporate it into my writing? 😅

[angstywaifu]

No Strings Attached - Garrick Tavis

Request: reader is fwb with Garrick you could even include some spice and they start to fall for each other but they’re not exclusive so one night she sees him talking to another girl and she feels extremely hurt seeing it. then she decides to ice him out and branch out to hang out with other people and he sees her talk to another guy and gets really jealous and feels very possessive. and then they get into a massive angsty fight Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Unprotected Sex (P in V). Angst and fighting. Jealousy.

Masterlist | Support Me

“Cmon sweetheart, just one more. For me.” Garrick whispers in my ear as his fingers dig into my hips as he guides me up and down on his length.

As per usual, Garrick was determined to get another one out of me. This would be the fourth? No, fifth? Fuck, I had no idea. My brain all foggy from the amount of times he’d pulled another orgasm from me. He was addicted to pulling them from me, and I was addicted to the way he made me felt.

The familiar knot in my stomach tightens again as I dig my nails into his shoulder as my lead lulls forward. Garrick notices the shift, grabbing tightly onto my waist as he holds me up, slamming his hips into mine hard and fast. I barely had time to process what was coming as I shatter in his arms, my whole weight resting in Garrick’s hands as I go limp. Eyes rolling back into my head, mouth open in a silent moan as my legs tremble either side of his. I feel Garrick shudder beneath me, his thrusts faltering as he comes undone beneath me.

He gathers me in his arms rolling us to the side as he lays my head down on my pillow, whimpering at the loss of him as he removes himself from me. I barely register him cleaning me up and tucking me into bed as I fall victim to my exhaustion and fall asleep.

The next day it’s back to normal. Everyone none the wiser to how Garrick and I had spent most of our night as we walk the halls the next day. Which is how I wanted it. Garrick and I were just friends. Friends who hooked up a few times a week. An arrangement that worked for both of us since it had started last year. No strings attached, no feelings and no exclusivity. Though neither of us had hooked up with anyone else despite this.

”Quinn and I are having a girls night in her room, did you want to come?” Imogen asks me as we leave the gym, both of us in desperate need of a shower after the training session we had just done.

I turn my head to look at her and tell her I’m in, but two figures behind her across the courtyard near the Rotunda catch my eyes. Imogen turns to look, both of us watching Garrick as he leans up against the wall talking to girl in second wing. I watch as he raises a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. I don’t miss the way she tips her head downwards slightly, and I’d bet any money she’s blushing. I instantly see red. Wanting to march over there and pull her away from him, tell her to stay away. I shouldn’t feel like this. I shouldn’t want to do that. We were just friends. Friends who slept together. Nothing more. Why the hell did I feel like this?

”Sorry, I’ve got plans.” I tell her in the most monotone voice I’ve heard leave my lips as I turn and make my way to the dorms.

Another year done and over. Thank god. I’d been craving a drink since seeing Garrick talking to that girl two weeks ago. Since then I’d been avoiding him, which was pretty easy considering we’d all been sent away for War Games for five days and we were in different Wings. But since that night I’d opted to hanging out with my squad, mainly Imogen and Quinn. Something I knew Garrick had noticed as Imogen had told me Garrick had asked about me after I’d walked off when he’d approached our group at challenges. Even now I can feel his eyes on me across the room. It was not like me to ignore him like this, but I honestly couldn’t trust me feelings.

Movement next to me pulls me from my thoughts, one of the first year repeats sitting next to me. I remembered him from the start of the year. The scattering of freckles across his face had always stood out to me. He’d been apart of our squad till he hadn’t been chosen at Threshing. Which was a shame, from what Quinn and Imogen had told me he was one of the best in our squad.

”How was war games?” He asks me as he fills up his cup from one of the pitchers from the middle of the table.

”Tiring as usual. There’s only one time of year I will ever have thoughts on wanting to be back here, and that’s war games.” I tell him with a smile as he fills up my now empty cup.

We fall into conversation easily, laughing and telling stories and jokes. Something I had missed during the last week. And it was nice to be talking to someone new. Something to take my mind off what had happened. Though it’s not long before my mind wanders back as a tall looming figure hovers behind me, casting a shadow over me and onto the cadet I now know as Sawyer. I watch as his eyes widen as he looks behind me. A look I associated very well with Garrick.

”We need to talk.” He growls out from behind me.

I can practically feel the anger rolling off him against my back. I can see how worried Sawyer looks. Yeah, he was pissed.

”What do you want to talk about?” I toss over my shoulder before chugging the rest of my drink, definitely needing more alcohol in my system to deal with whatever was about to happen.

”In private.”

I turn and look at him. Yep. He was pissed. His eyes are narrowed at me, his jaw ticking from the strain of clenching it. Great. I tear my gaze from his, standing and pushing past him as I head towards the door, leaving Sawyer behind. I push through the door leading into the rotunda, barely making it a few steps before Garrick grabs my arm.

”What the hell was that?” He snaps, gesturing back towards the dining hall.

”Really? I could be asking you the same about you and the cadet a few weeks back in the courtyard.” I snap back as I gesture towards the door leading towards the courtyard.

His brow furrows as he looks towards where I point. “What are you talking about?”

Anger flares with in me. “That blonde who you had in the courtyard a few nights before War Games started. Tucking her hair behind her ear as she blushed and giggled at you.”

”So that’s why you’ve been ignoring me.” He drawls in a monotone voice.

”I haven’t been ignoring you. We’ve been away at War Games if you hadn’t noticed.” I retort as I walk a few steps away, needing to clear my head of the anger that was raging through me.

”Says the one who has walked away whenever I’ve joined the group and has been mysteriously absent from my bed.” He states as he walks over and steps in front of me.

”What do you want Garrick? Want me to confess that even though this isn’t technically exclusive that I’m a little jealous you start showing interest in another girl for the first time since this started happening? That maybe I realised I need to put some space between us and put effort into my other friends or find some new ones?” My voice echoing around the empty rotunda as I glare up at him.

”Please he didn’t want to be your friend.” He scoffs at me.

”Well I wouldn’t know because you couldn’t resist playing possessive guard dog after I start talking to a guy that isn’t you!” My voice cracks at the end, a tear rolling down my cheek that Garrick’s hazel eyes track.

”Trust me, there’s only one things guys want from girls in here.” Garrick looming over me as he takes a step towards me.

I scoff and shake my head at me. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that. Hope she can warm your bed till she also figures that out.”

”Sweethe-”

”Don’t. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” I snap at him before turning and storming back into the rowdy dining hall, wiping away another tear that rolls down my cheek.

[arilevenatz]

By Her Side

Pairing: Bodyguard! Mingi x princess!reader

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

Word count: 8.5k

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

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

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

[please-destroy]

Mittens

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

.

Tony laughed loudly when he first saw the grey woollen hat. 

It had a white pom pom on the end and Tony snorted when he caught sight of it bouncing.

Natasha paused momentarily and her eyes flickered over to him, sipping coffee as he read over a Stark Pad.

‘Sorry.’ He grinned unashamedly. ‘It’s just not very Black Widow.’

Natasha rolled her eyes pointedly, before letting your hesitant tug on her hand pull her away.

In the elevator, you watched the quiet embarrassment roll through her. Natasha regarded herself in the mirrored walls as you descended the skyscraper. Her eyes lingered on the hat. 

Her gaze wasn’t critical. You almost wished it was. There was something childish in her vulnerability. You read the indecision in the way she bit her lip. 

Your heart seized with a strange sadness. You’d never really seen how Natasha viewed herself, not until then. Tony’s comment had thrown her completely off.

Just before you reached the ground floor, Natasha’s hand raised to remove the hat. You instinctively lifted your fingers to brush her wrist. She froze at your touch.

‘Leave it.’ You murmured, taking the moment for a brief kiss of her cheek. ‘You look great.’

Her voice was husky in uncertain disagreement.

‘I look ridiculous.’

‘You look cute.’ You promised truthfully, your lips lingering next to her cheek. ‘That’s not a crime.’

Natasha took a small breath and you heard the shakiness of it. Your arm wrapped around her side. 

You met her gaze in the mirror, just before the doors parted.

‘Cute.’ You repeated, enjoying the way her eyes sparkled as her smile returned. 

.

You couldn’t be certain, but you had a suspicion that the moment in the elevator didn’t leave Natasha’s mind. You knew for sure that it didn’t leave yours.

You settled together into your planned day of Christmas shopping as you wandered through the cold, busy streets. You passed a clothes store with a large winter sale on, and both slowed down to peer into the window. Inside the store, you walked thoughtlessly in sync. Together, you roamed through the aisles with that easy familiarity that comes with time. 

When you found the mittens, you held them up questioningly to her. They were the same silver grey as her woolen hat.

Natasha’s face smoothed immediately. You watched her begin to dismiss your suggestion automatically as a joke. 

Then, you saw the same lingering uncertainty return to her face.

‘I don’t know.’ She admitted suddenly and her voice was raw. 

Customers weaved around you, uninterested in anything but the retail deals on offer.

‘I’ve never had mittens before.’ Natasha told you, unwarranted embarrassment flitting into her expression. 

Your stomach flipped and you didn’t know why. Maybe it was her shyness at such a minor secret.

‘Then, these are a must buy.’ You determined with sudden decisiveness, taking her hand and leading her to the checkout.

.

The cashier easily read your relationship as you approached the counter. Despite the bustle around you, she gave you both a small smile, handing the mittens purposefully over to Natasha.

Maybe it was the cold, but Natasha’s cheeks were glowing pink before you’d left the store.

Her woolen mittens matched her hat. Her pleased smile matched her eyes.

That was when you decided that the day was going to be something else.

.

Natasha’s brow furrowed in confusion when your course altered. You led her purposefully across the busy street, away from the storefronts. 

She first protested as you weaved through the pop up stalls, selling anything from winter themed street-food to Christmas tree baubles. She reminded you about the presents that you both still needed to buy.

As you approached the ice rink, Natasha stopped in her tracks entirely. She stood a few feet away from you with wide eyes.

Her head shook slowly. 

‘No.’ She whispered, her mittens slipping self consciously into her coat pockets. ‘I don’t know how.’

You shrugged, keeping your eyes steady on her.

‘We don’t have to.’ You promised, never wanting to scare her. 

You closed the distance between you carefully. Natasha’s lips were pressed together. The same nervous indecision worried her expression. 

‘I don’t know how.’ She repeated in a small voice, the words almost an apology.

You brushed her shoulders gently.

‘That’s not a crime.’ You hummed softly. ‘Do you want to try?’

Natasha’s stare was sudden and piercing. There was something unashamed now about her exposed vulnerability. She didn’t mind that you had seen her quiet fear.  

Pride stamped your chest as you realised that Natasha knew you were on her team.

You anticipated her answer before she said it.

Before anything else, Natasha was brave.

‘Okay.’ She determined, a soft mitten seeking out your own gloved hand.

.

The next few minutes moved with surprising simplicity. You brought back the skates from the rental desk.

You laced up your pair quickly, excited to get on the ice.

Natasha started laughing gently beside you.

You looked over and caught her grin. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. She raised her mittened hands helplessly and you started smiling too.

You knelt before her, tying up her laces with extra care. 

‘Thank you.’ Natasha murmured as you finished. You glanced up, surprised by the rush of warmth you felt from her gaze. 

A mitten brushed your cheek softly, and you felt your smile widen at the touch.

.

As you stepped onto the ice, Natasha’s grip was tight on your hand. 

The fairy lights above threaded together like a wedding arch.

You took an extra step forward, ready to skate. 

Natasha hesitated and you turned around, ready to skate slowly backwards as she practiced.

Your breath caught as you watched the lights sparkle in her eyes. The green and gold dappled together and Natasha seemed ethereal.

You could read the worry on her face before she said it aloud.

There was something inexplicable about the glowing softness of her. The woolen hat, the ringlets, the reddened cheeks.

Natasha’s lips parted as she exhaled anxiously.

‘I love you.’ You told her, because it was the only thing to do.

Natasha’s breath caught and her eyes sparkled impossibly more.

‘That’s not a crime.’ She considered aloud, her grin teasing.

You kissed her gently, wanting to live in this moment forever. 

She tasted much warmer than you’d expected. 

When your lips parted, Natasha hummed in satisfaction. Her forehead affectionately touched yours. The feeling of being entirely wanted spread over you like a blanket.

Natasha wobbled on the ice, but you held her steady. 

Christmas music crackled over the overhead speakers.

For a moment, there were only the bright lights and the pair of you. 

Then, with alarming speed, two teenagers skated past. You both startled.

Natasha sighed gently as she extricated herself from your hold. 

‘Come on.’ She said, taking your hand resolutely in her mittened one.

‘It’s time to go fall on my ass.’

[rafey-baby]

sweet treat 4

construction worker!rafe and shy!reader spending their day off together (as one does) but rafe simply can not keep his hands off her and maybe she just really needs him...

c/w: fluff, rafe being a tease, semi-public thigh riding, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.9k

ugh i have such a soft spot for him

series masterlist

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s a tranquil Tuesday; they’re strolling around town and soaking up the last lemony rays of the August sun, before autumn drops all the marmalade leaves and brings a chilly breeze along with its visit.  

The balmy weather of the sunlit afternoon coaxes her to remove her cardigan; a featherlight fabric she brought in case the wind decided to pick up. However, she doesn’t need it now, not when it’s so pleasantly mellow and thermal. And without a word, Rafe reaches an arm out and plucks the piece of clothing from her, casually throwing it over his shoulder and holding it for her.  

She mumbles out a soft thank you, and even if the thin material really doesn’t weigh a thing and it wouldn’t have been a bother to hold onto it herself, she still feels all gooey inside from the sentiment.  

They have lunch at her favorite place; a small picturesque restaurant with leafy vines and scarlet roses trickling down the brick wall as they sit outside on a little patio, enjoying their meals with cheery bluebirds chirping and the passing laughter of pedestrians on the lively streets as their background music. And when their tummies are full of yummy food, they decide to get ice cream.

But as they’re padding along the pavement and she’s mindlessly licking her cone, some of the sweet treat drips down her chin without her noticing.  

“You’re so messy,” Rafe tuts and reaches out to grab her jaw in his hand, angling her chin to face him before swiping a thumb under her bottom lip—catching the cold dessert and tucking the digit into his mouth, humming when the strawberry ice cream melts on his tongue. 

Her eyes round out at the nearly obscene sight.  

“Mm tha’s good, but mine’s better,” he thinks out loud before laving his tongue over his own mint chocolate chip flavor.  

He notices her gaze linger, the corners of his mouth tugging up. “Want some?” 

“Uh…no. It tastes like toothpaste,” she complains, trying to clear her suddenly foggy mind with a shake of her head.

“Yeah, but in a good way,” he grins. 

“There’s no good way for ice cream to taste like toothpaste,” her brows crease. 

“There is, alright? Here, try it,” and instead of offering his cone to her like a normal person, he dips his thumb (the one that was just in his mouth) into the frozen delicacy and pushes it past her lips before she has the chance to refuse. 

A sound of surprise escapes her throat when he presses down on her tongue, letting her get a proper taste of the minty sweetness. He lingers for a moment too long because suddenly, there’s an itch in his lower abdomen, the sight of her sucking on his thumb urging him to push another digit in, make her gag around his fingers.  

He clears his throat, an attempt to shake the thoughts away before he’s pulling his thumb out from her greedy little mouth, no complaints or grumbling about toothpaste following after. She merely blinks up at him, seemingly having lost the ability to speak with her doe eyes all dumb.

“S’good, right?” he asks, a mocking lilt to his tone. 

“Mhm,” she manages out, brain mushy and mind clouding over with a starry haze that seems to follow her for the rest of their walk, merely nodding and humming out responses to his questions while he finds it all entirely too amusing, unable to wipe the taunting smile off his face.  

When a group of people pass them by on the narrow sidewalk, Rafe settles a heavy palm on her waist, pulling her closer and preventing her from stumbling into them. However, instead of removing his hold on her after they’ve successfully bypassed them, he opts to slip a warm hand in the back pocket of her jeans; tugging her to his side once again. And she really can’t contain the stupid smile from pulling at her lips in response.

Absentmindedly, he continues on with whatever story he was telling her (she stopped listening the moment she felt his touch on her) as if this is all completely mundane for him and they aren’t walking around like an enamored couple right now.  

