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misspickman · 2 years

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5 for the ficlet prompts thing? 👁️👁️

5. sickly / sweet <3 this feels a bit like cheating but i wanted to write this for you (ao3 link)

Summer is the worst season to be hopping across rooftops in a tight and sweaty suit, no contenders. And this being Gotham, the world's favorite horrid weather magnet, the humid summer storms are frequent and unpredictable. It's easier—smarter, and safer—to assume there will be one than not.

Yet for all the years of his life that he's spent here, Tim hasn't learned that lesson. Not that there's much to do when the sky breaks open mid patrol other than swear and complain while Barbara laughs at him, but it pisses him off how he still manages to get surprised each time.

It's July and the summer is in full swing, and Tim feels like a heavy, wet rag left to dry out on the sun, except there's no sun and he's climbing up a slippery wall with the heavy cape dragging behind him like a weight. He reaches for the railing of his balcony and pushes himself up and over it, and falls unceremoniously on the wet surface. He gives himself a moment or two of pitifully staring at the bottom of a clay pot (used to hold a lemon tree, a liven-this-place-up gift from Bart, but it hasn't agreed with the Gotham weather, either) before scrambling up. It's a humiliating picture he paints, but thankfully it's close to midnight and the street isn't lit and no one seems to be around and Tim doesn't remember leaving the lights inside the living room on.

He panics for a second before he recognizes her. Rather, he goes through the mental list of people who'd know how to dodge or work through his alarms without a hitch, and then sees her face illuminated by the laptop screen and thinks, Jesus fu—

“What the hell?” he yells, loud enough for it to be heard through the glass. She doesn't even twitch. Tim swears again and starts taking off his drenched suit. One of his boots ends up thrown next to the balcony door and he's dragging his leg out of the sweaty leggings and it's a pain in the ass and she's just sprawled across his couch like she owns the place—and technically, he guesses, she does.

“What the hell?” he asks, again, as he limps in. Might be a rude way to greet a person he hasn't seen in a year, but it's the nicest thing he could think of beside You're the last person I wanted to see here tonight. Should I order Chinese?

Though it seems she's taken care of that already; there's a bag of takeout on the coffee table and there's… a cheap looking store-bought cocktail right next to it. She pays no attention to him, apparently busy with Tim's work laptop that she must've gone downstairs in the cave for, bypassing all alarms—that at least is evidence enough that it really is her.

She shrugs. It's nonchalant with the ease of the movement, but he can see the barest hints of tension in her shoulders, in the permanent crease between her brows. When she speaks, her voice is deeper than he remembers it. He can't tell why that catches his attention. “Thought I'd stop by. A no-occasion visit?”

Right. Right. Dammit.

Tim puts one foot atop his other and drags his leg out of the second boot, wincing as he shimmies his bad ankle through it, and she picks that moment to look at him for the first time since he walked through the balcony door. One quick up-and-down that leaves him feeling naked and open like a cracked egg.

Something must show on his face because she adds, quickly, “We figured out a way to pull this smoothly since the last time. Don't stress about it.”

That's extremely not what he is stressed about. Mostly. It's good to know, still, and he can read between the lines and recognizes this as a thinly veiled promise that she'll be getting out of his hair by tomorrow morning. He would prefer it right now, actually, so he can shower and bury himself in a pile of pillows and blankets and sleep through the whole night like a baby as was his plan. It could have been wonderful. It could have been majestic. He's been daydreaming about passing out throughout the entirety of tonight's patrol—Bruce even let him off thirty minutes early, something Tim would usually scoff at, but tonight he took it for the gift that it was.

“You smell like a wet rat,” she says, like Tim needs more reasons to not want her here. “Look like one, too.”

Tim flips her off. She laughs, which is a whole and solid reaction if nothing else. The sound fills the room and the dumb, childish part of him preens with pride at the knowledge that he got that.

She turns back to her—Tim's laptop, and takes a sip of her drink. “You really know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

“You're not welcome.”

She might be, on some other, sunnier day. Not tonight though, because Tim knows exactly what her presence tonight means and what she's trying to pull. And it won't work. You can't magic everything that's been said and done by doing one single thing right. Tim would know; this is precisely the sort of thing he'd try to pull too.

He does desperately need a shower. A guy got in a good kick to his jaw, dragged his brass knuckles hard against his skin, and the blood from it has been slowly drying and sticking to the edges of the cowl, and he's two seconds away from tearing the suit in pieces to get it off himself from how overheated it's getting beneath it.

And he really, really doesn't want to fucking deal with this.

He kicks himself into motion; routine movements, one leg, the other, cowl off—hurts, stupid—drops the whole thing on the bathroom floor to be dealt with later, walks around the flat half naked for a minute or two to breathe and not steal glances at the person on his sofa in his stolen clothes that actually fit her, which bothers Tim in that way an irrational annoyance in the back of your head does.

She pays him no mind, one hand on the touchpad and the other drumming fingers against a plastic bottle in her hand. There's fruit drawn on it. It doesn't look familiar, not something Tim would have seen around Gotham grocery stores.

“I'm gonna shower. Don't touch my stuff,” he says, mostly out of habit. It's what he'd say while pointing a finger at Damian or Cass at times when they crash at his place, and would get an unimpressed look or a vaguely mocking yeah, yeah in return. A scoff from the living room doesn't reassure him any more—it's actually worse. He'd give everything for a Damian in his kitchen right now instead.

It's a longer shower than he usually takes. The steam fogs up the bathroom, and he gets a blurry view of his face as he wipes the mirror with his hand; a bit too sunken, angular, and yet exactly the same as before. He doesn't feel a day older and he feels a hundred years old and he supposes he should be glad he's lost any soft edges, as it makes him look more like an adult—finally growing into yourself, is what he's heard people say—but mostly he just feels like it's betraying him.

There's a spattering of dried blood at his temple that he missed, somehow, and he scrubs at it slowly, not in a hurry to deal with not having his apartment to himself even more than usual. There's something especially terrifying about knowing he has nothing to hide and still feeling cracked open by the middle with all his messy insides on the display for her to inspect and prod at. She's the last person who has the right to judge him—she's also the person who can do it the best.

Tim doesn't like admitting when certain circumstances or people get to him, but he can't lie to himself; her presence rattles him thoroughly like he's nothing but a bag of bones. He just folds.

She must have showered here too, before he arrived, because his towel is damp when he reaches for it. He stomps down the spike of anger that rises at that thought and pulls out a fresh, dry towel. It's not like she did it to annoy him. She totally did it to annoy him. He can't tell exactly how self-absorbed that makes him.

It's still pouring outside when he emerges from the bathroom, rain kicking against the windows loudly She pulls her feet to herself as Tim sits down on the other side of the sofa, hair still wet and dripping down his shirt. The sense of déjà vu is so strong it's ridiculous. He doesn't point it out because he knows they're both thinking it.

Like she read his mind, she says, “We gotta stop meeting like this,” between two sips of what Tim can now see is a smoothie. The click-clacks of the keyboard don't stop or slow, her eyes don't move an inch from the screen that illuminates her face in a way that makes her presence seem… bigger, genuinely imposing. But it makes her look more tired, too. It accents the dark bags underneath her eyes and the slight creases by the edge of them that Tim doesn't have yet. There's a tiny pale scar across her upper lip that wasn't there the last time they bumped into each other.

Which, Tim is pretty sure they gotta stop meeting at all, full stop. They're definitely breaking like a minimum of ten protocols by simply being in the same room together. And usually Tim cares fuck all about protocols but this—this scares him, still. There's a thin line between a presence soothing and nauseating, and twenty-nine year old Tim Drake is standing directly on it.

He always has this nagging feeling that she's laughing at him, even at times when she's clearly not. She's half-lying next to him with his laptop on her lap and not even paying attention to him—has barely moved since he came in, and has even given him the bare minimum of dignity and not gone through more of his stuff, which is miles better from how their first meeting had gone.

He doesn't say anything, exhausted and still reeling a bit that he has this to deal with on top of a bad night, though she doesn't seem to expect him to. Deal or reply. A good thing about this is, he can at least trust that she has a pretty solid rundown of what's going on in his head. That had been a difficult truth to come to terms with.

She offers him the bottle of her blueberry and banana smoothie. It feels like a sort of placating gesture he's only getting because she can feel his discomfort no matter how hard he tries to keep his face blank; he gives himself away just by being and well, Tim has always sort of wanted to be anyone else.

The drink is a gross purple-ish color when he squints inside. He's never seen this brand before, so he figures she must have been holding it when whatever threw her here from the future struck. The label on the bottle insists that it's fresh fruit but the taste of artificial sugar leaves Tim sure that it hasn't been fresh for a day of its sad sugary life.

If ten years from now he turns into a person who willingly drinks teeth-rotting sweet smoothies, maybe he's fine here as he is, actually. He downs the rest of the drink.

There's a brief moment where Tim thinks that maybe he's managed to get under her skin, but the hint of annoyance that crossed her eyes is gone as quickly as it appeared. This, among many others, is one of the reasons Tim can't stand her: she's near impossible to shake up and it's almost as infuriating as the knowledge that he'll never grow past 5'6.

The aftertaste is pretty bad, makes his mouth feel like it got an instant coating of sugar all over, but it's certified future-beverage and he can appreciate the novelty. The bits of fruit are scarce and tiny enough to swallow and ignore which he does appreciate. Another thing he's not growing out of anytime soon, it seems.

“God, I forgot how shitty laptops were at this stage,” she's muttering as she works and it hits him then why her voice struck him as weird at first: it's closer to his own than he remembers. He wants to ask about it—knows that it's invasive as hell but what stops him in the end aren't his good graces but the knowledge that she wouldn't tell him anything about the future, even such inconsequential detail that concerns them and only them.

(For what's not quite the first time, but a rare occasion certainly, he finds himself wanting to know this person. Wondering who she is on a daily basis and if she still prefers scrambled eggs to omelette. Their hair is pretty much the same length but she wears it better—carries herself better, even dressed in his own clothes in a place out of her time, there is a base firmness to her every move that Tim feels he lacks. When he'd borrowed her staff to parry a blow mid fight, it weighed the same.)

He taps the top of the laptop and asks, “Which one should I get?” and watches her almost answer before she catches herself and kicks him in the thigh instead.

A loud alarm blares from underneath a pillow where she tucked her phone away. She swipes it away and gives him a look. Tim, determined to pretend there's nothing worth paying attention to, stares at his own phone and ignores her as she fills them two cups of the cocktail she brought. A text from Dick, two from both Cassie's, Bruce—he puts his phone down just in time to be handed a drink.

He wraps his palm around the cool, almost too full glass, debating just throwing it all back and going to sleep when he catches her looking at him expectantly, holding her own glass to him. Tim stares at her for a moment before clinking his glass against her and taking a sip, too thrown off to remember his initial plan. He grimaces; she grins, eyes crinkling with what Tim can't deny is joy. “Cheers.”

It's worse than the smoothie, somehow it tastes sticky and he can't sort out the ingredients except something citrusy, but he drinks it out of some sense of dignity or whatever. The realization of why she's here has sunk in and he's… feeling sort of detached. He's been pointedly not thinking about it. Now, it's impossible. There's cheap alcohol in his hand and she's pulled out a bowl sized cake from behind one of the takeout bags and put it between them, two forks stabbed in the top of it.

“How's it feel?” she prods. Tim rolls his eyes. It's a stupid question that she knows the answer to. “Being twenty?”

“How's it feel being thirty?”

She stuffs a big piece of cake in her mouth. “Pretty alright, honestly.”

God, Tim hopes he gets there. He bites his cheek at the thought alone, feeling uniquely ridiculed and ashamed, even though he knows that's not the point of this visit. It's just—it's hard not to feel inadequate next to her. Even though he's seen her get beat and yelled at and watched her yell herself hoarse in a voice that sounded a bit too close to someone else, but through it all she carries herself with an air of a person who's got it. Has cracked it.

Tim—present time, newly twenty years-old, a tangled up mess of too sharp corners—hasn't cracked shit and he doesn't know shit. If anything, he feels like he knows less with each passing day.

The cake at least is pretty good, if a bit unbaked in the middle. It's more of a bigger brownie in a bowl than it is a cake, which makes sense, as he's never been much of a birthday cake person. “What's with all the sweet stuff?”

“I know you like it,” she says, and when Tim doesn't reply, adds, “You'll learn to appreciate it.” Shrugs. “Or not, I don't give a damn.”

Except she clearly does, at least enough to come all the way here.

“You jumped through time and space,” he sighs, stabbing at the crumbling remains in the bowl, “To give me a cake.”

“A reminder.”

He scoffs. “Of what?”

She only looks at him, but Tim can tell what she's thinking. You are here, you are alive, breath after breath, and you will be so for many years to come.

She says, “I couldn't remember shit from my twentieth birthday. Wondered why.” She tilts her head. The hair tucked behind her ear curls as she does so, a bit frizzy from how it's been left to dry on its own. “I think I got it now.”

There's a smugness in her voice that doesn't come through the expression on her face. Quieter, she adds, “And… I guess I wanted you to remember it.” Tim gets that; it felt like an opportunity to mend something. Who wouldn't jump at the chance of making amends with the past? “You'll appreciate it one day.”

“You know, each time I think you've said something nice to me, the condescension bleeds through and kind of ruins the effect.”

“You're too easily condescended to.” She knows him too well.

Tim falls asleep with the sickly sweet taste of the shitty cocktail in his mouth, and by the time the sun comes out he has his apartment to himself again, and there's a message left in his laptop's notes app that he won't read until curiosity eats him away.

