#i was trying to go for softer vibes here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nevernonline · 3 days ago

Text

✧.* talk too much; kmg

synopsis: a charismatic but slightly awkward mingyu, whose tendency to talk too much creates hilariously unpredictable situations. one early morning he spots a stranger sitting in the corner of the café—someone who's quiet, mysterious, and a little intimidating. drawn to her aura, he strikes up a conversation. but every time he opens his mouth, his words seem to betray him.

paring: mingyu x fem! reader.

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) some minor sexy stuff, but not much really.

word count: 11k

content: . non-idol idolings, awkward over sharer mingyu.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. ( there's a part 2 in my drafts fully bc I couldn't stop writing about these two)

The bell above the café door jingled as the stranger stepped inside. Mingyu, standing in front of the register, halfway through recounting a story to his favorite barista about the time he accidentally adopted a stray cat. He paused mid-sentence, caught off guard by the stranger’s presence.

She was unlike anyone who usually wandered into the cozy café—a stark contrast to the warm, inviting space. Dressed in muted tones, she carried an air of quiet confidence and mystery, expression unreadable. The girl didn’t look around or hesitate, walking directly to a table in the far corner as though she had been here a hundred times before.

Mingyu watched her settle in, his curiosity piqued. The girl placed a cherry red leather-bound journal on the table, opened it to a blank page, and began scribbling furiously.

“She doesn't look like she’s here for the coffee,” Mingyu muttered to himself.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed the notepad behind the counter from his stunned regular bar keep and approached the table.

“Hi there,” he said brightly. “Welcome to uh, Black Rabbit. Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea? One of the world-famous muffins? Well, they’re not world-famous yet, but I think they are. Anyway—”

The stranger looked up, her sharp eyes meeting his. Mingyu froze for a moment, forgetting whatever it was he was going to say next.

“Black coffee,” the stranger said curtly. Her voice was low, measured, and entirely unimpressed.

“Got it. One black coffee. Simple. Classic. You know, I respect that. Some people come in here and order drinks with so many extra syrups and toppings it’s like they’re trying to create a dessert in disguise. But you—you’re all about the essentials.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “Is there a point to this? Also do you even work here?”

Mingyu blinked, realizing he was rambling. “Uh, nope! No point. Just making conversation. I’ll get that coffee for you. And, uh, no I don’t. Just helping out.”

He turned and practically sprinted back to the counter, silently berating himself. “Cool, Mingyu. It's really cool.”

When he returned with the coffee, he found her staring out the window, lost in thought. He set the cup down gently, but instead of leaving, he spoke again.

“Hey, I don’t mean to pry, but are you... writing something? You looked really focused earlier. Like, next-level focused. Are you an author? Or maybe a secret spy writing down your next mission?”

The stranger sighed, looking back at him with an exasperated expression. “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Only when I’m curious,” Mingyu replied with a grin. “And I’m very curious about you. You’ve got that whole mysterious, ‘I’ve got secrets’ vibe going on.”

The girl finally gave a hint of a smile, though it was barely noticeable. “Maybe I do.”

That small flicker of amusement was all the encouragement Mingyu needed. “Okay, so you are a spy. Or an undercover rockstar. Oh! Or a—”

“I’m sorry, but I’m trying to work,” she interrupted, though her tone was softer now.

Mingyu took a step back, raising his hands. “Got it. I’ll leave you to it. But if you need anything—like a refill, a snack, or a friendly face—I’m your guy.”

“But you said you don’t work here.”

As he walked away, the stranger shook their head, a faint smile tugging at their lips. Mingyu may have talked too much, but there was something disarmingly genuine about him that made it hard to stay annoyed.

Heading up to grab his own cup from the counter, Mingyu stole another glance at her and couldn’t help but wonder what kind of story they were carrying—and whether he’d somehow become a part of it.

The next afternoon, the café was busier than usual, filled with a mix of students typing away on their laptops and a few regulars deep in conversation. Mingyu was at the counter, enthusiastically explaining to another regular Mrs. Park how the secret to perfect coffee lay in "a gentle pour and a mindful attitude," when the bell jingled again.

Mingyu's head snapped up, and sure enough, the girl from yesterday was back. This time, she seemed even more aloof, her eyes scanning the room briefly before settling back on her spot in the corner. She didn't notice Mingyu’s stare as she quietly set down her cherry red journal and began flipping through its pages.

Mingyu found himself momentarily frozen in place, suddenly aware of how *awkward* his last encounter had been. "Don't be weird this time. Don't overdo it," he muttered to himself, but his mind was already spiraling into potential conversation starters. What if he said something she’d find interesting? What if he said too much?

With a deep breath, Mingyu stepped away from the counter. He was *determined* to keep things casual.

“Hey, you,” Mingyu called out, walking toward her table, “back again, huh? Is the coffee that good, or are you just here for a change of scenery?”

The girl looked up from her journal, her eyes scanning him briefly before she spoke in her usual flat tone. “Just getting out of the house for a while.”

Mingyu nodded, trying to read the mood. “Yeah, I get that. Sometimes, you just need a little break from your own four walls. I mean, my walls are full of stuff—vinyl records, old concert tickets, a couple of questionable cat sweaters... but still.”

Her lips twitched, just for a second. “A questionable cat sweater?”

Mingyu grinned. “Yeah. It’s got a picture of a cat wearing glasses, trying to look intellectual. But honestly, I think it just makes the cat look like it’s about to take over the world. It was for my work Christmas party, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t worn it more than once.”

There was a moment of silence, and then the corner of her mouth curled up slightly. “I’d like to see that.”

Mingyu’s heart did a little flip. She’s smiling. "It’s not for sale. Only available to cat enthusiasts who appreciate the depth of their feline overlords."

Her smile lingered for just a second longer before it faded back into the neutral expression she wore so often. “I’ll take your word for it,” she said softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.

Mingyu felt a brief hesitation. Maybe it was better not to press too hard. He had a tendency to run with a conversation until it got awkward, and right now, the conversation felt almost... comfortable.

"So," Mingyu started, his mind racing for something else to say, “I’m guessing you’re writing more top-secret spy notes today? Or is it a shocking revelation about how you once got lost in a supermarket for three hours?”

The girl’s eyebrow arched. “That’s an oddly specific guess.”

Mingyu shrugged. “You'd be surprised how many people get lost in supermarkets. But, you know, it's all about the aisles and the lights. Before you know it, you're trapped in the frozen food section, wondering how you got there in the first place.”

She watched him for a moment, then laughed softly—a real laugh this time, not just a polite chuckle. It was low, but genuine, and it made Mingyu’s chest feel lighter than it had in days.

“Okay, I’ll admit that’s sort of funny, considering I assume you’re speaking from experience,” she said, surprising him even more. “But no, I’m not writing about that. Just...” She paused for a moment, her fingers stopping their restless tapping. “Just... trying to work through some things.”

The shift in her tone was subtle, but Mingyu could feel the change. For the first time, he wasn’t just a guy talking too much. He was hearing her in a way that felt real, as if she was opening up to him without fully realizing it.

“I get it,” Mingyu said, his voice softening. “Sometimes you just need a space to think things through. Like, I talk on the radio every night—way too much sometimes—but I guess it helps me sort out my own head.”

The girl looked up at him then, her eyes lingering on his face with a quiet intensity that made his heart race.

“You talk on the radio?” she asked.

Mingyu chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah. You could say I’m kind of a big deal, I mean here anyway to people who know me” He made a vague gesture to the café around them. “But only to the people who are really into weird facts and random stories. Like, one time I told my listeners about how I accidentally ended up with two lunch boxes after a miscommunication with a vending machine. I’m not proud of it, but hey, it makes for a great segment."

She tilted her head slightly. “What else do you talk about?”

Mingyu opened his mouth to reply, but then realized he was getting carried away. "Well, I don't want to bore you with my radio segment. Not everyone's cup of tea."

She looked thoughtful for a second. “I’d listen to you.”

His heart skipped. “Really?”

“Maybe.” She leaned back in her chair, her gaze still steady. “If you were actually interesting enough.”

Mingyu burst out laughing. “Okay, ouch. But I’ll take that as a challenge.”

She shrugged, and for a moment, Mingyu just stood there, unsure whether he’d said something that was too much or if she was just being her usual, unreadable self.

Finally, he broke the silence with a casual, “If you do end up listening, I’ll make sure to talk about my cat sweater for at least twenty minutes. That’ll make it worth your while.”

A flash of amusement crossed her face. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Mingyu smirked, making a mental note to talk in depth about his weird festive sweater, “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“If you’re worth it.” A challenge from the enigma of a girl.

“Okay, I’m Mingyu, by the way.”

She just smiled as he walked off and went back to her black coffee without another word.

Later in the night, the rain hitting the pavement outside of his office he watched as he had just finished setting up for his radio show. He spoke into the microphone, he could still feel the weight of his earlier conversation with the girl in the café. Something about her, her quiet mystery, had left him thinking, and for the first time in a long while, he felt calm on air.

“Good evening, everyone,” Mingyu’s voice boomed through the mic. “I’m your host, Mingyu, here to take you through the night with some extremely random thoughts in between your hot hit countdown. But first, let’s talk about something near and dear to my heart: cats. Yes, that’s right. Cats. And how, in some cultures, they’re considered mystical beings that can sense your innermost thoughts. Which, if you ask me, explains a lot about why my cat is currently judging me for eating cereal at 11 PM.”

He paused, chuckling to himself as he imagined the girl sitting in the corner of the café, maybe listening to him right now.

“Anyway,” he continued, leaning into the mic. “If anyone out there has a cat sweater as legendary as mine, I’d love to hear about it. Or if you’ve ever gotten lost in a supermarket, accidentally adopting an extra lunchbox, send me a message. You know, just the things we all need to talk about. Let’s connect, guys. Let’s keep it real. If you’re watching us live right now on Youtube leave your stories in the chat or don’t hesitate to hit me up on twitter at gyunation.”

The next morning, the café was as cozy as ever, with soft music playing in the background and a few early risers getting their caffeine fix. Mingyu was ordering coffee when the door opened again. He turned, already knowing who it was before she even walked in.

The girl from the had returned. She gave him a small, knowing smile as she walked in and headed toward her usual table.

Mingyu’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t expect to see you here again.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I said I’d hold you to it.”

He blinked. “Wait, what?”

“You’re wearing your cat sweater today,” she said with a hint of a smile, her eyes glinting. “And I’m listening to you. Now, tell me about the mystical powers of cats, Mingyu.”

Mingyu couldn’t help it. He grinned. He’d found a way to connect, just like he’d always hoped—through the stories, through the weirdness, and maybe, just maybe, through the unexpected bonds that only seemed to form when you weren’t trying so hard.

“If you finally tell me your name.”

“It’s y/n.”

Mingyu blinked, a mix of surprise and excitement flickering in his eyes. "Y/N," he repeated slowly, as if savoring the sound of it. It was simple, yet it felt like a small victory. There was something about hearing her name that made everything feel a little less mysterious, a little more real.

“I didn’t expect it to be so... normal,” Mingyu said with a half-joking grin, but there was a warmth in his tone that made the words feel genuine. "I was kind of hoping for something cooler, like... I don't know, Phoenix or something. Or even Astrid, that would’ve been a great name."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

Mingyu let out a short, embarrassed laugh. “Maybe. I get random ideas sometimes. Like, when I was younger, I was convinced my name should’ve been something cooler, like Max or Axel. But then I realized I was always just Mingyu. And now, well, I’m starting to like it." He hesitated for a second. “I’m starting to like the name y/n too.”

There was a flicker of something in her expression, something soft and fleeting, before it was replaced with her usual composed demeanor. “I’m glad to know you like it. Mingyu is honestly a nicer name than Axel. Though, you’re still in trouble. I’m waiting for my cat wisdom.”

Mingyu nodded enthusiastically, happy to follow the new flow of their conversation. He slid into the chair across from her, trying to hide the fact his hands were still slightly shaking from the excitement of actually talking with her. “Okay, okay. The mystical powers of cats—where do I even begin?” He leaned in dramatically, as if about to reveal some ancient secret.

"First of all, cats are masters of manipulation," Mingyu began, gesturing with his hands for emphasis. "I mean, if you’ve ever had a cat sit on your lap, staring at you like they know you’ve got food, but they're too dignified to beg—that’s sort of like when you know you’re in their power."

Y/N’s lips twitched, and for the first time, she seemed fully engaged in his rambling. “Manipulation, huh?” she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "I thought we were talking about mystical powers, not deviousness."

Mingyu grinned. “That is their mystical power, come on. They can manipulate you into giving them whatever they want, whether it’s food, affection, or a new scratching post. It’s all about the gaze, the quiet dominance. There’s a reason people say cats can see into your soul.”

Y/N nodded slowly, clearly entertained. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But what about the mystical part? You know, the one where cats are supposed to be magical, like, bringing good luck and stuff.”

“That’s a good one.” Mingyu leaned forward, his eyes lighting up with the sudden spark of inspiration. “Well, think about it. Cats sleep all day, but when they wake up, they’re already confident they can get what they want. They just know that time is precious, that sleep is sacred, and that the real power is in being present when it counts.”

He paused for a second, realizing that this wasn’t just him making random, funny observations anymore. There was something about how he’d said it—how focused he’d been—something deeper that he hadn’t planned for. Mingyu quickly shook his head, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Okay, maybe I’ve been watching too many cat videos, but you get what I mean, right?”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. “I get it. Cats don’t waste time. They don’t do things for anyone but themselves. That’s kind of powerful.”

“Exactly.” Mingyu’s smile was so wide it threatened to overtake his face. “It’s like they’ve got it all figured out. We’re all running around, doing a million things at once, but cats? They take it easy, let things come to them and somehow, it works out.”

Y/N sat there, looking at him for a moment, before her gaze drifted down to her journal. "I never thought about it that way," she said quietly.

Mingyu noticed the shift in her energy. It was subtle, but he could tell that his words had struck something deep. Before he could say anything more, she lifted her head again, her expression more thoughtful than before.

"Maybe I need to take a page out of the cat playbook," she murmured, almost to herself.

Mingyu watched her for a moment, wondering if he’d said too much, or if he was getting into dangerous territory where he might have pushed her too far with his endless chatter. But when she glanced back up at him, there was no irritation, only curiosity.

“I think we all do,” Mingyu said softly. “We could all use a little more time to just be. No pressure. No rush. Just existing in the moment.”

Y/N gave a small smile, and for the first time, Mingyu felt like it wasn’t just her pulling away from the world. It was almost like she was letting a piece of herself connect to him, in this little moment of vulnerability.

"So," he said after a beat, trying to keep the conversation light, "what are you going to do now? Go home and take a nap like a true cat?"

Y/N chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. "No, I think I’ll stay here for a bit longer." She looked up at him, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But maybe I’ll actually finish what I’m writing today. You know, before I get distracted by any more of your stories."

Mingyu’s grin widened, feeling a sense of accomplishment that he hadn't realized he was craving. “I promise, I’ll keep the stories to a minimum. But if you need a distraction, you know where to find me.”

She raised her cup of coffee, as if to make a toast. "I might just have to do that."

Later that day Mingyu returned to his usual post at the counter on his break from the studio, his mind still buzzing with the conversation he’d just had with Y/N. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this good about a conversation. His thoughts wandered back to her, and how she hadn’t seemed annoyed by his rambling. Instead, she’d actually listened—like she wanted to listen.

As the afternoon light filtered through the café windows, he found himself stealing glances at Y/N from the counter. She was still scribbling in her journal, her focus so intense it was almost like she was channeling her own version of that "cat power" he had talked about earlier.

And maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of her story. Or at least, part of the narrative she was writing in her mind.

The thought made him smile to himself, and for the first time in a while, he felt like he wasn’t just talking to fill silence. He was talking because it felt like she was listening—and maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like the sound of his voice, too.

Y/N’s eyes sparkled as she grabbed her things from the table and walked up to him standing in line,”I already got you another one, I remembered you came here around this time yesterday so I just took a shot.” Her fingers brushing against his in the exchange.

“I think it’s going to be just what I need,” he said softly, her smile lingering.

Mingyu nodded, suddenly aware of the quiet space between them. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but there was something comforting in the silence, something deeper than just shared words. It was like they both understood that there was more here than just a random meeting. Maybe, just maybe, they were starting to find something that couldn’t easily be put into words.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?” Mingyu asked, leaning against the counter, trying to keep the conversation going. “Any secret missions? Any mysteries waiting to be solved?”

Y/N took a sip of her espresso, savoring the rich taste before setting the cup down and looking at him with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, yes. I have been thinking about something,” she said, her voice quieter now, more reflective. “I’ve been thinking about what it means to really be somewhere. You know? Per our earlier conversation. Not just physically, but mentally. To actually let yourself be present and not be running from one thing to the next.”

Mingyu’s brows furrowed as he processed her words. “I get that,” he said slowly, almost to himself. “I think... I think I’ve been running around like that a lot lately. Always filling up my time with stuff, trying to get things done, but I’m never really here, you know? It’s like, I’m always on autopilot.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Exactly. It’s easy to get caught up in the noise. But sometimes, the quiet is where the answers are.”

Mingyu felt a strange warmth spread through him at her words. It was as though they were having a conversation that was much bigger than coffee, much bigger than just now. It felt like she was giving him a glimpse into something he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself.

"You know," he said softly, "I think I needed to hear that today."

Y/N looked at him, her gaze steady. "I think you were meant to hear it."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, Mingyu felt like the whole world outside the café had faded into the background. It was just him and her, and in this small, quiet space, they had carved out a little corner of understanding.

But before he could say anything more, Y/N stood, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I should get going,” she said, offering him a gentle smile. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Same time?” Mingyu asked, suddenly eager for the next day, for the next conversation, for the next moment with her.

She gave a slight nod, her smile turning a little more playful. “Same time. And don’t forget your charm, Mingyu.”

He laughed, feeling lighter than he had in days. “I’ll bring it. I promise.”

As Y/N left the café, Mingyu stood there for a moment, watching her go. He had no idea what was coming next, no idea what kind of story he and Y/N were writing together. But for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel the need to rush ahead to the next chapter. He was content to let it unfold, slowly and naturally, like the turning of a page.

And when the door swung closed behind her, he found himself already looking forward to tomorrow.

This time, he didn’t mind that he was talking too much.

It was a slow evening at the radio station. Mingyu leaned back in his chair, spinning lazily in circles while a groovy indie track filled the studio. The red ON AIR sign glowed softly above the window, casting the room in a warm, familiar light.

"Alright, everyone," Mingyu said into the mic as the song faded. His voice slid effortlessly into his signature radio tone—smooth, playful, and just a touch self-deprecating. "It's your favorite over-sharer again. If you're tuning in tonight, let me know you're out there. Send me your requests, your shout-outs, or your best guess for how long it took me to ruin my dinner plans this week."

As he flipped through a stack of vinyl records, his thoughts wandered. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the now not so stranger at the café. She had become a regular fixture in his life over such a short time, always sitting in the same corner, writing in that journal of hers.

The thought made him smile, and before he knew it, he was speaking again.

"You know," he began, leaning closer to the mic, "there’s this person who’s been hanging around my favorite café lately. They don’t say much, but there’s something about them—you know, the kind of person who’s like a locked treasure chest. You just want to figure out what’s inside. I, of course, have been trying to charm them with my wit and sparkling conversation. Has it worked? I’d say sort of. But hey, persistence is key, right?"

He chuckled, then added, “Anyway, I’ve decided to name them ‘Mystery Corner Person.’ If you’re listening, MCP, this one’s for you.”

Mingyu queued up the next track—a dreamy, nostalgic tune that felt just right. As it played, he leaned back and sighed, wondering if she's still listening to hear his ridiculous ramblings.

But, she did.

The next morning at the café, y/n walked in earlier than usual, her journal tucked under one arm. Mingyu was sitting at a high top table at the window when they approached him directly.

“I heard your show last night,” she said, her voice as calm and unreadable as ever.

Mingyu froze, a muffin balanced precariously in one hand. “Oh, uh��did you?”

Y/n tilted her head. “Mystery Corner Person?”

Mingyu’s ears turned pink. “That... might’ve been about you.”

“I figured.” They placed their journal on the counter, resting their hand on the cover. “You’re very open. I was waiting for you to bring it up actually.”

“I like to think it’s part of my charm,” he said, flashing a sheepish grin.

For a moment, they just stared at him, and Mingyu worried he’d made a fool of himself again. But then, to his surprise, the stranger smiled—a real, genuine smile.

“Your persistence is let’s just say.. entertaining,” she said, her voice carrying the faintest hint of warmth.

Mingyu felt a rush of relief and a spark of something else—hope, maybe. “Does this mean you’ll give me a shot? By being friends, I mean. Or acquaintances. Or—well, anything, really.”

Y/n chuckled softly, their smile lingering. “I’ll give you a shot.”

As they turned to head to their usual corner, Mingyu couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t much, but it was something. And for the first time, he felt like he might actually be breaking through that carefully guarded exterior.

