#one else. it’s like you’re not even there lol

[lokissweater]

a million more novembers

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: its you and megumi’s cute little two year anniversary!

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUUUUFFF GALOOREEEE AWWWUUHHH!!, sexual themes, mostly sfw except for like one steamy part ;), boobie sucking, grinding, soft loving megumi OFCCC, sliight angst but really nothing, all characters are aged up, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)

word count: 8.8k

authors note: ANNIVERSARY SPEECCCIIAAALLL I AM CRRRYYIINNNGGG!!! i hope you guys enjoy this little side fun mini chapter of sir gumi and reader’s anniversary day, and their endeavors with yuji and readers best friend :333 wanted to give you guys an extra mlb!megumi chapter in celebration of their LUUUUVVV !!! MWAAAHHHHH I LOOOVEE YOUUUU !!! TAKE CAAAREEEE !!! <3333333

i highly advise you to read the other parts of this series or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

if you could, you’d fake pass out at this very moment so that way you’d be excused by your professor and get the fuck out of your afternoon lecture right this instant.

but you couldn’t, because attendance was mandatory and you’d lose points upon missing out… and you had an exam next week— which is something you normally just grumbled about and dealt with seeing as it was just a part of being in college, except right now? it was criminal to even think about an upcoming exam like this.

because it was you and megumi’s two year anniversary.

and the only thing you wanted to do was be there with him for the entire day… but because of your classes and megumi having abnormal back to back practices again due to the upcoming world series, you both agreed that you’d drive over to the stadium after your afternoon class and leave together for your little date after he was done.

but even though megumi had practice, you wanted to be at the stadium so fucking badly— watching him pitch and swing and just do what he does best one of your absolute favorite hobbies, the way he plays never getting old and actually illegal to even think that something like that could be a possibility.

you shrunk down in your seat, arms crossed as your professor went over topics about something and guidelines about whatever, you usually paying more attention to the material if it was any regular day but wanting to strangle yourself because the education system was preventing you from being with your man.

your phone lit up suddenly with a notification, you smiling softly to yourself upon realizing who it was and sitting up, grabbing your phone to unlock it.

(gumi <3): how’s class baby

you quickly typed back a response.

(you): do you think if i pretend to pass out right now my professor will excuse me and i can just leave

(gumi <3): lol

(gumi <3): you only have thirty minutes left though right?

(you): okay but gumi what does that have to do with me wanting to pretend to pass out so i can go see you faster

(you): and make fan edits of you while i wait 

(you): I— I MEAN—

(gumi <3): omg

(gumi <3): you’ve made enough of those

(gumi <3): no more

you quietly scoffed in your seat, thumbs rapidly typing away.

(you): gumi i can’t believe you’re not supportive of my extra curricular activities rn

(you): after EVERYTHING i’ve done for you

(you): after all the times i’ve sucked your dick

(you): and i thought you liked my edits :(

megumi took a minute to respond before your phone buzzed again.

(gumi <3): LOL

(gumi <3): i do baby i’m kidding

(gumi <3): and don’t put that image in my head rn

(you): oh??????

(you): and why not???? ;))

(you): boner alert perhaps??? ;))

(you): maybe today during our cute little date you can take me to pound town in the back seat of your car and make me cum and cry all over your dick gumi!!

you shrunk further down in your seat and snickered quietly, funnily shielding your phone to prevent anyone else seated around you in your lecture from seeing the absurd messages on your phone.

(gumi <3): jesus fucking christ

(gumi <3): why are you doing this

(you): because i loooveee youuuu <33

(you): and i can’t wait to seee youuuu <333

(you): maybe i should go to the bathroom rn and send you a boobie pic :P

(gumi <3): please

(gumi <3): fuck wait my breaks over i have to go

(gumi <3): fuck

you mushed a hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from laughing out loud, typing a response.

(you): BAAAAHAHAHAH

(you): OMG IM SO SORRY GUMI

(you): HAVE A GOOD REST OF YOUR PRACTICE OKAY ILL SEE YOU IN A BIT! <3

(gumi <3): do you think if i pretend to pass out coach will excuse me

(you): NO GUMI 

(you): GOOOO

(you): GO PLAY GO PLAY

(gumi <3): god

(gumi <3): fine

(gumi <3): i love you pretty baby i’ll see you 

(gumi <3): and pay attention

(you): i love you too gumiiii !!! <333

(you): NO PROMISES BYE !!!

(you): SMOOOCCCHHHH

you breathed out softly through your nose and set your phone back down, one leg crossing over the other as you impatiently waited and practically glared at the powerpoint slides in front of you, your ankle bouncing and mind drifting off again— double checking over the list of things you and megumi needed for your date instead repeatedly in case you forgot something.

since your anniversary couldn’t be an all day thing, the two of you planned a cute little car picnic date at a star gazing hotspot out in the hills of the city, a place megumi had actually been to before in his childhood with gojo and his sister, and one he said he remembered to be nice and quiet with a good view of the stars, similar to how they looked like when you all went on that trip in the mountains a few months ago with his dad, yuji, and your best friend— the fact only making you overly ecstatic, since megumi suggesting something like that without a little gruff and huff was always a special rare sight to see.

and the only things megumi literally allowed you to bring were the fuzzy blankets and pillows and such, him forbidding you from buying absolutely anything else like snacks, drinks, and the food, saying that he had it and it was okay— simply only chuckling and lightly flicking your forehead when you grumbled and fought with him over it in the hopes that he would let you take care of at least half of the things.

he did not.

“alright i think i’ll stop here for today and let you guys go a little earl—”

you shot up from your desk and shoved your books in your bag, not even letting your professor finish before you were already up and speed walking out of the lecture hall and down your building, thanking the gods above for the thousandth time that megumi’s stadium was only a fifteen minute drive from your campus, and therefore made it so much easier for you to drive on over without difficulties and pretty much whenever the fuck wanted… which was all of the time.

just as you plopped in the drivers seat and chucked your bag to the passengers side, an apparent buzzing vibrated through the right back pocket of your skirt as you reached in to pull it out, your best friend’s name flashing at the top.

“hellooo!” you answered, swinging the door shut and turning on the ignition, the heater unit blasting through the vents and warming up the spiking chilly temperature in your car.

“hi babe!” your best friend greeted. “how far away are you?”

“i just got out of class! i should be there in about ten if i go over the speed limiiit.” you grinned, putting your phone on speaker and setting it down on your lap, backing out of your parking space.

“SHE SAID TEN MINUTES GOING OVER THE SPEED LIMIT MEGU— what?! i can’t— i can’t hear you idiot you’re across the fucking field!—”

you laughed loudly as you drove out of your campus parking lot, zooming down the street and going the usual route to his stadium.

“oh my— megumi ordered and yelled at me to call you to see how far you were babe.” she sighed. “when is this man ever gonna treat me fairly this is ridiculous— WHAT?! TELL HER WHAT?!—”

“i’m about eight minutes away now!” you laughed. “tell him that please i’m almost there—”

“WAIT SHE SAID SHE’S EIGHT MINUTES AWA— oh my god okay megumi says not to go over the speed limit and to park next to him in the players parking lot.”

“tell him i said watching him play baseball is more important than the law i don’t give a—”

“SHE SAID WATCHING YOU PLAY BASEBALL IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE LAW— oh he’s coming. save yourself and hang up y/n he’s coming— YUJI GET HIM HE’S GONNA TAKE MY PHONE— ARGH STOP!—”

“—go over the speed limit and see what happens.”

a different deeper voice muttered over the line, partially out of breath and one you instantly recognized to be megumi’s as you giggled.

“gumi the speed limit is a social construct and if i don’t get to watch you play for the last thirty minutes of practice i’m gonna gauge my eyeballs out.”

“baseball’s also a social construct.” he deadpanned. “and you watch me play all of the time baby don’t speed you drive like a fucking street racer sometimes.”

“but isn’t it cool and sexy that i do? eehh?” you quipped in a silly way. “and i don’t care how many times i’ve seen you play gumi… i still need to be admitted into a mental facility each time it’s embarrassing.”

he chuckled softly.

“you almost here?”

“yeah! i’m just pulling into the stadium i’m going over to your structure right now.”

“okay.” he spoke. “park next to me please.”

“—megumi i told her that already—”

“can you not eavesdrop—”

“—if it has to do with y/n fuck no—”

“—okay!” you sputtered while shifting your gear to park and turning off the ignition, cutting their bickering off. “i’m here gumi i’m gonna walk to the stadium now.”

“alright i’ll see you baby.” 

“i’ll see you!—”

“your phone time’s revoked asswipe give me my device right now—”

“—can you mind your fucking business for two seconds—”

“NO!—”

you winced and hung up the phone, shaking your head amusedly as you grabbed your keys and stepped out of the car before locking it, walking your way over across the parking structure and to the entrance of the stadium, maneuvering through various hallways and corners like muscle memory and politely saying hello to some of the team’s staff that you recognized as you walked.

you passed through the main hall— megumi’s giant glorious handsome portrait still displayed proudly against the wall amongst his other teammates, prestigious awards and trophies in glass frames and casings littering the room from practically top to bottom as you happily moved through the hall, passing by the same bench that you first unknowingly and officially met megumi in while you were embarrassingly crying your eyes out over him— a treasured memory that you swoon over every now and then at the way he kindly gave you his sunglasses to hide your big fat tears.

you hoped that megumi’s management never replaced that freaking bench, as you wanted to put a plaque on it in commemoration of you and your emo man, knowing that if they ever did you’d be at those stadium doors first thing in the morning to grab and take it home with you to keep.

upon opening the doors to the stadium, you continued on down the steps as you looked on ahead and squinted your eyes, distant hollers and the clanking of bats echoing through the otherwise peaceful atmosphere, several players out on the field practicing and pitching but none being megumi as you reached the bottom and went inside the bullpen, expecting to see your best friend sitting there and possibly still fighting with your boyfriend, but faltering instead.

because megumi was sat there on the bench by himself with his baseball cap on… waiting for you, a bouquet of pretty pink tulips in his arms as he looked straight over the field with an emotionless gaze, his head snapping to you once he heard you coming in and standing up, his face gradually warming.

pink tulips were your favorite.

“gumi…” you spoke softly, astonished and mushy inside as you grabbed the bouquet from him, it neatly tucked in brown paper wrap and pretty pink tule with a little matching bow around the stems to tie it off, the paper crinkling in your arms.

“hi.”

“oh my— these are gorgeous baby thank you!” you gushed, your cheeks hot and you absolutely beaming as you swung your unoccupied arm around his neck and brought him in, pecking his slightly sweaty cheek repeatedly as he huffed out a breathy laugh and pulled you to him.

“you’re welcome.” he murmured, cheek lightly resting against the side of your head as you smiled.

“you really didn’t have to gumi you bought basically everything for today…” you spoke softly, bringing your head back a bit to look at him.

he shrugged.

“so.”

you scoffed. “so? you don’t let me do anything and i feel oppressed.”

he snorted, playfully rolling his eyes and kissing your forehead. 

dramatic.

“it’s fine baby.”

“okay but it’s not.” you grumbled lowly, and the corners of his lips quirked up, taking a tiny step back as he released you and lifted a hand, gently pinching your cheek.

“you look really pretty.”

your pout slid into a cheeky smile, a cute blush rising to your cheeks.

“thank you gumi!” you readjusted the bouquet in your arms and shyly looked away, his direct dark blue eyes on you still nerve wracking even after two years. 

“h— how come you’re not on the field?”

“oh.” megumi’s gaze shifted to his playing teammates. “i wanted to give you the tulips before going back out.”

your eyes softened, chest clenching as you stood up on your tippy toes and gave him a little kiss.

“you’re so nice…” you murmured. 

“i—”

“fushiguro i need you back on the field!”

megumi huffed and rolled his eyes at his coach interrupting his time with you, hands reluctantly dropping from your waist as he took a step back.

“m’sorry baby...” he sighed tiredly, lifting his cap up from his spiky hair and adjusting it back on. “practice is almost over i promise.”

you frantically shook your head. “no gumi it’s okay don’t apologize! go please though i don’t want you to get in trouble.”

he nodded, quickly pecking your cheek before stepping out of the bullpen and back out on the field, turning his body slightly just as he reached the home plate and raising a hand to you as a little goodbye, shifting his attention to his coach and the rest of his teammates once he saw you give him one back.

you walked over to the benches then and sat, your eyes happily watching the mock game unfold as you settled your pretty bouquet carefully over your lap.

“please tell me you guys are done it’s fucking cold up here in the stands—”

your head shot to the side and you instantly smiled, your best friend popping her head in from the bullpen entrance and shivering.

“heyyy! oh my god yes come come—” you scooched over and patted the spot next to you, her trodding over and plopping down.

“let me seeeee!” she squealed and nudged your shoulder with hers, gesturing to your tulips as you lit up and turned the bouquet in her direction, her jaw dropping.

“i hate him but he’s good.” she muttered, shaking her head as you laughed and lightly hit her arm. 

megumi ran through a few bases, passing by the bullpen and stopping at a base closest to it with remnants of brown dirt puffing and swirling through the air, him looking over his shoulder at you briefly before turning back to the game.

“he does so much for me that i feel like a big fat loser that does mediocre for him.” you spoke worriedly, and your girl friend looked at you bewilderedly.

“are you kidding? y/n you being with him is enough jesus that man is an ogre—”

you flicked her forehead and she cackled, pushing your hand away.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry i’m joking… kind of…whatever— babe you literally do so much let him dote on you like this… that man loves you.”

you pursed your lips to suppress a giddy smile.

“plus after the pain and torture we both went through with your high school boyfriend christ—”

“oh my god don’t remind me.” you mumbled, shifting your attention back to the field. “he sucked so bad.”

she laughed. “and it took you forever to realize that he was a loser y/n… you gave him too much and he gave you absolutely nothing.”

you solemnly nodded, the feeling of miserable regret filling your body.

“granted i think megumi’s also a loser.” she continued, and you playfully glared. “but! he’s a different kind of loser. he’s good for you babe… and you’re super good for him.”

you grinned brightly at her, set your bouquet to the side, and threw your arms around her shoulders, bringing her in a tight hug as she laughed loudly and held you back with just as much love.

“have fun on your anniversary date tonight!” your girl friend exclaimed. “you guys are still going to that stargazing spot right?”

“mhm!” you nodded. “we’re going up in his car and setting up the backseat once we get there.”

“are you guys getting freaky too back there?—”

your head snapped ahead to find yuji leaning against the gate of the bullpen on the other side, your eyes wide and mortified as he wiggled his eyebrows suggestingly.

“h—huh?—”

“eehhh?” your best friend matched her boyfriends expression, her eyes twinkling and mischievous. “valid question yu! what are you wearing under your outfit let me see—”

you yelped as your best friend pulled and tugged at the collar of your chunky knitted sweater, basically shoving her head through to see what you had on and you pushing on her shoulders to try and get her away.

“stop you sicko!—”

“y/n why the fuck don’t you have a lingerie set under here—”

“oh my god shut your mouth right now—”

megumi curiously turned his head over to the commotion by the bullpen, jaw dropping and eyes growing big in absolute dumb struck horror as he watched your best friend basically trying to strip your sweater off of you, and yuji just standing there and watching like a fucking pervert—

“itadori!” he barked, and yuji jumped a whopping fifteen feet in the air, swiveling around to face him.

“oh hey man!— WHAT THE FU—”

megumi hurled a literal baseball at him and yuji dove out of the way, the ball hitting against the gate of the bullpen as you and your best friend jumped at the slamming noise.

“the fuck are you guys doing?!” megumi yelled, arms out in emphasis as he quickly strode over with pinched brows.

he looked to you as soon as he properly reached the bullpen, the collar of your sweater stretched out over an exposed shoulder with your black bra literally peeking out, your pretty eyes wide and downright alarmed as your best friend still had an iron tugging grip on your sweater.

megumi’s gaze hardened, switching to your girl friend.

“get off.”

he looked to yuji, his legs wobbling in fear as he used the gaps of the bullpen gate to lift himself up from the dirt.

“close your fucking eyes—”

“yes sir fushiguro sir!—”

“what?!” your best friend exclaimed. “megumi if you guys are gonna fuck in the backseat she needs to be looking scrumptious—”

his face paled and his cheeks turned a vibrant pink simultaneously.

“why are you guys always like this?” he muttered exasperatedly, stepping inside the bullpen now and pushing her off of you, your girl friend scoffing as megumi pulled your collar back over your shoulder and fixed your sweater for you, your lips clamped shut as you tried your best to refrain yourself from laughing.

“oh my bad. thought the perv in you would thank my services—”

“why the hell would i thank you for stripping my girlfriend in front of the entire fucking team—”

“—y/n i literally think i have a lingerie set in my car i’ll give it to you it’s new i just bought it to show yuji—”

you gasped. 

“wait really?! what color? i wanted to wear one but i didn’t want to show up to class with it—”

megumi’s eyes bulged and shot to you, mouth opening and closing like an idiot.

“i think it’s red but i’m pretty sure your tits are bigger than mine lemme see—”

your best friend yanked your collar again and you screamed as megumi grabbed you and pulled you up against his chest, shielding you away from your lunatic girl friend as she cackled and pointed at megumi.

“megumi’s getting a boonneeerrrr!—”

his eyes frantically switched between her and yuji— his hands still tightly clasped over his eyes.

“what kind of sick fucks are you both?!”

you giggled uncontrollably over his appalled menacing face, your laughter muffling up against his uniform.

“us?!” your best friend yelled. “don’t get me started on you! i saw that text you sent y/n last week asking to send a video of her fi—”

“oh god babe don’t finish that sentence also can i open my eyes now you guys—”

“itadori! fushiguro! huddle up!”

yuji timidly seperated his fingers and looked at the group, hands dropping and a wide smile spreading once he realized you weren’t half naked anymore.

“off we go fushiguro!” he quipped, turning and the dirt crackling beneath his cleats as he walked. “boss man wants us—”

“i heard him.” megumi grumbled, arms loosening from their hold around you as they slid and fell at his sides, his face just plain out annoyed and over it, and you smiled sweetly at him.

“it’s okay!” you poked his cheek. “i’ll wait for you here while you guys finish up? or do you want me to go inside the locker rooms already?”

“go to the locker rooms baby.” he mumbled. “it’s cold.”

you nodded, and he placed a hand on your head with the tiniest smile, heading out of the bullpen after and jogging up to the rest of his teammates for regrouping and final announcements.

your best friend swung a heavy arm around your shoulders and you both made your way to the exit just as you grabbed your bouquet again, walking up the steps of the stands and down a few corridors and pathways until you reached the echoey hallway, the teams locker room coming into view as you pushed the heavy door open and went in.

“do you still want my lingerie set?” your girl friend asked, fixing her hair in front of one of the big mirrors. “we could still try and see if it fits but your boobs are huge compared to mine—”

you laughed and waved her off. “it’s okay babe! thank you though… i don’t think we’re gonna do anything like that out in the open and in the middle of nowhere…”

she shrugged, sending you a little smirk through the mirror. “megumi’s a weirdo. so i think you in fact will.”

you shot her a funny glare and walked to your boyfriends locker while placing your pretty bouquet down on the bench— turning the little knob around and hitting the numbers that made up his locker combination, the metal clinking open and you opening it to organize his clothes and equipment like you usually did.

you dragged his heavy duffel bag out and unzipped it, rummaging around a little to find the clothes that he had packed for your date today— spotting his thick black crewneck and gray cargo pants as you took them out and folded them neatly on the bench in front of you, setting the rest of the things he needed to the side and perking up once you heard distant chattering and banter, several players starting to pile in as you shot a few polite smiles, stepping over the bench and plopping down to wait for megumi.

“i said no.”

“pleeeaaasee!” yuji begged, the two of them emerging from the entryway as you lit up at the sight of your grumpy man, his agitated eyes to the floor as he trudged over. “i thought we were best friends fushiguro. brothers if you will—”

“no.”

“pleaaaseee!—”

“what does he want?” you laughed softly, megumi’s eyes coming up and moving to his tidily folded clothes that you had set for him on the bench, his gaze softening.

“nothing bab—”

“wrestle!” yuji wailed, dramatically leaning his entire weight on your best friend in a hug as she dumbfoundedly reciprocated, patting his back. “i wanted to see who’s strongest…”

“babe go change you’re sweaty—”

“not until fushiguro wrestles with me—”

“no.”

“whyyy?!”

you giggled loudly, hand over your mouth as megumi sent you a small close lipped smile and stepped over the bench to his locker, taking off his baseball cap and hanging it inside.

“because it’s stupid.” he mumbled, and yuji scoffed.

“wrestling is the ultimate sport for strategy, discipline and character how could any of that be stupid—”

“yu change i wanna go homeee!” your best friend whined, trying to pry him off of her. “i’ll wrestle with you.”

yuji sprung up and grinned. “will you actually?! i won’t go easy babe i can’t play favorites—”

“yes now move—”

“if i win can you suck my di—”

megumi flung his deodorant at yuji’s head and rolled his eyes as he cried out and pouted, the little container clattering against the ground.

“gumi!” you gasped. “be nice please.”

he sighed softly through his nose, unbuttoning his jersey as he begrudgingly and briefly looked over his shoulder.

“sorry.”

“oh wait what was that?” you girl friend spoke up. “i think you need to speak up a little megumi! can’t hear you.”

“i said sorry.” he spat, and she smiled, satisfied.

“you’re forgiven! thanks!”

megumi grumbled as he shook his jersey off and long sleeve underneath with it, his little chain with his promise ring dangling out around his collar, and you shamelessly and obviously drooling over his bare toned frame then as he sorted through his clothes and got his things ready for the shower— the locker room emptying out now and only one or two players remaining besides the lot of you.

you extended a hand out, wanting megumi to give you his jersey and long sleeve as he shifted his attention to you.

“what baby.”

“i’ll put it in the laundry bin for you!” you spoke sweetly. “so you can go shower.”

his heart squeezed as he shook his head. “s’okay. just wait for me.”

“gumi the laundry room’s just down the hall.” you laughed, taking his uniform from him. “i’ll be quick.”

he pursed his lips, feeling like you’ve already done more than enough for him and him just dicking around and playing ball for hours this entire time, wanting to get your date started so he could spend time with you and give you the things he wanted to give you, and not be around idiot insane people anymore (yuji and your best friend).

“sit down please.” he mumbled.

your jaw dropped.

“i’m being oppressed again—”

“we’ll see you guys tomorrow!” your girl friend smiled, coming over and giving you a hug as yuji went to put a hand on megumi’s shoulder. “have fun on your date! and happy anniversaryyy!”

“thank youuuu!” you responded kindly, hugging her back and swaying funnily, letting her go after and looking to her boyfriend. “drive safe yuji okay?”

“will do!” he smiled brightly, wrapping a friendly arm around your shoulders and pulling you in. “have fun you guys. and don’t get mauled by bears.”

you snorted, the both of you pulling back and waving at each other with final goodbyes before they turned and began walking to the exit, now the only ones left in the locker rooms being you and megumi. 