Then, as if for good measure, he mindlessly squeezes her ass with the hand stuffed in her back pocket, causing her to look up him, but there’s merely a lazy grin hanging on the raspberry mouth she remembers kissing just the other day on his couch. Her brain nearly short-circuits and she has half the mind to scold him. After all, they’re in public and he’s practically groping her.

However, she’s unable to open her mouth when he gazes down at her— his eyes mirroring morning dew underneath the amber glow of the waking sunbeams.

“So, what do you think?” the question suddenly breaches her eardrums, making her pause.

“About…what?”  

An amused chuckle tumbles from his throat. “Said your boss wanted to renovate the cafe, right? Could, uh, help with that, give her a discount ‘n shit?” 

“Oh. That’d be— great, yeah. I’ll make sure to…let her know,” she barely manages out because his palm resting on her ass is making her thighs press together and it’s getting more and more difficult to inhale and exhale like a regular human by every passing second.

Once they’re back in the shelter of his truck, instead of starting the engine, he turns to look at her, causing her to shift ungracefully in the leather seat, trying to ignore the ache deep in her marrow that’s been bothering her the whole way back.

And since he’s wearing shorts, her eyes zone in on his thighs, heavy lids blinking as she tries to avoid his stare. 

“You want somethin’?” he raises his brows.

“Hm? No… why would I—”

“You think I don’t see the way you keep lookin’ at me?” he rasps out. “Been feelin’ a little needy after you sucked on m’thumb, haven’t you?”  

“I…um—” 

“Bet you’re so sticky right now, must be uncomfortable at this point, no?” his face creases in faux concern as a faint whine leaves her. 

“C’mere, yeah?” he encourages, patting his thigh before she clumsily wobbles over the console, settling on his lap.

“Didn’t tell you to sit there, did I?” he says before lifting her up and setting her back down so she’s properly straddling his thigh. “Now that’s better?” 

“Rafe…someone could see us,” she suddenly remembers, turning her head and peering through the car window at the busy parking lot; girls in bikinis carrying towels, couples laughing and chatty families all thriving under the beaming sun.  

“Honestly don’t really give a shit. Why don’t we just…let them see how much of a dirty girl you are, hm?” he grins, showcasing pearly white teeth and making her whine in response. She flits her eyes towards the window once more, inspecting the seas of people loitering about, but she doesn’t think anyone’s noticed them yet.

However, she doesn’t have any more time to observe before he’s yanking her back to face him once more, fingers digging into her jaw.  

“Look at me,” his brows furrow, seemingly upset that her attention isn’t on him. 

“Sorry, I jus’...” 

“Relax, alright? They can’t even see your face, just a horny slut humpin’ me,” he reassures her before mushing her cheeks together and smudging a sloppy kiss on her lips when she drags out his name, flushing in humiliation.  

“Why don’t we, uh, take these off, hm?” he mumbles, not even bothering to wait for a response before he’s dragging down the zipper of her jeans. Then, he’s tugging them down her legs, leaving her in just a flimsy pair of underwear.  

She gasps when she feels his firm thigh against her drippy cunt, relieving some of the tension in her limbs.  

“This shit gets you off, doesn’t it? The fact that anyone could jus’ look through the window and see how fuckin’ desperate you get for me?” he asks, something mean glinting in his eyes. 

“Go on then, if you want it, you gotta work for it, yeah?” he leans back against the seat, his long legs spreading out and a smirk painting over his face as he simply gazes at her. She doesn’t think she’s ever felt more embarrassed, cheeks burning when she gives a tentative roll of her hips against him, whimpering out because the fabric between them is not only paper thin but also soaked through at this point.  

“There you go, sweetheart. That feel good?”  

She mewls, nodding all frantic and rutting against his thigh some more. Then, he’s plucking at her panties, pulling the sodden material to the side and allowing for her to really feel the sturdy muscles there; skin to skin. She grows louder and louder as her swollen clit keeps bumping against him, making him smear his mouth over hers— muffling her whines when her thighs begin to grow sore.  

“Rafe…m’tired— can you…”

“You’re tired, huh? What if I’m tired too?” there’s something in his mocking question that tells her he’s anything but.  

“Rafe, can you jus’— can you help?” 

“Where’d your manners go, hm? Why don’t you ask nicely?”  

“Rafe please, need to…can you help me please need you to— need you to help,” her distressed eyes are turning watery when he merely chuckles, low from his chest. 

“You don’t even know what you’re sayin’ do you? Get so dumb every time we do this, couldn’t even fuck you properly before you passed out on me that night in your bed, remember?” 

“That’s not fair, I was so sleepy—” 

“Wha’s not fair is me havin’ to do all the work while you jus’ whine like a helpless baby,” his voice is condescending, making wet droplets stain her cheeks.   

“M’sorry, don’t mean to...”  

“I know, sweetheart. I know,” he says while gripping at her hips, supporting her weight and dragging her over his thigh, making her moan out loud.  

“Can’t do anythin’ yourself, can you? Need m’help with everythin’ yeah?” his rugged paws roll her hips against him, hard, again and again.  

“Mhm. Need you—” a loud noise leaves her throat when he suddenly pushes his leg up against her— forcing her puffy clit to harshly rub against the skin that her weepy cunt has made so wet, to the point where he can feel it whenever she glides against it. “Rafe, m’gonna…” 

“Yeah? Gonna soak m’thigh for me?”  

She whimpers when he presses her down firmer.

“Shit, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” he mutters out, blue gemstones fixed on her trembling form before the knot in her stomach begins to loosen— the piece of yarn snapping as she begins to unspool in his arms, crying out because she feels so delighted she doesn’t know what to do.  

“There you go, jus’ do anythin’ I ask, don’t you?” he murmurs, her head dropping against his steady chest while his blunt nails scratch at her scalp.  

There are stars in her eyes, nearly a full-blown galaxy while his strong grip steadies her and makes her feel like nothing else matters; only this moment. Him and her.  

And she wants to stay in the safety of his hold forevermore because she’s positive the only reason her poor heart is beating these days is because of him.  

As an afterthought, she wonders if maybe she’s just in love.

[melanchoire]

Request: You had discussed with Ryujin(g!p)before that if she ever needed to soothe herself she could always use you, even if you were asleep as you always found this idea to be hot. So, tonight is the night she decided to go for it.

cw: somnophilia.

i see ryujin as the kind of person who is hell to live with. like, she leaves dirty dishes in the sink, dirty clothes thrown on the floor of the room or in the bathroom, she doesn’t even bother to sweep the floor... she is a mess

and she doesn't like it when you throw things in her face. she is aware of how lazy she is, but having you to constantly remind her of things is something that pisses her off quite a bit, even if she should try to change instead of being worse every day

also the type who after an argument simply storms out of the apartment and slams the door. she probably calls one of her friends, meets her at a bar while she takes it out on her and gets more pissed off as she talks

but she starts to miss you the more she talks about you 💔 she is kind of a tsundere SO she can try to apply the law of ice but internally she just wants to cuddle with her girlfriend and stay in bed for hours and have lazy make out sessions

when she returns to the apartment she is a bit tipsy. careless steps as she enters her home, closing the door behind her and having a bit of trouble closing the door due to the loose and careless grip she has on the keys

and she gets more frustrated when she sees you sleeping peacefully on the bed when she is in a bad mood 😭 reluctantly taking off her shoes and jacket, preparing for the scolding she will be more than assured of for leaving her clothes lying on the floor, but it will be for tomorrow! after she manages to fuck you tonight

of course this is with full consent!

you had easy clothes, quick to remove or even tear. she takes the hem of the nightgown and lifts it up over your breasts, moaning at the sight of the perky soft and sooo plush mounds that were just begging to be sucked and worshipped

her cock was so hard at this point, the tip an angry red as precum slowly spilled from the head to half the length, along with her balls being heavy and in a almost purple hue 😭 she grabs her length with one hand, sliding the head of her cock all the way up your slit and spreading her cum, but she starts to feel needy so ryujin doesn’t waste any more time and crashes inside your pussy, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of your velvety walls hugging her cock

your pussy gets wetter with each thrust of her hips, which made her pace speed up even more, her tip kissing your cervix with each thrust 🥴 cupping your tits in her hands as she fucks you, the tips of her thumbs rubbing your nipples and even adding her index fingers to pinch the bud between her fingers

you slowly begin to wake up. the uncomfortable feeling in your lower region made you snap your eyes open, slightly contemplating whether this was a dream or reality

but ryujin pushes your head back into the pillow, saying “go back to sleep, princess. let me take care of this.” but fucking you at a speed that wouldn’t even let you try to get back to your beloved dream

after taking out her frustration on you and filling you with her seed, ryujin’s bad mood immediately fades when you switch positions with her, climbing onto her lap and riding her all night long

[lolxdswag123]

Aftermath of a Mission

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: y/n and Peter are used to decompressing after a mission together. This time, it isn’t so easy. What happens when they both have to figure it outout on their own?

warnings: crying, some angst, accidental pulling out of hair, slight ptsd

——————————————————————————

Exhausted. Aching. Bored. I couldn’t focus on a word that Dr. Banner was saying during our debrief. All I could do was sit back and stare at the wall until it was over.

I wasn’t even sure why I had to attend these meetings as I wasn’t technically even an Avenger. My dad insisted that I sit in because it’ll be useful to me in the future.

I tapped my foot, checking my watch, anxious to leave the conference room. I glanced across the table to my best friend, who looked just as exhausted as I felt. I definitely zoned out looking at him, because the next thing I noticed was him looking back at me with furrowed eyebrows, as if asking what’s wrong.

I let out a yawn in response, shooting a glance at the door and hoping he could read my thoughts. I just wanted to get out of there.

Missions can be fun sometimes, but the recovery is most certainly not. I’d typically spend about a day in bed before I could finally start functioning as a normal human being again. Usually that day in bed is spent with my best friend.

It started after a particularly rough mission about a year ago. Peter wasn’t even going out with us yet at that point, but he had just been sick— and we both desperately needed rest. I had gotten a minor injury to my ribs, and Peter being the sweetest best friend in the world decided to come check on me and bring me ice. He ended up falling asleep next to me for about 15 hours. My dad threw a tantrum.

Ever since then— as long as we’re sneaky enough— it has become a habit for us after we come back from missions. And maybe a few other occasions as well.

It was just easier to sleep next to someone else. Especially after the mental and emotional strain that missions bring. Being with someone who brings you comfort makes all the difference.

I swear I was already half asleep by the time the meeting finally ended, moving extra slowly as I got up and exited the room. I latched onto Peter's arm, leaning most of my body weight on him as we headed to the elevators.

Steve and Nat stayed behind, somehow still having more to discuss. They were nuts.

We entered the elevator with my dad and Thor. They each pressed their respective buttons, going to the floors of the compound that their rooms were on. I reached out as well, pressing the level 3 button for my room.

My dad stood up straight, moving in front of the elevator panel before glancing over at us and speaking, "Where you headed, Pete?"

Peter didn't have a real room at the compound yet, so he really should've been headed to the showers on level 1. Although, for the past year he has just been showering in my bathroom- not to my dad's knowledge of course.

"Uh-mm," he choked out smoothly.

I shook my head, speaking for him, "He's just going to shower in my bathroom, dad."

I could feel Peter tense against me, clearly afraid of my dad's reaction.

My father dramatically turned his head, using his palm to bang on his ear a couple times, before removing his ear piece all together and saying, "I'm sorry, I must have misheard you. It sounded like you just said that Spider-boy is showering in your bathroom."

I rolled my eyes, sighing, about to speak back when Thor spoke up, "Ah, Stark, let them have their fun. On Asgard I had many women bathing in my chambers by that age." He said, patting my father on the back.

I rolled my eyes, knowing Thor's comment is no help at all.

My father shook his head, facing me and sticking a scolding finger out at me, "You are not showering with your little boyfriend under my roof. Understood?"

I blushed, hating his phrasing. The elevator stopped, and Thor stepped forward, nodding awkwardly to us before exiting.

When the doors closed again, I rolled my eyes, turning to my father again, "First of all, we're not showering together," I said, using air quotes, "And second, he isn't my boyfriend. It's just easier to have someone there after these missions, you know that better than anyone, dad."

I crossed my arms, awaiting his response.

He shook his head, "Nope. Not today, kid. Pete, I'll escort you to the first floor showers."

The elevator door dinged, and it was my turn to leave. I glanced up at Peter, hoping that he would find a way to come back to my room later. He gave me a nervous look, so I wasn't too sure he would.

I squeezed his hand, exiting the elevator without looking back, but I could hear my dad mumbling something about "no spider-babies" as I walked away.

After a much-needed, very refreshing shower, I sat on my bed in my towel, feeling the weight of the past few days lingering over me like a storm cloud, ready to let loose at any moment.

Usually after missions Peter and I would immediately come to my room, and everyone was too exhausted to even pay attention. Today however, the debrief had taken so long that there was no easy way for us to come back together.

It felt lonely. I had a heavy feeling of emptiness in my heart. I hadn’t realized how much I’d gotten used to his presence at times like these. Even with the winding down after we got back— he had always been there. We’d sit in eachother’s comfortable silence, he’d comb my hair for me, we’d patch up eachother’s wounds, and then we’d fall asleep together.

I was embarrassed by how much this was affecting me. I was a Stark, I should’ve been okay being alone. And yet, I could feel tears stinging my eyes as I sat there, trying to comb out my own hair. My hands were shaking from a mixture of fatigue and frustration, making it even more difficult to get through the knots. Peter had always been so gentle.

My comb got stuck on a particularly tough knot. I tugged, causing clump of hair to come out, and I couldn’t hold back anymore. I instantly started sobbing.

I could feel my body trembling, desperately needing sleep and desperately needing company. I threw on the first clothes that I could find, knowing I looked crazy, and headed out into the hall in search of my best friend.

I cried, wiping my tears with the sleeves of my shirt, and shifted uncomfortably with the feeling of wet hair on my back. I felt overstimulated if the feeling of overstimulation was on steroids and a red bull.

I heard footsteps from the other end of the hall, and I sniffled, my voice cracking as I called out, “Peter?”

I felt pain in the side of my head, and I reached up to be reminded of the broken strands of hair that were now hanging sadly to the side. I sobbed again.

I didn’t hear a response, so I called out again, “Peter?”

Peter didn’t round the corner. Bucky did. I wiped my tears, knowing that I looked like a mess, and attempted to force a smile at him.

He frowned, running his hand through his own wet hair. “Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, reaching out to me.

I immediately felt the lump in my throat grow as tears began streaming down my face again. I didn’t trust my words, so I just shook my head, looking at the ground.

“Do you want me to find Peter?” He asked gently, resting his hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, swallowing hard and trying to find my words. “Please,” I whispered.

He nodded, stepping forward to wrap me in a hug. I cried into his shoulder. It did give me a sense of comfort to be with anyone at this point. I knew I was just so over exhausted that my feelings were all messed up, but I knew I really needed Peter.

Bucky rubbed my back, trying his best to comfort me before slowly pulling away. “You gonna be okay if I go look for Peter?”

I nodded, wiping my tears again and said, “Thanks, Bucky. You’re the best.”

He smiled sadly, nodding and turned back to the elevator— hopefully in search of Peter. I didn’t care if the whole compound knew how much of a mess I was at this point if it meant he would come find me.

I walked back to my room, and the tears stopped. I felt numb, and exhausted. I left the comb on my nightstand. I couldn’t deal with that now. I turned off my lights and crawled into bed, shivering with pain— physical and emotional.

I’m not sure how long I layed there. It might’ve been five minutes, it might’ve been fifteen, but eventually I heard my door open and close quietly, and soft footsteps entered the room.

I felt the covers lift up, and the bed dipped next to me. I immediately sighed with relief, feeling his arms wrap around me. I could hear his breath shaking, and I pushed him back slightly, trying to see his face in the dark.

“What’s wrong baby?” I whispered, reaching behind me to turn on my lamp. My heart broke when I saw tears on his face, and I could see his expression drop even more when he looked into my swollen eyes.