He picked up his muffin and placed it back on the plate, walking over to their table with a little extra bounce in his step. Maybe his tendency to talk too much wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“So, mystery corner person,” Mingyu started, his voice light, playful. “Does this mean we’re friends now, or are you just humoring me?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips quivering. “I’d say we’re on the road to friendship. But I wouldn’t get too comfortable just yet.”

“Fair enough,” Mingyu said, leaning against the back of the chair across from her, still standing. He tried to suppress the urge to keep talking, but the words came tumbling out before he could stop them. “I’ll take what I can get. Besides, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s the quiet ones who have the best stories, and I’m betting you’ve got some good ones. Maybe you’ll share them with me one day.”

Y/N chuckled softly, the sound melodic. “I’m not exactly one for sharing my whole life, though. Not yet, anyway.”

“Well, no pressure,” Mingyu said quickly, lifting his hands as if in mock surrender. “You’ve got your own time. But I’ve got to warn you—I’m a terrible secret keeper. So if you start telling me anything too wild, I might end up broadcasting it.”

“Sounds dangerous,” Y/N replied, her tone a little teasing. “I’ll make sure to be careful around you then.”

Mingyu smiled at the playful challenge in her voice. He was surprised how easy it felt to talk to her now. There was something about her calm, unruffled nature that made him feel comfortable in a way he hadn’t expected.

He sat down at the edge of the table, leaning forward. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop with the radio host charm for now,” he said, waving his hand dramatically. “But you should know, it’s a hard habit to break. I’ve been talking to a microphone alone for so long, I forget there are real people out there sometimes.”

Y/N glanced at him over the rim of her coffee cup, the corner of her mouth turning up in a small smile. “I think it’s a good thing. You’ve got a way of making everything sound a little brighter.”

Mingyu blinked at her, taken aback by the unexpected compliment. He wasn’t sure how to respond at first, but he found himself chuckling, trying to play it cool. “Well, thank you. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said about my rambling.”

Y/N gave a slight shrug, but her eyes sparkled. “You make it sound like rambling is a bad thing. Sometimes, it’s nice to just say things and see where they go.”

“See?” Mingyu said, leaning in as if he’d cracked a code. “That’s what I’m talking about. You get it. You’re a fellow over-sharer in disguise, I just know it.”

Y/N let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’ll have to decide whether you’re worthy of knowing my secrets first.”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t annoy you with my stories,” Mingyu said with a wink. “But I’m pretty good at keeping secrets. If it makes you feel better, I won’t be sharing anything you don’t want me to.”

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” Y/N said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

Mingyu chuckled, standing up from his chair and giving a mock bow. “Alright, I’ll leave you to write. But, just so you know, I’m very persistent, so you’re going to be seeing a lot of me, mystery corner person.”

Y/n just waved him off, “For someone who wanted to learn my name so badly you’re in the habit of not using it.”

“Ah, you’ll be hearing a lot more of it. Don’t worry too much.”

Y/N shook her head with a faint smile, but just as he turned to leave, something tugged at her resolve. She called out after him, her voice hesitant yet firm enough to stop him in his tracks. “Mingyu?”

“Yeah?” He turned around quickly, almost like he’d been waiting for her to say his name again. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the air between them felt charged, words hanging unspoken.

Y/N hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook as if it could anchor her nerves. “Would you want to have dinner or something? I mean now that we’re friends, I figured we could hang out more. Not just over coffee.”

Mingyu’s expression softened into a genuine smile, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “I’d love that,” he said without hesitation. “How about tonight? I’m off at 7:30. Can we meet at Yeatta’s? It’s just a block or two from here.”

“Yeah, that works for me,” Y/N replied, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to play it cool.

“Great,” Mingyu said, his excitement barely contained as he gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you there, Y/N.”

As he walked away, Y/N found herself staring at the space he had just vacated, her lips curving into an uncontrollable smile. There was something about Mingyu that made her heart feel lighter—like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something worth holding onto.

Mingyu arrived at Yeatta’s at exactly 7:25, five minutes early but not surprising given the way he bounced on the balls of his feet, clearly eager. When Y/N walked in a minute later, scanning the small, warmly lit restaurant, she found him standing by the entrance, his smile lighting up as soon as he spotted her.

“Right on time,” he teased, holding the door open for her. “I was starting to think you might stand me up.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N shot back, smirking as she stepped inside. “You’d just hunt me down at the coffee shop tomorrow.”

“True,” Mingyu admitted with a grin. “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

They were seated at a cozy booth near the back, the smell of wood-fired pizza and roasted garlic wafting through the air. The atmosphere was relaxed, with dim lighting and soft jazz playing in the background. Y/N found herself relaxing more than she expected, her usual hesitations melting away under Mingyu’s easy charm.

“So,” Mingyu began, unfolding his napkin with a flourish, “are you going to finally tell me what you were writing so furiously in that notebook of yours?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she picked up the menu. “You mean the “mystery notebook” that you keep trying to pry into? Not a chance.”

“Come on,” he said, leaning forward with an exaggerated pout. “You can’t keep a secret forever. Especially not from me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Nice try. Maybe if you guess right, I’ll tell you.”

“Deal.” Mingyu grinned like he had already won. “But first, what’s your go-to comfort food? And what drinks should we get? I need to know if you’re a pizza or pasta person before it kills me.”

“Depends on the mood,” she said, glancing over the menu. “But tonight? Definitely pasta and red wine. You?”

“Pizza all the way, yes to the wine for sure, I might get white though? Better for the red sauce is what I’ve heard before, not sure if it’s true.” he said confidently. “ But I’m flexible. We can share if you want to try both.”

The waiter had just placed their wine glasses on the table, a rich red for Y/N and a sparkling white for Mingyu, who claimed he wasn’t much of a wine connoisseur but was always up for a little sparkle. As they clinked their glasses, the sound rang out softly, blending into the warm hum of conversation around them.

“To new friends,” Mingyu said with a grin.

“And persistent ones,” Y/N added with a sly smile before taking a sip. The wine was smooth, warming her from the inside as much as the company did.

“So,” Mingyu began, leaning back comfortably in his chair, “tell me something about you I wouldn’t guess just by looking at you.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking as she swirled the wine in her glass. “Hm,I used to play the cello when I was younger. Like, seriously. Competitions and everything.”

“No way,” Mingyu said, his eyes widening in surprise. “Why don’t you still play?”

“I got too busy with school, life, and, well, other things took over,” she said with a shrug, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. “But it was fun while it lasted. Your turn.”

“Something you wouldn’t guess about me?” Mingyu echoed, rubbing his chin theatrically. “Alright. I once auditioned for a cooking show.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What happened?”

“Well,” he began, leaning in like he was about to reveal a deep, dark secret, “I made it to the second round. But then I totally botched a dessert challenge because I got the sugar and salt mixed up.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “Oh no! What were you trying to make?”

“A soufflé,” Mingyu groaned, dramatically slumping in his chair. “I thought I’d be impressive, but instead, I made the world’s saltiest disaster.”

“I would’ve loved to see that,” Y/N said, still laughing. “You’re brave, though. I can barely cook for myself, let alone under pressure.”

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty decent cook these days,” Mingyu said with a wink. “Maybe I’ll redeem myself and cook for you sometime.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow but smiled. “We’ll see about that. I’ll be the judge. Ramsay style.”

The conversation naturally shifted as the wine loosened their inhibitions. Y/N talked about her love for old bookstores and how she could lose hours flipping through dusty pages, imagining the lives of people who owned them before. Mingyu shared his obsession with spontaneous road trips, confessing that he once drove five hours just to try a diner he saw on TV.

“You’re kidding,” Y/N said, incredulous but amused. “Was it worth it?”

“Absolutely,” Mingyu said, his eyes lighting up at the memory. “Best blueberry pancakes of my life..”

Y/N shook her head, smiling. “You’re so carefree. I don’t know if I could ever just get up and go like that.”

“Why not?” Mingyu asked, genuinely curious. “Sometimes the best moments are the unplanned ones.”

“Maybe,” she conceded, taking another sip of wine. “But I’m more of a planner. I like knowing what’s ahead.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, his tone playful but with a trace of sincerity, “if you ever feel like throwing the plan out the window, let me know. I’m pretty good at finding adventures.”

Their conversation was momentarily interrupted when the waiter approached with their pizza—a perfectly charred margherita, the thin crust bubbling with golden edges, fresh basil leaves glistening against the vibrant red of the tomato sauce. The aroma alone made Y/N’s stomach rumble, but neither of them reached for a slice right away. Instead, they lingered over their wine, the warm, dim light casting a golden glow over the table as their laughter filled the space between them.

Mingyu leaned back in his chair, his grin wide as he recounted one of his more daring childhood memories. “So, I was about ten, and I decided I was going to build the fucking coolest treehouse in the neighborhood,” he said, gesturing animatedly. “I had this old plank of wood, some rusty nails, and no clue what I was doing, obviously. I climbed up this huge tree in my backyard—like, way higher than I should’ve—and started hammering away. Next thing I know, one of the branches snapped, and there I was, dangling halfway up the tree, screaming for my mom.”

Y/N gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, but the corners of her lips twitched in amusement. “No way. You didn’t fall, did you?”

“No,” Mingyu said, shaking his head dramatically. “But I was stuck for maybe three hours? My mom had to call the neighbors to bring a ladder. And the worst part? My treehouse was just some lame ass piece of wood dangling from the tree like I was. It wasn’t exactly the cool architectural design I pictured.”

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “That’s hilarious. I can totally picture you as this ambitious little kid, full of big plans and no backup.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Mingyu said, chuckling. “I had all the ideas but zero execution. What about you? Any wild childhood adventures? Secret missions rather, since you’re a mystery.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then her expression softened, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re a little bit of a smartass, huh? When I was fifteen, I used to sneak out of the house late at night—not to go to parties or anything. I’d climb out my bedroom window and bike to this hill just outside town. It was the perfect spot to stargaze. I’d lie there for hours, just staring at the sky, convinced I was going to be an astronomer one day. And as I got older I still go sometimes, just to have a beer and sit alone, it helps me relax.”

Mingyu’s smile softened, his gaze lingering on her as she spoke. “That sounds really nice actually,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Why astronomy?”

“I think I liked how small it made me feel,” Y/N admitted, swirling her wine glass absently. “Like, no matter how big my problems seemed, they were nothing compared to the universe. Plus, I thought if I studied the stars, maybe I could find some meaning up there. I was always sort of lost as a kid, too shy to make a lot of friends, too terrible at sports to have nobody laughing at me when I would try out for teams, all that.”

“I feel like you’re selling yourself short,” Mingyu said sincerely. “So you still go?”

Y/N shook her head, a wistful smile tugging at her lips. “Not as much anymore. Life got busier, you know? But I think about it sometimes. I miss how peaceful it was.”

“Well,” Mingyu said, leaning forward with a playful glint in his eyes, “next time you want to chase stars, let me know. I think I have a spot you’d like.”

Y/N laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You’d sit in silence under the stars? No smart ass remarks or treehouse stories?”

“Hey, shut up. I can be quiet,” Mingyu defended, though his grin gave him away. “For a little while, at least. But no promises if I see a shooting star. You’re supposed to make a wish, right? Mine would be to bring alcohol and snacks.”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she reached for a slice of pizza at last. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here we are,” he teased, raising his glass for another toast. As their glasses clinked again, their laughter and stories spilled over like the wine in their glasses—easy, unhurried, and warm. Mingyu leaned back in his seat, his wine glass balanced loosely in his hand, and gave Y/N a look that was equal parts playful and sincere. “I’m serious, though. You tell me when you want to go stargazing, and I’ll make it happen. Snacks, drinks, blankets—you name it. I’ll even promise to be quiet for the first ten minutes.”

Y/N smirked, taking a small bite of her pizza. “Ten whole minutes of silence? That might actually be a record for you.”

“Don’t push it,” Mingyu shot back with a laugh. “You’d miss my voice too much.”

“Debatable,” she teased, but her smile lingered, softening the edge of her words.

They fell into a comfortable rhythm, their conversation weaving between playful banter and moments of genuine connection. Mingyu asked her more about her writing, his questions thoughtful and encouraging, and Y/N found herself sharing more than she expected—her half-formed ideas, her struggles with self-doubt, and her dream of one day publishing a book that might make someone feel the way she did when she opened a favorite story.

“I feel like you’re already halfway there,” Mingyu said, his tone serious now. “You light up when you talk about it. It’s nice to see you smile talking about something.”

She looked down at her glass, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. “You make it sound so easy.”

“Maybe it’s not easy,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth it. Besides, if you ever need a cheerleader, I’m available. Very affordable, too—just pay me in pizza.”

Y/N laughed, her nerves dissolving under his earnest encouragement. “I’ll keep that in mind. What about you? What’s your big dream?”

Mingyu hesitated for a moment, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Honestly? I think I’m still figuring it out. But I know I want to make people happy, you know? Whether it’s through cooking, making them laugh, or just being there when they need someone. That’s what feels right to me.”

“That’s a pretty great dream,” Y/N said, her voice softening. “And I think you’re already doing it.”

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the noise of the restaurant seemed to fade away. Mingyu’s smile turned a little sheepish, and he scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m glad to know I’ve got at least one satisfied customer.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You’re not terrible company, I guess.”

“High praise,” Mingyu teased, raising his glass again. “To not being terrible company.”

Y/N clinked her glass against his, her laughter mixing with his as they returned to their meal. As the night wore on, the slices slowly disappeared, but the conversation never lost its spark. They lingered long after the plates were cleared, talking about everything from childhood dreams to places they wanted to travel.

Eventually, the waiter discreetly dropped off the check, and Mingyu reached for it without hesitation. “Don’t even think about it,” he said when Y/N protested.

“I could’ve at least split it with you,” she said, crossing her arms.

“You could have,” Mingyu replied with a cheeky grin. “But then I wouldn’t get to say I treated you on our first official hangout. You can cover the snacks for stargazing—deal?”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head with a smile. “Deal.”

As they stepped out into the crisp night air, the city lights casting a soft glow on the streets, Mingyu turned to her. “So, was I as annoying as you thought I’d be?”

“Annoying? Yes,” Y/N said, her lips twitching in amusement. “But I don’t mind.”

“I’ll take it,” Mingyu said with a laugh. “Thanks for tonight, Y/N. It was probably one of the most fun things I’ve done in a while.”

“It was,” she admitted, surprised by how much she meant it. “See you tomorrow, persistent coffee guy?”

“Oh, you’ll see me,” he said, winking before turning to head down the street. “Unless I see you first, Mysterious Corner Person.”

Y/N watched him walk away, a warmth settling in her chest. As she started toward home, she couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to their next meeting.

As the dawn broke, the soft glow of the morning sun streamed through the windows of the café, casting a warm hue over everything. Y/N sat at her usual corner spot, absently scrolling through her phone while waiting for her favorite annoying friend. The comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mingling with the sound of light chatter and the clinking of cups. She hadn’t quite managed to shake off the memory of last night—Mingyu's laughter, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke, and the lingering warmth of their conversation.

Just as she checked her watch to see if Mingyu had been late or not, she heard the tinkle of the doorbell, drawing her attention. In walked Mingyu, a wide grin plastered on his face, walking up to grab two steaming cups of coffee in his hands. Y/N’s heart did a little flip; she couldn't help but smile back as he approached her with the casual confidence that always made her stomach flutter.

“I brought you your favorite,” he said, placing the cup in front of her. “Consider this an apology for being too charming last night. I didn’t mean to sweep you off your feet or anything.” The teasing lilt in his voice made Y/N chuckle, though she rolled her eyes playfully, masking the warmth tinting her cheeks.

“Too charming, huh? Is that even a thing?” she shot back, taking a sip and savoring the familiar taste. With every interaction, she found herself drawn deeper into the lighthearted banter they had cultivated. He sat down across from her, his playful nature washing away any remnants of a serious morning.

As days turned into weeks, those spontaneous coffee runs became the highlight of Y/N's mornings. Each day, Mingyu would find a new reason to linger—asking about her weekend plans, recounting strange dreams that had caused him to wake up giggling, or debating the merits of pineapple on pizza. There were moments when their conversations would drift into deeper territory, discussing their aspirations, fears, and the odd twists life threw their way.

Y/N soon discovered that Mingyu had an uncanny ability to make even the most mundane topics feel important. One Tuesday, as they squabbled over the best pizza toppings, he insisted, “Peppers and onions bring out the true flavor of the cheese!” which led to an impromptu debate that had them both laughing until their sides hurt.

She found herself anticipating these morning rituals, a bubble of happiness blossoming in her chest at the mere thought of seeing him. What started as a casual coffee run had morphed into something undeniably special—she began to crave his company more than she cared to admit.

Despite her attempts to play it cool, every shared laugh, every gently lingering gaze exchanged started to intertwine their lives in ways she hadn’t expected. Each day, the corner café felt a little more like a second home, not just because of the coffee, but because of Mingyu’s presence. Occasionally, she’d catch herself daydreaming about what it would be like to invite him over for a pizza night or to share a quiet evening watching movies, a little voice in her head whispering fears of slipping from friendship into something deeper—something beautiful yet terrifying.

But for now, they relished the simplicity—the easy comfort of shared coffee, laughter, and the exhilarating thrill of something unspoken hanging softly between them, waiting for the right moment to blossom.

After weeks of easy laughter and coffee-filled mornings, Mingyu—emboldened by Y/N's growing fondness for their time together—decided it was time to showcase his culinary prowess. He had mentioned his love for cooking during one of their coffee chats, specifically teasing about a past cooking show attempt that had ended in disaster when he mistakenly used salt instead of sugar in a dessert. It was an absolute failure, but the way he recounted it had left Y/N in stitches, and she couldn’t help but encourage him to put that experience behind him.

So it was with a mischievous smile that Mingyu sent her a message inviting her over to his place for a “proper meal.” His confidence was infectious, and Y/N found herself excited at the prospect of spending an evening cooking together, even if she glimpsed a little fear behind her excitement.

That Saturday evening, Y/N arrived at his apartment with a spring in her step, holding a bottle of wine as her contribution to the dinner. Mingyu greeted her at the door, a cute apron tied around his waist, and his hair slightly tousled as if he had been preparing all day. The kitchen already smelled inviting, with the simmering of something savory in the background.

“Welcome to my kitchen.” he declared, flinging open his arms in mock grandeur. “Prepare to be blown away.” Y/N giggled, feeling a playful banter already brewing between them as they stepped into the kitchen.

They started a little unsure, mixing up ingredients and dancing around each other in the small space. Laughter filled the air as he guided her through the preparation of their meal. Chopping vegetables turned into a chopping competition, resulting in some accidentally discarded pieces flying across the countertop. They were both a bit clumsy, but it only added to the charm of the evening.

However, chaos ensued as Y/N intentionally mixed up the sugar and salt while measuring the ingredients for the sauce. As a callback to make fun of Mingyu’s cooking show embarrassment hoping he wouldn’t take it to heart too much.

Mingyu’s face morphed from confusion to pure horror as he tasted the sauce. “What is this? Are you fucking with me?” he exclaimed, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably, a burst of laughter erupting between them.

“Hey, I thought we could give you a call back to your days as an aspiring chef. You were just telling me to ‘add seasoning’!” Y/N retorted, her laughter bubbling over.

The kitchen transformed into a battleground of flour and spills as they attempted to clean up the mess, dashing here and there grabbing paper towels and laughing uncontrollably as they dodged flour clouds that seemed intent on sticking to every surface—including themselves. The floor bore witness to a sprinkling of flour footprints leading from sink to counter and back.

“Okay, okay. Clearly, we’re not going to win a Michelin star tonight,” Mingyu chuckled, wiping a hand across his forehead, flour now dusting his cheek.

“Maybe we should just clean up and order takeout? Sorry for fucking up your nice meal” Y/N suggested with a grin, realizing neither of them had even started on the main course yet.

“I have a feeling this was your plan all along, think I’m going to poison you?” He nodded enthusiastically.

“Absolutely.”

They huddled over his phone, browsing menus and sharing a laugh about different food combinations, all the while enjoying the relaxed comfort of each other’s company. As they placed their order, Mingyu playfully bemoaned the “greatest culinary disaster of the century,” and Y/N couldn’t help but tease him about his cooking abilities.

When the food finally arrived, they sat down on the couch, a jumble of takeout containers and mismatched plates, laughter still dancing in the air. They dug in, enjoying their food with a warmth that stemmed not just from the flavors but from the shared experience that had turned their simple dinner into pure chaos, followed by comfort as their legs touched settled into his cozy sofa, which they both pretended not to acknowledge.

In between bites, their conversation flowed easily, the earlier chaos of the kitchen forgotten, only to be replaced by gentle teasing and heartfelt discussions. The evening had not gone as planned, yet in those moments, Y/N felt a closeness to Mingyu that she hadn't fully anticipated and wasn’re sure what it meant.