“text me if you have sex in the back y/n!”

“oh my god!—” you miserably dropped your head in your hands as your girl friends vulgar sentence literally echoed throughout the hallway outside, anyone within a one inch radius able to hear it as megumi laughed quietly, the doors to the locker room officially closing.

“your best friend is clinically insane.”

you giggled, nudging him away playfully and him catching your wrist just as you did so, tugging you in and wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

“no she’s not.” you smiled cutely, your little cheek pressed up against the warm skin of his chest as he looked at you. “she’s honest. and lovely.”

“and deluded.”

“gumi!”

“sorry.”

he craned his neck down and kissed you, every tense muscle in his body giving away and slowly oozing into a state of peace as your soft lips moved with his, megumi finally having you to himself for the night so he could properly get your anniversary going.

he pulled away and patted your head.

“m’gonna shower really quick baby.”

“okay!” you smiled. “can i sit by the shower with you? heh.”

he chuckled and nodded, interlocking his fingers with yours and pulling you towards the shower room— a spacious and modern area with individual stalls and little plushy sofas across from them, megumi leading you to one as you sat down and took his fresh pair of clothes from him to set on your lap.

“remember when i fucked you in here.”

“gumi!” you gasped as your face grew red. “okay but which time because my favorite time was two weeks ago when you bent me over th—”

he laughed, the boyish sound bouncing off the tile walls as he shook his head with a little faint blush to his cheeks, fingers coming down to unbutton his pants and your hands flying to cover over your eyes, him pausing and looking at you quizzically.

“what.”

“i’m giving you privacy gumi. something you wouldn’t know about in regards to me.”

he scoffed.

“kay fine. i’ll stop asking—”

“no!” you yelled, hands clasping together like a prayer. “don’t finish that sentence i don’t wanna know i don’t need to know whatever it is continue doing it—”

megumi rolled his eyes with a smile, taking off the rest of his clothes and you squeaking as you covered your line of sight again, the sound of the shower running with the door closing an indicator to you that the coast was clear for you to look, hands coming down as they settled over megumi’s clean clothes.

and he literally took less than five minutes to shower… or maybe it was because your little endless chattering made the time go by faster or the fact that you always took close to an hour, but he was out of there with a towel around his delicious waist before you could even realize and on the way out to change into his outfit.

megumi straight from the shower was always an interesting sight to see, for the usual spikes in his jet black hair were nonexistent for the time being as his hair just laid flat, and he almost looked like an entirely different man as you stood on the other side of the bench behind him while he sat tying his shoe laces, you drying his hair with a small white hand towel.

“i’m really excited for tonight gumi!” you cheesed. “oh! and i brought my laptop too incase you wanted to watch a movieeee.”

he straightened up from his hunched over position and stood, turning around to kiss your head in gratitude before taking the towel from you and drying off the last bit of his hair.

“sounds good baby.” he grabbed his duffel bag and swung it over his shoulder, keys hooked from one of his belt loops on his pants as he offered his hand out to you on the way out of the locker room, you happily taking it and interlacing your fingers in the hallway, the both of you walking on to leave the stadium with your bouquet in your arm, making a quick pit stop at the laundry room first to toss his uniform and towels in one of the various hampers, leaving and going through the main hall hand in hand after with the building basically vacant now— not a single player, staff, or management member around as you moved your way down corridors to the exit, entering the parking garage.

megumi grabbed his keys and clicked a button upon reaching the players parking lot area, his shiny black car beeping and flickering its lights and him opening the door to the backseat to throw his stuff in, you catching a glimpse of the piles of grocery bags filled with chips, snacks, pastries and such as you smiled, unlocking your own vehicle and opening your trunk as megumi did his.

he swiftly stepped in and grabbed your blankets and a few pillows, transferring them over to his car and you setting your bouquet down in the back, throwing in a few other things.

“oh gumi!” 

“hm?”

you opened your drivers side door and reached in, megumi peering around from his open trunk to look at you.

“i got us a little lunchbox cake!” you pulled out a small white cake carrier and showed him. “and a number two candle too so we can light it!”

“oh nice baby.” he calmly smiled, reaching into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulling out his wallet.

you blinked.

“what are you doing?”

he gave you a confused look, opening the folds and taking out a few twenty dollar bills.

“for the cake.”

“what?!” you frantically shook your head. “no i got this for us—”

he scoffed, extending his arm out to you regardless with a pile of bills in hand that was way over the initial cost of the little cake, your jaw running slack.

“oh absolutely not sir i’m not taking that—”

“take it.”

“nope!”

“y/n.”

“nuh uh.”

megumi sighed and retracted his hand. “i’m putting it in your purse—”

“if you put it in my purse i swear to god i’m never letting you see me naked ever again—”

he froze and narrowed his eyes at you, you standing there with a shit eating grin as you tilted your head.

“just get in the car.” he grumbled, slamming his trunk shut and doing the same with yours, you cheering in your head and lighting up over your win as you opened his passenger side door and got in, completely unaware of megumi choosing to take his chances and shove the bills in your purse anyways.

the car ride there was a whopping one hour, seeing as the stargazing hotspot was in the middle of the bustling city where megumi’s apartment was around, your boyfriend making frequent stops at various food places to pick up the food he had ordered for the picnic, and you still fighting with him over the fact that he should let you pay at least half, him just laughing at your huffs and puffs until he simmered you down to a mere grumble with a kiss to your cheek.

“i don’t care how many times i’ve done it there isn’t a limit.” 

megumi backed in reverse once he found a good spot for you both on the hill, looking behind through his rear view window with a hand on the back of your headrest.

“but you have to let me pay sometimes gumi.” you sighed softly. “i feel like im freeloading off of your millions and doing fucking nothing.”

he gave you a bewildered look.

“first of all.” he shifted his gear into park. “you do everything so don’t give me that. second of all—”

he unlocked the car and you both got out, the trunk latching open on its own as you walked over.

“you’re not supposed to pay baby.” he stared at you sincerely, a little crease in between his brows. “ever. i don’t care.”

he unhooked the backseats and pushed them down, the trunk now extending even wider and leaving plenty of space for the two of you to set up your picnic, your shoes off and down below next to the car.

“i just—” you struggled, shaking out the blankets and splaying them out. “i worry that it’ll bother you eventually…”

“it won’t.” he responded firmly, yet still gentle. “did your ex-boyfriend make you feel bad about it? is that why?”

you froze.

“no…”

he looked over his shoulder just as he set a pillow down, dark blue eyes staring you down.

“wow i’m so hungry right now gumi are you—”

“i heard what your best friend said during practice about him.” he set a few more pillows down. “she talks like a linebacker.”

you laughed, grabbing the box of fairy lights you had brought and pulling them out, untangling them by sections.

megumi never really asked too in detail about your ex, just because he knew he’d get bitter and bothered by the thought of it, and the only things he really knew was that he was a moron who said you were a blabbermouth and didn’t treat you right at all, your three and a half year relationship with him in high school one megumi wished he could erase entirely.

but now with the way you squirmed and stared off into space in avoidance over this particular topic… he was curious.

just how bad was he?

“did he pay for your dates or did you.”

you fiddled with a little fairy light bulb.

“well— he did… but then we started splitting it… and then i started paying…”

megumi shook his head, reaching for the grocery bags and taking out the snacks he’d bought.

“why.”

you finished untangling the cord and reached up, looping the lights around through the grab handles of the car.

“i don’t really know…” you mumbled. “but i felt bad because he always did initially pay… so i was just giving back. but then—”

you looped it through the last handle and grabbed the battery box.

“i remember one time he asked me if we could split the bill on our anniversary dinner.”

megumi stopped.

“and then every time he did pay for me he would say side joking comments like— ‘are you gonna pay this time? are you gonna take care of the bill? since i bought you dinner are you gonna buy me this?’ blah blah—”

megumi was looking directly at you at this point, eyebrows furrowed and with slightly parted lips as he slowly set up the food and listened.

“and i don’t mess around when it comes to things like money.” you finished off screwing the battery box after putting a fresh pair in, switching the small lever and the fairly lights twinkling to life. “i appreciated so much every time he did pay so i just felt like i was— i don’t know i just felt guilty. his side comments made me feel a little awkward…”

you scooched over and sat back on your ankles next to megumi, helping him with the groceries.

“i remember one time too for valentine’s day, we had gone out to eat dinner and he paid with his usual side comment… but when we got back to his place i had given him his gift and he hadn’t gotten anything for me at all.”

“huh?” he spoke up. “did he give you flowers at least?”

you shook your head, a little sad look on your face.

“he told me my gift was dinner… which again i did really appreciate that he paid. and he never really got me flowers either unless it was for special occasions like anniversaries… so once a year?”

megumi was in complete and utter disbelief.

how in the ever living fuck were you ever with a guy like that for so long? a girl like you whom he literally worshipped the shit out of the ground you walked on, the thought of you being so incredibly sweet and doting and selfless for some dumb fuck who just took advantage of your kindness again aggravating megumi, him chucking the pastries he bought out of the bags one by one bitterly and you blinking at him.

“what a fucking idiot.”

you giggled, nodding in agreement as you both finished setting up, you crawling and sitting down by the mountain of fluffy pillows as you extended an arm out for him.

“that’s why i just get nervous gumi…” you spoke softly, pulling him to lay down next to you as you looked at the beading stars through his open sun roof, the view and landscape of the sparkling city below insane as megumi slid an am around your shoulders, nudging you to lay on his chest. “i don’t wanna end up bothering you or upsetting you about it and repeating the cycle so—”

“oh god baby no…” he looked at you, squeezing your shoulder. “you realize all of that was because he’s a loser right.”

“yeah to an extent—”

“no not to an extent.” megumi cut you off. “i know for a fact he never did anything for you… and for him to do shit like that on top of it is crazy.”

you slid a slow arm across his torso and held him tighter.

“i do what i do because i love you… and because you deserve it. and because i’m supposed to.”

you smiled big, your heart hammering in your chest as you slung your leg across his lap and straddled him then, megumi’s hands instantly coming to settle on your waist as you gave him a cute wicked look.

“i’m tired of talking about him, but you know what else you’re supposed to do?”

the side of his lip curled.

“what pretty baby.”

“make out with me.”

he laughed, a shiny smile on his face as he reached a hand up and brushed your hair over your shoulder, cupping your face after and bringing you down to his level.

“if you tell me you love me.”

you giggled.

“i love you gumi.”

megumi brought you in then and kissed you, light little smacks and wet lips parting and moving as your noses brushed against each other’s delicately, his thumb running gently over your cheek as you readjusted and leaned in, deepening the kiss and megumi parting his lips wider as a result to drink more of you down.

your hips subconsciously rutted downward, him taking a sharp breath in through his nose as he responded and lifted his crotch up, meeting with yours and grinding sensually with every steamy exchange of your soft plush lips on his, both of his hands quickly going down to grab your smooth thighs and knead them.

megumi suddenly slid a fast hand up your chunky sweater to cup your tit, you squeaking and trying to pull your lips off of his so you could speak, but him only chasing after your mouth and trapping you in.

“wait what if— mmph!—” 

“hm?” 

he forced your hips down again and you both moaned at the stimulation.

“what if someone walks by there’s a— fuck— there’s a few cars not too far—”

“don’t care.”

“gumi!—”

he yanked your bra cup down and your tit spilled out, his head diving in under your sweater and popping your nipple in his mouth, both of your hips still grinding and rocking against each others as you dazedly tried to look around for any passing people.

you tried to pull off and megumi yanked your other bra cup down, jerking you roughly to him as your weight gave out underneath you and you basically fell on him, his face fully submerged and stuffed in your puffy tits that he nearly lost it and came in his pants.

lewd slobbering sounds filled the car as he sucked and laid his tongue flat all over your boobs, your shuttering gasps and whines making his dick rock fucking solid in his pants as he continued to make out with your chest, relishing in the feeling of your panties running up and down his crotch and your pretty little skirt exposing your ass.

“baby i’m flashing the city please—”

“m’gonna stick my dick in.”

“no!” you whined, your clit pulsing with every rut from his hips. “when we get home when we get home please it’ll be so obvious we’re having sex if we do—”

he bit the fat of your tit and you yelped.

“it’s our anniversary.”

“i— i know gumi but there’s people!—”

he groaned and let your tits go with a pop, head falling back on the pillows as he looked at you with a dead look— knowing you were completely and absolutely right but refusing to believe it because he was fucking horny, the only conscious brain cell that he had left telling him to just wait and that he’d actually cum in his pants if he kept going.

a tiny smirk spread across his face.

“thought you texted me that i could take you to pound town in the backseat of my car.” 

you blushed, totally forgetting you did that.

“y—yes but—”

“and that you were gonna send me a picture of your tits.”

“i—”

“you lying to me baby?”

“no!” you sputtered. “no gumi we’re still gonna have sex just not here!”

he laughed loudly and nodded, pinching your cheek as he fixed your bra and pulled your sweater down, sitting up a bit.

“i’m kidding s’okay.” he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “m’taking pictures of you when we get to my apartment though.”

“huh?!” you exclaimed, your face buzzing with embarrassment but need at the same time. “what— what kind—”

he poked your side. 

“naked.”

your jaw dropped.

“legs spread with—”

“okay i get it i get it!—”

you slapped your hands over his mouth and muffled the rest of his sentence, desperate to get him to stop.

“i have your gift i have your gift open your gift!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and licked his slimy tongue on your palms, you snatching your hands away and giggling as you wiped them on his sweater.

“i told you not to get me anything.”

“too bad!” you grinned, pecking his cheek before swinging yourself off of his lap and reaching into the passengers seat. “close your eyes!”

he sighed softly, a small smile on his face as he complied, hearing slight tissue paper rustlings and things moving before he felt you next to him again.

“okay open!”

his long lashes lifted, eyes growing soft at the ginormous basket you made him— his favorite candies and chips neatly propped up inside with a little baseball teddy bear that had ‘cool baseball man’ embroidered across its jersey, a framed silly picture of the two of you from one of the nights you slept over at his place, various volumes of his current favorite manga wrapped in black tissue paper along with a lego race car set, and a separate shoe box next to the basket— a brand new pair of baseball cleats that he had been specifically eyeing and needing to buy, and knowing that it was ridiculously expensive too as his bulging eyes shot up to your giddy ones.

“baby—” his words got caught in his throat, shaking his head. “baby thank you but you didn’t have to get anything seriously—”

“the fuck.” you snorted. “yes i did! do you likeeee?”

you pushed the shoe box towards him.

“did i get the right ones? these are the cleats you’ve been wanting right?”

he nodded dumbly. “y—yeah but they’re expensive i don’t want you spending this much.”

“gumi money is a social construct.” you smiled. “but my love for you isn’t… it’s bible! happy anniversary!”

megumi looked down and slowly took the little grizzly bear out of the basket, everything you gave him absolutely perfect and filled with the things he loved, but the custom bear with the nickname you always called him— the same one he adored ever since you first said it, somehow pulling at his heart strings more than anything else.

“i love you.” he mumbled. “thank you.”

you beamed, leaning over and pecking his lips.

“because you do everything for me gumi.” you spoke. “i can’t thank you enough for the things you do for me… and i love you.”

a cute pink blush rose to his cheeks as his gaze stayed locked on the bear, feeling his throat closing up from how much you were affecting him at the moment.

he sent you a smile.

“can i give you mine?”

you stopped.

“what? i thought the pretty tulips were my gift?”

he snorted, giving you a look.

“no you dummy.” 

he reached under one of the seats, pulling gift bag after gift bag after gift bag from somewhere as he placed them all in a line in front of you, a shocked look on your face as you looked at the amount of tissue paper and packaging that was in your line of sight.

“holy shit.” you flashed him a growing dazzling smile. “are you— for me? actually?”

he nodded.

“guummiii!!” you flung your arms around his neck and pulled him in a tight hug, rubbing your cheek on his head side to side in a silly way before you let go and sat back on your ankles again, him chuckling at your excitement.

“i don’t even—” your eyes darted around. “i don’t even know which one—”

one by one you unraveled each wrapping and tore open each bag, your lap filling up with things that you fucking loved as you tried not to cry between opening each gift— pretty intricate coquette bottled perfumes that you liked to collect everywhere as you knew they were also a pretty penny (so him complaining about his cleats was dumb), cute mary jane pumps and makeup you needed as well as new that you’d been wanting, silver and gold sparkling jewelry that resided in small boxes and wrapped in pretty pink bows, sweaters and cute tops and just fucking everything as you ended up a crying snotting mess at the end of it anyways, him laughing at you.

because each item were things that you needed, things that you knew he couldn’t have possibly known unless he was truly paying attention to the things you were saying and the things you were looking at… this moment proving that he most definitely was.

and a crazy wicked amount too— because some of the items in front of you were even things you had merely mentioned once and done with, accompanied by others that you babbled on about whenever you could.

“gumi we can have sex right now let’s have sex i don’t care—”

he laughed for the millionth time and shot his hands out, literally trying to pull you off of him as you lunged and leaned your entire weight on him, practically fighting him by the end of it as you giggled and tried to get in his pants.

“you’re harassing me.” he mumbled, and you scoffed.

“like you don’t do this to me everyday of my living life— eek!”

megumi bit your cheek and you pushed on his chest to get him away, him not budging as his nibbling travelled down to your neck as you gasped for air laughing at how much that was tickling you, and him knowing that was what usually set you off into a giggle fit, your stomach aching and him dodging your hits and swings, but both of your hearts full from a days worth of complete and utter unconditional love.

and neither of you would have it any other way as you shared the food and pastries you bought, stuffing your faces full of chocolates and mochi specifically as you both had insane sweet tooth’s and weren’t ashamed of it, chatted on about future plans and your excitement for megumi and the upcoming world series, and you elated for the holiday season too that was fast approaching, your little mind already thinking of gifts and plans and decisions because your boyfriend’s birthday was coming up as well.

and you wanted to do everything you possibly could to make it special.

for he made you feel that everyday.

especially now in this moment, the little heart shaped lunchbox cake you bought with ‘happy 2nd anniversary’ in cursive still looking fucking delicious even after you and megumi had just downed an entire pack of brownies, megumi lightning up the number two candle as you pushed it in the cake, and the both of you sweetly pecking lips as you held up the cake in between the two of you and him snapping a picture with his phone— candid and lovely and everything you’d both ever wanted in your lives rightfully yours right then and there.

happiness. love. 

and your hearts were swelling with everything you had built for the past two years, and swelling in anticipation for the hopes and curiosity of what else the two of you would continue to build… something you only hoped would last forever and ever and that you got to count and spend even more anniversaries with megumi from this point forward.

with nothing less, nothing extra, and just like this.

for a million more november’s to come.

taglist!! <33 (THANK YOU THANK YOU!):

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[vaguely-concerned]

My two cents on how much of Mind!Varric is Rook’s mind trying to fill the blank space and how much is Solas actively talking through a convenient blood magic paper doll of the mind: I think it's a mix of both, a truly collaborative psychosocial horrorshow if you would, but waaaay more towards the second. It feels too directed and tactical at times to be anything else. Rook's mind is willing to go along with the denial phase as far as it can fucking carry them to not have to face the grief and regret and does its part in papering over details that don’t make any sense, the way brains will strive to create coherent meaning even out of deeply confusing input, but to my understanding it's a collaborateur in how that plays out, not the instigator or control center. Solas is using it as a path to agency and to gather insight into Rook as a person unguarded as he can't count on in his own guise. (That stoic option that leads to him being like 'oh I see you're cautiously denying me access to your inner life. well. at least you still have Varric to talk to. y'know as an outlet :)'. You absolute BITCH Solas! That alone convinced me that he HAS to have an active hand in it on some level.)

My guess is that it takes considerable effort on Solas’ part to make Mind!Varric do anything more involved or complicated than seeming to sit up in bed and give casual commentary, and that’s why he keeps having eerie five minute shallow pep talks with you before he announces he conveniently needs a nap aaanyway good luck kid you got this haha. When he’s just spouting NPC lines from his bedrest, I’m ready to believe that could be Rook’s mind being allowed to improv lines for him more freely because it’s less about Solas trying to get something out of them or working an angle and more ‘Still here! Still totally alive and fine and the mentor figure you know and love and trust :) don’t even worry about it! Thankfully there is no war in Ba Sing Sei, as we all know’ upkeep work lol. Rook’s mind is allowed to set the tone of Varric, the outlines, but not always the content. 

AND, on a (beautifully fucked up) character psychology level, I feel like Solas is indulging in actually getting to be the good supportive mentor figure to Rook with one hand to assuage the guilt he feels about what he's done -- and what he's going to do -- to them with the other. Same internal logic as he uses in Trespasser about the Qun. ‘Almost everyone is going to die from the course of action I’m doggedly pursuing eventually. But at least I can make their last years happier and freer and kinder than they would have been otherwise. and that kind of makes up for it right. a little bit. doesn't it. doesn't that make it better at least. I need that to make it better)'. Did I really take your beloved mentor and friend from you if you don’t know yet that I did? Some philosophers would argue not really! So it’s probably almost ok actually. Isn’t it even a little noble that I’m taking all this grief and guilt on myself and shielding you for now. With undertones that I’m not sure he would realize himself (and might be mortified by if he did) that he is so incredibly lonely, and even a dishonest and indirect emotional connection is more than nothing when you’re that desperate. In this setup he gets idk. Both the control he craves so incredibly badly in relationships and over himself, and the scraps, the fading afterimages, of intimacy and warmth and companionship, even second hand. The one thing Solas and Rook agree on deep deep down is that they really wish Varric weren't gone. They're handshake memeing this in the saddest and most creepy way possible.

I think an important element too is that Solas needs Rook and their team to *succeed* —  up to a certain point. He needs someone to hold the two other elven mean girls off until he can get out of here. Ideally, in a perfect world, even do all the hard work of killing them so he can swoop in at the end and do his thing when both sides are exhausted and out of resources to stop him, and then Bob’s your uncle! Same logic as he was using with Corypheus, and after that worked out so well, too! King of choosing to never learn from a single solitary mistake he’s ever made even though i fully believe he could have the capacity to Fen’Harel <3 The underlying idea isn’t flawed, you see, it was just unforeseen circumstances getting in the way. This time for sure it’ll all work out the way I cleverly imagined it in my head beforehand. Cue By Talos this can’t be happening etc. in the form of a statue almost crushing him like a bug. 