He grabbed my hands, pulling me close and whispered, “I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to being with you after a mission,” he took a deep breath, trying to steady his breathing, “then Bucky found me when I was talking to your dad and he told me you needed me and I kind of lost it. You know that thing that happens when my senses freak out? It was like that but ten times worse.” I nodded feeling tears start to fall again when his voice cracked, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

I shook my head, taking his face in my hands. “It’s okay, Pete, it’s okay. Are you doing okay now?”

He nodded, tucking his face into my hand. “I’m okay. Are you okay?”

I nodded, laughing and lifting one of my hands off of his face to find my broken section of hair. “I accidentally took some of my hair out.”

Instead of laughing, his face dropped in concern, and he then reached his own hands out to hold my face, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

I shook my head, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands on my face, “You’re here now, it’s okay.”

He nodded, moving close and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. I smiled, and closed my eyes at the soft gesture of affection.

When he pulled away, I opened my eyes and furrowed my eyebrows, realizing I must’ve missed something. “How’d you get my dad to let you up here?” I asked.

He sighed, “After Bucky told us how he found you, then I went into sensory overload, he kinda just sent me off.”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, but didn’t respond.

“I think it hurt him,” Peter said, “hearing how upset you were.”

I nodded, yawning and moving closer to rest my head on his chest and he wrapped his arms around me. I finally felt safe again, and I felt a warm sensation in my chest.

Peter kissed the top of my head, whispering, “Get some sleep, angel.”

I nodded, hesitating for just a second. I knew what I wanted to say, we’d just never said it out loud before. I never knew if it was crossing the line past being just friends, but after today I didn’t care. I needed him to know.

“I love you, Peter.” I whispered, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too.” He answered without hesitation, hugging me back.

I smiled, sitting up to look at him, taking his face in my hands again.

“I love you,” I whispered again, seeing him smile as well.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered back, leaning into my touch.

Without thinking any more, I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. When I pulled away, he was smiling at me with such a look of adoration that I almost teared up again.

I was about to lay back on his chest and go to sleep, but he gently took my face in his hands, returning another soft kiss to my lips. When we pulled away, we both blinked hard, looking at each other with so much love.

Finally, I laid my head back on his chest and we both fell into a deep sleep. It was almost fifteen hours later that I was awaken to my dad bursting into the room, saying, “Just because I was fine with it doesn’t mean you need to sleep together for fifteen hours. Get out Spider-boy.”

[yvaineseleneposts]

Wildflower

Requested: yes by the lovely @devilinpradaheels

A/N: based on Wildflower by 5 Seconds of Summer.

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: 1400

Warning(s): none (I don't think)

The rink was quiet now, only the soft hum of the lights above and the faint echo of skates scraping against the ice. Nico Hischier sat at the edge of the rink, still in his gear, his skates untied but not yet removed. His mind was far from the ice, and as he watched the slow movement of his fingers against the laces, it was clear that his thoughts weren’t on hockey.

They were on you.

He had been trying to focus all evening—practice had gone well, and his teammates were all heading out for a well-deserved night off. But Nico couldn’t shake the image of you from his mind. The way your eyes lit up when you smiled at him, the way you always seemed to know exactly what to say to make him laugh, to make him feel lighter in a world that sometimes felt heavy. You had a way of making everything seem right.

A sudden vibration in his pocket broke his reverie. He pulled out his phone to see your name flashing on the screen.

“Hey you. What are you up to?” the message read, followed by a string of heart emojis.

A smile tugged at Nico’s lips. Every time he saw a message from you, his heart seemed to skip a beat, as if you had this unspoken ability to get under his skin in the most exhilarating way. He typed back quickly: “Just finishing up here. Can’t stop thinking about you, as usual.”

It didn’t take long for a reply to pop up: “You’re sweet. Come over when you’re done, yeah? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Nico’s chest tightened with excitement. A surprise? That could mean anything, but with you, it always felt like a secret that he wanted to uncover, a story waiting to be written. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, slipping his phone into his pocket before heading out.

When Nico arrived at your place, the door was already cracked open, a soft light spilling out from inside. You were waiting for him—he could see you through the window, standing by the kitchen counter with a glass of wine in your hand, your hair falling loosely over your shoulder in that way that always drove him wild.

He knocked softly, and the door swung open almost immediately.

“Look who decided to show up,” you said, a teasing smile on your lips as you leaned against the doorframe. You were wearing one of his old jerseys again, the one that had always made him feel like you were a part of him, even when you weren’t together.

“Had to get out of there,” Nico said with a chuckle, stepping into your flat. “You always know how to get me to drop everything.”

“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to,” you said playfully, stepping aside so he could enter. “But I’d like to think you do.”

Nico’s heart skipped at your words. Every time you spoke to him like that, it was like you saw straight into him, past the carefully curated walls he’d built over the years. He could feel himself falling deeper, but with you, it didn’t feel scary. It felt like home.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper as he walked toward you. He reached out, gently taking the wine glass from your hand and setting it on the counter before pulling you into a warm hug. You fit so perfectly in his arms, like you were meant to be there.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. “I missed you,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his shirt.

“I missed you too,” Nico replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It felt like the world had paused just for this moment, just for the two of you.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face. “I have something for you,” you said, your lips curling into that smile he loved.

Nico raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A surprise?”

“Yep,” you said, giving him a playful wink. “You’re gonna like it. But first...” You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “You wanna know what I like?”

Nico’s breath hitched. He could feel the heat radiating between you both, the tension building in the air. Every time you spoke like that, it sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins. You always knew how to make him feel alive, to make him want things he couldn’t explain.

“I’m dying to know,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise.

You pulled back slightly and gave him a teasing smile. “I like it when you look at me like that,” you said, your eyes locking with his. “Like you want to be closer.”

Nico’s pulse quickened. There was something about the way you said it, the way your voice dropped to a hushed tone, that made him feel like he was losing himself in you. “I do,” he replied, his words thick with need. “I want to be closer to you.”

The air between you two crackled, filled with the electricity of shared longing. Nico could feel his heart racing in his chest, the desire to kiss you overwhelming him. And before he could think twice, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first but quickly deepened as he pulled you closer. His hands found their way to your waist, holding you tightly against him, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of being apart for even a second longer.

You responded immediately, your hands threading through his hair, tugging him closer. The kiss was everything—tender, passionate, all-consuming. And when you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, Nico rested his forehead against yours, his hands still lingering on your back.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, his voice low. “You make me feel things I don’t even understand.”

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing against his cheek. “I feel the same way,” you whispered. “You’re my wildflower, Nico. I love how you make me feel alive.”

Nico’s heart fluttered at your words. He had always admired your strength, your wild, untamed spirit. You were everything he wasn’t—free-spirited, passionate, unapologetic in the way you loved. But when he was with you, it was like he could finally let go of everything that weighed him down. He could just be himself, with no masks, no pretences.

“You’re the only one who makes me feel like this,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “Every time we’re together, I just... I can’t think of anything else.”

“And that’s exactly what I want,” you replied, your hands sliding down to rest on his chest. “I want you to be here, with me, just like this.”

Nico smiled softly, his heart racing in his chest as he looked at you. You were everything he never knew he needed—his favourite fantasy, his wildflower. And as the night stretched on, with soft whispers and gentle touches, Nico knew one thing for sure: he never wanted to let go.

Later that evening, you both found yourselves wrapped in the warmth of the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows on the walls. Nico’s hand was resting lightly on your shoulder, his thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin. He had never felt more at peace than at this moment, with you beside him.

“You know, you’re my favourite fantasy,” he whispered, his voice full of meaning as he looked down at you. “I never thought I could feel like this about anyone.”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft and filled with affection. “And you’re mine, Nico. You’re my wildflower, the one thing I can’t explain, but I never want to stop feeling.”

Nico leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“And you won’t,” you replied, your voice full of certainty.

And with that, Nico knew that you would always be his wildflower, and he, the one who would hold on, not letting go of the love and connection you both shared.

[harmonicakai]

Midas Touch

Part 2 of the "Somebody Else" series

Pairing: Soobin x Reader, Yeonjun x Reader

Summary: As you and Soobin work on becoming a more believable fake couple, you both realize your initial impressions of each other aren't as accurate as you thought.

Tropes: love triangle, unrequited love, fake dating, frat boy!yeonjun, nerd!soobin, roommates, college AU, childhood best friends

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: sexual TENSION (mdni!), swearing, yj is an asshole, mentions of masturbation and sex

A/N: Yeonjun is barely in this sorry guys :-(

"The look of you when I open my eyes So bright that I couldn’t dare to approach My heart that wants to be like you Gets colored, filled with you" —New, Yves

Your room is much nicer than Soobin’s, albeit messier. There’s clothes scattered all across the floor, and your twin sized bed is covered in stuffed animals.

“Sorry,” you apologize, piling things onto your desk chair. “I didn’t think anybody would actually be coming over tonight. I mean, not like anybody is here any other night, either.”

“That’s okay,” Soobin reassures you. He’s relieved to hear that you don’t tend to have any late night visitors. You grab one of your favorite throw blankets and chuck it at him.

“Hope you’re okay with the floor,” you say. “If this actually becomes a regular thing, I’ll work out a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.”

“I’m good with whatever,” he says. Really, he thinks that if you let him sleep in your bed with you, he’d probably explode, so this is a good thing.

“Here,” you say, handing him a spare toothbrush. “Let’s get unready.”

Soobin is mesmerized at watching your nighttime routine, but he’s especially interested in the way you remove your makeup and layer on a complex combination of skincare products. You’re even nice enough to share and guide him through each step.

“This one brightens your face,” you explain, “And this one helps with texture.”

Soobin’s never considered any of these issues before. He kind of just rinses his face with water and things work out okay for him. 

You watch him to make sure he goes in the right order, and he can’t help but notice how you’re equally as beautiful without makeup. You’ve got a silly plush headband pushing your hair out of your face, and you’ve given him one to match.

It all feels a bit too real standing at the bathroom sink together. 

“All done?” you ask, snapping him out of his daydream. He nods, and you lead him back to your bedroom.

When you get back, your roommate, Jia, is sitting in the common room eating a tub of ice cream and watching TV. She’s cool with you bringing Yeonjun around all the time, but isn’t used to seeing new faces pop up. 

“Hi,” you greet her, before gesturing to your guest. “This is Soobin. Soobin, this is my roommate, Jia.”

“Hi,” he says, giving an awkward wave. Jia gives a half grin, her mouth full, before waving and shooting you a look that says she’s going to need every detail later.

“We’ll be in my room,” you say, grabbing Soobin’s hand and dragging him along. 

While things felt blissfully domestic in the bathroom, they’re as awkward as can be in the bedroom. The two of you really know nothing about each other, except for maybe the classes you take. 

Soobin wonders if you’re just tired or you just don’t want to talk to him. For his sake, he decides on the former, watching as you switch the lamp off and turn to face the wall. 

“Goodnight, Soobin,” you say, hoping he’s comfortable enough on your floor.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he replies. His heartbeat is still racing, and he spends a good portion of the night listening to the way your breathing becomes slow and steady, willing himself to match its pace. That night, all he dreams about is you.

—————-

If things were awkward right before bed, they’re even worse when you and Soobin wake up to a fire alarm. 

“Soobin,” you say, crawling out of bed and shaking him. He must be a heavy sleeper. “Soobin, get up.”

His eyes flutter open and he’s got a dopey smile when he sees you. “Huh? What time is it?”

“It’s only six, but there’s a fire alarm. We have to go outside.” You offer a hand to help him up, but he looks at you funny. “Is something wrong?”

“I can’t get up,” he gulps, glancing at his crotch. “Morning wood.”

“Nobody will care,” you huff, covering your ears in an attempt to dampen the siren. “I’m sorry. I just—I can’t stand loud noises.”

A little embarrassment is nothing compared to making sure you’re comfortable. In an instant, Soobin is up, your blanket wrapped around him like a cape as you file into the crowd of evacuating students.

“Hold my hand,” you whisper, and he doesn’t need anymore convincing before lacing his fingers into yours. To everybody, you look like a real couple. People mostly know you around campus as Yeonjun’s friend, so hopefully they’ll start to talk when they see you with another guy for once.

Soobin notices how you’re shivering in just a t-shirt and sleep shorts and wraps the blanket around you too, pulling you in to share his body heat. He’s so cozy, and his chest feels more solid than you expected. 

“Thank you,” you say, peering up at him, your arms finding their way around his waist. His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, but it somehow works for him. He smiles back at you, and you note his dimples and the way his eyes light up.

Choi Soobin is cute. He might not be your type, but any girl would be lucky to have him.

Even though he doesn’t really want to, Soobin heads back to his own room after the fire alarm is over. It was really sweet of him to keep you company while you waited, you think to yourself.

When Soobin gets back, Yeonjun is sitting in the kitchen, nursing his hangover with a huge spread of breakfast. 

“Look who’s back,” Yeonjun slurs, wearing sunglasses indoors. “Have fun with Y/N?”

“I did, actually. She showed me her skincare routine.”

“Is that all she showed you?” He’s lifted his sunglasses up now.

“Yes.” Soobin knows if he says more, it’ll be too obvious the relationship is fake.

“So the girl of your dreams took you to her bedroom and you didn’t hook up with her?”

“It’s not like that between us,” Soobin asserts. “I want to take my time. Treat her right.”

“Soob,” Yeonjun starts, a grin plastered on his face. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

“I knew it!” Yeonjun leans into the couch, clapping.

“I’m going to shower,” Soobin says, walking towards the bathroom.

“Don’t take too long jacking off to Y/N,” his roommate calls after him.

“You’re gross!”

“Maybe, but I’m right, aren’t I?”

Yeonjun is right. As soon as Soobin steps under the hot water, he can’t get you off of his mind. The way your fingers felt laced through his hair, or the taste of your lip gloss. Your cute moles that your foundation usually covers up and the way you snuggled into him to keep warm.

He’s got it bad, finishing after he’s barely even touched himself. That’s the kind of effect you have on him, and he knows that if he’s going to be around you more and more, he’s going to have to learn to control himself.

When he gets out of the shower, you’re sitting on the couch, looking as beautiful as ever. Soobin stops dead in his tracks, blinking back the water that’s dripping from his hair. In an attempt to cover up his bare chest, he almost drops the towel from around his waist.

“Y/N! Hi–hey!” he stutters, his eyes wide. What were you doing here and why were you so dressed up?

“Hi, Soobie,” you smile at him, standing up and hugging him. “Ooh, bad idea. You’re getting me all wet.”

“That’s probably the only way he can,” Yeonjun chuckles. You turn and shoot him a dirty look.

“Hurry up and put some clothes on,” you tell Soobin. “I don’t want to lose our reservation.”

“Right, yes. Sorry,” he says, walking past you and into his room.

“Please tell me you’re not just messing with that poor boy,” Yeonjun sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t think he’d ever recover.”

“No, Yeonjun,” you cross your arms. “Unlike some people, it matters who I bring home with me.”

“So, you actually like him?”

“He’s sweet,” you reason, refusing to elaborate any further.

“Am I not?” You couldn’t tell if you could sense a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

“Why don’t you ask one of the other girls you kissed the other night and get back to me?” Your anger catches both you and him off guard. Usually, you’re Yeonjun’s doormat. 

You stare at each other in silence before finally looking away. It feels like hours before Soobin comes back out of his room, wearing his glasses and a white button down. It’s nerdy, but in a cute way. It’s quintessentially him.

“Ready?” you ask, holding out your hand for him.

“Yeah, ready,” he says, lacing his fingers into yours. “Bye, Yeonjun. We’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” he mutters, eyes locked on his phone screen. “Have fun.”

You close the door behind you without a word.

—————-

“This isn’t what I was expecting when you said we had a reservation,” Soobin says, eyeing the study room in the library that you’ve rented out for the next couple of hours. “I could’ve at least brought some homework to do.”

“This isn’t a study date,” you clarify. “Well, technically it is, except we’re studying each other. If we’re going to be a couple, we need to look and act like one.”

“Agreed.” Soobin’s palms are already starting to sweat. He had always thought of you as quiet and sweet around Yeonjun, but you seem so confident when it’s just you and him.

“I brought a game for us to play to get to know each other better,” you say, opening up your tote bag and digging out a deck of cards. “We’ll start with level one. What was the first thing you noticed about me?”

“You’re beautiful,” Soobin blurts out. His wording sticks in your head. Usually, people call you cute or pretty, but beautiful has a whole other meaning to it.