As they polished off the last of their takeout, they leaned back against the couch, feeling the loosening tension from the day, laughter still bubbling between them. She glanced at him, his face lit up with a satisfied grin, and realized that this was far more memorable than if everything had gone perfectly. The spilled flour and overly salty sauce had become their personal anecdotes, stories to reminisce about, etched into their growing relationship.

And even amid the mess, she felt something shift—this was more than just a casual evening; it was a bond that deepened with every laugh shared and every slight mistake made together. In the cozy warmth of the moment, Y/N found herself contemplating just how right it felt to be here with Mingyu.

“Do you-”

They both said at the same time, their laughter flowing still. Y/n prompted Mingyu to talk first, grabbing the can of sweating beer sitting on his coffee table and taking a swig.

“No, just do you ever think about how crazy it is that we met each other?” Mingyu watched y/n's expression as if she was a television character. “We were strangers a few weeks ago and now here we are, I feel like I’ve known you my whole life.”

Y/N felt a warmth bloom in her chest at his words, a flutter of something electric that made her heart race. Swallowing her sip of beer, she considered his question, the implications of it wrapping around her like a blanket. “It is sort of crazy,” she replied softly, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms as she reflected on their journey. “Just a few weeks ago, we were two random people in a coffee shop, sharing awkward small talk over our drinks.”

Mingyu chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting, causing Y/N to smile at the memory. “Right? I remember how you tried to hide your eye roll when I started rambling about my guilty pleasure shows. You've been way more patient with my quirks than I deserve.”

“Hey, you didn’t have to twist my arm to talk about junk food and reality TV. That’s a gift you offered me,” she replied, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “But seriously, I don’t know. It just feels almost too easy with you.”

He nodded, the sincerity on his face deepening. “Absolutely. I had this fear that after my cooking show mishap, I’d never cook for anyone ever again. But, somehow, I feel comfortable with you. Like I can be myself—flour-covered and all..

“I get that.” she replied, her heart still racing from the way his eyes searched hers, filled with an openness that was rarely offered. “It’s everything—our late-night talks about nothing and everything, all those moments and I like that I don’t feel pressure to impress you.”

Mingyu’s gaze softened as he let her words sink in, a smile spreading across his face—a mix of relief and happiness. “I feel the same way. I guess it’s nice to find someone who can appreciate you for who you are, flaws and all.”

“I thought you didn’t have any flaws?”

The atmosphere shifted slightly, a gentle gravity settling around them as they shared this moment of vulnerability. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving only the sacred space between them filled with thoughtful breaths and unspoken words.

Then, suddenly, Mingyu leaned a little closer, his elbow resting on his knee as he caught her gaze with an intensity that made her heart flutter even more. “You know… I think the best part about getting to know you is discovering how we both navigate our own messiness. We’re both a little chaotic in our own ways, and it’s refreshing to find someone else who can embrace that.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as Mingyu’s honesty wrapped around her like warmth. She knew that beneath the laughter and playful teasing, he was speaking to something significant happening between them. “It’s like we balance each other out, right? Your zero flaws perfectly complement my complete lack of many. ”

He threw his head back in laughter, and it vibrated through them both like a comforting echo. Touching her thigh out of instinct.

Mingyu’s expression shifted then, his eyes earnest yet playful as he leaned in closer, robes of laughter giving way to something deeper. “Okay, but in all seriousness—what do you think happens next for us? I mean, if we keep this up?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his question, a mixture of excitement and vulnerability swirling in her chest. Tilting her head slightly, she studied his face, a thought bubbling to the surface that she hadn’t articulated before. “I guess we keep figuring it out. I know that’s a lame ass answer, but-”

Mingyu’s face brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. “We’ll have takeout nights, of course—maybe even attempt cooking again when we’re feeling bold.”

“Yes. But with a solid plan in place this time,” she teased, her heart warming at his enthusiasm. “whatever this is.”

“Whatever this is,” he echoed with a soft smile, stretching his arm out along the back of the couch, leaving just enough space for her to lean against him if she wanted to. The gesture lingered in the air, an invitation that made her pulse quicken.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N felt a wave of courage washing over her. She shifted closer, rationally giving way to instinct, and in that moment of intimacy, she let herself lean against him, their bodies fitting together effortlessly.

“And I wouldn’t want to do it with anyone else,” she murmured softly, feeling a profound shift in their dynamic as she nestled against Mingyu’s side. Warmth enveloped her, not just from his body, but from the genuine connection they had forged. She took her hands to his warm cheeks and brushed off the lingering flour, running her fingers over his soft lips.

Mingyu’s arm instinctively draped around her shoulders, holding her close, and she felt an undeniable sense of belonging in his presence. “You can’t be this close to me and not kiss me.” he replied quietly, and she could hear the sincerity in his voice, the gravity of their shared moment.

As she stared at him in silence for a minute, a smile washed over her face as she leaned in and made a path to his lips with hers instead at the last minute swerving and giving him a kiss on the cheek playfully.

Laughter bubbled between them, lightening the tension that had built in the air. Mingyu looked momentarily surprised, his eyes widening and brows raising in mock disappointment. “Oh, come on. That was a dick move.”

Y/N giggled, the sound of a playful melody that danced around them in the cozy space. “I couldn’t help it. The look on your face was so worth it.” She winked mischievously, enjoying how their moment, which had felt so heavy and charged just seconds before, had shifted into this playful teasing.

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. “You’re so mean.” He feigned frustration, but the warmth of his expression and the sparkle in his eyes told her just how much he enjoyed her whimsy.

Pride swelled within her at his compliment, and her cheeks flushed at the spontaneity of it all. They were sharing this beautiful blend of fun and intimacy—a carefree-ness that made her heart flutter and her stomach twist into knots of anticipation. She hesitated for a moment, still wrapped in the warmth of his presence, contemplating allowing the moment to settle in further.

“Okay, okay… I’ll redeem myself,” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a hint of seriousness beneath her earlier teasing. The shift in her tone caught his attention, and his playful expression faded slightly, replaced with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.

“Are you sure?” Mingyu asked, his voice low and filled with a vulnerability that made her heart ache in the best way.

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the boldness wash over her again, surpassing any lingering nerves. “I am,” she assured him, her heart hammering as she leaned in closer this time, matching his gaze as they hovered just inches apart. “I guess we’ve come too far to hold back now, right?”

“Right,” he breathed, his eyes darkening with something primal, something that sent a shiver of excitement coursing through her. The air between them felt charged, electric, as if they were daring each other to bridge the final distance.

In one swift movement, she closed the small gap, finally pressing her lips against his in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle at first, teetering on the edge of hesitation, but as Mingyu responded—his lips molding to hers with a warmth she'd yearned for.

Time seemed to blur around them as they savored the kiss, allowing the moment to expand, realizing that this was a milestone in their relationship. Y/N’s heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, drawing him closer still; she could feel the way he leaned into her, matching her eagerness. Each touch ignited sparks, tossing her into a whirlwind of longing that was both intoxicating and exhilarating.

When they finally pulled back, breathless, she leaned her forehead against his, her heart racing from the tenderness that hung in the air between them. Mingyu’s eyes were bright, reflecting the disbelief and joy of their shared moment. “Wow.”

“Yeah?” she asked softly, a shy smile breaking across her face. “Because, I’d say it was mediocre.”

The lightness returned, and Mingyu laughed, the sound lifting her spirits even more. “Shut up, you’re a liar, you were basically begging me for more. ”

“I might need another later, just so you can redeem yourself.”

“I can make that happen, you know.”

They grinned at each other, a shared understanding deepening their connection even further. The world outside felt like an echo, distant and unimportant as they savored this newfound bond, filled with untapped potential and the joy of each other’s company.

“Can you imagine what our friends would say if they knew we spent the night making a mess and then ended with a make-out session?” Mingyu said, his laughter still dancing in the air.

Y/N shook her head, chuckling softly. “Who knows? They might be incredibly jealous we got to have missed out on our “disaster” of an evening. But honestly, I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

“Me neither,” he replied, his tone shifting back to sincerity. “But just so you know, I’m claiming the next time we cook together you just sit and watch.”

“And why is that?” Y/N asked, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism, her heart dancing at his enthusiasm.

“So I can look sexy for you in the kitchen and you might kiss me again, obviously.” he declared dramatically.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for his silliness. “Alright, chef. You have yourself a deal. But next time? I’m bringing dessert.”

“Maybe I’ll just have you for dessert.” Mingyu said with a teasing grin, and she felt her cheeks flush once again in delight.

With that playful banter, the rest of the night melted away into easy laughter, light touches, and the thrill of new beginnings. She felt something incredible blooming between them, something beautiful that blended friendship with a newfound romantic spark, and she couldn’t wait to see where their journey might take them next.

As they settled back on the couch, Y/N nestled against him once more, content with the knowledge that whatever chaos life threw their way, they would tackle it together—with laughter, love, and perhaps a little less clothes involved.

397 notes · View notes

kateksmallcuteowl · 5 months ago

Text

June 29: Single Parents/Uncles AU for an event by @bagginshieldweek24

I deeply regret that the challenge is a day late! Exams are merciless to me, and even though I started drawing in advance, I still couldn’t handle the deadline 😅 I promise to catch up with feedback tomorrow, after passing bioinformatics exam.

More headcanons and details under the cut>>

— It’s an alternative Middle-earth universe with hobbits, humans, dwarves, and elves, but set in modern times.

— Thorin grew up in Erebor in a royal family (which makes sense), is accustomed to good coffee, can distinguish different types, and knows which brewing devices are best. Now he has moved to London for work and discovered that both dwarf and human coffee shops would often use cheap beans or bad coffee machines, or they grind the beans incorrectly, or even set the wrong amount of grams of coffee per espresso shot. In general, they save money wherever they can, mostly selling the vibe and relying on the fact that taste isn’t important to most of the customers. Elves occupy the niche of coffee connoisseurs, but Thorin would rather drink filter coffee from a kettle on the roadside than go to elves. And then he discovers that hobbits, little hedonists, love good food and GOOD COFFEE! Of course, in hobbit cafes, he has to sit on low chairs and by the small tables, and at first, the other patrons looked at the dwarf in their company strangely, but it’s worth it. Thorin is willing to sit with a bent back if he gets a quiet and cozy atmosphere, excellent Wi-Fi, and delicious coffee (an office in London is good, but sometimes you need to get out of the four walls to not get nuts).

— Thorin rarely drinks pure espresso, preferring softer variations. He also has a sweet-tooth.

— Bilbo is a children’s book writer, mainly known for a series of fantasy novels about a brave hobbit who traveled over and under the mountains, rode in barrels, and played riddles in the dark (Bilbo, in canon, wrote his memoirs, which all hobbits except Merry and Frodo knew primarily for Hobbiton children, so I think he would primarily write for little hobbit kids).

— It’s not a real feather he uses, but a ballpoint pen with attached feathers, like those sold in souvenir shops. Bilbo bought it after a tour to the Tower of London. He likes the ✨vibe✨ and the fact that he can twirl the feather part around his lips when he’s thinking. (It’s literally an instruction on how to seduce Thorin)

— Mr. Baggins only drinks doppio. The cup is big compared to him because it’s hobbit ceramics, and the portion sizes for hobbits, who love treats, are no smaller than human ones.

— Bilbo has taken care of Frodo since his parents drowned in an accident. Frodo is about 8-9 years old here.

— I love the headcanon that hobbits’ ears react to their emotions, so the fact that Frodo doesn’t lower them when Bilbo scolds him is a good sign. Bilbo is a good uncle.

— Thorin and Bilbo have seen each other several times on Wednesdays. Usually, they don’t care about other patrons, but barista keept trying to serve a doppio to the stern scowling dwarf in black leather jacket, and a cappuccino with whipped cream to the little curly hobbit in a plaid sweater. They’ve had to swap their drinks several times.

— Thorin read Mr. Baggins’ books to his nephews in Erebor and quickly figured out who always sits at the table near the window in his favorite cafe. Thorin likes Bilbo’s books but doesn’t know if he’s married because he keeps his personal life private. Seeing Frodo, he immediately assumed he was Bilbo’s son, considering how the little hobbit looks at him.

— Bilbo immediately noticed the stern ( handsome) dwarf sitting with his eyes glued to his phone, but he always felt too awkward to speak with him. How do you even start a conversation with a stranger, especially from another race? So when Frodo, rather bluntly, commented on his appearance, of course, Bilbo was embarrassed. No, he absolutely agrees with Frodo. The exotic braids, unusual for short-haired hobbits, look amazing on the tall dwarf, and the iron clips highlight his blue eyes perfectly, but isn’t that a bit rude to point that out? Wouldn’t a dwarf decide that he is trying to mock his culture?

— Bilbo saw that while he was scolding Frodo, Thorin turned away and for some reason tugged angrily at his braid, so he decided to muster the courage and compliment him himself to ease the awkwardness and not seem rude (not at all because he would gladly say what Frodo did himself and not because Mr. Dwarf has much more attractive features he’d also like to make a comment on, not at all, what are you talking about, no-no-no).

— The dwarf didn’t seem offended at all.

— They started talking and found out that Thorin’s nephews love Bilbo’s books (Bilbo was flattered by this news. He’s still surprised when his books are read by anyone other than hobbits. (Gandalf didn’t tell him that his books are popular among all races. Mostly because for other races they play the role of kids books where main protagonist is a cute mice)).

— And in the end, as we see, they exchanged numbers 🌚🌝

— They will meet again, but without Frodo and not just for coffee.

— The end✨✨✨

I’m still experimenting with a flat-color style and lineart so I’ll be glad to know what do you think about it. Hope the comic was enjoyable!

#procreate #fanart #bagginshieldw24 #bagginshield week #bagginshield #bilbo baggins #frodo baggins #thilbo #the hobbit #thorin x bilbo #thorin oakenshield #lotr #lotr fanart #fandom event #tolkien #fan comic

572 notes · View notes

forlix · 1 year ago

Text

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes.

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

2K notes · View notes

cheonstapes · 1 year ago

Note

^^ Hello, how are you. Idk if this is the right place to send a request since I’m new to tumblr lol. I would like to make a request though it may seem a little weird. May I request Miguel O’Hara/Fem Spider-barbie reader. Reader’s outgoing and cheerful she has the aesthetic of a Barbie and gets along with other spiders, she’s not actual barbie doll btw lol. Miguel could be yelling and giving other spiders a hard time but whenever Spider Barbie’s around he’s the complete opposite. Spider barbie always helps calm him down whenever he loses his temper. Maybe one day he’s stressed and angry over a mission so spider barbie decides to calm him down with a back massage. Could also lead to some smut, only if you’re okay with writing that. No pressure. Thanks! ^^

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HI BARBIE! HI KEN!' ヽ(>∀<☆)

a/n ~ first request!!1!! i'm doing great, thank you so much. this isn’t weird at all- i spent all day writing this, it's so cute!! i had margot robbie's cowgirl fit in mind for reader when i was writing this, she's so beautiful omg, i think it suits spider-barbie's vibe really well💕 went a bit heavy with the smut but miguel's hot so it's valid- enjoy my love!

summary; miguel gets some stress relief from his favourite barbie girl.

pairing; miguel o’hara x fem!spider-barbie!reader

wc; 2.3k +

cw; SMUT!!, pining, oral sex, dry humping, facial, throat/face-fuckin, soft?dom!miguel, sub!reader, he's a lil mean but he loves you, praise kink, worshiping, hair pulling, miguel shouts at some people, f!masturbation, squirtinnn, miguel being sexy, NOT PROOFREAD!! i have a headache

“and you didn’t think to fucking report it to me?” miguel was seething, talons digging stripes into his desk as he glared down at the poor recruits below him. yes, they were new, but they fucked up an important mission- he wasn’t about to go easy on them.

“por el amor de dios, do you three have any idea how serious this is? you could’ve-“ the spiders looked at each other, eyes of their masks comically wide as the drown out miguel’s rants to try and come up with some sort of excuse to justify the failed mission. “-and don’t even think about coming up with some bullshit excuse.”

they froze, shaking their heads and hands rapidly as they nervously stuttered out, ‘no, of course not’, and, ‘we would never, boss’- miguel’s disapproving gaze boring holes into their masks, he jumps off the platform and stalks up to them. menacingly looming over them as his eyes flash red, lips pulled up in a snarl as his sharp fangs poke out under his top lip.

“don’t let this happen again, cause i swear i’ll-”suddenly, the doors of his lab slide open, a cheery voice ringing through the spacious room as all eyes flit towards the pink figure strutting in. the recruits blush under their masks, hearts beating rapidly at the sight of the sparkly spider- known across the spiderverse as the most perfect spider, spider barbie.

“miguel? i brought you some lunch! oh- hi guys! sorry i didn’t mean to interrupt, i’m y/n, by the way.” you flash them a bright smile, glossy, plump lips glistening under the lights as you hold up the bag of food- the spiders wave frantically, greeting you with unmatched enthusiasm. miguel’s breath hitches at the sight of you, masking it with a roll of his eyes as he looks down at you- eyes softer compared to the harshness they had when looking at the recruits.

“it’s fine, y/n, we were done here anyway.” that was their cue to leave, the newbies scrambling to get out of the room, feeling the tension rising, but not without sending you shy smiles and whispered goodbyes you reciprocate with angelic kindness. miguel watches you intently, eyes locked on your every move. his eyes trail down the hot pink set you wore, the fat of your tits spilling out the tight top, curvy hips accentuated by the tightness of your flares - fuck, you are perfect.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his bulking frame towering over you as he takes the bag gently from your pretty hands, making sure to brush over them slightly. “what’d you get me this time, hm? empanadas again?” he has a crooked smirk on his lips as he opens the bag, his eyes still trained on you as you sit on the counter, the prettiest smile on your face. “actually, i got you some sushi this time. thought i should surprise you a little.”

he allows himself to smile, the tension in his face easing in your presence. “yeah? how’d y’know i’d like sushi? you keeping tabs on me?” you giggle, stealing a piece of sushi from the platter. “wouldn’t you like to know. i asked lyla, actually, she’s very helpful.” his eyebrow raises, glancing over at the glowing hologram who appears to be lounging by the monitors, a small smile on her face hidden by a small magazine.

“right, guess i’m gonna have to install a ‘keep your fuckin’ mouth shut’ feature now.” he mutters, secretly enjoying the thought of you knowing things about him he wouldn’t dare to tell anyone if they asked, relishing in the thread of connection you two share. you stand, moving around him to stand behind him, stretching up to grip his shoulders.

“you ok, miguel? you seemed upset earlier.” you whisper in his ear, hands running down his arms innocently. he doesn’t think so though, the soft touch of your hands compared to his firm muscles igniting a tingling feeling in his belly - a soft groan leaving his parted lips as he leans into your touch. “‘m fine, the new recruits just pissed me off. nothin’ f’r you to worry ‘bout, pretty.” you smile slightly as he lets the pet name slip out, your hands running more sensually around his upper body, dipping into the crevices and curves of his chiseled body.

“let me at least help you feel better, mig, your shoulders are tense as fuck.” you smirk playfully, leaning round his body to peer up at his face, eyes widening as you take him in. his eyes were slightly hooded, wetted lips open in pleasure, a faint tinge of red on his face. he looks down at you, panting softly as he sucks in a deep breath, nodding silently as he allows you to lead him wherever.

gently grasping his hand in yours, you lead him towards his large chair, sitting him down as you slide yourself in his lap. miguel’s head races with all sorts of thoughts, the tell tale sign of his arousal pressing against the crotch of your sparkling pants, his hands subtly moving you down to ease the ache in his lap. your lips pull into a empathetic pout, hands moving gracefully along the taut muscles of his shoulder blades, moving down to the ridges of his abs.

“how’s this feel? am i doing good?” the sweet tone in which you speak has him biting back a growl, his cock throbbing as he moves subtly against the plush folds of your cunt through the fabric. “ ‘s great, your- shit- your hands feel amazing, love. jus’…keep doing that, yeah?” you nod, biting your lip softly as you keep up your soft caresses. his head falls back against the chair, eyes closed in bliss- he looks so unbelievably handsome, sculpted jawline, high cheekbones, he’s just so mmh.

you couldn’t help yourself, not when he was practically offering you a taste of him. his thick neck, littered with veins of various sizes, laid bare for you. you slowly moved in, small breaths warming the skin of his neck, heart pumping and hands trembling slightly. your glossy lips press light kisses on the flesh, shiny, pink, marks left behind. one hand moves up to rest on his chest as you feel a surge of boldness rush through you, leaning in once again to suckle on his skin.

his eyes flit open, gazing down at you as you mark his neck with deep red and purple bruises, his hand lazily running up your spine as he grinds into you just a little harder. “hm? what happened to givin’ me a massage?” he flashes you a sexy grin, tilting his head at your ministrations- not that he minds of course. you don’t respond, only small moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you continue to suck on his skin. his hand moves down to your chin, lifting your flushed face to meet his. “thought you were supposed to be makin’ me feel better? i can feel that pretty pussy soaking through y’r jeans, love. this turnin’ you on?”

you nod, your beautiful face betraying your need for him. he lets out a deep chuckle, hands caressing your hips as he moves you to grind against him, the thin fabrics of both of your clothes letting you feel the engorged tip of his cock brushing against your clit. he breathes out a stuttered moan, gritting his teeth as he stares into your eyes, how could someone be so fuckin’ perfect? you had to have been made to torture him, to make his heart race and cock hard to every time he’s around you- hell, every time he thinks about you.