So he's providing guidance and forging Rook into a leader from two angles: one Rook might not trust, and one they probably will. Shaping them into what he needs slowly and carefully. He’s helping you hone your team into their most effective state, as he might have done with his own agents back in the day, setting up his chess pieces even if he has to squint through two glimpsed realities to do it haha. Pincer maneuver of an insidious stealth mentor you never asked for. Also… at one point mind Varric gives you a whole little monologue about how Solas' problem is that he’s always seen his interpersonal connections as flaws and see where it’s landed him, all alone and the worst part? it hasn’t even worked. it’s all been for nothing he’s back where he began with nothing to show for it but his mistakes. Like...that has such strong 'uh okay happy to play your therapist from two rooms away here what the fuck kind of traumadump is this' energy to me, I’m not sure Rook like. Thinks that much about Solas as a private person. So much of Solas' self-loathing and futile insights into his own flaws seem to shine through in Mind!Varric's dialogue all the time — I just can't believe that there's no guiding hand behind it as it were. 

Most of all. I feel like people underestimate the degree to which Solas is incredibly funny. As in, he has a very consistent and recognizable sense of humour. It’s one of my very favourite things about him. We must remember — it is crucial that we always keep in mind — Orlesian accent and wig Solas from May The Dread Wolf Take You (my beloved, the explanation for why I love this dude even with the. All of the everything else. No one does it quite like him). He is not at all above doing things or adding little flourishes for his own obscure amusement, in fact that seems to me to be one of his most consistent traits. The Randy Dowager Quarterly comment Varric has? The ‘Maybe this is the Dread Wolf’s revenge. Forcing us to house sit for him’ thing? To Me this is 100% Solas amusing himself in his boring Fade jail surrounded by the screaming hellscape of all his regrets. Source: it came to me as divine revelation through pure vibes trust me bro 

If nothing else I find it much more narratively interesting personally if the connection between Rook and Solas really is that defenselessly intimate and entwined (and so unbalanced!), and the sense of violation and invasion and betrayal afterwards consequently all the more nauseatingly intense. Even if you kept him at arm’s length in the open, he’s been under your skin the whole time, looking around, gathering what he needs to destroy you, wearing the face of a friend. Regretfully, probably, but choosing to do it every step of the way anyway. (Sound familiar, Inquisitor? Solas doesn’t have that many tricks when you actually look at it, he keeps returning to old tried and true ones like a dog with a bone haha.) Maybe he even genuinely meant some of it as mercy, which only makes it so much worse. It makes his sin against his own core principles of autonomy and the freedom of all beings in mind, spirit and body so much more juicily grave if it’s something he pursues actively and consistently, rather than it half-falling into his lap as a happy accident mainly orchestrated by Rook’s own subconscious. Solas, too, is at his very lowest point, the closest to giving in and becoming his own antithesis fully that he’s ever been, and it makes the choice of whether you still reach out your hand to him one last time or not all the more impactful and difficult.

[notlongtolove]

the fox and her hound

“a fox?” he repeated, and you nodded. “a vixen.” spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. so you show him. not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff with a pinch of angst

content: a love story told through the allegory of a fox and a hound, mentions of metaphorical wounds

word count: 2k

note: no linked poem bc idk just thought of this and wanted to write it. mayhaps im taking this nature trope a tad too far lol but anyways i will probably come back to edit this.

a line: They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes.

On your first date with Spencer, you’d asked him what animal he’d be. He had paused, tilting his head just slightly. He’s never understood why people ask questions like these. What animal? What color? What season? Animals are animals, colors are colors. It would be impossible to pick one to embody his entire being. Such separate realms of nature, totally different worlds, he thinks.

But you’re sitting across from him, head tilted, eyes glinting under dim light. Pretty. So pretty. He doesn’t want to disappoint you, doesn’t want you to think he’s boring or stiff or unfun. He wants to answer correctly, even though he knows there’s no “correct” answer to this.

“Maybe a golden retriever,” he said, trying to keep casual, “or a beagle. Something friendly.”

Something safe, he thinks. Something pretty girls statistically like.

You had smiled then, slow and soft, lifting the glass of whiskey to your lips, you said with all the certainty in the world:

“I’m a fox.”

“A fox?” he repeated, and you nodded.

“A vixen.” 

You didn’t explain it, just swirled your glass like you were swirling the word on your tongue. You loved the taste of it, loved the way it warmed your chest on the way down. Foxes are well-adapted to stay warm. Their thick winter coats, their long, bushy tails. They don’t need anyone to hold them when the frost bites or when the wind howls through the trees.

Spencer doesn’t understand why you call yourself a fox, not really. The dog stays close to the house. He doesn’t stray far, never been anywhere else. He doesn’t know. So you show him. Not all at once, but in pieces, small glimpses of your world that you let him catch—if he can keep up. The forest is dense, you see, the paths are winding and uneven. The shrubbery is thick, sharp branches clawing at the skin. There are logs in the way and the dog stumbles over them sometimes. You wonder if he’s getting tired, if your hidden path is too hard for him to navigate. If the spiders that weave their webs in his face and the fire ants that bite at his ankles are too painful to endure.

So, sometimes, you stop. You sit together on the forest floor, catching your breath. You wag your tails lazily and just talk.

“You know I’d never do anything to hurt you, right?” he asks one evening.

The fox doesn’t answer right away. Her ears twitch, and her eyes flicker toward the trees.

“I don’t like the word never,” she says finally, “It feels like an impossible standard.”

The dog thinks about this, his brow furrowing. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“I know,” she replies, her voice soft.

But the fox knows her way through the forest. She knows every twist and turn, every trap hidden beneath the leaves. You tell the dog he’d never catch up, sometimes hiding, sometimes running faster—just to see if he’ll try. Spencer doesn’t tell you how he sees that every time you disappear into the trees, you always turn back. Always looking over your shoulder, always checking to see if he’s still behind you. 

Eventually, you reach your den. Your fur coat is scratched and bruised from the branches and the logs, the forest leaving its marks on you like it always does. But you’re here. He’s here.

Silently, you wonder how many more times you’ll have to make this journey. You don’t think you can endure another. But you don’t say it.

Instead, you take him inside.

Your den is small, cobbled together from dirt and leaves, from twigs and scraps you’ve gathered over the years. You show him your dirt mantle, how you’d packed it tight with earth and how you’d lined with relics of your life. You show him the first flower you ever found, or what’s left of it—a brittle stem, its petals long gone. You tell him the story of the hound who crushed it. 

There’s a feather on the wall, light and fragile, from the first bird you ever caught. You smile as you tell him the story of the chase, how fun it had been to run and run with your foxes until the world blurred around you. Until you were the only one left. In the corner, something glints: A metal buckle, tarnished but unmistakable. From the shoe of the first hunter who’d ever caught you.

You trace your fur with your fingers, telling Spencer your adventures and stories of the traps and the teeth, of the hunters who came with rifles and ropes. The dog sits, listening, understanding. You show him how the edges of your den are marked, too. The walls are carved with notches—five, ten, fifteen. Each one a hunter or hound you’d escaped from. You’re proud, you say, even as you run your hand over the rough lines. They’re proof you survived, that you’ve outwitted them time and time again. Not unwounded, not unbroken, but alive. 

You tell him you’re very proud of yourself.

The dog tilts his head, watching you carefully. He sees the way your voice falters when you recount the stories of cages and leashes, how your tail twitches when you mention the hunters. Spencer thinks the fox is lying.

So, the dog tries to teach the fox his ways.

He clears out your mantle first. He takes down the brittle flower stem, the feather, the tarnished buckle. Then, he takes your paw and shows you how to sniff out the bright pretty toadstools, the ones that make the forest less dark. He shows you the rain puddles, not just for drinking, but for jumping in, for splashing until your laughter scares off the birds.

Together, you fill your den with new relics. Ticket stubs from the village fair, postcards you write but never send, laughter tucked away in secret corners. Kisses, soft and warm, planted like seeds that grow slowly into something that feels like home.

Spencer rubs off the old notches on your walls with the pads of his paws, the dust of their memory falling to the floor. In their place, you make new marks. Not notches, but drawings. A fox curled in the safety of her den. A dog lying beside her, his muzzle resting on his paws.

Night after night, you curl up beneath your mantle, snouts touching, tails tucked beneath you. 

And then winter comes. Now, your walls feel too big for just a lone fox.

You see, the dog always listens to his master. He sits, he fetches, he stays. But always under command, always under the whistle’s call. And when his master calls, he has to go. Tail wagging or tucked low, he goes. 

“You’re hardly ever here anymore,” your voice cuts sharper than you meant it to. 

“Can we please not do this now,” he says almost pleadingly, his jaw tight.

For the first time, in the quiet of your den, the fox feels the cold.

The dog goes. The fox doesn’t follow. She can’t. She doesn’t belong where the dog goes—to places of shiny badges and polished shoes, of clean, carpeted floors and voices that echo off tall, glass walls. So she waits in her den, her fur bristling against the chill, her paws worn from pacing the same patch of dirt.

You try to remind yourself of who you are. A fox, sly, swift, clever. A fox, who doesn’t need to wait for anyone. 

But still, when the forest quiets, you glance toward the trees. You press your ear to the ground, hoping to catch the faintest echo of his steps, the rustle of leaves under his paws. The fox runs her fingers over the edges of the drawings, tracing the uneven lines, patching the spaces in her den where the light and the wind get in with twigs and leaves. She roams the fields, trying to race the clouds again. But she doesn’t think she runs quite as fast without Spencer beside her. She chases her tail like he taught her, spinning in quick circles, but it’s not as fun when she’s alone. She doesn’t try to catch the birds anymore. It doesn’t feel the same.

When Spencer comes back, his coat bruised and worn from his time away, the fox licks his wounds. The scrapes and the scratches, soft and slow, patching his paws with the leaves she’s saved. ​​He carries something in his teeth—a token, a peace offering, a sign that he thought of you while he was away. 

A flower. 

He’d found it near the river, petals still dewy, fragile and bright. He hopes you like it. You do.

You take it from him with careful paws, eyes tracing its delicate form before placing it on your mantle, next to the postcards and ticket stubs, next to the daffodils, peonies, dahlias, irises and all the other flowers he’s found for you over time. You think back to the brittle and dead stem you once kept and wonder if there’s any way to hold onto something that beautiful forever.

Because sometimes even beautiful flowers die.

And when it comes to fight or flight, the fox always runs. They say it’s in her blood, in her very nature to flee. So she bolts. She runs away from the den, away from the mantle and the flowers he’d collected. The fox doesn’t know if she can find flowers quite as beautiful as the ones Spencer has given her.

You don’t need the flowers, you tell yourself. You’ll find a new den, find new birds to catch, rebuild your mantle from scratch, carve new notches in your walls once more. You always do.

But the hound finds you. Bred for hunting. Tracking. Scenting. For knowing where to look and how to catch. Bred for the hunt, he always finds you. Your crouched back, tail down, ready to pounce or bolt if you have to. Every instinct telling you to run, to vanish into the underbrush before he can catch you. 

“Open the door,” a voice calls, low and insistent.

The fox is curled in the corner of this den. It doesn’t hold the warmth of the last.

“I know you’re home.”

She shuts her eyes and digs deeper into the wall.

“Open the door,” he says, voice softening, pleading. "Please."

The fox exhales, and with a shudder that shakes through her, she reaches out and opens the door. She misses her flowers.

It’s not the chase you expect. No barking, no growling. You bare your teeth. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even flinch. 

“What do you want?” she asks, claws sharp.

“I want to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Then I’ll stay here until you do.”

And so the fox and the dog sit. They wait and wait then talk and talk. By the time the first rays of the sun creep above the treetops, the fox is laughing again. It’s a sound that is warm and bright, something that makes Spencer’s heart feel a little fuller, a little lighter. He thinks he understands now. 

They don’t see it, do they? The way the fox rolls in the field when she thinks no one’s looking, laughing under her breath as she goes. The way she finds the sunniest patch to lay in and closes her eyes, tail swishing in contentment. They only see the scars and the snarls. They don’t ever see the joy.

“Why don’t you trust me?” he asks, his voice gentle but steady, the kind of tone that makes it clear he already knows the answer.

“I do,” you say quickly, instinctively.

He doesn’t push. He waits.

“I know you don’t,” he says finally, not accusing, just truthful.

You look away, fidgeting with your tail between your legs. “I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says again, softer this time, his tail brushing lightly against your side.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: you’re here that’s the thing by beabadoobee tsunami by niki

[nevernonline]

✧.* secret love story; hjs

synopsis: the city has a way of weaving lives together, even when it feels like it's tearing them apart. joshua, the son of a powerful and conservative politician, and Y/N, a passionate artist pursuing her dream, find their paths entwined in the most unexpected way. despite their connection, their worlds could not be further apart.

paring: joshua x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever (hehe)  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol) , swearing (? lol ), some nsfw stuff but not in grand details.

word count: 17k

content: . non-idol idolings.

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. 

The streets were alive that evening, thrumming with energy as crowds poured into the city’s arts district. The gallery’s entrance was understated, almost hidden among a row of boutique stores and cafes. Inside, warm light illuminated canvases that stretched across stark white walls. Each piece was a portal into a world of raw emotion—anger, love, despair, and hope.  

Y/N stood near the back of the room, dressed simply but elegantly in a flowy black dress, her hands clasped nervously. Tonight was important; her first big showcase had attracted more guests than she expected, and among them were critics, buyers, and fellow artists. She felt both exhilarated and overwhelmed.  

Joshua had no intention of being there. He wasn’t the art-gallery type. The night had started with a stiff political dinner where his father delivered a speech on preserving “traditional values.” Desperate for an escape, he wandered the streets until the flicker of light and soft murmur of voices and sounds of champagne bottles opening from the gallery caught his attention.  

The moment Joshua stepped inside, he felt like he had entered a new world. The hum of conversation was softer here, the clinking of glasses muted against the depth of the paintings. One in particular stopped him in his tracks—a portrait of two figures barely touching, their faces turned away from one another, as if trying to reach across an invisible barrier.  

“That one’s called Longing,” came a voice behind him.  

Joshua turned to see Y/N standing there, a faint smile on her face. He noticed the paint smudges on her fingers before he registered her striking presence.  

“It’s sort of haunting,” he said, almost in a whisper, his eyes returning to the painting. “There’s so much emotion in it. Like they want something they can’t have.”  

Y/N studied him for a moment, intrigued. Most visitors offered polite compliments, but this stranger seemed to feel the weight of her work.  

“That’s exactly it,” she said, stepping closer. “It’s about the space between people. How it can feel like a canyon, even when you’re standing right next to someone.”  

Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the rest of the gallery seemed to fade.  

“Did you paint this?” Joshua asked.  

Y/N nodded. “I did.”  

“You’ve captured something… I didn’t think anyone else understood.” His voice was laced with an honesty that caught her off guard.  

As Y/N and Joshua wandered deeper into the gallery, their steps fell into an unspoken rhythm. The crowd ebbed and flowed around them, but it was as if they existed in their own pocket of space, where time slowed and words felt heavier.  

They stopped in front of a painting that was dominated by shades of crimson and deep blues, abstract brushstrokes that swirled and collided. The image was chaotic, almost violent, but there was a strange harmony in the madness.  

“This one’s intense,” Joshua murmured, tilting his head as he tried to decipher the emotions bleeding through the canvas.  

“Yeah. It’s called Collision,” Y/N said, folding her arms loosely. “It’s about how love and destruction can feel like the same thing sometimes.”  

Joshua’s eyes flicked to hers. “That’s a lot to admit.”  

Y/N shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Art is honesty, right? Even when it hurts.”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on her longer than it should have. “And did it hurt when you painted it?”  

For a moment, Y/N hesitated. It wasn’t a question most people would ask. She saw something in Joshua’s expression—a quiet understanding, as if he wasn’t just asking about the painting but about her.  

“It did,” she said finally, her voice softer now. “But sometimes you have to let life hurt. Otherwise, you never move past it.”  

Joshua opened his mouth to reply but stopped himself. Instead, he turned back to the painting, his hands sliding into his pockets.  

“I get that,” he said after a moment. “I think most people spend their lives trying to avoid feeling too much. But you seem to embrace it.”  

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words. There was something disarming about the way he saw her, like he wasn’t just a passerby admiring her art but someone who wanted to understand the soul behind it.  

They moved to the next piece, a softer, more intimate painting of two hands reaching for each other across a sea of golden light.  

“This one’s different,” Joshua said, stepping closer. “It feels hopeful.”  

Y/N smiled. “You’re good at this.”  

“At what?”  

“Seeing things that other people miss.”  

Joshua chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m just looking for things I need to see.”  

They lingered in front of the painting, their shoulders almost brushing. The conversation shifted, becoming lighter as they talked about their favorite colors, the books they loved, and the places they dreamed of visiting. Y/N told him about the inspiration behind her pieces—how they were often born from fleeting moments of emotion or memories she couldn’t shake. Joshua, in turn, shared small glimpses of his life, though he carefully avoided details that would reveal who he really was.  

At one point, they reached a painting that was tucked into a quieter corner of the gallery. It was smaller than the others, almost an afterthought, but it drew Joshua’s attention immediately. The image was of a single, delicate flower growing through a crack in a concrete sidewalk.  

“This one’s yours too?” he asked, leaning in to study the fine details.  

Y/N nodded. “Resilience.”  

Joshua smiled faintly. “I like it. There’s something defiant about it. Like it refuses to let the world crush it.”  

Y/N glanced at him, surprised by the depth of his observation. “That’s exactly what I was going for.”  

Their eyes met, and for a moment, the noise of the gallery melted away. The connection between them was palpable, a quiet understanding that neither of them could explain.  

“You’ve got a gift,” Joshua said, his voice low.  

Y/N felt a warmth spread through her chest, but she quickly deflected, unsure how to handle the intensity of his gaze. “Well, if this whole politics thing doesn’t work out for you, you’ve got a future as an art critic.”  

Joshua laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Noted.”  

As the night wore on, the crowd began to thin, but Joshua stayed by her side, moving from one painting to the next. Y/N found herself laughing more easily than she had in weeks, her initial nerves replaced by a sense of comfort she hadn’t expected.  

By the time they reached the last piece, a large abstract mural filled with vibrant yellows and oranges, Y/N realized she didn’t want the night to end. But as she turned to Joshua, she noticed the way his smile faltered, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face.  

“Everything okay?” she asked softly.  

Joshua nodded, but his eyes betrayed a storm of thoughts. “Yeah,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Sometimes you meet someone, and it feels like everything makes sense for a little while.”  

Y/N’s breath hitched. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing, letting the moment stretch between them.  

When they finally returned to the front of the gallery, Joshua paused at the door.  

“Thank you for tonight,” he said, his expression earnest. “Your work is incredible. And so are you.”  

That night, as Y/N cleaned up the gallery, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something significant had just begun—something both exhilarating and dangerous. Meanwhile, Joshua walked aimlessly through the city streets, replaying their conversation in his mind, already yearning for the next time he might see her.  

The days that followed their first meeting felt like a blur to Y/N. Her days were filled with painting, organizing new art shows, and dealing with the steady flow of clients who wanted to buy her work. But at night, when the city quieted and she was alone with her thoughts, all she could think about was her encounter with Joshua.  

It wasn’t just his compliments or the way he seemed to understand her art so deeply. It was the unspoken connection between them—the way their conversations flowed, how easy it was to talk to him, even when they barely knew each other. She found herself replaying their last conversation in her head, especially the way he’d spoken about “making sense” in the brief moments they shared.  

On the third evening after their gallery encounter, Y/N found herself standing in front of the window of her studio, staring out at the glittering skyline. It was late, past midnight, and the city hummed softly beneath the pale moonlight. She had just finished a new piece, but her mind kept returning to that last look Joshua had given her—the subtle sadness in his eyes, as if he had more to say but couldn’t.  

Then, as if summoned by her thoughts, her phone buzzed.  

It was a message from an unknown number.  

“I can’t stop thinking about your work. About you. Would you like to meet again? I know a quiet spot where we can talk more.” 

It took Y/N a moment to process it. The message was simple but deliberate. She didn’t even have to check the number; she already knew who it was. Joshua.  

Her heart skipped a beat, but she quickly typed a response:  

“I’d like that. But how’d you get my number”  

Just as quickly as she could put her phone down two quick messages pinged back. 

“I have my ways. Haha.” 

“Just kidding, I took one of your business cards.” 

Later that night, Y/N made her way through the city streets, the cool air brushing against her skin. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but something about the idea of seeing him again felt right. It was like they were both caught in the same pull, a magnetic force neither could fully resist.  

The place Joshua had mentioned was a small, dimly lit café tucked away on a side street—a hidden gem most people passed by without noticing. The sign outside read La Lune, a name that seemed to shimmer against the dark backdrop of the city.  

When Y/N stepped inside, the soft scent of freshly brewed coffee, homemade spirits and pastries enveloped her. The café had a cozy, intimate feel, with small round tables lit by flickering candles. There was only one other couple in the corner, deep in conversation, leaving the rest of the space open and quiet.  

Joshua was sitting near the window, a cup of coffee in front of him. He looked different from the last time she’d seen him—more relaxed, his usual guarded expression replaced by something warmer, more open. He looked up when she entered, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other.  

“Hi,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips.  

Y/N’s heart raced in her chest, but she returned his smile, walking over to join him. “Hi,” she said, sitting down.  

“You look different tonight,” he commented, his gaze flickering over her. There was something in his eyes that made her feel like he was seeing not just her face but the person she was, the one she usually kept hidden behind layers of quiet confidence and artistic passion.  

“I could say the same about you,” Y/N replied, her voice low, almost shy. “There’s a kind of peace about you. Like you’re finally able to breathe. Maybe it’s also the jeans and the hoodie, a bit of both.”  

Joshua chuckled, the sound rich and genuine. “Maybe I am.” He paused, looking down at his coffee, as if unsure of how to continue. “Y/n..”  

She looked at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, his voice catching a little. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to steady his nerves. This wasn’t easy, not by any means. “I don’t want to hide from you. I don’t want you to feel like this is just some secret thing.”

She tilted her head, her gaze curious but understanding. “Joshua, you’re not making sense.”

“I know,” he said, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. He took a deep breath. “It’s just, the thing is, my family, my life—everything is so controlled, so planned. It’s like I’m not even my own person sometimes.”

Y/N stepped closer, her eyes softening. She knew that feeling all too well, the sense of being trapped by expectations.

Joshua’s hand clenched into a fist before he let it go, trying to calm himself. “My father. He’s a politician. A big one. He’s running for a major office, and everything about my life is about appearances. About what fits the image he wants to project. The last thing he would ever approve of is… well, us.” He paused, unsure how to say it without it sounding like an excuse. “My father’s life is a brand. And I’m just a part of that brand.”

Y/N’s heart ached as she listened. She could see the struggle in his eyes, the way he wrestled with the burden of his family’s expectations. It was as though every word he said about his father was another weight on his shoulders.

“But you’re not your father,” Y/N said softly, almost to herself. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch warm and steady. “You’re your own person, Joshua.”

He looked at her, his expression a mixture of frustration and uncertainty. “I know. But it’s hard to escape that. My dad… he doesn’t just want me to follow his path. He needs me to. Everything I do is calculated. Every relationship, every choice, every word. He has plans for me, for what he wants me to be.” He let out a shaky breath, his voice quieter now. “And that includes who I’m with.”