#today i offer you words that cater to me and britta only. tomorrow who knows #i know the prompt was like for a micro-fic but i wanted to write this it was fun #ty britta i hope u enjoy #ask #my writing

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sincerelybubbles · 28 days

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Here's a dialogue prompt for Emily please! Try this out pls. Love you Kam sm sm. "So why are you here?" "To make a fool of myself." ok ty lysm

even though i watched u type this, the wording makes me giggle every time i look at it.

emily prentiss x tech analyst!reader <3

warnings: fem!reader, cannon typical violence, very brief allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens!), angst and fluff! mutual pining.

word count: 5.4k

Emily is the loveliest thing you've ever seen and you can't imagine how she could ever possibly like you back. She enjoys the game, though, and teasing you is her favorite hobby.

It’s a sunny day. Warmth trickles down with the scattered light through the leaves. Patterns trace your arms, throwing your skin into a collage of different shapes and shades. Leaning back on your elbows, you watch people mill about the park. You look back down at your arm after a few more minutes, this time focused on the small watch resting there. With a sigh, you stand up and dust off your pants before picking up the small blanket you laid out and tucking it into your bag.

You walk back to work, enjoying the sounds of the people around you. You lingered too long at the park during your break and are hoping that nobody notices your slightly late return. Maybe the team will be in a meeting, gruesome pictures you never quite learned to stomach plastered on the board, entirely oblivious to your tardiness.

Unlikely, but a welcome thought soothing your anxiety as you push the door open and scan your badge at the security desk.

“Welcome back,” the security guard says, smiling at you over his paperback. He’s an old greying man and you vaguely recognize him. You think he’s new and send him a warm smile in return.

“Thanks,” you glance at his name badge, “Martin!”

You walk past him and step into the elevator. “Wait!” A voice calls and you reach forward to hit the hold button instinctively before you register the voice as Emily’s.

She jogs into the elevator with you, smiling gratefully. “Thanks, I’m already running a little behind.” She lifts a container and shakes it a little. The label is from the Italian bistro across the street, about a ten-minute walk away and always nearly triple that in wait time.

“Brave of you to go there during your lunch,” you joke, returning her smile and pressing the button for your floor.

You hope she can’t see how your hands shake as you reach forward.

“I know, I just love their Pasta Brado. Have you tried it?”

“Can’t say I have. I’m boring, I usually go for the parm.”

“You’re not boring,” she says so earnestly that you can’t help but blush. You cough as an excuse to raise your hand to your face and hopefully hide it some. “You do have to try it, though. Here,” she offers you the plastic box.

“Oh, I couldn’t. And I already ate.” You ignore the way your chest hurts a little at how enthusiastic she is. The worst part? She doesn’t even know how endearing her simple kindness, her casual enthusiasm, is to you.

“Tomorrow, then. We can go together.” The elevator doors open as she says it and she steps out with an affirmative nod to solidify it. “Don’t try to bail out on me either, I know where to find you.”

“Yeah, I'm okay,” you say, feeling lame as you step out behind her. “I would love to.” She’s too far to hear you, though, already heading to Spencer’s desk and jumping right into his conversation with Morgan.

Someone says your last name and you turn on your heel to see Hotch and cringe slightly. “I was trying to find you.” It’s a kinder way of him reminding you that you’re nearly ten minutes late back from your lunch.

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s fine. Do you have the reports finished from last week's trip to Huston?”

“Yes, sir, they’re at my desk. One moment.”

You and Emily don’t go to the bistro the next day because she and the team are sent to a small town in Kansas that night.

“I’ll owe you lunch,” she says, hand on the back of your desk chair and brushing your shoulder as the team rushes to the jet.

“Don’t worry about it!” You reassure her.

“I’m taking you to lunch,” she calls over her shoulder, pretend-glaring, “you will try that Brado!”

And then she’s gone, leaving you giddy and breathless.

You know she’s just being friendly – she treats Spencer, Morgan, and JJ all the same as you – but her efforts to spend one-on-one time with you outside of work still have you feeling like a schoolgirl passed a note from her crush in class.

You try to remind your heart to stop singing because Emily probably isn’t even gay and definitely isn’t interested. Instead, Garcia scares the shit out of you when she interrupts your inner monologue.

“Lunch with Emily? Things are getting serious in your work marriage.” You hadn’t seen her walk into the room and jump at her voice, hand jumping to your mouth to suppress a yelp. “Sorry! Sorry!”

“It’s okay, didn’t see you.”

“Your loss, I look fantastic today.”

“As always,” you smile up at her, nose wrinkling and genuine fondness filling your senses.

“Careful, wouldn’t want a workplace affair,” she jokes, leaning against your desk and picking up the stress ball you keep handy.

“Stop,” you moan in good nature. “Nobody else calls us work wives.”

“That’s just because they don’t have my brilliance and excellent observational skills.”

“Nor do they have the same privy to my more personal thoughts,” you say, glancing up at her before returning to your paperwork. With the team leaving so quickly to tend to a missing child's case, you’re not getting home in time to cook dinner but are hoping to leave early enough to grab food instead of resorting to your freezer stash.

“I would hope not. You know I can’t be replaced, baby.”

“Does Morgan know you talk to all your work besties like this?”

“I most certainly do not. You’re a regular bestie, not a work bestie.” A wink and then her expression sobers. “I do have an actual reason for visiting your humble cubical, though.”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to need extra hands for this case. It’s time-sensitive, as usual, and seems like it will be particularly tricky.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say, dropping your pen and standing to follow her.

Your position at the bureau is kind of a catch-all. Most of your time is spent logging data, building reports, and doing general research for the team. Occasionally, though, you jump in to help Garcia with real-time research. Nothing as high-stakes as her direct assignments, more background work. Calling offices to talk to managers, combing through more meticulous data, generic census material to rule out obvious dead ends.

It’s stressful work that technically isn’t what you’re paid for but you never complain. Your team saves lives, consistently putting themselves in the line of danger. If you have to spend a few hours a month helping Garcia call a suspect's manager at McDonald's to see if he still works there, it’s literally the least you can do.

“Yes, so, it looks like our unsub…”

You drown out Garcia’s brief about information you already have sitting in front of you and begin vetting possible suspects from the large pool her system created.

It’s going to be a long night. You think about future Brado to cheer you up.

“Reid, Prentiss take the back,” Hotch’s voice fills your ears. You imagine the pair nodding and splitting off from the group.

This is your least favorite part of helping the team with active investigations – listening in on the calls. It’s rare that you and Garcia join the line when they’re approaching the unsub but, with you helping her, it isn’t a risk to distract Garcia and a much quicker method of getting any new information the team needs. It’s a new system you’ve only tried thrice, unsure how having microphones on 24/7 will work, and it grants you and the team more fluid communication.

Still, adrenaline floods your veins as you listen to their coms, the sounds of Garcia typing a constant behind their voices, imagining every way this could go wrong.

You suspect the girl is still alive, the uncle doesn’t seem to have any reason to kill her just yet, but your fear for her grows with every minute.

“Clear!”

Your eyes fall to the receipts flooding your screen. Ammo. A new rifle and pistol. The team knows but the evidence of this unsubs ability to hurt any of your friends, your family, isn’t helping your nerves.

“I think he’s going to the roof!” Morgan’s voice, clear in the comms.

You click out of the documents. Two swift motions on the screen. The firm press of the button.

“Morgan, you’re on foot. Prentiss, follow him. Everyone else in vans, go!”

“Garcia, map out possible escape routes from the roof,” you instruct.

She nods, screens shifting immediately. She puts on her own headset with one hand and clicks on the call and starts to bark information to Hotch.

“Got her!” Reid’s voice sounds and you deflate a little. He mutes as he begins to console the small girl.

You know you can take off your headset now, leave the call, and go to your paperwork. There isn’t much more you can do to help – you’re sure that’s what you’re supposed to do – but you stay on anyway, listening.

“Right on Elmore!” Morgan calls. You find the street on Garcia’s screen, eyes tracing the path you think they’re taking.

“We’ll try to cut him off,” Rossi says and you can hear tires in the background of the call. The click of a steering wheel cutting to the side too quickly. Someone’s labored breathing – probably Morgan’s as he dead sprints.

“Stop! Put your hands up!” Emily shouts. The firmness in her voice makes you sit up straighter in your chair.

You hear something that sounds vaguely like, “bitch,” before a loud pop drowns anything else out.

“Emily!” Morgan’s voice, more pops.

Gunfire. That’s gunfire, your brain recognizes.

Your blood has gone cold.

“We need a medic!” Morgan shouts. Hotch’s line blinks red, going dead as he calls the ambulance. “Emily, Emily.”

Rustling. Cars. Sirens. Morgan’s line goes dead after you hear a car door slam shut. Then Reid’s and Rossi’s. Emily’s is the last to stay green, blinking.

You and Garcia stare at each other as you listen to Emily be loaded into an ambulance. Listen to Morgan tell the team, voice far away and barely tangible, that the unsub only managed to fire out one shot before he downed him.

Neither of you can hear where she was shot or how badly injured she is before Emily’s line goes red as well.

“Emily?” You call softly, rapping your knuckles softly on the frame of the cracked hospital door.

Your name, faint, answers you and you take that as permission to nudge the door open. The room looked dark from the hallway but Emily has the small lamp embedded on the wall switched on, throwing her face into harsh shadow.

“Hey, you,” you say, walking in, arms full. “I brought things.”

��You didn’t have to do that,” she says, trying to sit herself up further and wincing as the motion pulls on her stitches in her abdomen.

“Wait, let me help you,” you say, setting your things down and reaching out a hand.

You wait for her nod before touching her, letting her grasp your arm and looping your other arm around the back of her waist to take most of her weight yourself.

“Thanks,” she mumbles. You can tell she hates feeling useless, hates needing help for something as simple as sitting up, so you drop the subject with a nod and kind smile.

You turn around to the small rolling tray where you put your things down, pulling two black containers out from a plastic bag. You feel silly and very awkward as you turn around to show them to her.

“I know it’s probably not quite what you meant but,” you set the containers down on her bed and pop one open.

“The Pasta Brado! Oh man, I was going to treat you.” She’s pouting through a smile, attempting to put on an upset facade and failing miserably.

It’s so cute that you struggle with what to say next.

“Thank you, really. You can pull up that chair, if you’re hungry now.”

You grab the chair she’s motioned to and drag it to sit next to her. “I’m hungry if you are. It might be a little cold, though, it’s kind of a far walk.”

“You walked here?” Emily asks, tone appalled and face comically shocked.

“Yeah, my car broke down last week. I’ve been walking to work – it’s actually really nice out right now – and I couldn’t find a cab from the bistro.” You busy yourself with the food while you talk, opening the second container, setting it on her legs, and unwrapping the plastic cutlery for her.

“Jesus! You didn’t need to come and see me if you don’t have a car. You didn’t need to come at all, actually. I really appreciate it,” she amends, seeing how your bashful smile freezes on your face, reaching forward as if to touch your face and brushing your shoulder instead. “It’s really sweet of you but you didn’t need to walk all that way. Isn’t it like a twenty-minute walk from here?”

Over thirty, but you nod anyway, knowing it won’t help your case to correct her. “It’s not a big deal. You were shot in the stomach, of course I wanted to see you.”

“Ah, so you wouldn't want to see me otherwise,” she teases, nodding and pushing her pasta around with her fork. She doesn’t even try to conceal her grin.

“Ha ha, very funny,” you mumble. You take a bite of your food and your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

“I knew you would love it,” she beams, watching your expression as you taste the food. You you she meant to say it in a gloating way but you swear you can hear a sort of fondness behind the words. Something in you warms at her ability to know you so well.

You tell yourself you’re overreacting about both thoughts.

“You were right – Emily this is unfairly good.”

“Oh, I know,” she says, taking her own bite and letting out an exaggerated moan, complete with an eye roll. You giggle and she smiles at you. “Thank you, this is exactly what I needed.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, holding her eye contact.

She's been in the hospital for three days, transferred back to Virginia last night; her hair is unwashed and unbrushed, and she’s wearing no makeup and a hospital gown.

She’s still the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen.

Your car is fixed by the time Emily is released from the hospital two days later and you offer to take her home.

“Hi Sergio,” you greet the cat brushing against your legs as Emily disengages the alarm.

You set her things down by the door before turning to offer her your arm. Emily doesn’t pretend that she doesn’t need the help when it’s just you two, something you’re grateful for after watching her struggle with the team around, and lets you guide her to her bedroom.

You set about making her comfortable, turning down her sheets and propping the pillows up so she can sit.

“I’ve got it,” she laughs, playfully pushing away your hands.

You laugh along with her, raising your hands and backing away. “I’m going to go put the rest of your stuff away and get you a drink.”

“Perfect, I’ll take an old-fashioned. Don’t forget the cherry.”

You roll your eyes at her, scoffing and leaving her room.

You throw her clothes and go-bag in her laundry room before making her a glass of water and another glass of juice. Once you’re sure she’s settled in her bed with her book, you return to the kitchen to make her a few dinners, ignoring her protests.

Emily is back in the field much sooner than you would have liked.

“I was cleared by the doctors,” she tells you, coat slung over her arm as she digs through her bag for her badge.

You smile at Martin, sending him a mock exasperated look, before she finds her ID and shows it to him.

“It still seems too soon, Em,” you persist, reaching forward to push the elevator button and turning so you can lean back to watch her face.

“Em?” Emily asks, the hint of a smile pulling up the left corner of her mouth.

You sort of feel like you could die in that moment, just from the heat that simple gesture surges through you.

“It just sort of slipped out, sorry,” you say, thoroughly embarrassed.