“Thank you,” you say, hoping he can’t see you blush. “I noticed how nice you were.”

“Or you didn’t notice me at all,” he says, staring at the floor.

“What do you mean?” you ask, looking at him in confusion.

“We’ve technically met twice. You were drunk the first time, and you didn’t really remember, so the second time we met, you thought it was the first. I had to reintroduce myself.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.” He thought you were beautiful even when you were blackout drunk.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “It gave me a second chance to make a good first impression.”

“And you did,” you assure him. “All of Yeonjun’s friends are dicks, so it was really nice to meet one who isn’t.”

“I don’t think me and Yeonjun are friends,” he mutters.

“You don’t?” It had never occurred to you that Soobin didn’t like Yeonjun.

“Does it seem like we’re friends?”

“Well… no, I guess not,” you say, looking back at the deck in your hands. 

“He’s kind of an asshole,” Soobin laughs. He’s right, you think to yourself, but it’s not something you’ve ever been willing to accept.

“He wasn’t always like that,” you quip back. “He used to be really sweet. I don’t know. Something just changed between highschool and college. He wanted to be cool and went on this whole journey to reinvent himself.”

“So, he’s completely different, but you’re still in love with him?”

You have no idea how to answer that question. Soobin knows he shouldn’t have asked it.

“Let’s skip to level two,” you change the subject, digging through the cards. “What's the most attractive thing I do without realizing it?”

Soobin swallows hard. He thinks everything you do is attractive. Even the way you’re looking at him right now, the corners of your mouth slightly upturned, makes his heart beat faster. He weighs his options. “You’re bossy.”

“You like that?” you laugh. There were so many other things he could have picked about you.

“Yes. You know exactly what you want and you aren’t afraid to tell me. It’s–it’s very attractive.”

“Fair enough.” You lean back in your chair, eyeing him up and down. “You have nice hands.”

“Really?” he says, looking at them. “Nobody’s ever told me that.”

“Dude,” you say, taking one into your grasp and comparing it to yours. “They’re huge. It’s hot.”

“Thanks,” he mutters, pulling his hand away and hiding his face.

“Did I say something wrong?” you ask him. He looks up at you, surprised.

“No! I’m just, I’m not used to being complimented. Especially not on my appearance.” It’s never occurred to you that some people don’t get showered with comments on how good they look all the time, especially someone as handsome as Soobin. 

“Soobin,” you say, locking eyes with him. “You are very attractive. From one pretty person to another, okay?”

“Okay,” he laughs awkwardly. “It’s hard to argue with that.”

“You know what?” You set the deck of cards down on the table. “Fuck the game. Let’s do something more fun.”

“Like what?”

“Kissing lessons,” you grin.

“What!?” Soobin looks terrified. He checks behind his shoulder to make sure the room’s blinds are shut.

“If we want to make Yeonjun jealous, you’re going to have to look like you can kiss me better than he can. That’ll really get on his nerves.”

“Was I… bad at kissing the other night?”

“No, but you were a little desperate,” you explain.

“Sorry.” He’s looking away again.

“Stop apologizing to me. I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“Oh. Then why do I need lessons?”

“Listen, I’m all for my fake boyfriend seeming obsessed with me, but if you keep kissing me like it’s the end of the world, it’s not going to seem like we do it on the regular.”

“Makes sense.”

“Exactly. So, let’s practice. We’ll start easy with cheek kisses. Don’t flinch.” You lean over and place a quick kiss on Soobin’s cheek, and he does his best to stay still. “See, was that so hard?”

“I guess not,” he breathes out.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guess?”

“It wasn’t,” he clarifies. “What’s next?”

You grab both of his hands and pull him to his feet. “Hug me like you missed me.”

He doesn’t need much more instruction, wrapping his arms around your waist until there’s no space between the two of you. “Now what?”

“Kiss the top of my head.” Soobin places a gentle kiss at the crown of your head, your shampoo smelling like citrus. You look up at him with a smile.

“Good job,” you say. “Now my forehead, and then my cheek, and then my nose.”

One of his hands moves to cup your face, following your instructions carefully. Once he’s placed a kiss on the tip of your nose, he doesn’t pull away. “And your mouth?”

You nod, leaning in until your lips connect. He’s more cautious this time, making sure it doesn’t seem like he’s trying to swallow you whole. 

“How was that?” he asks, breaking away. 

“It was nice,” you say. “Maybe a little too gentle.”

Instead of replying, Soobin pulls you into another kiss, his grip on your waist tightening and his mouth open. “Better?”

“Better,” you affirm before kissing him again. Your hands slip into his hair, tugging on it slightly. Soobin leans further into you until you’re pressed against the blackboard.

His tongue finds its way into your mouth and to your surprise, you whimper. And just like that, Soobin is hard, all of his nervousness melting away to focus on pleasing you. He pulls away, his lips kissing their way down your jaw and onto your neck.

“Does this feel good?” he asks you, sucking on the sensitive skin. The best answer you can give him is a strained moan. You pray he doesn’t leave a mark.

“You—you’re a fast learner,” you stammer. One of his hands brushes the hemline of your shirt, prompting you to snap into reality and push him away. “That was good. You did good.”

Soobin steps back, his body no longer keeping you upright. You both do your best to regain your composure, wiping your lips dry and fixing your hair. 

“I have a good teacher,” he says, suddenly feeling awkward again. He prays you don’t notice his hard on, even though it was just pressed up against you. Except it’s all you can think about.

If it were anybody else, you’d probably laugh and tease them about it, but not Soobin. You had no idea how much you’d enjoy this. Sure, kissing him while drunk and heartbroken at the party was fun, but this was different. 

“Well, I think we’ve had a successful day,” you say, quickly gathering the cards off the table and shoving them into your bag. “I have to run. I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Oh. Yeah, okay,” he smiles, his stupid dimples showing. “I’ll see you later, Y/N!”

And with that, you’ve slammed the study room’s door behind you, willing yourself to think about literally anything or anyone else on the way back to your dorm.

—————-

Taglist: @orangesodafoam @deezbutz28  @ur-mother-realnotclickbait @internet-folks @darlingz99 @foxyjun @stardustmooncakes @giaalorine @niningtori i @goquokka @csbenthusiast @moarmyjkhk @lizdevorak @sooberryworld @lonelybutterflytae @midnight-mochii @theresawtf @nowadays56 @jjklvr9 @baekberrie @philijack @lixpixstix @reiheis @thewintermer @yoseicour @matcha-binz @choizzn @amoryeonjun

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist! Also, I struggle to keep up with different lists for individual members, but if you really don’t want to be tagged on all of my works, just let me know and I will do my best to keep things separate <3

[metyouinthehallway]

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐄𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫

Hockey!Matt x fem!Reader

Summary: Matt teaches the reader how to Ice skate!

Warnings: fluff, use of pet names.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Matt glides with ease across the ice rink, as he circles around the perimeter once, he chuckles when he sees you still struggling to balance yourself.

“C’mon, you got it pretty.” He smiles at you, holding out his hand for you to take. Your gloved fingers intertwine with his as Matt leads the two of you around the ice rink.

“It’s like riding a bike, gotta find your balance.” He slowly lets go of your hand and your first instinct is to cling onto the side walls. The cold air of the indoor arena tints your nose red and you can bet that you’ll need to moisturize thoroughly tonight.

“Not as good as you are, Matt! Hold my hand again.” You squeal, not daring to lift your hand from the stability of the wall. Matt chuckles at your plea, gliding over to you again.

“Here, I’ll lead, you let go when you’re ready, yeah?” He takes the lead, skating backwards as he pulls you along with him. You look down at the ice you’re cutting through, watching the way Matt’s skates move, how they effortlessly coast along the shiny surface. You try your best to mirror his movements, weaving your legs in and out.

“Hey, I think I’m getting it!” You smile at him, proud of yourself, you decide to let go of him only to skate right back over to the wall that you were previously gripping on.

“It’d be even more fun if you came out to the middle, ya know?” He tries to convince you to stray out of your comfort zone. You slowly push off the wall, wobbling across the rink with your arms out at your side.

“Okay, shh, I think I’m doing it.” I silence him, even though he barely said a word to me. Matt does a few circles around me before coming up behind me, placing his hands on my hips to help balance me.

“There ‘ya go, doing so good.” He coos at you, helping to guide you across the ice rink. It was just the two of you, the cold atmosphere making his touch feel so much more serene and intimate.

“How did you do this for four whole years?” You inquire, genuinely curious as to how he didn’t fall on his ass multiple times throughout his high school hockey career.

“It’s call practice baby,” Matt lets out a breathy chuckle at your comment, maybe he’ll teach you how to play a bit of hockey next time. “You’ll get used to it, promise.” He slowly lets up from your hips, watching as you skate across the ice, growing more confident in your movements.

After a mere hour of skating around, you mutually agree to call it a night, Matt helping remove your skates. The two of you stop for hot cocoa on your way out before he starts to drive back to his house.

“Have fun?” He asks, turning his attention to you for a moment.

“I think I’m ready to compete in the Olympics for ice skating actually!” You joke, sipping on your cocoa. Matt reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with his and resting on the center console of the car.

“Mm, I’d support you every step of the way, pretty girl.” He gives your hand a light squeeze, brining your knuckles up to his lips for a chaste kiss.

It’s little dates like this that make the best memories with him, you didn’t want to imagine a world without Matt in it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[the-possum-writes]

hello everything is fine? I hope so :)

I saw that you are taking requests and decided to ask a question.

you could make marshall lee x pregnant reader but reader is pregnant with a beautiful little girl 🖤

Waiting Room Woes

❥Character: Marshall Lee the vampire king

❥Wordcount: 1200

❥Tags: SFW, tooth rottening fluff, babyfic, pregnancy, hospitals

❥Synopsis: Marshall struggles to keep his nerves in check as he sits in the waiting room while their spouse gives birth to their firstborn.

❥Taglist: @foxpearlwilder

Marshall Lee paces back and forth in the waiting lobby of the rock kingdom's hospital in restless agitation knowing that his spouse is just a few doors away giving birth to their firstborn child, he should be there right next to them as they go through this important moment together but the doctors rushed him out of there when something became complicated. So for now he waits alone.

Or atleast that was the case until Ice Queen showed up with a gift basket in hand.

"Make way for the world's greatest godmother- Marshall? What are you doing here, aren't you supposed to be in there-?" She didn't manage to finish her question since Marshall Lee silently and abruptly went up to wrap his arms around her in comfort.

"I am Simone, I am. But there were some complications with the pregnancy and I got kicked out by the doc."

Ice Queen held the basket in one hand as she pats Marshall with the other hand. "And you want me to break you in!?" Her hand started glowing with blue ice magic, a bit dangerous but Marshall knew she meant well.

"Nah, I'll let the experts do their thing." He removes himself from the hug, rubbing a hand to suppress a sniffle.

Despite her madness and less than desirable behavior towards princes and any other male in Aaa, Ice Queen gently places her gift basket in Marshall's gray hands, shaking slightly as he tries to subdue his nerves, stroking the side of his head in a comforting manner as she would do towards her penguins. "Well, in any case I'll wait with you until there's any news."

Gumball and Fionna were the next few people to shortly arrive after hearing the news of you and Marshall's delivery, they're holding their own baskets in hand where Gumball's is nicely wrapped in a pink bow and Fionna's looks like hand made and honestly quite last minute, it didn't take long for the three of them to take a defense stance once they saw eachother.

"Ice Queen!" Fionna and Cake exclaim.

"You little brat!" The older woman prepared her ice powers but she gave one side glance at Marshall and pulled back with a grumble. "We’ll settle this later in the parking lot, I'll fetch you something to drink Marshall." Is all she said before flying away to the hospital's cafeteria.

"Hey Marsh, we came as fast as we could after hearing the news." Gumball explains, putting aside his basket on the waiting room chairs while Fionna does the same so the three of them could have a well meaning group hug.

"Thanks guys, I haven't gotten any updates and it's been driving me up the wall if I'm being honest." The vampire king explains.

"In any case, we'll wait it out with you. That's what homies are for." Fionna adds in, joined in by Cake soon after.

"That’s right sugar!"

And so they waited for what Marshall felt was an eternity and that's saying something when he's lived as long as he has, but nothing in that lifespan can compare to what he's going through at the moment. It only seemed like yesterday when you gave him the news of your pregnancy, and the months following up went by in a blink of an eye with your mood swings, your cravings, the nights where he couldn't get some sleep cause you were sleeping sideways and his unborn kid was kicking his back. Okay, that one was quite memorable. It brought a smile on his face for a moment but it only made him all the more scared at the thought of loosing that kid he hasn't met yet, or you, and glob forbids the both of you.

Fionna, Cake and Gumball tried to distract him with small talk during the while, he appreciated the gesture but he couldn't pour his heart into it fully. Eventually when Doctor Prince came out to check on him did Marshall practically fly out of his seat and started asking a billion questions before the doc could utter a single word.

Doctor Prince removed his gloves as he informs with a calm tone. "I came to inform you that the baby is undead."

"...What?"

It's in that instant Doctor Prince realizes he needs to reconsider his approach towards his patients, quickly raising his hands as he corrects himself. "Oh no no no not like that, I mean it's a good thing, you're a vampire right? Looks like she took after you! she doesn't have a heartbeat but she's alright and kicking, you can go see her in the incubation room."

Marshall Lee flies in the direction the doctor pointed at him as he repeats the words in his mind. "Took after me?" By the time he reached the incubation room he came to find out what he meant, she was a small thing but easy to spot through the multiple baby containers, the only one with gray skin and a small turf of dark hair- the nurse guarding the shift allowed him inside and he was able to get a closer look at the kiddo that has been nerve wracking him for months .

And she is perfect.

She's wailing and fidgeting in her little incubator with her closed eyes but still kicking and her pudgy little hands still attempt to grasp at the air, Marshall then slowly lowers his hand so she could wrap her little digits around his larger finger, it's then that she stops crying and coos curiously in Marshall's direction as if she recognizes him by instinct. If he wasn't crying already then he certainly was quietly sobbing now, all the anxiety and nervousness that was devouring him whole just seconds ago had completely evaporated the moment she held his finger. The nurse informed him that despite the lengthy procedure the baby was in good health and had Marshall signed a few papers before he was allowed to carry her and- dear glob he feels like he's gonna cry again.

Meanwhile Fionna and Cake have their faces glued to the glass of the incubation room as they marve at the sight of Marshall's baby, Gumball looks curiously and even Ice Queen is comically wailing at the sight of her tiny goddaughter... Even though Marshall never officially gave her the title of godmother. They all wanted to get a closer look at the baby but if there's anyone who deserves to see her first it's you, you're left in your room lying in bed rightfully exhausted and still somewhat out there due to the anesthesia but you're still aware enough that you smile tiredly at the sight of Marshall carefully walking on the ground with the bundle wrapped in his arms.

"Hi dear," you greet him.

"Hey, sorry I couldn't be there with you."

"It's alright, I would've called you names by then," you chuckle weakly as you hold your arms out so Marshall can hand you the baby, immediately feeling your eyes prick up. "Hi there little one, so nice to finally meet you."

You take in the moment to hold your little one, placing your nose against the swirl of short hair on her head. "She's just like you, but so, small. I hope it's just the looks or we have a troublemaker in our hands." You joke, pulling her close to kiss her little forehead.

"I mean she kicked a lot before, I don't think we'll be getting a moment of peace from now on." Marshall plays along as well, wrapping an arm around you as he floats beside you.

"She's perfect as she is."

[emberfrostlovesloki]

11:11 [Emily x Reader]

Photo Credits: Left (@cheekycatlady) Center (@lockscreens-n-shit) Right (@@viciousclothing)

Prompt: Penelope and Derek play matchmaker after Emily meets the captivating and alternative reader who’s allegedly off the market at a shop where Prentiss is buying a gift for Garcia. A few weeks later, Emily and the reader have the chance to have what they’ve dreamed of for so long, a relationship, but will their differences and fears be too much to overcome? 

Pairing: Emily x Non-BAU!Reader, Fem!Reader, Alnterative-Goth!Reader. The reader uses she/her pronouns 

Category: Fluff/comfort

Word Count: 8.9K 

Content Warnings: Language, unwanted attention (reader and Emily), if I missed any, please let me know. 