Y/N felt the depth of his confession like a weight on her own chest. She understood better now why he had been so reserved, why there had been that flicker of hesitation in his eyes when they first met. He wasn’t just trying to keep a secret about himself; he was trying to protect them both from a world that would never let them just be.

Joshua swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto hers. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want you to think I’m playing some kind of game with you. That this… what we have…” He trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. “I know it’s complicated. But I can’t lie to you anymore.”

Y/N, for the first time since their first meeting, saw Joshua for who he truly was—someone who was desperately trying to hold on to a sliver of freedom in a world that demanded conformity. And yet, despite all of that, he had chosen to be with her.

She reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “I’m not asking you to choose, Joshua. I’m not asking you to tear apart your life or go against your father. But I want to know the truth. If this is something we’re going to do, then I want us to be honest. No more secrets. No more hiding.”

Joshua’s breath caught in his throat. He had never imagined someone could understand him like this—someone who saw the conflict within him and didn’t push him away.

“I want that too,” he whispered, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I just don’t know what it’ll mean for us. What it’ll cost.”

Y/N leaned in slightly, meeting his gaze. “But, what happens if we’re caught? What happens if the world finds out about us?”  

Joshua’s eyes darkened, but there was no hesitation in his voice when he answered. “I don’t know. But I do know that right now, at this moment, none of that matters. We’re here. Together.”  

And in that moment, as their gazes locked, the world outside seemed to fall away. The noise of the city, the looming pressures of their separate lives, all disappeared. There was only the soft light of the café, the shared silence between them, and the undeniable pull of something that was just beginning to blossom.  

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart racing. “Alright,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Let’s see where this goes.”  

Joshua’s smile was the answer, and in that smile, she saw the promise of something neither of them could yet fully comprehend—but something they both wanted to explore.  

They spent hours there, talking about everything and nothing. It wasn’t just the art anymore; it was their thoughts, their fears, their dreams. They didn’t have all the answers, but they were learning to trust each other, bit by bit.  

And when the café began to empty, they stood together, reluctantly, as if the moment would stretch on forever.   

As they parted outside the café, the night air was cool, but the warmth of their conversation lingered, a promise of what might come. Before parting Joshua bent down kissing her softly on her cheek before escaping around the corner to meet his driver leaving her again in silence. Bud somewhere deep inside, they both knew they had crossed an invisible line. There was no going back now.

Their third encounter wasn’t planned at all. It was late, nearing midnight, when Y/N was walking down the familiar streets near her studio. Her thoughts were still clouded with the conversation they'd shared, her heart torn between the feelings she was developing for Joshua and the practical realities of their situation. How much longer could they keep pretending that the world around them wasn’t watching?

As she passed by the park, her phone buzzed in her pocket. The message was from an unknown number again.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about our last conversation. Can we meet tonight? I know it’s late, but I really need to talk to you. Just for a while.”

It was Joshua, and though the request was simple, there was an urgency to his words that tugged at her heart.

Without a second thought, she typed back: “I’m on my way. Where should I meet you?”

A moment later, he replied: “The rooftop of the building on 7th and Broadway. I’ll be waiting.”

Y/N arrived at the address in less than ten minutes. She took the elevator to the top floor, stepping out into the cool, crisp night air. The building was tall, overlooking the city skyline with the faint hum of traffic far below. Joshua was standing near the edge, his silhouette outlined by the lights of the city, but his focus was on the stars above.

"Joshua?" she called out softly.

He turned, his face lighting up as he saw her approach. He looked different tonight—more vulnerable, his eyes were slightly red, as if he’d been awake for hours, lost in thought.

"Hey," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for coming." He stepped aside, allowing her to join him by the ledge. The cool breeze tousled his hair as he looked out over the city, his jaw tight.

Y/N could sense something was weighing heavily on him. "What’s going on, Josh?" Her voice was calm, but her heart beat a little faster, sensing the tension in the air.

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I don’t know how to say this without sounding like I’m complicating things more than they need to be, but I can’t keep pretending. I’ve spent my entire life following orders, fitting into a role that was decided for me before I could even understand what it meant to be free. And all of that changed when I met you." His voice dropped to a whisper as he turned to face her. "I didn’t expect to care this much. I didn’t expect you to mean this much to me."

Y/N’s heart twisted as she listened to him, her chest aching with the weight of his words.

"Joshua," she began, her voice soft but steady, "I told you yesterday, I’m not asking you to choose between me and your family. I know it’s complicated. But I need you to be honest with me. Completely honest." She took a small step toward him, closing the distance. "What’s really going on?"

He looked at her, eyes searching hers for a moment, before his gaze fell. "My father… he’s pushing me to follow in his footsteps. To run for office. To become what he always wanted me to be—a political heir, someone who will represent his legacy. I’ve done everything for him, for years, without questioning it." He ran a shaky hand through his hair again, his frustration palpable. "And now that I’ve met you I can’t keep lying to myself. I don’t know how to balance the two, Y/N. My father’s expectations and what I feel when I’m with you. The life he’s created for me, and the life I want to build for myself."

Y/N felt the weight of his words, understanding the gravity of the decision that was looming over him. "So what does that mean for us?" Her voice cracked ever so slightly. She hated that question, but she had to ask it—because if this was something real, they couldn’t just ignore the obstacles.

Joshua looked at her, his expression one of both sorrow and determination. "It means that I’m torn, Y/N. It means that I can’t walk away from my family, no matter how much I want to. But it also means that I can’t keep pretending that I don’t want this, that I don’t want you."

For a long moment, the world felt like it stood still. The city lights shimmered below them, but the weight of their conversation filled the air between them. Y/N didn’t know what to say at first. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that it was going to be okay, but she didn’t know if it would be.

"You don’t have to choose right now," Y/N said finally, her voice steady but tender. "I won’t push you. But I need to know if you’re going to let me in. If you’re going to let this go somewhere."

Joshua reached out, taking her hand in his, his thumb gently brushing over her knuckles. "I am. I want to. But I’m scared. If I choose this, I could lose everything. And I’m not sure I’m ready to lose it all."

Y/N squeezed his hand in return, looking up at the stars. "Then we’ll take it one step at a time. We’ll figure it out. But I need you to be honest with me. No more secrets."

Joshua’s eyes softened, a mixture of relief and apprehension in them. "I promise. No more secrets."

The night on the rooftop was heavy with unspoken emotions. The city beneath them seemed to hold its breath, the lights from the streets below flickering like distant stars. Y/N and Joshua sat closely together, wrapped in the shared weight of their conversation. The air between them was thick, but despite the tension, there was an undeniable connection—something that was only growing stronger with each passing moment.

Joshua’s hand remained in hers, a silent gesture of reassurance. He had opened up about the impossible choice between his father’s expectations and what he wanted for himself. But as they sat there, surrounded by the vastness of the night sky, he could feel the pull of both worlds, tugging at him in different directions.

Y/N, sensing the internal battle raging within him, looked at him with a soft, steady gaze. Her heart ached for him, but she knew this wasn’t just about her and him—it was about the life he had been forced to live for so long, the cage built by his family’s demands. It was a cage she couldn’t just break down for him. He had to find his way out.

"Josh," she began, her voice quiet but unwavering, "I don’t expect everything to be easy. I know there are things in your life you’re still figuring out. And I won’t pretend that it’s not complicated. But…" She paused, squeezing his hand gently, "I’m okay with us being a secret for now. I’m okay with whatever pace you need to go at."

He looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. "Y/N, you don’t—"

"No," she interrupted softly, her voice firm but kind. "I know you didn’t ask for this. You didn’t ask for me to be a part of all this crazy ass mess." She hesitated, searching for the right words. "But I’m okay with it. I understand the pressure you’re under, the weight of your family and everything they expect from you. I know you can’t just throw all of that away, not yet. And if that means we need to keep this between us, just for a while, I’m okay with that."

Joshua stood there, struck by the calmness in her voice. The way she spoke, with such grace and understanding, made him feel both guilty and relieved at the same time. He had been so focused on what he might lose that he hadn’t considered what he could still gain. Y/N wasn’t pushing him. She wasn’t demanding him to choose between her and his family. She was simply giving him space to figure it out.

“I don’t want to drag you into something messy,” he said, his voice low. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone who can be fully present with you. Not someone who has to hide, who can’t give you all of them.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes meeting him with such sincerity that it took his breath away. “I’m not asking for all of you right now. I’m asking for what you can give. And if that means a little distance, a little secrecy, I can handle that. I don’t need you to be perfect.. I just need you to be real. That’s all I want. And if it’s just us for now, at this moment, I’m okay with that.”

Her words were like a balm to his restless soul, soothing the anxiety that had been gnawing at him since they’d met. The weight of his father’s expectations, the pressure of his family’s desires, it had all been consuming. But here, with Y/N—this unexpected, complex, beautiful woman—he felt the possibility of something different. Something real.

Joshua’s throat tightened as he fought back the overwhelming rush of emotion. “I don’t deserve that,” he murmured, almost to himself.

“Don’t say that,” Y/N replied, her voice gentle yet firm. “You don’t have to be perfect to deserve someone or something, Joshua. We all have our struggles, our burdens. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve the good things that come into our lives. I don’t expect you to have it all figured out. I just expect us to keep being honest with each other.”

The simplicity of her words struck him deep in his chest. He had been so afraid of losing everything—his family, his reputation, his future—that he hadn’t realized what was in front of him: someone who cared for him enough to give him time. Someone who wasn’t trying to force him into a corner but was willing to walk beside him, patiently, as he navigated the mess of his own life.

"You're willing to wait?" Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. But only if you’re being true to yourself. If you’re honest with me, with us. That’s the only condition. I can’t be a part of something where there’s no truth.”

Joshua took a deep breath, finally feeling the relief of not carrying this weight alone. He had spent so long living in the shadow of his family’s expectations, not daring to reach for anything of his own. But with Y/N, he could feel the space to breathe. To be himself. Even if it had to be in secret for now.

"Then I promise you, no more secrets," he said, his voice steady and determined. "I can’t promise when or how, but I’ll figure this out. I’ll do it for me… and for you."

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “That’s all I need from you. And whatever happens, we’ll handle it together.”

For the first time since they had met, Joshua felt a spark of hope in his chest. The future was uncertain, yes, but with Y/N beside him—even if only in the quiet moments they shared in secret—he felt like he could face whatever came next.

The night stretched on, the soft wind blowing through their hair as they stood side by side on the rooftop, their hearts racing in tandem with the unspoken bond they were forming. There was no easy answer, no perfect solution to their complicated lives, but in that moment, under the stars, they both knew they were no longer alone.

The days following their rooftop conversation were a mixture of clarity and confusion. Joshua had promised to be true to himself and to her, and Y/N had given him the space to navigate his complicated life. The truth of their situation was clear—there were forces at play beyond their control, pulling them in different directions. But their bond was undeniable.

The world around them continued to churn, but in the small moments they shared, they found a sanctuary from the noise. Every secret phone call and text, every late night conversation, every touch held more meaning than any overt declaration. But as the days passed, Y/N began to feel the weight of their secret growing heavier, even if she hadn’t voiced it to him.

It was a Tuesday evening when Joshua reached out again. He hadn’t been as present the past few days, consumed by meetings with his father and the increasing pressure from his family. Y/N knew better than to demand answers right away. She had learned to let him come to her in his own time. But tonight, she felt a familiar pull—an invitation to meet, one that didn’t need to be spoken.

They agreed to meet at a quiet spot on the edge of town. The kind of place where no one would recognize them, and for a few stolen hours, they could pretend like the world wasn’t watching.

When Y/N walked in, she spotted him immediately. He was sitting at the back, his posture tense as usual, though his gaze softened when he saw her approach. As she slid into the seat opposite him, he reached out and took her hand, placing a kiss on her palm, his touch warm but reluctant, he feared she might disappear if he let go.

“I’m glad you came,” Joshua said quietly, a faint smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "I needed to see you. Badly"

Y/N smiled back, though there was something in her chest that felt tight. "Of course. How’s everything going with your father?" she asked, trying to gauge where he was emotionally, where they stood.

Joshua’s smile faltered, and for the first time in days, he looked like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “It's really not great. The pressure’s getting worse. He’s set his sights on me running for office next year. I can't escape it, Y/N. Every conversation, every meeting, it all comes back to what he fucking wants for me, not what I want for myself."

Y/N’s heart sank. She knew how much he wanted to carve out his own path, to escape the shadow of his family’s empire. She had heard the desperation in his voice on the rooftop—he was battling not just his father’s expectations, but his own sense of who he was and what he was becoming.

"I can’t make that decision for you," she said, her voice steady. "But I do know this—you don’t have to figure it all out alone. I’m here, Joshua. I told you before that  want you to be honest with me, but I also want to help you, however I can."

Joshua squeezed her hand, his eyes holding hers with a mixture of gratitude and uncertainty. "I don’t know what you see in me, Y/N," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. You deserve someone who’s free to give you everything. But I can’t walk away from you. I can’t let you go."

The raw honesty in his words made Y/N’s chest tighten. She had never expected an easy journey, not with the weight of his world pressing on them both, but hearing his confession—his fears, his doubts—made her feel both helpless and resolved. She was willing to wait, to let him find his way, but it was hard, harder than she had anticipated. She wanted him to choose her, but she knew it wasn’t that simple.

"I’m not asking for all of you right now," she said softly. "I can handle that. But I can’t be invisible forever, Joshua. I need to know that when this all comes to a head, you’re choosing us."

Joshua’s eyes darkened as he heard the unspoken fear in her voice. “I don’t want to lose you. But I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I feel like I’m suffocating in this life, in this expectation. And every time I try to make a choice for myself, for us, it feels like there’s something I’ll lose.” His hand, still holding hers, trembled slightly.

Y/N took a deep breath, her voice firm. "I don’t expect you to give up everything. But I need to know that you’re willing to take the risk, Joshua. That when the time comes, you won’t let fear hold you back from what could be right in front of you."

He was silent for a long moment, lost in thought, before he spoke again, his voice tight with emotion. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to please people, trying to be what everyone else wants me to be. But when I’m with you, I feel like I’m someone else. Someone I could be proud of. But then reality hits, and I realize how impossible it all seems."

Y/N’s heart ached. She could see the internal struggle in his eyes, the pull between his desire for freedom and the loyalty to a life that had been carved out for him long before he even understood the weight of it.

“I’m not asking you to be perfect, Joshua,” she said gently.

Joshua’s eyes searched hers, as though trying to gauge the sincerity of her words. "Are you sure you can handle this? I’m not asking you to wait forever. I’m just asking for time."

Y/N smiled softly, her thumb brushing over his hand, the small, tender gesture a stark contrast to the heaviness of the conversation. She could feel his fingers trembling, the silent weight of his uncertainty pressing down on them both. It was one of those moments where words felt both inadequate and necessary, where honesty, however painful, was the only thing that could bridge the distance between them.

"I’m not asking for forever, either," she said quietly, her voice steady despite the tumult of emotions swirling inside her.

She looked up at him then, meeting his gaze with an openness that seemed to both reassure and break her at the same time. “I’m not asking you to make any big decisions right now. All I want is for you to be true to yourself. And when the time comes—when you figure out what you really want—I’ll be ready for whatever decision you make. I just need you to be honest with me.” 

Joshua’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of her words settling into his chest. He wanted to speak, to reassure her that he didn’t want to hurt her, but she pressed on, her tone still gentle, but her words cutting through the air with an edge of pain he hadn’t expected.

“But if it’s not me, let me down gently.” She paused, her lips pressing together as if the thought itself hurt too much to fully voice. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before she continued, her hand still held tightly in his. “I don’t want any drama. I don’t want to fight or beg. Avoid me, ignore me, don’t contact me. Cut it off—no words needed. I can handle the silence. I just need to know that when you’re ready, when you’ve made up your mind, that you’ll walk away without dragging it out. No false hope. No lingering, no ‘maybe. Just... a clean break.”

The words seemed to hang in the air between them, the enormity of what she was saying sinking in. She wasn’t asking for him to promise her forever—just honesty. And in that moment, she realized how much she had come to depend on him, how much she had opened her heart to him, even if he hadn’t yet decided what to do with it. 

Joshua felt his chest tighten as he listened, his heart twisting painfully. He had never heard her speak like this before—not with so much quiet strength, but also so much vulnerability. Her willingness to step back, to give him the space he needed to make his choices, was both a gift and a heart-wrenching challenge. She was preparing herself for the worst—*just in case*—and it cut him deeper than he expected. She wasn’t demanding anything of him. She wasn’t forcing him into a decision. She was just asking for his truth. And even though it broke her, she was willing to accept the reality of it. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N,” Joshua finally said, his voice cracking with the weight of the promise he wasn’t sure he could make. “I’ve never wanted to be the kind of man who causes pain especially after how my father treated me, but I don’t know how to give you the certainty you’re asking for. Not yet. Not until I’ve figured out what this all means.”

She squeezed his hand, a soft, understanding smile playing at her lips, though her heart ached at the uncertainty in his voice. “I know that. I know you're not trying to hurt me. And I’m not asking you to make it easy. I’m asking you to be honest. When you know, when you’re sure, I just need you to do it with respect, Joshua. To respect me enough to not leave me wondering, to not drag things out for both of us. That’s all I ask.”

There was a long pause, a silence that was heavy with the weight of their unspoken emotions. Joshua could feel the sincerity of her words, the depth of her understanding, but it only added to the guilt gnawing at him. He hadn’t made his decision yet—he wasn’t ready to. And the thought of cutting her out of his life, of hurting her, was something he couldn’t bear to think about.

“I’m scared, Y/N,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing you. But I’m also scared that if I take this too fast, I’ll hurt you in a way I can’t undo. I don’t know what’s right, but I do know that I don’t want to lose you.”

Y/N’s smile softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes that mirrored his. She understood the weight of his fear—the fear of making the wrong choice, the fear of hurting her. But she also knew that sometimes, not making a choice was the worst thing of all. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “But you need to know that whatever decision you make, I’ll be okay. It will hurt, but I’ll be okay. And I’ll respect whatever choice you make. The way you make your decision, what I just said, let me down easy. That’s all I need from you.”

For a moment, the silence between them felt like an unspoken agreement. Y/N had laid her heart on the line—no strings attached, no demands beyond honesty. And Joshua, despite his own fear, felt a deep sense of gratitude for the space she was giving him, for the patience, even when it hurt.

As they sat there, their hands still entwined on the table between them, there was no grand declaration. There were no promises. But there was understanding. 

Y/N was giving him the time he needed, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to stay in the dark forever. She had been clear: when the time came, she would let go. And as painful as it was, Joshua knew that she deserved that honesty. 

“I won’t drag it out,” Joshua said quietly, the words heavy with meaning. “I promise. When I know, I’ll tell you. You deserve nothing less.”

Y/N nodded, her heart both lightened and heavy at once. “That’s all I can ask for.”

Joshua smiled, not wanting their secret rendezvous to end, “Can we go somewhere private? Just us tonight? No more parents and stress?” 

Y/N’s smile deepened at the thought of giving them both an escape, a place to simply be. As much as they both craved answers, tonight wasn’t about decisions or heavy conversations—it was about being in the moment. Her heart ached for Joshua, for the burden he carried, but she also knew that moments like this—moments where they could simply exist together without outside pressures—were rare. She wasn’t sure how much longer they would have before life caught up to them again. But tonight, they were going to make it count.

“I have just the place,” Y/N replied, her voice soft yet certain, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. 

Joshua’s heart lifted at her words. The thought of being with her, completely alone, away from the prying eyes and expectations, filled him with relief. 

Y/N stood up, reaching for her coat, the motion almost fluid. "It’s a little out of the way, but that’s the point," she explained, a teasing glint in her voice. "No distractions. Just us."

As they walked toward her car, the city seemed quieter than usual. The night was crisp, but there was an undeniable warmth in the way they moved together, side by side, as if the world beyond them could wait for just a few hours.

Joshua was still processing her words from earlier. The way she had calmly laid out her heart, vulnerable yet resolute, asking for nothing but honesty. He couldn’t help but admire her strength and grace, and yet it made him ache with the knowledge that, despite everything, he was still caught between two worlds.

But for tonight, that didn’t matter. Tonight was about creating a moment that was theirs, free from the weight of it all.

The drive took them through winding roads, the city’s lights fading as they ventured further out. Y/N didn’t say much along the way—she didn’t need to. She could tell Joshua was deep in thought his hand rested on her thigh as she pressed the gas pedal, and she was content to let him reflect. 

Eventually, they arrived at a secluded cottage nestled at the edge of a wooded area. The house was small, but cozy, a soft glow spilling from the windows, suggesting warmth inside. The scent of wood and fresh air greeted them as Y/N led him to the door, pulling out a key from her pocket.

Joshua looked around, taking in the quiet surroundings. The cottage stood alone in the middle of a forested area, the trees surrounding them like old, protective sentinels. It was the perfect place to get away from everything.

“Is this your place?” Joshua asked, his voice a mixture of surprise and curiosity. 

Y/N nodded, opening the door. "It’s my little sanctuary. I come here to clear my head, to escape when things get too overwhelming. Get inspired, all the good shit.  I thought it might be nice for us to have somewhere to just be. No judgment."

As they stepped inside, the warmth wrapped around them. There was something calming about the space—dim lighting, a fire crackling softly in the hearth, and simple, comfortable furniture. The living room smelled of lavender and wood smoke, the air clean and fresh. A large window in the corner framed a peaceful view of the forest, its dark trees swaying gently in the breeze. 

Y/N made her way to the kitchen area and quickly began preparing a small spread—cheese, crackers, some fruit, and a bottle of wine she’d bought earlier. “I thought we could just relax. Have something to eat, talk if we feel like it, or not. No pressure.”

Joshua couldn’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness behind her gesture. There was something about the simplicity of the moment—no fancy dinner or grand gestures—just the two of them, in this quiet, serene space. He felt his shoulders relax for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He moved to her side as she set the table, gently brushing her hair from her face, his touch soft and affectionate. "This is perfect, Y/N," he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude. "Thank you for this."

She smiled at him, her eyes meeting him with a look of understanding and tenderness. "Anything for you. I also have some pajamas and extra stuff just in case, you know, you want to stay.”

As they settled into the small, cozy space with their food and drink, they spoke less, letting the comfort of being together speak for itself. The fire crackled in the background, and the only sounds were the occasional clink of a wine glass or the rustling of leaves outside. It was a soft kind of peace—a feeling neither of them had realized they were missing so deeply.

As the evening wore on, they moved to the couch by the fire. Y/N leaned her head against Joshua’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body beside hers, another opened bottle of wine resting on the coffee table. She could feel the tension slowly leave him, the constant hum of responsibility fading into the background. 

Joshua draped an arm around her, pulling her closer, his voice low as he spoke. "You know, for a moment, I almost feel like everything’s going to be okay."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “What do you mean?”

