#felt like i extremely Understood it in that moment

[punkwixes]

also. lmao. sometimes these people just act like you CAN’T make ~meaningful memories~ with an ebook. like, you’re only reading ebooks at your desk in your bedroom at 11:30pm or whatever

and it’s like. sorry! i have really nice memories with my ebooks actually!

i LOVE being able to take my books with me on my phone. when i started working at my last job, five years ago, we had JUST enough downtime we were allowed to read if all the cleaning was done, so people would bring books to work, and it was like. when we had a free minute they would have to trudge over to their tiny mailboxes where they’d have wedged a book into the slot, if they were lucky, because there was no other storage space. and then find somewhere to sit and read it for 5-10 minutes.

but meanwhile i wasn’t allowed to read the books i had on my phone, but also at the time i literally didn’t have like, a backpack/bag to carry a physical book in as i rode the bus lmao. it was fine, i didn’t super mind, i just wound up doing extra tasks because the managers would get snotty about me Being On That Damn Phone as if i did not have an ebook on there.

anyways when i worked in the assisted living building i was the only person from my department down there, so i could use my phone as much as i wanted! my most Vivid memory of anything from fall 2021 is that i read harrow the ninth in bits and pieces while i was working, which was perhaps not the ideal way to read it. or maybe it was, i don’t know! i know that i enjoyed the experience as like, bits and pieces of chapters parsed between making coffee or whatever.

it took me over a month, which is a LONG time for me to read a book, it was just like — it was my Work Book. i associated going to work so strongly with getting to read more of ht9 lmao.

anyways i finished the book (minus the epilogue) on this like… really Nice fall day. the sky was cloudy & a storm was coming in but it was still like mildly warm/breezy out so they’d opened the back doors to the dining room. and i had all my work done so i just sat on the back porch and read as the clouds got darker & the wind got stronger until it started raining & i realized that i almost fucked up and missed dinner prep.

like! that’s the kind of memory i couldn’t have made without ebooks lmao… even if i had lugged a book to work & had somewhere to store it, i was only able to sit out there and read because at Any second i could get up, pocket my phone, and get to work if smth came up!

[thecoolerbrother]

i think something moonage daydream was really good at doing was capturing a vibe

[franeridan]

I understand why everyone who read dunmeshi instantly shipped marci and falin but tbh the fact that it's just treated as canon by the fandom cuts on a lot of interesting analysis that could be done on their relationship outside of the romantic reading, which is kind of a shame

[platinum-horizons]

4

edit: 4 was NOT supposed to be there i dont know how it happened

Like I know we all love making ADHD seem cool but like, don't forget it's actually a disability? My ADHD is bad enough I've nearly been evicted for forgetting to mail the rent check to the property manager, I've forgotten to pay the utility bills and had my water or power get turned off or had to pay fines bcs I missed a credit card payment. Once I was supposed to cat sit for a friend and I lost the house key she gave me but didn't realize until she was already out of town, and she had to call the apartment office to get someone to give me the spare so her cats would have food for the week. When I'm unmedicated I can't even get myself to shower half the time, forget eating or cleaning. Before I started living with my fiance I'd just like, not eat for days because I didn't have anyone to remind me to eat or go buy me food. I've forgotten to turn the stove off so many times and ruined kettles and tbh been DAMN fucking lucky the house didn't burn down. I've done stupid, impulsive shit that's nearly gotten me KILLED. I can't remember to close the shower curtain reliably even through my fiance points out every single time I forget, and he's almost out of soap rn bcs for the last MONTH neither of us have been able to remember to order more once we get out of the shower.

I've had such bad memory my entire life that to this day someone suggesting I forgot something because I simply didn't care enough is a legitimate trigger that, in the worst cases, makes me have a breakdown.

I get that for some of you this is just something that makes studying hard or you forget to take a pee break when you're playing Minecraft or whatever, that's still a valid struggle and you do deserve help and understanding, but like, ADHD is a disability. It's disabling. It's not impossible to improve and learn coping skills, meds help a lot, there are great accommodations out there(LIKE CLEANING SERVICES), but not every case of ADHD is the same, and a lot of them are pretty ugly ngl, and just because you managed to do something doesn't mean someone else is gonna be able to manage it too, or that they're being lazy for struggling. And that obviously doesn't mean ADHD people have a free pass to never work on themselves and make everyone cater to their every need or whatever, but we do deserve some understanding when we explain that our disability is actually disabling in ways that aren't palatable to you. So like, idk, maybe don't immediately recoil in horror when you find out that someone with ADHD can't keep their house clean. And for fucks sake don't ridicule them for it.

[unceeled]

gojo satoru has you all covered. they were not joking when they said that this man would serve and protect because not a single thing touches you, ever. and gojo satoru is proud of that, that's what he's good at: being your personal shield.

and yet, even if he were to extend his infinity to you at every hour of the day, the one thing gojo satoru could not protect you from is getting sick.

then and there, the strongest one forgets how to act. this was not something he could fight off, something he could exorcise. no. but he felt helpless watching you squirm and curl up into a ball, sneezing and coughing on your bed.

he'd do everything in his power to take care of you, of course. but it was fidgety, at best. he never got sick growing up; he wasn't aware of the procedures of this all. so... he googled.

what else was he meant to do? you refused to eat, you were coughing up something, you were shivering, your temperature extremely high, and more things he truly did not want to think that you were going through. still, it was those same things that found their way to the google search bar as gojo satoru looked desperately for anything that could make your shivering figure feel better.

comfort was the last thing he got from his trip to the internet, however. the text on his screen informed him of the demise you'd supposedly face at this rate. you were gonna get worse and he was gonna lose the light of his life... is how he understood the search result.

after spending the whole afternoon napping, you finally stir awake feeling a cool towel on your head and something dripping on your hand. you blink the sleep away for a few more moments, eyes finally focusing on the sniffling figure holding your hand.

"toru, what's going on?" you squeeze his hand back lightly. you hear an almost theatrical gasp matched with widened blue eyes and immediately become engulfed in big bulky arms.

"i thought i was gonna lose you." he sniffs, nuzzling his face in your neck. you're left puzzled but return the hug nonetheless. "what made you think that?" satoru pulls away and examines your face. "baby, it felt like you were dying on me," he exclaims, still cupping your face.

"toru, it was probably just the flu-" you are interrupted by a cough that erupts from your throat.

"see! this is what google said would happen!"

"google? satoru gojo, you consulted google? and that's why you were crying?"

"next time i'll just exorcise every germ in this world."

"if you say so, baby"

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒) 2

You woke up with a headache, feeling your head throb painfully. For a moment, you really thought you were in your real-life home until you looked up and saw the bed canopy, adorned with fine, luxurious fabrics. A typical bed of ancient nobility, you couldn't even sit up without your head pounding from the pain. Who would have thought that crying so much could make you feel this bad?

In pain, you turned, now looking out of the bed. For a moment, you began to notice that the furnishings in the room were more refined, even though they were of a different color. You started to think that this room wasn't, in fact, yours. Looking at the door, you noticed the luxurious details that accompanied it, making you realize that you were neither in your real-life bedroom nor in your noble bedroom in this world.