“miguel…” your whining snaps him out of his thoughts, his focus immediately zeroes back onto you. he pulls you closer, resting you against his bulky chest. “yeah? what’s up, baby? what d’you want?” his thumbs caress your nipples through the fabric of your top, the rough pads of his fingers making your pussy clench tightly, slick coating your puffy folds. you look up at him, hands pulling at the thin fabric of his suit. “i still wanna make you feel better…can-can i suck you off, please?”

has he died? has miguel died and gone to heaven? or was this some kind of fucked up hell, there was no way he was hearing correctly. you, the sweet, innocent, barbie-esque, spider he’s been silently pining over for months now is asking him, so cutely, to suck his cock. he doesn’t think he’s been as eager to say yes to anything as he was now. he clicks a button on his wrist, his suit glitching away at his crotch. his cock is so pretty. a trail of dark hair leading down his navel, the tip a deep red, the rest tanned, throbbing veins wrapping around his length. it was fat, and shit, it was long too- pre dripping down the side of it as it, twitching the longer you stared at it.

your mouth waters, tongue darting out to lick your lips. your nimble hands wrap around his cock, a small gasp rings out in the room as your thumb runs along his tip, collecting the wetness and rubbing it around the tip. his fangs dig into his lips, speckles of blood pooling underneath the sharp tip. he sinks deeper into the chair, his suit dissipating more to reveal his thick thighs, a large hand coming to rest against one, the other caressing your cheek softly. “gonna wrap those pretty lips around me, baby? ‘m so hard, need you to make me feel better.” he didn’t expect to hear how needy he sounded, but he wasn’t embarrassed, he’s finally got you- and he wants you to know how badly he needs you.

he guides your head towards his aching cock, a hand moving to grip your hair tightly. he angles his length towards your shimmering lips, rubbing the tip all over, smearing his pre-cum along your gloss. a low, rumbling hum reverberates through his chest, quiet curses leaving his lips. he finally forces the fat head of his cock through your lips, simultaneously pushing your head down along the length of his cock. the sounds of you gagging fills his chest with a sense of pride, forcing you to take all of his thickness. it was so, so messy. saliva and creamy strips of cum dripped down the side of his cock, wetting your lips and pooling on top of his balls. he smiles at the sight, head lolling to the side, resting against a hard shoulder.

“my pretty girl, can’t believe ‘m finally havin’ you like this. i- mm i would worship you, if you’d let me. you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby, a walkin’ goddess. and your lips, fuck, those perfect lips.” his mind is all scrambled, the feeling of you sucking the soul out of him rendering him a blubbering mess, resulting in him pouring his heart out to you. smiling around his cock, you look up him, those sexy eyes of yours gazing into his- a silent reciprocation of his affection towards you. at that, your lips suction around him faster, tighter, coaxing him into filling your mouth with his load.

his breathing deepens, sweaty chest heaving. at this point, his suit is gone. he doesn’t bother hold back his moans, deep growls and grunts that make curious spiders stop and listen in as they pass his lab, opting to not investigate what the big boss is up to further. but you, you’re a fuckin’ sight between his legs. mascara running down your hot cheeks, gloss, spit, and cum on your chin, running down your neck and between your cleavage. he didn’t think you could get even more beautiful, but here you were.

“i’m ‘bout to cum, yeah? gonna fill that perfect mouth of y’rs with my all my cum, ‘n you’re gonna swallow it like the good girl i know you are, ok baby?” his hips buck frantically into your salacious mouth, holding the back of your neck tightly to keep you anchored at the base of his cock, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. his actions betrayed his sweet words, hands gently running over your face, wiping away stray tears as his cock abuses your poor throat. he catches a glimpse of you sliding a hand down the front of your pants, pushing aside your panties to rub against your sticky clit.

‘so cute’. he smiles, revelling in your soft whimpers and your shaky thighs- the squelch of the three fingers you plunged into you almost drowning out the slick gluck! gluck! gluck! of your throat. “fuck, baby, i can hear her from here. she’s so wet just from suckin’ me off, isn’t she?” your fingers speed up, his voice a sexy, deep drawl- lips quirked back up in a smirk, but it was short lived as he felt his balls tighten, orgasm threatening to take over him.

his leg bounces, your mouth was just so wet, so fuckin’ hot- he couldn’t take it anymore. he’s waited so long to feel you around him, to see you take him so beautifully. his body tenses, a low growl of your name leaving his plump lips. his cum spurts out in steady streams, your cheeks puffing out from the sheer amount he unloads into your mouth. it drips out the side of your lips, you struggle to hold it all in, letting it drip down your neck.

you choke on the liquid in your mouth, your orgasm squirting out onto the cold floor of his lab. he laughs breathlessly, he was so whipped for you. watching his pretty, little, angel cum so perfectly for him. his cock lets out a few more spurts on your cheeks, twitching again when you struggle to swallow his load down. he wipes away the cum on your cheeks, dipping his thumb back into your mouth to let you lick the remnants off. he smiles softly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back onto his lap, running hands up and down your back lovingly.

“s-so, d’you feel better now?”

“mm, think there’s just one more thing i need. spread your legs f’r me, baby.”

*por el amor de dios - for the love of god

-gonna take a cold shower now

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #astv miguel #cheonstapes #cheonstapes-films!🪷#cheonsshowreals 🤍

1K notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 8 months ago

Text

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

548 notes · View notes

crushmeeren · 1 month ago

Text

࿐ megumi’s turn! dabi’s version can be found here. again, this is short and sweet so I could focus on editing, but I hope the pacing wasn’t too fast. it’s also softer than I intended it to be, soooooooooo enjoy. :D

⇢ ⇢ ⋆ FEM READER ⋆

࿐ master list link ࿐ kinktober master list

⋆ ⬪ KINKS INCLUDED ࿐ hints of hunter/prey, stalking, mask kink, breath play, a mixture of degradation and praise, yandere (ish?) vibes.

⇢ ⇢ megumi art by saucy britt ! ⇢ ⇢ @sikuthealien

┊ ༝ ᭝ ༝ short summary ༝ ᭝ ༝ ┊ ‣ ‣ ‣ ‣ Megumi’s your boyfriend, but he’s a bit too obsessed with you. He starts pretending to stalk you at night while wearing an oni mask to drive you even further into his arms and see him as your protector. It backfires when Megumi doesn’t realize that you found out it was him almost immediately. Nevertheless, you’re going along with it because you’re just as delusional about him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Whenever someone asks you “hey, what do you love about Megumi?”, well, a plethora of amazing things fill your mind. You could, and would, write love poems about that man for days.

But, there are two quirks of his that you love to mention.

First off, Megumi is truly horrendous at keeping secrets. His apathetic attitude may not broadcast that, but he’s a gossip. Only those closest to him know that it’s his guilty pleasure.

Secondly, if you looked up the definition of obsessive personality, Megumi’s pretty face would be pictured there.

You’re not complaining, no, you’re so in love with your boyfriend it makes you sick. It’s just, for as long as you’ve known him, he’s never had the ability to keep a secret. Not even to save his life. You’re privy to much more restricted info involving Yuuji and Gojo than you ever thought you’d be.

To piggyback off that, he’s also constantly worrying about your safety. He checks in on you often, and he gets this stormy expression whenever you refuse to take his concern as seriously as he wants.

The pathway to and from your work is all but seared into your brain. You’ve walked it alone so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. So you’re not quite understanding why now, of all times, Megumi has deemed it unsafe. You’ve remained unscathed thus far.

And that’s why, when your sweet, obsessive boyfriend began stalking you on your way home from work late at night in an Oni mask and hoodie to cover his hair, you felt…. flattered. Were you creeped out? No. Should you have been? Probably. There’s no denying that the thrill of it gets your blood rushing, and the adrenaline high gives you goosebumps. You enjoy it, for lack of a better word.

Megumi, you assume, is more than likely trying to make a point. As misguided as it may be. When you first saw the masked man the night after yet another argument, you reasoned it was too much of a coincidence to ignore. At that time there was no proof connecting him to Megumi, but you had your suspicions.

When he asked about your walk home that very night, his forced nonchalance raised a red flag for you. Still, you didn’t mention you thought it was him. You did however snuggle close to him and rant about “your stalker”, begging him to protect you. Megumi sure as hell resembled a self satisfied cat when you did.

Afterwards, Megumi ended up pinning you to the bed with your knees touching your ears, whispering about how he’ll kill anyone who touches you. Now he does that each time you mention seeing “the stalker”, on your way home. A win - win, truly.

Granted, you were still wary about whether it really was him or not for the first few incidents. Then he made the mistake of hiding just around the corner of the alley you frequently pass and you caught a whiff of his extremely familiar cologne.

Not to mention you found the exact same Oni mask peaking out from under his bed a few days later. It looked as though he shoved it underneath in a frenzy, confident that it would suffice as a hiding place.

It didn’t.

You pretended you hadn’t seen it, waiting until Megumi went to get snacks from the kitchen before casually kicking it further under the bed and out of sight.

Safe to say, you’ve been allowing this to go on for much longer than you should have. It’s been almost an entire month. You’re curious to know if Megumi has any hunches that you’re aware it’s him, if only because you haven’t mentioned hide nor hair of filing a police report about it. Which would be the next logical step that any sane person would take.

In the back of your mind, you distantly wonder if you should be concerned that Megumi is so obsessed with you that he’s willing to go to such lengths to push you further into his arms.

You end up shrugging it off because you can’t judge him too harshly. You probably would’ve ended up doing something similar sooner or later if he hadn’t beaten you to the punch.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

Things come to head one night as you’re heading home.

The moon is bright, the stars are beautiful, but it does absolutely nothing to tame the trail of fire you’re leaving in your wake.

Work had been… enraging, to say the least. Your insufferable coworker had been on shift with you, and you’d seriously rather shove bamboo shoots under your nails than work with them.

They’re selfish, incompetent, a pick me, and you can’t fathom why your management keeps them on staff. Those motherfuckers.

After you had angrily tugged your coat on and gathered your things, you stormed out the door after having a rather heated conversation with your manager. You hadn’t checked your phone all night, and it completely slipped your mind to text Megumi when you left, as you usually did.

About halfway through your fuming journey the light of the street lamps bounce off of something shiny and it catches your eye. Your heart beat falters, head snapping towards the alleyway only to see a figure lurking in the shadows. Peering straight at you. The person is clothed in all black, hoodie securing their hair, but once you spy the Oni mask, you realize it’s Megumi. Again.

You roll your eyes, your only recently fading irritation sparking back to life. You exhale harshly through your nose, stuffing your hands further into your pockets and speed up. You are not in the mood to deal with this. The distance sound of sneakers scuffing the sidewalk as someone walks briskly has your fingers balling into fists.

Normally, the cold blooded thrill of being stalked switches your adrenaline into lust, leaving you drooling for Megumi by the time you get home. But currently it’s twisting into something ugly. The sensation of eyes constantly being locked on you has you desperately wanting to crawl out of your skin. It’s overwhelming, and not in a good way.

You speed up once more, jaw tightening to the point that your teeth may crack when Megumi matches your pace. You’re this close to breaking out into a jog as you turn the last corner to your block, but your ears start to twitch at the sudden absence of footsteps.

You whirl around ready to give your boyfriend a piece of your mind, but you freeze when you realize he’s gone. You grind your teeth in irritation because he obviously slipped away without you noticing. Clicking your tongue behind your teeth, you practically stomp past the last few houses toward your shared home.

Megumi better be ready to argue when he shows up.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

As soon as you get home you toss your stuff carelessly onto your bed and return back to the living room. Dropping down onto the couch, you sit stiffly, shoulders tense as you perch yourself on the edge.

A part of your brain scolds you, telling you that your boyfriend doesn’t necessarily deserve all the built up rage from the day. Megumi isn’t innocent though, and he does play a part in the chaotic mess you’ve created, so it’s obvious you need to talk to him.

It doesn’t take much longer for Megumi to show his face. The door creaks as it opens and closes, your palms starting to sweat the closer he gets. Megumi calls out to you in greeting, but the silence is deafening when you don’t bother to reply.

Megumi rounds the couch and freezes when he eyes your tense posture. His face is carefully blank, eyes flitting over your figure as he gingerly sits down next to you. You barely spare him a glance, Megumi’s brows pinching in concern as you return your stare to the TV in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” His tone is apprehensive as he rests a large palm on your knee, slender fingers squeezing reassuringly. You stiffen under the touch, unable to stop yourself from glaring hotly at him.

“Why the fuck have you been following me?” Your tone drips with venom, the slightest bit of guilt brewing when Megumi’s head jerks back as if you slapped him, lips parting and eyes widening.

Okay, so you definitely didn’t plan to get to straight into it, but evidently you can’t hold your tongue.

“That’s not, I mean —,” he starts to fumble over his words as he tries to come up with something convincing. His fingers dig into your knee and you sneer slightly, shifting to grip his wrist so tightly your knuckles turn white.

“Megumi,” you warn. “I know you’ve been following me. I found the Oni mask under your bed. Tell me why. Now,” you stress the last word and lock your heated gaze with his. His dark eyes flit back and forth across your face as he stays stiff for an ungodly amount of time. Just as the silence is becoming unbearable he wilts in his seat, sighing as his chin touches his chest.

Some of your fury fades when he lifts his head and looks at you with such sad eyes, a small frown on his mouth. Your hold on his bony wrist loosens considerably.

“I just,” he pauses, pursing his lips as he searches for the right words. “You make me feel, okay? Too much sometimes, and I get worried about your safety. I wanted you to see how dangerous it can be for you to be out there alone. I need you to need me, the same way I need you...” he mutters, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he averts his gaze.

All the fight drains out of you, chest welling up with a warmth so intense it burns the tips of your ears.

“Gumi,” you say softly, moving to tenderly cradle the side of his jaw. He leans into it, eyes hopeful as he reaches up to place his hand over yours. “I do need you. You’re the only one I trust to protect me. You didn’t have to stalk me to get your point across,” you say with slight amusement, resting your forehead on his.

Megumi sighs softly, lids lowering. “I wasn’t going to keep it up at first, but then… I started to like the thrill of hunting you down,” he admits, sparking the tension between you. The warmth in your belly turns you gooey as you process his confession.

You hesitate before answering shyly. “I…liked it too.” Megumi’s expression shifts into something more humorous, a faint smirk quirking his lips.

“Oh?” He teases. You bite your lower lip, trailing your fingers feather light down the side of his throat and his breath hitches.

“Yeah,” you whisper, catching Megumi staring at your mouth with a dark hunger. He smoothes his hand up to your inner thigh, inching his face even further into your personal bubble.

“I want you,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. You moan lowly, tilting your head to get the perfect angle. Soft lips meet yours slowly, repeatedly, and the slick noise of it makes your pussy ache to be stretched by his cock.

You make out with your boyfriend until you’re seriously debating crawling into his lap and riding him right here on the couch. Delicately, you place your hands on his chest, the soft t-shirt brushing your palms, and you push to break the kiss.

“Go get the mask, Megumi.”

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

It’s a rush to see who can get naked first.

Your clothes, and Megumi’s, are scattered along the floor of your bedroom. Megumi had eagerly pulled the mask from his back pack, and now you’re in bed spread out on your back, watching Megumi with bated breath as he slips it on.

Megumi has settled on his haunches between your thighs, adjusting the mask until it fits comfortably and covers his entire face. You have to bite your knuckles as he looms over you. He plants his hands on either side of your head while you stare up at him with stars in your eyes.

You’d practically begged him to make it rough, not wanting much, if any at all, foreplay involved.

You gently run your hands down the soft skin of Megumi’s taut stomach, fingers brushing over the thin patch of dark hair that leads to his cock. You wrap your fingers around his shaft, the decent weight of it against your palm turning you on just that much more. His hips twitch involuntarily when you squeeze playfully, slowly stroking as he moans your name.

Too soon he’s snatches your wrist away, causing you to pout up at him. He shakes his head and tugs your hand away from his dick.

“Turn over baby,” Megumi instructs, backing off enough to allow you to wiggle and shift freely until you’re flat on your belly. Your cheek squishes into the mattress, hands resting by your head, and your blood starts to sing when Megumi straddles the backs of your thighs.

The tingling sensation in your fingertips reminds you of the first time you had sex with Megumi, and it’s as if you’re experiencing that night all over again.

Your stomach clenches when a hard cock suddenly nestles against the swell of your ass. The smooth, warm skin dragging back and forth as Megumi rolls his hips for the friction.

“Are you gonna fuck me like this?” You ask excitedly. A sharp swat on the ass is your answer, a startled gasp ringing out as you fist the blanket.

“I never said you were allowed to speak. Bite your tongue unless I tell you otherwise, whore,” Megumi says coldly, spanking you once more to get his point across. You capture the tip of your tongue between your teeth and nod vigorously, your skin already warm to the touch and swelling.

The insult has your cheeks on fire from the inherent shame, but it feels incredible. Besides, you know he’ll be calling you a good girl soon enough.

Megumi shuffles down, rising up to his knees as he uses a thumb to spread your pussy open. It’s a slow press as he tries to work his cock inside you. His tip’s on the edge of popping in but then he slips, sliding down and bumping your clit instead. The jolt of sweet pleasure startles you, causing you to shove your face into the blanket and moan.

“Sorry,” Megumi snickers, but the bastard doesn’t carry an ounce of remorse in his voice.

He readjusts his angle, lining up his cock a bit better and then he’s sinking a quarter of the way into your tight pussy. It burns, you’re nowhere near wet enough to take him, and you think you could cum from the sensation alone.

He rocks his hips and steadily inches himself the rest of the way inside, using rolling motions until he’s pushed in to the hilt. Megumi decides to stay there, cock jerking and applying firm pressure to your cervix.

You hiss on your next inhale, a stab of pain making itself known. The feeling blends with the pleasure of being stretched so well and your pussy flutters involuntarily. Megumi gasps softly, supporting his weight with palms pushing against your upper back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight like this. You were made to take my cock,” Megumi praises, voice rising in pitch when you wiggle underneath him. You whine quietly in agreement, remembering to stay silent, and an approving hum comes from behind you.

Megumi looms over your back, fingers closing around your wrists to effectively pin you to the bed. He draws his hips back and snaps them forward powerfully, pelvis smacking loudly against your ass.

He builds up to a rough pace, the unyielding grasp on your wrist has your fingers going numb. Your boyfriend mercilessly pounds you into the mattress, cock pushing so deeply you swear you can feel him in your stomach. You cry out endlessly as overwhelming pleasure swells behind your bellybutton. You struggle to get free, but Megumi doesn’t allow you to budge.

If Megumi is making any noise, you can’t hear it over your own cries. Well, except for the few husky moans that spill unabashedly from his mouth before he can stop them. When you start to cum you shout his name so harshly into the sheets that it wrecks your voice. Your boyfriend curses hotly, slipping his cock free completely and flipping you onto your back before you can blink.

He pushes one thigh to your chest and shoves his cock back into you, his other hand latching around your throat as he leans in close.

“What the fuck did I say about speaking without permission?Are you deaf?” He snarls, the angry, distorted expression of the Oni mask becoming much more threatening in your fucked out state.

“I’m sorry,” you wheeze, both hands flying to grip his forearm.

Megumi clicks this tongue and squeezes hard briefly before shaking himself free of your hold.

“You’re sorry?” He sneers, pressing his palm to your face and covering the entirety of your mouth and nose. He completely cuts off your air and your eyes go wide, a burst of panic building in your chest. You can’t fucking breathe. “I’m going to teach you a lesson about listening to me. If you don’t want to pass out baby, you better cum on cock before you run out of air.”

You fist the sheets until you’re sure they’ll rip, eyes rolling back as Megumi fucks you into the mattress. The intensity of the situation and lack of oxygen fills your brain with molasses, ears ringing as your sole focus remains on cumming.

Mercifully, your pleasure starts to crest and peak into that familiar edge, the one that’s similar to the anticipation right before the big drop on a roller coaster. The smooth glide of Megumi’s cock continuously splitting you is more than enough to dangle you over the edge.

Your chest starts to heave, lungs burning as no air makes it way inside. You fumble with Megumi’s wrist, tugging desperately, but he whispers muffled encouragement through the covered mouth of the mask.

“C’mon, you can do it baby. You’re almost there, I can feel it. You’re such a good girl. Make that sweet pussy cum for me and I’ll let you breathe.”

