#a beautiful feedback loop

[greenishness]

Having a sister is crazy why are you me slightly shifted to the left...

[bloopitynoot]

If avoiding spoilers was an Olympic sport, I am pretty sure I deserve a gold metal at this point

[fridayplanet]

I'm a frightening individual only to white men and non-schizophrenics which is sadly a majority of the world .... Or so they want u to think ...

[lustlvii]

Ateez members when you squirt. Ft hyung line

Including: Hongjoong , Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang x fem!reader (all separate!)

Warnings: studio sex (hongjoong) dirty talk, squirting, name calling (slut, dumb little thing), mean! seonghwa, porn no plot, overstimulation, possessive! yeosang, unprotected sex, choking (yunho), size kink (yunho), Daddy kink (Yunho), dirty dirty dirty just dirty so prepare yourself, lmk if I missed anything

Authors note: I'm so happy the maknae line received lots of love 😚 here's the hyungs!!! I love yunho btw 😋

Hongjoong.

“Don’t move.” His voice cut sharp through the low hum of the studio monitors, barely audible over the looping instrumental still playing in the background.

You were supposed to be here for feedback on a demo. Just to sit pretty in his lap while he worked. But then he slipped his hand between your legs during playback—just to “check something.”

And now you were panting, lips bitten raw, clinging to the armrests of his black studio chair like they were the only things keeping you tethered to earth.

Hongjoong’s fingers were coated in your slick, his knuckles deep inside you while the pad of his thumb rubbed quick, unforgiving circles over your clit.

“Look at you,” he murmured into your neck, voice low and dangerous. “So fuckin’ wet in my chair. Acting like you didn’t wear that skirt just so I’d do this.”

“Joong—p-please—” you whimpered, voice cracking, not even sure what you were begging for. To stop? To keep going? You didn’t even know anymore.

“You feel that?” he whispered as he crooked his fingers just right, curling them up against that spongey spot inside you that made your legs kick. “You’re close, aren’t you? So fucking close.”

Your hips bucked. The coil in your belly was snapping tighter and tighter and—

“Oh my god—!”

In a split second, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your cry as a gush of wetness spilled out of you, soaking the front of his sweats, the leather of his chair, and dripping down your thighs.

You squirted.

All over him.

Hongjoong stilled. His fingers still nestled deep inside your pulsing heat, the other hand still clamped over your mouth. His breath was shallow. And then he laughed.

“Holy shit.”

You squirmed, blinking hard, barely able to see through the tears blurring your vision. “I-I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He pulled his soaked hand back slowly, glistening in the dim LED light, watching your cunt twitch around nothing now. “Fuck. That was beautiful.”

You flinched when he leaned down and licked the mess off his own fingers, groaning like he’d just tasted the best meal of his life.

“You made a mess, baby,” he mocked sweetly, palming the soaked fabric of your panties now stuck to your skin. “Didn’t think I could make you squirt, huh?”

You shook your head, cheeks burning.

Hongjoong gripped your chin, forced you to meet his gaze—intense and hungry, his pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re gonna do it again,” he said simply, like it was fact. Like you owed him that.

“W-what? I—I can’t—”

“You can.”

He dragged you off his lap, bent you over the mixing console, careful not to press any buttons—though at this point, you wouldn’t have noticed if the whole song deleted itself.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growled, freeing himself and shoving back into your soaked, trembling hole. “And this time, you’re gonna squirt on my cock like a good little slut.”

The music kept playing. The beat rolled on. But all you could hear was the slap of skin, the lewd squelch of your wetness, and Hongjoong’s filthy voice in your ear:

“That’s it, baby. Dumb little thing. Cumming again already? God—you really are mine.”

And you did. Again. And again. Until you couldn’t even cry anymore, only whimper and shake and thank him with slurred babbles.

The studio was ruined.

He didn’t care. He kissed the crown of your head and whispered with a devilish smirk:

“Let’s get that on the next track.”

Seonghwa.

Seonghwa was so pretty when he was gentle. The soft-spoken voice, the feather-light kisses, the way he tucked your hair behind your ear like you were glass.

But that wasn’t the version of him hovering over you now.

His hands were planted beside your head, and his hips were deep—so deep inside you, your belly ached. Sweat glistened down his neck, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead. And his dark eyes… they weren’t soft anymore.

“Thought you said you could handle it, princess.” He thrust in once, slow but devastatingly deep. “So why are you crying?”

“I-I’m not—ah! Hwa—!”

Your voice pitched up into a sob as the next thrust knocked the breath from your lungs. You could feel yourself getting wetter, feel your thighs trembling and twitching as he pulled back and slammed into you again.

“Liar.”

He dipped his head low, kissing the tears from your cheeks while his cock bullied your walls open all over again.

“You said you could take it.” A hand slid under your leg and pushed your knee up to your chest. “You begged for it, remember?”

You nodded weakly, fingers gripping the sheets, eyes rolling back.

His pace was cruel now. Calculated. Your slick coated his lower stomach, smearing against his skin with every thrust.

“God, this pussy’s filthy. You’re fucking dripping,” he hissed. “Look at you. You're making a mess on me.”

“H-Hwa—please, it’s too much—!”

“Too much?” he echoed, mocking, as his thumb found your clit and started circling fast, relentless strokes. “This too much? Or this?” He pressed harder.

That’s when it happened—your entire body seized up and then released.

Warm liquid gushed out from you, soaking his thighs, your own skin, the sheets. You squirted so violently it splashed his hips.

Seonghwa didn’t stop. Not even close.

He growled low in his throat and pulled out for a second just to watch it. Watched your cunt pulse and gush and spasm like you were ruined from the inside out.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, voice husky and hoarse. “You squirted for me.”

You could barely breathe. “I—didn’t mean—”

“Yes you did,” he cut in. “You wanted to. Your body begged for it. Don’t pretend you’re not a little slut for it now.”

You whimpered, biting your knuckles.

Seonghwa climbed back between your legs, cock still hard, dragging it up and down your soaked slit. He didn’t slide in yet—just rubbed his tip against your clit, teasing, tapping. Watching you squirm.

“Wanna do it again.”

“I—I can’t,” you breathed out, voice hoarse from moaning.

“You can. You will.” He finally pushed back inside—too slow, too deep—and your eyes immediately crossed.

“There’s my girl,” he purred, kissing your jaw, then nipping it. “Gonna fill you up this time, make you squirt while I cum in you. Don’t stop till you do.”

And he fucked you through it, again and again, until the only words you could say were half-spoken sobs and the sound of your own squirt hitting the ruined sheets.

Yunho.

“Holy shit.”

Yunho froze for a half-second, blinking down at where you lay trembling beneath him—your thighs shaking, your pussy gushing.

Clear liquid sprayed from between your legs, soaking his stomach, his cock, and the sheets beneath you both.

He stared, wide-eyed, lips parted. Then his expression twisted.

Into a grin.

“Did you just fucking squirt?”

You let out a choked sob, covering your face with your hands in pure embarrassment.

“D-Don’t—Yunho—”

“Oh no, no,” he laughed darkly, reaching up to yank your wrists away and pin them to the bed. “You don’t get to hide from me now, princess.”

His cock was still buried inside you, twitching, hot and hard and pressing deliciously against the spot that had just made you lose control.

“You squirted all over me, baby. That’s what this pretty little cunt does when it gets really full, huh?”

You couldn’t even talk. Just moaned, legs weak, cunt still fluttering from the orgasm that wrecked you.

“Was it too much?” he cooed mockingly, thrusting his hips once—slow, just to feel you twitch again. “Can’t handle it?”

You shook your head. “C-Can… but—”

“But what?” he leaned closer, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna do it again?”

Your moan gave you away.

He groaned, like he was the one about to fall apart.

“Fucking knew it,” he growled. “Knew this pussy would be obsessed with me. Can’t even stop leaking.”

With your legs still spread open and held wide, Yunho started to move again. More deliberate this time—less punishing, more controlled. Watching you the whole time like a man obsessed.

And when your thighs twitched again—when your moans pitched up, when your hips tried to wiggle away from the pressure—

He sped up.

“Don’t you fucking dare run from it,” he hissed. “Wanna see it again. Wanna feel you gush around my cock, baby.”

“I can’t—! S’too much—”

“You can. You’re gonna squirt for me again, just like the messy little thing you are.”

Your toes curled. Eyes rolled. The pressure hit you even harder than the first time—like a dam about to break.

And then—

“F-Fuck—Yunho—!”

It happened. Again.

Your second squirt hit his thighs, his cock, your belly, everything.

Yunho’s laugh was breathless, wrecked. He kept fucking you through it, holding your legs in place, watching you fall apart with complete awe and total pride.

“That’s my girl. That’s my dumb, messy girl.”

You were crying by the time your third orgasm hit.

And he didn’t stop. Not even close.

“Not done ‘til you’ve soaked the whole fucking bed.”

Yeosang.

You had always assumed Yeosang would be soft.

Gentle. Polite. Almost shy.

But now you were underneath him—spread open, legs over his shoulders, dress bunched around your waist, his cock buried inside you—completely wrecked and shaking.

And Yeosang?

Yeosang hadn’t said a word.

Not one.

Just stared down at you with that unreadable, infuriatingly calm look on his face while he fucked you slowly—so deep, so controlled, so consistent it was driving you insane.

Your fingers twisted in the sheets. “Y-Yeo—can’t—”

His hand came up to your throat—gently, but firm enough to make your next gasp catch—and his hips rolled again.

Right into that spot.

Right into that place he kept hitting again and again and again.

“You can,” he finally said, voice quiet but sharp. “You can take it, baby.”

You whined, vision blurring. “M’gonna—f-feels—”

Yeosang looked down between your bodies, his brows twitching ever so slightly when he saw it.

The wet.

The way your pussy clenched hard around him and started gushing—clear liquid spraying with each helpless jolt of your hips.

You squirted.

You didn’t mean to. Didn’t expect to. But it happened.

“Oh.” His voice dipped lower. Still calm. Still steady. But different.

“You’re squirting?” he murmured, more to himself than you. “That’s how good it feels?”

You covered your face. “I-I—Yeosang—”

He reached down and pulled your hands away, grabbing both wrists and pinning them above your head.

“Don’t hide,” he said, and this time there was a flicker of something smug in his eyes. “Let me see what I did to you.”

You shuddered.

And then he did it again.

Same angle. Same roll. Same deep thrust right against the spot that made your body jerk.

You squirted again.

“Mm.” He tilted his head, blinking slowly. “So messy. What a cute little thing you are.”

“Yeo—Yeosang—too much—!”

“Then cum again.”

That deadpan. That almost disinterested tone as he kept pounding into your soaked cunt, no change in pace, no hesitation, just quiet confidence as he made you come again—

—and squirt again.

The sheets were soaked. Your thighs were shaking. You were gasping, clawing, babbling.

And Yeosang was still looking at you like you were his favorite fucking experiment.

“Didn’t know you could do that,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Guess I’ll have to keep making it happen. Over and over. Until you can't even blink without dripping all over me.”

Writing by @lustlvii please do not translate or publish anywhere

[ggukivrse]

henna kisses | jjk

summary. in which you're stuck waiting for your henna to dry, and jungkook takes full advantage to pepper you with kisses

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

word count: 0.6k

genre/warnings: established relationship au, FLUFF, they’re just very much in love it’s sick

notes: first of all, TYSM FOR 500 FOLLOWERS OMG :0 i literally started this acc 3 weeks ago so this is wild to me, but genuinely, thank you so so much ☹️ i wrote this drabble as a baby army so it’s very self indulgent loll, but some of you wanted to read it when i mentioned it here, so here it is :> likes, comments, reblogs, asks & feedback are very appreciated! enjoy reading <33

⌗ masterlist. ⌗ taglist. ⌗ feedback

Your hands are frozen in mid-air, fingers spread, palms facing the ceiling like you're offering up something delicate to the universe. The henna glistens wetly against your skin, intricate patterns looping and curling over your fingers and wrists.

You can't move. You can't touch anything. You can't even scratch the itch teasing the inside of your elbow. And Jungkook knows it.

He's sitting cross-legged in front of you, chin resting on one hand. He looks far too pleased with himself, far too comfortable.

"You know," you say, careful not to shift too much, "this is your fault."

"My fault?" he echoes, all fake innocence, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You're the one who wanted henna."

"You're the one who did the henna," you argue, looking down at the designs blooming over your skin. Tiny flowers, delicate vines, little stars tucked into the spaces between your knuckles. "And you made it so pretty. I didn't know you could even draw like this."

He beams, the kind of smile that makes your stomach flip even though you're firmly planted on the couch. "I had good inspiration."

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks are heating up. You can't even hide it; your hands are too occupied to pull a pillow over your face or smack him playfully like you usually would.

And Jungkook knows. He scoots closer, the couch cushions dipping under his weight. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Kook," you warn. "Don't you dare."

He grins, devilish, and before you can do anything, he's leaning in, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, feather-light. You squeak, trying to recoil, but you can't do much without ruining the henna.

"You're defenseless," he singsongs, poking at your cheek with the gentlest tap of his finger. You jerk your head away instinctively and he laughs, low and breathy, the sound vibrating right into your chest.

"I hate you," you mutter, glaring.

"You love me," he corrects, like it's the simplest truth in the world.

And he doesn't give you a chance to argue, swooping in to press a kiss to your forehead. Another to your temple. One to the tip of your nose. He's quick about it, peppering kisses wherever he can reach, giggling when you try to dodge.

"Jungkook," you whine, laughing despite yourself. "You're going to make me mess it up!"

"I'm helping," he insists, kissing the corner of your mouth, so soft and sweet it makes your heart ache a little. "Distractions make time go faster."

You groan, slumping against the couch, careful to keep your hands up. "You're impossible."

"You picked me," he reminds you smugly, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. His fingertips are warm and careful, like he knows you can't retaliate and is being extra gentle to compensate. "You and your pretty hands."

Your voice is small when you say it, but it slips out anyway. "You really did a good job."

Jungkook's smile softens. He leans back just enough to look at your hands, admiration flickering across his face like he's proud of the art and proud of you just for trusting him with it.

"You look beautiful," he says simply, no teasing now, just honest, overwhelming affection. "Hands and all."

You can't hug him. You can't kiss him back. All you can do is sit there, heart pounding out a rhythm that's almost as intricate as the designs he drew on you, and wait for the henna — and maybe your own overwhelming feelings — to dry.

taglist | click here to join: @thegreatdepressionme @golden-loona @kissyfacekoo @cookysstuff @whoa-jo @minghaosimp @dark-enigma1806 @yooniepot @levisnumber1 @blueofocean @oumy221 @uarmygguk @libra04 @parkinglot-nights @jungkook1love @eyesforjungkook @ronyiboniyy @sebastianlover @nikkinikj @kenzierj11 @bugbxte @operation-619 @gguklovrr @annyeongbitch7 @sheshya @mswannadiesworld @yunhoswrldddd @myenergyandstuff @stardustbaee

[girlfromflor]

part 3 | supersoldiers!141 x f!reader

they were, indeed, fucked. as a matter of fact, there’s no explaining just how much. you were trouble, big trouble they quickly noticed, especially with the way you’d rest your thumbs on your tactical belt whenever you got a break from training. simon – always the attentive one – pointed it out three days after you met and they all started to get distracted as soon as you hooked your thumbs on the loops of your pants, fingers thoughtlessly resting on your upper thighs.

when training started getting more tiring to all of them – probably your fault, but they didn’t question  – simon would move to your side to give you one advice or two, but before he even started talking you’d – pretend to – shift your attention somewhere else. he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, say something like “pay attention to me” and lecture you on how to keep your posture straight even while holding the heavy rifle in your smaller hands. he didn’t, of course, but he started praising you whenever you did a good job, trying to make you get used to the feedback and also get used to him – maybe you’d seek him out, then.

johnny watched it from afar, how simon suddenly seemed less blunt and more careful – he liked it more than he’d ever admit out loud. against his will, johnny kept his distance from you, not wanting to overwhelm you and piss you off or make you uncomfortable, so kyle had to step up and take his place. which sucked, because they all – very quickly – realized that kyle didn’t really like you. they didn’t know if it was because you were clearly more comfortable around stone cold, small talk simon than around him – sweet, caring and beautiful kyle. it didn’t make sense in his head and it pissed him off. john laughed whenever a pout made its way to kyle’s lips because you – in kyle’s words – “didn’t say a word and then just left the room” when he walked by your side during knife throwing practice. john thought it was cute, how gaz didn’t notice the way your eyes wandered the room whenever he was talking to you, but then as soon as he wasn’t looking, you’d gawk at him with an unknown glint in your eyes.

“she’s got a crush on ya, kyle,” john comments after hearing another one of the younger man’s complaints, all of them tired and sleepy after dinner – the exhaustion from the end of the first week with you around settling deep in their minds.

kyle snorts and shakes his head, “uh huh, i bet she does,” his tone is overflowing with irony. “where did ya even get that from?”

johnny, who’s resting his head on simon’s lap – laying down on the other sofa in their living room – is quick to answer, “ye dinnae see how she drools over ye, when ye nae lookin’.”

simon smiles, his relaxed expression clear due to his unmasked face. he adds to johnny’s words, his eyes on kyle, “bloody irritatin’, it is. i always try t’make her look at me but she keeps all her attention on ya.”

kyle furrows his brows, but he can’t fight the proud, content smile that molds his features. he has to bite his lower lip to contain at least some of it, but even then it’s clear that he’s happy with the words. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

and he did, because two days later he has to fight you – literally – during training. you're faster and stronger than they thought you’d be, in a way none of them had seen before in someone that wasn’t already part of the team – you mostly did gunfight simulations, this was the first hand-to-hand combat training. kyle’s is delighted to knock you off your feet, pinning your hands down to prevent you from attacking him, but you're too quick. you plant your feet to the ground and use all the strength you have in your legs to push him off of you with a hip thrust. he’s caught off guard, which gives you enough time to move over him, left knee on the grass and right knee threatening to squeeze his throat – it was over, you won. he taps your thigh twice and you quickly move to stand up, surprising him when you extend your hand out – he gladly accepts it, taking any excuse to touch you.

“you’re fast,” he points out, opening his water bottle once he has recovered his breath. 

“i’m just as fast as you,” you nod, tilting your head as you watch ghost and cap wrestling on the ground. “but i’m smaller, that has to make me more agile than you lot.”