You started to think a lot, which made your head hurt even more. But you finally managed to understand what happened last night and how you agreed to go with the young man. Now, finally turning to look at the ceiling, you sighed, knowing you were probably not in extreme danger and that being kidnapped was off the list since you had agreed to the situation.

Placing your hands on your face, you thought about the situation at the ball, now considering how your family in this world would probably disown you. What initially seemed like a simple matter turned out to be much worse. In this world, being disowned didn't just mean being removed from the family's inheritance; it meant being officially regarded as not part of the family at all. It was as if they erased you not only from their will but also from their lives. In more extreme cases, it could even mean being expelled from the house.

"Are you alright? You were quite warm last night; you had a fever," said a familiar voice. Turning, you confirmed it was the same young man from yesterday.

Forcing your aching body, you managed to sit up in bed, placing a hand on your forehead as the dizziness from the headache set in. "Yes, it's nothing serious. I apologize for my manners," you said. It was evident that simply lying in a bed that wasn't yours while the host stood by was considered almost impolite in this world.

"Liar… please, miss, don't push yourself too hard. You still seem unwell," the young man said, his voice calm and concerned. If you could look now, you would see the care and worry in his eyes.

"I've been sick many times before," you found yourself thinking, almost mocking your own situation. The boy seemed to sense your sadness and silence. He raised his hand and gently placed it on your shoulder.

He had already felt he was violating your space by touching you the night before, but the pain of seeing your sick body had pushed that feeling aside. Now, with you safe, he felt he needed your permission, but he couldn't help trying to comfort you, the same person who seemed broken and exhausted when he brought you here.

"Forgive me… you went to the trouble of bringing me to your home because of my actions. This is not appropriate behavior for a girl like me. I apologize profusely for invading your residence like this," you said, lowering your hands to your lap and bowing your head in a formal gesture of apology, even while lying in bed.

Nomura noticed that you referred to yourself merely as a girl, not as a lady, which would have been more appropriate. He understood that what happened yesterday had deeply wounded you, so much so that you began to see yourself as inferior, no longer worthy of being called a lady.

His free hand clenched into a fist as he thought about the castle and the ball from last night. He knew who was responsible for this, and he couldn't help but feel anger. At that moment, all he wanted was to drive a sword through the heart of the crown prince, the first prince, and especially his former best friend.

"Please do not apologize, miss. The events of last night were not your fault, and bringing you to my residence was my decision. I had every right to do so, especially when I saw you in such a vulnerable state," he said in a sweet and gentle tone. You turned your head to look at him, observing those kind eyes that looked at you as they had last night. But just making that movement caused your head to throb again, and you placed a hand on your head, wincing in pain. This made him place his hands on your back, gently guiding you to lie down on the bed.

"Please, miss, you are not in the best condition. Lie down and rest. I will accept nothing but your rest," he insisted. With your eyes squeezed shut from the pain, you allowed yourself to lie back down, sighing as you felt his touch slowly fade away.

Nomura watched as you complied, stepping back slowly. He looked at you with sadness before leaving the room. As he walked down the corridor towards his office, he couldn't help but look at the floor, feeling nothing but anger. Calmly, he entered his office and closed the door behind him. His teeth clenched in fury, and only one thought filled his mind: "I want to kill him!" Finally, he sighed, running his hands through his hair before sitting in his chair and looking up at the ceiling.

"Even after countless times, or timelines, you remain the same Prince Luka."

"Miss? Your tea." An maid entered the room with a cart carrying a teapot and a white porcelain cup. She sat down on the bed, and you were beginning to feel a bit better. Before you could say anything, the maid delicately placed a tray on your lap and set the cup on it.

You pondered for a moment. You couldn't stay here forever, even if your parents had disowned you. Eventually, you would have to return home just to gather your belongings, assuming your country in this game had indeed expelled you. If so, you needed to plan where to stay, especially since the Diamond Wars were looming.

"But what stage of the game are we in now? I mean, why should I worry? She's the protagonist and a princess, not me. She can handle things on her own," you thought to yourself as you glanced down at your lap. Your head still ached, but it was less intense compared to when you first arrived at the lord's house.

"Miss?" the maid's voice called out, and you lifted your head to look at her. She was pointing to the cup of tea. "Your tea, if you don't drink it, it will get cold." You turned your head, picked up the cup, and murmured a thank you before taking a sip. Lowering the cup, you continued to stare down, then glanced back at your lap.

"If I may ask, do you know of a good area where there might be houses? Preferably in the countryside," you asked calmly, surprising the maid with the sudden question.

"With all due respect, ma'am, why do you ask?"

"I need to find a place before I'm kicked out of home all because the protagonist is a little princess with her harem on her side, not to mention they humiliated me and literally labeled me a liar in front of high-status people and people from other regions," you thought of saying, but bit your tongue and shook your head. "Forget about what I asked," you said, looking down at the empty cup in your hands.

A few minutes of silence passed before the maid carefully took the cup and bowed respectfully before leaving with the cart.

"It's what she said," the maid recounted the situation to the man in front of her, who could only look thoughtfully out the window. "Poor Lady," Nomura thought, watching from the window as the carriage took you back to your home.

"I apologize, my lord, but do you think Lady might be considering moving away?" The thought of you being away from him was making him nervous.

"I need you to deliver a letter for me…"

pt1

"I'll possibly do Part 3."

@aiimee9 @chlov @uhkaey @notleclerc @taylorazureeee @sassykitkat22 @zuumaa @mononlogue @party-9 @endaculi @heartless-tate @mel-vaz @poptrim @kitty-chan33 @surprisemodafakas @reni502 @slowlysweetnightmare @hotnbloodied @yandereoverlord @mel-star636 @aphrodit333 @hotvinimon  @cupidsgift @bien-bonjour14 @l0v3rrl @heraxochi @yamekocatt @lovorette @acenby-weirdo @kisalovesoobin @wutap @ron000 @lazydelusionsimp @kthehoeforfictionalmen @forbidden-sunlight @bubbles2416 @rosegracewood09 @b2mmyy

@julietdelamare @snowlotr @kitkatmochi @happydeertraveler @lem-hhn @crazytacokoala @mitzukichan18 @hey-im-bored504 @resident-cryptid @thefbiiswatching @beardedblizzardexpert @mymemd @smilefortae @emperatris-rinaka

@pinkrose1422

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

[eu-nicola]

Morocco part 2

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, weapons, cheating, pregnancy, kidnapping, etc. only things of s4

word counter: 8530

author's note: spoilers of s4, many things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

The heavy silence of the room enveloped you as you sat there, sitting on the bed, staring at your hands as if you could erase what had happened. He had killed someone. You still felt it on your skin, the tension of that moment, the fear, the adrenaline, and in the end, the inevitability of the action. You knew you had done it in self-defense, that there was no other option. The guy was going to kill you or someone else, and you didn’t let yourself let that happen. But still, the feeling of having taken a life crushed you. 

Rafe had stayed close, always by your side, as if he knew what you were feeling without you having to say it. He had been there, watching, but he hadn’t said anything about it. None of the Pogues had said anything. In a world where survival was the only thing that mattered, everyone knew that the lines between right and wrong could become blurred. It had been an extreme situation, and in the end, only the weight of what had been done remained. 

You laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling feeling like you were trapped in your own thoughts, in a tangle of doubts you couldn’t untangle. Rafe was beside you, silent, but his presence was comforting. His words hadn’t come yet, but that didn’t matter. You knew you didn’t need him to tell you anything; not at that moment. What you needed was to be there, with someone who wouldn’t judge you, who understood that sometimes decisions weren’t so simple. 

“You did it because you had to,” Rafe said, finally breaking the silence, his voice low, but firm. As if he had read your thoughts, as if he had felt everything that was going through your head. He approached you, placing a hand on your right hand, giving you the feeling that, despite everything you had done, you weren’t alone. “I know you didn’t want to, but there was no other way out.”

You looked at him, searching for something else in his eyes. A word, a comfort, a way to make the weight lighten, even if just a little. But as you looked at him, instead of finding judgment or disapproval, you found something unexpected: understanding. Rafe understood what had happened, even without having to explain it.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling a lump in your throat. “I did it because I had to. But I didn’t want to. I don’t want it to haunt me.”

He nodded, his gaze locked with yours. “Sometimes you don’t have a choice. And I know that if you had stopped, if you hadn’t, you’d be worse off now. But that doesn’t make you any less… human.”

The words weren’t what you expected to hear, but they carried a different weight. In that moment, you felt like maybe, just maybe, the guilt wasn’t so absolute.

You felt him close to you, and before you could react, he sat next to you on the bed, his arm around you with a comfort you hadn’t expected. There was something about the way he held you that made you relax, if only for a moment. “We’re the survivors, you know?” he said softly. “What we’ve done, what we’ve seen, what we’ve had to do to get here… all of that makes us who we are. And if you ever ask yourself the question of whether you did the right thing, I want you to remember that it was always about surviving.”

Your eyes filled with tears, not from weakness, but from the intensity of everything you felt. The weight of the decisions, the inevitability of the circumstances, and the fact that sometimes, the only thing left to do was to keep going, even if the burden was heavy.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, barely a whisper. You didn’t know what else to say.

The Pogues hadn’t weighed in, nor had you asked them to. They had seen what you did, they knew. The truth was that at that moment, no one dared to judge, because everyone knew that in those kinds of situations, life or death wasn’t always in your hands. You had done what was necessary, what instinct told you to do to protect yourself, but still, you couldn’t escape what had happened.

Rafe lay down beside you, his presence giving you the space to breathe, to rest, to not think so much about how irreversible it had been. “It’s done,” he said, unhurriedly, without pressure. “Now, all that’s left is to move on.”

Little by little, you felt the weight lighten, although it didn’t disappear completely.

After that, you had recovered quickly. The guilt, confusion, and restlessness you felt after what had happened slowly faded away. It wasn’t easy, but you knew you couldn’t stay stuck in that moment. Time was still ticking, and you had to move on. 

What really helped you recover so quickly was the conversation with your father. Even though things between you hadn’t always been easy, hearing his voice on the other end of the line gave you the calm you needed. You told him what had happened, what you had had to do to defend yourself. You didn’t go into all the details, but you did tell him the gist. The silence on the other end of the line lasted a few seconds before you heard his voice, firm and calm.

“I’m proud of you,” he told you, and those words resonated with you more than you imagined. “You did what you had to do. There are no regrets that are going to change what happened. You’re my daughter, and I will always be your biggest support.”

Something in his voice, in those simple yet powerful words, made you feel like everything you had done was, in some way, justified. You had done the right thing, even if it wasn’t easy to accept. What you needed most at that moment was his support, and hearing those words from him gave you the strength to let go of the guilt. You reminded yourself that you had acted in self-defense, that you had done it to survive. It helped you regain control of your thoughts, to not get caught up in what had happened.

“Thank you, Dad,” you said, the words coming out with a calmness you didn’t know you had. “I really needed to hear that.”

When you hung up, you felt different. You knew the weight of what had happened wouldn’t go away completely, but something inside you had changed. Your father’s approval, his pride in what you had done, gave you a push to keep going without looking back. You didn’t want to stay stuck in guilt.

When Rafe saw you calmer, more focused, he asked if everything was okay. “It seems like something has changed,” he said, watching intently.

“Yeah,” you answered, a small smile creeping onto your face. “My father talked to me, I feel… good. More at peace, I guess.”

Rafe looked at you for a moment before nodding, as if he understood what that meant to you. He didn’t say anything else, knowing you didn’t need any more words at that moment. Your father’s had been enough. Now, you could move on.

In one of those calls with your father, which Rafe knew nothing about, you learned something that left you paralyzed. Sofia had betrayed Rafe. The news hit you like a blow, every word from your father reverberating in your mind.

Your father, as always, recounted the events with a calm that only he could maintain. He didn't go into unnecessary details, but he made the essentials clear: Sofia had betrayed Rafe. This was more than just disloyalty; it was an act that put not only Rafe at risk, but you and everyone else's as well.

The knowledge hit you hard, a mix of fury and pain that you tried to hold back. You couldn't help but feel protective of Rafe, despite how complicated their relationship had been in the past and still was. Watching him go through another betrayal, especially one this deep, made you question whether you should tell him or keep quiet for a while longer.

You decided not to tell him. Sofia's betrayal was a bomb that could make him explode and you didn't need that now. That night, Rafe was sitting on the edge of the bed, his profile silhouetted against the dim light of the room. His eyes settled on you with a softness you didn't see often.

“Are you okay?” His voice broke the silence, direct but with a hint of concern that he rarely showed. “You’ve been tense all night.”

Your heart raced a little, but you tried to stay calm. You had rehearsed in your mind over and over how to evade his questions without raising suspicion. You gave him a tired smile, one that you hoped was convincing enough.

“I’m just tired,” you replied, and though it sounded almost believable, you noticed his blue eyes narrowed slightly, as if he were trying to read past your words. Rafe was observant, and the thought that he could tell the lie made your throat go dry.

There was a moment of tense silence, where neither of you said anything. Finally, he relaxed a little and stood up to approach you. “Let’s rest then,” he murmured, placing a gentle hand on your back and guiding you towards the bed. You let yourself be led, relieved that he didn’t press any further.

You kicked off your shoes and slipped under the sheets, feeling the coolness of the fabric against your tired skin. Rafe did the same, moving beside you with familiar movements. The bed, though not the most comfortable, was a refuge at the moment.

When he turned off the lamp, the room was plunged into darkness, and the sounds of the night in the Moroccan city remained as a soft backdrop. You felt his body close to yours, the warmth emanating from it comforting.

You turned slightly, turning your back to him as you tried to calm your breathing and quiet the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind. However, Rafe, in his silent and protective way, noticed your uneasiness and moved closer. His arm went around your waist and pulled you towards him, pressing your back against his chest. The contact, so natural and comforting, made your worries fade away for a moment. You felt his warm breath against your hair, and a barely audible whisper escaped his lips.

“Whatever you’re worried about, we’ll take care of it,” he murmured sleepily, as if the words were an involuntary reflection of his thoughts.

You closed your eyes and swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn't know how long you could keep the secret, but that night, at least, you decided to hold on to the feeling of being safe in his arms. You responded to the hug, settling in a little more and allowing yourself a moment of peace.