“Like, I’m not sure where all of this is heading, but I don’t feel as lost as I did before. Being here with you in this house which by the way I cannot believe you were holding out on me. It’s like I can breathe again.”

Her heart swelled, knowing how much those words meant to him. "You deserve to breathe, Josh. To find your way.. For tonight, for this moment, I’m happy just being here. Find some sanctuary in my sanctuary you know. The reason I didn’t show you yet is just because I wasn’t sure you’d want to come. I don’t know."

Joshua looked down at her, his eyes soft and full of unspoken gratitude. "Of course I’d want to come, I love being in nature, I don’t get much of it anymore. I don’t know how to thank you for this. For everything."

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing his hand. "You don’t need to thank me. You’re here, with me. That’s more than enough."

And in that simple, perfect moment, they found something that transcended all the confusion, all the questions that loomed over them. It wasn’t answers they needed tonight—it was each other. They didn’t need to speak about the future or dwell on what came next. Tonight, there was just them—existing, breathing, and finding comfort in the shared silence.

The room was bathed in a warm, golden glow as the fire crackled quietly in the corner. Outside, the wind rustled the trees, but inside the cottage, it felt like time had slowed. Y/N and Joshua sat on the couch, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm draped around her waist, pulling her closer. There was no rush, no need to speak. The mere presence of each other felt like enough. 

Y/N’s breath evened out as she relaxed further into his side, her fingers absently tracing the fabric of his shirt. The simplicity of the moment, their quiet togetherness, felt like a reprieve from the complexities of their lives. She was learning the art of just being with him—no expectations, no demands. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her cheek, steady and warm, and it calmed her in a way nothing else could.

Joshua, for his part, had his eyes closed, his lips slightly parted as he allowed the quiet to fill the spaces where his mind had been racing just hours before. There was something about the softness of Y/N’s presence, the fact that she didn’t need anything from him but his company, that allowed him to drop the walls he often kept up. Her proximity, her stillness beside him, felt like an anchor—a place where he could feel like his old self. And for once, he didn’t feel the constant weight of his obligations pulling him in a thousand directions.

The firelight flickered across the room, casting shadows that danced on the walls, and there was an undeniable chemistry between them—a quiet, simmering tension that had been building ever since their first meeting. It wasn’t forceful. It was gentle, like the slow, inevitable pull of gravity. Neither of them spoke about it, but it was there, in the way their hands brushed together, in the way their breath seemed to sync as they sat together, their bodies unconsciously leaning closer, drawn by an invisible thread.

Joshua shifted slightly, turning his head to glance at her. His lips curved in a small, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes were darker than usual, full of something unspoken—something that pulsed between them like a quiet storm. Y/N caught his gaze, and for a moment, everything else seemed to disappear. 

Her fingers, still resting on his chest, curled into his shirt, her touch light but deliberate. She could feel the subtle tension in him, the way his breath caught slightly when her hand brushed over the soft skin at his collarbone. There was a pull, a magnetic force drawing them closer, but neither of them wanted to rush it. The silence between them grew thicker, more intimate, but it was safe.

Y/N felt the heat rising between them, but she stayed where she was, her head nestled against him, eyes closed, letting the moment stretch out. She didn’t want to overthink it. This wasn’t about the perfect timing or making a move—it was just about being in the moment with him, together, without needing anything else. 

But then, after what felt like an eternity of quiet, Joshua’s hand moved, just a subtle shift, and before Y/N could even register it fully, his fingers gently brushed against her jaw, coaxing her to look up at him. The tenderness of his touch sent a shiver through her, and she lifted her eyes to meet him, finding the depth of something she hadn’t quite understood before—something that both scared and comforted her all at once.

His thumb lightly traced the line of her lower lip, his gaze flickering between her eyes and her mouth, as though he was trying to read her, trying to gauge whether the moment was right. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. There was no question now—they had crossed some unspoken boundary. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a heartbeat, the world outside was irrelevant. It was just the two of them, here, in this space.

“Y/N,” he murmured her name like a prayer, his voice low and raspy, filled with a need that neither of them could deny. The sound of her name on his lips felt like a promise, but it also held the weight of everything unspoken between them.

She lifted her hand to rest against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palm. Her gaze softened as she studied his face, seeing the conflict there, the vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored her own. ‘Is this what we want?’ The question hung in the air, but neither of them dared to voice it. Instead, Y/N leaned in slightly, just enough to close the space between them, her breath mingling with his. 

Joshua’s eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he felt the shift between them, the pull that neither of them could ignore. He exhaled slowly, and when he opened his eyes again, he found Y/N’s lips inches from his. 

At that moment, everything else seemed to blur. There was no more thinking, no more hesitation. It wasn’t about the future, or the decisions they hadn’t yet made—it was about now. It was about feeling this connection, this undeniable chemistry, this quiet, intimate understanding between them.

He closed the distance between them then, his lips meeting hers in a soft, slow kiss—one that spoke of everything they hadn’t said, all the emotions they had buried deep inside. It was a kiss that was both tender and intense, full of quiet longing and unspoken promises. It was a kiss that asked for nothing more than the moment, the comfort, the closeness of shared space.

Y/N’s hand slid up to his neck, pulling him in closer, her body instinctively leaning into his as the kiss deepened. The heat between them grew, but it was still gentle—unhurried. It was a kiss that let them feel each other, without rushing toward anything. At that moment, they didn’t need words. They didn’t need answers.

Joshua’s hand slid from her face to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as he deepened the kiss, his fingers tracing the curve of her neck. Y/N responded in kind, her body now in his lap, hand resting against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breath as the kiss grew more urgent, more desperate. Yet, there was still a softness to it, a care, a respect for the vulnerability they were both sharing.

As they finally pulled away, breathless, their foreheads touched lightly, their breaths coming in soft gasps. The silence between them was no longer empty—it was full, rich with connection, understanding, and something deeper that neither of them had been ready to name.

“Are you okay?” Joshua asked, his voice low, his forehead still resting against hers. His hands rested gently on her waist, as if waiting for her to pull away or to say something that would break the tension.

Y/N smiled softly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m more than okay,” she whispered. 

Joshua’s chest tightened at her words, the weight of the unspoken between them finally easing. They didn’t need to know what came next. They didn’t need to define it. All that mattered was that, in this quiet moment, they had found something real—something beautiful and fragile, but something worth holding on to, even if only for tonight.

“I don’t want to rush it,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something deeper, something tender. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her soft skin. “But I’m not going to lie, I don’t have enough strength right now to pull away from you.”

His words, so simple yet heavy with meaning, made her heart flutter. She nodded slowly, her fingers moving to trace the line of his jaw, her touch delicate, as if he were something fragile she didn’t want to break. “Then don’t,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. 

The unspoken invitation hung in the air between them, thick with anticipation. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just looked at each other, as if silently questioning whether this moment was real, whether they could allow themselves to embrace it fully.

Joshua closed the distance between them then, his lips finding hers again, this time with more urgency, more purpose. The kiss was different now—not just tender, but hungry, as though the silence between them had been filled with all the words neither of them had said. There was an ache in it, a quiet, aching need to be closer, to erase the distance that had existed between them for far too long.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as the kiss deepened. She responded with equal intensity, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin through the fabric of his shirt. His hands, which had been resting on her waist, now slid to her back, pulling her even closer. The space between them evaporated as he cradled her against him, their bodies pressed together in a way that felt both intimate and comforting.

Her pulse quickened as she felt the weight of him against her, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. The kiss grew more frantic, both of them caught in the whirlwind of emotions they had carefully held at bay. There were no more words, just the sensation of their lips moving together, the heat building between them.

Joshua’s hand slid down to her waist, then to the small of her back, gently urging her closer as he deepened the kiss even further. He could feel the softness of her skin beneath his touch, the way her body seemed to melt against his. Every inch of him wanted to be closer, to lose himself in the feeling of her. And yet, there was a part of him still holding back, still unsure, still afraid of what would happen once this moment ended.

But at that moment, Y/N seemed to read his hesitation. She pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes, her lips still tingling from the kiss. Her gaze was steady, but there was a question in her eyes—a silent invitation to continue, to let go of the fears they both carried.

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice breathless but sure. “You don’t have to hold back. Not tonight.”

Joshua’s breath caught at her words, the weight of them sinking in. He could see the vulnerability in her eyes—the trust she was offering him, the understanding that whatever came next, they would navigate it together. There was no pressure. No expectations. Just the two of them, finding comfort in each other.

With a quiet exhale, Joshua nodded, his hand gently cupping her cheek as he leaned in once more, this time more slowly, more deliberately. He kissed her with a gentleness that was new, but that spoke volumes. He wasn’t rushing anymore. He was simply present, lost in the moment, in her.

Her hands slid to the collar of his shirt, fingers trembling slightly as she tugged it from where it had come untucked, urging him to shed the layers between them. Joshua let her, his own hands moving to gently lift her shirt just enough to feel the soft curve of her back, the warmth of her skin. Neither of them said anything as the kiss broke, but their eyes met again—soft, full of desire, yet still respectful, still understanding.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly helped her out of her shirt, his hands moving with deliberate care, making sure every move was in sync with hers. Next unclasping the simple black bra she had placed under. They both needed this—needed to shed the layers that had kept them apart, to let their vulnerability, their need for one another, unfold in the safety of the quiet room.

Joshua pulled her closer again, feeling her body against his. There was no rush now, no need for words. The room was filled only with the sound of their breaths, the crackling of the fire, and the steady rhythm of their hearts beating in time with one another.

As their lips met once more, this time, it wasn’t just the heat of the kiss, the desire that had built between them—it was the deep, unspoken understanding that whatever came next, they were in it together. No barriers. No secrets.

Just the two of them, finally letting go. 

The following morning, Y/N woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she just lay there, her eyes tracing the outline of Joshua’s figure beside her, the rise and fall of his chest a calming rhythm. She could feel his warmth, his steady presence beside her, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself forget about everything that still hung between them—his family, his obligations, the secret they both kept.

But it was all still there, quietly waiting in the shadows. Closer than either one of them knew.

Joshua stirred beside her, his hand instinctively reaching out to pull her closer, his fingers grazing over the curve of her back. He didn’t speak at first, just letting the warmth of the moment settle between them. 

Joshua’s phone buzzed softly on the nightstand. The sudden interruption of their calm was a stark contrast to the quiet intimacy they had just shared. He reached for the phone, not thinking much of it at first, just expecting a message from his family or a reminder of the day’s busy schedule. But as he unlocked the screen, his heart dropped.

An email notification blinked up at him from his inbox, the sender name familiar—yet completely unexpected.

Subject: Exclusive: The Life of Joshua Hong and his Secret Love (The Untold Story)From: journalist@cityscenenews.com

The words caught him off guard. His pulse quickened as he clicked open the email, fear prickling along his spine. The article was already live, complete with images—images that left no room for doubt. It was a professional expose, a journalist’s careful investigation into his hidden relationship with Y/N, revealing everything from the quiet, secret dates to the intimate moments they had shared in public spaces.

The headline alone felt like a betrayal, and the further he read, the worse it got. The article wasn’t just a casual mention. It was a detailed account of their time together, with quotes from “anonymous sources” and observations from people who had seen them around town, careful not to reveal their identities but piecing together a narrative that felt all too real.

Excerpt from the article:

"Joshua Hong, heir to Benet Enterprises, has been quietly involved with an undisclosed woman for several months now. Sources close to the couple say that their relationship has been marked by secrecy, with the couple often seen slipping in and out of exclusive venues. While the relationship appears to be purely romantic, the question remains: Will Hong continue to keep his personal life hidden, or is this the beginning of a much larger scandal?"

The article went on to speculate about the hidden layers of his family life, the pressure from his father to conform to a certain image, and the ramifications this secret relationship could have on both their futures.

Joshua froze, his mind reeling as his eyes flickered over the content. The carefully guarded life he had worked so hard to protect now felt like it was slipping through his fingers, exposed for the world to see. And worst of all, Y/N was wrapped up in this too, her privacy shattered by the sharp edge of a journalist’s pen.

He felt the weight of the world pressing down on him as he tried to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t help but glance at Y/N, fading back into sleep beside him, unaware of what was unfolding. She looked so peaceful, her hair splayed out across his chest, her face soft and free of worry.

But that peace was short-lived.

Joshua’s phone buzzed again, this time a call coming in. He saw the name on the screen and felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

Dad.

He inhaled sharply, still holding the phone, trying to steady his nerves. He didn’t want to wake Y/N—not like this. But he knew that the reality of their situation couldn’t stay hidden for long. His father had no doubt already read the article. The pressure of his family’s expectations would come crashing down soon enough.

“Y/N,” he whispered, gently nudging her awake. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, still groggy from sleep, but when she saw his expression, the concern in his gaze, her heart skipped a beat. Something was wrong.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice soft but alert, her hand reaching for him as she sat up.

He handed her the phone without a word, watching as her expression changed from confusion to shock as she read the headline.

Her eyes lifted to meet his. The silence stretched between them for a moment, both of them absorbing the weight of what had just been thrust into their lives.

“I.. What the fuck?” Y/N said, her voice quiet, filled with a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. She shook her head, still processing what was unfolding. “How did this happen? We were so careful…”

Joshua didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how the journalist had pieced it all together—maybe someone had seen them together in the park or overheard a conversation at the gallery. Or perhaps someone closer to his world had leaked the information, knowing that the his family was a story worth telling.

“I’m so sorry,” Joshua said, his voice tight with frustration. “I never wanted you to be dragged into this. I thought we could keep it private, at least for a little while longer.”

Y/N’s hand found his again, gripping it with quiet strength. “It’s not your fault,” she said, her voice steady. “It’s just... This is bigger than we thought.”

Joshua sighed heavily, looking down at the article again, but this time he saw it from a different angle. They could try to fight it, deny it, but the story was already out there. The public would talk, his father would demand answers, and the world would judge. There was no turning back.

“I need to talk to my dad,” he said quietly, standing up from the bed, his thoughts racing.

Y/N watched him with concern, but she didn’t try to stop him. She knew this was something he had to face. But she also knew that whatever happened next, things between them would never be the same. They had been living in a fragile world, hiding behind walls of secrecy. Now those walls were crumbling, and there was no escaping the fallout.

“I’ll be here,” Y/N said softly, watching him leave the room. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The air was thick with tension as Joshua stood at the front of his father’s study, staring out the large window at the sprawling estate below. He had been here countless times before, but today it felt different—his father’s looming presence, the weight of his legacy hanging in the air, and the article still echoing in his mind.

The door opened behind him, and his father entered, his expression cold and unreadable.

“Well, it looks like you fucked up, Joshua. It was only a matter of time, really, I knew I couldn’t keep you away from disobeying me for long,” his father said, his tone devoid of surprise. “I didn’t expect it to come this way, but I suppose it was inevitable.”

Joshua turned slowly, meeting his father’s gaze. “I didn’t want it to come out like this. You know how important it is to me that our family stays out of the spotlight.”

His father raised an eyebrow, stepping further into the room. “The world doesn’t care what you want, Joshua. They care about my name. You can’t play both sides of this game. You have to choose.”

Joshua’s stomach tightened. “I’m not asking for your approval. I’m not asking for anything. This is about me—and I’m not letting anyone control that anymore. Not even you.”

His father’s expression hardened. “You don’t understand the consequences of your actions. You think you can fucking have it all—a private life and the family business—but the truth is, Joshua, you can’t.”

Joshua stood tall, meeting his father’s gaze with the kind of determination he had never shown before. “I’m done living in your shadow. I’m done being what you want me to be.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, the weight of Joshua’s words hanging in the air.

Then his father spoke, his voice softer but still laced with authority. “You’ll learn soon enough, son. Life isn’t as simple as you think it is.”

Joshua stood face to face with his father, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The room felt colder than usual, the vast space echoing with silence and the weight of the conversation that was about to unfold.Joshua could sense the storm brewing, and it was a storm that had been building for years, slowly but surely.

The article was just the catalyst. This moment was inevitable.

“You’ve made a  big fucking fool of yourself,” His dad’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the room. “The entire world now knows about your indiscretions. About the basic woman you’ve been hiding.” He emphasized the word woman, as though it was a crime just to care about someone outside of the image he had meticulously crafted for his son. “Do you think this is acceptable, Joshua? To air our family’s dirty laundry for the world to see?”

Joshua didn’t flinch. He’d expected his father’s anger. It was the only thing his father ever seemed capable of. Still, something within him hardened. This wasn’t the first time his father had made him feel small, but it would be the last.

“I never asked for any of this, Dad,” Joshua finally said, his voice firm but measured. There was no more backing down. “I never wanted this kind of life. You never gave me a choice. You’ve made it clear that the only thing that matters is your reputation, not my happiness.”

His father’s eyes narrowed, and the tension in the room thickened. “You think you have the luxury to choose what makes you happy? You’re the heir to my entire fortune, Joshua. This family, this company—this political legacy—is bigger than you or any of your personal whims. I’ve spent my entire life building this empire. And you—” Arthur’s voice grew venomous, “you’re jeopardizing it for a fleeting romance with someone who doesn’t give a damn about the cost of this life.”

Joshua felt the anger rising in him, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface. He took a deep breath, but there was no holding back anymore.

“No. I’m not jeopardizing anything. You are,” he shot back, his voice rising now. “You’ve spent my fucking whole life telling me that the only thing that matters is business—status, money, power. And for what? So I can live a life that’s not even mine? So I can wake up every morning, knowing that I’m not allowed to make a choice for myself?” His voice cracked, frustration and emotion seeping through. “I’ve had enough.”

The elder of the two took a step toward him, his expression hardening into a mask of fury. “You think you can choose happiness over responsibility? You think you can turn your back on everything I’ve built, just for some bitch? You will regret this, Joshua. You can’t just walk away from this life. The consequences of your actions will destroy everything I’ve worked for.”

Joshua took a step forward to meet him, his chest tight with the weight of his words, but his eyes clear with resolve. “Bitch? Very mature. No, Dad. What will destroy everything is continuing down this path where nothing matters except power and control. I’ve tried to live up to your expectations, but all I’ve done is lose myself. And now I’m losing her too.”

Joshua’s dad’s eyes flickered with a flash of something—maybe disbelief, or perhaps a moment of realization. “You don’t understand. The world doesn’t give you the option to choose. People will use her to get to you. You think she’s different, but they’ll tear her apart, Joshua. She’s not the kind of woman you bring into our world.”

Joshua’s jaw tightened, and the weight of his father’s words hit harder than expected. He knew his father wasn’t wrong in some ways—the world they lived in was brutal. But what he hadn’t realized until now was just how suffocating it all was. His father was trying to control him, trying to dictate not just his career, but his personal life as well.

“Maybe she isn’t the problem, Dad. Maybe it’s this life, maybe it’s you,” Joshua snapped, voice shaking with raw emotion. “You’re so busy telling me how to live, telling me what’s best for me, but you’ve never once stopped to ask me what I want. I want something real, something that isn’t dictated by your empire. I want a future where I make the decisions for myself—where I’m not just living in your shadow, pretending to be someone I’m not.”

Arthur’s face turned pale, his expression shifting between disbelief and fury. “You’re a fool, Joshua,” he spat, the words coming out like venom. “You’ll ruin everything. You’ll be fucking nothing without this family. Without me.”

Joshua could feel the weight of his father's words, but they no longer carried the same power they once did. He wasn’t the boy who had to apologize for his every move anymore. He wasn’t the man who had to silence his own desires for the sake of someone else’s expectations. Not anymore.

“No, sir,” Joshua’s voice was steady now, stronger than it had ever been. “I’m already something, with or without you. And I’m done letting you define who that is.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the air thick with the tension of a battle that had been simmering for years. Joshua felt his heart pounding in his chest as he stared at the man who had been his father. He’d spent so long trying to please him, trying to be the son he thought he was supposed to be, but now it was clear: he couldn’t do it anymore.

He wasn’t going to let his father’s grip on his life define him any longer.

Turning on his heel, Joshua made his way to the door. He had made his choice. It was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was the only way forward. He stopped just before the door, his hand on the knob.

“I’m done living for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m in love with her so either you’ll have to accept that or stop fucking inserting yourself in my life.”

Without another word, he opened the door and left, not looking back.

Joshua’s heart raced as he slammed the door behind him, leaving his father’s cold, seething gaze in the past. The decision had been made, and there was no turning back now. His mind was a blur of anger, confusion, and relief, but through it all, one thought kept him moving forward.

Y/N.

He didn’t know what he expected when he stepped out of that house, but it felt like the first breath of fresh air he’d had in years. The weight of his father's influence was something Joshua had carried for far too long, and now, for the first time in his life, he could breathe without that looming pressure suffocating him.

He made his way to his car, his steps quick but purposeful. With the engine running he sent her a text asking her where she was and just to let her know he’s on his way back to her, the place he belongs. She didn’t say much back, just sending a pin to her location. 

The drive to Y/N’s apartment felt like the longest of his life, the distance between them physically small but emotionally vast. With each turn of the wheels, each block closer, his pulse quickened, his thoughts consumed by her. He needed to tell her everything—the truth, his choice, what had just happened. There were no more secrets to keep.

As he parked in front of her building, the air outside felt charged with tension. He stepped out of the car, his hands shaking, but there was no turning back now. He couldn't run anymore. He’d faced his father, now it was time to face her.

He pressed the buzzer at the gate and waited for the familiar sound of her voice to come through the intercom.

“Hello?”

Her voice was soft, raspy, as if she had been crying and it took everything in him not to break at the sound of it. She had no idea what had just transpired, no idea of the storm brewing inside him. But he knew this was where he needed to be.

“It’s me, Joshua,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

The gate buzzed open, and he made his way up to her apartment. Each step felt heavier than the last, but his resolve grew with every inch closer he got. As he reached her door, his hand hovered over the knob for a moment before he knocked softly.

The door opened to reveal Y/N standing there, looking every bit as beautiful as she had the night before, her eyes soft with concern slightly red from her tears, as she took in his disheveled appearance. Her gaze flickered from his eyes to his hands, noticing the way he gripped the doorframe, like he needed something solid to keep him from falling apart.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice gentle yet knowing. She could see something was off, something had changed. And she didn’t need him to explain it yet. She just stepped aside, allowing him entry without pressing for more.

Joshua stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his mind still racing. He couldn’t bring himself to speak immediately. The words were lodged in his throat, heavy and sharp, but there was no turning back. He had to tell her.

“I went to see him,” Joshua finally said, his voice a little unsteady. “My father.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern, her fingers reaching out to gently touch his arm. She didn’t need to ask what had happened—she already knew it couldn’t have gone well. But she didn’t rush him; she simply waited, giving him the space to find the words.

“I stood up to him,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “For the first time in my fucking life, I stood up to him. I told him that I was done—done trying to be the son he wanted me to be. Done living under his control.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. She could see the weight of his words, feel the depth of the struggle he’d been carrying inside him for so long. She wanted to say something, to comfort him, but she knew better than to interrupt him when he was this vulnerable.