“makes sense… still, i don’t like to lose,” he jokes, trying to inch closer – to see your reaction he thinks, but deep down he knows it’s more than that. 

you make a face, scrunching your nose. you don’t notice his movements, and that’s a good thing – you won’t have time to move away. john and ghost are up to their feet and you watch as johnny moves to the center where you’ll fight him next. you move towards the makeshift arena – the place located in a glade deep within the woods that surround their house –, but stop midway to speak, “it’s not losing, though. right?” your voice is soft, and it’s the first time kyle gets to see your true colors – just a sweet girl, like they initially thought you were. you laugh nervously and add, “i mean, we’re a team… it’s good that i’ll be able to protect you– if it ever comes to that.”

he barely hears the last part of your sentence before you’re walking towards johnny. kyle’s heart is racing, his mouth is dry and his palms are sweating – he’s nervous? where’s that even coming from? and then he sees it – the tense, shy movement of your palms being wiped on the fabric of your pants. you were nervous, your palms were sweating – and then, so was kyle's. his breath hitches, he searches for john’s eyes but he is distracted talking to you and simon. when kyle looks at johnny he’s relieved to see that the scot eyes’ were already on his. he sighs, watching as johnny mouths “it’s okay, i saw it,” and just like that reassurance washes over him – of course he saw it, if anything he might as well have felt it too. kyle only smiles then, paying close attention to the way johnny checks on him from afar one more time before joining you to begin your fighting sequence.

that’s all the proof that gaz needs to your said crush – there’s no way you could’ve connected so fast if you didn’t like him, like he thought. when they are walking back to their house, simon is quick to address the matter at hand – always the blunt one. he creeps up on kyle from behind and says, “what got ya so nervous today, lovely?” a hand touching his lower back, his voice startling kyle – who’s deep in thought – making goosebumps raise on his nape.

“yeah, turns out it wasn't really me who was that nervous,” gaz states, leaning his weight on simon’s side ever so slightly. he feels it as simon pauses a bit, movements halting just for a small moment.

“you synced with her? that soon?” simon shakes his head, but kyle can feel just how happy he is at the notion – how proud he feels, knowing kyle is giving you space in their life already. kyle wants to get to his knees and match the love simon feels – but the thought itself could set off a chain reaction and god knows they can’t have that in the middle of the woods. simon squeezes gaz’s waist – probably feeling his inner turmoil –, pulling him in a side hug as he whispers, “we told ya she has a crush.”

after that, it got really easy for you and kyle to gravitate towards each other. the others watched amazed at the way you started smiling more around him – sometimes even giggling when he did something to catch your attention. you couldn’t help it, he was just so tender and understanding, sometimes it even seemed like kyle could read your mind. like the one time you had to go to base to show some results of your training tests. in the drive back to your houses, you were riding shotgun with simon as your designated driver – like most of the times, really. his warm body and the three big men in the backseat seemed to have a thing for cold spaces, because the AC was turned to the max and your poor, easily cold frame was nearly shaking from it. you didn't complain, though, trying to not be a burden and disturb their usual dynamic. good for you it wasn’t necessary, kyle felt the discomfort like it was his own. his fingers tapped simon's shoulder, pointing to the AC button after getting his attention. simon quickly turned it down and your immediate relaxation was visible to all of them – you yourself didn’t notice your hunched shoulders until you relaxed on the leather seat. when you looked back to find kyle’s eyes he simply winked at you, mouthing “i gotcha, love” with a smile. you let out a smile of your own, letting it brighten up your face and then you whispered “thank you, pretty boy,” your voice trying to match the flirty implication in his.

simon chuckled, hands shifting on the steering wheel to keep himself from finding your thigh. he could feel it, not only kyle’s content in having your attention – his satisfaction in being the object of your affection – but also your own happiness, your pride in allowing yourself to share a somewhat vulnerable moment with him. simon bites his lips, he can only hope that soon enough he'll get to hear the same whispered words, but directed to him. he knew it wasn't going to take long, since he didn't expect to sync with your emotions so soon and yet there he was, basking in your happy state. 

you didn’t understand how you could feel so utterly happy with such small things – like you feel it four times more. the way you stopped getting so fidgety around them was hint enough – but then you'd get extra happy around kyle. and then, you get extra joyful whenever you are close to them, any of them. simon is the first one to get the physical extension of your – affectionate – admiration. whenever he'd step to your side to talk to you when you were already occupied, you’d touch his forearm slightly – letting him know that you know he's there, “just hang on a second”.

you'd hold him until you finish whatever it is that you're doing, and then you’d turn to face him, eyes on his – a glint of something endearing in them – and an apology on the tip of your tongue, “sorry, what was it you wanted to say?” and he'd always fight the urge to kiss your forehead then, addressing whatever he wanted to say before.

one time he forgets to eat before your daily training on the glade, and mid way through training he feels lightheaded – weak. it was rare for it to happen, and his mood goes all the way to hell because now he's hungry and grumpy, the effects of the physical activities only summing up his hangry state. he had just finished fighting with johnny – knocking him off his feet way too fast –, sitting on an old, layed out tree near the makeshift arena, when you touched his bicep softly.

simon could never snap at any of his teammates, you were no different. he tries to keep his cool, choosing to stay quiet and letting you do the talking first. 

“i've got this… uh, piece of pie that I baked yesterday,” you start, hands holding out the small, glass container where it was displayed a very delicious looking pie. simon looks up at you in wonder and you two stare at each other – blinking once, twice – before you speak again, “do you want it?”

“if i want to eat it?” he furrows his brows. why’d you have to do this right when he's hungry and ready to punch someone? you’re too much of a sweetheart.

“yeah…” you answer, not really knowing what else to say. truth be told, you didn’t know what made you ask that. you usually packed a small container of food for yourself to eat during training because sometimes it was all that helped you to get through the exhausting routine. but today something in the back of your mind was itching, telling you to hand it to simon. so you did. “seems like you need it.”

simon takes the container in his big hands, the smell of the sweet pie knocking him out for a second. you hand him a small fork, to which he thanks you with a mumble, and you watch as he pulls his mask up a bit and takes a big first bite of your baking. he eats it quite fast, earning a ‘calm down, love, it’s not going to run’ from you – and he almost chokes when he hears the pet name, it reaches a deep part of his mind. when he's done he closes the container with the fork inside, saying “i’ll bring this home and give it back t’ya filled with something tasty”. you don't question, of course, maybe he was just being polite – actually, he just wanted an excuse to cook something for you.

when you get back to the arena to your combat training, he's feeling as light as a feather – with a full belly and warm heart. you eye him for a second, a wave of fondness taking over your body and you giggle. the feeling is what you imagine being wrapped in simon's arms would be, and in a way it feels like you're being mentally drowned by him, him, him. when you check up on him one last time, he's staring at you – the hint of a smile visible from the scrunched lines around his eyes.

on the walk home, you can’t hear the end of it. johnny is by your side the whole way, asking – pleading – for you to give him a piece of the pie too. he just loves baked sweet treats, and he thinks you look like a pretty decent cook, so why would you deny it to him? you can’t hold the laugh that escapes your lips, hand playfully slapping his arm as he talks with you – the both of you walking a bit behind the other three.

you take the moment to try and grow a bit closer to him, “tell you what, if you give me a piggyback ride home, i’ll let you inside for some tea and pie.” your eyes have a teasing glint in them, your voice molding a fake conspiratorial whisper.

johnny doesn’t have to be told twice, urging a yelp out of you with the way he’s effortlessly picking you up the second after you finish your sentence. you secure your arms around his shoulders, head playfully knocking on his before you rest altogether.

he takes a faster pace, catching up with the others as he lets out a “look what i have,” in between giggles. 

john smiles, wholeheartedly so. he knew how much johnny had been walking on eggshells around you and how he'd been neglecting himself for your comfort. he also knew how much you'd love him when you finally grew used to him – he's only ever going to make you feel loved.

kyle calls out for the two of you, playfully yelling about betrayal and favoritism. you giggle again, hugging johnny almost intimately as you whisper “don’t let him catch us” in his ear – failing to see the way he leans into you instantly, goosebumps trailing down his neck –, and that's how you end up being chased all the way to your house by kyle, whilst still tightly secured in johnny's back.

“they’re so similar to one another,” john murmurs to simon, who's still walking by his side.

“they are,” simon hums contemplatively. he and john watch as kyle catches the two of you, hugging johnny from behind and locking you between their bodies. “it's crazy how she just fitted right in.”

“it is, innit? thought the problem was going to be something else,” john answers, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he watches you wiggle out of the boys’ embrace and run to the opposite direction – and the way they run after you like in some comic animation, in a heartbeat. “turns out the real problem is keeping these three alive, they’ll figure out the rest.”

you scream, caught off guard when kyle picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, turning to walk towards your front door that had long come into view.

you clutch his shirt, trying to sound stern but failing miserably, your laughter completely taking away all seriousness of your sentence, “kyle! kyle, put me down!” 

“nuh uh, love,” kyle talks back, chuckling and shoving johnny off – who was trying to get you back in his arms.

you try to look up, and quickly recognize the two upside down figures walking right behind you, so you pull them into the mix without a care – you were just so happy –, “cap, cap! please, help me,” you say, and squeal when kyle jumps a bit to shake you on his shoulders. “ah, LT– i fed you, how can you do this to me?” 

you gasp comically in your position, hearing how simon laughs at you. he looks over to price who only shakes his head and throws an arm over the lieutenant's shoulders. kyle lets you down on your porch, hands smoothing your hair down to which you answer with a playful glare.

you take your keys out, unlocking the door and taking your boots off. “y’all can only get inside if you take your shoes off. house rules,” you state, leaving the door open as you make your way to the kitchen.

you hear the sound of them fumbling around and then the click of the door being pushed closed as you put water on a kettle and into the fire, moving to take the pie out of the oven – where you usually kept it. when you turn to place the container on the island you notice how they all seem curious over the space – right, you forgot that it was their first time there.

“you guys want a tour…?” you question from where you’re standing in the kitchen, watching as they turn to look at you from the living room.

“that’d be nice,” johnny answers, looking around – trying to carve every detail to his brain. “been dying tae see yer home.”

you grimace, moving past them and motioning for them to follow. “not really home yet,” you mumble, risking a bit of honesty. it was the first time you’d talk about the conditions of your recent life, “most of the days i can’t sleep.”

john glances over your frame – the words pricking his mind. as you walk around the house, your voice is the only audible thing while you point which room is what. once you're back in the kitchen, the men choose to sit at the kitchen island – to watch you closely in your domestic routine, like this happens everyday – john can’t help but ask, “you’ve been having trouble sleeping?” the urge to drop a ‘sweetheart’ being almost unbearable.

“yeah, s' just… ‘m used to city noise and all that shit,” you reply, avoiding his eyes – occupying yourself with settling down the mugs and plates you'd use. “it’s too quiet here, it's unsettling.”

“i get that, it took me a while to get used to it too,” john shares, his tone comforting and reassuring. “you’re always welcome to knock on our door if ya need anything, y’know?”

you smile at his attempt in making you feel better, his caring personality is something you admire in him. “thanks, cap,” you mumble, moving forward to let your arm touch his – great, real smooth, now he’ll think i’m touch starved— you think to yourself.

only to be met with his hand circling your middle, pulling you closer. his voice is lower when he speaks, but all the boys can make out what he’s saying, “y’know you can call me john, sweetheart…”

and the hot feeling in your cheek is nothing compared to the insane rhythm of your heartbeat. they all notice your flustered state, but they can tell you like it – the pure bliss you feel at the small display of intimacy, the proof that you’re one of them now, that you’re theirs.

surprisingly – or not –, is johnny who breaks the silence, “it was about time,” is almost like a whisper, none of them want to disturb the new harmony you managed to fall into. “thought ye’d only call kyle by his name.”

you furrow your brows, confused – and surprised he talked so openly about it, but enjoying nonetheless. you don’t think twice before answering, “what do you mean? i always call you by your name.” you leave john’s side to take the kettle out the stove, making the tea and plating the pie’s slices for them. 

johnny talks all throughout your movements, “trust me, bonny,” and he sounds absolutely serious, “i would remember if ye did.”

you look up at him as you hand them their respective plates and mugs, getting caught off guard by the look in his eyes – he’s dead serious. you let out a giggle, making a point of saying, “okay then, johnny,” his name rolling heavy in your voice, your teasing tone doing things to his poor mind. “would you guys like some sugar? or milk?”

and just like that, it’s like he’s never even brought up the conversation. you spend a nice, long afternoon talking and laughing – getting to know each other. you quickly realize that you’re somewhat close to all of them, except for johnny – which is odd, because he's the most extroverted of you all. you feel johnny seeping through your walls, and by the end of your little gathering you already feel comfortable enough to hug him goodbye – actually, you pull him into your arms like some unspoken apology and he quietly whispers “it’ll get better from now on”. and you believe him.

not only that, you can feel it deep into your bones – all of their certainty. the way they’re all confident that they have you just as much as you have them, and that you’re already halfway through pursuing a real bond – trust, affection, true intimacy.

series masterlist a/n: next part we'll have more of price and johnny, don't worry. | taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @little-mini-me-world @bath1lda @imthatone-annoyingfriend @night-shadowblood-writes2 @z-wantstowrite @kentuckyhobbit @supernova2205 @thatghostlykid

[augustjoy]

The Color Pink

Based on the following ask: Hii, I was just wondering if you could do Aaron x reader but the team for some reason refuses to warm up to her for a while.  If you can please make the reader hyperfem only if you want to. Thank you!!!! I love the idea of Hotch with a hyperfem girlie – she’d be in pink ALWAYS, with a wardrobe and home full of ruffles! So, the BAU team is against this relationship of Hotch’s because 1. They assume she’s a bimbo due to the hyperfemininity and 2. She’s young. Basically, they are questioning Hotch’s judgement on this one. Flashbacks in italics.

Aaron Hotchner x HyperFem! Reader Angst/Fluff Word count: 2552

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, age gap (reader is 20s/Hotch is 40s), female reader, np physical description (other than having hair long enough to curl and Aaron referring to her as little – which he’s big tall so everyone is small compared to him), hyperfeminine reader, explicit language, consultant reader, BAU being judgy overprotective, Morgan being rude, Spencer and Garcia defending the reader, Reader is a presumed Bimbo…but is actually really smart (Elle Woods-esque),  mentions of food/eating, reader has a flash of self-doubt, mention of Jack, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

Meeting you had been an act of fate. At least, that’s how Aaron saw it. You were not the type of girl he’d typically go for…not ever. But that morning, you’d got a flat tire on your way to work, ironically on Aaron’s way to work. He had to do the right thing, any chivalrous man would, he was going to pull over no matter what, but when you stepped out of your car…that sealed the deal. He needed to pull over because if he didn’t, someone else would, someone potentially dangerous.

--

“Excuse me miss; do you need some help?” Aaron offered.

“Oh, I um – I got a flat. I called Triple A, but they said it be like forty-five minutes.” You explained.

You stepped out of your car and stole the breath from Aaron’s lungs. You were in a satin pink button-up blouse, with high-waisted white trousers, and strappy pink heels. Your hair was cascading over your shoulders in beautiful loose curls, your gaze lifted to his. Aaron had to release a light cough to pull himself out of the trance you had him in.

“Do you have a spare?” He asked.

“I don’ t think so. But like I said, Triple A is on the way, so I guess I will just sit and wait.” You shrugged.

“I’m not sure I feel comfortable leaving you here on your own.” Aaron admitted.

You gave him a once over. He was in a well-fitted gray suit, his hair lightly slicked back, black dress shoes, and a silver Rolex resting on his left wrist. You took quick note of the absence of a wedding ring. A very brief rush of unease slid through you, but it was washed away as he moved his hand to his hip, unknowingly flashing the FBI badge that was clipped to his belt loop.

“I’d hate to be an imposition. Plus, we are strangers…” You eyed him once more.

“Right, I uh – I’m Aaron Hotchner.” He introduced himself and offered you his hand to shake.

You shook it gently, giving him your name. You couldn’t help the blush that crept over your cheeks at the warmth radiating from him. It was your turn to feel breathless. Taking him in once more, you had to admit to yourself that he was handsome. Clearly older than you, but you didn’t mind…and age didn’t define beauty.

Aaron had waited the whole forty-five minutes with you, once Triple A showed up, he waited for you to get everything squared away with them before turning to leave.

“So that’s it?”  You called after him.

“What do you mean?” He questioned.

“You just sat and waited forty-five minutes with me and you’re just going to leave? Without asking me out? Or at least asking for my phone number?” You huffed.

Aaron was speechless. He had wanted to ask you out…truthfully he’d thought about it the moment you stepped out of your car, but he didn’t want you to fell that he was some sort of predator. But now here you were, this gorgeous little thing, asking him to ask you out.

“Would you go to dinner with me Friday? Provided my work doesn’t call me away.” He asks.

“Yes. Pick me up at seven.” You smiled, handing him a light pink business card.

--

Initially, Aaron didn’t introduce you to anyone because he wanted to see if your relationship would bloom into something real. As things did progress, he opened up to you about his life, his job, his family…and his demons. He hadn’t wanted to let his darkness taint your light, your sparkle, but one night while he was staying with you, he’d had a brutal nightmare, one that had him spewing all the information out to you while you held him close, your sparkle shining bright.

Another reason why Aaron had hesitated to really bring you into his world was because you were so different than the other women he’d dated. They were grown-up, mature (maybe even too mature), boring even, and here you were, this pastel princess whose home was filled with pink – ruffled pillows, lace curtains, fashion books, flowers, fluffy rugs, etc. you were the textbook definition of a girly-girl.

He was sure the BAU team would have some pretty strong opinions about his relationship with you, not only because of your differences, but also because of the almost 20-year age gap. It sounded silly, but he really wanted the team to like you.

The first time Aaron introduced you to the team hadn’t exactly gone as he had hoped. He had asked you to join them out at their favorite bar for drinks. They had put on quite the show in front of you, but when you stepped away to get a drink, the truth came out.

--

“Hey guys, I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my girlfriend to join us.” Aaron mentioned casually.

A chorus of “what” and “you have a girlfriend” and “who is she” all rang out at once. He couldn’t help but chuckle at them. He figured he should answer some of their questions now so that way they could focus on getting to know you once you arrived.

“She and I have been together for about six months. It’s getting pretty serious and, uh – she uh…” Aaron smiles to himself. “She um, she’s different than the other girls I’ve dated, so just keep an open mind and get to know her.”

You arrived about ten minutes later, rendering everyone speechless. You walked in with a light pink mini puff dress on. It flowed around you in a cloud of tulle it rested against your upper thighs which were adorned in sparkly nude tights. You’d chosen to wear white lace up heels with it, and your hair was pulled back, pinned up with loose tendrils framing your face.