Slowly, tiredness overcame anxiety, and you both fell asleep.

It wasn’t long before the truth came out. Rafe was cunning, too cunning, and even though you had done your best to keep it a secret, the built-up tension and the little clues you missed had him starting to put two and two together.

It was one afternoon, as the two of you were going over some notes at a makeshift table, when everything exploded. Rafe was focused on the papers in front of him, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. There was something about his posture that made you feel a twinge of unease. Without looking up, he murmured, “Is there something you want to tell me?”

The seemingly casual question made you stop dead in your tracks. You knew he could read the subtleties, the changes in your behavior, and you understood in that instant that he already suspected something. You tried to keep your composure, keeping your expression from giving you away.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your tone trying to sound carefree, but the slight hesitation in your voice made him raise his head. His blue eyes caught you, cold and calculating, searching for answers.

“You know, right?” His voice was low, controlled, but charged with an intensity that made the room seem smaller. “About Sofia.”

The silence that followed was deafening. You didn’t need to answer; he already knew. The tension in his body turned into suppressed fury, and he slammed a fist on the table, causing papers to fly and some objects to fall to the floor.

“Since when?” he exclaimed, taking a step towards you. There was no physical aggression in his gesture, but the energy he emanated was enough to make you back off. “Since when did you know and decide not to tell me?”

“Rafe, I… I did it for you.” The words came out in a rush, clumsy and full of guilt. “I didn’t want to ruin what little you had. I thought it wasn’t the time…”

“The time?” His laugh was dry, humorless. “All this time I’ve been struggling, trusting someone who betrayed me, and you knew it! What kind of support is that?”

The hurt in his words was evident. You knew his trust, something so fragile and complicated, had been shattered once again, and this time, you were part of the reason. You tried to get closer, reach out to touch his arm, but he pulled away, as if your touch burned.

“Rafe, it wasn’t easy for me. I wanted to protect you.”

“You don’t need to protect me. I need you to be honest with me. I need you to tell me if you know something that affects me. How am I supposed to trust you now?”

The question cut through you like a blade. The pain in his voice, mixed with rage and disappointment, left you speechless. There was no justification enough to calm him down. All you could do was watch as the distance between you grew larger, deeper.

Finally, Rafe stepped back, putting a hand to his head and sighing in frustration. “This isn’t going to work,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. He looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher, and before you could stop him, he turned and walked out the door. 

You knew Rafe better than anyone. You knew that when things got tough, he tended to walk away, to hide from everyone. You set off, visiting several places. But in all those places, the answer was the same: nothing. 

The heat of Morocco stifled you, sweat running down your forehead, and anxiety made the air feel thicker. Still, you didn’t stop. You asked around in shops and at street vendors, and though a few curious glances and vague answers tried to calm your search, nothing was enough. 

You decided to go check on the boys. If anyone might know something, they would have at least a lead. When you arrived, you found them gathered in a corner of a coffee shop with the windows fogged up from the heat. The atmosphere of the room, normally filled with humor, felt different when you entered. John B was the first to notice you, and his expression hardened at the sight of your countenance.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows furrowed in concern.

“Have you seen Rafe?” The question came out in a tone you couldn’t soften. Your voice, cracked with urgency, had everyone exchanging quick glances.

Sarah, who was sitting next to Kiara, looked away, uncomfortable with the subject. “No, I haven’t seen him since… since yesterday,” she admitted, her voice barely a murmur.

Pope, who had been quiet, nodded. “No one’s seen him. I thought he was with you.”

There was no sign of him, not a trace, not a word. You left the café before anyone could say anything else, frustration and worry fighting for control of your thoughts.

You were so focused on finding Rafe that concern for your own safety took a backseat. The city, with its narrow streets and maze of passages, had become a space where every shadow seemed to lengthen, and every sound multiplied into echoes. But you were so absorbed in your thoughts, so consumed by guilt and the need to find him, that you didn't notice what was happening around you.

The murmur of voices, the soft creaking of footsteps behind you, began so subtly that you barely noticed. The night was thick, the heat and sweat clinging to your skin, making you feel more tired than you were. As you walked down a dimly lit street, the streetlights cast your shadow against the walls of the buildings, a long, lonely silhouette.

It was only when you turned a corner into a darker alley that a cold sensation ran down your spine. A sixth sense warned you that something wasn't right. You paused for a moment, listening to the silence that seemed to breathe around you. You weren't alone. Confirmation came the instant you took a step back and felt a hand grab you tightly by the arm. 

You tried to get away, your first instinct was to fight, but you didn't have time to react. Another hand landed on your mouth, stifling the scream that choked in your throat. Three men surrounded you, their faces barely visible under the shadows of their hoods. One of them spoke to you in a low, threatening tone, in a language you barely recognized, but the message was clear: you weren't to resist. 

They pushed you forward, forcing you to walk as your senses went to full blast. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, making you tremble with rage and fear at the same time. You tried to observe, to memorize details, anything that might help you escape later: the tattoo on the neck of the man holding you, the smell of tobacco and sweat, the way they clenched their fists. But they were experts; there was no room for error.

The ride was short, but it felt like an eternity. Finally, they bundled you into a car, dark and dusty, and tied your hands with rough rope that bit into your skin. You felt the engine roar and the car jerk as it started, taking you away from familiar streets, away from any chance of help. You tried to stay calm, to control your breathing and not let fear paralyze you.

In the dim light of the car, one of the men spoke to the driver in a low tone, while another watched you closely, his piercing gaze searching for any sign of defiance. The city lights faded, and the landscape grew more arid, more lonely, with each passing mile. The idea that you were being taken to an unknown place, with no one knowing where you were, hit you with the force of a wave. 

What followed after that car ride was even more disconcerting. You were taken to an abandoned building, with weathered stone walls and broken windows that let in the dry night air. You were pushed inside, your feet stumbling over the threshold, and you fell to your knees on the dusty floor. You tried to get up, but one of the men's rough hands pushed you back down.

The space was large and dark, lit only by a dim light filtering in from a hanging lamp in the center. The men began talking to each other, their deep, rapid voices filling the room, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. The language barrier made you feel even more vulnerable, like you were in a tunnel you couldn’t get out of. You tried to catch some word you recognized, something that would give you a clue as to their intent, but it was in vain. Desperation began to set in, digging into your chest like a thorn. 

As they argued, you took a moment to assess your situation. The ropes binding your hands were strong, but if you could find a weak spot, maybe you could break free. You watched the men’s faces carefully, trying to remember details: the eye patch on one, the scar on another’s cheek, the golden ring glinting on the third’s finger. But they showed no sign of empathy or doubt. Their cold, calculating gazes were diverted from you as if you were just an object, a pawn in their unknown game.

Far away from there, Rafe had returned to the place where they both stayed. The air in the room still smelled of you, a persistent memory that he tried to ignore as he moved through the space with firm steps. The rage and pain from the previous fight still burned inside him, and he repeated over and over what he had said, what you had said. However, not seeing you when he arrived, a subtle echo of worry tried to make its way into his mind. He dismissed it at first, convinced that, like him, you had only gone for a walk.