A/N: Hi all! I hope you are all doing very well! This fic is for the amazing @imagining-in-the-margins’s Pride Writing Challenge! I used the dialog prompt “Are they… flirting?” “Big time.” This fic is a lot more fluffy than my usual stuff, but it was nice to just write something romantic for Emily. The reader is described as a goth and a fan of horror, but if those are not your aesthetics, you can swap those parts out for what you like. I do mention a horror film scholar, but I try to explain her ideas accurately. Emily is a gem of a character and I hope I captured her well in this fic. Please be kind to yourselves this week and do something you love, you are so special. If you enjoy this fic, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Love Levi - ❤️

List with all stories 

y/n = your name 

y/c = your complexion 

y/f/d = your favorite drink (alcoholic, non-alcoholic, soda, you decide) 

Emily pulled into the small strip mall a thirty-minute drive from her house. It wasn’t what she’d expected exactly. It seemed… boring. Em sighed and thought, ‘Aren’t all strip malls boring? This is a strip mall, not a strip club, and you're here for Penelope, not you.’ With a hint of a smile, Prentiss got out of her car and pulled her purse and iced coffee from the front seat cup holder. She yawned and put her glasses on as the mid-afternoon sun glared down on her. She had stayed up late from another mid-date last night, thus the tiredness. It hadn’t been bad per se, just boring. After talking about shared interests, the man she’d seen started talking about his exes and how Emily reminded him of each of them. The only good thing about the man was that he’d taken them to a nice bar and promised to pay the tab. So Emily had gone overboard with her drinks. When she’d gotten a glass of the nicest champagne on the menu, she realized she could just sit and listen to this man ramble on and call it performance art the next day. However, even the Advil she’d popped last night after she’d gotten home hadn’t cured her hangover. 

The little bell on the door rang as Emily entered the store. It took a second for her to put down her coffee on a small table by the door with some pamphlets encouraging a yarn crawl next month and remove her sunglasses to see the inside of the store properly. Prentiss was here to get Penelope a small gift after she’d admitted to feeling down after a rough case. It seemed Garcia’s girlhood hobby of crochet had come back to life after she’d seen a cute sweater online, so Em was going to get her some good quality supplies, or at least a gift card if she couldn’t pick out what felt right in the store. The fiber arts weren’t really her thing, and as she saw the front display, pastel rainbows of yarn skeins, and a sample shawl to celebrate Pride Month along with a variety of needles and hooks on the adjacent wall, she felt lost. More lost than if she was at a crime scene. 

The soft, “Can I help you find something?” had Prentiss whip around on her heel and see the woman she hadn’t noticed as she walked into the store. Em blamed her hangover, but couldn’t say the same for when she opened and closed her mouth once or twice as she took in the employee behind the counter. Perhaps Emily had expected a little old lady or a mom type to work at a place like this, but she hadn’t expected a young woman standing in all black and what could only be described as vampiric-looking makeup and accessories. The words, whatever she was trying to say or might have said to this type of person escaped her. 

The woman behind the counter seemed to flush, but it was hard to tell with her dark blush, given her y/c and intentionally washed-out tired look. It was the type of look Spencer had unintentionally. The employee looked behind the counter to get the pretty woman’s eyes off of her for a moment. y/n hadn’t expected to be visually dissected this afternoon. She wondered if she had something in her teeth and how embarrassing that would be in front of someone as pretty as the statuesque woman on the other side of the counter. 

Emily finally recovered and coughed slightly, now her blush of embarrassment flooded her cheeks as she said, “I’m sorry. I suppose I didn’t see you there when I walked in. I haven’t been to a place like this before. I’m trying to get some things for my friend. She’s into crocheting I think. I googled yarn stores in town and apart from the big craft store this is the only one that came up…” Em stopped talking when she realized that she was rambling and the woman moved from behind the counter letting out a chuckle. It looked strange on someone who dressed so severely. y/n said, “Well, welcome in. I can show you around and make some recommendations if you’d like. Does your friend have a favorite color? Do you know if she wants to make something in particular?” Emily let out a sigh, relieved that her behavior and lack of knowledge weren’t mocked. She guessed that there wasn’t a ton of gatekeeping in the crochet community, but she didn’t know. Em swallowed and said, “Well my friend loves pink or any bright colors. As for her projects, I only know she likes working with bigger threads. She says it makes the projects go faster?” 

y/n nodded. This poor, but beautiful woman was out of her depth here. However, y/n never judged. Knitting and crocheting wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea. Often people just thought it was for the geriatric, though that was far from the truth. y/n had to correct the woman, she couldn’t stop herself as she said, “Yarn.” The customer looked up and said, “Huh?” softly, and y/n felt herself heating up again as she said, “It’s yarn, not thread. Sorry I can’t stop myself from correcting people when they say that. I’m, y/n. What’s your name?” y/n didn’t mean to sound condescending as she corrected the woman, it just slipped out. She tried to recover herself by asking the woman’s name; she was striking. 

Thankfully, after a split second, Emily extended her hand and said, “Emily. I’m Emily. It’s nice to meet you y/n, and don’t apologize. I’m sure I sound like an idiot, so correct me as much as you need or feel like it. I won’t be offended.” y/n smiled and shook Em’s hand twice already enjoying her sense of humor. Emily couldn’t help but look at y/n’s long dark nails that matched her clear glossed, blood colored lips. y/n let Emily’s hand go and pointed toward the back right side of the store and said, “I think this side of the store is what you’ll be looking for. It’s our DK and bulky weight yarn section.” Em nodded like she understood what that meant and followed behind y/n looking at all the pretty skeins and knit and crochet samples on display. Even though Prentiss never thought this would be her niche, it was a very calming and pretty environment. It helped that the playlist that was on in the background had already played music she liked. Emily looked back for a moment at the comfy-looking chairs by the window and could picture herself sitting there for a few hours. 

Emily came back to the moment and realized she was getting distracted. She was firmly in the right section now as the yarn on the shelves looked like Penelope would love them. There was hot pink, yellow, and some purple yarn with sequins already threaded in the yarn. Emiy’s eyes looked around and y/n said, “I’ll let you look around for a bit. The yarn on the middle shelf is our most popular, but if you’re looking for something that’s a bit more affordable, because this stuff can get expensive pretty fast, is on the left and it’s still good quality too.” Emily nodded. She hadn’t even looked at a price tag yet. Money hadn’t crossed her mind. She had been too busy looking at the pretty colors, chairs, and sales assistant. y/n brushed past Em and back up toward the counter and said over her shoulder, “Hollar if you have any questions or if you need anything.” Prentiss turned her head and said, “Thanks,” as she watched y/n move back toward the front counter, her high-top Doc Martens giving her an inch in height that she didn’t have naturally.  

Em tore her eyes away once y/n was just out of sight. It wasn’t a big store, but the shelves that housed the yarn made it impossible for her to see y/n. Emily now turned to the skeins of yarn and picked up the hot pink skein that had first caught her eye. y/n’s comment about price made her look at the price tag, and Prentiss whistled under her breath. ‘$35.00 for some yarn?’ she thought. ‘What are they doing hand-picking sheep and making them eat strawberries until they turn pink?’ That sarcastic line of thinking did take her to the real conclusion, however, that unless yarn was cheap and mass-manufactured in a store, it must take a lot of time and effort to get that kind of color and quality. With the prices in mind now, Emily picked between five yarn colors that looked like Garcia’s favorites and picked her top three from the bunch. She decided on the hot pink, the purple sequined yarn, and a lime green tucked in the corner of a shelf. Happy with her choices, Emily moved around the store to look at the rest of what was there. As was natural for Prentiss, she was drawn to the jewel tones and more delicate yarn. The deep and rich colors reminded her of fall, her favorite sweaters, and hot lattes. She let out a sigh of longing for it to be cool again. For a second she felt eyes on the back of her neck, and she turned her face up sharply to see y/n just move her head toward the front door as if she was expecting someone to walk in. Emily turned her head again and bit the inside of her mouth. Why was y/n so cool? She tried to pinpoint why the woman at the front was having such an effect on her. 

She attributed it to three things. The first was the attitude. y/n had a very nonchalant attitude -- one that said that anything could happen and she wouldn’t be phased. Secondly, there was the confidence to wear what she wanted. Not that Emily had a choice, she was forced into the confines of business casual, but even if she wasn’t, she wasn’t sure she’d have the confidence to wear what y/n was. Lastly, y/n just seemed to be a really good person. It was based only on a feeling, but being an FBI profiler did have its advantages like getting a good reading on people. Prentiss let out a sigh, she was being silly and she knew it. She took one last look at some of the items displaying what the yarn could make and do before she moved to the counter. y/n smiled at Em and said, “Those are some pretty colors, I bet your friend will love them!” Prentiss nodded and said, “I’m sure she will. I’m happy I know about this place now, this could be good for gifts for some people I know.” Emily paused before asking, “Do you own the shop.” y/n chuckled and nodded her head no replying, “No. I just work here part time. I kind of grew up here though. It’s very special to me.” Em could tell. She wanted to ask more, but it would be awkward, so she didn’t. 

y/n sensed the shift in conversation and said, “Alright, well do you want these wound into cakes, or do you want to keep them in skeins?” The look of incredulity on Emily’s face had y/n laugh, pick up the pink yarn, and say, “So see how this is twisted into something that’s easy to hold?” Prentiss nodded yes, not having even thought about that. y/n continued, “So in order to work with this yarn, you have to unwind and rewind it into a ball, or you can use a machine to create what’s called a yarn cake. It’s easier to work with, but you, or your friend, can to this at home too.” Emily bit the side of her mouth and couldn’t think about what Garcia would want. She went on the safe side and said, “I think I’ll just take them as they are for now. If she brings them back would you still wind them for her?” y/n replied, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy to. She or you can come in anytime.” Prentiss looked up at y/n a bit surprised by the woman’s tone, and y/n winked at her. Again, Emily found herself a bit speechless and y/n continued like nothing had happened, “Okay, can I get anything else for you? Some hooks of needles, or is it just the yarn today?” 

Emily recovered just a bit out of breath, and said, “Um, that’s it. Thanks. You helped me a lot.” y/n smiled and said, “I’m happy to help. It is literally my job, as much as I’d like to just sit here and knit or read, life seems to have other plans.” There was a pause, like y/n was thinking about something and continued putting the yarn in a plastic bag before saying, “Because it’s your first time here I’m going to give you some free stitch markers and a crochet hook size gauge.” Emily nodded her appriciation. She could guess what the stitch markers were for, as for the guage device, she didn’t, but she was sure that Penelope would. Em took a closer look at y/n who was looking at the screen to ring up her total. The shape of y/n’s face and lips were alluring. Her dark eye shadow and long lashes fluttered open and closed as she concentrated. y/n caught Emily looking for a split second but looked back at the computer, a ghost of a smile on the edges of her lips. The small interactions between the two of them sent a thrill through Em. When y/n had given Prentiss her total, she handed over her card and in a moment, they were done. y/n handed Emily her bag and said, “Thanks for stopping in. I hope I see you again soon.” Prentiss nodded, moved toward the door, and said, “Thanks. Me too, y/n.” With that, Emily left the small shop and walked back into the sun. Prentiss made it to her car and sat down, putting her sunglasses back on. As she turned the key in the ignition, in the very back recesses of her mind, she hoped she’d see y/n again tonight in her dreams. Em heaved a sigh and decided she’d grab a smoothie or a juice on the way home, her hangover long forgotten. 

Penelope was thrilled when she opened her impromptu gift from Emily the next week. Garcia’s smiles, thanks, and hugs would make anyone feel good, Em believed. This was helpful to Em as she felt the loneliness of life creeping back into her bones. She really wasn’t one to believe in biological determinism, but the more old friends and co-workers from school that started getting married, or more likely, having babies, the harder it was to come home alone all the time. Alone to an empty apartment, and an even emptier bed. She sighed into Penny’s hug, hoping the feelings would stick for a while. It’s not that she was desperate for attention, or heaven forbid a child, but she wanted someone to be with, to share her bad jokes with, or rest her head on. Of course, Emily knew she could do this, life, by herself, she just didn’t want to. Emily pulled back as Garcia asked, “Where did you get these, there’re so beautiful. I want to get like twenty more skeins. God the color saturation is perfect, p e r f e c t, Em. you know me so well.” Emily smiled and said, “It’s this small shop on my side of town. I was shocked that you hadn’t been there before.” Pen sighed and said, “Well to be honest I have a huge yarn stash already, so I decided to just try and use up what I had a home, but now that you’ve gotten me this stuff, I have an excuse to go and get enough new yarn in the same colors so make a sweater.” Prentiss chuckled at her ability to influence Penelope’s financial choices, but it was all in good fun. 

That good fun had Prentiss and Morgan in Garcia’s car two weeks later moving from brunch toward the yarn store. Prentiss’s thoughts flashed to y/n, and she wondered if the pretty woman would be working today. She hadn’t expected to be back to the store this shortly, but the idea of a space to just relax and be from her first time at the shop flashed in her mind, and of course, if y/n was there, it would be nice to see her again too. Emily was sure Penelope would take Derek around the shop for a good hour, much to Morgan’s faux chagrin at his ‘time being wasted.’ 

The trio arrived at the yarn store, Love and Needles, and Morgan made a quip about the kind of love the patrons got. He, as Em could tell, had very much made the assumption she had about knitting as a hobby before she’d gone into the store and seen y/n. That the clients were old. Emily was please when she stepped in to see y/n sitting at the desk. Penelope had already started a lively conversation with her and Derek was standing back a few steps his mouth open in shock. 

y/n looked past Garcia at Morgan and gave him a small smile, showing a flash of her teeth which had the strong agent close his mouth quickly and stand up straighter. This made Emily duck her head as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She raised her head when y/n said, “It’s nice to see you again, Em,” with a small wave of her hand. Derek’s eyes danced between Emily and y/n and he tried to hide a small cough but didn’t do it well. Prentiss elbowed him in the ribs, and he stopped making noise. Emily rolled her eyes and Penelope retook over the conversation they had started and said to y/n, “Well I’ll come back and harass you about those shoes in about an hour. For now, I’m going to oooh and aaah at yarn, and probably spend my whole paycheck too.” Garcia took a split second to look at Emily and the blush that was still painting her face read and took Derek by the hand and said, “You, Mr. Morgan, with me. Maybe one day you’ll date a knitter, and you can impress her with your knowledge of the fiber arts.” Derek raised his hands in surrender and let Pen lead him farther into the store.

Emily looked after her friends, not sure to follow, stay planted, or maybe test out those comfy-looking couches by the window. She was pulled from her thoughts as y/n said, “So, how have you been? I think your friends are keen by the way. I wish I had some like that.” Em let out a small breath and replied, “Yeah, In terms of how friends go, they’re about the best you could ask for.” Prentiss cocked her head to the side, wondering why, and how it was possible for someone as magnetic as y/n to not make friends. Emily remembered the first half of y/n’s conversation starter and said, “And I’ve been okay. Nothing too exciting. Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork, and a few bad dates. How about you?” 

y/n gave off the vibe that she went to raves or drank red wine in a speak easy. y/n moved from behind the counter and leaned on the opposite side of where she’d just been. y/n studied Prentiss for a moment, taking in her outfit which consisted of a white shirt, corduroy pants, and a small kitten heel. It didn’t match y/n’s heavy-looking platform shoes, black tights, and dress. y/n was wearing the same makeup as the first time Em had seen her, except maybe the lips were darker today. After a moment y/n replied, “I’ve been fine. Nothing major to report.” There was another pause before y/n continued, “Maybe you could get off the apps for a bit? I found when I decided to take a hiatus it gave me some peace of mind. I had no hypothetical woman to please. I could just be me for once without any expectations.” y/n sighed and pivoted the conversation back to Emily, self-conscious to be talking about her struggles in front of someone as pretty as the tall brunette. Instead, she said, “I suppose I didn’t see you working a corporate job. I think I’d die if I had to do paperwork all the time.” Prentiss wanted to correct y/n, that she was more interesting than a corporate job. That she was a profiler in the FBI, that she knew how to shoot a gun, and spoke five languages. 