The backs of your eyes start to sting, heart thumping so hard it pulsates throughout your entire body. Your vision swims and your thighs tense, Megumi’s nails biting into the sensitive skin on the underside of your thigh. White hot pleasure suddenly crashes into you, flowing like warm honey. The base of your skull digs into the mattress as you cum with a muffled scream.

Megumi immediately frees you and you gasp loudly, throat like sandpaper as you swallow oxygen the same way you drink water. The sensation of air filling your lungs drags your orgasm out ten fold and you start to push at Megumi’s chest when it gets overwhelming.

“Megumi,” you all but sob, pleading as you stare up at him with glazed eyes. He drops your thigh as he sits up, slipping his cock free with a hoarse groan as he strokes himself quickly. His lean body sags with relief as he cums, streaking your pussy and stomach with white.

He lets go of his still twitching cock, tip leaking pitifully onto the blankets, and pushes the mask off to throw it haphazardly aside. He pants harshly, cheeks scarlet as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair to keep it from sticking to his forehead. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to regain your bearings. You’re sure a headache is on the horizon as you rub your eyes with your knuckles.

The air in your room is humid and stuffy, the only noise being you and Megumi trying to catch your breath. Your boyfriend eventually slides off the bed to find his discarded shirt from earlier. You stay limp as he helps get you clean, Megumi opting to crawl up beside you and lay on his stomach afterwards.

He twists his head towards you and you mirror his position. Your entire being feels like jelly and you sigh contentedly when Megumi rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

“Are you alright?” Your voice is scratchy as the adrenaline wears off and sleep starts to seep into your limbs.

Megumi snorts. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one who’s half asleep.”

You punch his shoulder halfheartedly and he laughs. “Whatever, can we go to bed now?”

“As long as you promise to take my concerns more seriously.”

“Fine, only if you promise not to stalk me through the streets like a lunatic.” Your eyes drift shut as you speak.

Megumi huffs. “Deal.”

“Keep the mask though, gumi.” You crack open an eyelid to smile playfully at him. Megumi lets out a startled laugh, but he agrees not to throw it away. He snuggles in close and kisses the side of your cheek several times.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro smut #kinktober 2024 #kinktober #fushiguro megumi smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #fushiguro megumi #fushiguro x reader #jjk x you #jjk megumi

240 notes · View notes

vagabond-umlaut · 9 months ago

Text

hey, where is the pomegranate tree?

unstoppable force, aka kore, aka gojo, meets immovable object, aka hades, aka you— nothing can ever go wrong from this collision, trust me— n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader; hades and persephone retelling [with a twist ;))]; 1.2k wc; stubbornly persuasive gojo; the reader is js so tired and annoyed [and tired]; enemies to lovers vibes[??]; talks of marriage and children; gojo thinks you are a fool, he is the real clown here

▸ pls don't glare at me if there is more than one inaccuracy here, haha. anyways, the header is from pinterest, the divider is by @benkeibear and the characters used ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

▸ update: this fic is now part of a series!!! wreaths of asphodel 😊😊

"you shall spend the rest of your days in tears."

you're foolish; woefully so, gojo thinks, carefully observing you from his place on the chaise lounge, smiling while you continue seething, "and there will be no one who can save you. neither a hero nor a god. neither demeter nor zeus. no. one."

"but why do you think i will need saving, my rose?" the endearment rolls off his tongue like honey, the taste sweetening at the way your pretty lips dip into a deeper frown, "you're not a monster, are you?"

"no!" the defensive reply comes in less than a beat. though the words following it sound a tad less bold; it seems as if you're trying to make yourself believe and not scare him.

"i'm someone far fiercer— hades. the goddess of the dead. the queen of the underworld— and the cause for your misery should you choose to vex me any further."

"aw, no," gojo cries, decidedly making a show by slapping a hand over his eyes and faking a sniffle, "why must the only woman i want as my wife see me as an annoyance?"

then lets his hand drop down to the cushion, willing his eyes to well over with pitiful moisture. "as the god of life, i've only ever given and given– be it grains or fruits or vegetables or flowers– without asking anything in return— yet the first and only time i ask..."

he doesn't bother finishing his sentence, choosing to sob to add to the tragic atmosphere— though that doesn't mean he doesn't note the war of emotions on your face:

pity, confusion, anger, again confusion— you're so easy to read, to steer. very foolish, really.

"you'll not like living here," you eventually break the silence hanging within the room. your voice is much softer now; the god wonders if you sing. if you do, the muses will certainly be put to shame... "your days will be spent in utter boredom and gloom and tears–"

"– and no one can come to my aid then: yes, thank you," he interrupts you, more than a little tired, "you've driven the points too well into my head– so much so that i'm surprised there isn't a gaping hole in there, oozing blood and my brains. but why must you think i'll need rescue, huh??"

if a smidge of force escapes into his words, gojo decides not to pay it any mind— though only until he notices the small flinch you give– his insides twist and torment, quite inexplicably, thereafter.

"okay, look," he says, getting up from his slouch to move near you, but stops on catching the warning glint in your eyes.

"first of all, i'm not some damsel in distress being whisked away in a chariot here– i came here by own volition. and i'm offering my mind, body, heart, soul– the special package that i am, in fewer words– to you, by my own volition. why shall i want anyone to rescue me then?"

"besides," he proceeds to add, allowing an easy smirk to form on his face, "you're just the cute little goddess of the dead– not at all scary like your brother used to be; though i guess you try to imitate him in your glares, don't you? sukuna was quite notori—"

"don't you dare utter my brother's name, foul olympian," a quiet growl slashes gojo's comment, sending it plummetting to the ground— and making him understand why you, the inconspicuous, sheltered sister of the vicious former holder of the name 'hades', was given the crown, in the aftermath of your brother's banishment– instead of the several more well-known candidates...

"i apologise," gojo offers in the very next instant, making it as genuine as he can, "i never meant to upset or offend you. i'm sorry if i did."

you just stare at him for a beat, gojo watches, before your shoulders lift then fall in a sigh. the fire burning in your aura abates by a pinch.

sighing once more, you finally break your silence, "It's okay, and um– suppose i too should apologise. you might be an olympian but you're not as foul as them, no. please forgive me for calling you so."

"no problem, my rose," the god is quick to accept your words with a wave of his hand and a beam, further widening when he notices the sliver of smile on your countenance, "but does this mean i appeal to your tastes? i mean, you called me 'not as foul as them', didn't you?? did you just accept my hand in marriage, then???"

"no, i didn't..." your subtle smile disappears swifter than it appeared. a half of gojo's floral crown, quite inexplicably, wilts on the table before. he watches your eyes fall to it, then snap up to meet his.

"do you love me?"

not yet, but he thinks he can. you might be an idiot but you certainly aren't an unlovable idiot— and one voice in his mind murmurs, those precious, innocent looks of yours aren't even the main reasons why...

the god shoots back a languid smile. "if you want to see me in love with you, so be it."

"that's neither 'yes' nor 'no'," you point out, frowning, before vaulting your second query of the evening, "if we get married, do you want to have children?"

it won't be very unfavourable, if you both do... with the vivid colour of your eyes, or the adorable shape of your nose, or the radiance of your skin, or the— "if you want, i shall be happy to assist," he ekes out with a meaningful wink, albeit he doubts how much of it reaches you.

you're very foolish, after all... and no– it's not because of the awkward way he says it– no! not in the slightest! he wasn't fumbling at all!

you wrap the shawl tighter around your shoulders but don't move any further away, gojo notes. the same way he does the slight tint in your cheeks when you roll your eyes with a scoff.

"you're unbelievable, kore. truly, terribly unbelievable." you press the pads of your thumbs over your forehead before releasing it, gaze an unprecedented mark of sharp when it settles on his face.

"is there nothing you want from our union, eh? i refuse to believe you wish to marry me without any demands, as if on a mere whim– but if it is so, i ought to warn you, kore: my answer is and will always be one firm 'no'."

your words mustn't ignite this odd restlessness in him. they certainly mustn't— still, gojo finds his chest tight and the air heavy as he grins back and says, "i only want to be your husband, your majesty... but if that is too much for you right now–"

the stretch on his lips simmers down to something smaller. yet truer.

"i want you to call me by my name. my real name. can you do that, my rose?"

you don't say anything in response for a long while. so long, in fact, it makes the god wonder if you are ever going to reply to his request.

perhaps not, he thinks quite a bit down-spirited when you suddenly turn on your heel and with a swish of your long shawl, stride out the rooms– o-oh.

you stop just as abruptly at the threshold. a complicated grin shining on your face as you twist to look at him over your shoulder then say:

"good night, gojo satoru. pray the ghosts prowling these halls don't eat you up ere dawn."

you're gone not even few feet away from the door, before gojo falls face-first into the bed, the entire room suddenly erupting into thousands of roses in all colors ever seen. [lolol, he is such a loser for you! xD]

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #kit posts 📝

658 notes · View notes

starsofjewels · 2 months ago

Note

GREETINGS!! was wondering if you feel up for it if you could do a tyrion x autistic reader? idk how you could make autism fit into the GoT world but I always feel like an outsider even in the real world and i feel tyrion would be one of the few who'd actually be accepting and not judgemental

A Kitty Cat in the Lion’s Den

Tyrion Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

(Feat.) Tywin Lannister x Autistic! Lannister! Reader

CONTENT: Autistic meltdown, small! Mention of blood/ injury, self-deprecation, the Lannisters are their own warning

Word count: 1.5k (lil pookie bear)

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Hi, beautiful. I absolutely loved this request !! This was only semi triggering to write, and I hope you like it. <3

I’ve just started back at college, so the drip might be dry (not that it wasn’t to begin with). I may or may not have published this during a Free Study period…

This is proof I don’t just write Gregor Clegane fics. But I do love big squishy man and his cock.

I think I probably need to make a masterlist..

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

(A teeny PSA before we begin- I, unsurprisingly given the shit I upload on here, am autistic. I’ve struggled with it my whole life, and this is an interpretation of my own experience with autism. ASD is, as the name suggests, a spectrum, so this can’t really be a generalised fic. I put my own personal experiences with my condition into this, so if you’re also autistic/ otherwise neurodivergent and this doesn’t fit your vibes, that’s why. I can’t really explain it any other way, so yeah, here you go.)

Your entire life has served as a reminder that, whether by your own fault or some cruel will of the Gods, you are not wanted. You are the outsider, the youngest Lannister, not beautiful enough to marry off young and, decidedly, not male. Lord Tywin is consistently busy with his duties as the Hand, Tyrion hides with his wines and his whores, and Jaime has his own place in the Red Keep. You are forced to sit with your sister and her ladies, who talk too loudly and prattle on about nonsense.

Cersei, you have long established, does not like you. You aren’t really sure anyone likes you, in the traditional sense, but you know that your sister only keeps you around for fear of Tywin’s wrath. There is something in the back of your mind that remembers a younger, softer Cersei putting you in her lap, of brushing your hair and putting it in gold bows. But, that was before. Before you could walk or talk properly, before you spouted random facts on unasked for topics, before she realised you were different.

Everyone knows you are different, and no one can explain why. Not even you. All they know is to stay away from you, all they know is they’ll never understand how your little mind works.

So, you sit as nicely as you can on the outside of Cersei’s circle of ladies, and you try to focus on your sewing. You don’t like sewing, but it’s what all of the noblewomen do to pass the time, and all you want is to fit in.

“Your sewing is coming on well, my lady.”

The septa tilts your sewing slightly to look at it just a little more. It’s supposed to be a gift for your father, and it is not good. You see every uneven stitch, all of the oddities and bumps in your work that make it so you can hardly look at it. You hate it, and you hate that you can’t even sew properly.

“The stitching is all wrong…”

She takes your hands as you try, again, to pick out your newest stitch, a learned behaviour with you. Despite being with you near your whole life, since you weaned off of your nurse, you aren’t sure the septa completely understands your fascination of perfection,

“It is fine,” Her voice is soft, but you can feel her disappointment, “you are still learning, my lady, some mistakes are natural. You do not need to pull it apart- again.”

You jump when Cersei’s ladies giggle at some joke you haven’t heard, the woman beside you takes your hand, and you are reminded why you keep her so close. At least, in some way, she understands what you like and what upsets you.

Tea is served for the ladies. They give you what Cersei likes, what her ladies eat, green and red things that squish and squelch in your mouth and taste like you’ve eaten rags. And the queen sees you push them around your plate, and scoffs.

“At least try it, sister,” She sips from her wine. You feel each of her noblewomen shift, in turn, to look at you, “a Lannister lady can’t just survive off of the children’s food you eat, we can’t all eat nothing but cakes and plain bread all day.”

But you don’t, and you starve. Tywin will get you something later, you’re sure of it, as he sighs, and gently suggests you’ll need a more varied diet if you’re to marry a good husband.

The women’s giggles practically turn to cackles, which do not stop for what feels like hours. You wish they’d stop, or that you could understand what they find so utterly hilarious, so at least you may join their hysteria. You’ve put your sewing down in your lap, and you fiddle with your hair. The sept doesn’t like that, she guides your work back into your hands.

“Your father doesn’t like it if you mess your hair, sweet girl, you know that,” Her hands find your hair, carefully untangling the knots you’ve made, “try a few more stitches.”

And then, inevitably, it happens. You prick your finger on your needle, and a soft ruby comes from your noble, incomprehensible skin.

Throwing your project to the ground, you rush off as fast as your legs can manage. No one comes to find you.

You are long practised with the subtle art of trying not to cry. You pace back and forth, away from anything and everything, your hands in your hair as you do. The tears in your eyes hurt, they make you tired, and only add to your humiliation. You can do nothing right, why can you do nothing right?

You think of your sister, of perfect, beautiful, poised Cersei- She has a gaggle of women to do her bidding she is loved, and desires and you doubt she paces the halls trying not to cry. She is the lion queen, and you are her kitty-cat of a sister.

And then, you hear your name called. Followed by hurried footsteps toward you. Tyrion takes your hands in his, but you cannot even look at him.

“Has someone upset you? Cersei?”

All you can do is give him whines in response. You feel a sob bubbling in your throat, and you cannot give him the satisfaction of seeing you weak.

“Tell me.”

So you look down, you watch his eyes change from confusion, to the pity you are so used to seeing. But he is your older brother, and you know he won’t run back to Cersei, like Jaime would.

It comes in one, huge splurge, as tears fall against your skin and ruin the pretty powders your maids spent so long putting on you this morning,

“I- Was making a gift for Father-” You gasp, “And they didn’t give me anything to eat, and- and the sewing was terrible, but Septa is lying and saying it’s good and-” Another. “And I cut myself!”

His arms wrap around you, and he puts his head against you. Though much smaller than you, it offers greater comfort than he knows it does. All you can do is sob. You feel like a child.

No words are spoken as he takes you down to the kitchens, and puts you at the staff table. You are given something you eat with relish, and get a plate of pudding for your effort. There is no need for you to have any medical attention for your injury, but he has it wrapped anyway. A psychological comfort, if nothing else.

Tyrion helps you into bed, letting you reach out for the rag dolls your sister claims you’re too old for. You want your father, you want him to go and tell off Cersei, but you have your brother instead, and he at least semi-understands what it’s like to be different.

“I’m sorry,” you turn and look up at him,

“Sorry?”

He stands, walking to your window to look out at the courtyard below.

“When you look at me, what do you see?”

Tyrion is going somewhere with this, you know that much, but what, you are left wondering,

“I see… my brother.”

“Yes, you do. But the world? What does the world see? They see a drunk, lustful little man with a lion on his chest he doesn’t deserve.”

Something in you knows that it’s true. Tyrion is nothing more than his condition to the eyes of most in the Keep, most of the kingdom.

“You, you look like a Lannister. Your brokenness is inside. And I wish I could understand it.”

“It’s alright-” You sit up, clutching your doll, “It’s just… what it is. I have you, I have Father.”

Tyrion almost scoffs, he comes back from the window, passing you your water,

“Yes, you get Father, but that’s because you are utterly adorable.”

“I am adorable, aren’t I?”

“And humble, it appears.”

When Tyrion leaves, he kisses your forehead, and you know he is going to tell Father. You are the one thing they share something of a common interest in, and you suspect Tywin will make an appearance at some point. You’re right, of course.

It is Tywin’s heartbeat you listen to to calm yourself down for sleep. Your father strokes your hair, half-dozing himself. A soft, sweet moment that you are reminded Tyrion doesn’t have the privilege of.

Cersei is no longer allowed to be your main caretaker, you spend your afternoons out in the gardens, or sit entertaining yourself in Tywin’s solar. Tyrion takes you on walks, and there is something of a peaceful normality brought about.

You are still terribly disappointed in how Tywin’s gift turns out, it looks like a child made it, and when you become obviously quite upset over the manner, you have the Old Lion and his younger son to calm you. He loves it, he assures you, and Tyrion is so enamoured by it he requests his own. You know they are simply making you feel better, but you let it happen anyway.

And, perhaps, life is not so bad after all.

#game of thrones #got #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #game of thrones x y/n #tyrion lannister x reader #tywin lannister x reader #lannister!reader #autistic!reader #request #requested #thanks anon!

187 notes · View notes

hxney-lemcn · 22 days ago

Text

Don't Be a Stranger — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: parties were the last thing you wanted to attended, especially when your friend ditches you instantly. She makes it up to you by finding you a cute date.

tw: none that I can think of

a/n: haha, so I said I was unmotivated, and then thought of this. I actually meant uninspired. Unfortunately, I am uninspired once more 😔

wc: 1.4k

Master List

It was so loud that the entire room felt like it was vibrating around you. The only lights were dark blue and red leds that made it hard to see much of anything. People were dancing…no, more just grinding and jumping against each other. You felt completely out of place, leaning against a wall and clutching your soda like your life depends on it. You were scrunched in, avoiding the drunken young adults that stumbled past.

Why were you at a party that you didn’t even wanna be at? Well, your friend dragged you, begging you to come with so she wasn’t alone. One second she was by your side grabbing your sleeve, the next she was hanging off the arm of some pretty girl giggling and batting her eyelashes. You didn’t mind that she was flirting with someone, all power to her, but that meant you were left alone in a setting you had no idea how to traverse. Glancing at your phone for the hundredth time that night, you felt your soul leave your body. No text from your friend, and you had no idea how long this party was gonna last. Sure, you could just leave, but then you’d feel like an asshole if your friend texted you asking for help or to bring her home. So, like the loyal friend you were, you continued to awkwardly stand there, trying to be invisible and sip your drink.

“This is my friend,” You heard your friend say your name. Looking up you saw her, the woman she was flirting with, and a guy approaching you. “They may be a little awkward but they’re the nicest person ever, I swear. Not to mention single.” You watched on, embarrassed at your friend, Ingrid’s introduction of you as she winked at the guy who chuckled awkwardly.

“Uh, hello,” You said, but you realized you hadn’t spoken loud enough, so you repeated yourself in a louder tone.

“Hey,” The pretty lady waved, a warm smile on her face. “I’m Alaina.”

“Daisuke,” The guy nodded. You nodded back, an awkward smile lining your lips. You were never good at talking to others, not to mention at a party of all places. So, to try and ignore the lull in the conversation you took another sip of your drink, watching as Ingrid and Alaina started talking to each other animatedly, leaving you and Daisuke to stand awkwardly.

“This doesn’t seem to be your vibe,” Daisuke was the first to break the silence between you (not that it was very quiet with the music making your teeth rattle).

Blinking up at him, you tilted your head, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Raising his hands defensively, he stammered, “I-it's not a bad thing! I just mean you seem like you’d rather be anywhere but here right now.”

“You’re not wrong,” You agreed, nodding your head. “I’m only here ‘cus of Ingrid.” Daisuke nodded, the red and blue lighting shining nicely across his features. Wait, what the hell were you thinking? No, it's fine, its normal to find someone attractive.

“Wanna go outside?” He asked, thumb pointing to the front door.

“Lead the way.”

As the two of you inched your way towards the door, you didn’t miss the sly grin Ingrid sent your way. You swiftly faced Daisuke’s back instead, trying not to get lost in the sweaty bodies that constantly bumped into you. It got so bad, you ended up grabbing the back of his shirt. As the two of you exited the house the cool air soothed you, letting out a sigh of relief, you let go of Daisuke’s shirt, muscles slowly relaxing. You hadn’t realized how tense you were.

“You really don’t like parties, huh?” Daisuke chuckled, voice softer now that the music had dulled.

“Not really,” You chuckled back, scratching the back of your neck. Thankfully, the front yard didn’t have many people, and the porch held a porch swing, which the two of you sat on.

“So, you like these things?” You asked, trying your hardest to keep the conversation going. You normally don't put this much effort when talking to a stranger, but Daisuke seemed nice, and the fact that he was pretty helped. Ingrid really knew your type.

Daisuke shrugged, “Yeah, it's fun meeting new people and letting loose.”

Then the cursed silence fell over you two, but this time it wasn’t as awkward. You stared up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle and the moon shine…well as best as you could with the light pollution, but it was still there. You both swayed gently on the swing, the party music thumping softly behind you. This was a lot better than what you were doing before.