The elevator dings and the doors open, throwing you off balance for a second. This doesn’t help your already flared nerves as you stumble back and drop your bag. You reach down to gather it and the files scattered across the floor.

You’re kneeling to stuff everything in your bag when Emily crosses your line of sight again, wide smile on her face – teeth fully on display and nose scrunched, you are in desperate need of help – holding out your notepad.

“I think the nickname’s sweet. I kind of like the idea of having a name only one person, only you, calls me.”

All of the air has left this godforsaken elevator, the heat must be on, you stare dumbly at her as she reaches forward to grab your bag and put the rest of your papers inside of it for you.

And then, realizing you look like an absolute idiot, you snap back into your body and cough slightly. The doors ding and open again, you grab your bag from her and stand slowly. Smiling at her, still crouched on the floor and looking, amused, up at you through her eyelashes, you say, “Okay. Thanks, then, Emmy.”

You walk away after that brief flash of confidence, telling yourself you’re just imagining how you swear her face flushed bright at your comment.

And if Morgan mentions a few minutes that Emily seems flusters, well, who can blame you for floating on that high for a few days?

Except she doesn’t let it go.

She corners you on your break in the kitchenette. Literally. She catches you when you’re examining the coffee pot that has been making concerning gurgles for the past few days and leans on the counter behind you, effectively blocking your exit.

Not that you really want to leave.

She’s wearing a red tank top and dark jeans, her hair is loose around her shoulders, eyes steadily trained on your face as you work.

“Hello,” you say, quiet in a way you’re not normally.

“Hi.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask after a few more moments of her silently staring at you while you pretend to know what you’re doing with a screwdriver.

“Enjoying the view.”

You drop your screwdriver and relish in the sound of her laugh.

You’d love to say that you had some suave answer to return her charm but you think you spent it all that morning with your boldness.

You’re not shy but confidence doesn’t run in your blood either. You’d say you’re pretty normal – average. You don’t find much wrong with that, you know you have other qualities that build you up into an interesting person. You love your friends and coworkers deeply, for one. And have an intense trust in them and their abilities.

That trust is always tested in your day-to-day at work but never more than now as you feel the car around you make turns at highway speeds. You think you’re on some sort of back road but it’s hard to tell from the trunk given the obvious lack of windows.

You’re calmer than you thought you would be if kidnapped.

Groaning after one particularly rough turn that has you jostling against the sides of the trunk, you allow your head to thump back and stare at the inside of the dark car. Light breaks through the cracks of the hinges of the trunk and you wonder if water trickles through when it rains.

You’ve been in here too long to consider if you’re focused on the wrong things. You’re scared shitless, of course, but the adrenaline faded about an hour into your drive and now you’re just bored.

Imagine that – bored as fuck in the trunk of a stranger's car, wrists burning from the rope and jaw sore from where it’s been forced open too long by the fabric tied around the back of your head.

You’re just allowing yourself to reimagine your morning with Emily when the car stops and the engine cuts.

You snap back into the present, energy flooding your system again as your brain flicks into overdrive. You might spend your days paper-pushing behind a desk, but you passed your physical. You’re smart, you’ve heard the stories of how these victims survive captivity.

When the trunk pops open, you squeeze your eyes shut to prevent pain from the sudden lack of light. You don’t want to be blinded and the action has the added benefit of pleasing your captor. He put a hood over your hood when he grabbed you, muttering in your ear in tense tones that you would do best to not even try to see him.

Say what you will, you usually do a pretty good job at following directions. This one is easy and happens to be number one on your list right now – keep him happy so he keeps you alive.

“Good girl,” a gruff voice says before a calloused hand gropes the back of your neck to yank you forward. Scratchy fabric envelops your head and your hot breath bounces back against you, trapped against the fabric of the hood.

You stand when his hands start to grab your waist, pulling yourself to your knees and allowing yourself to be lifted from the trunk.

You want to run but know now’s not the time.

“Look at how well-behaved you are!” His breath is wet against your neck. He stands too close, hands clawing under the hem of your shirt to cling to your skin.

He walks you forward like that, chest pressed against your back and breath slithering down the collar of your shirt to hang uncomfortably over your collarbones.

It’s becoming increasingly more obvious what this sicko wants from you and your stomach is twisting at the thought. You urge the team to hurry up, knowing your absence would have been missed ages ago. They have to be looking for you by now. And, with how sloppy this dude seems to be, he must have left a plethora of clues waiting to be found.

You have to repeat this to yourself as you hear a door lock click.

“Took you long enough. This is the girl? She’s kind of … well,” the second man kisses his teeth with a sharp sound. You’re pushed forward again. “Whatever floats your boat man.” The door shuts and locks behind you. The second man's voice fades as he talks, disinterested.

You wonder if it’s wrong to feel slightly insulted right now.

“This way, doll.”

You listen. It’s saving your life to be complicit in his directions, so you listen. Still, you’re shoved harshly to the floor once you get to where he wants you, knees striking what feels like cement. Before you can recover, your cheek stings and your head is whipping to the side from a sudden slap.

Then, there’s a kick to your ribs. You fall onto your side, too winded to even cry out, lips falling open in a silent scream. A boot in your belly. Your ribs again, your hip and back.

“Why?” You manage to sob out. “Why, why?”

You don’t get an answer.

You’re not overly religious but you thank whatever heavens or universe exists that he leaves you alone once he’s done kicking the shit out of you. Your ribs are bruised but the worst you expected hasn’t happened.

The boredom returns as you lay with throbbing ribs. At least one is broken and every breath hurts. You can’t imagine sitting up and, luckily, with your hands tied behind your back, it’s not really an option anyway.

It must be near an hour later when you’re fading out of consciousness – a purposeful choice on your part to save your energy – when you hear the front door burst down.

“FBI! Hands where I can see them!” Morgan. You nearly weep but think better when your stuttered gasp makes your side throb. “What the fuck?” You hear shouted in reply. “Robb, what the fuck man.”

There isn’t much of a resistance from the living room. The second man is shouting at what you can only assume is the first – your initial kidnapper – but there’s nothing else other than that.

“Clear!” You hear Hotch call. Spencer replies and then you hear the door nearest you open.

His voice calls out your name. You deflate against the floor. A second, you know he’s scanning the room with his gun before holstering it. “Clear! I need a medic!”

Hands, gentle, against your face, removing the hood. Swifter after that, removing your gag, and then hand binds.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, trying to smile up at him.

“Shh, you’re okay. We’ve got you.” He starts to support your weight behind your shoulders and the pain that brings is too intense to prevent your yelp.

“Oh my god, is she okay?” You hear Emily ask seconds before you see her. She looks concerned, hair now in a tight ponytail and FBI vest strapped over her chest. She whispers your name once and then a second time, reaching forward to gently brush your hair out of your eyes.

“Hey, pretty,” you say, words tumbling out of your mouth before you can catch them.

“Hi beautiful,” she answers, reply just as soft as your own. Earnest.

It makes your heart ache and, for the first time since being yanked off the road walking to grab lunch, you start to cry.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, beautiful, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She repeats this as you’re lifted by the paramedics and cry harder.

She repeats it when they stitch up where kicks burst the skin over your cheekbone open, repeats it as she trails a hand down your arm in gentle patterns while they examine your ribs and confirm that you’ve broken two, maybe three.

She tries with you in the ambulance.

You can’t help but think about being on the phone when you heard Emily be shot weeks earlier. You squeeze your eye shut as they insert the IV, beyond grateful that she’s there to hold your hand while they do it. The tear that falls down your cheek has nothing to do with the pain and everything to do with the thought that you couldn’t have been there for her in the same way.

An odd thought, you realize, but it’s the one you’re stuck with as you drift away when the pain medicine enters your system.

You’re sent home three days later. You insist on spending the night alone, afraid to admit you’re scared because, honestly, nothing much happened to you.

Oh, of course, everyone tries to convince you otherwise but you know they’ve all had it worse. You were gone from the bureau for about eight hours and spent most of it bored.

So you force yourself to spend the night alone. You don’t need help moving around or doing things for yourself so you convince yourself you don’t need help.

You’re cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. You wipe your hands with a dish towel and take your time walking to the door to look through the peephole. You don’t know who took you yet, you haven’t asked and nobody has said, but you can imagine seeing him through the door. Waiting for you, waiting to kill you this time.

Okay, yeah, maybe Spencer was right when he talked about PTSD and usual levels of anxiety, but you’re so tired of him being so right all of the time that you really want to prove him right.

There is no man standing on the other side of the door, though. Instead, you see Emily, holding a plate wrapped in tin foil and looking serene in your apartment hallway.

You open the door quickly, unlatching it and turning off your alarm with a few clicks. “Emily?”

“Ah, man, I was getting used to Emmy,” she jokes, stepping inside with a smile in your direction and kicking off her shoes.

You can’t think of an answer so you just smile at her, hoping she’ll take the lead. You’re tired and she must see it because she offers the plate in her hands to you once the door is closed and the alarm is reengaged.

“Rossi sent me with it with explicit instructions to not let you share it.”

You giggle and take the plate. “I’ll have to tell him thank you. It’s kind of out of your way to come all this way, though, isn’t it?”

“Not out of my way at all,” she says, words dripping with meaning as she holds your eyes. “I would have come even if Rossi didn’t have food for you.”

“So why are you here?”

“To make a fool of myself,” she says, casually, like that’s something people say every day, “probably. You’ve just gotten back from the hospital and I know you said you wanted to be alone, but,” she swallows and her words are becoming more rushed as she speaks, “I said the same thing and you still stayed.”

“Emily?” You ask, setting the plate down on your hallway table and clearing your throat. “Ah, Emmy?” You amend when she cuts you a look. Your attempt to diffuse the tension doesn’t work and she steps closer so you’re toe to toe.

“That doesn’t really answer your question, though. You’re sweet enough that you would let it go, but,” she shrugs, reaching forward to gently loop her fingers around your wrists. “Stop me if this is awful timing. Please,” she says, leaning forward and staring into your eyes.

You feel like you’re suffocating, but if this is death, you’ll greet it gladly in the irises of Emily Prentiss. You’re caught in the trap of the moment, heart hardly breathing, all aches and sores forgotten because Emily is leaning closer, breath fanning across your face. You feel intoxicated, ensnared.

Everything that has ever been exists here, now, in this moment. Every breath used to blow out birthday candles and blow away eyelashes – breaths with purpose, with wishes, with intent – exists between the two of you as she leans closer and closer. Closer, still, and how can so much distance exist between you two when you’ve been standing so closely?

“Just, stop me, if you want,” she whispers against your lips, eyes falling shut.

Time yawns again, freezing. Your eyes open, hers closed, beats of seconds pausing. Hesitating for you to hold this moment in your hands. You’re grateful to appreciate it because she really is so lovely. Her bangs are pushed back from her face with a headband – imagine that! Emily owns headbands! – and you can see every detail of her face. Her elegant nose, her slim eyebrows, her narrow, prominent, lips.

And then your heart finally catches up, beats loudly, cracks whatever fragile plane of glass holding the moment so perfectly still, and her lips are meeting yours.

You gasp into her mouth, hands breaking out of her hold to grab her face. You’re afraid that she’s going to pull away before this kiss can be fully real. Before you can actually taste her – lemon cake and rain and warmth. Before you can memorize the feel of her lips pressed against your own before you can drag her closer and slip your hands into her hair.

But she doesn’t pull away. She meets your enthusiasm with a sigh and then enthusiasm tenfold. You can feel relief in the kiss, feel how she relaxes into you. She takes a step forward and you take one back half the amount to account for it.

A tilt of your head and it’s better, impossibly. She’s firm, sturdy, beautiful. Confident. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

And then she reaches forward to hold you to her, hands brushing your ribs to wrap around your back and you can’t hold in the gasp of pain that causes you to stiffen. You want to take it back, want to ignore the pain, want to keep her near, but she won’t allow it.

“Oh, I’m so so sorry. Are you okay? I’m sorry.” You smush the apologies against her lips, removing one hand from her hand to guide her arms around your shoulders where they won’t hurt. “Okay! Okay,” she giggles, leaning back with several short kisses that do nothing to satiate you. “I need to know you’re okay.”

She can obviously tell she hasn’t hurt you too bad by your reaction, but the sweet caution in her voice has you melting further.

“I’m perfect.”

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hoshigray · 1 year

Note

If u don’t wanna it’s fine but imagine

Y/N tryna take dom from toji but ain’t working 🛐

Are you kidding me!? This is a lovely idea to write out :O Kinda was flipping through different scenarios, but I felt this was what popped up the most: the reader takes Toji by surprise and tries to ride him, but he doesn't let that happen. Hope it's what you envisioned, and ty for the imagine! Cw: dom! Toji x fem!reader - Daddy kink - starts with doggy style, ends with missionary - attempted cowgirl position; the reader feels discomfort - reader tries to be dom but has no experience - pet names (angel, baby, good girl, mama, sweetie, sweetheart) - praise - cervix fucking - spanking (2x) - clitoral play (pinch 1x) - breeding if you squint haha. Wc: 832

"Mmmm! Jesus, Y/n. Can never get enough of this pussy, baby."

You reply in muffled mewls, mouth covered by the pillow under your chin.

Toji has you face down and ass up for him, towering over your bent physique as he drills his cock deep inside your soaping vulva. His hands are on your hips to properly guide your rear to his pelvis, and thrusts propel him further for his length to scrape your walls.

Gripping the sheets beneath, you try to call out to him. But choked sobs solely exit your lips when you feel a smack on your butt. The harsh impact has you clenching around him, which causes him to hiss and lean downwards. Toji quickly uses his hands to support himself from putting his entire weight on you, placing his palms beside your writhing figure.