But Em stopped herself, even if y/n was on the dating market, which she had just said she’d taken herself out of, and even if she did date women, Emily could see herself pulling at strings. That her heart was moving faster than her head, and if she didn’t slow it down, she’d make a real fool of herself. She’d done that one too many times this year, losing both her sense of discretion and judgment sleeping with men most or women who gave the short time of day to fuck. They’d be gone by the morning, or she would be. Not wanting commitment, but not wanting to be alone either. It was the aloneness that she blamed the most for her choices, and she wasn’t going to repeat that now. So Emily replied, “Well it’s kind of a corporate job if you count working for the government as corporate.” y/n let out a low whistle and said, “That’s the most corporate of corporate. I don’t envy you.” There was a pause and y/n said slowly, “So, do you have any secrets you can share?” As hard as Emily tried to keep her mind off of y/n that way, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing again at how her statement could be interpreted provocatively. Just as Em was about to answer the question, the phone behind the counter rang and y/n moved to answer it. Emily could tell the way y/n was speaking, loudly and slowly, that it was an elderly client, and the conversation might take a long time, so she moved to the couches to sit down. 

Unknown to Emily and y/n, Penelope and Derek had been looking and listening to the pair for a few minutes now. When the phone call had interrupted their conversation Garcia motioned for Morgan to follow her to the far corner of the store. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Derek leaned down and whispered to Penelope, “Are they… flirting?” Pen nodded in an exaggerated manner and whispered back, “Big time.” They both leaned over to look past the displays of yarn to peak at y/n and Em and then hid again like teenagers behind a locker. Garcia said, “They aren’t even talking and you tell they're flirting. What type of Timewarp have we gotten ourselves into where Emily is openly making eyes at someone?” Derek sighed and rolled his eyes responding, “One where she probably doesn’t ever make a move. You know Em, she’s as stubborn as an ox if she wants to be.” Garcia dropped her eyes to the ground and said softly, “Yeah. It’s fun to imagine though.” Morgan nodded and replied, “Well, if it seems okay, maybe we can pull some strings? Nothing huge, but they could be friends at least. They seem to get along well, but I doubt they’d run into each other in other circles, so we might have to nudge them in the right direction?” Penelope feigned being shocked and said, “Mon Cheri, are you suggesting a blind date?” Morgan held up his hands and said, “Well not that drastic, but it Emily seems okay with a chance meeting then I don’t see how it can hurt.” Garcia faked a pout and said, “You’re no fun.” 

After another moment of snickering from the duo of friends, Morgan and Garcia moved back to the front of the store and like they’ve known each other for years, Penelope chatted with y/n sharing the best shoe, accessory, and makeup brands. Meanwhile, Derek moved to sit next to Emily. She smiled at him and asked, “So, are you ready to woo a woman with your knowledge of crochet?” Morgan smiled and said, “I’ve already done that. My mom crochets, so I at least know the difference between crochet and knitting, and that weaving in the ends is the worst part of a project which is more than most men I know.” Emily gave him a small smile and replied, “Morgan, you really are a lady's man.” Derek chuckled and gave a little salute of appreciation. 

After a few more minutes, the trio left the shop and it didn’t pass up Morgan or Garcia that after y/n had said goodbye to them, she said specifically to Em, “It was good to see you again, Em. I hope to catch you around sometime.” Everyone piled into Pen’s car with Emily taking the passenger seat while Derek smushed himself in the back. Once everyone was safely buckled up, they moved toward Morgan’s apartment first. As they sat and the Spotify played Garcia’s favorite playlist, Derek teased Emily by saying, “I didn’t know you went for the Abby from NCIS characters, Prentiss.” Em twisted in her seat and said, “Morgan give me a break. Even  you thought she was hot and you can’t deny it.” Derek let out one of his low laughs that reverberated though his chest. The kind that could make anyone laugh if they were having a bad day. Em loosened up as Derek replied, “I’m not denying it. She was hot. I just didn’t realize she was your type.” 

Emily sat back in her seat and closed her eyes as she said, “Neither did I.” She meant it to sound like a funny retort or quip, but in reality, there was a longing that neither Penelope nor Derek had heard from her before. Everyone remained quiet and just let the radio play until Penelope pulled up to Derek’s house. He hopped out of the car, then hugged Garcia though the driver’s side window, and then moved to Emily’s side and said, “Keep your chin up Em. You’re a real catch.” Prentiss thanked him; she knew she wasn’t teasing, or being facetious. When Morgan was real, he was real and that was why he was such a good friend. He was never afraid to be honest with his emotions which was a rarity in men. Derek waved at his friends and then moved into his house after calling out, “See you on Monday!”  

Once Derek was at this door, Garcia pulled away from the sidewalk and toward Emily’s apartment. There was a silence for a while before Penelope turned to Em and asked, “You doing okay? You know Morgan and I don’t mean anything cruel when we ask you about the people you like. You just hardly show interest anymore, and you used to be so excited to be going on dates, or when you found someone attractive.” Prentiss sighed and said, “Because I used to be excited about those things, Pen. I used to love the thrill of a first date, or seeing someone hot on the street, but I’ve tried so much and I just don’t seem to be anyone’s someone. I’m too bitter, or busy, or gay. I’ve been fetishized for being bi and shamed for having dated men. I just, feel like I’ve lost that spark, that rush that I used to get. To be honest, I gave myself away so much this year, that I think I need a break, and besides that, I don’t know if I’m y/n’s cup of tea either. She’s alternative, and that makes her stand out, I do think it’s very attractive, but I don’t want to fetishize that part of her either. I don’t want to put her in a stressful positon. She told me she’d taken herself off the dating market today at the store, so asking her out seems like pressing her boundaries, even if it is fun to have her wink at me.” Emily ran her hands through her hair in frustration and said, “I mean listen to me. I sound like a high school cheerleader trying to date the budding artist. It just sounds silly.” 

Penelope looked over at her friend and said, “Yeah, well it might feel and sound silly, but your feelings still matter. You feeling lonely and wanting someone to be with still hurts. I know that as well as anyone, even if I’m good at hiding it with all my sparkle and banter with Morgan.” Emily nodded and looked at Penelope. As opposite as they were in demeanor, they both shared the deep long for belonging somewhere. They just hid that want in different ways. Em let a small smile cross her lips as she wiped away a tear from the corner of her eye before Penny could see, and she replied, “Thanks, Garcia. Thanks for being my friend and making me laugh. I don’t deserve you.” Pen let out a bright laugh and said, “You’ll never get rid of me girlfriend. And don’t give up hope. Things change, everything changes with time.” The rest of the ride was mostly quiet as both women thought about their feelings and shared in the mutual pain that most women felt at some point in their lives. When Garica pulled up to Emily’s house, the tall agent leaned over and hugged the Technical Analyst, holding her tight, then she pulled back and said, “Listen Pen, if I start adopting cats, promise you’ll still hang out with me?” Garcia smiled and said, “Darling, I’m already giving them a name.” With that, Emily got out of the car and went inside. She turned on her record player and poured a glass of wine. She’d just bought a new book and decided to relax and read for the rest of the day. 

It was a month later, and Penelope and y/n had started spending more time together. Like most people, y/n liked the brightness that Garcia brought to a friendship, and how real she was. It was safe to say that y/n was shocked when she found out what Emily and Derek did for work. As she and Garcia walked around an outdoor mall, boba in hand, y/n said, “Wait, Em’s in the FBI? You’re in the FBI! She told me she worked for the government. I thought she meant like the IRA or something.” Penelope nearly choked on her drink as y/n said this. After coughing a few times Penelope responded, “No wonder she doesn’t get close to anyone. She’s lying by omission about how awesome she is.” y/n gave Pen a pat on the back and they kept walking. y/n started asking more questions about the team. After more window shopping and trying things on, Penelope said, “I should tell Emily to be more honest. Really.” y/n stopped in her tracks and said quickly, “Please don’t. At least don’t say I was part of it.” Garcia stopped and looked up at y/n. y/n had the corner of her dark lip inside her mouth and was wearing a face of concern. It was the first time Penelope had seen her like this. The fluorescent lights of the store made her look more ghostly than ever, her darker tones striking against her makeup and dark hair. The shine on her black shoes glistened. Although Penelope wasn’t a profiler, she’d hung around the BAU long enough to know that the quick and urgent tone from y/n meant something more. It hadn’t gone past Pen that y/n seemed to casually bring Agent Prentiss up in conversation. y/n seemed to notice her new friend's change of attitude and said, “I mean, I assume that Em has a reason for not telling me that. Like I don’t want her to think she was holding out on me. I don’t tell everyone everything when I first meet them either. It’s like when douchebags ask me the meaning behind my tattoos in an attempt to get to know me. Am I supposed to tell them my whole life story or just lie and say it’s for aesthetics because honestly, both are true? And yeah, I just don’t want Emily to feel any pressure to explain herself, at least not to me.” y/n flushed. She hated that when she got flustered she used so many qualifying words, ‘but,’ ‘like,’ and ‘and’ flowed out of her mouth like she was sixteen and figuring out her sexuality again. 

Garcia smiled and nodded. Maybe y/n didn’t see it, but y/n was down bad for Emily, and it made Pen’s heart swim. It didn’t hurt that Emily asked every Monday afternoon, when Em made a pitstop at Garcia’s office with a soda to ask if she had seen y/n at all over the weekend. It was funnier because Prentiss was much worse at hiding her crush than y/n. It was still another week before y/n texted Garcia: Is Emily seeing anyone right now? Does she like… you know… women?” Penelope let out a squeal and moved to find Derek and share the news that y/n was asking about Prentiss. Even if Morgan had kept a further distance from Garcia’s matchmaking, he loved the drama of it. The pair spitballed responses, and they finally settled on, “No, she’s currently not seeing anyone. And yes. Solid yes.” They both waited giddily for another response from y/n. It wasn’t until the end of the day that y/n said, “I want to hang out with her, but I’ve only met her twice and I don’t know a lot about her. She doesn’t have much on social media. What are some things she’s into? Music? Movies? Food?” Penelope chuckled and sent a few options: “Books, Queer Films, Lectures, Good Wine and cheese.” y/n shot back a thank you and then asked if she could steal Emily’s number from Penelope, promising that she really wasn’t a stalker or serial killer in disguise. Garcia happily replied with Prentiss’s number. 

It took y/n a week of research and building herself up before she found something that she thought she and Emily would enjoy. A local college was hosting Carol Clover, author of Men, Women, and Chainsaws to give a talk about her famous construct of the Final Girl. This would meet Emily’s love of queer film and academia and give y/n a chance to hear about the horror genre, which she enjoyed. Then there was the fear of actually texting Emily. The FBI agent had seemed so kind, and yet at the same time intimidating. Surely she couldn’t like someone as non-tradition as her? Not when she got dirty looks in public, frowning parents shielding their child's eyes from her body. Was it so profane to want to be yourself? Pushing her doubts aside y/n texted Emily saying that she had gotten her number from Garcia and that she was interested in going to a lecture next weekend and if Em would be interested in joining her. 

When Penelope heard a knock on her doorframe, she looked up to see Emily holding her phone up. Before Garcia could read what was on the screen, Prentiss said, “Pen, did you give y/n my number?” Penelope nodded and said, “Yeah, did she text you?” Em seemed to relax and say, “Yeah. I think she’s asking me out, maybe? Or maybe I’m just reading into it? She said she was on a dating break the last time I saw her, which was like last month. I kind of assumed she might have forgotten about me. I don’t know why she’d be interested in someone as boring as me?” Garcia could see the doubt in Emily’s face. The want for it to be more than just hanging out. That feeling that she and Derek could feel in the yarn shop. Em was questioning that. Even if Penelope had a good idea that y/n liked, liked her friend, she didn’t want to set her up with false hope. So with a steadying breath, Garcia said, “Em. I don’t know y/n that well. We’re not at telepathy levels of friendship yet, but I will say I don’t think she’s asking you to hangout for nothing. Like I said, things change and you won’t know if she’s trying to get to know you that way unless you go and find out. Or, you could be a stick in the mud and just tell her no, which would send a pretty clear signal from your end.” Em sighed and knew that Garcia was saying if she wanted clarity, then she needed to be clear. To take a risk. However, the hesitation was still there. To be let down again would be so hard. So painful. But not knowing, that would kill her more. If she missed someone as charismatic as y/n, then she would have really missed, so she gave herself the day to make a choice, be a coward, or give it one last chance. That’s what Emily said to Pen, and frustratingly, Penelope didn’t think that she was going to hear more about it until much later that evening when y/n texted her: She said YES! It was safe to say that both y/n and Penny spent the next hour freaking out over the news. 

Emily looked around the lecture hall. It was big and fancy, and already filling with people. Prentiss had struggled to find parking and ended up having to go into a parking garage across the street. y/n had already texted her that she was inside and had saved them seats. Em looked at the quickly filling seats. There was an odd mixture of people assembled in the modern and sleek room. There were film bros, students, and more none-descript people milling around and looking for a spot to sit. Emily let out a relieved sigh that she hadn’t over, or underdressed. She had opted for a maroon shirt and a knee-length skirt with nude tights on underneath. Unlike the last two times, Emily was wearing heals. They were black and elongated her legs. She wasn’t trying to send any strong signals that she was more than excited that y/n had reached out. Prentiss was starting to get worried because she hadn’t seen y/n yet. Em’s past fears of being stood up creeping back in her. She clutched her purse strap fiddling with the zipper. Finally, a larger man moved into the aisle, and Emily caught sight of y/n. y/n was looking around for Emily as well with a nervous glance. When their eyes met, y/n’s face brightened and she smiled and waved. Prentiss let out a breath and moved toward y/n. 

y/n had felt the same anxiety Emily had. She’d dressed down a little. She didn’t want her style to stick out like a sore thumb. She’d opted for black mary-janes and tights along with some shorts, a black turtle neck that was too hot for the weather, her toned-down makeup with a blood-red lip, and lots of silver jewelry. She hoped it wasn’t too much. y/n was less worried about her appearance as she beamed at Em. She was glorious as normal. y/n might have dressed in an intimidating way, but Emily was the one with the confidence. The one that could move through a crowd seamlessly. The power she held with just her presence. y/n thought for a moment about Emily’s job. About what she did every day to keep people safe. y/n still hadn’t told Em that she knew about her real work, but y/n expected Emily would have figured out she knew by now. And if she didn’t, then she’d let Em bring it up on her own time. For now, y/n extended her arms slightly at her sides and she and Prentiss hugged lightly. y/n breathed in Emily’s scent for the first time, floral and bright. y/n pulled back and said, “Thanks for coming.” y/n wanted to ask how her day was, and if anything interesting had happened since they’d last laid eyes on each other. And maybe why did you agree to come out with me? But all of that was made impossible by the host of the lecture tapping on the mic and the lights being lowered in the hall. Em and y/n quieted, as did the rest of the audience and everyone took a set. 

y/n was excited for the lecture, she loved horror, so getting to spend this time sitting next to Emily had the blood rush in her ears and her heart beating in her chest, even though she wasn’t sure if Em liked her like that. There was a clear energy between the two women seated near the back left of the room, like an electric current passing between them. Both Em and y/n listened with rapt attention. Emily perhaps a bit more at y/n than Clover. She loved to see y/n, so excited and happy. Plus the content was interesting even if she didn’t understand all of it. Every so often Prentiss would lean down and ask y/n a clarifying question which y/n happily answered in a whisper. There was one moment in the lecture where Clover mentioned the other characters in horror films apart from the Final Girl, the ones that die, stating, “The Final girl is chaste and tom-boyish. But the first victims are often popular or outcasts. The loner, the cheerleader having sex with the football player. And unfortunately, the queer characters. Remember, this was the 80s and even if the trope of ‘bury your gays’ hadn’t been coined yet, it was still heavily used.” At hearing this, y/n couldn’t help herself but lean over to Emily and whisper, “Wait, is this fucking play about us?” Emily almost choked trying to hold in her laughter, and y/n had to pat her on the back to help her calm down. Em was beet red at the comment and her reaction, and they both got a tut-tut from the people sitting next to them. y/n smiled and didn’t make any more comments, however, she did move her right hand out on her leg turning her hand palm up, and when Emily took it in her own, she was filled with a warmth that no turtle neck or sweater could give her. 