Rafe let himself fall into bed, closing his eyes as the night progressed. Dawn arrived, and with it a restlessness that he could no longer ignore. When he got up, he noticed that your side of the bed was still empty. He searched the small house for you, checking the kitchen, the makeshift living room, even the terrace where you sometimes sat to think. Nothing.

The initial annoyance turned into a shadow of fear that led him to look for the others. He headed to the place where the Pogues usually met, and found them having breakfast with tired and sleepy faces. John B looked up and saw Rafe approaching, his eyes reflecting the surprise of seeing him there so early.

“Have you seen Y/n?” Rafe asked, without preamble. His tone was firm, but there was a crack of anxiety that he couldn’t hide.

The others’ gazes met for a second before Pope answered, frowning. “No, not since last night, when she came to ask us if we had seen you.”

Rafe’s heart beat faster. Worry became a tangible weight, and he felt guilt begin to sink into him. You had been looking for him, and he, blinded by his anger, had done nothing for you. He ran a hand through his hair, breathing deeply as he tried to remain calm.

“What happened, Rafe?” Sarah asked, her eyes searching his face for answers.

Rafe gritted his teeth, his jaw set with tension. “I don’t know… but I have to find her.”

Back at the place where they had you held, the men had begun to lose patience. One of them approached you, his gaze icy as he examined you from head to toe. You tried to remain calm, even as the man crouched down to your level and issued a threat in broken, rough English. His words were fragmented, but you understood enough to know he was trying to intimidate you.

“Don’t move. Don’t… scream,” he said, his accent thick. “If you do, it will be worse for you.”

You tried to keep a neutral expression, but you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking, still bound tightly behind you. You tried not to make eye contact, knowing that any show of fear could only make the situation worse. However, he seemed to be enjoying your discomfort, a crooked, cocky grin on his face.

Just when you thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, another man entered the room. There was something about his bearing, the way the others looked at him, that suggested he was in charge. His clothes were neater, his posture more relaxed, but his eyes held a coldness that made your skin crawl.

He approached slowly, and as he stopped in front of you, you noticed that he spoke much clearer and more fluent English.

“Forgive my men,” he said in a calm but firm voice. “They don’t usually deal with foreigners, especially not a woman who butts into matters that don’t concern her.”

You tried to compose your expression, looking at the man firmly, although inside you felt how each word of his intensified the weight of your situation.

“What… what do they want?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, but clear enough to show that you still had some control left.

He smiled, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “That’s up to you,” he replied, lacing their fingers together calmly. “We’re looking for something, and we think you might be able to help us find it… or at least lead us to the people who could.”

Your mind began to work quickly, trying to connect the pieces. You knew that your arrival in Morocco with Rafe and the search for the Blue Crown hadn’t gone unnoticed, but still, the speed with which you’d been found, threatened, and now interrogated caught you completely off guard.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to say, but your voice betrayed a slight hesitation, and he noticed it.

“Don’t play naive. We know what you’re looking for… we know what you want. So, I’m going to make it easy for you,” he said as he leaned a little closer, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made your skin crawl. “You give us what we want, or you’ll see how things can get worse.”

You felt a knot in your stomach, each second growing more terrifying. You knew your only option was to hold on and buy time.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the frantic drumming of your heart as the man in front of you watched you with unsettling patience. You tried to keep your composure and buy time, knowing that each passing second increased the chances of someone, somehow, finding out where you were.

“What they’re looking for isn’t so easy to find,” you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible. “Even we’ve had trouble following the right leads.”

The man cocked his head, evaluating your words. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to read between the lines. “We’ll see about that. I hope you have more to say when we speak again.”

As he retreated, leaving you alone for a moment, you tried to move subtly, searching for any hint that you could loosen the ropes holding you prisoner. Your wrists were sore, but you ignored the pain, focusing on the simple act of resisting.

Far away, Rafe was in a constant state of agitation. He had spent the morning searching for clues, moving quickly between contacts and temporary allies who might be able to offer him some information. Every second that passed without seeing you increased his worry, and though he tried not to let guilt take over, his mind kept replaying the moment he realized you had disappeared.

“Did you see her last night?” he asked for the umpteenth time to one of the contacts he had managed to track down. The man, a local merchant with connections in the underworld, shook his head, his eyes watching Rafe with measured interest.

“I heard there was some activity in the old part of town,” he finally answered after a pause. “Someone brought a girl, but I don’t know who they are or what they’re looking for.”

Rafe clenched his jaw, feeling a mix of frustration and renewed hope. It wasn’t enough information, but it was a start. With a quick “Thank you,” he walked away, his mind already calculating the next move, thinking about how to get to that part of town without raising suspicion.

Rafe didn’t stop until he found more answers. He had navigated through dark alleys, bustling markets, and bars where curious eyes followed his every move all day long. The night in Morocco brought with it a thick air, and Rafe knew how to play in that environment.

With a handful of bills and a steady gaze, he approached a group of men moving like shadows on a dimly lit corner. After a few words of exchange and the handing over of money, one of them, a young man with scars on his face, finally spoke.

“The girl was taken to a warehouse near the old part of town, where the houses are crowded together and the streets are like a maze,” he said, his accent thick. “I don’t know much else, but those who have her aren’t known for being kind.”

Rafe nodded, absorbing the information and processing it quickly. The gears in his mind were working tirelessly, calculating routes and strategies. He now knew who had taken you, and most importantly, where you were. Getting to you wouldn’t be easy, but for him, it would be a piece of cake compared to the idea of ​​losing you.

Rafe just nodded before turning away, already focused on what would come next. He knew he needed to act quickly and precisely. He imagined you in that moment, alone and scared, and the fire inside him grew more alive.

In your dark corner, the minutes passed with unbearable slowness. The distant sound of footsteps and murmurs kept you alert, your mind working on every possible way to resist and endure.

In the two days you were held, time became an endless torture. You were given nothing but a few drops of water, and hunger made you feel weak, almost ghostly. Your thoughts were intertwined between worry for your safety and the persistent question of whether Rafe and the others were looking for you. The blindfold kept you in constant darkness, increasing the fear and feeling of isolation. Every noise around you was a reminder that you were not alone, but neither were you in good hands.

The voices of your captors echoed through the space like menacing echoes, their words in a language you did not understand. You tried to stay conscious, clinging to hope and the idea that this would end soon, somehow. Your body was exhausted, every muscle shaking from the effort of staying alert, every breath weaker than the last.

As night fell on the third day, the air was filled with a distinct murmur, a whisper that slowly turned into screams and the rumble of combat. The sound of doors breaking, banging, and gunshots made you turn around in desperation, even with the blindfold tight over your eyes. Your breathing quickened, and a cold fear ran through your body.

Time seemed to stop as everything fell silent. You could hear the frantic beat of your heart as you waited, vulnerable and alone in the darkness. Suddenly, you felt firm, familiar hands on your shoulders, and the pressure of the blindfold loosened. The cloth fell from your eyes, and the light, though dim, made you squint. In front of you, Rafe looked at you with a mix of relief and desperation, his blue eyes shining brightly.