"Ooooh shit, shit." Toji moans into your ear, his breath and husky voice tickling the nerves of your eardrums, "Can't do that to me, sweetie. Clenchin' 'round me all of a sudden."

"Ahhh! D-Daddy, please, I'm 'bout to cummm!" His baritone laugh has you shudder. "I'm cumming, gonna cum—"

"Go on, mama," Toji nips on your earlobe, and your adorable whines feed his ego. "Cum on Daddy like the good girl you are." His hips snap severely onto the surface of your ass, his tempo going absurdly fast with his girthy member brushing your cervix with every rut, and you shut your eyes as your climax builds up. It hits you hard when another slap to your rear comes down, the stinging sensation prompting your orgasm to finally come through.

Your cunt flutters on his cock beautifully, coating it full of your personal essence while your body experiences the aftershocks. Toji praises you on your release. "Did so good," he kisses your shoulder and the back of your neck while your high subsides. "Keep bein' good, and let me finish here."

He hears you chuckle silently; unbeknownst to him, you mentally prep yourself before he starts moving again.

At the count of three, Toji is pushed to the side onto his back, completely perplexed by the action. With a cheeky smile, you crawl onto him and kiss the scar on his lips. "How about you be good and let me help you finish up?"

His brows furrow, but he can't fight the excitement in the grin that creeps up. "Oh, that's what we're doin'?" Toji makes himself comfortable and rests his hands on your waist. "Give me a show, angel."

You flash a smile as you arrange yourself, your ruined pussy aligning with Toji's shaft, ready for a peak of his own. Toji enjoys your confidence, but his eyes peer down at your legs, observing them still trembling from a few moments ago.

Before he can point it out, the lips of your sex are already touching the head of his cock. He groans in pleasure, shamrock green eyes taking in the connection between you two. Yet he knows something's wrong when he hears a distressing sound leave your lips, peering up to your face to see you wince in pain as you push yourself onto him.

He frowns. "Yeah, no. Stop."

You freeze and share a look of confusion. "Huh, what? Am I doing it—Woah!!"

It takes Toji a few seconds to reverse the position with relative ease. Now you're the one with your back to the sheets with your head on the pillow facing the built man. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I'll be in control."

"Did I do something wrong?" You questioned. Then a whimper takes over you when Toji positions the tip of his dick to your cunt.

"No, baby," He coaxes you while pushing his length into you, your wet slit making it easier for him to enter again. "Just don't like seeing you in pain. Don't have to do things that'll hurt you, mama."

Your brows scrunch together. Although It's a light lecture, you know he's right. "I know...I just wanted to—Hmmm...wanted to make—Hnngh!" The tip is inside, your pussy readjusting to his girth as he slowly moves inward. "Wanted to make you feel good..."

The cockhead reaches your cervix, causing you two to moan in unison. "Hmmm, fuck." He plants kisses on your chest to your cheek while his hand rubs gentle circles on your clit. "Long as I got this pussy of yours around, I'll always go crazy, sweetie."

You turn away from him, the older man finding your display of modesty adorable. "Now," a sudden plunge of his hips and a pinch to your clitoris leads a sharp gasp out from your system, his cock hurriedly brushing your smooth walls with ease. "You're gonna lay here and look pretty while I fuck the shit out of ya, yeah?"

You reach out for him, to which he obliges. Arms are secured around his neck to bring him close to you. "Please, Daddy. Fill me up." Toji sneers in satisfaction and kisses you before continuing on.

"Atta girl."

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causenessus · 2 months

Note

HIII NESS CONGRATULATIONS ON 1K!! YOU DESERVE IT SO SO MUCH LOVELY!! 🤲🏻🤍

and if I mayy, can I pls have 💕 + 💙 with iwa if that's alright? I have this picture in my head where iwa doesn't really like touching other's hands with his cause they're pretty calloused, but I just know he's the type to kiss his lover's knuckles so he makes an exception and AHHHH soft iwa always gets me

but anyway CONGRATS AGAINNN!! ILYSM AND TY IF U DECIDE TO DO THIS<3

knuckles & callouses. | iwaizumi h.

iwaizumi x f! reader

written in 2nd person

prompts from 1k followers event: 💕 -> childhood friends &💙 -> "i like the way your hand fits in mine"

"yeah i'll do everything / just let you know / all the reasons why / i'm never gonna let you go <3" from never gonna let you go by stevie dinner

word count: 1k words

notes: fluff!! this was cute to write because i have a lot of callouses on my hands from how frequently i climb ladders (catwalk monkey things </3). iwa’s definitely one of those guys who would've fallen victim to that “my hands look like this so her’s can look like this” trend years ago <3 thank you so much for requesting frans!!! i hope you enjoy this and your idea was ADORABLE

ALSO if you like this...you should totally check out @eggyrocks... who has a kuroo smau CALLED calloused hands which i thought about the entire time i was writing this AND THEY ALSO HAVE MANY MANY BANGER IWA FICS

"the conversation between your fingers and someone else's skin... this is the most important discussion you can ever have."

hajime always has a hand on you. whether it’s an arm around your waist or shoulder keeping you close, or a hand on your thigh when you’re sitting down. he likes to always be in contact with you in some way, making sure you’re still there. but despite that, no matter what, he never lets you hold his hand. whenever you reached for it, he always subtly moved it out of the way just in time. he’d casually lift it from his side where you were moving to hold it and play it off by brushing a stray piece of your hair back, giving you an innocent smile as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing.

“haji,” you pout one day, fed up with his avoidant habit. “you can’t constantly remind me to put lotion on my hands to keep them from drying out and then not let me hold your hands because you think they’re rough.”

“what are you gonna do about it?” he smiles, amused by your complaint. as if just to make his point clear, he brings your hand to his lips, placing a light kiss on your knuckles. he’s always taking care of you, telling you he’s happy just loving on you and needs nothing else, but that’s not enough for you.

“this,” you retort, grabbing his hand between both of yours, kissing his own knuckles. he can act snarky towards you, you’ll just act the same way back.

out of habit, he tries to pull his hand out of your grip, but you won’t let him. “y/n–”

“no, haji,” you cut him off, looking him straight in the eyes, “i want to hold your hand. i want to love on you the same way you love on me, the way you have since we were kids. and we used to hold hands all the time back then, when your hands were still soft.”

he averts his eyes, and you see the way his jaw tightens at the mention of your shared childhood, “that’s why i don’t want you to touch them–”

“i’m not done yet,” you hush him, placing a finger to his lips, “i miss hold your hands, hajime. i don’t care if they’re rough or calloused or whatever you want to call them. as much as you and your manly little head like to believe that me touching your hands is the end of the world, it’s not. do you wanna know what i think about your calloused hands?”

he blinks for a second, as if he’s seriously considering if he wants to know. his teasing demeanor has completely given away to a nervous, embarrassed one as he mumbles out a small, “...what?”

“i think they’re beautiful just the way you are,” you say, giving him a smile as you turn his hand over in your own, running your thumbs along the hills of his knuckles before you kiss them again, the way he's kissed yours so many times. “i think they show how hard you’ve worked,” you say, holding up his right hand so that you can both see it. you point out the bump on the left side of his middle finger, “i like this callus. do you remember what you told me? you said you developed it when we wrote letters to each other while you were traveling for your internship. you were complaining so much, saying ‘i’ve never had to write this much in my life! blah blah blah, i have another callus…’ do you know what that meant to me? that you were writing so much to me that you developed a callus? i loved reading your long letters, i was so happy that you wrote so much—that you didn’t leave out any details even if it tired out your hand. as much as you may hate how it looks, i like it. it’s like i’m always with you now.”

you kiss his hand and he presses his lips into a thin line. he’s trying to hold himself back from agreeing with you, but two can play that game. there's a reason you both have stuck around each other since you were kids. “i like the way your fingers are uneven from volleyball. they show how dedicated you were to it, that even when you tore a tendon in one of them, you kept playing because you were so bent on winning. i like the way your hand fits in mine, and the way that i can feel each and every single one of your calluses whenever i hold them. i like the stories behind each one.”

“...you’re a sappy work of art, you know that?” he says after a short pause, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“oh whatever,” you roll your eyes, intertwining your hand with his. and he lets you. “i can see your cheeks are red. did i get through to you?”

“maybe,” he mumbles, looking away.

“does this mean i get to hold your hands more often?” you tease with a smile, squeezing his hand. he squeezes it back three times, giving you a silent ‘i love you.’

“i guess,” he shrugs, slightly pursing his lips, “but don’t complain if they get sweaty, or rougher in the winter.”

“i wouldn’t dream of it,” you laugh, lowering your intertwined hands so you can step closer, standing on the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “and now you can’t complain if i won’t let go of your hands. you’ve given me permission to hold them and i have lost time to make up for, mr. macho man with the calloused hands.”

he gives you an exasperated sigh, telling you that you've won. you give him a smug smile as he lifts up your hand to kiss the top of it, “as long as your pretty hands stay the way they are, that’s all that really matters. i’ll keep working hard. and if you truly feel that way about my hands, you can do whatever you want with them. i'm all yours.”

#iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi drabble #iwaizumi fluff #haiykuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader drabble #haikyuu x reader oneshot #haikyuu drabble #haikyuu oneshot #hq #hq x reader #fluff

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bones4thecats · 3 months

Note

Hi can u write 🐇 prompt 9 for sanemi shinazugawa ty

🐇Quote-Prompt 9 w/ KnY! Sanemi

Character: Sanemi Shinazugawa Requester: 🍃Anon A/N: I'll nickname you 🍃Anon since that's the emoji I use for Sanemi. Please use that every time if you request in the future, thanks! Also there is mentions of having an adoptive child (allowing the Reader to stay GN). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Sanemi Shinazugawa ══════════════════════╝

🍃 Whenever your husband was sent out on a mission for a prolonged time, he would send you many letters. And when the mission was finished, he would send his crow back to give you a letter with a small object that he found in a nearby town that he figured you'd like

🍃 As he was strained from his work, he took a deep breath as he saw your shared estate come into view. The sound of little snores from your young adoptive-son laying his head on a pillow making Sanemi chuckle and pick him up to put him to bed

"You shouldn't be staying up whenever I come home, Rai."

🍃 As he tucked the young boy in his futon, pulling a blanket onto him, he heard footsteps behind him, which caused him to look up with his sword at the ready just in case

🍃 Sanemi then noticed you were standing there with a small smile, which allowed him to lower his guard back down and mess with his son's hair slightly

🍃 The Wind Hashira then stood up and walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your midsection and kissing your forehead gently. You then looked up and him and motioned for him to follow you to bed

🍃 Thankfully, your husband had bathed right before he came home, so he wasn't drenched in sweat. So, as he laid down next to you, you weren't bombarded with his stench like you were the first few times you were sharing a home with him

🍃 You laid on your right side as Sanemi held you from behind, laying his chin on your shoulder and allowing his hand to mess with yours while his other was stuffed underneath your stomach and holding your waist

"It's good to be laying beside you again, my Love."

"I agree."

🍃 You could feel his slightly rough fingers messing with your softer ones before interlocking in the same way they did when he confessed to you back when you were younger

"Y'know Y/N, I like how your hand looks in mine." He admitted, a slight coat of blush laying on his cheeks.

"I agree." You mocked his voice as you spoke, making him chuckle sleepily as you nuzzled your head into his own as he slightly moved with his voice.

🍃 Sanemi raised your hand to his mouth and gave it a loving kiss before tilting his head once more to kiss your cheek and then your lips before allowing his eyes to close fully and begin to finally rest properly after the multiple days away

"I love you, my dear."

"I love you as well, Sanemi."

#Demon Slayer #Kimetsu no Yaiba #KnY #The Demon Slayer Corps #Hashira #Demon Slayer x Reader #Kimetsu no Yaiba x Reader #KnY x Reader #The Demon Slayer Corps x Reader #Hashira x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Sanemi Shinazugawa #Sanemi Shinazugawa x Reader

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da-birb-writes-sometimes · 1 year

Note

HIII can u do the prompt number 5 for floyd pls :D (romantic)

Also i saw that you eanted ppl to put 2 backup characters and prompts so my backup characters are lilia and leona and my backup prompts are the fairytale scene and the taste of salt :D (also romantic)

Take ur time and ty ! 😍

Tandem Bike; Floyd Leech

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established relationship

Content Warning; Swearing(?), semi-serious mortal peril /hj

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; I hope you know how to ride a bike, cuz Floyd is no help in the matter! Hope you enjoy!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Floyd,” you gulped, looking down the hill.

Floyd laughed behind you on the tandem bicycle, and you could feel the bike reverberate from it. “Ehhh, are ya scared?~”

You dug your heels into the ground, making sure that the both of you wouldn’t end up going down the hill without knowing where you were going. The last thing you needed was to hit a pothole or a big enough rock and end up getting hurt. “Not scared,” you huffed, “just thinking.”

Floyd rolled his eyes, “We’ll just be up here all day then! Come on, Shrimpy.” He nudged your feet, but you dug your feet in further, cementing the bike into place. Floyd sighed and slumped his head on your shoulder. “You were the one that wanted to ride this thingy, but now you’re gettin’ cold feet about it?”

You took in a deep breath. Yes, it was your idea to take the cute tandem bike you found in the shed out for a spin, but your cycling partner had never ridden a bike before, and you also didn’t want to crash. “Just give me a minute, okay.” You clenched your hands on and off the brakes.