“I told him that I was in love with you,” Joshua continued, his eyes finding hers, his expression raw and open. “I told him that if he couldn’t accept that, then he needed to stay out of my life. I’m not living for him anymore. I’m living for me—and for us.”

The room seemed to freeze in that moment, the words hanging in the air between them. Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest, her breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. She had expected the conversation to go in a hundred different directions, but never this one. She had no idea what to say, how to respond to the sheer intensity of what he was telling her.

Joshua stepped closer, his hand gently cupping her face, as if reassuring himself that she was real. “I want you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice a little strained. “I want this—us—no matter the cost. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, not anymore. I’m not going to let anything stand in the way of what we have.”

Tears welled up in her eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words. The emotion that had built up between them, the weight of their shared secrets, the tension of waiting for something to finally give—it all came crashing down in that instant. She leaned into his touch, her hand reaching up to rest over his, holding him close.

“Joshua…” She couldn’t say anything else at first, too overwhelmed by everything he had just revealed. But then, the words came. “I’m so proud of you. This takes more strength than anything I could have ever imagined. I’m sorry you had to do it alone.” Her voice was thick with emotion, trembling with the weight of her feelings.

Joshua’s eyes softened as he wiped away the tear that had escaped down her cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just—I was so afraid of losing everything that I kept hiding. I didn’t know how to be honest, even with myself.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and love. “But now… I can’t keep pretending that this—we—don’t matter. You matter, Y/N. And I’m ready to face whatever comes next, with you by my side.”

Y/N stepped back for a moment, looking up at him with a soft smile. “So what happens now?”

Joshua took a deep breath, his chest still tight with the remnants of the confrontation he had left behind, but something inside him felt lighter. “Now, we take this one day at a time. We live the life we want, not the one anyone else expects us to live. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us. We can go on trips, go bowling, good restaurants, all of it.”

She smiled, her eyes glistening with unspoken hope, and nodded. “Finally.”

And in that moment, everything felt like it was falling into place—like they were finally, truly, on the same side. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be challenges, both personal and external, but together, they were ready to face them. Together, they could finally have the life they’d always wanted, the life they deserved.

A few weeks had passed since that night—since Joshua had stood up to his father, told him the truth, and chosen Y/N. Their relationship, once clouded by secrecy and the weight of Joshua’s family legacy, had blossomed into something more genuine. They were finally able to breathe without the constant fear of being caught, of their love being hidden away. Joshua’s decision had been made, and for the first time, he felt free.

He had stayed away from his father, giving them both time to cool down, to let the emotions settle. Joshua had no illusions that his father would easily accept the change. Still, he couldn’t ignore the small part of him that held hope—hope that maybe, just maybe, his father would come around.

It was a Thursday afternoon when the knock came at the door. Y/N had just finished a late lunch, reading a book on the couch when she heard it. It was a knock that didn’t sound like any of their usual visitors—sharp, deliberate, as though someone had been waiting for the right moment to arrive.

When she opened the door, she wasn’t expecting to see him.

Mr. Hong stood in the doorway, his posture stiff, his face as impassive as it always was. His suit was immaculate, his presence commanding even in this simple setting. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him. She had only ever heard about him—his control over Joshua, his icy demeanor, his relentless pursuit of perfection. And here he was, standing in her doorway as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

She hesitated for only a moment before speaking, her voice steady but cautious. “Mr. Hong.”

The man looked down at her, his gaze assessing but not unkind. “May I come in?” he asked, his tone far more measured than she had expected.

Y/N stood aside, unsure of how to react but not wanting to be rude. “Of course.”

She led him into the living room, where they both took seats on opposite ends of the space. The air was thick with the weight of his presence. Y/N felt uneasy, but she couldn’t deny the curiosity that burned inside her. What could he possibly want? Why was he here, after everything that had happened?

His father cleared his throat before speaking, his voice softer than she had anticipated. “I’ve come to apologize.”

Y/N blinked in surprise, unsure whether she had heard him right. “Apologize?” she echoed.

“Yes,” Mr. Hong said, his gaze unwavering as he looked her in the eyes. “For everything I put Joshua through. For all the years of pressure and the things I said that drove him away.”

She frowned, unsure how to process his words. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

He looked down for a moment, as though gathering his thoughts, before meeting her eyes again. “I thought I was doing what was best for him, for the family. I was wrong. I tried to control everything, everyone, and in the end, I nearly lost my son.” He paused, as though trying to comprehend the depth of what he was admitting. “When he left, when he told me he was choosing you over me… I realized something.” 

Y/N said nothing, allowing him the space to speak.

He exhaled slowly. “I realized that I had been the one keeping him in the dark. I’d been so focused on legacy, on appearances, on control, that I didn’t see what I was doing to him. He was never happy. Not truly happy. And that’s on me.” His voice broke slightly, a crack in the carefully constructed armor that had defined him for so long. “I’m… I’m sorry for that. For everything.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She had never imagined a moment like this. She had heard about the man who had shaped Joshua’s life, the man who had made him feel small, inadequate, and forever beneath the weight of expectations. And now, here he was, apologizing—not just for his actions toward her, but for how he had hurt Joshua.

“Thank you,” she said finally, her voice soft, careful. “But you should really talk to him about all of this. He’s the one you hurt most.”

His father nodded, his eyes momentarily distant. “I know. I will. I need to.” He looked back at her, his expression more vulnerable than she had ever expected to see. “But I wanted to start with you. You’ve been the one to make him see that there’s more to life than what I’ve shown him. I don’t know what you’ve done to him, but I can see that you’ve given him something I never could: the courage to be himself.”

Y/N felt a pang in her chest at the rawness of his words. She had no doubt that Joshua’s father was trying—genuinely trying. But the scars of his actions weren’t easily erased. Still, she could see the man in front of her wasn’t just the villain in Joshua’s story anymore. He was someone who had been lost too, someone who was now confronting the reality of his mistakes.

“I don’t know what Joshua will say when he hears this,” she said, her voice tentative. “But I’m sure he’ll appreciate hearing that you understand.”

His expression softened, and for the first time in their interaction, he gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. “I hope so.”

Later that evening, after Mr. Hong had left, Y/N sat quietly, waiting for Joshua. She hadn’t told him about the visit yet, unsure of how he would react. Part of her knew that the conversation with his father—though a long time coming—might be more complicated than they both realized. 

When Joshua finally arrived, looking tired but determined, Y/N didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around him as soon as he stepped through the door, needing the comfort of his presence. 

“Hey,” she said softly, pulling back to look up at him. “I need to tell you something.”

Joshua raised an eyebrow, his expression wary, but he didn’t say anything as she guided him to the couch. 

“Your dad came by today,” she said, watching his reaction closely. 

Joshua froze, his face hardening. “What did he want?”

“He came to apologize,” Y/N said carefully, gauging his reaction. 

Joshua’s face was a mixture of disbelief and something else—reluctance, maybe? It was clear that he hadn’t expected this.

“Are you serious?” His voice was low, the emotion in it impossible to miss. “I don’t know if I can believe that.”

Y/N nodded. “I understand. But I think you should hear him out. He seemed genuine.”

Joshua leaned back, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts clearly conflicted. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that. After everything he put me through…”

“I know,” she whispered, taking his hand in hers. “But you’re not the same person you were before. You don’t have to accept anything right away, but maybe... just maybe, you can give him a chance to make things right.”

Joshua was silent for a moment, his eyes staring into the distance as he processed everything. Finally, he turned back to her, his gaze softer. “Maybe.”

Y/N gave him a reassuring smile. “When you're ready. And I’ll be here.”

Joshua squeezed her hand gently. “Thank you. For everything.”

And in that moment, even with the uncertainty hanging in the air, he knew he wasn’t facing it alone. Whatever came next, he and Y/N would figure it out—together.

A few weeks had passed since His fathers unexpected visit to Y/N’s apartment. Joshua had spent that time in quiet contemplation, torn between the man his father had forced him to be and the man he was trying to become. The choice was clear now. He was ready to face his father, not as the son who had been molded by expectations, but as the man he had become—someone who had chosen his own path, his own love, and his own life.

He had talked it through with Y/N, who had been nothing but supportive, patient, and understanding. She knew the road to reconciliation with his father wouldn’t be easy. She had seen the scars of his childhood, the way his father’s love had always felt conditional, based on his achievements and his conformity to a perfect image. But she also knew Joshua needed to do this for himself, not for his father, and not for anyone else. 

And so, the day came when Joshua, heart pounding in his chest, decided it was time. 

Joshua stood in front of Y/N’s apartment, his knuckles lightly tapping the door before he opened it. She was sitting on the couch, the familiar soft light of the afternoon streaming through the windows. He could see the faint worry in her eyes when she looked up at him.

“I think it’s time,” he said simply, his voice steady but with an underlying current of nerves.

Y/N smiled, standing up and walking toward him. She could see it in his eyes, the determination but also the vulnerability. She nodded, her heart swelling with pride. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she said, her voice soothing yet firm. “But if you are, I’ll be right there with you.”

Joshua took her hands in his, squeezing them gently. “I’m ready. I need to do this. Not just for me, but for us.”

The drive to the Hong estate felt longer than it should have, each mile adding to Joshua’s uncertainty. Y/N sat next to him, her presence grounding him. Every now and then, she would reach over and give his hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding him that this wasn’t something he had to face alone.

When they finally pulled up to the grand gates of the home, Joshua felt the weight of the past pressing down on him. He had never been this nervous in his life—not even on the first date with Y/N. But this wasn’t just about meeting someone new; this was about stepping into a world that had always made him feel small, inadequate, like he could never measure up.

Y/N could feel the tension radiating off him, and she didn’t say anything, just held his hand tighter as they made their way up the driveway. They both knew this wasn’t just a visit; it was a defining moment. The confrontation with his father had to happen, but this moment, right now, was the one that would decide if things could truly change between them.

They walked through the front door of the house, which felt strangely empty despite the grandness of the foyer. Everything in this house was cold, too pristine, too perfectly arranged. It was a place where emotions had always been kept at a distance, and Joshua had spent years trying to meet his father’s impossible standards.

Joshua’s father was sitting in the living room, an armchair that he always seemed to claim as his own. His expression was unreadable as he stood to greet them, but there was a visible tension in his posture. This wasn’t just the son he had known; this was a different Joshua—the Joshua who had learned to stand up for himself, the Joshua who had chosen a different life. 

Y/N stood by Joshua’s side, her presence a quiet strength, something that made the room feel a little less suffocating.

“Joshua,” he said, his voice tight but respectful. “You’ve come.”

Joshua nodded, his heart racing. “Yes. I came to talk.”

His eyes flickered to Y/N before returning to his son. “Hello, y/n.” His voice was even, but there was an unfamiliar softness to it. “I didn’t expect her to want to join us.”

Y/N met his gaze, her expression calm but firm. She wasn’t intimidated by him, but she could sense that this moment was as much about her as it was about Joshua. She understood that this was the first step toward something real—for them, as a family.

Joshua cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “I wanted to be clear with you, Father. I’m not the person you always wanted me to be. I’ve tried, but I’ve realized I can’t be that person anymore. I’m in love with Y/N, and she’s part of my life now. I need you to understand that.”

The elders jaw tightened at the mention of Y/N’s name, but he said nothing for a long moment. His gaze softened slightly, and he let out a slow breath. “I never wanted to hurt you, Joshua. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I wanted you to have the life I never had, the life I thought you deserved. But I can see now that I’ve been blind.”

Joshua felt a flicker of something—a small spark of hope, perhaps. But he knew better than to get ahead of himself. His father’s apology wasn’t going to fix everything in one moment.

His father took a step closer, his eyes searching Joshua’s. “I’ve made mistakes. I’ve tried to control you, to force you into something that wasn’t you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

Y/N watched the exchange carefully, her hand still firmly in Joshua’s. She knew this was a big step for him, and it wasn’t about forgiving or forgetting. It was about opening the door to something new, to a different kind of relationship with his father, one built on respect instead of fear.

“Thank you,” Joshua said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “That means more than you know.”

There was a long pause before his dad spoke again. “I don’t expect things to change overnight. But I want to try, Joshua. I want to try to understand who you are now. Who you’ve become. And if you want her in your life, if she’s a part of your future, then… I’ll try to accept that too.”

Joshua didn’t know if his father’s words were enough to undo the years of strain between them, but they were a start. A step toward healing.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her presence a constant reassurance. “Thank you,” she said softly, offering a warm, genuine smile. 

There was a long silence as the three of them stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in. It wasn’t perfect. There were still so many things unsaid, so much to be worked through. But for the first time in his life, Joshua felt a flicker of something he hadn’t thought was possible—hope. Maybe things between him and his father could be different, maybe they could find a way forward. 

As they left the Hong estate later that evening, hand in hand, Joshua took a deep breath, feeling lighter than he had in years.

“I didn’t expect him to say that,” he admitted, his voice a mixture of disbelief and cautious optimism. 

Y/N smiled softly, leaning her head on his shoulder as they walked. “I don’t think he expected it either. But it’s a start.”

Joshua looked down at her, his heart swelling with love and gratitude. “Thank you for coming with me. For everything.”

She smiled up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “Always, babe. I’m right here, no matter what.”

The weeks that followed the meeting with his father were filled with uncertainty, but also a quiet sense of relief. Joshua and Y/N had continued to grow closer, their bond stronger than ever. There were still conversations to be had, still moments of tension between him and his father, but Joshua could finally breathe, unburdened by the weight of his past.

His dad had made an effort—slowly, carefully—to rebuild his relationship with Joshua. They started talking more, and although their relationship wasn’t perfect, it was real. Joshua had learned that it wasn’t about erasing the past, but about creating a new path forward—one where he could be true to himself, without needing to seek approval from the person who had once held all the power over him.

One Saturday evening, just shy of a few months after that pivotal day, Joshua and Y/N found themselves in a small, cozy spot by the river. The sun was beginning to set, casting golden hues over the water as they sat in a quiet corner, far from the noise of the world.

“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Joshua said, his voice light with amusement. He had a warm smile on his face, one that was genuine, carefree—the smile of a man who had finally found his place.

Y/N laughed softly, taking a sip of her tea. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... just us. No hiding. No pretending. It feels... good.”

She smiled, the warmth in her chest matching the feeling in her heart. “It does, doesn’t it?”

They had spent so much time in secret—dodging his family’s scrutiny, keeping their love hidden from the world—but now, things were different. They didn’t have to sneak around. They could hold hands in public, share quiet moments, and talk openly about their future. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t always easy, but it was theirs.

Joshua reached across the table, his hand finding hers. He looked at her, his gaze soft and full of affection. “You’ve made me believe in more than just surviving, Y/N. I thought for so long that I had to play by someone else’s rules... that I had to prove something to my father, to everyone. But with you, I’ve learned that I can just be. And that’s enough.”

Y/N squeezed his hand, her heart swelling with love. “I never wanted you to be anyone but yourself, Joshua. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, least of all to me.”

Joshua’s eyes shone with emotion, and for the first time in a long time, he let himself fully embrace the love they had—love that wasn’t about expectations or conditions, but about simply being there for one another. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For never giving up on me. For standing by me when I wasn’t sure who I was.”

Y/N’s eyes glistened, and she shook her head. “I didn’t give up on you. I believed in you, Shua. Always.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, the gentle hum of the café surrounding them. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and purple. The world felt like it was slowing down, just for them.

Suddenly, Joshua pulled something from his pocket—something small, wrapped carefully in velvet. Y/N looked at him, curious, as he slid it across the table toward her.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, her voice a mix of surprise and delight.

Joshua smiled softly, the same warmth in his eyes that she had come to love. “Just a little something for you.”

She carefully unwrapped it, revealing a delicate diamond engagement ring. The center stone sparkled brightly, a soft halo surrounding it, elegant and timeless—a reflection of everything they had been through, and everything they would face together in the future.

“What the.. Is this?” She said, her voice soft, filled with awe.

“I thought it was time,” Joshua said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not asking you to wait forever anymore, Y/N. I want to spend the rest of my life with you—no more hiding, no more uncertainty. I want you by my side, always.”

Y/N felt a rush of warmth flood her chest, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the ring. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice steady but full of love. “You’ve been my strength, my guide, my heart. I want this. I want you.”

She nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Joshua gently took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. He looked at her with such intensity, his eyes soft with love and promise. “I love you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever known how to say.”

She smiled through the tears, her heart overflowing. “I love you too. I always have.”

And with that, they sat in the warmth of each other’s company, knowing that no matter what the future held, they would face it together—unapologetically, without fear, and with hearts that had finally found their home in each other.

Months later, the Hong estate had changed. It wasn’t an overnight transformation, but there was progress. Joshua had finally learned how to set boundaries with his father, and though there were still disagreements, there was a newfound respect between them. Joshua had come to terms with the fact that his father’s approval would never be unconditional, but he had also come to understand that he didn’t need it to be happy.

He was no longer defined by his father’s expectations or by the pressure of a legacy he had never chosen. He was his own man, with his own dreams—and he had Y/N by his side. They were no longer a secret. They were a couple, standing proudly in the light of the life they had chosen for themselves.

And when the time came for their wedding day, the simple, intimate ceremony was filled with love—not just from the two of them, but from their families and friends who had supported them along the way. It wasn’t about grand gestures or the approval of others; it was about their love, which had been forged in secret but had blossomed into something pure and real.

As they stood together at the altar, Joshua holding her hand, Y/N smiled up at him, knowing that this was only the beginning of their life together.

They had faced the darkness. They had fought for each other. And now, they were stepping into a future full of love, trust, and hope.

[fuggglers]

caitlyn kiramman x female reader

cw: smut , dom!caitlyn , sub!reader , sucking on fingers , spit kink idk , voyeurism , degrading like once , not proofread so ignore any mistakes

a muffled gag comes out of your mouth when caitlyn reaches her long, slim fingers father down your throat and presses down on your tongue.

your hand quickly flew up to her wrist, slightly pulling it when she tries to reach down your throat further.

you're placed in between her spread thighs, on your knees. saliva inevitably seeps out of your sealed lips, running down your chin and spilling onto your neck. a smirk grows on her face when she sees it pooping out of your mouth.

she'd been running her fingertips across your tongue and teeth for a while now, feeling every bump of your tastes buds and occasionally reaching far down enough to make you gag. her fingers were constantly exploring, but they suddenly stop.

she holds them there for a second. you look up at her with confused eyes.

"suck."

you immediately do as she says, hollowing your cheeks and sucking on her fingers. she smiles wide at the sensation, bringing her other hand down to your cheek and running her thumb up and down your cheekbones.

the sweetness only lasts for what seems like a second, and then she rips both her hands away from you, depriving you of her touch.

she spreads your spit around your mouth and chin and then pulls her hand away again. you pout and lean your head against one of her thick thighs, your hand curving over to grip the side of her.

"need you to touch me.." you whisper, to a point where if you lowered your voice any more she'd make you repeat yourself.

she pushes her foot between your legs, forcing them apart. her foot is inches away from where you need her most, and it send electric shocks through your body. but she pulls away. again.

"touch yourself." you can hear the amusement in her voice as she leans back slightly and waits.

you look up at her hesitantly, but nonetheless slide your hand down and start undoing your pants.

you submerge your hands in your unzipped jeans, rubbing small circles over your clothed clit. you bite your lip to keep in the gasp that threatens to come out, but caitlyn notices. she grips your jaw with her strong hands and harshly tilts your head up to look at her.

"don't quiet yourself, let me hear you." she unhooks your lip from your teeth with her thumb. you part your lips slightly, and shove your hand in your panties.

you run your middle finger up and down your cunt, closing your eyes tightly at the amazing feeling. you were sensitive.. and wet.

your fingers circle your hole, before shoving them in desperately. you bring your thumb up to your clit, rubbing it rather quickly.

her fingers tangle in your hair and grip. you feel her intense gaze upon you, and it never leaves.

your fingers curl inside of you and speed up, you feel the all so familiar knot forming in your stomach. the soft moans and whimpers you let out is like music to caitlyn’s ears. but she can’t help but have an overwhelming feeling to stop them, to put an end to your pleasure and not let you finish.

“stop.” she puts her foot so hard against your cunt that you wouldn’t even be able to continue your movements if you tried. you let out a loud whine at the sudden loss of pleasure. she reaches down and pulls your hand away from you. she enjoys seeing you like this.

she smiles down menacingly at you. “you’re such a slut”

on an arcane high rn… like everyone else lol

[darlingdreadwrites]

Still and Breathless

pairing: Ticci Toby x Final Girl!Reader

part: 1, 2

summary: Having escaped from Toby the first time, you decide to go back to the woods. You know this is a stupid decision, but something has pulled you back. Toby is more than ecstatic, and equally confused. He gave you a chance to leave, to keep your life. He thinks one more chase would keep you safely away, but your body thinks otherwise.

contains: getting chased by toby (again), slight pov switches, flashback, kissing

warning: logic has gone out the window

word count: 2.6k

masterlist

a.n: naming part 2 something else because ticci toby x final girl!reader part 2 looks ugly LOL im finally done with part 2, sorry for the wait. im making it up with a kiss! this took so long im so sorry.

The ride back to the woods was deafeningly silent, apart from the engine’s low hum. You were punishing yourself with it, or maybe allowing the silence to give you a chance to change your mind. You let out another shaky breath as you kept your eyes on the road. You shift and the leather seat creaks, remind you that this isn’t a dream – you’re doing this. Yor grip on the steering wheel tightens more than it should. Your nails dig into the soft groves, knuckles white from the force. Your gaze flickers to the rearview mirror for the millionth time and, yes, it’s still there. The hatchet – his hatchet – is resting on the backseat. The sunlight causes the spots where it’s not caked in mud and aged blood to glint at you. It’s as if it’s winking, mockingly remind you that what you were doing was completely, undeniable fucking insane.

Who drives around with their almost-killer’s weapon?

But you were even worse, it seems.

You were driving with it to him. What was your plan? To give it back to him? You tried to tell yourself it was for revenge – to finish what you should’ve done that night. But who were you kidding? A disgusting part of you you didn’t understand yet wanted to see him.

“This is crazy,” you mutter, shaking your head – and the memories – away. The woods, the blood, the house, the bathroom, his eyes – wide, crazy, and… adoring. You were sure that’s what it was – adoration. You’ve had a lot of time to think about it. You’ve never been looked at like that before. It was clear you were still prey to him, but in the way that he’d kill you and devour you with reverence. Your jaw tightens.

The woods around you grow denser, your apprehension mixing with a strange thrill. You shouldn’t have gone to a party so close to the woods at night. They’ve always freaked you out, so why did you? It must’ve been the same impulse that pulled you to mechanically walk deeper into the swallowing edge of the forest. You should’ve called the cops when you escaped out of that house.