“Rafe...” you whispered, a weak smile forming on your lips. He wasted no time; He quickly untied your wrists, and before you could make any move, he lifted you into his arms, not asking if you had the strength to walk.

You looked around as he carried you out of the place, and your eyes landed on one of the men lying on the ground, motionless. Blood pooled around him, and the question left your mouth before you could stop it. “Did you kill him?”

Rafe didn’t stop looking at you as he answered, his voice low and full of a certainty that chilled your blood and made you feel safe at the same time. “I’ll do anything for you, do you understand?” His tone left no room for doubt, and although his words were harsh, something in them made you feel protected, as if, despite everything, you were safe in his arms.

The world began to spin around you, the strength finally leaving your body after days of suffering. The last image you saw was Rafe's face, a mix of determination and fear in his eyes, before darkness enveloped you and everything faded away.

Hours later, the first thing you felt was the soft rustle of the sheets. Your eyelids were heavy as if you had slept for days, but you finally managed to open your eyes and see the ceiling of an unfamiliar room, illuminated by the morning rays. Turning your head, you saw him: Rafe, sitting in a chair next to the bed, his face covered by a mixture of tiredness and relief. 

As soon as he noticed that you had woken up, his eyes lit up and he quickly stood up, approaching you. His fingers brushed your cheek, as if he wanted to make sure that you were really there, awake and alive. “I worried about you,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and sincere. There was something in his words that carried all the weight of the last few days, of anguish and guilt. 

The silence that followed was heavy, but you couldn’t help it. “Rafe, I’m sorry… about Sofia.” Your words were a whisper. His expression changed slightly, his eyes darkening momentarily before he shook his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” he replied, a slight smile trying to ease the tension. The seriousness faded a bit when, with a soft laugh, he added, “You need to take a bath. You seem… well, you’ve been through a lot.”

You let out a weak laugh, agreeing with him with a look. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been worse in my life.” Your body felt heavy, muscles still sore from the lack of food and water, but you knew you needed to get up. “Help me, please. I need to get to the water.”

Rafe nodded without hesitation and put an arm around your waist, helping you stand carefully. Your legs shook at first, but with his support, you managed to stay upright. He slowly carried you to the other side of the room, where a tub of hot, steaming water awaited.

“You can go if you want,” you whispered, not looking at him directly, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. But he shook his head, a lopsided smile appearing on his face.

“No, I’m staying,” he replied, and without adding anything else, he began to help you undress. His hands moved carefully, as if he were afraid of hurting you. When you finally submerged yourself in the water, a sigh escaped your lips as you felt the relief of the heat enveloping your battered body.

Rafe knelt at the edge of the tub and, with a damp cloth, began to gently run the water over your arms and shoulders. You couldn’t help but look at him, the attention and delicacy in his movements contrasting with the intensity of his gaze. Suddenly, he made a comment that made you smile, a joke about how no one would believe it if they knew he was taking care of someone this way. You laughed, even if it was weakly, and responded with something equally sarcastic.

His eyes met yours, more serious this time. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, not looking away. The air grew thick between you, and you felt the warmth of the water mix with the blush on your skin. “I told you once not to say it,” you said quietly, looking away.

“Why not?” he asked, and before you could answer, he took your hand, the same one he had been cleaning, and pulled you close to him, carefully encircling you. He leaned in and kissed you, a gesture that was gentle at first, almost a test, but soon became deeper, as if he wanted to make sure you felt what he felt.

You stood there, letting yourself be carried away by the warmth of his lips and the safety of his arms. For a moment, everything that had happened, all the hurts, faded away, leaving only the certainty that, in the midst of so much chaos, you had each other.

Once the bath was over and you felt clean for the first time in days, the tiredness seemed to fade a little, giving way to a sense of calm that you had almost forgotten existed. You put on a light white linen dress, which softly caressed your skin and made you feel freer and lighter. Rafe had left the room for a moment to give you space, but he returned shortly after, his eyes scanning your figure with a mix of concern and something deeper, something you recognized instantly. 

You settled on a chaise longue by the window, letting the soft evening breeze come in and caress your face. Rafe sat beside you, his presence comforting despite everything that had happened between you. For a moment, neither of you spoke; you simply stayed silent, sharing a breath of peace that you both needed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, breaking the calm with a low voice that was almost lost in the sound of the wind. There was a note of anxiety in his words, as if he feared the answer.

“Better,” you said with a soft smile, tilting your head towards him. “Thanks to you.” You didn’t add anything else, because you knew he understood everything those words meant. What he had done for you, what he had risked, was something you would never forget.

Rafe nodded, a shadow of a smile appearing on his lips before he reached out and gently caressed your cheek. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. His eyes were a sea of ​​conflicting emotions: relief, remorse, affection.

He laid down beside you, and without thinking too much, you rested your head on his shoulder, letting a sigh escape your lips.

The silence in the room stretched on for a while longer, only broken by the soft whisper of the wind. You stared at the shadows cast by the sunset on the walls, trying to process everything that had happened in the past few days. Finally, you broke the silence with a question that had been burning on your tongue since you woke up.

“What happened to the men?” His words were slow in coming, as if he was carefully choosing what he was going to tell you.

“I took care of them,” Rafe said, his voice deep and firm. There was no room for doubt in his tone, but no trace of remorse either. “Your father… helped make any problems they might represent disappear.” There was a glint in his eyes at the mention of it.

You nodded slowly, letting the information settle in your mind. You knew what it meant when your father got involved; there were no loose ends, no mistakes.

Rafe seemed to pick up on your silence and let the words trail off, not forcing the conversation.

Rafe took care of you in a way you hadn’t expected. He made sure that every meal arrived to you on time, insisting that you eat and drink enough to regain your strength. Although you sometimes gently argued that you could get up and help in the search, he always answered you with the same firmness: “Leave it to me. I promise you that everything will be fine.”

The determination in his eyes and the conviction in his voice were enough to make you believe him. So, for the first time in a long time, you decided to let yourself go and do what he asked of you. You ate every dish he brought you, even if the appetite was not always present, and little by little you began to notice how your body regained its lost strength. Now you needed to eat more than before.

Meanwhile, Rafe moved around the house and the town like a ghost, always searching, always planning. Although you knew that the situation was much more complicated than he told you, you believed him. His confident and protective gaze left no room for doubt.

Your mind, which had been stuck in a constant state of alert, finally allowed itself a respite.

That same night everything was quiet, with a starry sky stretching out over the outskirts where everyone had gathered. The lights of the lanterns hanging in the trees and the crackling of the campfire provided a comforting warmth amidst the cool of the night. It was rare to find a moment of peace, and everyone appreciated it in their own way, laughing and sharing stories around the fire.

You were sitting next to Rafe, your gaze lost in the dancing and crackling flames. The boys were talking amongst themselves; JJ was dramatically telling an anecdote about one of his recent escapades, causing Kie to laugh and throw him a twig in mockery. John B, who was a little further away, was watching Sarah with an expression of complicity and tenderness.

Sarah stood up and ran a hand through her hair, a mix of nervousness and determination. Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, you wondered what she was going to say. 

“Guys, there’s something I need to tell you,” she began, and immediately the attention was drawn to her. The conversation died down, leaving only the sound of sparks from the campfire and crickets in the distance. Kie and John B exchanged a look, knowing what was coming, while JJ and Pope seemed surprised by Sarah’s serious tone. 