Floyd just looked at you curiously, before a wild smile took over his face. And when you eased up on the brakes again, he pushed you both forward. “Minute’s up!~”

And down the hill you went. Being angry could wait for later, as your main concern was making sure you were both staying upright and avoiding the aforementioned potholes and rocks. Floyd was cackling behind you, helping you steer a bit, but mainly just enjoying the wind wiping up his hair and watering up his eyes. And eventually, you started slowing down, coming to a more manageable pace that didn’t leave your hands clenching for dear life on the handlebars. But once you came to a complete stop you exploded in laughter; a mix of relief that you hadn’t died, of pure joy, and the infectious cackle that was coming from behind you.

“See, Shrimpy! That was fun,” Floyd poked you in the back.

You got off the bike, legs a bit shaky from the adrenaline. “Yeah, it was a little bit fun.” Wait, I'm supposed to be mad at him! You could never stay mad at him for very long though.

Well, gravity is a thing, a thing that Floyd was not accounting for, and he wasn’t supporting the bike up, so he and the bike tumbled to the ground. And instead of sulking, he just laughed and got right back up.

“Wanna go again?~ This time I’ll steer!” He laughed, and hugged you, squeezing you gently.

You let out a long sigh, decompressing. “No, absolutely not,” you pushed against him slightly so you could put your hands on his shoulders.

Floyd pouted, “You’re no fun ya know.” There was no bite, he was just being pouty since he was planning on making you shriek as you both had no idea where you were going, but downhill, and downhill fast.

You hummed, kissing his cheek to bring him out of the dour mood. “And you’re no fun if you can’t go on little adventures with me. Can’t do that if we crash on that cursed thing,” you pointed your chin at the bike.

Floyd looked briefly at the bike before turning his attention back to you. “Okay, okay, okay, I got the memo, Shrimpy…” He placed a quick kiss and bite on your lips before pulling back with a wink, taking a look at his handy work.

You could feel the slight sting. His bite wasn’t sharp enough to draw blood, but it was enough to make them puffy. “Are you proud of your handiwork?”

“Mhm!~” Floyd pressed another kiss to your lips, but this time it was gentle, soothing the stinging sensation.

And you bit his lip back, deciding that you deserved some sweet vengeance.

Floyd pulled back, and the shocked look on his face turned into pure glee and he was doubled over laughing again. “Damn, Shrimpy! I should do that more often!~”