“Hi! I’m so sorry I’m late, a client called last minute and, you totally do not want to hear about my boring work.” You sighed, meeting the gazes of the stunned agents seated before you.

Aaron had officially introduced you to everyone, they exchanged hesitant pleasantries, and you began making small talk. After a few awkward moments, you excused yourself to get a drink.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Aaron asked.

“No, no. I got it honey. I’ll get you another whiskey.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek and walked toward the bar.

As soon as you were out of earshot, the questions came rolling in. Most notably, Dereks.

“What the hell are you doing man?”

“I beg your pardon?” Aaron was shocked.

“Hotch, man, she’s young enough to be your daughter. And I mean, look at her.” Derek gestured toward where you stood at the bar.

“I am well aware of her age Morgan. She and I have discussed that at length and have both agreed that it didn’t matter. Age doesn’t change how we feel about one another.”

“Hotch, I’m more worried about the fact that she looks like she just walked off of sorority row.” Emily shook her head.

“Yeah, her outfit…Hotch she’s not serious. I mean she’s still a kid.” JJ added.

“That’s enough, she and I are serious. She’s not a kid; she runs a very successful consulting firm, she is kind and sweet, she takes care of me, she gets along with Jack, and I and…well. I love her.” Aaron concluded.

A muffled remark sounded from across the table. Morgan had more to say, and Aaron wasn’t going to let it go. He cared about you and the people across from him were his family, their opinions meant a lot to him…but right now they were letting him down.

“Say it out loud Morgan.” Aaron demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Say it.” Aaron hissed.

“I said she gets along with Jack because they’re closer in age.” Derek shot back.

The table went silent, tension filling the air. Aaron scoffed, shook his head in disbelief, and walked away. Moving towards you, coming up with some lame excuse to get the hell out of there.

“Look, I know that was a lot, but I didn’t say anything that we weren’t all thinking. That girl, she’s a bimbo. Hotch needs someone more serious…more like Beth.” Derek justified.

“Wow.” Penelope scoffed, pushing her chair away from the table. “You guys are terrible.”

“What are you talking about?

“Did you not see his face? Hotch is happy, his smile took over his entire face…because of that girl and you all tore him down so quickly. I mean come on. Spence when was the last time Hotch smiled like that?” Penelope asked.

“The last time Hotch has smiled like that in front of us was back in 2005 when he introduced Jack to the team as a newborn.”  Spencer rattled off.

--

That was about eight months ago. Aaron and you have grown even more serious since then, you moved in together – into a new house where you could set up a space that was all your own, full of pink and ruffles and lace.

Honestly, Aaron had gone as far as buying a ring for you. He wanted to propose and had the whole thing planned. He and Jack were going to take you on a picnic and then they’d ask you to become a permanent part of their family.

Despite the happiness he felt at the idea of marrying you, he couldn’t help the disappointment that crept in. He wanted his family to all be there in support of you two…and his family, well that was the BAU.

He knew he’d have to talk to them, to do something to prove to them how incredible you are.

--

Aaron had called everyone to the round table. He needed to tell them about how serious he really was about you, and he needed them to love you.

 “I asked you all here because today we will have a special guest for lunch.” Aaron went on to explain that you’d be coming in, bringing in lunch from one of the BAU’s favorites. “I know that when you all first met her, you were unsure. But I need you all to realize that I’ve been with her for over a year now, we live together, and…”

“You can’t be serious man. She’s naïve, just some young hot thing seeking an older man, presumably for his money.” Derek interrupted.

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Aaron commanded. “I plan on marrying her, and you guys are my family. I need my family there when I marry this woman. If you can’t get on board…then I guess you aren’t the people I thought you were.” Aaron says with finality.

There was a collective nod and shrug amongst everyone.

--

When you walked in, you could feel the tension like a thick fog. It was all consuming, like picking a hangnail until that piece of skin runs further and further up your finger, bleeding and tender.

You needed this to go well.

Aaron had told you to be your usual self. He wanted the team to like you for you, but you knew it would be best to tone it down at least a little bit. You’d choose to wear light blue jeans, a chunky pink sweater, and some heeled ballet flats. Your arms were juggling multiple bags, filled with sandwiches and another one with drinks for everyone.

“Hi guys.” You offered a small wave as you entered the conference room.

“Hey sweetheart, let me help you with those.” Aaron was quick to grab the bags from you.

“You look stunning as always! It’s good to see you again!” Penelope greeted.

“Oh, thanks babe! I love the new hair; it is such a good color!” You complimented. “Oh, Spence, I got you something!” You pulled a wrapped book from your bag, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He asked, gently pulling at the wrapping. “The Narrative of John Smith, this is one of my favorites!” Spencer gushed.

“It’s a special edition, they only made 200 of them. But that’s not the best part…open the cover.” You were giddy with excitement.

Spencer opened the book to reveal that it had been signed. “Are you kidding me! This is amazing, thank you so much!”

“It’s really no problem.” You smiled.

Aaron was beaming at you, you had been so kind, showing them all who you really were, and he just hoped that they’d all finally see you for who you truly are.

As everyone finished their lunch, you began clearing the trash. Everyone offers thanks to you, the girls planning a day out with you. Each of them seemed to be coming around except for Derek. Aaron couldn’t figure out why he was so against you.

--

You said your goodbyes and made your way out. They had all filtered out of the conference room when Aaron decided to confront Derek once and for all.

“Everyone else has come around, so why can’t you? What is your problem with her?” Aaron asked.

“It’s not her that I have a problem with. Not really.” Derek shrugged. “Look man, I am sorry for how I have acted towards her. It’s unacceptable. But I don’t think you dating her is a good idea.”

“I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced Morgan. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“You think that now Hotch. But what are you going to do when she up and walks away. That is the type of girl who will ruin your life and Hotch, you’ve been hurt too many times. You and Jack have lost far too much.”

“Derek, I know you are worried for me, but I have to see this through. I really love this girl, and she can handle herself, she makes good money, so I know that isn’t the motivation here. She is everything to me, and she has done nothing but prove that she feels the same for me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I have your back man, and if you love her, then I’m not going to stand in your way.”

--

Things began looking up after that. Derek had pushed his concerns aside and took the time to get to know you, which only made him feel like an idiot for his behavior. Aaron had been right, you could hold your own – you were smart and witty and far to quick with your words, giving him a run for his money. Derek started to see how big your heart was, and he saw the changes in Aaron thanks to your presence in his life. He started to actually appreciate you and your love for his boss.

Aaron told you about his interaction with Derek and you offered some valuable insight.

“Honey, Derek looks up to you. You have made a huge impact on his life, and he has seen you lose so much because of your work, he’s seen you in, quite literally, your lowest moment. He just wants to protect you from hurting like that once again.”

“You are the smartest person I know sweetheart.” Aaron pressed a kiss to your temple.

--

Months later, the BAU team stood and witnessed Aaron and you vowing to spend forever with one another. You had finally been welcomed into this family.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust@khxna@crimesthatnooneaskedfor

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 4

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 3 | Series Masterlist | Part 5

Chapter Summary: You try to continue the date like "normal" after Bucky's promise.

Chapter Word Count: Almost 3.4k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, unease, tension, possessiveness, mental and emotional whiplash, reader is trying to stay calm, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . I no longer do taglists, so please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“You’ll be out of your apartment before the end of the month.”

The statement played on a morbid loop in your mind as Bucky pulled you up from your chair. The guard gave you two plenty of room to enter the penthouse again. You looked at him, trying to convey in your expression that you needed him to do something. Anything. The man gave you nothing in return. It was pointless to try. He worked for Bucky, not you. He wouldn't care.

“Did you mean what you just said? Your promise?” You asked as you followed Bucky to the dining room table. You wanted him to take it back, to tell you it was a joke. He couldn't make you leave your home by the end of the month. He had no right.

“I think you know the answer,” he said, pausing when you yanked your hand away and crossed your arms.

“And I think you have a lot of nerve,” you uttered as he pulled out your chair. “Where the hell do you get off? And how do you even plan to get me out of my home? It’s not like you own the building.”

You had no idea how deep Bucky’s pockets ran. There was a chance he could buy the building tomorrow or bribe someone into evicting you. Would he stoop that low?

“I adore you, Kotyonok, but I’m not going to tell you and ruin the surprise,” he smiled, gesturing for you to take a seat. “And you haven't seen me get off yet.”

You ignored his comment as you sat down and stared into the flame of the candlelight. The familiar scent of the meal drifting from the kitchen put you at ease for the most part, but your stomach turned. Would this really be where you'd spend your meals from now on? It didn't matter that the penthouse was beautiful. You had a home. Maybe it wasn't as nice as this, but it was still yours.

Did Bucky care about your distress at all?

You blinked when you saw your wine glass on the table. The guard had grabbed both of your glasses from the balcony. For a man of his size, he sure as hell moved quietly. “Thanks,” you whispered, taking another swig to help calm your flaring nerves.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“You know, I was so excited to have you in our home I don’t think I introduced the two of you,” Bucky said as the man stood tall. “This is Raymond, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you call him Ray since you’ll be seeing a lot of him.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Bucky said “our” again. Not “his”. You wanted to go back to bed and hide under your covers. “It’s nice to meet you. Is it okay if I call you Ray?” You asked, not wanting his boss to speak for him.

How and why did he work for him anyway?

His eyes were a brighter shade of blue than Bucky’s, but still had a touch of coldness. Though his expression did soften a fraction as he considered your question. “You may. And it’s nice to meet you, too,” he replied, nodding toward the kitchen before he stepped back.

The chef walked over seconds later with plates in hand, a large smile on his face. “Here we are. We have the…” You tuned him out as the dish was set in front of you, your eyes on Bucky across the table. He didn’t look at the chef either, your gazes locked in a silent battle. Your hand began to ache before you realized you were gripping the handle of your knife. You released it and looked away, but you caught his smirk anyway.

He won.

“Enjoy!” The chef finished, clasping his hands together.

Bucky shot him a look before he could walk away. “I’ll enjoy it once I know she does,” he said, his smile soft as he turned his attention back to you. “Dig in.”

A beat passed and all eyes were on you, waiting for you to have the first taste. It was unsettling to say the least as you blindly grabbed a piece of flatware to take a bite. You slowly chewed the food and wished you could've appreciated the additional flavors the chef added to make your favorite meal that much better, but being under the scrutiny of the entire room took away the delight.

“It’s delicious,” you announced, bringing another piece to your mouth. The chef’s audible sigh made it hard to swallow. What would Bucky have done if you didn’t like the food? “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Bucky added, still gazing at you like you were the center of his world. “Ray, would you show him out please?”

The chef didn’t have to be told twice as Ray wordlessly led him away.

You didn't miss the way Bucky's eyes followed your motions as you continued to eat. They told you he’d rather have you for the meal. That he’d reach under the table at any moment and part your thighs to gather the taste of you on his fingers. You firmly pulled your legs together.

“Are you not hungry?” You asked. He hadn't touched anything on his plate. Too busy staring at you. Why was he so fascinated with watching you do something as mundane as eating?

“I wanted to make sure you ate enough before I dug in,” he answered, finally taking a bite. He groaned as his eyes slipped shut, the sound making you press your legs even closer together. Being handsome didn't excuse a thing and you refused to let him get to you. “You're right. This is delicious.”

You averted your eyes when he ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, you hired him, so I imagine he's an amazing chef.”

“He is. I’m not a bad cook, but I don’t cook as often as I'd like.”

You nodded. Running a club likely kept him busy, but he could've used his free time cooking or doing something else instead of looking into your life. You ranted about that already though.

“Maybe we can have a day of the week where we make a meal together. We’ll take turns picking different meals to try, like pizza. We’ll have to make a pizza together,” he said, leaning forward as his eyes lit up. “I could even set up a projector on the balcony if you wanted to cuddle outside and watch a movie. Or we could do something indoors.”

“What if I don't want pizza? Or a movie night?” You asked, trying to gauge his reaction since you actually enjoyed pizza and movies.

“If that isn't what you're in the mood for, we can figure it out together,” he offered.

“Can we?” You asked, pushing a bit of the food around with your fork. “Or will you just make the decisions for me?”

You were speaking as if you planned to continue with his delusion. That you would actually have dinner dates and movie nights and cuddle. Things you always wanted with the right partner. The one you chose.

He twirled the knife in his hand before he pointed it at you. “I told you I don’t want to control you.”

“Yet you’re putting me in a cage.”

“You have a lot of freedom,” he retorted, taking another bite. “It’s not like I’m telling you to stop spending time with your friends or not have hobbies. I just want you close by. And about your job-”

Your eyes flashed. “If you’re about to tell me I have to quit, I will throw wine on you.”

“Thought you said it was too delicious to waste.”

“I’ll throw your glass on you and enjoy the rest of mine,” you said, warmth creeping up your neck when he chuckled. “Don’t laugh. I’m serious, Bucky. I’m not going to quit my job. I don’t care how much money you have. I love what I do.”

He laughed still, but held a hand up on surrender. “Kotyonok, I won’t make you quit your job. I know you love being a florist and I’m not about to take something away that makes you happy.”

You reigned your inner claws in. “So, I can keep working like normal? And why are you calling me Kotyonok? What happened to doll?”

“Doll, Kotyonok, you suit them both.” He reached up and ran a hand through his hair, looking every bit like the king of his castle. “And you can.”

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you said, wishing you didn’t feel the need to thank him when it shouldn’t be his decision to begin with.

The two of you ate in semi-comfortable silence after that. You wanted to trust that he wouldn’t mess with your job, but he was interfering in the rest of your life. Maybe it wasn’t a cage he had you in after all, but he did have you on a leash.

Either way, you were his pet.

“Dance with me,” he stated once your plates were clear.

“There’s no music,” you said before a soft melody began to play in the room. You glanced around and tried to find where the speakers were. Ray must’ve turned it on.

You allowed him to help you up from your seat to hold you close. You bit back a protest when he guided your hands to rest at the base of his neck. There was hardly any room between you as he rested his hands on your hips and helped you sway to the slow beat. It contrasted with how your heart raced and you had to close your eyes to escape his gaze.

“I felt like I’d been asleep for a long time until you came along. You woke me up. Made me feel,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. “We’ll be happy together.”

His words had you catching your breath. He wasn’t the kind of predator who went right for the kill or the kind that merely stayed in the grass to bide his time. This was a cat and mouse of sorts. He caught and released you. The scary part was you didn’t know how long he’d hold onto you before he sank his teeth in or how long he’d let you run before he caught you again.

“I really want to kiss you,” he murmured, your heart thudding more as he rested a hand on your cheek.

“Not on the first date,” you said, hoping it sounded more like a tease than a complete refusal.

He chuckled and brought his lips to your ear. “What does our second date get me?”

You didn’t want to say the wrong thing, especially since he was playing along. But how long would you be able to fight off his want for you? “I guess we’ll play it by ear,” you answered.

“Making me work for it. I respect that,” he said, checking his watch as the song changed. “Speaking of being respectful, I should probably get you back to your place.”

As eager as you were to leave, you still asked, “No dessert?”

His heated eyes swept over you as he traced the diamond necklace with his finger. “I want you for dessert, but I’m trying to be good,” he replied, his voice husky as you held your breath. “I also made sure we’d have dessert to share in the car. Why don’t you go get your clutch and we can go?”

“Sure,” you said, taking one last look around the place as you went to get it. Bucky went to Ray and whispered something you couldn’t make out, but you went to the door instead of trying to eavesdrop. You didn’t want to know what the conversation was about. If it didn’t involve you, well, it wasn’t your business to begin with. And if it involved you, you were bound to find out anyway and you were too tired and mentally drained to deal with it.

A bath and more wine wouldn’t even help.

“I hope you like it,” Bucky smiled, holding up a small container as he joined you with Ray right behind him.

“Let me guess,” you said, taking the container from his hand. “It’s my favorite.”

“Of course,” he said, opening the door and putting an arm back around you.

You looked back when Ray didn’t follow you into the elevator, wishing he’d join you so you wouldn’t be alone with Bucky in there. You supposed it didn’t matter. Would he stop his boss if he tried anything or just look the other way?

It was surreal to leave the penthouse. You half expected him to go back on his word and not let you go. You glanced at him as the elevator went back down to the garage. Besides being a walking red flag, he was still a mystery.

“You said your mom would’ve loved me. Past tense,” you said, seeing his jaw clench. “Did something happen to her?”

He tightened his arm around you as the elevator stopped. “She’s gone and that’s a topic for another day,” he said, pausing to give you a tender smile. “But thank you for asking.”

The man had issues, but you hadn’t meant to touch on a sore topic. Why were you asking personal questions about him anyway? You weren’t his girl. He wasn’t going to be your guy. This wasn’t a fairytale. If it was, he would be the villain disguised as a king.

Bucky helped you back into the car, once again not waiting for the driver, and got in beside you. He barely had the door closed before you pulled you into his lap, the container almost falling from your hand as the other went to his chest. “Bucky, what are you-”

“I said you could sit in my lap after dinner,” he smirked, running a hand along your thigh. Your body went rigid as his hand trailed higher. “I won’t do anything except feed you.”

You stayed perfectly still as he moved his hand away and opened the container. He promised he wouldn't force anything tonight, but you didn't want to throw fuel on the fire by shifting and inadvertently teasing him. It would be fine. A short drive and you’d be back at your apartment.

“Open,” he ordered. You obeyed, your mouth opening up for him to place a piece of the dessert on your tongue. He swore under his breath as you closed your mouth to chew and his hand found its way back to your thigh. “Swallow it, Kotyonok.”

You were lucky you didn’t choke, the normally sweet treat sliding bitterly down your throat. He probably imagined saying those exact words to you in a very different sort of scenario. Feeling his hips move slightly beneath yours, he was likely imagining it right this second.

“Good girl,” he sighed, feeding you another piece before he buried his face in your neck. “I can't wait until you're really home.” His breath tickled your skin. “I won't have to say goodnight and watch you walk away. You’ll be beside me and fall asleep in my arms.”

“In your home,” you whispered, tilting your head to give you some space, but he followed.

“Our home,” he corrected you. “End of the month.”

Your chest ached, but you breathed evenly. You were almost home and could panic once you were alone. “It’s too soon. You understand that, right?”

“I went too long without having you by my side. You understand that, right?” He asked, cupping your cheek to make you look at him. “You went too long without me, too.”