Just as you were about to fully space out, Daisuke stole your attention once more, “So, what do you usually like to do?”

Looking back at the brunette, you ignored the way your insides twisted at the fact he was already looking at you, answering, “Going to a cafe or the library. Maybe a walk in the park if I’m feeling particularly motivated.” “Yeah, I can see that,” He nodded, a boyish grin on his lips. “Lemme guess, you go to college?”

Gaping like a fish out of water, you didn’t like how easily he was reading you, “What gives you that impression?”

“You’re too smart to be partying,” He shrugged, leaning back.

“That’s a stereotype,” You pouted. “Ingrid is a perfect example. We go to college together and she’s a total partier.”

“Okay, fair point,” Daisuke conceded. “If you hate parties so much why did you let her drag you here?”

“Didn’t want her going alone,” You shrugged. “I don’t trust people at these things.”

“You shouldn't,” Daisuke agreed with a sigh. “As much as I love a good party, even I know not everyone has the best of intentions.”

“Is Alaina your friend?” You questioned wanting to get a bit more info on the mysterious girl that had caught your friend's attention.

“Kinda,” He shook his hand in a so-so motion. “I see her at a lot of these parties. Seems like a good chick.” You nodded, messing with the hem of your shirt.

“Soooo,” He drew the word out, trying to act nonchalant but you could tell he seemed nervous. “What would you say to going out sometime. We could go to a cafe…or the library if that's more your speed. Or we could head to a park for a walk, I’m not picky.”

Was…was he offering what you thought he was? You felt your stomach tie up in knots, face warming and brain frying. You were not prepared for this. A cute guy was interested in you? Maybe you were getting ahead of yourself, after all, it wasn’t every day a stranger wanted to hang out with you.

“That…that sounds nice,” You muttered, your confidence completely shattered. Your fidgeting grew worse as you started messing with the collar of your shirt.

“Cool, cool,” Daisuke nodded. Outside, he looked nonchalant (with a mix of nerves), on the inside he was having a full blown meltdown. You, your awkwardness endearing and your kindness charming. You, whose banter with him flowed naturally, opened up to him almost immediately. You didn’t seem too awkward as long as you had a bit of a push, and luckily for him he was extroverted enough to get you out of your shell. “C-could I get your number, or socials or something so we can plan it out?” He stuttered, cheeks warming, eyes glancing away.

“Oh, yeah,” You nodded, taking out your phone. Opening a new contact, you handed him your phone, letting him punch his number in before sending a quick text stating your name. “Did it go through?” You asked, looking over to him as he took out his phone.

“Yeah,” He nodded, biting his lip as his grin widened. Sure, he’s met lots of attractive people, having a few drunk makeouts under his belt, but this felt different. A lot different. You both were sober…well he was a bit tipsy, but just enough to give him a little boost, but that meant that this was more real than what he’s used to. Not to mention he found you cute, and your friend, Ingrid, seemed to be right, you were really nice (so far). He hadn’t had many crushes, never having had a serious relationship, but imagining going on a date with you to a cute cafe or a walk in the park, wasn’t that just the most romantic thing ever? At least Daisuke thought so.

“So…it's a date?” He asked, watching you with eager eyes. Shrinking into yourself, you felt yourself fluster, avoiding his eyes like the plague. “Yeah,” You nodded shyly. “It's a date.”

#mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #x reader

134 notes · View notes

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 15 days ago

Text

sweet dreams

pairing: james sunderland x reader? (written in third person pov, v ambiguous description of nameless woman)

cws/tags: smut, p in v, cheating? or is it?, not proofread, weird vibes and a little dark ig, but it's just the mood of the game

summary: james re-enters heaven's night and finds a woman who seems to remember him. he does not remember her. basically if maria successfully seduced him except it's not maria?

a/n: what is going on in this fic? idk

wc: 1.4k

Mary’s body lies cold in the backseat despite the blanket covering her. He will not find her in the gardens, the old apartment, or any hotel room. Only in a videotape in which she turns to static before it ends.

The only warmth he has is the jacket he wears. Until he returns to Heaven’s Night. A certain familiarity struck him when he entered the building for the first time. Maybe it’s the stench of liquor, drawing him toward another reality, one void of grief. Maybe it’s the neon lights, the metal pole, a discarded bra. Maybe he’s been here before. The woman sitting at the bar looks at him as if he has.

“James,” she says with an inviting smile.

“How do you know my name?” he asks, taking cautious, yet steady steps in her direction.

“How does anyone know anyone else’s name?”

“Is that a riddle?”

“No, that was just a question. I’m not trying to trick you, James. I learned your name when you introduced yourself to me.”

“I don’t remember doing that. I don’t remember meeting you at all.”

“You’ve forgotten me already?” Her expression drops, every part of her face is disappointed.

“I’m sorry. I’m just going through a lot right now. Don’t take it personally.” He finds himself reaching out his hand and placing it on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

“Let’s start over,” he suggests.

She nods and pulls herself together.

He holds out his hand, and she takes it into her own. Her hands are soft minus the sharp tips of her acrylic nails that tickle his skin.

“You’re cold,” she remarks, and he cannot decide if her pout pities or mocks him.

“No, I’m James,” he says, forcing the creases of his lips to turn upwards into something resembling a smile. “Remember?”

“Of course,” she says with a breathy giggle.

“Now, how about you tell me your name?”

“You know people like me don’t give out our real names, don’t you?”

People like you… it takes him a moment to realize what she means: sex workers.

“Oh. That’s right. But I’m guessing you have an alias or something.”

“I’ve been called many names. ‘Angel’ when I’m here at Heaven’s Night, ‘Kitty’ at The Catwalk, ‘Jade’ at Jewels, ‘Baby’ by some former lovers. Call me whatever you like.”

Choosing someone else’s name was not something he’d prepared for and it leaves him stumped for a moment.

“Don’t overthink it,” she says cupping his cheek with her hand. “As long as it’s not Mary…”

“Why not Mary?” He flinches at the sound of her name.

She pretends like she didn’t hear him, and pays no mind to his nerves, shrugging them off as she leads him to a seat in front of the stage.

He follows her, eyes stuck on her curves. He startles when she pushes him onto the loveseat.

“James, baby,” she says, her voice softer, but just as sultry. “Why are you so nervous? You want this, don’t you?”

“I just feel like I shouldn’t, that’s all.”

“Your mind is playing tricks on you, then. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to see what a woman has to offer. It’s like window shopping, there’s no harm in looking.”

Before he can say anything else she finds a boombox in the corner and sets it up - in doing so, she leans over and reveals a tiny strip of lace underneath her skirt.

James tries to quickly adjust his pants as she’s turned away from him, but she must know he’s hard. What’s the point in pretending?

When she steps onto the stage, she needs no introduction, only the opening synth of Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This) to lead her up the short set of stairs before she walks around the pole, prepared to do tricks that James’ imagination couldn’t conjure up even if he begged it to. But despite his amazement at the way her body bends, even more so when her clothes begin to disappear, it’s the moment she sits at the front of the stage and spreads her legs, giving him a better view of the red lace thong he got a peek at earlier, that really gets him going.

He didn’t know he was hungry until he was starving.

The music doesn’t stop, the cassette runs its course. The scantily-clad woman straddles James’ lap, just hovering but close enough to feel the warmth emanate from her body.

“I know I said it’s just looking, but there wouldn’t really be any harm in touching me, would there?”

She takes his hands in hers and places them on her chest.

He can feel her tits, her skin, her heartbeat. She’s so warm, and real, and alive. There is the childlike urge to squeeze them, to hold and let go, make them bounce in front of his eyes, but instead, he slides his hands down her waist to her hips, sitting her firmly in his lap.

“You’re so warm,” he says without thinking.

“I’ll be cold soon if you leave me like this,” she says. Then, leans down to whisper in his ear, “Take off your clothes.”

When he asks, “are you sure?” it stumbles out of his mouth and lands with a groan as she peppers kisses down his neck.

She only hums in response. He removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt so her mouth can reach further – to his collarbone, while her hands travel to his poorly-hidden erection.

She looks up at him and bats her eyelashes before going any further. It’s her way of asking permission.

“I guess… as long as we don’t go too far…”

“We’ll just get naked, maybe even kiss, nothing more,” she says.

So, he helps her get his pants off and she slips off her barely-there panties.

He feels alive for the first time in years when her warm body touches his, skin-to-skin.

He doesn’t protest when she kisses him, he closes his eyes and lets himself feel something other than dread for once.

She surely feels his need prodding at her core, but she must feel his guilt as well because she assures him, “If it slips in by accident, then, it’s nobody’s fault, right?”

“Right,” he says, completely under her spell, nodding along.

Of course there are no accidents. This is a mistake, not an accident. James knows this, but when she repositions her hips, he lets her wet heat envelope his cock.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…” she says, a tiny grin peeking through her faux-apology.

“It’s okay, I’ll just pull out,” he says. And slowly, with a grunt, he does.

He keeps a tight grip on her hips so he can guide her back to him. “You can sit back down now,” he says, with his cock ready to enter her again.

“We’ll do better this time,” she says, rubbing her folds teasingly along his shaft before gripping it and sliding it inside her.

“Sorry, it just, you know, slipped in,” he says, almost believing his own lies.

“But it’s only the tip. It barely even counts, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” The music covers up his heavy breathing and her soft moans. But James makes sure she can hear him when he says, “You’re so wet, it’s only natural for it to slide right in.” He fills her in one thrust and it finally drags a long-held back groan from him.

They can’t make more silly excuses when they’re both breathless as she bounces up and down on his cock at a steadily increasing pace. He holds her like he fears he’ll lose her and buries his face in her neck as if muffling any moans would take away any of the guilt.

But he’s shameless when he asks if he can cum inside her, and she’s quick to say, ‘yes’.

Though he’s as warm as ever, he shudders through his climax. After being pent-up for so long, he has a dizzyingly intense orgasm. What keeps him grounded is each squeeze of her walls around him and the sting of her nails digging into his skin as she cums at the same time he does.

The guilt returns along with confusion when she stands back up to get dressed. He follows her lead, but once his shirt is halfway-buttoned, he freezes, looking over at her for some sort of explanation, some sort of direction.

“What?” she asks, brushing off her skirt as she sits down at the bar.

“Nothing. I just- I don’t think we should’ve done that.”

“Don’t feel guilty, James. You said you were looking for someone, and you found someone.”

“No, I meant I was looking for-”

“Love? Comfort? Absolution?” She laughs differently now. “You won’t get those here.”

“No, for my wife…”

“Mary?”

“Yeah, do you know her?”

“Not anymore.”

Like everything else, she is swallowed up by the fog.

#james sunderland x reader #james sunderland #silent hill fanfic #james sunderland smut

128 notes · View notes

kaces-graham-crackers · 2 months ago

Text

Stirring the Quiet - Sweet Mistakes

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: In the bustling streets of Hollywood, The Daily Grind café offers solace to those seeking peace—famous or not. Y/N, co-owner of the cozy shop, wasn't expecting a masked Jenna Ortega, a regular, hiding in plain sight. Is it just you, or did the spilled sugar not turn out to be the only thing that sweetened your day?

Word Count: 1.1k

The smell of espresso hit me like a warm hug the second I opened the door to The Daily Grind. We'd only been open for three weeks, but the place already felt like my second home. Wilma, my best friend and now business partner, had really nailed it with the cozy vibe— mix of warm lighting and cushy chairs that practically begged you to sit down and spill your deepest secrets into a cup of coffee. We were doing pretty well for ourselves. A lot of it had to do with how we ran things. We prided ourselves on being a low-key spot where even the biggesr stars could come in and out without anyone batting an eye. No paparazzi, No instagram Stans, just people famous—or not trying to enjoy their coffee.

We've had a few people challenge our "No photos, videos, or interrupting other customers of any caliber." rule—a sign clearly displayed at the top of the menu and outside the café. The moment a camera was raised, we'd calmly walk over and politely ask them to leave. If that didn't work, we had a quiet agreement with the boutique's security guard next door—one glare from him, and they usually scurried off. Our café was a sanctuary, and no one would ruin that for our customers. After all, our motto was "We serve coffee, not fame. Take a sip." Today had been like any other day: customers trickling in, ordering their usual, and leaving with smiles. But something was different tonight. Maybe it was the way the door chimed a little softer than usual or the quick sound of shuffling footsteps. I didn't look up right away, as I was too busy balancing a stack of to-go cups while trying not to trip over that corner of the rug that always seemed to curl up, which, let's be honest, was my usual struggle. But I felt it—a shift in the atmosphere. Someone was trying way too hard not to be noticed. I peeked over my shoulder just in time to catch a figure in a hoodie, sunglasses, and a face mask slipping into the booth in the back corner.

I chuckled lightly, nearly knocking over the cups I had stacked. Of course, someone who tried not to stand out only made them stand out more. But hey, this was Hollywood; people like to stay incognito. I walked up beside Wilma as she finished giving a customer their order. She was also watching the spectacle; Wilma leaned in, wiping her hands on a towel. "That hoodie's been here three times this week. Any hunch who it could be?" We, of course, leave celebrities alone here, but we like to talk between ourselves to try and figure out who it is. I shake my head. "No, but they're definitely someone. No one hides like that unless they're trying not to be recognized." Wilma smirked. "Duh—You can tell by how they keep looking over their shoulder." Our eyes met, and she gave me a knowing look. Her smirk grew into a giant grin. "Your turn, mascot," she said, tossing her towel over her shoulder as she walked away. I blinked, confused. "Wait, what? What is that supposed to mean?" She stopped briefly. "Maybe you'll have better luck talking to them. After all, you are the people's favorite barista and a great icebreaker. She looks anxious, so work your little charisma magic." And with that, she disappeared into the back, leaving me staring at the mysterious figure, wondering how I'd gotten roped into this.

As I walked over, I flipped to a new page in my notepad and repeated my mantra when serving customers: Treat everyone the same, whether they're the guy from down the street or some A-lister hiding from the world. No fuss, no fanfare. I tried to stay calm not to scare them out of the café. There was no need to be weird or awkward about it I'm just going to—oh. As I slid up to the table, I managed to knock over the sugar container. Smooth, Y/N. Real smooth. With a quick glance, I crouched down to pick it up, hoping I hadn't drawn attention to either of us. When I stood back up, the figure in the hoodie had their head down, but I could feel them watching me. Great, now I spooked them. "Uh, sorry about that," I chuckled nervously, brushing the sugar off my apron. "That usually only happens on Wednesdays, more than I'd like to admit." A soft giggle escaped from under the mask. Before I could attempt to piece the giggle to a voice she pulled down her mask just enough for me to see her face.

Jenna Ortega.

I blinked, not sure why my brain of all times decided to short-circuit now.

Jenna—freakin'—Ortega was sitting in my café, laughing at my stupid joke.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've seen worse." I swallowed, trying to play it cool, even though my hands were suddenly very sweaty. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I wasn't expecting..." I trailed off, realizing how dumb I sounded. I mean, who was I expecting? Jenna looked around cautiously, lowering her mask completely once she realized no one had recognized her. "I just...needed to get away for a bit. You guys are pretty discreet." I nodded, my heart still racing. "Yeah, absolutely. This is a judgment-free zone. No one here will treat you like, you know...you." A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and I tried not to stare. "Good. I could use a place like that right now." "Well, you found it," I said, sending her a warm smile. "Is the other barista not here today?" she asked, fumbling with the strings of her hoodie. "Wilma? Yeah, she's hiding in the back. I can go get her if you'd like?" she softly cleared her throat, "No, that's alright, she just knows my usual." "Well, I promise not to screw it up." I smiled, flipping back to a blank notepad page. "Alright, I'll hold you to that. I'll have an iced coffee with caramel and whipped cream." She smiled back at me. I nodded, jotting it down and turning back to the counter. "Coming right up." As I worked on her drink, I couldn't help but glance back over. There she was, sitting quietly, reading a book with her headphones around her neck, looking a lot more calm. Just another person needing some space and quiet in a world of phones, lights, and cameras 24/7. It felt great that our little café was something special for people. Not just because of the stars who might show up but because we somehow created a space where people could just be. And that? That was worth all the spilled sugar in the world.

#jenna ortega x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x y/n #wednesday addams x fem reader #tara carpenter x female reader #slow-burn

307 notes · View notes

oceandolores · 3 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | chapter 11

dbf!joel miller x female reader

"I don't care where as long as you're with me."

summary: you finally feel like yourself again.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

CHAPTER 11

masterlist of the series!

previous | chapter 10

next | chapter 12

The house was unassuming, hidden deep within the woods, a place where the world seemed to slow down, wrapped in a silence that felt almost sacred. As Joel pulled the truck to a stop, the headlights caught the outline of the modest, two-story house, casting long shadows over the overgrown path that led to the front door. The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, a stark contrast to the suffocating air of the town you’d left behind.

Joel stepped out first, his eyes scanning the area, his hand resting protectively on the small of your back as he helped you out of the truck. The night was quiet, save for the distant chirp of crickets, but you could feel the tension in Joel’s body, the way his muscles were coiled, ready to spring at the slightest hint of danger.

You clung to his side, your steps faltering as exhaustion washed over you again, the events of the past day pressing down on your chest like a weight. Before Joel could knock the door as he carried you with his other hand, the door swung open, revealing Bill's face.

Bill’s grip on the shotgun tightened instinctively, his eyes darting between Joel and you, clearly assessing the situation. The man was all hard edges, a fortress in human form, and in that moment, you realized why Joel had brought you here. Bill was the kind of person who could handle whatever storm was brewing behind Joel’s haunted eyes.

“Jesus, Joel!” Bill barked, lowering the shotgun. His voice was rough, laden with concern and a tinge of anger. “What the hell are you doing here in the middle of the night? Where’s Ellie?”

But then his gaze landed on you, and you could see the shift in his expression—confusion, alarm, and something else that resembled pity. You felt small under his scrutiny, aware of how disheveled you must look, drenched in sweat and blood, carried on Joel's arms.

“Who the hell is this?” Bill’s voice softened slightly, but his suspicion remained.

Joel adjusted his hold on you, his grip firm yet gentle, as if he were afraid you might break apart. “I need your help,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading.

Before Bill could respond, another figure emerged from the shadows of the house. Frank, who had clearly been woken by the commotion, appeared at the top of the stairs in his pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Bill, what’s going—Joel?” Frank’s voice trailed off as he saw you, his eyes widening in shock.

Frank’s gaze darted from Joel to you, and his expression immediately shifted from confusion to concern. “What happened? Who is she?”

“She’s hurt,” Joel said, his voice strained as he tried to explain without revealing too much. “Please,"

Frank nodded without hesitation, stepping aside to let you both enter. Bill remained by the door, his eyes never leaving you, as if he was trying to piece together the story Joel wasn’t telling. But Frank, ever the softer of the two, helping Joel with you.

Frank’s panic was evident in his quick, almost frantic movements as he ushered you both inside. "Come, come, come on in," he urged, his voice trembling slightly as he guided Joel toward the couch. Joel still held you close, his arms wrapped protectively around you as he laid you down gently. Frank hurried off to grab some blankets, his footsteps echoing in the quiet house, while Joel knelt beside you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Does it still hurt anywhere?” Joel’s voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of worry that he couldn’t quite mask. His hands were gentle as they brushed over your bandaged wounds, checking to see if the makeshift dressings were holding up.

You managed a small shake of your head, but the truth was, everything still hurt. The adrenaline that had carried you this far was beginning to fade, leaving behind a deep, throbbing pain that seemed to settle into every part of your body. You were too tired to say much, the exhaustion weighing down your eyelids like lead.

Bill, who had been standing by the door, finally stepped forward, his face a mask of stern concern. “Alright, what the fuck is going on, Miller?” His voice was gruff, demanding answers. “What kind of trouble are you in this time?”

Joel ignored Bill’s question for a moment, his focus still entirely on you. He carefully lifted the edge of your shirt to check the bandage on your side, his jaw tightening as he saw the blood starting to seep through. “She’s hurt bad, Bill,” Joel said, his voice strained. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

Bill’s expression darkened, clearly unhappy with the situation, but before he could voice his displeasure, Frank returned with a bundle of blankets, handing them to Joel. “Here, Joel,” Frank said, his tone gentle as he knelt beside you. Joel took the blankets, draping them carefully over you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Bill,” Frank said, turning to his husband with a look that brooked no argument, “we need to help them. Get the first aid kit, now.”

Bill hesitated, his gaze shifting between Joel and you, clearly torn. But Frank’s firm tone left no room for debate. With a grunt of annoyance, Bill finally relented, stalking off to retrieve the kit. “This better not blow up in our faces, Joel,” he muttered as he disappeared into another room.

Frank sat down beside you, his eyes filled with concern as he looked you over. “What happened to her?” he asked Joel quietly, not wanting to pressure you to speak.

Joel hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. “She's hurt bad,” he said simply, his voice low. “Punched hard, Frank.”