Your heavy, erratic breaths made your head feel lighter than it should. It hurt to breathe at that point, the weight of the hatchet made your arm ache. Your hand shook as fingers wrapped around the splintered wood, but you gripped the weapon. Your attacker was sprawled out in the tub, eyes half-lidded and dazed. You managed to hold the hatchet with both hands, then.

“If you move,” you managed, your voice a trembling murmur, “I will chop your dick off.”

The threat felt ridiculous as it fell out of your mouth, but you meant it. God, you meant it.

He didn’t react, he just kept watching you. You didn’t know why, and it pissed you off greatly. He had the energy and time to chase you and hurt you, but he couldn’t even give you this one thing? He whispered something, but you couldn’t make it over the pounding in your ears. Anger bubbled in your chest, and you had the courage to speak up again.

“Did you hear me?” you snapped, raising the hatchet.

This time, he slowly nodded before a tic caused his neck to twist. He let his head fall back against the tub, still watching you. You stumbled back with shaky legs, determined to get out before he changed his mind. You mumbled an “okay” as your back hit the doorframe. Readjusting your way, you started to run.

The gravel crunches under your wheels as you roll to a stop, the sound fading into the quiet of the forest around you. You turn off the engine and let your hands linger on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. There was one other car here, an old blue sedan with tinted windows. You look in the rearview mirror again before twisting in your seat to face it head-on. You didn’t want to touch it, but your hand moved anyway, getting hold of the hatchet’s neck. It was a familiar surface now, the feeling of worn wood. It shouldn’t have been. A voice in your head whispers, urging you to think again and head back home. But you were tired of constantly thinking about that night – you wanted to end whatever had started.

The woods seemed to have known you would be back, it was quiet, dense, and dark. The trees stretched endlessly in all directions. You had been walking for a few minutes, the crunch of leaves eliciting a memory in you. You paused for no particular reason other than to take in the cool air. Your beaths were shallow, a pulse hammering in your ears as you just stand there. The hatchet hangs limply at your side, and you begin to regret everything. I’m not being brave, you told yourself, I’m being stupid.

Something sharp snaps behind you – a twig. You freeze, making your grip firm on the hatchet. Your head turns slowly, heart racing as your eyes scan the trees for any sign of –

Him. You see him.

He was standing just a few feet away, just past where the light faded into shadow – just off the path. You would have missed him if it wasn’t for the way his shoulder twitches. The sight was jarring, he was so out of place and yet perfectly at home among the trees. He doesn’t move, he just watches you. Instead of the mask he had worn that night, his mouth was now covered by a black bandanna. The narrow stream of sunlight caught on the orange lenses of his goggles, perched atop of his curly brown hair. His hands were loosely at his sides, but you could just make out the twitch of his fingers – a subtle, restless energy that matched the slight tilting of his head as he looks at you.

Your heart pounds, every muscle in your body screaming at you to run away as fast as you can. But you can’t – not yet.

Not yet?

As if it were possible, the forest grew quieter around you.

Toby didn’t think in all his life that he would ever see you again. He had replayed the last encounter so many times in his mind that it felt like a fever dream. There was no way he let you escape – to let you live and risk revealing his actions to the world. But here you were, standing there like something out of a story he didn’t deserve to read twice. His breath hitches, eyes shutting tightly involuntarily. You weren’t supposed to be here. But you were, and it didn’t matter why – here you were. And, yup, he was still obsessed with you.

You really are something, aren’t you?

He moves slowly toward you, stepping out of the shadows as if he were approaching a skittish animal. This whole thing was surreal. Even the soft crunching of the ground beneath his boots sound fake. His limbs buzz with a nervous energy, and he clenches and unclenches his fists. He needed to steady himself; he can’t take this moment for granted – if it was real. As his eyes dart down and around you, drinking you in again. You stood there with the same defiance he had missed, your fingers tightened around his hatchet. You held it like it was yours. You certainly earned it.

You came back, he thought to himself. After everything I did to you. You came back. To me.

Every inch of him twitches with a need to reach out and touch you – to make sure this was real. He stops just a few paces away, waiting for you to do something first.

You felt as if you had stopped breathing the second he stopped in front of you. You didn’t know what he was feeling behind the bandanna, so you wouldn’t let him find out any of the emotions that swirled around your head. Your eyes glance down at the hatchet on his hip, making you tighten your grip on yours. He whistles, but you are used to his tics by this point. You didn’t know if he would hurt you, he wasn’t making whatever he could–would–do clear. You were just glad to have a weapon this time.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and you swear he could hear it. You think back to that night, his unpredictability. He’d slow down, waiting for you to do something, before exploding into violence with no remorse. But he stopped in that bathroom. You were so sure that you were going to die that night. He easily could have.

What the hell is wrong with you?

If you made it out again, maybe you would have the answer.

He moves closer, and your pulse quickens. This isn’t one of the dreams you have had recently, you are in the same woods. You drove here and looked for him. What did you want from him?

Your eyes meet his again, and something inside of you snaps.

You don’t wait for him to make the first move. Your legs start all on their own, darting in a random direction in the woods. The same adrenaline that drove you that night was surging through you now. Branches whip at your arms and legs, your heartbeat in your ears. You don’t look back. You knew he was coming.

The wind sung in your ears with every wide step you took. Twigs snap, leaves crunch, and it was considerably harder to do this while holding a hatchet. You still don’t know why you decided to run, it’s not like you were heading to the safety of your car. It was just thrilling; you got a strange high from it. The distant thump and rhythm of his pursuit pushes you on because you’d be pretty pissed at yourself if you let him win this time. Imagine surviving the attack of a serial killer, only to come back to him willingly and lose. That would be devastatingly embarrassing.

“Y-you’re slow tod-today,” he taunts from behind you, cutting through the silent concentration.

You didn’t answer. Your lungs burn, and you weren’t sure if anything that came out would be coherent. You dare to glance over your shoulder, seeing him closer than before. You refuse to let that scare you, though. You beat him once before.

He was playing with you.

You hear a laugh echoing between the trees behind you. He’s going to try and pop out beside you, you realize. You prepare, holding the hatchet closer to you as you duck under a low branch. Just as you thought – there he was.

“Tired?” he sang, coming from somewhere to your left.

But you were already veering to the right instinctively. The unrelenting aggression from when you first met wasn’t there anymore. You could tell by the way he kept laughing and taunting you. He wasn’t trying to catch you – not really. This was just a game to him, just how you thought it was when you “won” last time. The rush you got from “winning” against a serial killer – you want that again.

The forest floor gave away and your view of the world tilts – fast. You both hit the floor with a thud, your bodies a tangling mess of limbs. The air was forced out of your lungs in a sharp gasp, but you move quickly.

Toby scrambles under you for a second, but you’re faster. You press your knee into his chest, pinning him down and wrestling the hatchet into position. Gripping the handle with both hands, you press it sideways against his neck. You knew he had an uncanny way of not feeling pain, but you were sure he could feel his breathing constricted.

You shift your knee, digging it into the dirt beside him. You lean over him, just enough to hear the slight hitch of his breath behind the bandanna. For another moment, neither of you move. The forest fell into silence again. His goggles were one movement from sliding off of the disheveled mess of his hair. Wild eyes flick up to meet yours, and you silently dare him to try anything.

Toby’s body betrays him almost immediately. They start small – his tics make him shut his eyes tight, his shoulder twitching against the ground. Each movement was maddening and uncontrollable, and he hates how vulnerable the tics make him look – how vulnerable he feels under you.

The sharp, rapid jerking of his head causes the bandanna tied around his face to loosen. He can feel the knot undoing itself, the fabric sliding upward and partially covering his eyes. He let out a low, frustrated growl. He tries moving his chin downward, trying to shake it back into place, but it was too late. With another involuntary neck twitch to the left, he stiffens at the realization - that side of his face was now visible. And he could only make out part of your forehead, obscuring any reaction you could’ve had right now.

His lips twitch into a grimace, the scarred corner pulling awkwardly. A cold sense of dread forms a tightening knot in his stomach as the silence drags on. He knows you’re looking at it – you’re eating up every detail, probably disgusted.

Don’t look at it, he pleads, don’t stare.

The old wound throbs faintly, not from any type of pain… but from a distant memory he could never seem to grasp. His jaw clenches and his grip on the hatchet tightens, fingers brushing against yours. He can feel you trembling from the remaining adrenaline in your body. He hates how much he wants you to look away and how much he doesn’t. It was a maddening thrill to be so close to you, but he was sure he would never see you again after this.

The sounds of your breathing silenced all the sounds of the world around both of you. The tension between you was unbearably suffocating – as if it was you with the wooden handle pressed against your neck. Something, you didn’t know what, was threatening to snap. You didn’t know what you were thinking – if you were thinking.

You lean down, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was as brief as it was forceful. It was like a car crash – a collision charged with adrenaline and defiance. You were taking and claiming your victory, proving once again that you could overpower him. There was a weakness in him, and you were proud to hold that title.

Your heart beats violently in your chest as you pull back. You can’t make out the emotions in his eyes, but by the way his lips part makes it clear – he’s just as shocked as you were, if not more.

This time, you were sure some kind of demon was possessing you. The kiss was slower this time, a curiosity driving you now. His lips are chapped, but not entirely unpleasant. You can feel the vibration of his grunt as the handle of the hatchet stays pressed to his neck. This isn’t enough, you think. It wasn’t enough to satiate the myriads of confusing emotions thrashing inside of you. But just as you let your lips part – just as the tip of your tongue touches his – you snap back into attention.

You sit up, still on his stomach and keeping him in place with his hatchet. It all seems to come back rushing at once – the wind in the trees, the chirping of birds. Your face burns as you stare down at him. He doesn’t say a word - you were getting tired of this.

Then, slowly, his lips curled into a crooked grin. The bandanna is still bunched up awkwardly over his eyes. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, as if not wanting to taste anything left of the kiss. You don’t know what any of this means – what twisted bond you just solidified. All you knew was that the air felt heavier than anything you’d ever experienced before.

[revelboo]

lol, I’d give the scavengers the silent treatment after they told reader no. Just to be petty now that we can communicate with them.

Pretty much

Lifeless Ordinary Pt 7

Scavengers x Reader

• Heaving a sigh at the sound of peds approaching where you’re curled up in a nest of blankets on Spinister’s berth, you don’t even bother to look. “Go away.” A big hand lands on the berth about a foot from you, a shadow falling across you. And as childish as it is, you tug a blanket over your head, trying to ignore whoever it is this time. They’d explained that they didn’t know where your world was. That they couldn’t take you home, but you can’t help but feel that they’re not even trying. That they don’t care about getting you home.

• Leaning over you, Misfire tugs the blanket away and you glare up at him. Still sulking. “Just so you know, Spinister punched Fulcrum through a wall. For looking at him funny. Big guy’s in a mood because you’re ignoring everyone.” And your dismal mood isn’t sitting well with him either if he’s completely honest with himself. Wings flicking slightly as you turn your head away to ignore him. Pushing his buttons as he seizes you and drags you by a leg out of your nest. Caging you on your back under his servos and feeling you shove at him. “You think any of us wanted to be here? We didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

• Pushing against his hand, you glare up at him. Wanting to blame them. Needing this to be someone’s fault, because you feel so helpless and small. And you’d been so sure that everything would be okay once they could understand you. Wanting to cry suddenly, because none of this is fair. Blaming them isn’t fair and you ending up here. None of it.

• It’s not like he isn’t painfully aware that they’re all unwanted. The losers, the failures that were abandoned, bound together by desperation to survive and stay free. “I know this isn’t what you want.” You’re not pushing at his hand anymore, just staring up at him. “Believe me, I get that. And it’s selfish, but I want you here with us.” Hates admitting that out loud, being vulnerable. But you are one of them now. A Scavenger whether you like it or not.

• Head thumping back against the berth you close your eyes, suddenly exhausted. Because that frustration in his voice leaves you feeling guilty. A spoiled brat throwing a tantrum because you’re not getting your way when they’ve only ever taken care of you. Or at least, tried. Asking nothing in return. Reaching up, you lay a hand on his servo. “What exactly is it we do?” You ask.

• Trying to keep Spinister and Crankcase from brawling on the bridge, Krok’s head lifts at the sound of a little voice. Your voice. “So we’re pirates?” And Spinister drops Crankcase, heading straight for Misfire and the little human he has cradled against him. Thank, Primus. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’re… okay, we might be pirates?” Misfire mutters, turning slightly to keep Spinister from taking you from him. “Are we pirates?” And Krok relaxes, running a palm against his aching helm. Because you’re smiling even if it looks forced as Spinister tries to reach across Misfire to get to you.

Previous

[scarletwinterxx]

benefit of friends - kim mingyu imagine

god really made this man to be the most perfect one😭 how to get your own kim mingyu (asking for a friend) lol anyways hope you like this one!

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pic not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve always been good at compartmentalizing.

Work is work. Fun is fun. Feelings? Well, they’re like those receipts stuffed into your wallet... you’ll deal with them later.

Your arrangement with Mingyu, your ridiculously handsome coworker-turned-“friend-with-benefits,” was supposed to fall neatly into the “fun” category.

No strings, no expectations, no messy emotions.

But tonight, at the company dinner, you’re beginning to realize that neatly labeled boxes have a way of getting jumbled when Mingyu’s around.

The restaurant is buzzing with chatter, glasses clinking, and the hum of soft music in the background. His deep, warm laugh carries over the noise, drawing glances from everyone at your table. He’s always been effortlessly charming, with his broad shoulders, that perfect smile, and a sense of humor that’s impossible to resist.

And right now, someone else seems to have noticed.

A junior marketing associate, her name slips your mind, but she’s all bright eyes and flirty giggles. She's leaning just a little too close to him. Her hand grazes his arm as she laughs at something he said, and you swear you see her fingers linger there for a moment longer than necessary.

Your chest tightens, and you quickly take a sip of your wine, hoping the bitterness will drown the unfamiliar feeling clawing its way up your throat.

Jealousy.

It’s ridiculous, really. You and Mingyu aren’t together.

You’ve both made it clear: this is casual. Easy. No messy emotions, remember?

So why does it bother you so much when he leans in to whisper something to her, his grin widening as she laughs again?

“Are you okay?” a colleague asks, pulling you out of your spiral.

“Yeah, fine,” you reply, forcing a smile.

But your eyes can’t help darting back to Mingyu.

Later, as the group begins to thin out, people leaving one by one, you make your way to the bar for another drink.

You need something. Anything to steady your nerves. You’re swirling your glass idly when you feel someone slide onto the stool beside you.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Mingyu says, his voice low and teasing.

You don’t turn to look at him immediately. “I’m just tired,” you lie.

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning a little closer. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, and it makes your heart race.

“Tired? Or… distracted?”

That gets your attention. You glance at him, and he’s watching you with that playful glint in his eye, like he already knows exactly what’s on your mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, feigning indifference.

“Oh, don’t you?” He grins, and it’s infuriatingly attractive. “You’ve been glaring daggers at poor Mina all night.”

So that’s her name. Mina.

“I wasn’t glaring,” you snap, a little too defensively.

He laughs softly, leaning even closer until his shoulder brushes yours. “You were. And, for the record, it was kind of cute.”

“I wasn’t jealous, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Really?” His voice drops, and suddenly the air between you feels charged. “Because it looked a lot like jealousy to me.”

You turn to face him fully, ready to argue, but the words catch in your throat when you see the way he’s looking at you—intense, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Mingyu,” you start, but your voice comes out softer than you intended.

“Relax,” he says, smirking. “I wasn’t interested in her, anyway.”

Your heart stumbles over itself, and you hate how much that admission makes your pulse race. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, turning back to your drink.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice warm and teasing, “but you like me anyway.”

The car ride home is quieter than usual. Mingyu insisted on sharing a ride, though you suspect it’s less about convenience and more about prolonging the teasing

As the car pulls up to your apartment, you hesitate for a moment. You should say goodnight and leave it at that.

But when Mingyu’s hand brushes yours as he moves to open the door, your resolve wavers.

“Want to come up?” you ask, your voice casual, though your heart is anything but.

He smiles knowingly. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Your apartment feels smaller with Mingyu in it. The tension that’s been simmering all night seems to boil over as he follows you inside, his eyes lingering on you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“You know,” he says, his tone teasing but softer now, “if you’re going to get jealous every time someone flirts with me, we might have to renegotiate this whole ‘just friends’ thing.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you say again, though even you don’t believe it this time.

“Sure,” he says, stepping closer. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, but before you can come up with a retort, his hand cups your cheek, and suddenly you forget how to speak.

“Mingyu,” you whisper, but he cuts you off with a kiss—soft at first, almost tentative, before it deepens. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

You don’t remember moving, but somehow you end up against the kitchen counter, his lips trailing down your neck as your hands tangle in his hair.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, though it comes out more like a sigh.

“And yet,” he says, his breath warm against your skin, “you keep me around.”

His lips find yours again, and this time there’s no teasing, no games, just the kind of intensity that leaves you breathless and wondering how you ever thought you could keep this casual.

Later, as you lie tangled together on your couch, his arm draped lazily over your waist, you realize your carefully labeled boxes have completely unraveled.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re okay with that.

It starts at a casual get-together with some of your friends. Mingyu wasn’t supposed to come. You invited him half-jokingly, figuring he’d have better things to do on a Friday night. But to your surprise, he’d shown up, effortlessly sliding into the group as if he’d always been part of it.

And now, you wish he hadn’t.

Not because you’re upset he’s here.

Far from it.

Mingyu has a way of making everything more fun. It’s just that you’re too aware of him, standing across the room, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he’s keeping tabs on you.

You’re talking to a guy.

what was his name again? Jae? Jin? Mingyu thought to hinself.

The guy has clearly been angling for your attention all night but you don’t notice. You’re oblivious to the way he leans a little too close when he speaks or the way his hand brushes yours unnecessarily as you reach for your drink.

Mingyu notices, though.

From his spot by the makeshift bar, he’s gripping his glass a little too tightly, his jaw clenched as he watches the scene unfold. He tells himself it’s fine—you’re not his, and he has no right to feel this way. But when Jae-or-whatever laughs a little too loud at something you’ve said, leaning in like he’s about to touch you, something snaps.

Before he knows it, he’s crossing the room.

“Hey,” Mingyu says, his voice smooth but laced with an edge as he steps between you and Jason, casually sliding his arm around your waist. “Didn’t realize you’d made a new friend.”

“Mingyu? What are you doing?” You blink up at him, surprised

“Just thought I’d check in,” he says, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. His gaze shifts to Jason, who suddenly looks less sure of himself. “Who’s this?”

Jason clears his throat. “Uh, I’m Joon. We were just talking.”

“Talking, huh?” Mingyu says, his smile sharp. “That’s nice. But I think she’s good here.”

“Mingyu—” you start, but he’s already steering you away, his hand firm on your lower back.

You glance back at Joon, who’s standing there awkwardly, but Mingyu doesn’t let you linger. He leads you out onto the balcony, where the cool night air hits your skin.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, spinning to face him.

“What was that?” he counters, his voice low and tense. “That guy was all over you.”

“He was not!” you protest. “We were just talking.”

“You’re so oblivious sometimes, you know that? He wasn’t just talking, he was hitting on you.”

You cross your arms, irritation bubbling up. “And what if he was? It’s not like you get to decide who I talk to.”

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then he steps closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

“Maybe I don’t,” he says quietly, his voice dangerously calm. “But I didn’t like it.”

Your breath catches. His proximity, the intensity in his gaze—it’s overwhelming

“Why do you even care?” you ask, though your voice is softer now, less sure. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, and suddenly the world feels smaller, like it’s just the two of you on that balcony.

“You really don’t know, do you?”

Your heart pounds as he leans in, his forehead resting against yours

“I care,” he murmurs, his voice rough with something that feels too big to name, “because you’re mine.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and undeniable.

“Mingyu—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours with a desperation that leaves you breathless. It’s not soft or tentative like before—it’s possessive, claiming, as if he’s trying to prove something to both of you.

You don’t resist. Instead, you pull him closer, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt as his hands slide to your waist, gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, he rests his forehead against yours again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know we said no feelings. No strings. But I can’t help it. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else having you.”

Your chest tightens, and for once, you don’t push him away. Instead, you reach up to trace the line of his jaw, your touch soft.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, but there’s no heat in your words. “But I guess you're my idiot.”

His smile is equal parts relief and triumph. “Damn right I am”

Back inside, the party continues without you, but neither of you cares. You end up in your apartment again, the tension between you finally boiling over.

This time, there’s no hesitation, no teasing. Just the two of you giving in to what’s been building for weeks. His hands are everywhere, mapping every inch of your skin like he’s memorizing you, and when you pull him down onto the couch, he follows without question.

“Say it again,” he murmurs against your neck, his voice rough and low as his lips trail downward.

“Say what?” you manage, your breath hitching as his hands slide under your shirt.

“That you’re mine,” he says, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze, hidden beneath all the confidence.

You cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’m yours,” you whisper, and the way his expression softens makes your heart ache.

“Good,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’m yours too.”

And this time, when he kisses you, it feels like a promise.

[thatnonameuser]

Ok y’all hear me out. I wouldn’t mind being a darling for Kalim, Leona and Malleus b/c they are rich. Maybe not Malleus b/c Lilia is like an annoying mother in law.

So what if a darling is high maintenance? (like wanting designer, having money to get their hair done and stuff)

I can see Lilia “beating” the high maintenance out of the darlings LOL

I also wouldn’t mind, the economy’s in shambles and being pampered and spoiled by the wealth of the rich boys for the rest of my life, I already think they’re hot so it’s not like it’ll be hard. (Though if I had to learn the fae language I would just combust)

So you’re high maintenance, wanting to enjoy only the finer things of life and nothing else. Well…..

Leona Kingscholar

Oh really? Well, if it’s that easy to buy your affection then expect his wallet to be in your lap before you finish your sentence. 

Leona’s a prince who doesn’t even keep an eye on his wallet. (Seriously, he just tosses it at Ruggie and goes about with his day), so if you ever bring up some money problem, he’ll just toss his wallet at you and just not ask for it back. Plus, his royal blood is actually good for something, so putting you in the lap of luxury others can’t access is easy for him. 

Expect to be his pillow for a while though, he’s not a nice guy so you gotta pay him back somehow….

Gift Preference - Doesn’t have one. He either gives you what you ask for or something that marks you as his. 

Kalim Al-Asim

Oh, you like expensive things and just expensive things? Here you go! 

Kalim already loves giving you gifts, and he never really bothers to look at the price tag when it comes to anything, and you could just say a word and he’ll get you the most expensive option of that word. Want a bag? Have one made with leather so expensive and rare, that this one is the only one in existence. Want a necklace? Have a jewelry store full of them with jewels so big, heavy and expensive they weigh a pound each! Want a new wardrobe. Et cetera, et cetera. 