Wait, what?

~~~~~~~

Tags: @azulashengrottospiano, @eynnwwyjth, @hydra-sea, @identity-theft-101, @krenenbaker, @officialdaydreamer00, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech x gn reader #sha la la la my oh my! go on and ~kiss da eel~#we all know he would fucking bite reader's lips since he's a tall lil shit #also rip if you don't know how to ride a bike cuz neither does floyd; just pretend that you can for this [i can't ride a bike; we would die #red!#a first-time requester too! i can deliver more goods if you don't eat my damn cats. if you're nice and polite to me; you get treats #i don't really have much else to say; but i'm happy that i got to use the tandem bike prompt for floyd

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1ovewoo · 9 months

Note

Hihi I'd like to request prompt 8 and 11 for Mingi please ^⁠_⁠^. Thank you 💕

tysm for submitting these prompts! sorry for taking so long to post this but i hope u enjoy regardless!

cw/tags: making out, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, bed humping lol

send me a prompt! [closed]

the sound of you and mingi’s lips smacking fills the air as you and him make out on his bed, his large frame hovering over yours and making you feel almost trapped in the best way.

mingi’s hands glide down your body and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs and tossing them somewhere behind him.

he sits back on his heels and grips your thighs, “open your legs for me, baby. i wanna see you.”

a blush burns your cheeks as you allow mingi to guide your legs apart, sliding his body down to lay between them and planting wet kisses up the inside of your trembling thighs.

you run your fingers through his messy blonde and black hair as his lips finally reach where you need him most, his tongue sliding up your core and swirling around your clit expertly, causing you to cry out, tossing your head back.

mingi hums and brings a hand up to slip two fingers inside you, curling them up into your sweet spot as he slurps up the arousal pouring out around his fingers.

after a few minutes, he slips another finger into you as he sucks harshly at your clit and you let out a loud, breathy moan at the intense feeling.

“that noise…keep making it,” mingi groans into your pussy, his hips rutting into the bed beneath him as his hand picks up his pace of fucking into you.

your moans increase in volume as your boyfriend brings you closer to the edge, the bed slightly shaking from the force of his movements, both his fingers inside you and his hips against the mattress.

“coming.. fuck mingi, baby please,” you gasp as you hurtle towards your climax, waves of pleasure washing over you and your vision blacking out for a moment as your jaw hangs open while mingi continues to pound into you, fucking you through your high as he reaches his own, cries spilling from his lips and his eyebrows furrowing.

after, you both lay across the bed, chests heaving as you catch your breath, until mingi climbs up your body and plants a sweet kiss on your lips.

you sigh and relax into him, exchanging sweet nothings against each other’s lips until you jolt, feeling the tip of mingi’s cock sliding through your folds.

“ready for round two?”

ty for reading! if you enjoyed this and would like to support my works please consider reblogging or checking out my masterlist!

#anon #ask: smut prompts #ask game #mingi smut #song mingi smut #song mingi x reader #mingi x reader #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez hard hours #♡ — dal’s works

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suengmi · 2 years

Note

can you do where boyfriend! skz are teasing w reader but say a joke that hurts their feelings and they realize and immediately apologize and make it up to you (fluff)

hi anon!! ty for being my first ask, im excited to write! not sure if you wanted full stories/drabbles but i hope you like what i did! <3 also i'm a bit unwell and drained from work so pls be kind. took so long because i ended up writing a lot for some.... like a lot OOPS i trailed off a bit to make it more realistic but asjsdkkjasd anyways im sorry if it's not exactly what u wanted ;_; i did my best, plus i didn't want to make it all the same i guess? but yeah about .6k for each member!

warnings will be written below member names!! all under the cut~

warnings for all: not completely proof read but wanted to answer this prompt asap!! i'm half asleep it's 3am pls also all gender neutral!

┋bang chan ┋

context: grocery store is never fun, especially when your boyfriend doesn't know how hard it can be for you. new!relationship, domestic bliss grocery shopping for a night in

warnings: slight ableism??? before he knows??? idk, chan a bit spicy with his words so not complete fluff my b, some cussing, not the fluffiest pls im sorry idk what HAPPENED

word count: .6k

chan grunts at you, eyes rolling, "i told you it's the wrong one you dumb dumb. "

you look down at the japanese curry powder, trying to make sense of the words written before you. you haven't been with chan for long, but he's treated you better than anyone you've ever met. he's kind, giving and always knows how to make you feel better. he knows that you're happier when it rains, he knows that you get angry whenever you lose a game, he loves that you always defeat him at uno and enjoys how you make a week long parade about it. he already loves you but definitely doesn't know it yet.

there is one thing you're still trying to gauge about chan is how sometimes he can shoot first and ask questions later, and this is one of those moments.

chan frowns, pointing at the curry packet in your hand. "this is the spicy one."

"i'm sorry." you say in a low tone, still trying to read the packet but the font is harder to read, "they look the same."

chan snatches the packet from your hand, placing it back next to the seemingly same ones. "well maybe if you read it you properly for once. i had the runs for like 2 days last time. you know me and spicy no agree."

"i can't.... sometimes."

chan turns to you. "huh?"

you take in a deep breath and speak fast, "i have dyslexia."

"what?" he questions confused.

it's then when the penny drops after a moment of silence. realization a wave over him, all the times he told you to read properly, how many times he made tut noises at your replies not having complete context and how he would grunt when you didn't comprehend something.

"why didn't you tell me? there's nothing wrong with that...?" he prods, gaze gentle towards you.

you fumble with your hands, picking at the skin at the sides of your thumb, your mind trying to find what to say. "i dunno."

he sounds so apologetic when he eventually speaks, he wonders how he could have been stupid. it makes sense. all the times you've told him about your ex and how he called you stupid and dumb for not reading well, making fun of you and saying you just don't pay attention. "i made fun of you so much... wow i'm a dick-

"no it's okay" you interrupt him, a small smile on your lips not wanting him to be hurt.

chan purses his lips while taking your hands in his. he looks at your eyes, his own intense and apologetic. "no- it's not okay, i make fun of you so much for thinking you just didn't pay attention, shit, i'm sorry. i joke all the time about how your brain is always else where."

and with that chan knows that he definitely could have picked up the pieces earlier, that you said it to him, without words. "i'm just... fuck i'm sorry."

"i just you know with my ex they-"

chan pulls you in for a tight hug, as if hushing the words you were about to spill, your glasses pushed against your eyes but you don't mind. he smells like fresh baby powder, his own scent you love mixing in with the clothes he's wearing. you know chan's going to make up for it and that he'll do everything to make you feel better. because you love him too, you just don't know it yet either.

﹋﹋﹋

┋changbin ┋

context: changbin loves working out and you love watching him, even if you don't think he doesn't know. freshly known feelings, uni!au, living together in dorm (i know you said !boyfriend but this was too good not to write hehe)

warnings: CHANGBIN SHAMELESSLY FLIRTING ACK, implications of taking a relationship further (physically), voyeur reader lmao

word count: .5k

you turn your gaze over to your friend, housemate or whatever you two had going on was called. you'd never really thought of changbin as someone you'd like, his gentle an soft nature was a contrast to the man currently a few metres away from you. weights in hand and grunts slipping from his mouth. you lean your head back to get a better angle, the veins on his arm revealing themselves. you knew he liked you and you liked him, but neither of you would dare to open that pandoras box. well, not until tonight.

it's a moment later that changbin stops his routine, almost meeting your stare. you raise your brows, attention turning back to the laptop in front of you. what on earth was i doing? you think, pretending to type something into the computer.

"thirsty?" he asks you, pretending he didn't noticed your eyes on him every now and then for the last half hour.

you turn your attention to him "wha?"

he laughs into his chest, stretching out his arms, "you have drool on the side of your mouth."

"i do- i do not!" you say slamming the laptop down, folding your arms on your chest knowing you've been caught.

changbin laughs, sitting down on the couch next to you, "didn't know i owned a dog."

you had no idea he could be this cheeky, making fun of you for simply watching him. after all, you were perving in a sense.

"don't make fun of me! i know i was... watching."

a smile dances on his lips, knowing that you can be sensitive to these things. "i'm sorry." he almost sounds apologetic... almost. "but... it's just too good to catch you out." he says in a slow almost seemingly mocking way.

"stop it." you mumble, facing the other way. "you know i have issues with... bringing this stuff up."

changbin tugs on your ear to gain your attention, feeling bad for making you feel slightly uncomfortable. but hey, you were the one watching. he smiles and says, "i know i know, i'm just teasing. i'm really sorry."

"i know but... please don't, this is hard for me."

"okay okay," he whines, gently lacing his fingers in yours, testing the waters to see if you'd be okay with this affection. "i promise i won't make fun of you, but if you wanna watch feel free to, don't have to be shy about it."

a blush dances across your cheeks and ears, your tummy suddenly feeling a knot of embarrassment grow. "changbiiiin." you groan, planting your face into the couch cushion.

"okay maybe i lied, i'll definitely enjoy making fun of you."

﹋﹋﹋

┋hyunjin ┋

context: you hate feet. hyunjin thinks it's funny. established!relationship, living together

warnings: obvi mentions of feet?? mentions of vomit

word count: .6k

hyunjin knew you hated feet, just how they looked, how they acted and gripped on the damn floor whenever someone would walk bare foot. hyunjin loved walking around the house barefoot, and it sometimes made you feel woozy, just the image of your own feet touching the floor... imagine. you shivered at the thought, sitting down on the couch next to your boyfriend, his feet dangling off the edge of the couch.

you pat your legs, instructing him wordlessly to lay on your lap. he complies without a thought, scooching back and nestling his head into your soft legs. he let's out a gentle "mm" as he settles in. "soft" he coos, rubbing his head a few times before turning his attention back to his switch.

after another episode of your favourite show, hyunjin suddenly brings his feet up, inspecting one of them. "i think i have glass in this one."

"do you need to do that here?" you say in a tone, eyes avoiding the grippers in sight.

"nah can you just check this one?" he says with difficulty, throwing his foot back towards your face. if you weren't so grossed out you'd probably be impressed by his flexibility.

"hyunjin please--" you swat away his foot with your phone, pushing yourself back into the couch.

"nah see in the big toe right here."

"hyunjin! you know i hate feet stop!"

he struggles, folding his body further to get his left foot near you, "babe just look here near the nail."

and that's when you feel a lump in your throat, nearly retching at the sight. the rice dish you had earlier suddenly feeling not so settled.

"oh shit." hyunjin says in a shock turning his attention to you, hearing your strangled noise. "are you okay?"

"no i'm not okay, go away." you say behind your hand.

shit, he knows he did wrong. his seemingly funny joke was definitely taken too far. he feels bad, real bad. he knew you didn't like feet but not this much. it'd never really come into question the time you'd been together, but god he had no idea.

"jeez i'm sorry." he's unsure where to place his hands and fumbles, words not forming correctly.

you sit in silence for a moment before regaining your thoughts. "don't. fucking. do. that."

hyunjin's eyes are pleading, the guilt in his face almost makes you not want to get him back but then realise you can use this to your advantage. you look over at the massage oils on the table and back at him. "i have an idea."

and you know he'll do whatever it takes. he still had glass in his foot, but that wasn't important right now.

------

┋felix ┋

context: felix thinks your tummy is cute, but you're just not used to it.

warnings: mentions of weight, body issues, tight clothing, BUT ITS FLUFF I PROMISEEEE, felix just a silly soft goose

word count: .6k

"come out please." felix begs, head leaning against the door.

you're sitting in the bathroom on the floor, dressed in nothing but your boxer underwear and a tight bed shirt, felix's bed shirt. you can feel the anxiety seeping into your chest, the weight of reality hitting you. you and your boyfriend had been together for only a month, but this was the first night you were staying at his house. it was on a whim, since most of the trains and buses had stopped running. and of course, you had nothing to wear. so there you were, tight shirt and all. you've never been uncomfortable with your body, if anything you love your body. but for some reason the way that felix talked about your stomach irked you. maybe he meant it as a joke? what did he mean? either way you were upset and needed space for a moment.

"please, i didn't mean it like that." felix sighs against the door, "it's soft and i love it."

you cast a sad expression towards the door. still unwavering from your position. why do you have anxiety now about this? all he did was grab your tummy and tell you it's soft like a kitten belly, or how it reminds him of those marshmallows that fold and how much he loves it because it's you, and he loves you.

you hear nothing but the cracking of a knee, felix bending down to put his fingers through the gap of the door underneath. he splays his fingers like a cat trying to get in the bathroom, darting against the tiles.

"lemme in!" he chimes, grunting to get his fingers further in. "i'll get in either way!" he jokes, using both of his hands under door to attack. it makes you laugh. it reminds me of those videos of cats wanting to get into the bathroom, or videos of racoons grabbing food.

"am i close?" he jokes, moving his hands back and forth.

you groan, stifling a laugh as you get up to open the door. "not even." you say, being met with pleading eyes. you look down at him, his hands still pretending to search where the door once was.

but he suddenly swoops you into a hug, hands around your waist, his head pressed into your soft chest, enjoying the smell of his shirt mixing in with your scent.

you relinquish any negative thoughts you have, melting into the hug. "i know you didn't mean it like that but, i think i'm just nervous... because it's you."

he pulls back, arms still wrapped round your waist, probably a bit too tight. "it wasn't a joke, i do love it." his eye are filled with nothing but love and adoration for you, your body an your mind.

"just... choose different words, please... i'm not a roll of marshmallows."

felix pulls back suddenly before gently pressing a swift kiss to your lips. "tastes sweet." he retorts about your statement, ignoring your words before kissing you again.

"i'm-seri-ous." you say between kisses, you feel his his hands digging into your hips.

instead of stopping, he grins, love apparent in his eyes. "my marshmallow."

you roll your eyes, a bit of anxiety still in your throat but knowing he adores marshmallows, you figure it's okay for now.

﹋﹋﹋

┋jisung ┋

context: a park date is cute until you get attacked my a crow, jisung think's it's funny. established!relatonship

warnings: jisung being a weenie, swearing

word count: .5k

the ground collides with your chest, the mud clouding your vision and your new shirt you brought for the date probably ruined. yep, i definitely tripped and yes it was embarrassing. you think, shame in your chest. of all the days, why your one year anniversary?

all you hear is the cackle behind you getting louder, sharp inhales of breath echoing in your ears. jisung has no shame, actively laughing at you stacking it to the ground.

"ahaha! the crow!!" he gurgles still, bending forwards over the picnic blanket, almost choking on his spit.

"jisung!" you yell, getting to your feet, seeing the mess on the front of you. that fucking crow, why did it choose me?

"jisung!" you yell louder, stomping over to the blanket, definitely covered in mud, dripping behind you as you walk.

"i'm sorry babe i'm-" he says between breathes.

you grunt before wiping the mud from your chest, still feeling it covering half of your face. "it's not funny."

"it fucking is."

jisung's laughs come to a halt as he realised you're upset upset, not just whining like you usually do. he notices how your eyes are suddenly pooling with wells. he stands to his feet and gently holds out his hands, "baby-"

"no!" you grumble, pulling your arms away, tears rolling down your cheek. "i just bought this top. now it's ruined." your dejected tone unsettles jisung, instantly feeling bad for making fun of you.

he says nothing, confused on how to react. but he waits patiently, allowing you to let out your feelings. he's always been good at this, always been patient with you.

after a breath you look back at him, red rings dancing around your eyes.

he smirks as he walks over to the mud and plainly sits down in it as if it what he was meant to do all along. you let out a small laugh, your hands wiping the rest of the mud from your face.

"what?" he asks plainly, as if nothing is weird. he grabs a handful of the mud before pressing it to his shirt, and then another handful to his hair, rubbing it in. "what's funny?"

you laugh behind your mud covered hand walking over to him. he smiles up at you like a puppy, knowing that he's succeeded in making you feel better.

and there he is, completely covered in mud, way more than you are and in that moment you fall just a little bit more in love with him. you lean down and press a gentle but muddy kiss onto his lips.

he stares up at you with nothing else to say, just sitting in the mud. you decide to join him, plopping down next to him, hand in hand as you both just sit in silence and completely covered in mud.

with jisung you didn't always needs words, sometimes the things he did for you were enough.

﹋﹋﹋

┋lee know ┋

context: you're getting ready to go out with friends, but your hair has other ideas, established!relationship, living together.

warnings/other: kisses??? idk, cuss words

word count: .5k

"it's not working!" you huff, re-straightening the side of your bangs for the 6th time. minho was confused at first, wondering why you're so upset over something trivial and small from his point of view. but when he looks up from his phone to see you struggling, his left hand still lazily patting one of his cats. he speaks without thinking,

"it's definitely like a pigs tail." he chuckles, looking back at his phone. in his mind, he assumes that he was just making a light hearted joke, thinking it was cute the way you got so upset over something he coined as small. plus, pig tails are very cute if you think about it.

it wasn't until you made a little sob that he noticed how you were actually feeling. you stare in the mirror, realizing it in fact does look like a pigs tail.

"baby-" he let's out a small but gentle sigh, "i was joking,"

"no you weren't. it... does look like a pig tail." you say between a small dejected sob, lips curled down and hands at your side as you avoid the mirror.

"let me help?" he says so gently as he approaches the bathroom door. instead of letting him help, you just melt into his chest immediately, your sobs muffled by his shirt. "i look like shit." you say defeated.

he lets out a light laugh, kissing the top of your head a few times, "you never look like shit, you know... even with your pig tail."