It wasn’t fair that he was trying again to prey on your loneliness. “Bucky, you have to give me some leeway here.”

“We can figure it out together,” he said, the same thing he said during dinner. Dismissive. He thought he was going to get his way. And he would, wouldn't he?

“Well, we aren’t figuring that out tonight,” you said, pushing off his lap when the car came to a stop and fixing your dress since it rode up. “Good night.”

He stopped you from getting out. “I have to walk you to your door.”

“I’m not letting you in,” you warned. You needed your space.

“You do remember that I can get in your place without you opening the door for me, right?” He cupped your cheek again when your eyes rounded. “But I won’t do that tonight. I’m just making sure you get in safely.”

“That’s ironic coming from you,” you mumbled.

He chuckled and helped you out. Your building normally looked like a safe haven, but it was like there was a clock overhead counting down the moment until it was no longer yours. “I really do love how sweet you are, but I love your claws when they come out.”

“Careful. I just might scratch you.”

He groaned, leading you inside. “You know, you’re welcome to scratch up my back. Leave your mark on me and I’ll leave one on you.” He winked when you caught his eye. “And in you.”

He caught you when you stumbled. “Stop saying stuff like that, please,” you begged, straightening yourself out. You weren’t sure how much more you could take tonight.

“I can’t help myself,” he said, taking your phone from his pocket once you got to your door. “I had a really nice time tonight.”

His fingers touched yours as you took your phone back. “I had a nice time, too,” you said. Under normal circumstances, a romantic dinner and diamond necklace would’ve been a dream come true. “Good night, Bucky.”

He lingered as you unlocked your door. You turned to remind him that you weren’t inviting him, but you couldn’t speak when he leaned in. His lips brushed the corner of yours, all too gentle and intimate.

“Sweet dreams, Kotyonok.”

You ducked inside without another word and locked the door, listening for his footsteps. It took a moment, but you heard him walk away before you slid to the floor. It felt like you could finally breathe again since you were home and he wasn’t going to bother you again tonight.

Your heart sank though when you checked your phone and saw a message from Addison.

“Change of plans for tomorrow and I’m so sorry, but Brady somehow got us a reservation at The Terrace. Can you believe it?! Maybe we can hang out the day after?”

Tears burned your eyes. You were looking forward to seeing her. It would've been nice to pretend that everything was normal. Or maybe you would've told her at least something about your situation.

Your mind drifted to Bucky. The Terrace was one of the best restaurants around and usually booked a couple of months in advance minimum. Was it a coincidence that Brady somehow got them reservations on the day you were supposed to hang out with Addison or did your new suitor have something to do with it?

Speak of the devil, you received a new message from the man himself.

“Thank you again for the wonderful date. Are you free tomorrow night? I’d love to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Your eyes narrowed. The second you see that your plans are broken, he messages you? If you didn't think he meddled before, you certainly did now.

“I don’t have anything to wear.”

He messaged back seconds later. “Yes, you do. I can have it sent over or have it ready for you here.”

You huffed out a laugh before a couple of tears fell. Meeting Bucky’s friends would be another step in his plan to make you his. If they didn’t like you, maybe they’d sway him into forgetting about you. It was wishful thinking. Because you knew in your heart that Bucky wasn’t going to let you go.

But if he was going to play, maybe you could find a way to throw him off his game.

“I actually have plans. Maybe another time.”

You didn't bother looking to see if read the message or if he responded. Your life was your own. Bucky would have to deal with it. But knowing how he handled things so far, he’d find a way to have you on his arm tomorrow night.

Yay to @targaryenvampireslayer for guessing who the guard is! And what's Bucky going to do since you declined meeting his friends? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Princess Worth Saving

Part 4 of Bradford's Princess

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim misses a call from you in your time of need, and after he saves you, he promises never to leave his princess alone again.

Warnings: angst, robbery, r is held at gunpoint, comfort and fluff, domestically dominant Tim, softie!Tim

Word Count: 4.1k+ words

A/N: Thank you yet again to @nevereclipse for sharing this idea and letting me have so much fun with it. You're a genius and I hope you like this!

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

Tim pushes your front door open, stepping inside with a large gift box in his arms.

“Hi,” you greet, tipping your head to the side. “Do you need help with that?”

“I got it,” he assures you, kicking the door closed. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes even as you smile. As usual, you stand on the couch cushion and wait for Tim to set the box down and approach you. His hands are warm and steady on your hips as you lean forward to hug him tightly.

“I’m sorry,” he says while he pulls you over the back of the couch and into his arms.

“For what?”

You loop your arms around his shoulders, leaning your head against his shoulder as you breathe in his cologne.

“I know I said I would go shopping with you tomorrow, but Lopez and Harper caught a case and need all the help they can get,” he explains, rubbing his hand along your back as he circles the couch and sits. “I offered to work with them.”

“That’s fine, Tim,” you say against his neck. You interrupt yourself to plant a kiss below his ear, then pull back to look at him. “It’s your job. I get it.”

“It shouldn’t come between us.”

“It’s not.” You chuckle at the disappointed look on his face, bringing your hands forward to squish his cheeks until he grunts. “It’s a day of shopping, not our wedding. I’ll be fine.”

“Take my credit card,” he offers, dragging his hands along your waist. “Get whatever you want.”

You lean forward, brush your lips against Tim’s, then remind him, “I already have what I want.”

The mall is just opening as you arrive. The stores are turning on their different music, overlapping in the main walkways as gated doors are opened and lights buzz above you. You’d been looking forward to walking through the stores with your hand in Tim’s, getting his feedback about what you wanted to buy, and enjoying the day with him. You didn’t want him to see how disappointed you were, so you maintained a brave face last night and distracted yourself by kissing him. Now, you try to distract yourself from how empty your hand feels and how strange it seems to not have Tim stationed at your side as a guardian, a lover, and a friend.

Your favorite store is your first stop, and you have a short list saved to your phone of everything you want to look at, try on, and buy. Tim usually looks over your shoulder when you scroll through Pinterest or online sales, pointing out what would look good on you or be a good addition to your home, until he distracts himself by playing with your hair or kissing you until you set your phone aside.

After greeting the college-aged girl working behind the counter, you walk to the back of the store and begin looking through hangers and at displays, practically hearing Tim’s voice in your head as you consider what you like.

Lucy tips her chin up when Tim returns from Angela’s desk. They’ve been looking through witness statements and evidence photos in hopes of finding something they can use to identify the robbery and homicide suspect. He’s robbed several stores in a few short weeks, and during the last theft, he shot and killed an innocent bystander. With the full attention of the LAPD, they suspect he’ll either lay low or keep progressing in violence.

“Is that you?” Lucy inquires.

“What?” Tim sighs as he returns to his previous seat.

“That smell. What is it… rose?”

“Oh. It’s some elixir or something,” Tim murmurs, pushing a case file into his designated ‘unhelpful’ pile.

Lucy smiles, leaning over her keyboard. “Did you buy it for a special someone?”

“She does have her own money and free will, you know,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t just buy her things, contrary to station belief.”

“No, you also get all soft and gooey inside when we bring her up. I can see that you want to smile.”

“What I want is to get back to work so I can go home on time. I was supposed to have today off, Chen.”

“Ah, that’s why you’re grumpy. You’re here with me instead of your pretty princess.”

“Are you done?”

Lucy’s smile droops as she admits, “Yeah, I’m done.”

Less than a minute later, she looks away from an evidence log to inquire, “Why do you smell like her elixir or something?”

“Chen,” Tim warns.

She raises her hands and returns to work, assuming she knows why the scent of your skincare lingers on Tim. If he were slightly less grumpy, she’d ask him how long he’s been assisting you in getting ready.

“Does he always target places that have more than one store?” Tim asks. “Malls, strip malls, outlets?”

“Yes!” Nyla calls from her desk.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, turning to his computer to load a map of Los Angeles.

“Ooh, that color would look so good on you,” you tell a woman staring longingly at a sundress.

“You really think so?” she inquires softly.

“Absolutely! It compliments your hair and skin, and I think your eyes would pop against it.”

“It’s a little… bolder than what I usually wear,” she admits.

You run your fingers along the dress, nodding appreciatively at how it feels. “Try it on. Never too late to wear something new.”

She steps forward and finds her size, smiling at you as she asks a nearby employee to unlock the fitting room. You continue browsing, looking for a sweater Tim sent you a screenshot of last week.

“Are you searching for something specific?” the employee whose nametag says Jenna inquires kindly.

You unlock your phone and find the image as you answer, “This sweater. I saw it online, but I wanted to check in store before I ordered it.”

“Oh, yes,” she murmurs, looking over her shoulder. “I think we moved them to one of the racks over by the register. Let me check for you.”

“Thank you so much,” you call after her, glancing toward the fitting room.

The woman you spoke to before steps out, smiling with the dress draped over her arm.

“And?” you ask.

“I love it,” she admits. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Everyone deserves to wear what they love and feel beautiful.”

She thanks you again before approaching the checkout area, and you text Tim to let him know you’re thinking of him. He had a little longer before work this morning than he does most days, so you enjoyed the extra time together. You sat on the bathroom counter as he did your skincare, and you’ve already decided to surprise him with a homemade dinner tonight, making the most of what was supposed to be an entire day together.

“I found them!” Jenna calls, stepping back into your eyeline. “We have more colors here than that online listing, too.”

“Perfect,” you reply, following her through the store as the mall gets busier.

“Are you sure that’s the same guy?” Lucy asks, leaning closer to the monitor.

“We might be able to answer that if we could see him,” Nyla points out.

Lucy pulls back with a mumbled apology, allowing the others to see what they suspect could be security footage from the first robbery. The jewelry store on the other side of the mall captured nearly a minute of footage facing the targeted store before it moved. In the video, a man wearing a black sweatshirt speaks to the man behind the clothing store counter, then runs out with his arms full of clothes and small items.

“He didn’t look like he had a gun,” Angela muses.

“Progression,” Tim says simply as he clicks the mouse to play another video. “This is from this week.”

This video is blurrier, but it shows the gun pulled from his pants, aimed at the store clerk, and then jerked toward the murder victim now lying in the morgue.

“For a few hundred dollars,” Nyla sighs. “Okay, what else did you get?”

“Possible name,” Tim says, passing a police record over his shoulder.

“We’ll get a warrant,” Angela responds. “Keep looking. And thank you.”

Tim lifts his phone from the desk, smiles, and sets it aside again. Lucy decides not to comment, but she briefly wonders if you have any idea how far gone Tim Bradford is for you.

You open your wallet to pay at the third store you visit, shaking your head when you see Tim’s credit card tucked in front of your ID. Last night, you told him you didn’t need him to buy you anything, though you appreciated the offer. It’s one of the ways Tim shows he loves you, you know, but it’s not necessary. Maybe you’ll use it on one little thing you can both enjoy, like a book or something for dessert.

With another bag hooked on your arm, you enter a store marketing the newest pop culture merchandise and vinyl records. You don’t need anything, and it isn’t on your list, but you’re sure you’ll find something you like or that Tim might enjoy.

“Welcome,” the store attendant calls over the music. “Let me know if you need help or a fitting room.”

“Thank you,” you reply, walking toward the large clearance sign at the back of the store.

As you look through the hangers of graphic tees and patterned hoodies, your gut tells you something is wrong. Since dating Tim Bradford, your instincts have sharpened and begun to sound like him. You move toward the door but hesitate when you see a limited-edition Dodgers jersey. No one enters the store, and the clerk is more than happy to help you get Tim’s size from the wall and even gives you 10% off. Shaking your head as you exit the store, you check your phone before you head to the next store. Now, when you think about missing Tim, you wonder how you managed to go shopping without him carrying your bags before. The thought makes you smile, and you text Tim another short update and reminder that you love him, for more than carrying your bags… and you, when the occasion calls for it.

“Bradford, you got anything?” Nyla asks over the radio.

“Negative,” Tim replies. “Boss said he didn’t show up today and he’s on his third strike. We’ll drive by the house again, check a few stores along the way.”

“Okay. Keep us updated.”

Tim sets the radio in the console, slowing as he nears a strip mall less than three blocks from the suspect’s job. It looks normal, people come and go freely, so he continues driving.

“Where do you think he is?” Lucy asks.

“Laying low,” he replies. “He isn’t a cold-blooded killer; he shot someone, so he’s probably letting that cool off before he pulls another job.”

“Isn’t it weird that he doesn’t take much? That he hits stores and malls with lower-end prices?”

“He’s targeting places he’s more likely to get away with robbing,” Tim says. “They’re not as likely as say a jewelry store to have cameras or to prosecute. Insurance pays out, they write it off. That’s why a shooting throws such a major wrench in his plan.”

“Interesting,” Lucy hums. “Hey, there’s another mall a block east of here, if you want to check it out.”

Tim nods, hitting his blinker to turn off before they check his house.

“Good morning,” you greet as you enter a men’s clothing store.

“Morning,” the teenage boy behind the counter replies. “Everything is 25% off today, and clearance is buy one get one for a dollar.”

“Awesome. Thank you!”

“Sure. My name’s Dustin, let me know if you need anything.”

You nod, moving slowly along the right wall, looking for something Tim would wear. He spoils you with gifts, and though it isn’t your preferred love language (not like it is for him, at least), you like getting him small things and spending time with him while he enjoys it.

This is the busiest store you’ve been in today, but you attribute that to the sale and the fact that it’s nearing lunchtime. Four men browse the clearance racks while two more talk about colors and debate which items to try on. You smile at the only other woman in the store, who taps her finger back and forth between two different sizes, like she’s trying to remember what size she needs to buy.

“Sir, that door needs to stay open,” Dustin calls. “Mall policy.”

The door clicks closed, and you turn just as the hoodie-wearing man slides the lock into place. “Everybody stay calm, and this will go a lot smoother and faster,” he says.

You step backward, your eyes widening as you drop your bags and fumble for your phone. The woman beside you ducks behind the closest rack, whispering to whom you assume is a 911 dispatcher. One of the men makes a discreet call, holding his phone against his leg. Your first idea isn’t 911, however. After you tap Tim’s name, you pull a shirt off a display table to drape over your wrist and hide your ringing phone.

“Nobody move!” the man demands, raising a gun above his head. “Empty the register.”

Dustin nods as he fumbles with the control on the tablet beside him. The woman beside you ends her call abruptly when the intruder walks toward the back of the store. Tim’s voicemail plays, muffled beneath the shirt as you attempt to end the call. Before you can move your other hand, the man rips the shirt away. His fingers wrap cruelly around your wrist, tugging you closer as he displays your phone to the other shoppers-turned-hostages.

“You see this?” he yells. “Stupid! I said stay calm and stay where you are.”

You turn your head away from him, his voice too loud in your ear, and his touch painful. He twists your arm sharply, causing you to drop your phone onto the table your thighs are pressed against. You quickly forget that your arm is suspended over your head and pulled back painfully when the cold barrel of a gun is pressed against your temple.

“Don’t do what she did,” the man says, quieter now, as his chest heaves against your side. “How’s that register coming?”

“It’s open, but we haven’t been to the bank yet this week or anything, so there isn’t much,” Dustin rambles.

“Well, that won’t do. What should we do about that?” he asks, leaning too close to you as his hand twitches on the gun.

“If he moved out yesterday, he was probably upset about the shooting, right?” Lucy asks, returning to the shop after an unhelpful conversation with the suspect’s former roommate.

“That’s one possibility,” Tim replies, closing the door too hard. His phone lights up, and he furrows his brows when he sees a missed call from you. He wasn’t gone long, and you rarely call when he’s at work. As he prepares to call you back, dispatch radios an alert of a robbery in progress.

“The mall,” Lucy sighs. “Think it’s our guy?”

Tim is no longer concerned about that. He hits the lights and sirens, yanks the gear shift into Drive, and steers the shop into a tight U-turn to speed toward the scene. It’s not just any mall, it’s the mall you are in. Tim decides not to call you back, his adrenaline pumping as his mind threatens to show him the worst-case scenarios.

“Tim,” Lucy grunts. “Easy.”

He doesn’t reply, blowing through a red light as he nears the mall.

“What store?” he asks.

Lucy opts not to argue. She raises the radio to ask where exactly the armed suspect is, then tells Tim. He follows the signs toward the entrance closest to that store, pulling up onto the curb before he pulls his gun from his side and leads Lucy inside.

The mall is evacuating, so people are running out toward their cars, some screaming while others shove people and displays aside carelessly.

“Where?” Tim barks at a security guard cowering behind a table in the food court.

“Straight through this archway, and then right,” the man answers, pointing weakly with his stun gun.

“Put that away before you hurt someone,” Lucy demands.

She follows Tim as they enter the archway. He clears the corner, then moves quickly but carefully toward the closed door separating him from you and a man with a gun.

“Tim, think about this first,” Lucy pleads.

“I am,” he assures, ducking to look through the windows covering the front of the store. “One armed at the back of the store,” he tells her. “One civilian behind the counter.”

“And the door is locked,” Lucy adds, nodding toward the heavy metal rod holding the door in place.

“Back up,” Tim requests.

He stays low and shoots through the glass panel beside the door. It shatters as his shot echoes, but he doesn’t care about the noise as he climbs through the opening, his gun aimed at the thief.

Tim swallows and moves his gun an inch to the left when he sees that the man has a hostage. He reminds himself that he can’t remember it’s you, not if he wants to ensure you go home safely with him. For now, he’s Tim Bradford, the cop, not Tim Bradford, the man with a princess in need of saving. A cruel voice in his head points out that you might not be in this situation if he’d answered your call, but it’s too late to think like that.

“LAPD,” Lucy yells, taking her position beside Tim. “Put the weapon down and let me see your hands."

The man shakes his head and moves behind you, his gun at your temple and his other arm around your neck. You keep your eyes on Tim, your teeth grinding together painfully as you dig your fingers into your palms.

“Out,” Tim demands. Dustin rushes out through the broken window, disappearing around the corner as the two men closest to the entrance follow after him.

“Let the other hostages go,” Lucy encourages. “Then we can talk.”

“Sure,” the man says. “Everyone behind me can go.”

The rest of the customers take that invitation, running as fast as they can out of the store. Then, you’re left alone with a crazed gunman who didn’t get what he wanted, and two cops who don’t have a clear shot. Tim nods to you, nearly imperceptibly, but you don’t know what it means. Is it a promise he’ll save you, a command to do something?

“It’s over,” Tim says. “Let her go, and this goes much smoother for you.”

“I lost everything,” the man behind you replies. “It’s been over.”