Frank’s eyes softened even more, and he reached out to squeeze your hand reassuringly. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetie," You smile at him weakly.

Bill returned a moment later, a large first aid kit in hand. He tossed it to Joel, who caught it with ease, but his expression was tense. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” Bill grumbled, still not entirely on board with the situation.

Joel opened the kit, his hands hovering uncertainly over the supplies. He was no stranger to injuries, but this was different—this was you, and the thought of causing you more pain made his hands shake slightly. Frank noticed and gently took over, his hands steady and practiced.

“Let me handle this,” Frank said kindly, taking the bandages and antiseptic from the kit. “You just keep her calm.”

Joel nodded, reluctantly stepping back to give Frank room to work. He kept his hand on your shoulder, his touch firm and comforting as Frank began to carefully clean and re-bandage your wounds. You winced at the sting, but Joel’s presence helped keep you grounded, the warmth of his hand reassuring in the cold, unfamiliar house.

Bill remained nearby, his eyes flicking between you, Joel, and the door, ever watchful. He didn’t trust easily, but his loyalty to Joel was enough to keep him from outright refusing to help. For now, that would have to be enough.

As Frank worked, the pain slowly began to subside, the new bandages providing some relief. You were still too weak to speak much, but the kindness in Frank’s eyes and the steadiness of Joel’s presence made you feel safer than you had in a long time.

Finally, Frank finished, securing the last bandage with a gentle pat. “There,” he said softly, giving you a reassuring smile. “You’re going to be okay. Just rest now.”

Joel squeezed your shoulder, his voice low and soothing as he spoke. “You'll be okay, I promise.”

You nodded weakly, the exhaustion tugging at your eyelids once more. You needed sleep, the kind that would pull you under and shield you from the chaos of the world. Frank noticed your weariness and suggested gently, “Joel, why don’t you take her up to the guest room? Let her get some rest.”

Joel nodded in agreement, his gaze never leaving you. Without another word, he scooped you up into his arms with a tenderness that contrasted with his usual rugged demeanor. You protested weakly, “I can walk, Joel.”

But he ignored your words, carrying you as if you weighed nothing, his focus entirely on getting you to a place where you could finally find some peace. Frank and Bill followed closely behind as Joel carried you upstairs, their footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floor.

The guest room was small but cozy, with soft, warm light spilling in from a lamp on the nightstand. Joel set you down gently on the bed, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. Frank stepped forward, offering a kind smile. “Now, you try to get some rest. Things will look better in the morning.”

You managed a tired smile, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, Frank. And Bill… thank you too.”

Frank’s smile widened, full of warmth and reassurance, while Bill gave a curt nod, his gruff exterior softened by the moment. “Yeah, well… just get some sleep,” Bill muttered, his voice rough but not unkind.

Frank, ever the thoughtful one, sensed that you and Joel needed a moment alone. “We’ll give you two some time,” he said, gently guiding Bill out of the room. As the door clicked shut behind them, the room fell into a comfortable silence, leaving you and Joel alone together.

Joel sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze searching your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. “How are you feeling now? does it still hurt?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

You shook your head, trying to reassure him. “I’m fine, Joel. Really, I just need to sleep.”

Joel’s eyes softened, a flicker of guilt crossing his features. “I’m sorry… for everything. I’m gonna make sure you’re safe, that everything will be okay. I promise you that.”

You frowned, confusion and concern mixing in your expression. “Why are you saying sorry, Joel? You got me out from there,” you whispered, your voice filled with a fragile hope.

Joel sighed, his gaze drifting away from you for a moment as if searching for the right words. “Because… because I dragged you into this mess, darlin’. You didn’t deserve any of it."

His words hung heavy in the air, laden with regret. But to you, Joel had become the light that guided you through the darkness, the beacon that saved you when you thought you couldn’t go on. “But you did get me out, Joel. You saved me. You’re the only thing that feels real, the only thing that makes sense.”

He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “I just… I wish I could’ve done it sooner. I wish I could’ve protected you better," His voice cracked slightly, the emotion in it raw and unfiltered.

You shook your head, reaching out to him, trying to soothe the worry etched into his face. “You’re here now, Joel. That’s all that matters. We’re here, together. I don’t care about anything else.”

He exhaled, as if your words were a balm to his weary soul, and he nodded slowly. “And I’ll make sure you’re safe now,” he said quietly.

Joel’s hand lingered on your shoulder for a moment longer, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, a silent comfort. “Now, you need to get some sleep. You’re exhausted, rest, and let me take care of the rest.”

He stood up, the bed creaking slightly as he moved away, and as he did, a sudden wave of fear washed over you. The thought of being alone, even for a moment, sent a shiver down your spine. You reached out, grabbing his hand, your voice trembling slightly. “Where are you going, Joel? Don’t leave me… don’t leave me alone.”

Joel stopped, turning back to you, his expression softening at the sight of your distress. He crouched down beside you, taking your hand in both of his. “I’m not leaving, darlin’. I just need to talk to Bill and Frank for a bit. I’ll be right downstairs. You’ll be safe here.”

You hesitated, “Are we staying here? With them?”

Joel nodded, his expression serious. “Yeah, for a little while. Just until we figure out what’s next and where we’re going."

You bit your lip, glancing towards the door. “About your friend, Bill… he doesn’t like me. I can tell.”

Joel chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Bill’s just like that with everyone. He’s a good man, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges. Don’t worry about him.”

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease with Joel’s reassurances. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Get some sleep, okay? I’ll be back before you know it.”

You watched as he slowly stood up, his hand lingering in yours until the last possible moment. As he headed towards the door, he turned back one last time, his eyes locking onto yours with a promise.

With that, he slipped out of the room, leaving you to the quiet and the safety of the small guest room. The last thing you saw before sleep claimed you was the faint light from the hallway, a soft reminder that Joel was still close, watching over you even when you couldn’t see him.

As Joel quietly slipped out of the room, the soft glow of the hallway light was the last thing you saw before sleep claimed you, a small comfort that he was still near. Downstairs, the atmosphere was anything but calm.

The moment Joel stepped into the living room, Bill was already there, his arms crossed, his face a mask of tension and confusion. Frank, standing nearby, looked just as concerned, though his expression was softer, more curious.

“Now explain,” Bill demanded, his voice cold and laced with suspicion. He wasn’t one for pleasantries, especially not when the situation was as strange as this.

Frank’s eyes darted between Joel and the stairs leading up to where you rested. “Joel, what’s going on? Who is she? And where the hell is Ellie?”

Joel could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him as Bill's sharp eyes bore into him. There was no easy way out of this conversation, no simple explanation that could make everything clear. He knew that Bill and Frank deserved answers, but the truth was a tangled mess in his mind, knotted up with the raw emotions he’d been trying to keep at bay.

“It’s…complicated,” Joel began again, his voice low and burdened with the gravity of what he was about to say. The words felt heavy, each one dragging him down as he struggled to find the right way to explain. “She needed help, Bill. She was in a bad situation, and I couldn’t just leave her there.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed further, suspicion hardening his features. “And by ‘bad situation,’ what the hell do you mean?” His tone was cold, unyielding, as if he could freeze the truth out of Joel.

Joel knew that if he didn’t lay it all out, Bill would never trust him. He drew in a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do. “She’s… she’s been through hell,” Joel said slowly, trying to piece together a version of the truth that would make sense. “Her family… they weren’t good to her. I had to get her out of there."

"Now, hold on, who is she to you exactly?" Bill asked again, "She's...she's uh my neighbor, but she's under my care now," Joel answered.

Frank, who had been listening quietly, furrowed his brow in confusion. “What does that even mean, Joel? ‘Under your care?’ What are you trying to say?”

Joel felt his chest tighten, the words caught in his throat. How could he explain something so complex, something that even he was struggling to fully understand? “I saved her from her family,” he said, the words coming out more forcefully than he intended.

Bill’s expression shifted from suspicion to something darker, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “You kidnapped her?!”

“No, it’s not like that,” Joel snapped, frustration bubbling over. I didn’t kidnap her. She wanted to leave, and I… I helped her.”

“It’s complicated. I… I care about her. We care about each other.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Frank’s eyes widened in shock, while Bill’s face twisted with disbelief. “What?” Frank whispered, almost as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

The room seemed to shrink as Joel stood under the weight of their incredulous stares. Frank’s voice was barely a whisper, yet it cut through the tension like a knife. “What do you mean?”

Joel felt like he was drowning, the pressure of the situation pressing down on him, suffocating him. His mind was a chaotic storm of guilt, desperation, and something else—something he didn’t want to name but couldn’t ignore. His thoughts twisted in on themselves, a tangled mess of emotions that left him reeling. The words felt like shards of glass in his throat, but he forced them out anyway, knowing he had to make them understand.

“I love her,” Joel said, his voice rough, strained. “I had to save her… I couldn’t just leave her in that hell.”

Bill’s face contorted with anger, his disbelief giving way to a rising fury. “The fuck do you mean, love her?! She’s a fucking kid, Joel! How old is she?!” His voice cracked with the force of his emotion, his mind struggling to wrap around what Joel was saying. “She looks barely older than Ellie!”

“She’s not a kid,” Joel snapped back, frustration and fear driving his words.

Frank’s expression darkened with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. “Joel, what have you done?” His voice was softer now, laden with a deep sense of concern.

“I had no choice,” Joel muttered, his voice tight as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I couldn’t see her like that anymore.”

Bill’s eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his voice rising. “So you kidnapped her from her family? Is that why you ran away?! Why the hell would you get involved in your neighbor’s business?”

Joel’s control snapped, the words tearing from him like a wound ripped open. “Because her father was fucking beating her!”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Joel’s confession hanging heavy in the air. Frank’s mouth opened, then closed, as he tried to process what he’d just heard. Bill’s fury faltered, replaced by a cold, steely determination.

Joel’s chest heaved as he stood there, his emotions laid bare for them to see. He didn’t know how to explain what he felt, how to make them understand the desperation, the fear that had driven him to this point. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you go back to that life, couldn’t let you suffer any longer.

“I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, she could have fucking die!” Joel said, his voice raw with emotion. “I couldn’t let her stay in that house, with that bastard… I had to get her out.”

Frank looked at Joel, his expression a mix of pity and resignation. “And what now, Joel? What do you plan to do?”

Joel’s voice trembled as he spoke, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him like a vise. “I don’t know… I just need time to figure it out.”

His desperation bled through each word, the facade of strength he’d always worn so carefully crumbling before their eyes. “J-just, just let us stay for a couple of days, till we—I—figure out what’s next.” His voice wavered, breaking under the strain. “She needs to heal, both mentally and physically. Please.”

It was a word Joel had never used lightly, a word that carried a weight of its own, something raw and vulnerable that neither Bill nor Frank had ever seen in him before. Joel had always been so cold, so unyielding—a fortress of a man who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But now, standing before them, he was exposed, fragile in a way that made Frank’s heart ache.

For a moment, the room was steeped in silence, thick with the tension of a decision that could not be undone. Frank’s gaze softened as he looked from Joel to Bill, who stood rigid, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. Bill’s face was a storm of conflicted emotions—wariness, frustration, and a reluctance that spoke to his deep-seated aversion to complications.

“Bill,” Frank finally said, his voice gentle, almost pleading. “Let them stay. Just for a while.”

Bill’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as he considered Frank’s words. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, and the thought of being dragged into a mess that wasn’t his own made his skin crawl. But there was something in Joel’s eyes, a fragility that tugged at the edges of his resolve, even if he didn’t fully understand it. He didn’t like this—any of it—but he also couldn’t bring himself to turn Joel away.

With a heavy sigh, Bill relented, though his voice remained gruff. “Fine. But only for a few days, and don’t bring any more trouble to my doorstep.”

Frank stepped forward, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take as much time as you need,” he said softly. “We’ll help however we can.”

Joel nodded, the relief in his expression tempered by a lingering wariness. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice sincere but guarded.

Even in his gratitude, Joel couldn’t fully let his defenses down, couldn’t allow himself to believe that everything would be okay just yet. The path ahead was still dark, still uncertain, but at least, for now, he had a place to breathe.

Bill glanced up and down at Joel, his expression somewhere between exasperation and concern. “Jesus Christ, clean yourself up. You look like shit, Miller,” he muttered, his voice gruff but not unkind. Without waiting for a response, Bill turned on his heel and headed towards his bedroom, leaving Joel standing in the dimly lit living room.

Frank lingered for a moment longer, his eyes soft with understanding. He disappeared into another room and returned with a small stack of clothes—worn but clean, likely Bill’s—handing them to Joel. “Here, these should fit. Go clean yourself up and get some rest."

Joel took the clothes with a nod of thanks, his eyes lingering on Frank’s face.

As Frank turned to leave, heading toward his bedroom, he paused in the doorway, glancing back at Joel. “I’m gonna get some sleep now. Make yourself at home. If you need anything, just knock our bedroom's door,"

Joel nodded again, the weight of the night pressing heavy on his shoulders. "Thanks, Frank,"

“Goodnight, Joel,” Frank said softly before disappearing down the hall.

"Goodnight,"

Joel stood there for a moment longer, the quiet of the house settling around him like a blanket. He took a deep breath, clutching the clothes in his hand, then slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, the faint sound of water running echoed through the small space. Finally alone, Joel allowed himself to let go, if only for a moment. He turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the room, hoping the hot water could wash away not just the grime of the day, but the weight of everything that had happened.

After finishing his shower, Joel stepped quietly out of the bathroom, the steam still lingering in the air like a fading memory. His body ached, not just from the day’s events, but from the weight of decisions that had led him to this moment. The clothes Frank had given him felt strange against his skin—clean, unfamiliar—but they were a comfort, a small kindness in a world that had shown him little.

As he approached the guest bedroom, he hesitated at the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. The soft sound of your breathing reached him, steady and rhythmic, a fragile reminder that you were still here, still with him. He opened the door slowly, careful not to let the light from the hallway spill in, and stepped inside.

There you were, curled up on the bed, lost in the depths of sleep. Joel’s heart ached at the sight of you, so small and vulnerable beneath the covers. The bruises on your face had darkened, a cruel testament to the hell you’d been through. The bandages on your arms and legs stood out starkly against your pale skin, a reminder of the pain you’d endured. It broke something deep within him to see you like this, so fragile and hurt, but at the same time, it steeled his resolve.

He had done this. He had brought you here, taken you from one life and thrust you into another. The consequences were unknown, whatever it took, he would keep you safe. You were his responsibility now, and he was okay with that—more than okay. You were worth every risk, every sleepless night, every lie he’d have to tell to keep you from harm.

Quietly, Joel made his way to the bed and carefully lay down beside you, trying not to disturb your sleep. But as soon as his weight settled onto the mattress, you stirred, your body instinctively shifting closer to him, seeking the comfort and safety that only he could provide.

“Joel…” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, heavy with sleep and something deeper—an unspoken fear that clawed at your subconscious even now.

“I’m here, baby,” Joel whispered back, his voice tender, filled with a promise he would never break. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as he could make it.

You sighed softly, your body relaxing as his words reached you, even in your half-dreaming state. “Please… don’t leave me,” you mumbled, your voice laced with a desperation that tugged at Joel’s heart.

“I won’t, sweetheart,” Joel assured you, his voice steady, though inside, he was anything but. “I'm not going anywhere, I’m here with you always."

You turned in your sleep, moving closer until your head rested against his chest, your arms wrapping around him as if to anchor yourself to the only solid thing in your world. Joel hesitated for a moment, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the trust you placed in him so absolute, it made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer, feeling the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against his own.

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the faint scent of your hair, a mix of shampoo and something uniquely you. As he lay there, his mind swirled with thoughts of what had been, what could be, and what might come next. The future was a shadowed path, filled with dangers he couldn’t yet see, but none of it mattered if you were by his side.

Joel’s eyes drifted to the ceiling, his thoughts growing heavy as he tried to make sense of it all. There was no turning back this time, no easy way out, but he found a strange peace in that. For so long, he had been adrift, lost in a world that had taken so much from him. But now, with you in his arms, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—purpose.

He would protect you, no matter the cost. Whatever the world threw at them, he would be ready, because you were worth it. You were the one thing in his life that made sense, the one person he couldn’t afford to lose. And for you, he would face anything.

As sleep finally began to claim him, Joel held you a little tighter, the weight of the world pressing down on him, but somehow feeling lighter with you in his arms. Whatever came next, whatever battles they would face, he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t alone anymore. And as long as you were with him, that was enough.

***

In the days that followed, the world around you seemed to move in slow motion. The pain from your injuries was still there, a dull ache that lingered beneath the surface, but it was the emotional wounds that cut the deepest. Every time you closed your eyes, you were haunted by memories—flashes of your father’s anger, of Jamie’s twisted smile. They came to you in dreams, turning peaceful sleep into a battlefield where you fought to escape their grasp.

During the day, the sun brought with it a semblance of normalcy. Bill and Frank’s house became a strange kind of sanctuary, a place where you could hide from the world, from the things that had chased you here. But even in this safety, there was an undercurrent of fear that you couldn’t shake. Guilt gnawed at you, especially when you thought of your mother, of how you had left her behind. You missed Emma and Ellie, their voices a distant echo in your mind, reminding you of what you had lost, of the life that had been taken from you.

Joel stayed close, never letting you out of his sight for too long. His protectiveness was a constant presence, a shield against the darkness that threatened to consume you. He bought you new clothes, little things to try and make this feel like home, though he never allowed you to leave the house. It was as if he was building a wall around you, a fortress where nothing could hurt you again. But in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, you could see the cracks in his armor. He was struggling too, his thoughts often drifting to Ellie, to the life he had left behind to save you.

Joel had bought a new burner phone, a cheap, untraceable device that he used to contact Tommy. He couldn’t risk calling Ellie, not with the possibility that your father might report him. Every time he picked up the phone, you could see the conflict in his eyes, the weight of the choices he had made pressing down on him. He would sit in silence for hours, lost in his thoughts, his brow furrowed with worry. You wanted to tell him that it was okay, that you understood why he had done what he did, but the words never seemed to come out right.

At night, the nightmares were the worst. They came without warning, dragging you back to the terror of what had happened. You would wake up screaming, your heart pounding in your chest, the taste of fear thick in your throat. And every time, Joel was there, pulling you into his arms, whispering soft reassurances as he held you close. But even as he comforted you, you could feel him breaking, the weight of your pain becoming too much for him to bear. His voice would crack, his grip tightening as if he could keep the nightmares at bay just by holding you.

Frank had become a quiet presence in your life, always there with a kind word or a gentle smile. He helped you a lot, especially on the days when the world felt too heavy. He would sit with you in the kitchen, guiding your hands as you helped him cook, his voice soft and steady as he talked about anything and everything. There was a warmth to him, a kindness that made you feel safe, like you could tell him anything and he would understand.

As you stood at the counter chopping vegetables, the rhythmic sound of the knife meeting the cutting board filled the kitchen, a small comfort in the routine. Frank glanced over at you, his expression warm but thoughtful, clearly gauging how you were holding up after everything.

"How are you feeling, kid?" he asked, his voice gentle, carrying a note of genuine concern.

You paused for a moment, considering the question. The past few days had been a whirlwind of emotions—fear, relief, guilt—but here, in the quiet safety of Bill and Frank’s home, you were starting to feel a semblance of normalcy. You turned to Frank with a small smile, nodding. “I’m good,” you replied softly, though the words carried more weight than they seemed.

Frank returned your smile, sensing that there was more beneath the surface. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his tone encouraging.

Taking a breath, you decided to open up a bit more. "I really appreciate everything you and Bill have done for us," you began, your eyes meeting his as you spoke earnestly. "Letting us stay here, helping us get back on our feet… I know it’s not easy having strangers around, and I just want you to know how grateful I am. You didn’t have to do any of this."

Frank’s expression softened, and he shook his head dismissively, though the kindness in his eyes remained. “Ah, it’s nothing. Joel’s a good friend of ours, and now you are too. We look out for our own, you know?” He paused, then added with a light chuckle, “And besides, we could use the company. Bill and I don’t get many visitors these days.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a warmth spread in your chest. “Thank you, Frank."

Frank waved a hand, as if brushing off the praise. “Hey, friends help friends. That’s just how it works, right?”

You nodded, your smile lingering as you turned back to the vegetables. The ease with which Frank treated you, the way he made you feel welcome, was a balm to your frayed nerves. Despite everything that had happened, there was a sense of belonging beginning to take root here.

As the conversation naturally lulled, Frank’s gaze drifted to the small cross hanging around your neck.

His curiosity piqued, and he smiled warmly, attempting to lighten the mood with a bit of banter. “You’re a believer, I see?” he said, nodding towards the necklace. “Maybe that’s why you’ve got this positive aura around you.”

You chuckled softly, fingers instinctively reaching up to touch the cross. “Yeah, I am,” you replied, the weight of the necklace familiar and comforting against your skin. “Grew up very religious.”