“I’m pregnant,” she finally said, her voice barely shaking, but firm enough to be heard by everyone. There was a moment of complete silence, and then JJ let out a low whistle as a smile appeared on his face. Pope blinked a few times, processing the news, and then smiled widely. 

You stood up and walked over to Sarah. Although your relationship with her hadn’t always been easy, at that moment you only felt sincerity in your words. “Even though we never got along as well as we’d like, I’m happy for you,” you said, looking into her eyes. “You’re going to be a good mother, I know it.”

Sarah looked at you with a mix of surprise and suppressed excitement before nodding and giving you a small hug. “Thank you,” she whispered, her smile reflecting both gratitude and relief.

Rafe, who had been silently watching the scene from where he stood, merely smiled sideways and nodded slowly, in a sort of silent approval that Sarah immediately picked up on. Their eyes met, and in that gaze they shared an understanding that only siblings could have. Sarah seemed to understand him and smiled back, softer, more sincere.

The night continued with a different energy. JJ joked about how they were going to teach the baby to sail before he could walk, which caused general laughter. Kie offered to make her a small seashell pendant for when she was born, and Pope said he would teach her to solve puzzles and understand ancient maps.

Rafe came up to you and put his arm around your back. “This is going to be interesting,” he murmured, a barely perceptible smile on his lips. You smiled back, feeling the warmth of his touch.

Several hours had passed since Sarah’s announcement. The atmosphere was still light, with a calm that was rarely present among everyone. Laughter and stories continued as the flames of the fire slowly dwindled. You and Rafe, feeling the need to be alone, decided to retire before the others. Night enveloped the outskirts in a blanket of tranquility, and the walk back was silent, accompanied by the crunch of grass underfoot.

The next morning, the heat was overwhelming, and every movement seemed to require double the effort. You got up to find Rafe sitting near the window, lost in his thoughts. Her jaw was set, her eyes fixed on the horizon as if searching for answers in the distance. You knew she had been dealing with something since your kidnapping, something she hadn’t wanted to share, and you couldn’t help but feel the awkwardness hanging in the air.

That same day, when everyone gathered under the shade to escape the scorching sun, Sarah suddenly paled and swayed a little. John B quickly grabbed her, concern evident on his face.

“I’m fine, just a little dizzy,” she murmured, but everyone knew she needed more than fresh air.

JJ rummaged through the backpack and pulled out a half-beaten apple. “It’s the only thing there is, but it’s better than nothing,” he said, offering it to her. Sarah accepted it with a weak smile, biting slowly as John B looked at her with a mix of love and concern. 

Rafe watched the scene with the same distant expression, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. JJ, unable to contain his annoyance, uttered an acidic comment: “What’s the point of all your money if you can’t even help your sister with some decent food?” The tension cut like a knife, and Rafe, without a word, abruptly stood up and began to walk away. 

You looked at Sarah, who was avoiding her brother’s gaze. Driven by an instinct you didn’t even fully understand, you approached her and pulled a wad of bills from your bag. You placed it in her hands with a gentle gesture. “It’s for you to buy food, Sarah. You need to feed yourself well in your condition,” you said in a low but firm voice. John B looked at you, surprised and grateful in equal parts.

“Thanks,” he murmured, as Sarah gave you a genuine smile. “Seriously, thanks.”

Without saying anything else, you walked away in the direction where Rafe had gone. You found him at a makeshift market, where a few local vendors had gathered. He was standing in front of a stall, buying a basic-looking cell phone and other necessary items. You watched as he held the phone out, dialing a number and bringing it to his ear with a grim expression.

“Is it true?” he said, his voice filled with suppressed fury. “After everything I did for you… you betrayed me? Is it true?” There was a pause, with only the bustle of the market and your labored breathing to be heard. Then, in an icy tone of voice, he added, “Get your stuff out of my damn house. We’re done.”

He cut the call and stood still, tension drawn in every line of his body. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually approached. Just when it seemed like he was going to reject you, you noticed how his gaze softened at the sight of you. His lips moved, wanting to say something, but he only managed to murmur, “We have things to do.”

You had lost track of time since you had left that market following in Rafe’s footsteps. The hot afternoon breeze hit your face as you tried to keep up with him, not really knowing where he was taking you. One problem more or one less, you thought, it didn’t matter anymore. They walked through labyrinthine streets and narrow alleys, the echo of their footsteps resonating between the adobe walls. There was a latent tension in the air, something that made you lock your gaze on Rafe’s back, watching the stiffness of his shoulders and the way his hands clenched into fists.

Without warning, a group of men stepped out of the shadows. You recognized one of them, someone Rafe had had problems with before. It all happened so fast, the exchange of words was brief before the fists started flying. Rafe fiercely fought as if his life depended on it. You, without thinking, took a few steps back, your heart pounding, searching for something to defend yourself with in case it was necessary. 

The noise of the fight filled the narrow street, screams, the thud of fists, the sound of a body hitting a wall. Rafe won, as always. He never lost. When the last man fell to the ground, panting and cursing in his native tongue, Rafe turned to you, his face and knuckles marked by cuts and bruises.

Without saying a word, you took his arm and led him to a more secluded corner, your hands already shaking as you searched for a clean tissue in your bag. “Let me help you,” you said, your voice barely a whisper as you gently pressed a wound on his eyebrow. Blood dripped from it, tracing a trail down his cheek. 

He watched you in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he broke the silence, “You know, I should have known from the beginning. I should have chosen you… you never betrayed me.” His words, laden with a sincerity he rarely showed, made your hands freeze for a moment. 

You sighed, removing the tissue and looking at him with a mix of sadness and resignation. “It’s too late, Rafe. There are bigger things at stake now than choices of partner.”

He shook his head, a hint of desperation flashing in his eyes. “It’s not too late. I can choose you… if you let me.”

You felt your heart pounding against your ribs. You looked up at him, searching for any hint of doubt in his expression, but all you saw was determination. “Only if you get Sofia out of your life for good,” you warned, your tone more serious than you had planned. “Or I will kill her myself.”

A dark smile curved his lips, and he nodded, moving closer to you. “I know you would,” he whispered, before pulling your body into his. His lips sought yours, and the kiss was everything you had held back for so long. It was intense, passionate, a silent promise of all that could be and all that had been.

When he pulled back just a little, he tilted his head and whispered in your ear, “Future Mrs. Cameron.”

A shiver ran down your spine. Because, even though everything had been chaos, even though the decisions had been erratic and the wounds were still fresh, deep down in your heart, you hoped to be that: the future Mrs. Cameron. Because after all, you were expecting his child, and he, although he didn't know it yet, was already part of that future that you had begun to secretly imagine.