You look at Lucy, then quickly turn your eyes to the left. She narrows her eyes slightly, so you move your fingers away from your palm. She tips her head quickly, then adjusts her grip on her gun.

“Bradford,” she murmurs softly. “Derecha.”

At that, you pull to your left, gaining less than a foot of freedom before the man tightens his grip on your neck. Or tries to. Tim takes the opening, firing at his chest. His arm falls away as you stumble back toward Lucy, who holsters her gun and steps toward you.

“Cuff him, Chen,” Tim says, taking her place. He pulls you into his arms, tucking your face against his chest as you cling to his uniform. You hear Lucy talking into her radio, but you’re so relieved to be with Tim that you don’t listen. Within a few minutes, you’re being led away from your boyfriend and escorted into an ambulance. The paramedics tell you it’s just a quick check of your vitals, but you watch the mall parking lot outside as they work, ignorant of what they do as you wait until you can return to Tim.

“I understand,” Tim tells Wade. “Can I go now?”

Wade sighs as he signs off on Tim’s statement. He nods, then walks toward the sergeant interviewing Lucy. Tim turns toward the line of ambulances parked in the handicap spaces, but he doesn’t know which one you’re in.

You’ve been waiting beside a police car for the last minute and a half, watching Tim's back. So, when he turns away from his watch commander and is alone, you don’t hesitate to run toward him. He doesn’t see you coming, yet still manages to catch you in his arms. Relief floods into him, seeping into you where you’re pressed against him.

Tim clings to you, one arm secure around your waist, while the other hand raises to your shoulder to brush your hair away from your face.

“Get out of here, Bradford!” Angela yells when she sees you in his arms. “Take her home!”

Tim takes you to his home, though you spend enough time at each other’s places that the lines are beginning to blur. He pats your hip after helping you change, a silent instruction to sit on his bed. You obey, watching his back as he disappears into the bathroom. You haven’t spoken yet, aren’t sure where to start, but being this close to Tim is the only way you think you’ll be able to deal with what you’ve been through.

When Tim returns, he has a wet cloth and a bottle of lotion. Your bags from the mall are still in Tim’s trunk, but he placed a book, a drink, and your favorite snack on the nightstand for you, so you have more than everything you need.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Tim says, standing between your legs. He sets the lotion beside you, then hooks his finger beneath your chin to lift your face.

“I was scared,” you whisper. “But when you got there, I knew everything would be okay.”

Tim nods, frowning as he observes the bruise on your forehead and the redness of your neck. He dabs the cool washcloth against your injuries, then gently wipes the rest of your face. When he’s content and convinced that you're comfortable, he steps away to put the cloth in the sink, but he’s back at your side in mere seconds.

Tim helps you get comfortable in his bed, reclined against pillows with everything you need in reach. He picks up the lotion as he joins you in bed, passing you the remote. After you turn on your favorite movie, Tim takes your hand. He squeezes a drop of your favorite lotion into your palm, closes the tube against his leg, and rubs his thumb over your palm, spreading the lotion with a relaxing pressure and his usual reverence. He uses both hands to massage you, moving the lotion down your fingers as you relax beside him. Every second he touches you is calming, and you’d be content to stay here forever, you think.

“Thank you,” you say as he finishes with your other hand.

“I should have answered the phone,” he replies. “I’ll answer next time.”

“It’s not your fault, Tim. You saved me. That’s more than I’d ever ask for.”

“You’re going to be okay?”

“I am,” you assure him. “Mostly because you’re here, and I’m not alone.”

Tim smiles, kisses your hand, and invites you to recline against his side. Comfortable under his arm, you can feel his heart beating as he drags his fingers up and down your arm.

“You’ll never be alone,” he promises. “Everything and everyone that you face… your enemies have to contend with me, and I’ll never be far. I won’t miss another call.”

“I love you,” you say, turning your face toward his. “I love you so much, Tim.”

“I love you,” he promises, kissing you gently as he tugs you impossibly closer.

You might be Tim’s princess, but he will always be more than a prince. He’s a knight, a protecter, a pamperer, and that's just the surface of who he is. He’s yours, he’s the love of your life, he’s a constant, and you will be by his side no matter what.

“I was going to buy you a gift,” you murmur, “but something came up.”

“Gifts are my job,” Tim argues. “Besides, this is more than enough for me.”

You chuckle, then pull Tim’s shoulder. He understands what you’re inviting him to do, and he slides down in the bed to hook his arm around your waist and rest his head on your chest.

“Angela wants to know when you’re up to meeting everyone,” Tim says against your sternum, growing heavier against you as you run your nails along his back.

“I was always ready,” you remind him.

“You met Lucy today, that’s enough for now.”

“Whatever you say.”

Tim slides his hands along your waist as he reaches up to kiss your jaw, then he relaxes again, and your memories of being scared disappear as you find comfort in Tim Bradford, growing happier each day you are lucky enough to be his princess.

[how2forgive]

critical engagement and sincerity have not DISAPPEARED or anything but i do think the rise n dominance of short-form content has shifted the way we communicate and how we interact w art and media..the algorithm pushes n rewards a certain way of speaking and thinking, aka bite-sized and accessible. and if talking from your rolodex of go-to phrases or being braindead is the thing that keeps you in this positive feedback loop, then why stop. youre conditioned to not be earnest, or strange or difficult or longer than 280 characters. youll get thousands of likes for it. also im not against a good meme or anything honestly i think memes are like a connective tissue in internet culture and i actually think thats a beautiful thing.. but its when all your posts , thoughts , content are catered for an audience or popularity.. i feel like people become out of touch with their personal reactions or actual complex and nuanced feelings and discouraged from expressing them. its sad!

[acowardinmordor]

I kinda want a fic where Eddie is straight. Strong Ally, totally safe, but the guy is straight. There's a few months after they successfully take down Vecna that he and Robin and Steve are all besties, living in each others' pockets. During that time, he makes a lot of jokes that Steve is going to make a great housewife someday, makes some comments that aren't quite jokes that he wishes Steve was a girl, and has some very much suppressed thoughts that the only thing stopping them is that Eddie isn't attracted to men.

Near the end of the summer, before Steve is going to follow Robin to Sarah Lawrence, Steve comes out as bi to the whole group, and Eddie, for the first time, unashamedly thinks, damn, if only I wasn't straight. Steve even gets brave a few days before they leave and broaches the topic of Steve having a crush on Eddie. Keeps saying that he's not going to hit on Eddie, but wanted to take the chance, just in case Eddie had ever thought about it.

"Sorry, Steve, I only date girls."

And the awkwardness isn't the only reason the three drift apart, but it doesn't help. They send letters and post cards between Chicago and New York, and try to call at least once a month, but they're all broke, and long distance is expensive. Two years out, and Eddie knows something weird is happening with Steve and Robin, but they don't want to talk about it. They still talk, they're still friends, they'd still die for each other, but there is something they're hiding from him. Three and a half years out, and the bureaucrats finally got their act together. 'Thanks for not telling anybody' checks get sent to everyone in the know. Very large checks.

Robin graduates, and she and Stevie have a comfortable cushion. They don't have to take horrible minimum wage jobs anymore, and some expensive things they've been saving up to do for a while can finally happen.

This is where the fic in my head actually starts.

Eddie hears all about Los Angeles from Robin, but she tells him that Stevie isn't feeling great after the trip, and that Eddie will get a letter soon.

Its four months later, almost exactly four years since the three last saw each other in person when they finally meet again. Robin got a job in Chicago, and Eddie is still there, now a full artist in a tattoo parlor, playing gigs for fun with random friends. Stevie, of course, follows Robin, and Eddie tries hard not to stay upset with the guy for the weirdness and the sometimes silence, and the very obvious distance that Steve put between them recently.

Then they see each other. Meeting up at what has to be the queerest bar in the city, and it takes Eddie way, way too long to put together what's waiting at a booth along the wall. He's an ally, he's heard all the terms and types and nodded along in supportive silence because he doesn't get it, but he's trying.

But there's Robin, sitting on the outside, with a brunette beside her, possibly the most beautiful woman Eddie has ever seen, strong, tall, long wavy chestnut hair, and a spattering of very distinct moles. The little bit of a smile she has when Eddie first comes over melts into something small and scared as Eddie stares in shock. It's Stevie, it has to be, and Robin's exclusive use of what was once only a nickname suddenly makes more sense. He knows he needs to make sure he's using the right name, pronouns, whatever she wants. He's friend of a friend with a couple trans people, and again, he doesn't get it, but he listened, and he cannot fuck this up, because it's Stevie and this must be what they were hiding, but the inside of his brain sounds like an endless loop of mic feedback for a solid sixty seconds.

Sixty seconds is an insanely long time.

Before his brain turns over and he can smile and reach the table, Stevie has shrunk into the corner, and Robin looks ready to launch herself at Eddie's throat in her soulmate's defense.

A whole list of intrusive thoughts hit Eddie all at once while his mouth runs on autopilot, asking the right questions, smiling encouragingly, introducing himself to, yes, Stevie Harrington, and dragging the mood to a happy place by sheer force of will. Stevie starts to uncurl, smiles a little brighter, sits up straight, laughs properly at Eddie's dumb stories about terrible tattoos, and leans closer as the night goes on.

He fixes the weirdness he started in his shock, because there is no way in hell he's not going to keep two of his best friends now that they live in the same city again.

But his head is stuck spiraling around a snarl of horrible, selfish, invasive thoughts. The worst of which: Stevie is now Stevie because Eddie told her that he only liked girls. And he knows thats stupid and isn't why Stevie made this choice, and he hates himself for thinking it, but the thought is still there. That Eddie wanted so badly that she's now Stevie. Another, only slightly less horrible thought, is that the immediate fairytale ending he imagined on first sight - might be ruined because Eddie is still straight, and he's just not sure about, you know, the details.

Eddie did a great job that first night, and they're back to hanging out all the time as soon as the last boxes are unpacked. It is not Stevie's fault that seeing her in a sports bra for the once confirmed that the payouts, the LA trip, and her new shirt size were related. It's not her fault that Eddie can't stop thinking about how hot she is.

It's absolutely not her fault that Eddie starts getting weird around her. He's trying, okay? He's trying so hard. But its weird for him. He likes her. That part he's certain of. Loves her, almost definitely. He thinks she's gorgeous, high confidence on that part too. He has a crush, but he knows, deeper than the rest, that Stevie isn't confident in herself yet. She acts it most of the time, but its under the surface, a thread of fear that she's not girl enough to count.

And Eddie has a crush. And Eddie can't tell her. Because Eddie won't put them in a situation where Stevie's pants come off, and Eddie suddenly can't see her as the woman she is. It would hurt Stevie so bad, and Eddie would never forgive himself.

It's not like he can ask her just how much surgery she got in LA so he can prepare. And honestly, he's not sure it would matter one way or the other. He's terrified that whatever her choice, Eddie will fuck up his reaction. The risk is unsolvable. Robin calls him out on his crush two months later, and since the other choice is even worse, Eddie lies, and says she's wrong. No crush. Nope. Not even a tiny one.

Eddie tries to will himself into becoming bisexual for an entire month, going so far as making out with a very feminine twink at a club - he thought he'd ease his way into this - but he's still decidedly straight. Rubbing against the twink's remarkably small dick wasn't repulsive, but it didn't do anything for him either. Sure, he learns there's all kinds of pleasurable things to try that he didn't know about, but he's still not into anyone but girls.

(I don't know if this is the right resolution bc Ive spun Eddie pretty tight here, but this is getting so long. )

Robin's girlfriend has a party at a gay bar for her birthday. Obviously, Eddie and Stevie are invited, and obviously, just like every other day on this earth, Stevie looks incredible. She has a sparkly dress and tall boots and glitter on her collarbones and Eddie wants to lick her. His lovelorn staring only gets worse as the night goes on. Stevie is dancing, and Eddie is drinking at the bar with a collection of purses and carabiners of keys slung around and clipped to him. It's obvious enough that a gay couple - Nick and Chris - starts teasing him about it, telling him to man up and ask the pretty girl to dance already.

Eddie is too drunk for this, and he for sure has a guilt trip later for it, but he just starts talking. All of his fears and all of his love, and how he can't ever say anything because he's tried, and he's straight anyway, and he loves Stevie too much to hurt her like that. It's an entire miracle that Eddie broke down in front of a decent pair of human beings, and not some assholes. They sweep him off to a quieter corner outside, help him calm down as he smokes, and feed him some fries.

Eddie is still wearing purses like bandoliers, is snotty and red eyed, is on his third cigarette and fourth whiskey, and resisting the need to runaway forever when the older of the couple calls over someone named Angel. A woman who, if Eddie was not hopelessly in love with Stevie, would be the source of an immediate new crush. She's older than he is, thin through the waist, thick thighs, bottle blonde hair in a ponytail, and has a few inches on Eddie with her heels. The primal part of his brain wants to climb her like a tree.

'Hi Chris. Oh, honey, you having a rough night?" Angel has a few words with Chris, then grins like the cat who caught the canary.

'You're gonna be my good karma for the month, cutie. You are attracted to me, no don't try, thats a cute blush but I can still see it behind your hair, you are. You're straight, right? Yeah, that's why you think I'm hot. Hey, Chris? Do you think I'm hot?"

"Not at all, babe. You know I only go for men."

Angel turns back to Eddie and leans close to explain. 'Chris is a bit of a man whore. Loooooves dick. Don't worry, he says it all the time. Favorite thing in the world, and I've heard he's great at sucking dick. Tragically, I never get to find out, because I'm not a guy.' She pushes the word a little. Then she steps even closer so she's pressed against his side.

Arousal sweeps through him because in love with Stevie or not, Angel is hot as hell. 'Wanna go fool around in the bathroom?' she whispers

Eddie is definitely tempted, already nodding, but doesn't get to speak. Angel rolls her hips. He feels -- A new bolt of arousal shoots down his spine. 'this change your mind at all?' Her voice drops two octaves, and Eddie's brain breaks.

Because, as it turns out, no. No, it does not change his mind. He's half hard, he still wants to climb her, and he's not entirely sure how to get her off, but he takes direction well.

'Aww, figure yourself out, already, honey? Or do you want to test run this a bit more before you go for it?' Angel is back to her real voice, a high alto. She has one hand on his chest, and Eddie can hear Nick laughing nearby. 'I won't lie, I know I won't get to keep you, but you look like we could have a real fun time as I teach you. Happy to get you trained up for her'

Eddie shakes his head, an insane mix of bubbly and numb.

'Ohhh, so you're gonna go get your girl?' She's teasing him.

Eddie nods, already moving, vaguely aware of more laughter and jokes about karma and saving lost lambs, but too fixated to listen. He's still carrying all the purses. He's not entirely sure where Stevie is in the bar. He has absolutely no idea what he's going to say when he finds her. Still not sure how to worship her properly. Extremely interested in following directions on the topic.

Eddie is still straight, but luckily, the girl of his dreams is dancing inside, and the rest of the details don't matter in the face of the possibility of finally asking her out.

When he finally chases her down at a high top with a cosmo, she laughs at how he looks, but he's never, ever seen her smile like she does when she agrees to a date with him.

--

This is sort of about a friend as they worked through realizing they weren't attracted to their wife after she transitioned, but that was sad, and this needed to not be. I guess I'm just thinking about the non-fanfic nature of life. Where it takes a guy a long while to figure himself out, because good intentions are separate from shifting how you think. Basically wanted Eddie in a situation where he has to reconcile the difference between gender and anatomy, and rewrite his own definitions of what he is and isn't attracted to. Robin had to go through a similar thing as she became attracted to Steve but only in the abstract. They're too platonic for gender to stop their bond

[authorhjk1]

Well you probably already have a list so maybe next time

Beautiful, easy access, elegant. Perfectly accurate descriptions to both the dresses and the idols who are wearing them

Just long enough that it wouldn't catch suspicion but short enough for you to...🤭

The dazzling jewellery no longer deserves your attention when they spread their legs. Proving they are always ready Did they also sponsore those toys?. A packet of lube is even meticulously hidden inside the inner layer should you really need the assistance.

Those high heels angling their butts just the right amount. Allowing deeper penetration even when standing.

The clacking noise of the heels hitting the the floor, losing balance when their legs couldn't support them (until you yank her upright against you body) triggers a positive feedback loop that taps into your most carnal desire, urging you to thrust deeper and harder.

Well probably don't reply to this ask since this ask is way too long 😂 If you ever want to do something with this I recommend creating a new post instead

Cream

(An Yujin X Jang Wonyoung X Male Reader)

You hear someone walk towards you, the clicking of their heels echoing through the hallway.

You didn't expect her to come. But then again, she doesn't really have a choice. An Yujin rounds the corner, her angry glare is directed at you.

"Swear to me that this is a one time thing."

You shrug your shoulders.

"Depends on how well you do."

"I..."

Yujin seems to slowly accept her fate.

"Fine."

"Let me see it."

You can't really hide your curiosity. You told her to wear it, but she didn't send you a picture as proof, like she was supposed to.

With an annoyed sigh, Yujin turns her back to you. You marvel at how beautiful she looks in that dress.

A heavy breath and Yujin pulls her dress to the side. You're greeted with the sight of her butt. Her round cheeks hide something between them. When Yujin pulls them apart, you can see the metal buttplug you told her to buy and wear.

"I-I don't want to do this."

Yujin turns back around to face you, letting her dress fall in place again.

"You don't have a choice Yujin."

You remind her of the pictures.

"Is there really no other way? I-I could give you something. Anything you want. Money, or..."

There is not enough money in the world to match the chance of experiencing the tightness of Yujin's ass. But there is something else...

"Or maybe house, or a car, or..."

"Your members."

"Huh? W-What?"

Yujin looks at you with wide open eyes.

"Convince Wonyoung to suck me off. Or I fuck your ass."

You watch her inner conflict. This is an impossible choice for her. Yujin doesn't want throw her member, her friend, under the bus. But she also doesn't want to lose her anal virgnity to some stranger.

A couple of minutes later, you hear someone walking towards you again.

"Yujin unnie, you sounded worried, are you okay? Who is that?"

Yujin takes a deep breath and you can tell she is almost about to cry.

"Wonyoung, can you do something for me? He... He has pictures of me. Bad pictures. If you... If you just..."

Yujin takes a shakey breath.

"What pictures?"

"Doesn't matter."

Yujjn's cheeks turn red with shame.

"He said he is going to publish them, if you don't..."

She looks at your crotch. Wonyoung, very slowly, follows her stare.

"N-No, I couldn't! I don't even know him!"

"P-Please, Wonyoung. D-Do it for me?"