you step back, immediately hitting the tight muscles of his chest with both of your fists, "fuck off i swear." you talk through your teeth, still frustrated but feeling the urge to laugh in your throat.

"there you are," he says pleased at your spice, fighting with you to place a kiss on your temple, your hand starts pushing on his jaw, his lips puckered and ready. "c'mere." he says through your fingers, still pushing his head towards you, his hands gripping at your neck. "let me-- love you."

after a few minutes of roughhouse struggle, you push him back, feeing slightly better. it's in this moment you realize that you in fact do not enjoy asking anyone for help. but you speak, dejected tone apparent. "yeah... please help."

and nothing else is said while he fixes your hair, gently pressing small kisses on your cheeks as he does so. he knows he can sometimes say things without thinking, but he also knows that you sometimes enjoy just as much as he does. it's why you love him and why you two work so well together. after a few minutes he steps back to admire his masterpiece, a triumphant smile on his lips. "hmm," he ponders, "i liked the pig tail better."

"oi, don't start again you little shit" you say as you begin chasing after him, giggles dancing in with his own as he runs down the hall, nearly slipping on the rug. "get back here! you're in for it!"

﹋﹋﹋

┋seungmin┋

context: seungmin needs to shut his mouth sometimes, even if he doesn't know it. established!relationship, living together

warnings: seungmin being a spicy bitch, some playful physical aggression, kissing

word count: .5k

seungmin has you completely pinned under him on the couch as he covers you with kisses, not relinquishing his hold. "how many times do i have to say it?"

you grunt at the fact that he's weirdly strong in these situations, and as much as you struggle against his hold he's just completely powering over you. just the other day you were the one that had to help him open a jar. but thats besides the point. here seungmin is, currently trying to wiggle his way out of the fact that he took a joke too far. you're determined not to let him get away that easy.

you struggle once more against his hold, your legs flailing underneath him but he's just too damn strong.

he lets out a struggled breath, still above you. his hair falling gently from his face, "isn't sorry enough?"

you turn your head to the side, bottom lip pouting. "no."

"baby-"

you tut at him, tone almost darted, "don't baby me! you've lost your rights."

a gentle grin finds itself to dance over seungmin's face, he likes it when you fight back. he likes it when you put him in his place but still give him enough wiggle room to feel in charge.

"okay," he says with raised brows, "you win. i apologise."

you realise this is the perfect opportunity to get him back, for him making that stupid joke about something he knew you were insecure about.

"oh, whats this? kim seungmin, apologising, what was that?" you speak sarcastically. you're still under his hold, but you'll let it slide for now. "sorry i didn't quite catch that after you made me feel like shit for an entire hour. repeat?"

"i... apologise. i took it too far and i'm sorry."

you feel your chest rise, suddenly enjoying the power that seungmin has given to you. it takes a lot for him to admit he's wrong or that he's done wrong, this is just so damn satisfying.

"actually..." he trails off, letting your hands free a second before quickly grabbing the back of your neck. the kiss he planted on you was fast, and before you knew it you were laying back down on the couch, head dizzy from the sudden kiss, "you can't just make me forgive you with kisses." you speak in a semi-daze.

seungmin presses a kiss to your cheek and then a few more to your lips, the taste sweeter everytime. "i can, actually."

yeah, he's absolutely right. wait, what were we arguing about?

﹋﹋﹋

┋jeongin┋

context: jeongin fucked up, and he wants to make it better. fresh!relationship

warnings: none? kissing maybes, TOO MUCH CUTE

word count: .5k

it only took jeongin about half an hour to attempt to make it up to you.

sometimes being with jeongin was hard, as you both communicated in very different ways, it definitely was something you needed to work on. though, the one thing you loved about him is the absolute time and effort he put into making everything just perfect for you. when it came to you, everything he did for you was worth it.

after taking a walk to calm your thoughts, you realized you were still frazzled from the way jeongin teased you and how you ended up crying, resulting in him just left behind in a confused state. sometimes it took a while for the penny to drop with him, but once he got it, he really got it.

you step through the front door of his house, gently removing your sandals to be met with the sound of jeongin jumping up from the couch, hands out in a display. "ta-da!" he yells, it startles you.

you turn to meet eyes with your boyfriend, his face with a stupid grin slapped across it.

"what is-" and that's when you notice the many items splayed across the ground. there's a few towels on the lounge table, a tub of what seems to be hot soapy water, a box of facemasks and some nail polish next to it. the lighting is low and your favourite soundtrack is playing. you notice the scent in the room, jasmine tea, your favourite.

jeongin takes a deep breath in before showcasing his wares. "salon de jeongin"

"babe i-"

he steps forward, taking your hands in his before guiding you to sit down. "cmon" he coaxes gently, his beautiful dark eyes watching your every step. you say nothing as you follow him, unsure of what's happening.

as if he knows you're going to speak, he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. "i'm sorry."

you marvel at the sight in front of you once more. the fact that he built you a whole salon in his living room within thirty minutes is mind blowing. he knows your favourite scent, your favourite songs and all the products you use. you didn't even realize he had those.

you're still at a loss for words, unsure of where to put your hands or body. jeongin just points to the chair, silly grin still plastered on his face and eyes wide.

you sit down in the chair, eyes darting to jeongin. "does it cost extra for shellac on my nails?"

jeongin pouts in thought, "just a kiss."

"i can do that." you say back at him. and that's all it takes, you know you'll talk later about this and how you can communicate better but this... this was enough for now. more than enough.

"actually," jeongin ponders before leaning so damn close to your face, "i think it's about 4 kisses."

DAMN THAT WAS SO LONG I SPENT LIKE AGES DOING THIS MY BAD, i know it's not exactly what u said but oh well i wanted to make them all different!!!! ty for asking!!!!!! <3

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mymegumi · 10 months

Note

selene hihi darling, for your ask game can i request megumi and a “meet ugly” > < just some sort of frenemies thing — idk why i think megs would hate us at first glance 😭

no bc why do i feel like i’d see him in public n bully him bc i thot he was cute. i be doing that to ppl i like bc idk how to deal w my emotions 💀 ty for req pretty thing n i hope u enjoy hehe lowkey longer than i intended but is ok lul

send me a char + a prompt, n i’ll write ~100 words!

megumi thinks he could burn you to the ground with a single glance right now.

you’d just taken his coveted caramel mocha latte off of the starbucks counter—and drank from it, no less—but now, you’re trying to pawn off your stupid black coffee on him. he’s insulted to think that he even looks like the type of person to enjoy a coffee black, because he’s tired but he doesn’t hate himself.

“um, no, i want my drink.” he deadpans, watching you with a wary eye as you move his cup of coffee towards your lips again. “i paid, like, thirteen dollars for that. how much was yours?”

“okay, first of all, who the hell spends that much money on a coffee,” you scoff, handing over his drink with an indignant look, “and second of all, i paid a reasonable five dollars for mine.”

he rolls his eyes, but takes a sip from his drink and almost melts into the floor. he’d been needing his daily boost of caffeine and you had been the only thing standing in his way. “exactly. i’m not about to take your shitty black coffee and let you take my eight dollars of hard-earned cash.”

you eye his coffee, scanning up and down the cup with a quick look as you sip gingerly from your hot cup now. “well, hypothetically, if i asked you what you ordered, would you tell me?”

he rolls his eyes—just typical you’d steal his coffee, try to steal a couple bucks off of him inadvertently, and then try to ask what his coffee order was. it was like some sort of meet-cute gone wrong. “caramel mocha latte with almond milk.”

you scrunched your nose up. “almond milk? why not just drink whole milk, or oat milk.”

“i don’t know, it tastes best with almond milk.” he wants to stamp his foot on the ground in protest but he sighs, looking around at the people filtering around you, trying to sneak past the both of you as you bickered to get their own coffee orders. “if we’re gonna argue, can we at least sit down while we do it?”

you motion to a free table, putting your bags and coat over the back of one of the chairs and gesturing for him to take the other one. sitting down, he’s realized he’s argued himself into a sort of date—at least this is what gojo would consider a date, and megumi’s not sure if he’s the best model for scale.

“oh, by the way,” you tilt your head to look at him and furrow your brows, “what’s your name again? i saw heard it when the barista called our names, but i forgot it.”

“megumi,” he says idly, knowing that this won’t be the last time he sees you, and being weirdly glad that it won’t be, “what about you?”

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #jujutsu megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi imagine #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi x y/n #txt!writing #txt!ask game #ask!wishmemel #ෆ ; mutual love

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beewolfwrites · 2 years

Note

for part 2 of the Japanese speaking one, can u do one where reader and chishiya fall for each other and the reader wants to confess to him in Japanese but doesn’t know how and he helps her? ty :)

Language Barrier - Part 2

Since this is a second part for the original prompt, I've kept it also in the AWIAF fic world, but more towards the end.

Hope you enjoy!

(Chishiya x oc/reader)

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

‘You’ve improved.’

Chishiya emerged from the hallway and sat down in the armchair opposite mine. Even in candlelight, the furniture store was cosy and quiet, the perfect place for curling up and studying in a comfy reading chair. With the games suspended after the Ten of Hearts, life in the Borderlands had slowed. On one hand, we were waiting for something to happen at any moment, yet the more days that drifted by, the more we were lulled into a sense of security. Kuina had ventured out earlier to find supplies, leaving Chishiya and I alone in the store.

He had spent most of the evening upstairs, tinkering with a can of orange soda and wires, whilst I focused all my attention on reading out sentences and committing new words to memory. Ever since my first game - Rummy - where I had barely understood the rules being read out, I had been chipping away at the Japanese language, making a note of and practicing phrases I had heard Kuina and Chishiya use. Although I was still laughably bad at it, I was actually quite proud of how far I’d come.

‘ありがとう.’ Thank you, Chishiya.

‘Your pronunciation is clearer too,’ he commented. ‘You’ve stopped blending the words together. I can actually understand what you’re saying.’

I thought for a minute about how I wanted to respond, double checking a certain word in my pocket dictionary. ‘あの缶に何してるの?’ What are you doing with that soda can?

Earlier, I’d briefly seen him connecting it up to a string of wires, but he had worked quietly and avoided divulging any information. I hadn’t wanted to pester him at the time, but I was genuinely curious about his latest project.

‘爆弾を作っている,’ he replied simply. I’m creating a bomb.

‘Wait, really?’

That was definitely not what I thought he was going to say. At all. How did he expect me to react to this? Chishiya didn’t exactly look like a terrorist in the making, nor an angry schoolboy locked up in his bedroom surfing the internet. Seeing Chishiya’s raised brow and lack of response, I quickly realised I had slipped up.

‘本当か’ I corrected myself. ‘どうやって学びましたか’ Really? How did you learn to do that?

‘学んだ,’ he said, simply. ‘学びました is too formal. You’ve never spoken formally with me anyway.’

He explained his answer in quick, fluid Japanese, and although I understood some of the words he’d used, he was running through each sentence far too fast. The words only stood out individually like stars, and I couldn’t quite harpoon them together to form anything coherent. And given the mischief dancing in his expression, he knew exactly what he was doing.

‘I give up,’ I admitted. ‘You’re speaking too fast. And I don’t know half of those words.’

He didn’t admonish me, like I’d expected, but instead simply translated his answer. ‘I taught myself over time, the same way I made that taser. Once you have a grasp of circuits and wiring, you’re already halfway there.’

This would also explain how Chishiya knew how to screw with the wiring in Niragi’s bedside lamps. Either he payed a bizarre amount of attention at school, which I couldn’t see him doing, or he had too much spare time on his hands.

I frowned, flicking through my notes. ‘And you genuinely thought I’d be able to understand all that wire talk?’

‘You never know. It could come in useful in a game.’

I couldn’t argue with that. But in actuality, I did need his help with a certain phrase. There was something I wasn’t quite sure about - it was said differently depending on formality, but as I was still dipping my feet into Japanese culture, I wasn’t quite confident about the difference between each variant and when they should be used.

‘Hey, Chishiya? There’s something I’m not sure how to say.’ I flipped my notes around so that he could read them better, though he simply stared at them with apathy.

‘What is it?’

‘Well… I’m really grateful to Kuina, for being my friend throughout all this craziness,’ I explained carefully. ‘I wanted to tell her that I love her, because I really do. But I didn’t want to use the wrong “I love you”. I know there’s 好き, and there’s 大好き. But this dictionary translates it as 愛している. If Kuina’s my friend, which one do I use?’

Chishiya closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the armchair. ‘Kuina already knows you’re her friend. There’s no need to say it.’

‘But what if I want to?’

‘Then you’d just use 好き or 大好き at the most,’ he said. Half asleep like this, it was uncanny how much he resembled a cat, or even a fox. ‘But you’re not really asking for Kuina’s sake.’

My heart shuddered.

He knows?

I swallowed, nervous that I had been caught out so easily. ‘And if I’m not actually asking for Kuina, which one would I use instead?’

His mouth tilted upwards. That sly, sly man. ‘It depends on how you feel. 愛している is only used in movies.’

‘And you wouldn’t use 好き or 大好き?’

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘If you’re a schoolgirl.’

‘And people definitely don’t use 愛している in real life?’

‘Nobody really says these things,’ he replied curtly. ‘It’s too embarrassing for most Japanese people.’

Except I’m not Japanese.

I didn’t reply, muling over each of the three possibilities. One was too mushy and gushy to use in real life. The other two were apparently too simplistic. From what I knew of Japanese society so far, people didn’t usually say these things out loud. Love and affection was something to be expressed in small actions and gestures.

One eye cracked open. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘After all that, aren’t you going to say anything?’

Now it was my turn to smirk. ’Only when you’re not expecting it.’

Faintly entertained, he sat up straighter, pulling himself out of his catnap. His small break over, he retreated back upstairs and returned to tinkering with the can. The evening drifted on, and I did try to stay awake in case Kuina returned with goodies. But as the darkness crept in and the candles played magic tricks with shadows on the walls, I sank down into a different darkness altogether, dreaming of sand and chlorine, playing cards and bullets.

In my dream state, I hadn’t realised I was shivering until the softness of a blanket was wrapped around me. A pair of hands gently removed my notebook, pen and dictionary. Barely awake, I slid my eyes open a fraction, registering the silhouette walking away from where I was curled up in the armchair.

‘Chishiya,’ I murmured. ‘もう愛している.’

I love you too.

#alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #aib

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rosiehrs · 2 years

Text

convenient (for who?) | minji

summary ; she wants you, but it’s easier for her not to show it.

pairing ; kim minji x fem!reader

content ; highschool!au, mild jealousy, mutual pining, detective haerin ftw, friends to lovers

genre ; angst, fluff(?)

word count ; 4.4k

a/n ; i apologise for how messy this is TT also feel free to lmk if i have any mistakes AAA ty hope u enjoy

“..hey, are you listening to me?” hanni’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, smiling at you as if she knew you weren’t listening. “i.. uh, yeah! i am.” you sheepishly replied, rubbing your legs together in need of warmth. you were in a classroom with the doors and windows closed, yet the feeling of your burning ears never died down. much to your dismay, your hair and scarf did nothing to block the cold out. hanni looked at you with pity, knowing how bad you were with winter (despite it being your favourite season). “y/n, you have got to wear more layers, you know you’re weak in this weather!” hanni exclaimed, placing her hands over yours, in hopes of transferring some warmth to you. you closed your eyes, leaning into your friend. “i know, i know.” you were thankful for hanni, however you couldn’t help but imagine that someone else was in her place.

minji watched you tremble from her seat, watched as hanni moved her chair closer to yours to help keep you warm, watched as you adjusted yourself into hanni’s neck. minji felt an unpleasant feeling settle in her chest, a feeling she has been growing more familiar with since she’s come to realise how she felt for you. she felt jealous, but not of you. she was jealous of those close to you, and in the moment (and many others) - she was jealous of hanni. don’t get her wrong, it wasn’t like she wasn’t close to you - she was.. but only to an extent. you and her were friends, you also belonged to the same circle. you and her were close?.. but not enough for the both of you to be at the proximity as you and hanni in that moment. if minji was being genuine, you two barely had conversations alone anymore and when you did - it was.. awkward. god she hated it, but she never knew what to say to you. she was too afraid she’d say the wrong thing, too afraid she’d use the wrong tone. she never wanted to get to this point, but her feelings for you had grown much quicker than she expected and wanted. so the awkwardness between the both of you had only grown. she tensed up around you, giving you nods and tight-lipped smiles. it was convenient for her, she didn’t have to say much to you anymore because - she was too afraid to.

so as she drifted further away from you, the closer you wanted to get to her. you spoke more to her, trying to start more conversations. obviously the treatment she gave you disappointed you. your feelings for the girl had bloomed and started much before minji’s did.

but you observed her around other people and realised she was only this way around you. while minji was quite awkward around others, the awkwardness with you was.. different. it felt forced, like she was acting like this on purpose. the moment you realised it was different was when this junior approached her to talk about the tennis club, her body language, the volume of her voice, her facial expressions. she was more than happy to talk to this junior, yet when you speak to her she builds a wall. that’s when you knew (more like assumed) and came to realise that kim minji just didn’t like to and didn’t want to speak to you.