After the lecturer, y/n and Emily moved to a bar because they hadn’t had any time to talk before hand. Emily drove them there in her car, but it was y/n’s recommendation. As soon as Emily walked into a bar with y/n holding her hand, she knew it was a gay bar. Not that that was a bad thing, in fact, it was comforting. Emily didn’t go out much, and if she did, she hadn’t really thought to go to a place like this. On her dates, she did coffee or dinner, and no one, not even the women she’d seen had recommended a gay bar. So Prentiss drank it in. Not that it was very different from other bars, but there was more space on the floor for dancing, plus the music choices were different. While Emily was looking around, y/n led her to the bar and the bartender said, “Hey, y/n. How’ve you been. I haven’t seen you in months,” over the music. y/n smiled, and in her normal nonchalant manner, she shrugged her shoulders and said, “You know, alright I guess. How about you, Blaine? You holding up?” The man smiled and replied, “Oh, I’m good. It’s good to know you’re well. Now, what will you and your friend be drinking tonight?” y/n turned to Emily and got her order for a cosmo, and she got y/f/d. The cold glasses were ready in a few minutes, and y/n started a tab before heading to a table. 

The surface of the table was slightly sticky, but neither woman cared. They set their drinks on napkins and talked about their days, what they liked, and just life as a woman. As a woman wanting things. y/n looked past Emily for a moment as she said, “Sometimes I think wanting as a woman is a curse. Is there anything I can desire without being shamed, guilted, or ignored?” Emily frowned slightly. They were both two drinks in, and she could feel a slight buzz making her body warm and flushed. Not overthinking it, Em moved her hand across the table and placed it on y/n’s cheek, brushing the pad of her thumb down her jaw. y/n swallowed at the feeling as her stomach did somersaults. Emily watched y/n’s pupils dilate and she said, “You shouldn’t feel ashamed for wanting things. Even if other people make you feel that way.” Em paused and took a breath before saying, “I, I want to spend time with you. I have since the first day that I saw you. And I felt bad for that, and I feel bad because you said you weren’t looking, and I wasn’t honest. And even though I feel bad about that, I still wanted that and I’m not going to beat myself up about it. It’s okay to want. I’ve kept things from you too.” y/n looked at the table and then back up to Emily saying, “I wanted to be with you too. To know who you are. What makes you such a good person, so strong? And it’s okay to keep things hidden. Maybe not forever, but there’s a comfort in that. I understand.” The tone with which y/n said she ‘understood’ told Emily that y/n knew what she’d kept hidden. Her job. It felt silly now, but y/n seemed to get it and would indulge her for now. Em would tell her for sure if they kept seeing each other after tonight, but it was nice to feel so free. 

After a moment, Prentiss asked, “So is there something you want now, y/n?” y/n nodded, suddenly shy, and replied, “How about a dance?” Emily smiled and nodded, extending her hand out for y/n, which she took. The pair moved on to the dance floor which was crowded, but the bodies felt less pressed together than at a normal bar. There just seemed to be less pressure to be so close, instead Em and y/n just let loose and let their inhibitions let them move close to each other. At one point y/n helped Emily do a little twirl which she loved. After Em had straightened from being dipped down, a man tapped her on the shoulder and asked, “Might I cut in?” The fun Emily was having was instantly cut short as she said, “No. You can’t. I’m with someone right now.” Prentiss watched y/n change her face to one of disdain, it looked natural on her, pretty, ethereal even. And y/n leveled that look at the man who had cut off their shared joy. The man didn’t seem intimidated by y/n and he scoffed brushing harshly past Emily he asked y/n, “how about you, Babe? You down for a dance. You look like you need to lighten up. Maybe get laid by a real man?” y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed and said, “In your dreams, Babe, Now if you don’t mind, you can fuck off.” The man puffed his chest, offended to be rebuffed twice, but y/n didn’t back down with her glare and finally, the man moved away muttering something about ‘stuck up bitches,’ under his breath. 

y/n moved closer to Emily and took her hands in hers, checking in. “Hey, sorry about that. I swear to God I’m like the worst man magnet. Would you check and see if there’s a sign on my back that reads, ‘Lesbian, step right up?’” y/n turned around and Emily let out a laugh, turning y/n around by the shoulders leaning in and kissing her. y/n’s eyes opened in shock, but the warmth and scent of Emily so close to her had her relax and lean into the kiss. It wasn’t super long, but Chappel Roan was playing in the background, and for y/n and Emily it was like all the hurt they’d felt for not being wanted for whatever reason washed away. y/n moved her hands to Emily’s back and preseed herself closer to Em taking in the moment so she could keep it forever in her mind. When y/n and Prentiss pulled away, Emily’s phone went off with a chirp. She flushed and pulled it from her purse. y/n was still close to Prentiss when she pulled out her phone, she stepped back to give Em some privacy. Emily looked up at her and said, “You don’t need to worry. It’s nothing super personal. Just Penelope being nosy and asking how it’s going.” y/n pursed her lips playfully and asked, “And… what are you going to tell her?” Emily shook her head and replied, “Well, I’ll let you know when I have an answer. So far, pretty good” Em was going to say “don’t you think,” but stopped herself when she saw the time. It was 11:11 and she continued speaking, changing her train of thought saying, “Quick y/n, it’s 11:11, make a wish?” 

y/n titled her head to the side and asked, “What?” Emily moved forward took y/n’s hands in hers and said, “close your eyes and make a wish, quick.” y/n did as she was told and closed her eyes. She scrunched her face in concentration as she made a wish. y/n opened her eyes and said, “Well I did it. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” Em smiled and said, “I’m kind of neurotic about it. Like a superstition. If I see it’s 11:11, I have to make a wish.” y/n nodded and they stood for a moment before Prentiss asked, “So, what did you wish for.” y/n chuckled and replied, “Come on now Em. you know if you say your wish out loud it doesn’t come true.” Prentiss smiled and said, “Well now I’m interested, how about you write it out for me?” y/n felt her chest constrict with excitement and apprehension. Could she? She wanted to, desperately, but it was so fast, too fast for someone like Emily. y/n looked at the woman she’d been brave enough to ask out and it was like she already knew. Em gave her a reassuring nod, and y/n moved back to their table. She pulled out a pen and wrote on her palm. y/n took a deep breath before placing the pen back in her purse and lifting her hand. 

The room was dark, the lights low as the light on the ceiling reflected off several disco balls. Emily had to lean in a bit to read the all-caps, slightly smudged: WILL YOU GO HOME WITH ME? Prentiss felt her heart swell, as she nodded her head. It was fast, yes, but it also felt right for the first time in so, so very long, Emily had waited for that, and she knew now was the time. y/n was smiling now and it wasn’t until she put her hand down that Em noticed that her nails were cut short. She moved in again and kissed y/n, her tongue sliding over y/n’s lower lip. y/n let her in, sucking in air while she could before their mouths closed around each other in a more passionate kiss. y/n let out a hum as they parted. She was half-breathless taking in air as she said, “How about we get out of here?” Em nodded, pecking y/n on the nose before taking her hand. They both grabbed their things from the table. They stepped out the door just as Teenage Dream started playing. Wish on hand, Em and y/n moved toward Em’s car, ready to find a place just for them. A place that was accepting and forgiving unlike how life had been for them before. Together, they could make that place.

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[cinnajun]

ᵕ̈ ೫˚∗: keep it quiet | ktr

summary | after an encounter with your best friend’s brother in the middle of the night, you can’t help but falling in love with him—and, perhaps he can’t help falling in love with you, too.

genre | kim taerae x fem!reader, university!au (but over the summer), best friend’s brother!au, y/n is an international student from the united states (sorry for all non usa people)

warnings | alcohol, i plagiarized business proposal, mentions of sex but not explicit

wc | 3.6k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAERAE!!!!! i’ve always felt like he was so best friend’s brother (+ hanbin is brother’s best friend in case u were wondering) so here’s my best friend’s brother taerae manifesto (@taerrrrrae asked to be tagged)

ft. kep1 members (dayeon is taerae’s sister), billlie members, lsfm members

i. silencieux

The moment you wake up, your head is spinning and you know you’re not drunk enough to throw up, but you sure feel like you’re going to. Kazuha is asleep with her head on your stomach, and you don’t remember when she ended up there (when you fell asleep, you know she was still playing Monopoly in the living room). To your right, Dayeon is asleep face down on the floor, snoring loudly, and to your left, Sheon and Tsuki had made it up to Dayeon’s bed.

The room is dark, which is disorienting, given you fell asleep when the fluorescent overhead light was still on. As best as you could, you removed Kazuha’s head from your stomach, trying to push yourself up off the floor. A glance at Dayeon’s Hello Kitty-themed, digital clock tells you that it’s 4:34 in the morning, which means you slept for around five-and-a-half hours.

During that time, you’d slept off a lot of the alcohol, but you were still feeling slightly buzzed—the buzz wasn’t enough to keep the hangover away, though. You must’ve drank your weight in vodka, which was not good for you, but Kazuha had insisted on you showing them what an American college kid party was like. And, since you’d been to a single frat party during your senior year of high school, you’d been able to pull it off to an extent (you ordered red solo cups and called it a day).

Deciding you needed to drink some water, you stumbled over Dayeon and emerged out into the hallway, nearly knocking into the wall as you did so. The house was empty as far as you were aware—her parents had gone on vacation, which was why you’d been able to drink all day in the first place. According to Dayeon, though, her older brother was supposedly getting home that night.

You assumed he would probably be asleep by now, so you continued on your conquest to the kitchen, practically falling down the stairs because you didn’t turn the light on. But, once you made it to the bottom, there was nothing in between you and getting your water.

Except for a boy sitting at the island in the kitchen, a mug in one hand and a phone in the other. He’d dimmed the lights in the room, which you didn’t know could happen, and he was blissfully unaware of your presence. At that moment, you registered the quiet sound of bossa nova playing as well, which meant he probably hadn’t heard you stumbling down the stairs.

You froze the moment you saw him, immediately weighing your options—you could either go back upstairs and search for water in Dayeon’s room (or just drink from the tap, which you didn’t want to do but would sacrifice if need be) or you sucked up the anxiety and got a huge cup of ice water.

You didn’t have time to decide, because he turned his head towards you, seemingly confused as to why you’d stopped. “Oh, I thought you were Dayeon,” he said, and you practically swooned.

You didn’t know Dayeon’s brother was point-blank beautiful. His voice was deep too, and you briefly wondered if he’d somehow stepped straight out from a k-drama. He was dressed like he was in a k-drama, too, wearing a black t-shirt and baggy, red sweatpants with a pair of wire-rimmed glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose.

“Um, sorry,” you replied, feeling a bit stupid. Your voice sounded foreign in your ears, and you were praying to the gods above that you didn’t sound drunk still. Taerae shook his head, offering you a reassuring smile. You nearly passed out as a dimple bloomed on his cheek, and you began to wonder how Dayeon had never told you that her brother was perfect.

“No, go ahead and do whatever you need to do. I don’t think you were expecting me to be here.”

You nodded haphazardly, taking a few steps toward the cabinets. Taerae went back to scrolling on his phone, where you quickly realized he was reading a book. You picked up the pace, rushing past him and towards the cups that were on the counter. Grabbing one, you quickly filled it with ice and water, suddenly forgetting who was sitting behind you.

Hurriedly, you chugged the glass, practically rejoicing as the ice-cold water flowed down your throat. With a content sigh, you let one of the ice cubes fall into your mouth, and you began crunching on it.

“Are you the one that’s going to be staying with us this summer?”

You choked on the ice, panic flowing through your entire body. You practically swallowed the rest of the cube whole, spinning on the ball of your foot to face him. In your drunkenness, you’d forgotten that you were going to be living at this guy’s house for the rest of your summer and hadn’t even tried to make a good impression.

“Oh, yeah, right. That would be me, yes. I’m [First].”

“Taerae,” he replied. “If you ever need anything, let me know. I have a car.”

It took everything in you to keep your jaw from dropping. The more you learned about this guy, the more insane you felt—whenever Dayeon talked about him, she spoke like he was the biggest loser on the planet. But, right now, he seemed like the farthest thing from a loser.

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat. “I’m going to go back to sleep.”

He smiled at you again, nodding. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. If you’re up before me, the hangover medicine is in the mirror cabinet.”

You felt the warmth rush to your cheeks when he said that, and you rushed to put your glass in the sink and disappear from the room. “Thank you,” you mumbled, speed-walking around the island. Then, as if he was a psychic, he put his hand on the edge right as you walked into it, protecting you from the stabbing pain of a rock-hard corner. With much more fervor than the last time, you choked out another “Thank you!” before practically running up the stairs and back into the sweet escape of Dayeon’s bedroom.

ii. silencio

A couple of days into your stay at Dayeon’s house, you and Taerae found out that you both went to bed late and woke up early. As a result, your most active times were around the same time; so, the both of you often found yourselves sitting with one another.

Every night, it would be the same set-up: Taerae reading a book and drinking tea, which you found out was chamomile, while you sat across from him, working on the homework for your summer class. Then, at around 3 in the morning, you would pack up for the night. You’d then wake up before him and much before Dayeon, make your breakfast, and while you were eating, he would emerge in the morning.

You also quickly learned that Taerae had, quite literally, no flaws. Once, he sat next to you at the dining table, and he smelled like fresh laundry. On top of that, his breakfast of choice had been a piece of toast with raspberry jam which, for some reason, made you even more enamored with him.

During the day, Taerae didn’t go out much. If he did, he was going to see friends, and Dayeon seemed to be in love with one of his friends (his name was Gyuvin, and he was younger than her, which she didn’t like). She often told him to bring his friends over, but Taerae would just laugh at her and leave with car keys dangling from his hand.

He also restated his offer to take you anywhere you needed to go several times, though it was often directed to both you and Dayeon. You found that very sweet, especially for an older brother—a lot of things about his relationship with Dayeon were picturesque. If you’d had a sibling relationship like theirs, you figured you’d be a very different person.

All in all, he was very kind, which was fatal to anybody with a conscience (especially paired with his face). If the word “beautiful” was a person, you were half convinced that Taerae would be him.

You’d be, quite frankly, utterly stupid if you didn’t try and grow closer to him. So, that’s exactly what you did—at night, when Dayeon was fast asleep and you two were the only ones left alive in the house, you would emerge from the guest bedroom and sit with him. You never spoke unless he spoke first, and generally left him to his own devices, hoping somehow that just sitting in the same room as him would make him fall madly in love with you.

Soon enough, the two of you fell into a routine. You’d sit at the kitchen counter on one of their high stools, either studying or playing random games on your computer while you listened to a podcast. Taerae would read and drink tea, listening to various types of music (from jazz to trot, which you found entertaining).

Then, you made a bold move—instead of sitting at the kitchen counter, you sat yourself down at the table, in the opposite corner. Taerae looked at you for a brief moment but didn’t say anything, which made you feel decently impressed with yourself. In your delusion, you were convinced your plan was “working,” even though you had no proof that he viewed you as anything but Dayeon’s friend. 

And then, it happened. One night, Taerae was out with his friends later than usual, and you’d felt a little discouraged in pulling your little scheme to hang out with him. But, you figured that, if you didn’t go sit down there at least for the hours you usually did, you’d look suspicious (and fall behind on your schoolwork). So, you set up shop, spreading out your books and papers across the table while you compiled them into your notes.

When he got home, it was around 1 in the morning, and you could tell he was drunk from the way his cheeks were flushed (and the fact that he didn’t hang his car keys—in fact, his keys were nowhere to be found). He nodded at you as he walked to his room, shuffling his feet and yawning. You nodded back, suppressing the smile you felt itching at your lips. A moment later, he came out, wearing the same red sweatpants and black sweatshirt that he loved so much.

You then realized that you’d never been able to watch him make his tea, so you found yourself staring at him the entire time he did—from getting out the tea bags from the cabinet to him adding a plethora of little ingredients, like honey and a single drop of cream.

Then, he turned, and you immediately averted your eyes, staring at your computer screen. Taerae sat next to you instead of sitting on the opposite side, still leaving a chair in between you two. You felt yourself tense up but tried to give the illusion of being as relaxed as possible in hopes of keeping your silly crush a secret.

This time around, Taerae didn’t read a book and sat drinking his tea. He put his music on as usual, settling on the same samba jazz he’d been listening to the night you first met. He leaned back into his chair, and you continued to fight the urge to stare at him from the corner of your eye.