Frank, still focused on chopping vegetables, glanced at you with a curious smile. “Are you a believer?” you asked, genuinely interested in his story.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, I left God a long time ago. My parents were deeply religious, though. Strong believers, the kind who thought they had everything figured out until their son turned out to be… well, me. One day they decided to just threw me away like that,"

You felt a pang of empathy and glanced at Frank, seeing a flicker of old pain in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that,” you said gently.

Frank smiled, though there was a trace of bitterness in it. “No, no, it’s alright. Look at me now—I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?” He chuckled, but the words carried a deeper meaning. “Besides, I’d rather be alone and true to myself than pretend to be someone else just to make others happy.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, echoing the thoughts you’d harbored for years. You had always felt trapped, suffocated by the expectations and strictures imposed by your parents, especially your father. Living under their roof had felt like being in a cage—your every breath measured, your every step scrutinized. The cross around your neck suddenly felt heavier, not because of its physical weight, but because of the symbolic burden it carried, a reminder of all the years you spent trying to conform to a version of yourself that wasn’t truly you.

Your mind drifted, the kitchen around you fading as Frank’s words swirled in your thoughts. The yearning for freedom, the desperate need to escape the confines of your old life, had been a constant in your heart for so long.

Frank’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing you back to the present. “Until I met Bill,” he continued, his tone softening with affection. “I wasn’t alone anymore.”

You smiled, understanding exactly what he meant. You had found that with Joel too—someone who didn’t just let you be free but walked alongside you in that freedom, making sure you never felt alone in it. With Joel, the darkness of your past didn’t feel so overwhelming, and the future, once so uncertain, now held the possibility of hope. He had become your anchor, the person who reminded you that you didn’t have to carry the burden of your past by yourself.

He had given you the space to breathe, to be yourself without judgment, without the crushing pressure to be someone you weren’t. With Joel, you could finally exhale, no longer suffocating under the weight of expectations.

“How long have you and Bill been together?” you asked, genuinely curious about the life they had built together.

Frank’s face lit up with a soft, contented smile. “Oh, it’s been about ten years now,” he replied, a hint of pride in his voice.

“Wow, that’s a long time,” you said, admiration clear in your tone.

“Yeah, it is,” Frank agreed. “We’ve had our ups and downs, like any couple, but… well, there’s no one else I’d rather spend my life with. He’s my home.”

The simplicity and truth in his words touched you deeply. You couldn’t help but think of Joel again, wondering if one day you could find that same sense of home with him—a place where you could finally rest, where the wounds of the past could slowly heal, and where the future, no matter how uncertain, didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

***

The night was still, the kind of quiet that felt heavy, almost suffocating, as Joel sat on the front porch, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The faint glow of the ember was the only light in the darkness, aside from the occasional flicker of the beer bottle as he lifted it to his lips. He took a long drag, the smoke curling up into the night air, blending into the shadows that seemed to wrap around him. The weight of the last few days pressed down on his shoulders, the uncertainty of what lay ahead gnawing at him.

Three days. It had been three days since he and you arrived at Bill and Frank’s, and every second felt like the ticking of a clock running out of time. He hadn’t heard from Tommy since that last conversation, where his brother had warned him that your father had gone to the sheriff, reporting you as kidnapped. Joel’s grip tightened around the bottle at the thought. Kidnapping. The word felt like a noose tightening around his neck. He hadn’t taken you; he’d saved you. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. But with the sheriff and the police now involved, the danger was creeping closer, and he knew they couldn’t stay hidden forever.

They had to keep moving. It was the only way to survive. The thought of staying in one place too long made Joel’s skin crawl. The longer they stayed, the more likely it was that someone would come looking for them. And then there was the fear, gnawing at the edges of his mind, about what would happen if you found out about Jamie Lee and Pastor Ben. The memories of that night haunted him, the blood, the desperation, the cold finality of what he had done. What would you think of him if you knew? Would you still see him as your protector, or would that look in your eyes change?

Joel took another drag from his cigarette, the smoke burning his lungs as the thoughts churned in his head. The idea of settling down somewhere new was tempting, but where could they go that would be safe? Where could they build a life that didn’t feel like they were running every second of every day? He knew he had to talk to you, to figure out what you wanted, but the thought of that conversation made his chest tighten. He didn’t want to burden you with more decisions, not when you were still healing, but they couldn’t keep living in limbo. They had to make a choice, and soon.

He crushed the cigarette beneath his boot and drained the last of his beer, the bitterness of it lingering on his tongue as he stood up. The house behind him was quiet, save for the faint sounds of Bill and Frank finishing up the dishes. Joel took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he had to do next. He needed to check on you, to see if you were ready to have that conversation. But as he walked through the door and made his way down the hall, he stopped short at the sight of you.

You were on your knees, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a halo around you as you prayed. Joel’s heart twisted at the sight, a mixture of emotions crashing over him. Guilt, fear, love—all of it tangled together, choking him. He watched you for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, not wanting to break the fragile peace you seemed to find in those moments.

As you knelt there, your hands clasped tightly together, your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions, swirling like a storm inside you. The familiar comfort of prayer was the only anchor you had left in a world that felt like it was spinning out of control. You whispered the words you had been taught since childhood, the prayers that had been your solace through so many dark times. But tonight, those prayers felt different, heavy with the weight of everything you’d been through.

You prayed for your mother, for the safety of the family you had left behind. You prayed for Emma, for Ellie, hoping they were okay, hoping they didn’t blame you for leaving. But most of all, you prayed for strength, for the courage to face whatever came next. The fear that had been your constant companion these last few days was a shadow that you couldn’t escape, creeping into your thoughts, into your dreams. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father’s face, heard Jamie’s voice. It haunted you, a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. And yet, as long as Joel was with you, you felt a glimmer of hope, a small light in the darkness. He was your protector, your shield against the world, and the thought of losing that safety terrified you more than anything else.

You prayed for Joel too, for the man who had risked everything to keep you safe. You knew he was struggling, that the weight of everything was pressing down on him just as much as it was on you. You could see it in the lines of his face, in the way he was always on edge, always watching, always worrying. You prayed that he would find peace, that he wouldn’t be consumed by the guilt that you could see lurking in his eyes, even if he tried to hide it from you. You prayed that he wouldn’t have to carry this burden alone, that together, you could find a way to move forward, to build a life that wasn’t just about surviving but about living.

When you finally finished, you sat back on your heels, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady your racing heart. You hadn’t heard Joel come in, but when you looked up, you saw him standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you heavy with everything that had been left unsaid.

Joel stepped into the room, his movements careful, almost hesitant, as he approached you. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion.

You shook your head, offering him a small smile. “You didn’t."

You were wearing a soft, flowing white nightgown that brushed against your skin like a whisper, your hair now loose, cascading over your shoulders in waves. It was a small comfort, something familiar in a world that had become so unpredictable. As you prepared the bed, fluffing the pillows and smoothing out the covers, Joel moved with quiet efficiency, closing the door behind him before he began to undress.

He pulled his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back rippling with the motion, and you couldn’t help but watch him, your eyes tracing the lines of his body. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, each action deliberate and controlled, a testament to the strength that had kept you both alive this far.

But beneath that strength, you saw the weight he carried—the burden of the choices he had made, the lives he had taken to protect you. It tugged at your heart, a pang of guilt that you couldn’t quite shake. This was your fault, after all. Joel had left everything behind for you, risked everything, and now, he was bearing the consequences of that choice.

He slipped into a clean shirt and a pair of worn sweatpants, his movements efficient but unhurried, as if he was trying to prolong the moment before he had to speak. You watched him with a mixture of love and sorrow, the emotions swirling inside you like a storm.

Joel was your anchor, the one constant in a world that had been turned upside down. But at what cost? The thought haunted you as you climbed into bed, your eyes still following him as he finished dressing.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, his voice cutting through the silence, thick with concern.

“Couldn’t be better,” you replied, though the words felt like a half-truth. Physically, you were healing, but the wounds that ran deeper, the ones that cut into your soul, those were far from mended. You had been thinking about that, about what came next, and as Joel continued to speak, you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.

“I’ve been thinking,” Joel began, his tone more serious now as he turned to face you. You watched him, your heart clenching as he spoke, the intensity of his gaze making it clear that whatever he was about to say was weighing heavily on him.

You patted the bed next to you, inviting him to sit, to share the burden that had settled between you. Joel hesitated for a moment before crossing the room, the bed dipping slightly under his weight as he lay down next to you. The warmth of his presence was a comfort, even as the gravity of the situation pressed down on you both.

“We can’t stay here long,” Joel said, his voice firm, though there was a tremor beneath the surface that betrayed his worry. “I spoke to Tommy a couple of days ago… about your dad. He told me that he’s reported me to the sheriff, said I kidnapped you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. You had known this was coming, but hearing it out loud made it feel all the more real. The sheriff, the police—it was only a matter of time before they came looking, before they started asking questions that neither of you could afford to answer.

“Tommy told me not to contact him,” Joel continued, his voice tightening with frustration. “He said he’d reach out to me if there’s any news, but until then… we’re on our own. For our safety, we’ve got to keep moving. But I need to know if you’re ready. I don't want to push you,"

You could hear the unspoken question in his words—whether you were strong enough to keep going, whether you could survive what came next. But there was something else, too, a flicker of doubt in his eyes that made your heart ache. He was worried about you, yes, but he was also afraid of what might happen if you weren’t ready. Afraid of what it would mean if you couldn’t keep going.

“I’m okay,” you said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. His skin was rough, calloused from years of hard work, but his touch was gentle, grounding you in this moment. Joel leaned into your touch, his heart warming as if it found a safe harbor in your presence. His lips curled into a small, genuine smile, one that softened the hard edges of his face.

“Well,” Joel began, his voice low and steady, “we might have a long trip ahead of us.” He paused, looking into your eyes as if searching for any sign of hesitation. “Where do you want to go?”

For a moment, you were lost in thought, the possibilities stretching out before you like an open road. This was the moment you had always dreamed of—the chance to finally leave behind the small town that had suffocated you for so long. Excitement sparked within you, a flicker of hope that began to burn brighter with each passing second. “What about California?” you suggested, your voice filled with a newfound enthusiasm. “We don’t have to live in Los Angeles… we could settle in a small town, like Davis? Some quiet place, you know?”

Joel considered your words, his gaze never leaving yours. “Wherever you want us to go,” he said, his tone sincere. “I don’t care, as long as you’re with me.”

Your heart swelled at his words, a sincere smile spreading across your face. The love you felt for him in that moment was overwhelming, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Joel’s expression softened as he watched you, as if he could feel the shift in the air between you.

A thought seemed to cross Joel’s mind, and his eyes lit up with a new idea. “Since you’ve never been anywhere outside,” he began, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice, “how about we take a trip? A real one. We could go to every state in the USA, see everything there is to see. And then, when we’re ready, we can settle down in Davis, or wherever you want.”

His words hung in the air, the idea taking shape in your mind. A trip across the country, just the two of you, exploring the world together—it felt like a dream. You could almost see it, the endless highways, the changing landscapes, the freedom that came with each new place. The thought of it filled you with a sense of adventure, a spark of life that you hadn’t felt in so long.

“You really mean it?” you asked, your voice filled with awe. “You’ll take me on that trip?”

“Why not?” Joel replied, his smile widening. “We’ve got time for ourselves now. No rush, no place we have to be. We can just… live. Just you and me now, doll.”

Without thinking, you threw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The warmth of his body against yours, the strength in his arms as he held you close—it was everything you needed, everything you had been longing for. You pressed a kiss to his lips, a soft, grateful gesture. “Thank you,” you whispered against his mouth, your voice trembling with emotion.

But as the excitement faded, reality began to creep back in, and with it, the weight of guilt that had been gnawing at you for days. This was all because of you. Joel had left his life behind—left Ellie, Tommy, his family, left everything he knew—because of you. You had dragged him into this mess, turned him into a fugitive. The thought of it made your chest tighten with regret.

“I’m so sorry,” you said suddenly, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. “This is all my fault. You left everything behind because of me. Your life… Ellie… I ruined everything.”

Joel’s brow furrowed in confusion, his hands tightening around you as if to keep you grounded. “Hey, what are you talking about?” he asked, his voice firm but gentle. “This isn’t your fault. I wanted this, I chose this.”

“But—”

“No, listen to me,” Joel interrupted, his tone more insistent now. “I made the choice to leave, to take you with me. I wasn’t going to let you go through this alone. You didn’t drag me into anything. I’m here because I want to be. Because I love you.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over the doubts and fears that had been building inside you. Joel’s eyes were filled with a fierce determination, a resolve that left no room for doubt. He wasn’t going to let you carry this burden alone, wasn’t going to let you blame yourself for the choices he had made.

“You don’t have to feel guilty,” Joel continued, his voice softening as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’re in this together, okay? I’m right where I want to be. With you.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, soothing the ache in your heart. The guilt that had been suffocating you began to loosen its grip, replaced by a deep sense of relief. Joel had made his choice, just as you had made yours. And together, you would face whatever came next.

As you looked into his eyes, you knew that no matter where the road took you, no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would find a way through it. With Joel by your side, you felt like you could take on the world. And for the first time in what felt like forever, the future didn’t seem so terrifying. It felt like a promise—one that you and Joel would keep, together.

"I love you too, Joel," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of everything those words held. His gaze softened, and before you could say anything more, Joel leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was tender, a gentle affirmation of the bond you shared. You melted into him, your bodies pressing together as you held each other close in the quiet cocoon of the room.

The kiss deepened, but it wasn’t rushed. It was as if time had slowed, allowing you to savor the moment—the warmth of his mouth, the way his hand cupped the back of your head, drawing you closer. There was something pure in that kiss, something that spoke of more than just desire. It was love, yes, but also relief, gratitude, and an unspoken promise that you would stand by each other, no matter what came next.

As you embraced, the sound of a song drifted up from downstairs, carried on the quiet air of the night. The familiar notes of “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” by Willie and Paula Nelson filled the room, and you couldn’t help but smile as you recognized the voices of Bill and Frank in the distance.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Frank, not this song again,” Bill’s gruff voice grumbled, the sound slightly muffled but still clear.

Frank’s reply was lighthearted, tinged with affection. “Once in a while, Bill, we need something besides Linda Ronstadt. I need something new.”

“But Linda is so good,” Bill protested, the hint of a smile in his tone. “You know that. It was our song.”

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against Joel’s chest as you lay wrapped in each other’s arms. “They’re an interesting couple,” you murmured, looking up at Joel with a playful glint in your eye.

Joel’s lips quirked into a small smile as he listened to the banter from downstairs. “Frank’s nice enough,” he said, but you noticed he hadn’t mentioned Bill. There was a slight hesitation in his voice, a subtle tension that you could feel through the way his body stiffened ever so slightly.

You knew that Joel and Bill had a complicated relationship, one marked by an undercurrent of mutual respect mixed with a kind of wariness that neither of them could fully shake. Bill was a man who valued his solitude, fiercely protective of his territory and his way of life. He and Joel shared a similar toughness, a survival instinct honed by years of hardship, but their similarities also made them clash. Bill’s brusque nature, his guarded demeanor—it all rubbed up against Joel’s own rough edges, creating an awkward, sometimes strained dynamic between them.

They weren’t exactly friends in the traditional sense, but they weren’t enemies either. It was more like they understood each other on a level that didn’t require words—a kind of silent agreement to coexist, to respect the other’s boundaries, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye.

“Joel…”

“What?”

“They’re good people, Joel. Frank and Bill. They took us in when they didn’t have to. They gave us a place to stay till we figure it out,"

Joel’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah, they did, I guess Bill's not that bad,” he admitted making you chuckle a little.

There was an unspoken acknowledgment between you—a recognition of the small sanctuary you had found in Bill and Frank’s home, however temporary it might be. And despite the rough edges, despite the unspoken tensions, you knew that Joel was grateful in his own way for the refuge they had provided.

You reached up, cupping his cheek as you pulled him in for another kiss, this one more urgent, more passionate. It was as if the song playing downstairs had ignited something in you—a deep, burning need that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The kiss grew more intense, and as your lips moved against his, you could feel the unspoken desire that had been building between you for days.

Joel responded in kind, his hands moving to hold you closer, his touch becoming more insistent. There was no hesitation now, no more holding back. It was just the two of you, finally able to be together without fear or guilt. The world outside could wait; this moment was yours.

You guided him to be on the top of you, your bodies entwined as the song played on in the background. The melody seemed to echo the rhythm of your hearts, each beat syncing with the other as you moved together. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, the quiet sighs of pleasure as you lost yourselves in each other.

Joel’s hands roamed over your body, gentle but with a certain urgency, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Every touch sent a shiver down your spine, every kiss ignited a fire within you. It was sweet, yes, but also passionate—like two souls finally finding their way back to each other after being lost for so long.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. The heat of his skin pressed against yours, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart, echoing in time with your own. It was a rhythm that spoke of love, of need, of the deep connection that bound you together—one that had weathered storms and now found solace in the quiet moments like this.

Joel’s hands slid down your sides, fingers brushing the delicate fabric of your white nightgown. Slowly, he lifted it over your head, the soft material grazing your skin as it fell away. His gaze never left yours, a silent reverence in the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as he undid the last of his clothing, baring himself to you. The weight of his words settled into your heart, grounding you in the moment as he moved closer, his body warm and familiar against yours. When he positioned himself between your thighs, the anticipation hummed between you, a charged electricity that made every nerve in your body come alive.

As Joel entered you, slowly and tenderly, a soft moan escaped your lips. He moved with deliberate care, every thrust measured, as if savoring every second of being with you. His pace was slow, each movement a testament to the depth of his love, the gentleness of his touch weaving a tapestry of passion and tenderness that enveloped you both.

Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, fitting together as though they were made for each other. The world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in this moment of pure connection. There were no more secrets, no more hiding in the shadows. For the first time, you could be together completely, without fear or shame. It was as if the walls around your hearts had finally crumbled, allowing you to love each other fully, freely.

As you moaned softly, feeling the sweet friction within yours, the intensity of your connection deepened with every passing moment. Joel’s movements were unhurried, each thrust sending waves of pleasure rippling through you, building slowly but steadily. His breath was hot against your ear, his low growls of pleasure resonating through your body, making you shiver with anticipation.

“Joel…” you moan, your voice trembling with a mixture of need and love. His name on your lips felt like a prayer, a plea for this moment to never end, for the world to stay suspended in this perfect stillness where only the two of you existed.

Joel responded with a soft grunt, his hips pressing deeper, finding a rhythm that had you arching into him, your body reacting to his every move. He watched you intently, his eyes filled with a reverence that made your heart ache. In this moment, you were his entire world, and he was yours.

The slow, deliberate pace allowed every sensation to intensify—the way his skin brushed against yours, the way his hands roamed your body as if memorizing every curve, the way his gaze never wavered from yours, grounding you in the here and now. Every touch, every movement was a reminder that you were safe, cherished, and loved.

As Joel continued to move within you, the tension began to build, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses narrowing to the feel of him, the sound of his breath, the warmth of his skin. You were completely lost in each other, the outside world fading into insignificance.

And then, as if sensing you were on the edge, Joel leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, his lips moving softly against yours. The kiss was filled with all the emotions that words could never fully convey—his love, his desire, his unwavering commitment to you.

With a final, deep thrust, the tension within you snapped, and you came undone in his arms, your body trembling with the force of your release. Joel followed soon after, his own release a shuddering, overwhelming wave of pleasure that left you both breathless.

For a moment, the world stood still. You lay there in each other’s arms, your bodies entwined, hearts beating as one. The outside world, with all its dangers and uncertainties, felt miles away. Here, in this quiet space, there was only love—a love that had weathered every storm, a love that had brought moment of peace and completeness.

As your breathing slowed, you nestled closer to Joel, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the strong, steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you as if he could shield you from the world outside, from all the darkness and danger that still lingered just beyond the walls of this room.

The song playing softly in the background, "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?", blended with the lingering hum of your emotions. The lyrics, the melody, all seemed to echo the storm you had weathered together—the downpours, the relentless winds, and finally, the calm after the storm. It was a moment of serenity that you both craved, a small piece of normalcy in a world that had been anything but.

You shifted slightly to look up at Joel, your hand resting gently on his chest. “I never thought I’d feel this way,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

Joel’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. “Me neither,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m glad I do. I’m glad it’s with you.”

His words filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being, a sense of belonging that you hadn’t felt in so long. Here, in his arms, you felt like you had finally found your home, not in a place, but in a person. In Joel.

“I love you, Joel,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the overwhelming emotions coursing through you.

Joel’s lips curved into a soft smile, one that reached his eyes, lighting them up in a way that made your heart swell. “I love you too, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice filled with the same intensity of feeling that you held in your heart.

He pulled you closer, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. And in that embrace, you felt the world fall away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in a love that was as deep and as vast as the ocean.

As you drifted off to sleep in Joel’s arms, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together. No matter the challenges, no matter the obstacles, you had each other. And that was enough. More than enough.

174 notes · View notes