Yujin sounds as desperate as she looks.

"It's... It's a blowjob."

She swallows hard, before looking at your face.

"Right? Nothing more."

You nod and Wonyoung looks at both of you.

"Is this a prank? I don't..."

You are aware that Yujin left out the fact that there is an alternative. But you don't mind which of the two you get to use.

"Fine. I will do it, then."

Once Wonyoung agrees, you motion her towards you. You can't believe you're actually going to be inside this pretty little mouth of hers.

You push her to her knees and rid yourself off your pants. Wonyoung's eyes grow wide in fear as she sees your cock. It's bigger than she expected. She never actually...

She takes a deep breath and parts her lips. As they touch your cock, Yujin turns away.

"Oh my god."

You hear her sob, as the younger girl wraps her fingers around your base.

"Good girl."

You praise Wonyoung, putting your hand on the tie in her hair. She looks up at you, the disgust on her face is barely visible with your cock in her mouth.

"If you don't act like you like it..."

You let the thread hang in the air as you take out your phone.

Thinking that you're about to release her leader's pictures, Wonyoung starts to get into it. Or at least she pretends to.

Her lips quickly glide along your length. She moves her head back and forth. Wonyoung can only reach the halfway mark, before she chokes. You push her a little further everytime.

You can't believe that this beautiful woman is giving you head. That beautiful face. Those beautiful lips.

The shutter of your phone camera makes both of them look at you.

"What..."

Wonyoung lets your cock fall out of her mouth as she looks up at you with wide eyes.

"What are you doing?"

Yujjn's angry and surprised tone makes you chuckle.

"What? This is how we ended up here in the first place, didn't we?"

With your hand still on the back of her head, you pull Wonyoung back onto your cock. You hear her choke as you talk again.

"If you don't want me to release the picture of your bandmate, sucking my cock, I suggest you get that pretty ass over here."

Yujin's eyes widen in realization.

"Y-You planned this!"

It took a while, but now you've pulled the buttplug out of Yujin's asshole. Wonyoung is still in the room, unable to look away as you press Yujin against the wall.

"Time to make you mine."

Yujin shudders at your words.

You slowly push into her. The lube, you told her to bring, helps, but it's not exactly easy. But eventually, you part Yujin's walls enough, so you can fuck her properly. Not very fast and hard, but still...

A feeling of a lifetime.

Yujin sighs and groans in pain, whenever you push into her. And an embarrassed moan escapes her lips, whenever you pull out. You feel like you're in heaven. Her ring of muscles clings onto you while you slide in and out of her. Her sparkling heels put her ass in the right height and angle for you, to drive yourself as deep as possible into her hole.

Eventually though, Yujin's asshole is too tight for you to fight off your incoming orgasm.

"Come here, Wonyoung."

You make both girls kneel in front of you as you stroke yourself. Both of their faces are enough to make you climax within seconds. Your cum hits their faces, staining their skin and ruining their makeup. A string of your cum hit Yujin's eye, gluing it shut, while half of Wonyoung's share lands on her cute nose.

The sound of your phone's camera makes both of them shiver in fear.

"What's the password for Ive's official Instagram account?"

[bl3upi3]

Something About Hollis

Check out part 2

Summary: While in New York for a Miu Miu campaign, rising artist Y/N shares a spontaneous beat on her Instagram story catching the attention of underground favorite 2Hollis. What starts as a simple DM turns into an unexpected late-night call.

A/N: Short 2Hollis one-shot. Not sure if I’m gonna turn it into a full fic or a series yet.

You’ve been a music artist on the scene for about two years now, blowing up thanks to TikTok. You’ve been making music for as long as you can remember, starting with the basics like piano and guitar. But when you discovered the underground scene, you wanted your music to be more creative, more experimental. You had some monthly listeners, but you really blew up about a year ago after that feature with Jane Remover.

Jane found you and your music really interesting. Your lyrics were meaningful, and your art felt genuinely beautiful. She discovered you by chance, stumbling across one of your TikToks and reached out wanting to collaborate. It changed everything for you: more recognition, more listeners, and now a solid fanbase.

Recently, you opened for one of Charli XCX’s concerts, and that’s when everything really changed. You had to get a real manager because so many companies and artists wanted to collaborate with you. It was overwhelming at first. You still played in underground clubs sometimes, even for free it was a strategic move, keeping your roots while navigating the industry.

One day, while you're in New York City for a Miu Miu shoot for their latest campaign, you post a messy beat on your Instagram story, just something to entertain your fans while you wait for the makeup artist to finish. Out of curiosity, you start checking the replies for feedback. That’s when you notice a DM from a verified account: “this goes stupid. u tryna build on it?” You check the @ it’s from 2Hollis. You pause, squint at the name, and realize you’ve seen it before in some TikTok comment section.

Isn’t that the guy all the girls have been talking about lately? Something like, “my white tiger” type shit? you think to yourself.

You turn to the makeup artist.

“Do you know 2Hollis?” you ask.

She pauses, brush in hand, then raises her eyebrows.

“Obviously. Who doesn’t? He’s like, TikTok’s favorite sadboy.”

You hum, glancing back at the DM. You didn’t expect him to reach out.

You tap out a reply without overthinking it: “yeah sure. u got something in mind?”

You lock your phone and lean back in the chair as the makeup artist starts on your eyeliner. But your mind’s somewhere else now half curious, half suspicious. You’ve seen artists reach out before just to ride a wave. But something about the way he worded it felt casual, unbothered. Like he wasn’t chasing anything.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

“i got this loop i’ve been sitting on. think you’d sound crazy on it. can i send?”

You unlock your phone again, typing back: “send it.”

Not even thirty seconds later, there’s a Dropbox link sitting in your inbox. You throw your AirPods in and press play, eyes half-lidded as the track builds. It’s glitchy, dark, and oddly soft around the edges like it's falling apart on purpose. The drums stutter in weird places, the synths warped just enough to feel like a memory.

Huh. He’s good.

You listen to it again. And again. By the third play, you’ve already opened your voice notes app and started humming something over the chorus.

You don’t even bother being formal. You shoot him a voice memo: “okay wait. this is actually sick. let me sketch something out tonight.”

You expect him to leave you on seen or at least take a while to respond. Instead, it’s instant: “bet. i’m around if you wanna hop on a call.”

Call? You stare at your phone like it’s got a second head. No one calls anymore. Especially not for music stuff not unless they’re old school or serious.

You stare at the message, thumb hovering over your screen. A call? In the middle of a Miu Miu campaign shoot? Not happening.

“i’m not available right now but tonight if that’s okay w you,” you reply.

“yeah cool. i’ll be around.”

You put your phone face-down on the vanity and exhale. The makeup artist’s almost done now, dusting shimmer along your cheekbones like she’s painting armor. But your head’s buzzing not with fashion, not with flashing cameras, but with that loop. 

Later that night, when the shoot's wrapped and your heels are finally off, you're sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed with your laptop open and mic set up beside you. You press record and start sketching layering in harmonies, mumbling half-finished lyrics that don’t make sense yet but feel right.

There’s something easy about the track. Like it’s pulling something out of you you didn’t realize was there.

At 11:12 PM, you send him a rough snippet. Nothing too polished just enough to show you’re taking it seriously.

Not even five minutes later, your phone rings.

You hesitate for a second, then swipe to answer.

“Yo,” his voice comes through, low and a little grainy. Background noise filters in too, someone laughing, the faint hum of music, the unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking.

“Hey,” you say, settling back into your pillows.“Didn’t expect you to actually call this fast.”

“Didn’t expect you to actually send something this good,” he shoots back, smooth but not in a fake way. “You sound fire on it already.”

You hear another voice in the background deeper, louder.

“Tell her it’s the loop of the year!” someone yells, clearly not knowing or caring that you’re on the line.

Hollis sighs. “Ignore him. That’s Roman. He thinks everything I make is ‘loop of the year.’”

You smirk. “Right. You got a whole committee back there or something?”

Another voice chimes in, this one cooler, more deadpan. “Nah, just a couple of degenerates with good ears. You’re talking to Conceal, by the way.”

“Hi… Conceal,” you say, unsure if you're supposed to know him.

Hollis cuts back in. “Anyway. I meant to say  I’ve actually been keeping an eye on your stuff for a while.”

That catches you off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Think the first thing I heard was that Jane track. Someone had posted a clip of it on Twitter. Then I checked your page and you were just… making weird, beautiful shit. Real different. It stuck with me.”

You pause, fingers brushing over the edge of your laptop. There’s a lot of fake praise in the industry. Hollow compliments dressed in lowercase cool. But he doesn’t sound like he’s selling you anything.

“I figured you probably had no idea who I was,” he adds, and there’s a little laugh in his voice now. “Which, honestly, kinda made me want to reach out more.”

“I’d heard of you,” you admit. “TikTok girls were thirsting over you.”

You hear Roman immediately burst out laughing in the background. “Let’s goooo! She clocked you, bro.”

Hollis groans. “Please. Don’t feed into that.”

“You are kind of infamous,” you tease, letting the corner of your mouth curve into a smirk. “Some of those edits are crazy. Like…”

“Jesus Christ,” Hollis mutters. “I swear I just breathe and someone turns it into a fan cam.”

“Sounds exhausting,” you say, not entirely sarcastic.

“It is,” he replies. Then softer, “But the music’s what matters. Everything else is noise.”

There’s a small silence between you, like a low tide pulling back.

You glance at the track still open on your laptop. “Well, for what it’s worth… I get it. That loop? It’s not just cool. It feels like something. Like you meant it.”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. Then: “I did.”

In the background, Conceal says, way too casually, “This whole phone call feels like a slow-burn A24 scene.”

You laugh out loud, sharp and real. “Okay, who are you guys?”

“Artists,” Roman replies. “Annoying ones. But artists.”

You lean back into your pillows again, voice softer now. “Cool. Well… I’m glad you reached out.”

“Me too,” Hollis says. Then: “You free tomorrow?”

“No,” you say, stretching your legs out on the bed. “I’m kind of busy with that whole Fashion Week stuff.”

“Ohhh, Fashion Week,” Roman says, dragging it out like a tease. “She’s fancy.”

“So you also a model?” Hollis asks, voice curious but not mocking.

You roll your eyes, even though no one can see it. “Not exactly. Brands just like putting me in weird clothes and calling it a vision.”

“Sounds like modeling,” Conceal mutters.

You shrug. “I guess. I just show up, wear the fits, smile like I know what I’m doing, and pray I don’t trip on the runway.”

“That’s real artistry,” Roman deadpans.

You laugh. “Yeah, I’m basically couture’s clown.”

“Nah,” Hollis says, and his tone shifts just slightly. “You’re kind of everywhere right now. Music, fashion, all of it. But it doesn’t feel… fake. You still sound like yourself.”

That hits unexpectedly deep. You blink, caught off guard by how sincere it sounds.

“Thanks,” you say, quieter. “I try.”

There’s a pause, like the air just got a little thicker.

“Alright,” Hollis says, breaking it gently, “then we’ll figure it out. When you’re done being New York’s most stylish menace, pull up to the studio. No pressure.”

You smile to yourself, biting your lip a little. “Yeah. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Cool,” he says. “Sleep well, superstar.”

The call ends, but your phone stays in your hand a moment longer.

[pendulouspuppyudders]

it's so crazy that like.. i started this journey inspired by other people, mostly just to heal myself. i suffered from such a bad eating disorder and such bad dysmorphia but when i found fat tgirls shamelessly loving themselves and encouraging other girls to do the same i started to slowly get the realization that i could get there too. it felt kinda shameful at first cuz id always been skinny and i really felt like i was intruding on a space i didn't belong in but at the same time there'd always been a little part of me that did not like being skinny, i was only scared of what people might think of me if i wasn't. and once i shed that false obligation to bigots around me i got to eat and enjoy eating for the first time ever, i got to enjoy my body like i hadn't since id gotten on hrt, this entire journey has been just endless steps of me unlearning all the lies ive been told about my body and trying to slowly improve myself, and i posted a lot abt it but i felt like it was mostly a me thing. the girls that'd inspired me largely weren't interested in being like some kind of fat icon or anything which make sense they were just loving themselves, and i was trying to do much of the same. but honestly as more and more people have seen me gaining weight, basically seeing me blossom into the woman i've always wanted to be, more of them are saying that im inspiring them to do what ive done, or inspiring them to respect and love their bodies like i had to learn to do and idk.. i can't help but feel like the world is a little bit brighter, everything just gets a little bit softer and happier in my life. its turned into such a positive feedback loop where the people who look up to me reinforce my knowledge that this is good, that my goals for my body are beautiful and the way i exist now is beautiful and it motivates me to be louder and happier and more proud which just seems to attract more people it's the most wonderful thing in the world. girls getting bigger is the most wonderful thing i've ever been a part of im just so honored to be a fat girl and encourage other fat girls were what holds the world together

[augustjoy]

Three’s Company

This is just a lil blurb about Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan and you being in love! Based on the following Request: @satans-bitch Hi! Idk if you would be comfortable writing it, but I love the idea of Aaron hotchner x reader x Derek Morgan just all being so in love with each other. Thank u Xx – I took some creative liberties…I hope you like it!

Hotch x BAU! Fem Reader x Morgan

Word count: 883

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, Fem reader, pet names, poly-relationship (I’m not the most familiar with this lifestyle) canon typical violence, mantion of babies and pregnancy, Let me know if I missed any.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

So, neither Derek nor Aaron ever and I mean EVER thought they’d be in a polyamorous relationship. But let me tell you, when you arrived at the BAU, they both knew they had to have you. Aaron had gone to Dave time and time again seeking advice and Derek did the same with Penelope.

They’d both complain that there was no way you were interested, because clearly you like the other guy. Only, that wasn’t quite the issue.

You didn’t just like Aaron or Derek, you liked them both. They were so similar and yet so different and there was no way you could ever choose just one of them.

After many instances of the men fighting for your attention and affection, you pulled them both aside to have a serious conversation.

“I think I should leave the BAU.” You stated.

“What? No!” Derek blurted.

“Why would you think that?” Aaron inquired. “If our behavior has made you uncomfortable, I am so sorry. It was never my intention, and I would hate to see such a talented agent leave because of my idiocy.”

“It’s not your guy’s behavior that’s making me feel this way. It’s my feelings for you.” You said, gesturing to both men.

“Feelings for who?” Derek questioned.

“Both of you.” You blushed.

That evening you’d explained to the men that you had feelings for both of them and had the situation been different you’d have suggested a poly relationship, but you knew that it was too much to ask of two alpha males who’d never been in one before.

What you hadn’t expected to happen was for them to give you a quizzical look and then ask you to give them some time to think about it.

--

It had been nearly a year since then and the three of you had developed something truly beautiful. Aaron had been so stoic at work but at home he was soft, and he always did everything in his power to ensure you and Derek were both cared for.

And well Derek, he was clingy at home. Always wanting his hands on you and he’d come to really enjoy having physical contact with Aaron.

Like when you’d watch a movie, Aaron would have his arm slung over the back of the couch while you cuddled up into his side, and Derek would be sitting as close to you as possible, practically sitting you in his lap. This position would allow for Aaron’s hand to rest around Derek as well and that warmth became a comfort for him.

There had been another shift shortly after that, pet names…they’d been slipping out more frequently. And not just them men using them with you either.

“Sweetheart can you pass me my phone?” Aaron had asked, looking directly at Derek.

“Sure thing sugar.” Derek had replied.

You had been shocked initially, but it ultimately had warmed your heart to see them falling into this relationship more and more. Their comfort in this had been your main priority, you hadn’t cared about anything else.

--

Work had been the toughest part of this newfound dynamic. When any of you got hurt on a case, the other two couldn’t exactly hold it together. And with the team being out of the loop of your lifestyle, well they definitely suspected something.

The most recent had been Aaron, he had been shot while taking down an unsub. Thankfully it had been a flesh wound, but when you heard the shot and saw him go down, you couldn’t help the wail that tore through you. The paramedics had requested you step away, and Derek pulled you into his embrace to get you to comply.

“Baby he’s gonna be okay!” Derek said while holding you close.

“He was shot D! What if he’s not?” You cried.

“I know he’s gonna be okay baby. He has to be.” Derek mumbled the last part.

You looked up to see the tears falling from his misty eyes, and you held him tighter. The team sat by and watched the situation play out, fully convinced now that something was transpiring between the three of you. More than they had initially assumed.

--

The newest development had been the discussion of children. The guys had baby fever, they had seen you interacting with your sister’s newborn and you swear you saw them both drooling over the sight of you.

So…have you ever thought about having kids princess?” Derek posed.

Currently you were lying on the couch, your head in Derek’s lap and him pressed against Aaron. The movie playing, long forgotten as Derek combed his fingers through your hair and Aaron traced shapes on Derek’s bicep.

“Um, yes…I have thought about it. Why do you ask?” You sat up.

“Well, honey, we had a conversation about it the other day.” Aaron clarified.

“You two…had a conversation about me having a baby?” You questioned.

“About us…having a baby.” Derek said, gesturing to the three of you.

Your jaw dropped in shock. What had started as inappropriate flirting in the workplace had developed into a serious relationship between the three of you. One fueled by love, safety, and trust.

“I would love to have a baby with you guys.” You smiled. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

[wongyuseokie]

Theories & Heartstrings | k.m.g

Chapter 5: Forever Bonsai 'ed & Epilogue

Summary: As a writer with a mildly cynical take on love, you’ve always believed people have a “type”—a pattern they never stray from when it comes to dating. And Kim Mingyu? He’s the textbook definition of someone who wouldn’t go for someone like you, nor would you go for him. But you test your theory when a fateful run-in with your charming neighbour sparks an unexpected attraction.

The plan? Go on dates with him and count how many it takes before your heart gets involved—if it ever does. But Mingyu is unpredictable, effortlessly breaking down your carefully constructed walls with every smile, every late-night conversation, every moment that feels too easy to be just an experiment.

The real problem? Secrets never stay secrets for long. And when Mingyu finds out the truth behind your so-called theory, will it prove you right, or that love doesn’t follow the rules you thought it did?

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut

Word Count: 7782

Pairings: Neighbor! Mingyu x Journalist! Female Reader

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Neighbours AU! Fake Dating AU! (but only one is fake dating. It’ll make sense when you read it, lol). Non-Idol AU!. 