Though you might learn about the fact he wants to have you fitted for some special jewelry for your wrists and ankles, but they’re solid gold and encrusted with rubies! That’s good enough for you, right?

Gift Preference - Anything and Everything. Just ask. Or don’t. Either way, He will still give it to you.

Vil Schoenheit

Oh, you’re high maintenance, so is he, so you’ll get along just fine.

You can’t tell me Vil doesn’t touch anything that could sully or damage the perfection he’s spent years cultivating. You want to be high-maintenance, perfect, that's his entire lifestyle. 

So, if you want to be spoiled. Fine, he knows exactly who to call and they’ll drop everything as soon as he calls them. You want to get your hair done, he has a hairstylist on speed dial that can turn straw-like hair into silk. You want a massage, he knows a very exclusive place that can make every limb of your body feel like a soft putty. You want designer clothes, all it takes is a phone call and you’ll be measured and fitted by the designers themselves. 

He might make a date out of all this with you, accompanying you on all these wonderful excursions. 

Gift Preference - High fashion and self-care. All his gifts make you all the more perfect. 

Neige LeBlanche

You like to buy expensive things?....Is 150,000 thaumarks a month okay or…?

Neige doesn’t notice the fact you’re probably only with him for his money. He doesn’t mind if he does because he doesn’t care. You like nice expensive things, he’ll make sure you can get those nice things. He’ll send you enough money to make sure you can keep up with your tastes without issue. If the money he sends isn’t enough he’ll double it, triple it even, all for you.

Just remember that if he ever ‘slips’ that you’re only really affectionate when he’s giving you something, you’ll be in some hot water. 

Gift Preference - While I personally believe that Neige prefers to make homemade gifts for you, you being high maintenance means that he’ll give you those alongside the hundreds of thousands of thaumarks for your allowance.

Idia Shroud

You just want him because he’s buying you stuff. That’s pretty shallow. Yes, he’ll still buy them for you.

Idia’s a little self aware that you would be bought solely on what the expensive luxuries he gives you. And is he going to be mad about that? No. If it keeps you close, it keeps you close so take what he can give. If anything’s wrong tell him so he can buy something better. He knows that you’re just here with him because he’s giving you stuff, but he’ll combust without your attention. 

Gift Preference - Tech-based gifts, top of the line and exclusive consoles and electronics. It’s his specialty and he can hide cameras in them to watch you when you’re away.

Malleus Draconia

You enjoy being surrounded by wealth and luxury? Then he’ll bury you in a mountain of it, you deserve all of it.

Malleus is so devoted to you, so no price is too great. To him, as the prized jewel of his hoard you deserve so much. So much he can’t even give you so he’ll give you as much as you’d like. All you have to do is ask, and if he can’t figure out how to get it, he’ll go to Lilia to ask for help on how to get it. 

In exchange he asks for nothing. All he wants is to bask in your radiance. But much like all the priceless treasures he’s given you, you are precious. And precious things need to be protected lest they be stolen. And he won’t allow you to be stolen. 

Gift Preference - Jewels, not just in jewelry, he’ll give them to you raw and polished and all of them are bigger and heavier than the last. Have a favorite gemstone? He’ll give you a mountain of those. Nothing’s too much for you. 

*                        *                        *                        *

Also about Lilia….. (did I make him a boy mom? I feel like I did)

Lilia is aware that your high maintenance behavior is exploiting the love your suitors have for you. But if that’s the price to buy your willingness, he’ll keep quiet. If you’re not being difficult in response, then he’ll keep out of it. 

But if you’re being a demanding little princess, denying them while they spoil you, then that behavior is getting beaten out of you.

Turns out the fae super hate greed. So even if Lilia doesn’t like it he’ll put up with it for the greater good, but if you plan on being difficult then you’ll be taught a wonderful lesson on selflessness. The Fae way. And that’s the least painless way. He’ll only let up on you, if one of his boys comes to him about him being too hard on you. 

*                        *                        *                        *

[sturnina]

🕷 — "fuck the feds"

Spiderman!Chris x Delinquent!reader AU Part two to Spray Cans and Web Shooters

— summary;; Chris regrets overreacting (that's legit it, I'd planned a lot more but it just doesn't work, and I need to post this now since I'm referencing it in the next oneshot lol)

— wc;; 744

— trigger warning;; none! (yet)

— author‘s note;; IMPORTANT!! I'm making this a blurb / oneshot collection. Most of the parts can be read individually, except when a specific part one is linked at the top :)

Chris knows the web fluid will dissolve in not even an hour, and get weak enough to be removed in about half an hour. But what he did was stupid, so stupid. What if the police decide to go check the building just that minute? Or what if literally anyone else arrives while she’s there stuck to the wall?

Guilt is nagging at him from the insides, making his stomach twist while he lands on a transmission tower. God, he can‘t do anything right today, can he? Especially after his brothers were especially rude and annoying all day, he was so excited for some alone time.

But before he can decide to turn around or run away, a motorbike nears the railway station. He drops a little lower on the tower, hiding between the cables, and watching the biker stop a bit further away than the girl’s bike is, hiding the motorbike from anyone travelling the road.

From here, Chris can barely see the biker‘s silhouette as they walk over to the fence, a small bag slung over their shoulder, and dive through the hole in the fence, entering the area of the station. It isn‘t recognisable whether it‘s a guy or a girl, but Chris follows them anyway, swinging back to the roof of the station.

The second the other person enters, he hears talking, which calms him down. Well — to be quite honest, he maybe wished he could save the girl inside. Just a bit. To make up for sticking her arm to the wall. He hates the thought that she might dislike him now.

Knowing that she‘s safe, there‘s nothing left to do for him, except for driving himself mad by overthinking everything and everyone. What is wrong with him?

Chris returns to the railway station the next evening—this time, after finishing his patrol, in the middle of the night. His first thoughts when he looks inside are, Well. At least the girl wasn’t too traumatised after yesterday.

How does he know?

There is a huge new graffiti on the wall, painted in red, black and white. His Spiderman mask, with a sentence in fat lettering across it. “fuck the feds,” it says, and, despite the meaning, Chris has to admit, it doesn’t look all that bad. Pretty good, actually. The web pattern on the mask is accurate, and the letters are woven into it, but the elements don’t blur, even though it’s all just red, black and white. It looks trippy, almost.

He admires it for a while before remembering that he should be offended. But on the other hand, he deserves it.

“Turned out pretty accurate, didn’t it?” a voice behind him asks. Chris turns around, still hanging on the thread. He isn’t startled, his spider sense having warned him way before he heard the girl.

“It’s pretty fire,” he admits.

She’s wearing the piece of fabric again, just about covering her lower face. The rest of her clothes are casual. Unrecognisable.

“What’s up with the mask?” he asks, elegantly dropping to the ground. Her eyebrow quirks up, and she crosses her arms in front of the black hoodie.

“You cover up your face too,” she points out the obvious, “am I not allowed to?”

“Fair enough.” Not wanting to stand around awkwardly, he uses his webs to swing over to the wall, until he’s walking on it as if it were the floor. “You did this?”

“With help,” the girl admits, “but yeah. Was my idea.”

“I wonder where you got it from,” he hums, crouching down on the wall and running a finger over the dry paint.

“I don’t know, totally not because I spent an hour taped to the wall because of the city’s hero.” The way you say it sounds like you’re putting it in quotes. Chris sighs at that.

“Yep. Sorry ‘bout that. I had a bad day.”

“That’s the explanation? You know, fun fact, chaining people to a wall and forcing them to stand up for days was a torture method in the Middle Ages.”

He raises his upper body, leaning against the wall. “Okay, I get it. But I’m not a Federal, so the text is wrong.”

“Oh yeah, I‘m sorry,” the girl says sourly, brows furrowing. “The independent hero who always does what he thinks is right. A bit stereotypical, dont’cha think?”

Chris sighs. He’s getting nowhere like this, the girl is too stubborn. Why does he even care about making things right with her?

— tags;; @fallininlust @bluestriips @wh0remikasas @ilusa @izzylovesthetriplets (tell me if you want to be tagged <3)

[sweetkpopmusings]

dokyeom best friend headcanons <3

a/n: back at it again (finally) with best friend seventeen !!! one day i will finish all of these hcs and the boyfriend ones too.....until that day, please enjoy hundreds of words that represent my love for sweet dokyeom!!!

content: fluff | wc: 0.9k | warnings: none! | pairing: bestfriend!dokyeom x gn!reader | requests:open

dokyeom is sunshine personified which means he is literally the best friend anyone can ask for

like hello ??? a happiness virus by your side at all times ??? an angel being just a quick text or phone call away ??? a dream come true if you ask me 

he is a very sweet, casual best friend

he is so thoughtful, and he’s always checking up on you

but it’s not through grand gestures or cinematic speeches

he will text you during the day to see how you’re doing, remind you to drink water, or even ask about your chores (and if he can come over and “help” aka distract you lol)

dokyeom just cares so much about you :-( like you’re his BESTIE and he refuses to accept you having anything other than a perfect day every day

which means he is the absolute best source of comfort

he will always be a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear

and he comforts you in the ways that you respond to best

want advice? he’ll stay up for hours talking through all the possible solutions with you. want to vent? he will listen intently and validate every single feeling you have. want to forget about the world for a while? he’s taking you out to do your favorite activities or staying in with you and binging your favorite content to escape from the stresses of reality

dokyeom isn’t afraid to ask how he can support you best either like he’s always working to be the best friend he can be

and he is HONORED every time you support him

sweet baby actually cries whenever you’re there for him like he is so so grateful 

he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have an amazing person like you as his closest friend

usually while you’re comforting him he’ll thank you profusely, cry, laugh at the fact he’s crying over how much he loves you YET again, and smile like everything is fixed

everything IS fixed when you’re by his side actually <333 dokyeom tells you this constantly and he means it.

okay back to him being literal sunshine because im getting emotional lolol

dokyeom laughs at EVERY. SINGLE. JOKE. YOU. MAKE.

like even if it's not that funny, he finds you trying to be funny so hilarious that he's giving you no less than a hearty chuckle for every joke or joke-adjacent thing you say

if you say something particularly funny, he is throwing himself onto the nearest surface (which could very well be you, if you're standing/sitting near each other) and cackling while smacking his hand down repeatedly because he just can't take The Comedy

deadass you're his favorite comedian 

and he LOVES to do bits with you!!!

y'all have a whole repertoire to pull out at any moment that calls for it or whenever you're in the mood

lowkey hoshi gets jealous but it’s fine because you and dokyeom let him in on the bits sometimes 

obviously he is THRILLED any time you laugh at one of his jokes

which is constantly because hello ?? he is a strange and silly boy like you are entertained 25/8

sometimes you two have to ditch your plans entirely because you get so caught up in joking around with each other you lose track of time

these are dokyeom’s favorite hangouts <33 he LOVES being in your own world together :,,,-)

lowkey he gets jealous if you spend a lot of time with any of his members

it’s not super serious, but he definitely pouts

that’s MY y/n !!! they’re MY best friend !!! not YOURS !!!

it’s so endearing because he’s like a little kid who doesn’t want his friend playing with anyone else on the playground

he becomes the most excited puppy when you pay attention to him again though

the members tease him for this behavior but he just reminds them they don’t get it because you’re not their best friend >:-)

talk about a hype man

dokyeom is 1384302094503% dedicated to making you feel confident

he thinks you are incredible inside and out and he will not accept it if you don’t agree

whether he needs to buy you an entirely new wardrobe or script a full presentation on why you are the best person ever, dokyeom is Locked In on the loving y/n agenda 

your reputation absolutely precedes you whenever you meet someone from dokyeom’s life

they know all about you and are immediately obsessed with you because of everything dokyeom has told them

dokyeom will be by your side, smiling brightly, relishing in how much they already love you

he’ll even suggest stories for you to tell when you’re having conversations in a group because he knows how to highlight your best moments

honestly he would totally have a stan account for you and make “y/n funniest moments” compilations and things of that nature

he’s your #1 fangirl and he takes that role VERY seriously

why ?? because one of the proudest achievements in dokyeom’s life is being your best friend :,-) <333333

UGH i love dokyeom so much he is the sweetest boy ever and i need to look at pictures of his beautiful smile and cry because i’m so grateful to be in the world at the same time as him <3333

dokyeom if you’re taking applications for additional friends please let me know i’m eager to take advantage of this exciting opportunity

[gatorbites-imagines]

Urggg I’ve been submitting this ask to multiple blogs for ages with different characters lol. How about the reader faking an orgasm with superboy or green lantern. Is it weird that I find how writers handle that prompt interesting? And when they take the route of the characters telling them to cut that shit out and doubling their efforts it makes me laugh.

Hal Jordan and Conner Kent/Kon-el

Headcanons

Since you didn’t specify which Green Lantern, I chose Hal since I love him very much. Individual headcanons for each won’t be as long as usual, since I wanted to write both.

couldnt find a good gif related to these too, so,,,

Hal Jordan

I think it depends on your guy’s relationship. If you two are a couple who’s been together for a while, Hal would notice one way or another. As a green lantern, Hal has gotten pretty damn good at reading body language, so he clocks you faking after a while.

I can see him huffing and sighing, not out of anger or anything, mainly just for show, before he hikes you into his lap or closer to him as he makes some comment about him not doing it good enough.

Hal would take it as a challenge, as long as you are into it of course. Don’t think you get out of talking about it, because you will. It becomes a bit annoying as pillow talk, but Hal wants feedback and wants to know how you’re doing.

He might even pull this in the middle of doing it, like making you look in his eyes to make you confirm that you’re good. When he gets the confirmation though, Hal doesn’t hold back. Since you felt the need to fake it, Hal feels the need to wring as many out of you as possible, just as payback, or so he says.

It’s no shocker that he’s great with his hands, and that the ring joins the fray at some point. Its just always so fun to catch you off guard with one of his projections, only to make you arch your back and moan about it five seconds after.

It ends up being a bit of an ego boost for Hal, but what else is new.

Conner Kent

I feel like Conner would clock it immediately. Having super senses gives him that advantage. Like hearing your heart does not stutter the same way as it normally does when you orgasm, or that he can’t immediately pick up the scent of your spend.

Depending on how far you guys are in your relationship, Conner would stop and ask. If it’s the very beginning of you two dating, he might not say anything, instead internalizing it and telling himself to try harder next time.

But if you guys are comfortable, Conner would just stop thrusting and look at you before asking if it doesn’t feel good and if you’re not up for it.

Conner would feel so bad if you felt like you had to sleep with him, which is why he asks and needs to know. And he’s always liked performing to the best of his abilities, so if he’s doing something you don’t like, he wants to know that too.

If its just one of those situations where you just… cant finish, then he wont feel bad about it either, though there’s a big chance he won’t want to keep going. Most of the fun is that you feel good, so you not enjoying it as much as he is takes the wind out his sails.

If its something he’s doing wrong, like not hitting the right place or grabbing you too tight, whatever, Conner will immediately take it as a challenge to make you see stars one way or another. His secret, not so secret weapon, is giving head, since he has no gag reflex, a very flexible tongue, and can hold his breath for probably hours if he wanted too.

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 8

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9 - Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI!! female masturbation, lots of angst, loss of parents mentioned, family issues, lots of tears

Summary: You prepare for Thanksgiving with Tommy and he catches you at an emotional point. Thats what friends are for, right? (1.2k+)

a/n: ok idk how this is gonna go over with yall but be gentle because this came to me in a dream, and through validation from @smellslikenevermore. i really dont have much else to say bc this shit is about to get juicy so buckle the fuck up. leave feedback, i rely on strangers validation because im not normal. xoxox

p.s. there will be another chapter posted at some point today, i just didnt want this one to be like 4k words lol.

Your phone rings, jolting you awake. You spit out a groggy “Hello?”. “Hey pretty lady” soft and southern, it warms you like a physical embrace. “Tommy. It is so early.” you say, rolling over and looking at the clock. “I know but I’ve gotta run to the store to grab some stuff for tomorrow, and wanted to beat the crowds. I was gonna see if you wanted to tag along.” You sigh, throwing the blankets off. “Sarah’s gonna come too if that makes it any more enticing.” he says, laughing.  “Yeah why not, give me about 20 minutes and I’ll be over.” 

You open your curtains, just like you do at the begining of every day. Joel’s are still closed, and have been for weeks now. You remember the first night you moved in and how both of your windows were the focal point of the evening. You walk into your bathroom and turn the shower on, extra hot. The steam filling the room makes you sweat, reminding you of your nights with Joel. Sweaty and suffocating. You strip down and walk to your bedside table, pulling out your vibrator. The numbing vibration on your clit makes you cum almost immediately, and the only noise heard is Joel’s name. Over and over. You cant seem to stop yourself, the relief each time better than the last. Imagining the way his fingers fit perfectly inside you, how his teeth left every inch of your skin nipped with passion, how his voice talked you through every step. Time has stopped and the shower is no longer steaming into your room. Your release on the horizon, you’re seeing stars and imagining every position Joel could put you in- KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. And its gone. As quickly as it came, its gone. You throw your toy in frustration, and throw a robe on. You make your way to the door, opening it to see Tommy and Sarah. “Woah lady!” Tommy says, shielding his eyes. “You said 20 minutes 30 minutes ago, what the hell have you been doin? I tried to call!” he says, making Sarah laugh. “Just wait on the couch. Ill be out in 10.” You say, closing the door behind them and walking to your room. You dont remember hearing your phone ring but then again, you were on a different planet, and time was non-existent. 

Piled into Tommys truck, the 3 of you head to H-E-B. “Alright, I’ve gotta get some beer, some celery, and some bread for the stuffing.” You throw your head in Tommys direction, with a look of playful disgust. “Tommy Miller, how is it the day before Thanksgiving and you dont have the main ingredient for stuffing?” you retort, giving him a light slap on the arm. “Listen, I don’t do the shoppin, blame my brother.” he says. You turn around, looking at Sarah. “And what did you forget?” you say smiling. “I wanted to make chocolate covered strawberries so chocolate and strawberries!” She says excitedly. “That sounds good Sarah! Let me know if you need any help.”  You write 2 lists, handing one to Tommy and keeping one for yourself. He’s in charge of beer and non-perishables. You’re in charge of perishables and wine.

In the store you both grab carts, and go in your separate directions. You grab Sarahs strawberries, Tommys celery, and sweet potatoes for yourself. If theres on thing you can cook, its a mean sweet potato casserole. You head to the alcohol aisle and meet up with Tommy, checking off both your lists. You grab 4 bottles of wine, 2 reds and 2 whites. “Does Joel even know Im coming?” you ask Tommy, watching Sarah grab marshmallows off the endcap a few feet in front of you. “Yeah, I told him.” Tommy says, not saying anything else. You’re trying to gauge his facial expression surrounding the question. “What did he-” “I got the marshmallows!” Sarah says, throwing them into the cart. You leave your sentence unfinished, checking off the rest of the list. 

The ride back is silent, Tommy keeps looking at you like he has something to say but he doesnt. You try not to think about tomorrow, unsure of if being alone is worse than being around Joel. Tears begin to well in your eyes right as you turn onto your street. You force them to stay put, helping Tommy unload the groceries. You help carry everything in with the exception of your things for tomorrow. Walking into the house, you’re immediately paralyzed by the smell, by his  smell. Sarah runs past you, into his arms. “Hi daddy! We went to the store and we got the stuff for my strawberries!” “Thats great babygirl.” he says, kissing her forehead. The tears are back, and theres no forcing them away this time. Your brain is flooded with images of childhood holidays with your family, back when everything was seemingly normal and everyone got along. You feel a tear fall down your cheek as you set the groceries on the island. The same island that he ravaged you on. You look up at him, hoping for any hint of how hes feeling, hoping he’ll pull you into him and wipe your tears, and tell you that everything is okay. But his facial expression is stoic, and he doesn’t move. No sign of any emotion. You wipe your tears and head straight for the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” you exclaim, trying to hide the pain in your voice. Pulling the door behind you before anything else is said. 

You grab your groceries out of the back of Tommys truck and trudge home. You fucking hate the holidays, they havent been the same in years. You turn the key to open your door, and feel a hand on your shoulder. “Sweet girl, whats goin’ on?” and you lose it. 

You drop the groceries and throw yourself into Tommys arms, sobbing uncontrollably. You hear the glass of the wine bottles shatter. “Shhhhh” he says, one hand holding your head, the other rubbing your back. After a couple minutes, you gather yourself and walk inside, leaving the broken glass on your porch and the groceries on the floor inside the door. 

“The holidays are just hard Tommy.” you say, sniffling. Hes in your kitchen putting groceries away. “Trust me, I know. I aint had a mama or daddy to spend the holidays with the last 10 years. And then Connie and Sarah came along, and then Connie left.” You dont say anything, but assume Connie is Sarahs mom. This is the first time either of the men have spoke about her, at least in front of you. You elaborate on your family as well. About how your father in convinced that your ex was the second coming of Christ, and was the best thing that had ever happened to you. About how it was his way or the highway. About his patriarchal ways in the goddamn 21st century. He sits beside you and just holds you again. Your tears slowly stop, but the feeling of sadness and emptiness still resides. You look up at Tommy and hes staring through you. His eyes a deep brown like his brothers, and before you know it his lips are on yours. And you dont pull away.

[sailforvalinor]

Ten and his companions, a summary:

Random person of the episode: "Where did you and your girlfriend come from?"

Ten: "Oh, no, no no no, she's not my girlfriend."

Martha: *disgruntled Martha noises*

Random person of the episode: "So if you and your girlfriend--"

Ten: "--wE aRe nOt DaTiNg--"

Donna: "--I WOULD RATHER KISS A LLAMA."

Ten: "Hey, that's a bit harsh."

Donna: "Sorry."

Random person of the episode: "Could you and your girlfriend give us a hand?"

Ten: 😊😊😊😊

Rose: 😊😊😊😊

Random person of the episode:

Random person of the episode: "Uh. Hello?"

Ten: "Right, sorry, um--"

[krash-and-co]

can i just mention here, it is not show fan vs book fan, at least from me? i know a large amount of my followers came from the show and i absolutely love yall. it was never meant to be anyone against anyone, and i sincerely apologize if that happened. (well, it has, im seeing it, and it makes me absolutely sick.) i don’t know how it turned into this. i do not hate ANYONE for coming from the show. period. i don’t even know where that came from. i can’t stress enough how much i love you guys.

i dont hate any of yall, i don’t want yall to hate everyone either. everything has blown so out of control and we’ve been very misunderstood; im not going to try and explain my claim again here as that is not the purpose of this post, but we’ve been very misunderstood and that led to more misunderstanding and it’s one big spiral of pure hate that we had absolutely zero intentions of starting. i did not post online to say ‘i hate you.’ i did not message on discord to say ‘i hate you.’ because i don’t. and i never meant for you guys to think that, and if you do, im sorry.

[apathyfairy]

i always said that once i stop caring what other people think about me it’s over for you bitches and it’s finally happened i’m literally untouchable