“You want to know something?” he asked, a little slur to his words. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Depends on what ‘something’ is.”

“We barely talk,” he began, laughing at himself. “But I think about you all the time. When we’re not sitting here together, I almost feel miserable. You live in my house and I still feel like we don’t spend enough time together.”

“Woah,” you said, eyes wide. “Are you sure you want to be saying this when you’re drunk?”

“When else would I say it?” he snorted, brushing his hair out of his face. He took another sip of his tea. “I’ll probably regret it in the morning, but at least it’s off my chest. Don’t tell me how you feel. Just go back to your work.”

You cleared your throat, buffering for a moment. Then, you did as he asked, and went back to furiously typing away at your study guide. About fifteen minutes later, Taerae got up and put his mug in the sink, disappearing deeper into the house—but he left the music playing.

iii. silentium

You didn’t see Taerae until the next night. He didn’t come down in the morning, and you noticed his shoes were gone from the rack next to the door. When you asked Dayeon when she emerged from her bedroom at nearly 1 pm, she said she’d gone to get his car and ended up deciding to spend the day with his friend Matthew.

You found it hard to keep a straight face in front of Dayeon for the rest of the day, wanting nothing more than to spill out all of your feelings to her, as she was your best friend. You also knew that she would likely be less than pleased that your stupid plan to get her brother to fall in love with you worked, so you kept your mouth shut.

It was also out of respect for Taerae, too, as he was probably dying of embarrassment while he was out with his friend. And, as you expected, he arrived back to the house well after Dayeon had passed out, eyebags prominent under his eyes.

You were sitting at the dining table playing Tetris, listening to a random podcast that talked about random items and events that piqued the hosts’ interest. He didn’t go into his room or make his tea this time, just sitting down next to you (with one seat in between, of course).

You took your AirPods out and paused your game, leaning back into your chair. “Sorry,” he said, drumming his fingers on the table. “If I made things weird, that’s not cool for you, ‘cause you don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll probably be out and about more when my parents come back.”

You stayed quiet, devising a plan in your head. Part of you was exasperated that your stupid sit-in-the-same-room tactic worked, and the other part of you was screaming in your head, banging on the walls, and giggling maniacally.

You slid into the chair that separated you two, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. Then, before he could turn to look at you, you planted a quick kiss on his cheek. You felt like a middle schooler doing that, but it was the only thing you could come up with before Taerae gave up and left you alone.

He turned to face you, eyes wide and cheeks red, like they’d been last night. For a moment, you stared at each other, not saying a word. Then, you got an idea that made your head spin at just the thought of it—it was cliche and straight out of a movie scene, but you couldn’t help but want to actualize it.

Taerae seemed to have the same idea, as he leaned over and kissed you with a sort of fervor that you weren’t expecting. You couldn’t help but return the kiss, putting your hands on the sides of his face and pulling him closer to you. He pulled away for a second, tugging his glasses off his face and practically throwing them on the table.

Taerae’s lips were soft against your own, plump and perfect to kiss. You were close enough now that you could smell his cologne, which was light and airy, and you felt like a thousand flowers were blooming in your chest. Taerae ran a hand through your hair, which nearly made you swoon (if you weren’t already swooning.

You must’ve made out for a good ten minutes (at least that’s what it felt like), hugging him close to you like if you were to let go he would disappear in a second. The only thing that managed to draw you apart was the loud sound of Dayeon’s bedroom door opening, which caused you to practically shove him away from you. You nearly fell out of your chair as you rushed to get back to your original seat, patting your hair down and shoving your AirPods into your ear.

Taerae grabbed his glasses, pushing them on carelessly while he stood from his chair and nearly ran to where he kept his tea mugs. He began making his nightly tea, although you could see his hands shaking as he filled his electric kettle with water.

Dayeon skipped down the stairs and over to you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and leaning down to hover her head above your shoulder. Then, she plucked out your earbud, putting her phone in front of your computer screen.

You prayed to every god that she couldn’t smell Taerae’s cologne on you, trying to focus on her screen. It was a wall of texts, the contact being easily identifiable as Taerae’s friend, Gyuvin. You scanned every word, bringing your hand up to scroll through them.

“He asked you out?” you blurted out, not thinking about the implications of saying that right behind her older brother. It was a panic reaction, a last-ditch attempt to get her away from you so she wouldn’t find out that you’d made out with her brother in her living room. Taerae spun around, and Dayeon detached herself from you immediately, staring at you with betrayal in her eyes. Taerae looked at her with betrayal in his eyes, too, and you suddenly realized that he knew that she had a thing for his friend.

“I knew Matthew wasn’t telling me something,” Taerae scoffed, causing Dayeon to shrink into herself. “How dare you date one of my friends? In what world is that legal?”

“Do you want a free pass to date one of mine?” Dayeon argued back, which caused you to look away with guilt filling your veins. “I’ve had a crush on him for years, I deserve this!”

You hoped that she never found out about you and Taerae.

iv. quiet

It was the night before Dayeon’s parents got home, two weeks before your dorms opened back up, and Dayeon had gone out with Gyuvin, one of his friends, and a couple of your friends. You’d been invited, but you lied and said you weren’t feeling well, thinking of the opportunity to spend the entire night, alone, with your now boyfriend.

Then, he went and ruined it. You stared at your neck in the mirror in absolute horror, looking at the red mark that was blooming on your skin. Taerae sat on the counter, watching you search through your plethora of makeup bags for the green concealer you’d bought back home.

“I can’t believe you did this to me,” you said, finally finding it in your bag of eyeliners. You immediately began dabbing it onto your neck, picking up your beauty blender and trying your best to blend it out.

“This is not my fault,” he shot back, frowning. “I barely even sucked that hard. This is on you. If you didn’t bruise so easily, we wouldn’t be here.”

You shivered, picking up your normal concealer and beginning to spread that out on the green blob you’d created. “Never phrase it like that again. And, for the record, you bit me. I felt it.”

He huffed, hopping off the counter and walking behind you, wrapping his hands around your waist. You blended out the normal concealer as well, letting out a sigh as it (mostly) disappeared. “The night before your parents come home and you do this to me. How cruel is that?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing. Then we won’t have to sneak around for two weeks, right?”

“I would rather die than have your parents assume that I’m having sex with their son, but okay,” you replied, sighing. You stared at him in the mirror, now, putting your hands on his arms. He stared back at you, putting his head on your shoulder. “Either way, I don’t like hickeys. My friends used to show up to school with them all the time, and sometimes they’d end the day with one they didn’t have at the beginning. It always grossed me out.”

“Then it’ll never happen again,” he replied, squeezing your middle. “Promise.”

Taerae kissed your shoulder, humming. “Dayeon’s getting home soon. We should go to bed.”

“Is she coming home?”

“Gyuvin texted me that he and Kazuha are bringing her back. He said she doesn’t feel well, and that she thinks you got her sick.”

“Awkward,” you giggled, nearly frowning when he let go of you. You turned to face him, and he put his hands on the counter, trapping you in between him and the ledge.

“Good night, my love,” he said, pecking you on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Be ready for our two weeks of hell.”

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else.”

thank you for reading !

[rosegoldthorns]

Okay so I am loving the idea the Damian might be a doctor so here's my Doctor Damian head cannons. (Specifically pediatrician)

-Swords are still very much a hobby

I like to think he has some wooden swords in his office. Definitely no metal ones even if they were bunt and definitely locked on the wall somehow. But whenever a kid needs to come to his office they have to ask about the swords. It's cool enough to distract the kid from the problems they're having and if they ask nicely Dr. Damian brings them let's them hold it. Damian breaks the ice with them. It's adorable.

- The rest of the staff assumed he was a delinquent.

Damian would never not bring expertise he had to the table when applicable. That includes highly specific information you only know from experience. Things like the exact type of pain a person feels when their hand is pierced by a metal rod and just how much a person can do on a broken ankle without passing out from the pain. It's definitely sad for the staff sometimes but he tells them that part of his life is over now.

- He'd still be dragged into her stuff occasionally

Hot take ik but bc he has all the skills he does I bet he would get dragged in for big events. But he would probably be more of a medic vigilante. New persona, not robin. Basically he'd tend to people who were wounded and fight people who would attack the wounded. I think I'd actually be kinda funny because the average thug would forget that Damian can and will fight too. Also I think he should get his katanas back. But he would be very particular of what cuts to make. Kinda a full circle moment. But again ONLY for EMERGENCIES. Damian will chew out his family if it is not absolutely critical he be there.

- Damian would treat the bats; they do not want him too.

This is still Damian. Cutting words and all. There is no way I see him not scolding them so much they would rather bleed out than get stitches from him. Pretty self explanatory.

-Damian would be a pediatrician but he would continue his education into other specialties

I love the idea of him working with kids. Damian probably isn't the best with communication but I can see his compassion coming through. Everyone can see it so, his words matter less. But he also wants to help his pets so he picks up some veterinarian classes. Then he realizes the supers haven't been to a doctor in like ever so he decides to see what research he can do to help them. That sort of thing.

Yeah Dr. Damian is the closest thing to a happy ending I can see for Damian so I really want it for him. It's not perfect but it removes him at least partially from the crazy life of violence he had no choice in. Do I think it's going to happen, no. For the exact reason it would be so good for him. Batman comics need to keep going and Dr. Damian would probably be the end of the story for him.

[kenmjiro]

ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ Scars and bad memories | Carl Grimes

Carl grimes (TWD) x Fem reader

TWS: angst, kissing, mention of child abuse

Carl was locked in his room throwing darts, he did this frequently since they let him out of the infirmary after losing his eye.

He was distant, he didn't talk to anyone except his father and Michonne occasionally, he didn't leave his room and that had me worried, I have come to see him every day, but he doesn't speak to me and barely looks at me

We had been together for 6 months before this happened, but I just don't know what will become of us anymore. It hurts me to see him like this, but I will continue fighting, because I love him and I will do everything possible to prove it.

With my legs trembling with nervousness I decided to go in, I wiped the sweat that was accumulating on my palms on my pants, I gathered my courage and pushed the door.

When I saw Carl with his back to me, he was throwing darts from the side where he had been shot, and there were no darts on the target, they had all hit the door and he seemed more and more frustrated and absent.

“What are you doing here again?” His voice sounded so cold and hard that for a moment I thought I had hit an ice barrier, and as soon as I could answer, a cruel lump of anguish had formed in my throat.

“I-I came to see little Judd.”

He didn't even look at me and continued throwing darts at him.

“She's in her room, so don't bother me.

That hurt me, but I'm not a weak girl and my duty is to help Carl, there's no time to get depressed.

“Talking to me like that won’t give you back your eye.” I knew that my comment would piss him off and I waited expecting the worst from him, that he would run me out of his room or yell at me, whatever he did to hurt me I didn't care, I needed to remove all that indifference that was consuming his feelings.

“You think I care? Go chase squirrels, you silly little girl.”

“No thanks, I already had lunch.” My sarcastic response seemed to bother him more and he began to throw the darts with more fury than before, but half of them hit the door and the rest fell to the ground.

“Do you remember when we met and I had a huge bow with me?”

“No." He cut me off abruptly, trying to silence me.

“You said it was impossible for a girl as short and skinny as me to have enough strength to shoot it, you made fun of me for days until she saw me shoot it.”

The memory seemed to have softened his bad mood; he stared vacantly at a spot on the wall and smiled imperceptibly.

“Yes, I still don't understand how you did it... You were tiny.” He gave a small, fleeting chuckle. "You still are."

Carl had spoken almost in a whisper, but since we were alone, that was enough for me. In the end he gave up throwing the darts and looked at the ground.

“I just needed my arms, correct posture...and an eye. “Carl turned around to look at me, he seemed angry, but at the same time I could see that I was getting to him.

“What are you getting at, y/n?”

“You don't need everything to shoot a bow, or a gun, or to throw darts, you just...you just have to have the way.

“Yeah? and when you lose an eye… what is the Y/n way?” Carl began to approach me in a threatening manner. " which ?!?"

“I can teach you.”

I raised my hand to caress his face, but he moved away from it as if my touch burned him.

“Oh yeah? Try it, see what you can do as a hunter.”

“First stand up straight, put one foot on the shooting line and the other behind.” With my hands I gently corrected his posture and pushed his leg so that it was aligned. “stand on your side and fix your target with your dominant eye.”

“You will say with the only eye I have left.”

His voice was bitter and sarcastic, but he was relenting.

“That's all you need, sheriff.”

I carefully took his throwing arm and told him to take it back to throw the dart, I left his side and he looked at me skeptical, but he threw, and it took him half a second to realize that he had hit right. the target. He hid his surprise and finally spoke to me without his tone of indifference and bitterness.

“Not bad hunter, now I understand how being so little you had better aim than dad.”

“You see, everything has its side... You just have to find it.”

He looked down so that his hair hid how heartbroken and sad he was, but he knew him better than I knew myself, he knew how he felt.

“And how do I find the side to this?”

She pointed to the side of his face where there was only a thick bandage.

I approached him calmly and hugged him, he didn't return the gesture, but his entire body was trembling.

“Why are you still looking for me?” His voice was barely a whisper full of pain. “I'm horrible, I can't force you to stay with me like this, please don't feel sorry for me and just leave.”

My heart hurt so much hearing his voice, so fragile, so vulnerable.

“I don't feel sorry, I love you. Please believe in me, we will get through this together, let me help you. ”

"You do not have to do it. “I’ll be fine alone… You don’t deserve to spend your life with a monster, full of scars and bad memories.”

My heart broke at his words, I separated from him and forced him to sit down on the bed in the room, it's time for me to show him my own scars, I calmly took off the blouse I was wearing and then the small tank top, leaving me only with a sports bra.

“Do you see this scar?” I said pointing to my stomach “When my uncle got drunk he was very violent, he tried to hit my mother, but she locked herself in her room and left me alone with him. "She was scared, and trying to escape I fell on a glass table... her blood must have scared him, because she left me lying there and walked away."

“and-I didn't-I had no idea…”

“and you see these marks here?” I took off the leather wrist guards I always wore. “A year before I found them I ran into a group of unpleasant people... Our leader made them angry and as punishment they handcuffed me and other kids to a fence and attracted the attention of some walkers so that our parents could see it, I I tore the skin on my wrists to free myself, I didn't even care about the pain, I just had to pull. And do you see this ugly mark?” I brushed the hair off my shoulder and showed him a large asterisk-shaped scar. “I had a small accident with Daryl when we went out to look for Beth, a guy tried to shoot me at point-blank range, luckily Daryl was able to deflect the shot and it didn't hit me.” in the heart as was his plan.”

“...Why didn't you ever show me all this?”

“Because I'm horrible... How could I expect you to love someone who carried only scars and horrible memories?” Carl looked at me bewildered and looked away.

“It’s not the same Y/n.”

“Of course... we are both full of scars and these remind us that we were stronger than what tried to kill us, we are survivors and this is our life... and I want to share my scars and my bad memories with you and I want you to you do the same. Carl, I love you and I want to experience all the good that is left in the world with you.” Without realizing it, I had walked until I was in front of Carl and I knelt down so I could look him in the face, my eyes were full of tears and my voice was shaking, “and don't think that you can decide for me, I want to be by your side... “Just… Unless you don’t love me anymore…”

He didn't let me finish and silenced my crying with a kiss. He knelt down next to me and kissed me passionately. His arms wrapped around me with strength and desperation. My cheeks were wet, but he didn't care. With his fingers he delicately caressed each one of my scars and I did the same.

“Of course I love you, forgive me for acting like an idiot, I…”

This time it was my turn to silence his lips, my entire body vibrated as the temperature rose, in desperation I lightly pulled his hair, wishing he would never leave me. When our lungs were begging for air we did not separate slightly, his lips were red and swollen from what had happened before, we both gasped to catch our breath.

“You know, it's very unfair that even with a scar like that you still manage to look so perfect.” Carl laughed lightly and leaned down to kiss my shoulder.

“Says the girl who, even with all her scars, looks like an angel.”

I blushed at his comment, it was always the same, he managed to take my breath away just with a phrase like that.

“Shut up and kiss me sheriff.”

“With pleasure, hunter. ”

The kisses continued just like the memories and the scars.

Even though we had both lost a part of ourselves and even though destiny had marked us, it no longer mattered to us, because being together we were finally complete.