Content Warnings: lots of emotions yn being a sad sap but its very much warranted, its soft actually lots of growing up. yn’s parents are the best and wonu is being a snappy little shit, bonsai’s ig are some sort of hazardous plant in this story, very wholesome and soft moments between the two. tension between wonwoo and yn and not the good kind but it heals over time.  Smut Warnings: mingyu being a horndog but who can blame him, they both are horndogs, unprotected sex, very longing and deep sex idk? praise, and big dick! mingyu because ofc. slight edging, soft aftercare, cumming inside, oral sex (female recieving) cum licking. fingering.  Author's Note 1: I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lovely people who helped beta this monster of a story. thank you @lovetaroandtaemin @nebulousbrainsoup @strxwberry-skiess for your patience time and love thank you guys so much!! Author's Note 2: welp and with that! this series is done, thank you all so much to those who read, and gave me feedback, or yelled all of it was so appreciated, what a beautiful way to end my time here on tumblr, thank you all so much 🩷 🩷 🩷 🩷 🩷 🩷 (don't worry I'll still come here time to time maybe reblog gifs or something, but as for writing, I'm closing that book for now--see what i did there? HAHAH) Series Masterlist

The following morning, you wake up tangled in your sheets, the weight of everything sitting heavy in your chest. The apartment is too quiet, but your thoughts are louder than ever. Last night plays in loops—every word, every silence, every look that said too much and not enough.

You sit up slowly, rubbing your face. Your eyes sting. The air feels too still.

Without thinking too hard, you start packing a small overnight bag. Just a few essentials. A charger. Your journal. Something that smells like home.

It’s not an escape. It’s a pause.

You lock the door behind you and exhale, hoping it’s the first breath of many that finally feels clear.

When you finally emerged from your room, Joshua and Wonwoo were at the kitchen table, finishing breakfast. Joshua looked surprised to see you up and about. “Hey. Where are you going?”

You hesitated, shifting the duffle bag on your shoulder. “Home. To my parents’ place.”

Joshua’s brows knitted together. “Wait, for good?”

You shook your head. “Just for a while. I need some space... to think.”

Wonwoo glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Running away from your problems? Smart,” he muttered.

Joshua shot him a warning glare. “Wonwoo.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m not running away. I just... I miss them. I think I need a break from the city. From... everything.”

Joshua’s face softened. “How long will you be gone?”

You shrugged. “A couple of weeks, maybe. I have some annual leave saved up. I’ll figure it out.”

Joshua looked like he wanted to offer you a ride, but you shook your head. “It’s fine. I’ll take a cab to the station.”

As you reached the door, Joshua suddenly pulled you into a tight hug. “Text us when you get there?”

You nodded against his shoulder. “Yeah, I will.”

Wonwoo remained in his seat, his jaw clenched. “Not me. I couldn’t care less.”

The sting of his words made you wince, but you just nodded and slipped out the door before your emotions could betray you.

~~ 

As you waited in the lobby for your cab, tapping aimlessly on your phone screen, you heard someone behind you.

“Y/N?”

You turned—and of course, Mingyu. Tall, messy-haired, slightly out of breath like he’d rushed to catch you.

Why was everyone awake and functioning on a Sunday morning?

“Where are you going?” He asked, eyes narrowing at your bag.

“Uh… home.” You gave a small shrug.

“Wait—for good?”

You shook your head. “No. Just for a while.”

He looked at you for a long beat. “Why?”

You hesitated. “I think… I just need to get out of everyone’s way for a bit. I’ve been making a mess of things.”

Mingyu frowned. “Did something happen with the guys?”

“No. It’s not them. It’s me.” You pressed your lips together. “I’ve been a bit of a baby. I just… keep screwing things up and then wondering why no one’s patient.”

“That’s not true,” Mingyu said quietly. “You just... have a habit of realising things when it’s already too late.”

You nodded, eyes stinging.

“How are you?” You asked, just to change the subject.

“I’ve been better.” He smiled faintly. “But I’ve also been worse.”

“Can’t get a cab,” you said, staring at your phone.

“I’ll drop you.”

“Mingyu, you don’t have to—”

“Let me. It’d make me feel better knowing you got to the station okay.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hesitating. “Can I blackmail you with the fact that you’ve broken my heart twice now?”

He let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

You didn’t say anything else as he drove, except for the occasional sniffle that betrayed you.

“Is it cold?” He asked gently.

You shook your head.

“When’s your train?”

“1:30.”

“Perfect.” He pulled over and turned to look at you. “Y/N. Look at me.”

You didn’t.

“I know you’re crying.”

You finally glanced his way.

“You look like Rudolph,” he said, reaching up to wipe at your cheek. “You really want your parents thinking I’m the one who made you cry?”

You cracked the smallest smile. “They’d believe it.”

“Y/N,” he said again, voice quieter now. “You don’t have to apologise for everything.”

“But I should,” you whispered. “The bonsai, the article, the whole ‘I love you—wait, never mind’ thing.”

“I’m not mad,” Mingyu said, squeezing your hand. “A little hurt? Yeah. But it’ll pass.”

You didn’t trust yourself to answer, so you just nodded.

He parked the car and got out before you could argue, grabbing your bag and walking ahead like it was just the natural next step. You followed silently, letting him lead you to the platform.

“Lovely couple,” an old lady said as she passed, her voice kind and lilting.

“Thank you,” Mingyu answered automatically.

You blinked at him. “Why didn’t you correct her?”

He shrugged. “She seemed happy thinking that. Why ruin it?”

You were quiet for a moment. “You know she’s right, though. I will see you again.”

“Then stop crying so much.”

You smiled, even through the new wave of tears. “I’m glad I’m crying here. It’s poetic.”

He laughed, hand slipping into yours.

“I’ll pick you up from here when you’re ready,” he said. “Just let me know.”

You bit your lip. “Can I ask you for something selfish?”

“Anything.”

“Can you stay with me? Just until the train comes?”

“I wasn’t going to leave.”

You leaned into his side, letting his arm curl around you. The silence was warm this time.

“You’re not running again, right?” He murmured.

You tilted your head. “Wouldn’t it be easier?”

“Maybe.” His thumb stroked your shoulder gently. “But it would suck.”

“Do I make you miserable?”

He didn’t answer, just held you closer. That was enough.

When the train pulled in, you stood, and he helped you with your bag. Before you could climb on, he peeled off his hoodie and placed it in your hands.

“You’ll freeze,” you said.

“My car’s right there. I have extras.”

“Why give me this one?”

“So you’ll come back.”

“I would’ve come back anyway.”

“I needed the insurance.”

You grinned.

“Sir, we need passengers who aren’t travelling to disembark in the next two minutes.”

Mingyu lingered.

“Text me when you get there,” he said. “I can pick you up. Or bring you back. Or both.”

You nodded.

“Y/N?” He said again, quieter this time.

“Yeah?”

He pulled you in for a quick kiss. “Take care, okay?”

Another kiss. One more.

Then he was gone, walking back to the platform with his hands in his pockets and a look on his face like he was holding it all together with string.

You boarded the train.

His hoodie smelled like laundry detergent and cedarwood. You wrapped yourself in it, closed your eyes, and let the city roll away behind you.

You were going home, for now. But it didn’t feel like running this time. Just a breather.

And maybe that was enough.

~~

You didn’t even realise how badly you needed to be home until you were wrapped in your mother’s arms. The second she opened the door, all the strength you had been trying to muster crumbled into a flood of tears. Your mother held you tightly, whispering reassurances even though she had no idea why you were crying.

You buried your face into her shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of lavender from her cardigan. “I missed you,” you choked out, voice muffled.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Come inside. You’ll feel better once you’re settled,” she cooed, guiding you through the threshold.

As you made your way to your room, you caught sight of your dad, hunched over the dining table, scribbling into his crossword book. “Hi, stranger,” you called out, voice strained but attempting cheerfulness.

Your father looked up, eyes widening. “Y/N!” He jumped to his feet, wrapping you in a bear hug. “Who do I need to beat up for making my daughter cry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh through the tears. “No one, Dad. I just... I missed you guys.”

Your parents exchanged a look — one of those silent conversations that couples seemed to master after years together. Your mother nodded knowingly. “Go freshen up, honey. We’ll have some food and something to drink ready for you when you’re done.”

You nodded, grateful for the space to collect yourself. As you headed down the hall to your old room, the memories hit you like a tidal wave — the posters you never took down, the bookshelf crammed with your favorite stories, and the cozy quilt your grandmother made. You sat on the edge of your bed, breathing in the nostalgia, letting it ground you.

After a long, hot shower, you felt marginally better. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you saw Mingyu’s name on the screen. You hesitated for a moment before answering.

“Hey,” you greeted softly, towelling off your hair.

“Uh, hi. You never said if you got there okay,” Mingyu’s voice was cautious, unsure.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep your voice steady. “Sorry. I got here fine. Just... cried a lot when I saw them. I guess I didn’t realise how much I needed to see my parents.”

“Yeah. That makes sense,” Mingyu murmured. There was a pause, and you could almost hear him trying to figure out what to say next. “Cool. Um, I should go. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Before you could respond, the line went dead. You stared at the phone, fighting the ache in your chest.

Later that evening, after dinner, your parents sat with you in the living room, sipping on glasses of wine. Your father nudged the bottle closer to you, raising an eyebrow. “You look like you could use this.”

You gave a weak smile, pouring yourself a glass. You took a sip, savouring the comforting burn. “It’s my fault. I messed up. I acted like an idiot,” you admitted.

Your dad shook his head. “I didn’t raise an idiot. Stop calling yourself that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t even know what happened yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. Everyone makes mistakes. Doesn’t mean you’re an idiot. Just means you’re human.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

You ended up telling them everything — from the article experiment to the fallout with Mingyu, and how your insecurities had led you to pull back when he said he was ready to love you. You left out the more intimate details, of course, but you could see the concern etched into your parents’ faces as you talked.

Your mom gave you a pointed look. “So why did you say you didn’t love him?”

You hesitated, swirling the wine in your glass. “Because I don’t. I mean... I’m not sure.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sweetie, you love him. You may not know it yet, but you do. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have worked so hard to make it happen. You wouldn’t be sitting here, crying over him.”

Your father chimed in, his tone gentler than before. “Love doesn’t always hit you like a train, kiddo. Sometimes it creeps up on you. Just because you don’t have all the answers right now doesn’t mean you’re wrong to feel what you feel.”

You sniffed, wiping at your eyes. “Wonwoo said I’m someone who can’t take accountability. He said it’s hard to be my friend sometimes.”

Your dad’s expression softened. “It’s not easy, learning how to face your own mistakes. But the fact that you’re here, reflecting on it, means you’re trying. You’ve always been sincere when it comes to fixing what you break.”

You took a shaky breath, finally admitting, “I’m just scared. Of ruining things even more. Of hurting him. I don’t know how to fix this.”

Your mother placed a gentle hand on yours. “Take your time. Don’t rush it. Sometimes the best way to make amends is to give each other space to breathe. He cares about you — that much is obvious. But you can’t force him to forgive you. You can only be honest with him when the time comes.”

You stayed with your parents for a little over a week, letting the comfort of home wrap around you like a warm blanket. You started writing again, not an article to impress anyone, but one that was true to your own story — one that was raw and honest. You didn’t hide behind metaphors or clever phrasing. You just wrote how you felt — about Mingyu, about your mistakes, and about what it meant to be vulnerable enough to love someone.

Your dad caught you writing at the dining table one morning and smiled. “Looks like my writer’s back.”

You gave him a small smile. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to face everything now.”

~~

The suitcase clicked shut with a finality that felt heavier than it should have. You stood still for a second, your fingers wrapped tightly around the handle, just listening to the quiet hum of the house.

“You packed the snacks I gave you, right?” Your mom called from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mom,” you said, smiling softly as you stepped into the doorway.

Your father looked up from the newspaper. “Train’s in an hour. You want me to drive you?”

You shook your head. “I’ll cab it. I think I need the ride to... breathe a little.”

They both came to the door to hug you goodbye. Warm, lingering squeezes that told you without words that you were always welcome to run back, no matter how old you got.

“Text us when you reach,” your mom whispered against your cheek.

You nodded, throat too tight to answer.

By the time you were standing at the platform, duffel slung over your shoulder and your coat pulled tight around you, the weight in your chest hadn’t lifted—but your spine had straightened.

Tucked under your arm, nestled carefully beside your bag, was a tiny bonsai you’d picked up from a roadside nursery near your parents’ place. You figured if you were going to start over with Mingyu, it might as well be with a little on-the-nose symbolism.

You were going back. To Seoul. To the mess. To the people you loved and sometimes hated and often didn’t understand.

You didn’t know what you’d say when you saw Mingyu.

But you were done running.

You just had to show up.

~~

When you arrived at Seoul station, you barely had time to take a breath before someone startled you from behind.

“Boo!”

You jumped, dropping the plant in your hand, and watched in horror as it landed directly on Mingyu’s foot.

He yelped, hopping on one leg. “Seriously? Bonsai assault, part two?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tears pricking your eyes. “Sorry, sorry!”

Mingyu leaned down, picking up the poor, slightly cracked plant. “You have a knack for using these as weapons.”

You smiled, wiping at your eyes. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“Of what? That you want to break my toes?”

“No,” you murmured, stepping closer. “That I’m always going to find a way back to you.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, his hand gently brushing yours. “Yeah? I could live with that.”

“Wanna grab something to eat?” Mingyu asked, falling into step beside you as you both emerged from the station.

You shook your head, tugging your cardigan tighter around you. “Actually… I was thinking of just heading home. Kinda exhausted.”

He nodded, matching your pace. “Home-home or apartment-home?”

You looked up at him. “The latter.”

Mingyu grinned. “Cool. Mind if I tag along? I’m in the mood for comfort films and questionable snack choices.”

You smirked. “I was literally about to say Disney and popcorn.”

“Well then,” he said, mock-bowing as he opened the car door, “a perfect gentleman shall escort you.”

~~

“Shua?” you called as you stepped inside the apartment, slipping your shoes off. Mingyu trailed behind you, grocery bag in hand.

He glanced around. “No one’s home?”

You poked your head into the hallway. “Double date night for them. Joshua left a note.”

Mingyu’s answering grin was all teeth. “Thank fuck.”

Before you could respond, his arms were around your thighs, lifting you off the ground with ease.

“Mingyu!” you squealed, half-laughing as he carried you toward your bedroom.

“Don’t act surprised,” he said, nudging the door shut behind him with his foot. “You know I’ve been thinking about this since the train.”

He sat down on the bed with you in his lap, one hand on your waist, the other already cradling the back of your neck as he kissed you, slow, deep, like he had all the time in the world to unravel you.

You kissed him back, melting into his hold as his hands slipped under the hoodie you were still wearing. His breath caught.

“Wait—” His fingers brushed over bare skin. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?”

You smirked. “Laundry day.”

“And no bra either?” he groaned, leaning in again, voice raspy now. “You’re trying to kill me.”

You let him kiss you once more before gently pulling back, crawling off his lap with a sheepish smile. “Gyu… wait.”

His brows lifted, but he didn’t press. “Yeah?”

“Just—can we slow down a little?”

Mingyu gave a small nod, lips still curved in a crooked grin. “Sure. I’ll behave. But I’m keeping the hoodie as emotional compensation.”

You rolled your eyes, heart thudding in that too-familiar rhythm he always managed to stir.

The room felt heavy with unsaid words and fragile hope, the kind of tension that kept your heart suspended between fear and longing. Mingyu’s hand on your thigh was warm, grounding, but the space between you was still filled with everything left unsaid. You took a breath, gathering the courage to break the silence.

“Mingyu,” you whispered, voice trembling despite your efforts to sound steady. “I know I hurt you. I know I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me, like my words didn’t mean anything. And I hate that I did that to you.”

Mingyu’s eyes softened, but his gaze remained cautious. “You can’t just say you love me after saying you don’t. You have no idea how that messed with me. One minute, I’m ready to let go and just... fall for you, and the next, it’s like you pulled the rug out from under me. You can’t do that to someone.”

You nodded, your hands trembling as you rubbed your thumb against his. “I know, and I never wanted to hurt you like that. I was just... terrified. Terrified of how much you mean to me. I didn’t think I could fall for you, not like this. We were supposed to be casual—no—strings, just fun. But then it wasn’t just fun anymore. It became real. You became real. And that scared the hell out of me.”

Mingyu’s lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers squeezing yours gently, as if testing whether he could still hold on. “You always said you didn’t believe in love — that it wasn’t something you wanted. Then, out of nowhere, you just... say it and take it back. I didn’t know how to handle that.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, blinking back tears. “When I went home, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us. I kept wondering what would happen if I never told you how I really felt — if I kept letting fear stop me from saying the one thing that’s been true for a while now. I love you, Mingyu. I love you so much that it hurts, and that’s why I was scared. Because loving you means I have something to lose. And the thought of losing you terrifies me more than anything.”

Mingyu’s eyes shimmered with unspoken emotion, his lips parting as if to say something, but he remained quiet, letting you continue.

“I went back home because I needed to figure myself out — to understand why I couldn’t just say it when I felt it. And I realised that I didn’t want to keep running from this, from you. I’ve been falling for you since the beginning, and it’s terrifying because it’s the most real thing I’ve ever felt. But I’m done being afraid. I just needed you to know that.”

Mingyu looked down at your intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he took a shaky breath. “You really love me?” He whispered, almost as if he didn’t dare believe it.

You nodded, eyes watering as you squeezed his hand tighter. “Yes. I love you. And I’m so sorry for making you doubt that.”

He pulled you into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours. “I wanted to believe you so badly, even when I was angry. I kept telling myself that maybe you just didn’t realise it at first. I was ready to say it back that night — I was so ready, but then you just... took it back.”

You could feel the pain in his voice, and it broke your heart all over again. “I was a coward. I know that. I was scared that saying it would make it real, and that real meant risking getting hurt. But being without you was worse. I’d rather risk everything than lose you.”

Mingyu closed his eyes, pulling you closer, his lips pressing against your temple. “You really don’t know how much you mean to me. Even when I tried to be angry, all I could think about was holding you. I missed you so much.”

Your hands moved to his face, cupping his cheeks as your thumbs brushed away the stray tear that slipped down. “You don’t have to forgive me right away. You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready. Just... let me show you that I mean it.”

Mingyu let out a soft, trembling laugh, his fingers threading through your hair. “You’re so damn stubborn, you know that?”

You managed a teary smile. “You love that about me.”

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of everything he was still too scared to say. When he pulled back, his eyes met yours, filled with something like hope. “We’ll take it slow, okay? I’m not ready to just jump back in and pretend everything’s okay. But... I want to try. I want us to be okay.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with a cautious joy. “That’s all I want. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

He pressed another kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips, slow and tender. “Let’s just... be here. Together. No pressure.”