the moment the bell rang was when minji felt at ease. you and hanni had detached yourselves from each other and started packing up your things. reluctantly, minji stood up with her bag - making her way towards you. hanni looked up at her, shocked as she stood in front of your table. “here.” she said, extending her arm out to you. with clear confusion on your face, you looked down to see a heat pack in her hand. your ears perked up in surprise, replying with an “oh, thanks.” as you take it from her hands. your fingertips lightly grazed her palm, prompting her to flinch. “sorry, your uh- your hands are cold.” she explained while her eyes darted across the room. “oh, that’s alright. yours are really sof- warm! they’re really warm.”

hanni watched your interaction with disappointed eyes knowing how you felt about the other girl, but made sure not to intervene.

“yeah.. anyway you guys, uh, ready to go?” minji asked, her eyes glued onto you. “um, yep! we should hurry up before some kids steal our table.” hanni replied with a tight smile as you slotted your arm through hers. minji’s eye twitched at the sight (which went unnoticed), but she nodded and followed the both of you out of the classroom.

the chattering of your teeth were all you could hear regardless of the loud bickering amongst the hundreds of students in the canteen. you had a hot cup of hot chocolate in your hand, threatening to spill over due to your bare, shivering hands. “y/n unni, you know how cold you get at school! i’ve told you so many times already that you need to layer up!” dani said to the older girl, wrapping a scarf around your neck. you smiled gratefully at her, holding the scarf closer to you. minji grabbed onto the fabric on her neck, cursing herself in her head. why didn’t she think about giving you her scarf?

your weakness in the cold has caused your friends to scold you for never listening to them.

‘i told you to bring hand warmers yesterday!’

‘didn’t i tell you not to wear these stockings? they’re crazy thin!’

‘this jacket is whack, why are you wearing it?’

‘stop coming to school with wet hair, you’re going to get sick!’

all these comments, yet minji hasn’t said a word to you yet. she was looking at you the whole time - with a look of what seemed like concern, but obviously you couldn’t confirm it. her eyebrows were furrowed, but not the same way they do when she really enjoys the food she’s eating.

you looked up at her with a tight-lipped smile to which she didn’t return. instead, she looked away from you. to say you were disheartened was an understatement. the small action caused a hole in your chest to grow and your shoulders slumped against hanni. the movement caused her attention to be shifted onto you, immediately asking if you were alright. she took your hands in hers and started caressing them affectionately. “you alright? still cold?” you subtly nodded at her, accepting the comfort she was giving you.

by then, minji had looked back up at you and witnessed hanni holding you. she clenched her cold fist that was kept in her pocket, vaguely glaring at the girl next to you.

meanwhile, haerin was observing everything from the other side of the table. she noticed the glances you and minji were giving each other, she noticed how your eyes travelled to minji whenever someone scolded you about the cold and she noticed how minji’s ears would slightly jerk up when hanni showed you any sort of affection. haerin wanted to roll her eyes at the both of you. she could see right through minji’s facade. oddly enough, it seemed as if she was the only one who could. on your part, all your friends knew about your feelings for minji. they found out before you told them because apparently it was painstakingly obvious. to everyone except minji, of course. it wasn’t like she didn’t notice - she did. but she was so against the fact of you possibly liking her back, she ignored it. she ignored the signs and drifted away from you because it was, once again, convenient.

you brought your cup back to your lips and much to your dismay - you were out of hot chocolate. the sad feeling in your chest only grew as you stared longingly at your empty cup. minji of course saw it happen. unconsciously, she slid her tumbler across the table to you. the gesture caused you to tense up in your place as minji noticed what she did.

“it- i- you’re out of cocoa.. and mine is still warm, so you can,” she cleared her throat, “you can have it. you clearly need it more than i do.” she fixed her posture shortly after, doing everything she could to avoid your gaze. your eyes lit up and you held it in your hands. “thanks..” trying your best to hide the excitement in your voice.

“are you saliva conscious?” you asked, worried that you’d make her uncomfortable somehow. seeing her shake her head, you immediately started drinking. minji felt her cheeks warm up at the sight of you placing your lips where hers had been not so long ago. was it weird to want to be a tumbler? yup.

the warm liquid passed through your oesophagus and you instantly felt better. “thank you, minji.” you spoke, prompting the girl to look up at you. “yeah, it’s alright.”

haerin smiled at the two of you, trying to hide it behind her scarf. dani looked over at the younger girl with a confused look on her face. she scooted closer to her, whispering, “what are you smiling at?”

“can’t you see?”

“..what can’t i see?”

haerin grinned, nudging dani in the process. “it’s alright, dani. i reckon you’ll figure out sooner or later.” the curiosity of the other girl only began to build up. “huh??”

the school day had finally passed and you were still carrying minji’s tumbler around. you left your classroom with hanni and jungwon, looking down at the flask in your hand. you started to walk away from them until jungwon called out for you. “where are you going, kid?” the odd term of endearment the boy had for you caused you to crack a smile, “i’m gonna go pick minji up. i’ll meet you guys downstairs with everyone else, yeah?” the pair nodded, waving you off as you made your way to the said girl’s classroom. minji had geography without the rest of the friend group, so it would give you a chance to speak to her alone. you felt bad for it actually, you knew you would be ambushing the girl who clearly wanted nothing to do with you - but you wanted clarity. the girl you so painfully liked didn’t like being around you and you didn’t know why.

you waited outside of her classroom, leaning against the wall as students started exiting. minji walked out with her eyes on the floor, eagerly wanting to leave the building. you stepped in front of her, causing her steps to stop abruptly. when she realised it was you in front of her, her eyes enlarged at the sight of you. “i- y/n! w-what are you doing here?” she asked, her posture changing almost immediately. the reaction made your heart ache, she suddenly looked distressed - scared, even.

“i’m- i wanted to.. give this back to you.” you replied, holding the flask in front of her. she looked down at it with curious eyes, “oh, alright.” she paused, “but you could’ve given it back to me later.. we were going to meet downstairs anyway.” she spoke awkwardly, letting out a dry chuckle. “it.. i know, but-” you halted, holding the object back to your side. with a sigh, you straightened your back. here goes nothing.

“minji, did i do something wrong?” the girl was thrown off by the question and it was evident on her face. “w-what?” she croaked. “have i done anything to offend you? make you uncomfortable?” you egged on, clearly bothered and in need of an answer.

by this time - the hall had cleared out and it was just the two of you left there, standing across each other.

panicked, minji asked, “y/n, where is this coming from?..” minji felt her legs start to shake, not due to the cold - but due to the nervousness she was feeling. had you caught on? were you going to confront her? would you stop being friends with her because of this? what if you told the others?

“it’s just.. you’ve been distancing yourself from me. you speak to everyone else so freely and willingly, but with me it’s like.. it’s like you don’t want to. it seems like an obligation for you and i don’t know what i’ve done to cause this.” you stammered, gripping tightly onto the steel object in your hand. your head dropped and you felt tears build up in your eyes. “i’m really sorry, minji. i really am. i’d never intentionally hurt you or say anything to put you off. i care about you too much.”

‘i care about you too much.’ why would you say such a thing? minji thought.

she could feel her heart rate increase at your words, fidgeting with her sweater to calm herself down. “y/n-”

“i know you’re not that comfortable around me and i’m really sorry for whatever i’ve done to make you feel this way. but i.. i really like you, minji..”

there it was.

but minji felt her whole world stop. you, what?

“p-pardon?” is what she was able to muster. “i like you a lot, minji. so much that i notice when your eyebrows furrow when you really enjoy your food, and that you seriously like the word ‘bro’, and that you somehow still enjoy eating ice cream in winter,” you paused, taking a step back from her - your eyes now glued to the floor. “and how your face drops when i speak to you. how your shoulders tense. how your voice gets softer, and how all the emotion leaves your voice.” with each word you spoke, the more your voice softened, “how your eyes go blank and how your smile doesn't reach your eyes.”

minji stared at you with pure sadness on her face. she didn’t realise you’d be affected by the way she was acting towards you. “i’m-”

she paused immediately as you looked up at her with tears running down your cheeks. you had been crying and she didn’t even notice? “oh my god, y/n-” she began, trying to reach out to you.

“no, it’s okay. i’m really sorry. i’m not expecting anything from you, minji. i didn’t even plan to tell you this way- or at all for that matter. i know this probably made our situation worse.” you were babbling and minji’s words were stuck in her throat. she so badly wanted to say something to ease you, but she couldn’t. was she seriously still abiding by her ‘convenient’ tactics?

the silence and bewildered look on minji’s face was enough for you to crack. “fuck, i got to go. i’m really sorry, ji.” you shoved the tumbler into her hands before running off. she could’ve run after you, she could’ve yelled out for you - but she didn’t, she couldn’t. she was glued into her spot; describing her as dumbfounded would be more than an understatement.

you rushed passed your friends who all shot you with questions and looks of concern/confusion. you apologised before running off, being unable to face them in the state you were in.

while you had run off, minji was rethinking everything she had done. she was hurting you this whole time because she felt that it would be easier for her to act a certain way around you. why she didn’t think about how you would feel is beyond her. even if your feelings towards her were strictly platonic, you probably still would’ve been hurt by her actions. stupid, minji thought to herself, i’m stupid.

hurting you was the last thing she wanted to do. while she was unconsciously doing it because it was simpler for her - she realised how selfish she really was. of course she wanted to be close to you, but she was afraid. afraid you’d realise how she felt, afraid she’d drive you away with the things she said - so she decided to cut off the risk. and now she might have ruined her chances with you even though she now knows you feel the same.

as minji stood there alone, she realised you left without knowing she felt the same for you. the mere thought irked the girl, yet she still didn’t know what to do.

minji had left you multiple texts to which you ignored. you were too embarrassed to even think about the girl. all you could remember was the look of shock on her face, how you probably made her uncomfortable.

you were unable to sleep that night and unfortunately, it was evident the next day.

“y/n, you look horrible, what happened?” sunoo asked you, his voice laced with concern. “i couldn’t sleep last night,” you stated, immediately leaning into hanni for any sort of comfort. the girl wrapped an arm around you lovingly, knowing exactly why you were up all night. when you got home, hanni flooded your phone asking if you were alright and if she could do anything to help. you gave into your best friend and told her everything over the phone as you sobbed into your pillow. “don’t worry, she was able to get a few hours in.” she reassured, earning a few nods from your friends. you were all gathered by your table in the canteen - except for a certain girl.

“where’s minji unni?” danielle asked, realising you weren’t complete. “she said she wasn’t gonna meet up with us this morning. something about stuco work.” jungwon mumbled, scrolling through his phone. “eh? i wasn’t informed about any work?” yujin replied, going through her emails to see if she had missed anything.

meanwhile - haerin was sat down silently with her arms crossed. without your acknowledgement, she also knew what went down yesterday. she put two and two together when you ran down crying without minji after you had told the others you’d be going to pick her up. when minji had gotten down, she looked distressed and well - haerin heard you and hanni talk about it this morning.

she took her phone out to text minji which was quickly noticed by danielle. “you texting unni?”

“yeah, just wanna see if she’s alright.” haerin explained nonchalantly, prompting the australian to nod her head and get lost into the conversation she was in just a second before.

unni, wya? Seen

stuco room, why? is anyone looking for me? did y/n say anything? Delivered

no. i’m omw Seen

huh? Delivered

abruptly, haerin grabbed her stuff causing her friends to stop and watch her curiously. “where you going?”

“i forgot i had to meet up with mr hwang about my history project. i’ll catch up with you guys during lunch, yeah?” echoes of ‘okays’ and ‘see yous’ were heard as she sped off to find the older girl.

as she reached the room, she knocked before opening the door and as expected, minji was sitting by the table with papers set in front of her. the noise caused her to turn to the door, shocked that haerin actually made her way there.

“oh! you’re actually here?”

“i know what happened yesterday.”

minji’s smile dropped as she tensed up. “haerin-” the cat-like girl held her hand up, causing minji to stop. “don’t. you’re going to say ‘i don’t know what you’re on about’ or ‘it’s not what you think’ but no. you do know what i’m talking about and it’s exactly what i think. this whole act you’ve got going on is ruining the both of you. and for some reason, i’m the only one who can see that you’re madly in love with y/n unni and everyone already knows y/n unni is in love with you.”

“w-what?” she sputtered, shocked at the words of her younger friend. she knows? “how do you-”

“unni, i sit back and observe. it’s not like your glares to hanni unni are very subtle. everyone’s just blind to your feelings because you’re lowkey a bitch to y/n. pardon my language.” minji’s shoulders slumped down as she finally gave in. “okay, you’re right, rin. i’m just- it was easier for me to act like that, you know? that way i didn’t have to worry about whether she’d find out. i didn’t think she.. liked me back.”

haerin chuckled at her words, “it was quite obvious, unni. but you really hurt her, you do know that now right?” guilt took over minji’s face as she nodded, “yeah, i do. but i don’t really know what i’m supposed to do now..” haerin was flabbergasted, she didn’t realise minji was this.. dull? “are you kidding me, unni? obviously you apologise and tell her you feel the same! but emphasis on apologising, you need it as much as she does.”

silence took over the room for a while until minji spoke up again, “but what if she wants nothing to do with me now?” the younger girl stood up and placed her hand on minji’s shoulder. “then you’ll find out after you tell her that you’re sorry and that you have feelings for her. you only live once, unni. take the risk. you saw what happened when you didn’t.”

with a sigh, minji stood up and hugged her. “you’re such a smart kid, haerin. thank you.” the younger girl smiled into the hug as she squeezed her tighter, “i know, unni. now go get your girl. please.” they pulled away and minji replied with a determined nod. she grabbed her stuff as she ran out of the stuco room.

she made her way to the canteen where she saw you shivering by the vending machine. “y/n.” she spoke as she stood behind you. you turned around in shock to see minji. it was the first time you’ve seen her since yesterday and you could already feel the embarrassment seep through you. “i’m, uh- i gotta go-” as you tried slipping past her, she grabbed eagerly onto your arm. “please, just let me speak to you. i have a lot to say.”

“you didn’t yesterday.” you uttered, causing the girl in front of you to wince. “i know, but i’ve gathered my thoughts. please y/n.” you peeked behind minji to see hanni encouraging you. ‘talk to her.’ she mouthed.

you looked back to the girl in front of you, nodding.

she then led you to the field where it was colder, meaning less people would be gathered there. you stood in front of her, feeling your cheeks start to sting from the weather. “what is it, ji?”

the girl took a long, deep breath before opening her mouth. “i’m really sorry, y/n. not just for yesterday but for how i’ve been acting towards you these past few months. i know it was really out of nowhere and it must’ve caught you off guard - for that i’m truly sorry. i’m even more sorry for not thinking about how it could possibly hurt you. i was being selfish and i can't even begin to fathom how disappointed i am with myself.”

“that’s alright, minji, but..” you shook your head, trying to shake the thoughts out. “i still don’t know why you’ve been acting like this.”

here it goes, moment of truth. she thought.

“i’ve been acting this way around you because i was afraid.” she took a pause, staring down at your shoes. she could feel her heartbeat out of her chest and her hands wouldn’t stop shaking. “i was afraid.. that you’d find out how i.. um..”

“how i felt about you.”

the sentence that should’ve brought you clarity only confused you more. “how you feel about me?” you questioned, causing the girl to reply with a small ‘yes’. “how.. do you feel about me?” you asked.

the girl abruptly looked up from your shoes and into your eyes. “oh- i, um, i have feelings for you.” she fidgeted, “i like you, quite.. a lot. and i was scared that i’d drive you away if i said or did anything stupid around you.. so i shut myself off around you to prevent that from happening. i’m stupid, i know. i’m sorry.”

she searched your face and eyes for anything, signs of disappointment? disapproval? but you were frozen in your place. everything was processing, just.. word by word.

‘feelings’ .. ‘like you’ .. ‘drive’ .. ‘away’ .. ‘shut’ .. ‘stupid’ .. ‘sorry’

okay, fully processed. “w-wait what?!”

“i know, a-and you probably don’t want anything to do with me right now and i’m so sorry. i never should’ve let it get this far, i should’ve told you. or even just act normally around you because nothing can excuse how i’ve been treating you. i’m so seriously sorry, i understand if you no longer want to be friends with me because i’ve left you lying around for so long and i-”

then warmth. that’s what minji suddenly felt on her lips, and her cheeks.

she closed her eyes as she grabbed you by your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

the warmth had travelled throughout her whole body. and for a second, minji felt as if everything was right. the feeling of your lips on hers made her feel as if the stars were suddenly aligned. with months and months of pining, she could only imagine how your lips felt - and she could honestly say her imagination didn’t do you justice.

you could feel the passion and desperation leaking from her lips onto yours, she was soft - almost as if she was trying to take care of you at that moment. you had melted into her arms, melted into her - then slowly, you began to pull away in need of air.

she rested her head against yours as you both caught your breath. “..so i’m guessing this means you still like me?”

“you’re still an idiot, minji.”

while you had your moment, not that far away:

“i fucking called it!” jungwon exclaimed, jumping with happiness. “shut up, no you didn’t. hanni told you months ago and you said you didn’t believe it.” sunoo replied, rolling his eyes at the boy. “my beliefs have changed. i’m a new person.”

“aw, they’re so cute!” dani cheered, nudging hanni and haerin in the process. “good job, rinnie. this wouldn’t have happened without you.” hanni whispered, patting the younger girl on the head. she smiled in victory as she watched the two of you giggle like idiots. “mission complete.”

can you tell it's been over a year since i've written a proper fic😭

#kim minji x reader #newjeans x reader #new jeans x reader #kpop x reader

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