You let out a soft laugh, snuggling closer to him. “That sounds perfect.”

Mingyu pulled you into his arms, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back. You felt his chest rise and fall, steady and comforting, and for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to just be — wrapped in his warmth, feeling his heartbeat against yours.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” he whispered into your hair, and you closed your eyes, savouring the moment.

As sleep tugged at you, you couldn’t help but think that this—right here, tangled up with Mingyu in the quiet of your room—was the kind of love you’d been scared of finding. And you were done running from it.

Mingyu’s fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, his lips brushing your forehead every few minutes, as if reassuring himself that you were still there. You breathed in his familiar scent, and for the first time in a long while, you felt safe — safe enough to believe that maybe love didn’t always have to end in heartbreak.

Maybe, just maybe, this time you could get it right. ~~

“Can you stop fidgeting?” Mingyu groaned later that night. He was curled up in your bed with you, his voice heavy with sleep as you wiggled around in his arms.

“I’m trying to get comfy,” you whispered, your cheeks warm from the proximity.

Mingyu pulled you closer, his arm curling protectively around your waist. “You’ve been moving for like five minutes. What’s wrong?”

You huffed, squirming a little more. “It’s the shirt. I can’t sleep with it on. I just… need to wear something else.”

Mingyu made a noise somewhere between a groan and a chuckle. “Sit up,” he mumbled sleepily.

“What?” you asked, but he didn’t bother replying. Instead, his hands found the hem of the shirt, tugging it up and over your head before tossing it to the floor. You shivered as the cool air hit your bare skin.

“There,” Mingyu muttered, tugging you back against his chest. “Better?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, feeling his warm breath on your shoulder as he pressed a soft kiss there. You couldn’t help but smile, though sleep still eluded you, especially now that your naked body was pressed against him. You could feel his heartbeat through your back, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

But you couldn’t ignore the way his half-hard cock was pressing into your lower back, especially as his arm shifted, his hand resting low on your stomach, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay still, but it was no use.

“What are you doing?” Mingyu grumbled, clearly aware of your struggle.

“I can’t sleep,” you admitted, your voice small.

He sighed dramatically. “Count sheep.”

You smacked his forearm lightly. “That’s not helping.”

“Ow!” He protested, his pout evident even without seeing his face. “It does work, you know. Smacking me definitely isn’t the solution.”

You didn’t answer, just turned in his arms and pressed your lips to his, catching him off guard. He hummed against your mouth, a low sound of surprise that melted into a soft groan when you rolled on top of him, straddling his thighs.

“Either we fuck, or I make myself cum,” you whispered, your nails tracing the outline of his cock through his boxers.

Mingyu’s breath hitched, but he shook his head. “No.”

You shot him a glare. “Then I’m using a toy.”

“Oh, no, you’re not,” Mingyu muttered, and before you knew it, his fingers were on your clit, circling with just enough pressure to make you gasp.

“Gyu—”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his hand sliding down to grip your thigh. “You don’t need toys when I can take care of you so much better.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he moved faster, his hands guiding your hips to line up with his. He pushed his boxers down enough to free himself, and you shivered when his cock brushed against your wet folds.

“I need you,” you whispered, shifting your hips to let him slide inside. He moaned low and rough, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he groaned, his breath shaky as he sank deeper. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You moved his hand from your breast to your neck, meeting his eyes. His brow furrowed, concern briefly flashing across his face. “You sure?”

You nodded, your lips brushing his. “Yes. Please.”

He gave a slow, tentative thrust, his hand lightly holding your throat. The pressure was just enough to make your head spin, your pulse racing. You whimpered, arching against him as he moved again—deeper this time, harder.

His hand loosened, his lips brushing yours. “God, you feel so good,” he whispered, kissing you softly as his hips kept moving.

You moaned, your hands finding his shoulders for support as you moved with him, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His breath was ragged against your neck, his voice low and rough as he whispered, “So good, baby. I’m not gonna last.”

You barely managed to murmur his name before you felt him tense, his grip on your waist bruising as he came, his warmth filling you.

Mingyu’s body relaxed, and he kissed your forehead, his hands gentle as he cupped your face. “You okay?”

You nodded, catching your breath. “Yeah. More than okay.”

He shifted, moving down between your legs. “Still feel like sleeping?”

You laughed softly, but the sound turned into a gasp as his mouth found your clit, his tongue moving in slow, precise circles. You whimpered, your fingers threading through his hair as his arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you still.

“Gyu—”

“Just relax, baby,” he whispered against your skin, the vibration making you shiver. He sucked lightly on your clit, and you couldn’t hold back the cry that escaped, your back arching as he brought you to the edge and over, his hands steadying you as you came.

He kissed his way up your body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before lying beside you, pulling you into his chest.

“Mingyu?” You whispered.

“Yeah?” he replied, tracing shapes on your shoulder with his fingertips.

You hesitated, biting your lip. You wanted to say it—the words were right there. But fear kept your mouth shut.

“Shower,” you mumbled instead, pouting.

Mingyu chuckled softly and kissed your nose. “Come here.”

He scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured. “Whatever you need.”

~~

The morning sun streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room. You sat on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest, trying to gather your thoughts. Mingyu appeared from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, his hair messy from sleep.

“Morning,” he mumbled, giving you a lopsided smile as he sat down next to you.

“Hi,” you replied softly, handing him a cup of coffee. Mingyu took it gratefully, breathing in the comforting aroma before taking a sip.

“God, I missed your coffee,” he murmured. You smiled at his familiar habit — the way he always inhaled the scent first. But he noticed your hesitation, your smile not quite reaching your eyes. “You seem... a little off,” he said, nudging your thigh with his knee. “Do you regret last night?”

Your heart clenched at the question, and you immediately shook your head, reaching for his hand. “No, not at all. I regret nothing.” You squeezed his fingers gently, offering him a reassuring smile. “Actually... I’m really glad we talked.”

Mingyu let out a soft breath, relief evident on his face. “Me too. I was worried I might’ve rushed things, you know? I don’t want to mess this up.”

You scooted closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t. I needed to hear it, too. I needed to know that you still wanted to try.”

Mingyu kissed the top of your head, his voice a murmur against your hair. “I’ll always want to try for us.”

The comfort of his presence made you feel lighter, like the weight that had been pressing on your chest was finally easing up. You spent the next few moments in silence, just savouring the warmth of him next to you, the familiar way his thumb traced circles on your knuckles.

After a while, Mingyu shifted, his playful smile returning. “So... do you want to go out today? I thought maybe we could do something fun—something that doesn’t involve heavy conversations.”

You nodded eagerly. “That sounds perfect. What did you have in mind?”

Mingyu grinned, his eyes brightening. “You’ll see. Just dress cute. I’m taking you on a date.”

~~

You didn’t know what to expect, but as you strolled through the bustling park with Mingyu’s hand firmly clasped in yours, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. Mingyu had brought his camera, and he kept stopping every few steps to snap a photo of you.

“Seriously, Gyu? I probably look weird in half of those,” you protested, shielding your face from his lens.

He chuckled, lowering the camera just enough to see your pout. “You look beautiful. Besides, it’s just for me. I want to remember how happy you look today.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you gave in, letting him take a few more photos. Mingyu’s face lit up every time he captured your smile, and it made your heart race in the best way. After a while, he led you toward a row of food trucks, insisting on buying you your favourite snack.

As you sat on a park bench sharing the food, Mingyu turned his camera on himself, pulling you into the shot. “Smile,” he whispered, his face close enough that his breath tickled your cheek. You couldn’t help but laugh, and he snapped the picture.

When he showed you the shot, you couldn’t deny how happy you looked. Mingyu looked at it for a long moment, his expression softening. “I missed seeing you like this.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I missed feeling like this.”

Mingyu placed a soft kiss on your temple. “You know... I’ve been carrying my camera around more since you left. It reminded me of all the little moments I never want to forget. Like this one.”

You intertwined your fingers with his. “I want to be part of more of your moments.”

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Then don’t leave again. Stay.”

You bit your lip, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. “I’m not leaving. I promise.”

The rest of the afternoon was filled with easy laughter and more spontaneous photos, Mingyu capturing every playful moment — from you accidentally tripping over a crack in the pavement to your exaggerated eye roll when he insisted on taking yet another picture of you with ice cream on your nose.

By the time the sun began to set, you found yourselves sitting on a blanket by the riverbank, watching the sky turn shades of pink and orange. Mingyu’s camera rested beside him, forgotten for the moment as he pulled you into his side.

“Thank you for today,” you whispered, tracing the veins on the back of his hand. “I needed this.”

Mingyu leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Me too. I’m really happy right now. Just... being with you.”

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, and he smiled before leaning in to kiss you. It was soft, unhurried, and full of every unspoken word you hadn’t found the courage to say yet. When he pulled back, he brushed his thumb over your cheek.

“I’ll take it slow. However long it takes for you to feel safe with me again,” he whispered.

You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss, this one deeper, more certain. “I already feel safe. I just... I’m learning how to not run from that.”

Mingyu chuckled softly. “I’ll chase after you every time. You’re worth it.”

You smiled, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. “I guess I’m stuck with you then.”

His laughter filled the evening air, and you knew that no matter how long it took, you were ready to keep trying — to let yourself fall completely and trust that he’d catch you.

~~

After the date with Mingyu, your heart was still fluttering as you walked back to your apartment. The evening had been unexpectedly sweet — Mingyu taking candid photos of you, insisting that every angle was your “best one,” and laughing when you tried to hide behind your scarf. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt so carefree.

When you reached the door, Mingyu pulled you into a soft, lingering kiss, his hands cupping your face as if he wanted to savour every second. “Take care of yourself tonight, okay?” he whispered against your lips, brushing his thumb over your cheek. You nodded, your heart swelling with warmth as he finally let you go, his eyes trailing after you as you stepped inside.

The apartment was quiet, but as you hung up your coat, you heard the faint hum of music coming from the living room. You tiptoed towards the sound and found Joshua sprawled on the couch, headphones on, humming to himself. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, but before you could sneak past him, he looked up and spotted you.

“Hey! You’re back!” Joshua’s face lit up as he jumped to his feet and rushed over to give you a bone-crushing hug.

You squeaked in surprise, your laughter muffled by his shoulder. “Joshua, can’t breathe!”

He pulled back sheepishly, his hands resting on your shoulders as he took a good look at you. “Sorry, just missed you. You look... happy. Wait, where’s Mingyu?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “He just walked me home. We had a really nice date.”

Joshua smirked knowingly. “Yeah, I figured. I wanted to say hi last night, but I saw Mingyu’s boots by the door and thought... yeah, better not interrupt.”

Rolling your eyes, you shoved his shoulder playfully. “Nothing happened. We just talked.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Talked? You mean the kind of talking where I could hear muffled giggles through the wall? Sure, Y/N, just talking.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Okay, maybe some kissing. But really, we just talked. We needed it.”

Joshua’s expression softened, and he guided you to sit with him on the couch. “So... how was home? Did it help?”

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders finally easing as you curled up next to him. “Yeah, it did. I needed some distance to think. I finally told Mingyu I loved him. First, I wrote it, and then I actually said it out loud.”

Joshua’s eyes widened, and a smile spread across his face. “Seriously? You finally said it?”

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip. “Yeah. I was terrified, but I couldn’t keep pretending I didn’t feel that way. He... he didn’t exactly say it back, though. He just said he needed some time. And that’s okay. I know I put him through a lot.”

Joshua wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Hey, that’s progress. You told him how you feel. That’s a big step, and honestly, it’s good that he’s taking his time. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t still be here.”

You leaned into his side, grateful for his reassurance. “Yeah, I know. I just... I really hope he believes me this time.”

Joshua nodded. “He will. He’s just cautious now. But trust me, he’s been way too mopey when you’re not around for him to just give up on you.”

Before you could respond, the front door creaked open, and Wonwoo walked in holding a grocery bag. “Joshua, they only had vanilla and pistachio,” he announced, making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Cool, thanks!” Joshua called after him before turning to you. “Seriously? Ice cream for breakfast?”

You snickered, but Joshua just shrugged. “It’s a Sunday. Anything goes.”

Wonwoo’s footsteps grew louder as he returned to the living room, and as soon as he saw you, his eyes softened. Before you could say anything, he crossed the room and pulled you into a tight embrace, nearly lifting you off the floor.

“Oof,” you mumbled, your face pressed against his shoulder. “Wonwoo?”

He didn’t let go, just squeezed you tighter. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice low and remorseful. “I was way too harsh before. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that.”

You closed your eyes, sinking into the hug. “Wonwoo... It’s okay. You were right, you know. I wasn’t taking accountability, and I needed a wake-up call. I just... didn’t expect it to hurt so much.”

Wonwoo sighed, finally pulling back enough to look at you. “I know. I was angry because I didn’t want to see you mess things up with Mingyu again. He’s my friend, but so are you, and it felt like I was stuck in the middle.”

You smiled faintly, your hands still on his shoulders. “I get it. I shouldn’t have said those things about you and Mia. I was being petty and defensive.”

Wonwoo gave a slight nod. “Yeah, but I still shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Joshua and Mingyu chewed me out for being too harsh. I didn’t realise how much it would hurt you.”

You reached up to ruffle his hair playfully. “Hey, it’s okay. I kind of deserved it. I’m just glad we’re okay now.”

Wonwoo chuckled, pulling you back into another quick hug. “We’re okay. Just... stop being so reckless with your feelings, okay?”

You laughed against his chest. “I’ll try. Thanks for not giving up on me.”

Wonwoo ruffled your hair in return. “It’s a full-time job, but someone’s gotta keep you in line.”

Joshua’s voice suddenly cut through the moment. “Oh, so we’re all making up now? Does this mean I can finally break out the wine?”

Wonwoo groaned, rolling his eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. But you’re not finishing the bottle this time,” you warned.

Joshua raised his hands in surrender. “Scout’s honour.”

The three of you ended up in the living room, sharing stories from your trip and poking fun at each other like nothing had changed. You knew things were still complicated with Mingyu, but right now, surrounded by your friends, you let yourself feel grateful for their support and the way they always found a way to put you back together.

As the night went on, laughter filled the apartment, and you realised that no matter how messy things got, you weren’t facing it alone. You had people who cared — and that was enough to keep you going.

The aroma of fresh flowers filled the cosy living room as you adjusted the string lights around the window. Mingyu’s apartment had changed a bit since those chaotic days — it felt more like home now, your home. Mingyu’s camera sat on the coffee table, surrounded by stacks of developed photos from his latest project, and you couldn’t help but smile at the candid shots he had taken of you: cooking, laughing, half-asleep on the couch.

You were putting the final touches on the makeshift photo wall when you heard keys jingle at the door. The familiar sound of Mingyu’s laughter drifted in as he walked in, carrying takeout and wearing that impossibly charming smile.

“Smells amazing in here,” he said, kicking the door shut and dropping his bag by the entrance. He shot you a lopsided grin, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how effortlessly handsome he looked.

“It’s just coffee and air freshener,” you teased, walking over to help with the bags. Mingyu pulled you into his arms instead, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll take it. Any excuse to have you smell nice,” he murmured against your hair, his fingers tracing patterns along your back.

You hummed contentedly and let him pull you closer, resting your head against his chest. After a few peaceful seconds, you whispered, “You’re home early.”

Mingyu kissed the top of your head. “Finished the shoot early. Figured I’d come back to you instead of hanging around the studio. Plus, I missed you.”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him. “It’s been six hours.”

Mingyu smirked. “Too long.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” he shot back, leaning down to kiss you again.

Once you were both settled on the couch, digging into the takeout, you noticed the glint of something on Mingyu’s wrist. A new bracelet. You squinted at it, reaching over to get a better look.

“Is that... my handwriting?” you asked, squinting at the little engraved plate on the bracelet.

Mingyu looked at it proudly. “Yeah. Had it made from that one note you left me before my last shoot — the one that said, ‘You’re enough.’ I loved your handwriting, so I thought... why not make it permanent?”

You felt your heart squeeze in your chest. “You’re unbelievable,” you whispered.

“I know. But it’s true, you know? You’re enough. More than enough.”

You leaned in and kissed him softly, your hands cupping his face. “So are you, Gyu.”

Before you could say more, a loud knock interrupted you. The door burst open, and Joshua and Wonwoo walked in, each holding grocery bags.

“Guys, you still don’t knock?” You joked, getting up to help them.

“Why bother? This place is practically ours,” Joshua replied with a mischievous grin, setting his bags on the counter. Wonwoo rolled his eyes but gave you a quick hug before following Joshua’s lead.

Mingyu chuckled, stretching out on the couch. “What’s the occasion? You two brought food voluntarily.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “We figured you guys would forget to cook with all the lovey-dovey crap going on.”

Joshua snorted. “I still can’t believe you managed to get them to agree to that couple’s photoshoot for your exhibition, Gyu. They looked like two lovesick puppies.”

Mingyu’s cheeks flushed a little, but he tried to cover it up by busying himself with the takeout. You just laughed, remembering how awkward you had felt at first — until Mingyu made you laugh mid-shot, and the rest just felt natural.

As you all settled down to eat together, conversations flowing freely and laughter filling the room, you couldn’t help but glance at Mingyu. He caught your gaze and gave you a soft smile, his hand slipping into yours under the table.

Later that night, after the guys left, and the apartment was quiet again, you lay in bed with Mingyu’s arms wrapped around you. His fingers traced lazy circles on your shoulder as he spoke softly.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been thinking... I know we’ve been doing this for a while now, and... well, what would you think about making it more... official?”

You turned to face him, your heart skipping a beat. “Are you proposing, Kim Mingyu?”

He grinned, his nose brushing yours. “Not quite... yet. But I want to keep coming home to you. Forever. I want to take photos of you laughing at my bad jokes and fighting with me over the last dumpling. I want this — you, me, our chaotic friends, and all of it. Officially.”

You couldn’t hold back the grin spreading across your face. “You mean... moving in together?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “And then... maybe someday, more than that. But let’s start there.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want that too.”

Mingyu’s smile was so bright it could have lit up the whole city. He kissed you, slow and sweet, like a promise.

As you curled up into his side, sleep tugging at your eyelids, you thought about how far you had come — from messy, unpredictable encounters to this: comfort, laughter, and love. You had found your way to each other, despite the obstacles, and you knew that wherever life took you next, you would face it together.

And for now, that was more than enough.

The End.