[vamptizm]

NOT A SECRET — paige bueckers

pairing : paige bueckers x wnba!fem!reader

synopsis : the bliss of winning the wnba championship causes a big slip up that exposes your relationship to the world

warnings : explicit language, alcohol, cigars and sexual innuendos (if you don’t like the new york liberty, you can replace it with your favourite team idc)

note : i haven’t checked for typos that thoroughly so… my bad

word count : 2.6k

What’s better than succeeding in life in almost every aspect? Sharing that success with someone you love and that loves you back, unconditionally and wholly. Meeting Paige Madison Bueckers had undoubtedly been one of the best things that life had blessed you with, other than your flourishing career. The two of you had met in 2019, both playing for team USA. Later on you would meet again at UConn, playing and succeeding alongside each other for the past four years. It wasn’t until barely a year ago, that the two of you decided to be brave enough to confess your love. But sadly, everything must end for a new chapter to begin, and here you were, living a two and a half hour drive from her to chase your dreams.

Luckily for you, Paige was the most dedicated and passionate girlfriend in the world, making it her mission to attend as many of your games during the playoff season as possible. Today was no different. It was her birthday, her special day, and here she was, supporting you. Hoping to celebrate you, rather than celebrating herself.

You were pacing around the open kitchen of your—extremely overprized—apartment, the nerves and anxiety eating at you like maggots, heart pounding in your throat and hands sweaty. This was by far, one of the most important games in your life so far, if not more important than the game against Iowa only six month ago.

“How about you stop walking around in circles and c’mere?” Paige spoke up from her spot on the malta-beige couch, arm slung over the back rest as her neck craned slightly to look back at you.

“I can’t, I feel like I’m about to throw up.” You spoke, your voice coming out almost like a choked whine, wiping your hands down on your sweatpants for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

You only had an hour left until you had to be ready and at the Barclays Center. Two and a half hours until the final game against the Minnesota Lynx began. You were a mess, and no one could blame you.

Sighing at your distressed state, the blonde lifted herself off of the couch, walking towards you with sympathetic eyes. She hated seeing you this way. It wasn’t the first time, and definitely wouldn’t be the last, but it never burdened her. If you needed to cling to her like a lifeline, she would be there. Every. Single. Time.

“Oh, baby. C’mere.” Her arms opened wide once she was standing a mere foot away from you, wrapping you into a hug. So tight and warm, so comforting and safe that for a moment, it felt like all your worries vanished into thin air. The only thing that mattered was the intoxicating scent and the protective warmth of your girlfriend.

You buried your face into the crook of her neck, arms wrapping around her waist as you allowed yourself to breathe—really breathe—for the first time since you had woken up. “I’m just scared. What if I mess up? What if I disappoint everyone and then I’ll be the rookie that ruined everything.” You mumble into her neck, voice slightly muffled but she understood you perfectly.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” Paige’s voice was firm, yet it didn’t lack the tenderness and gentleness you so desperately needed. Her hands snaked up, pulling away from the hug just enough to be able to cup your face in them. “That’s bullshit and you know it. You’re on top of the league right now, if not the world. This is not going to ruin your career. It is not going to diminish everything you have achieved and you’re sure as hell not going to disappoint everyone.”

With her hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing against your cheeks and eyes looking deeply into yours, you couldn’t help but tear up. Maybe it was the stress, maybe the nerves, or maybe it was the reassurance and praise that not only her words offered, but her entire presence in that moment.

“You’re going to be great, just as you’ve always been. How many times have you felt just like this and ended up wiping the floor with everyone?”

The way she was looking down at you almost had your knees crumbling, so gentle and sincere. “You think so?” Your voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and if it had been any other situation, you would’ve cringed at yourself.

“Baby, I know so.” Paige didn’t have to say more than that. It was enough to boost your confidence from basement level, to the roof.

You didn’t say much either, choosing to bask in the moment, hands snaking up to lay over hers that were still cupping your face, looking up at her with glassy eyes and a faint smile. In that moment, it was only appropriate for you to inch closer, placing a soft and short kiss on her pillow soft lips.

A smile crept up on the blonde as you pulled back again, “So… How about ‘pre-game good luck’ head?”

“Well… Wait, No! I’m still in distress.”

The arena buzzed with a low hum of anticipation as you stood at the edge of the court, taking in the packed stands, the flashing lights, and the sea of Liberty blue and green. Your heart was pounding—though you'd had nerves all day, they'd sharpened now that the moment was upon you . You scanned the crowd, gaze catching Paige's in her seat near the front. Paige's steadying smile softened the sharp edges of Your anxiety, and you exhaled, focus narrowing. This was it. The moment you had been working your ass of for. It was now or never.

As the whistle blew, your nerves dissolved like mist, replaced by the razor focus of competition. Everything outside the court vanished, your only objective now to take down the Lynx and bring home a win for the team. But as the first quarter unfolded, it became clear this game wouldn't go as planned. Your team struggled to find their rhythm, their usual crisp passes and quick plays seeming off. Shots were bouncing off the rim, free throws missed their mark, and the Lynx defense was ruthless. Every time you managed to drive toward the basket, you felt hands clawing at your arms, hips bumping you hard off course. You fought to keep your form steady, but even your own three-pointers—normally a guaranteed lifeline—fell just short. Beside you, Sabrina was playing through visible pain, her movements cautious, hindered by her UCL injury.

Paige's chest tightened with each missed shot and lost point, her eyes tracking your every move. She could see your frustration mounting, shoulders tensing after every failed attempt, and every bit of her wanted to rush down there, to shield you from the weight of this game. Tell you that she believed in you more than anything.

By halftime, the Liberty had fallen behind by nearly double digits. You felt your stomach knot and churn as you walked back down the tunnel toward the locker room, breath shaky, mind racing over every failed shot, every error. Before you knew it, hot tears were spilling down your cheeks, stinging with the shame of coming up short. You barely noticed the footsteps trailing you until you heard Paige's voice calling out her name, a beacon of comfort piercing her distress.

You slowed and turned, and there was your girlfriend, just outside the locker room door, her eyes brimming with concern. A teasing voice broke the tension—Stewie, giving you a gentle nudge on the shoulder. "Hey, save some of those tears for the win, rook. You're not out of this yet."

Despite yourself, you let out a shaky laugh, and then you were in Paige's arms, face buried against her shoulder. You clung to her, breathing in the familiar scent and drawing strength from your girlfriend's embrace. "I'm playing like shit right now," you mumbled, voice thick with disappointment.

She tilted your chin up, meeting your eyes with steady determination. "Hey, look at me. You've been through worse than this. Most of these people today are here to watch you. You're gonna go back out there and you're gonna play your game. I know you. You're not done." Her words wrapped around you like armor, steadying your nerves. With a last kiss on the cheek, Paige whispered, "Go show them who you are, Ma."

Buoyed by the reassurance, you returned to the court for the second half with renewed fire only ten minutes later. Your team began to close the gap, each player digging deep as they fought to find their rhythm. Your shots began to connect, and your movements were sharper, cleaner, feeding off your team's newfound energy. You could feel Paige's eyes on you from the stands, grounding you with every step.

By the time the game went into overtime, your team had clawed their way to a slim four-point lead, the clock ticking down the final seconds. With a fierce determination, you seized her moment—gripping the ball just past half-court, you made the reckless decision in a split second. You set your stance and launched a deep three-pointer, watching as the ball arched high into the air. The arena fell silent, everyone holding their breath as it spun toward the basket.

And then—swish. The ball dropped cleanly through the net, and the crowd erupted, an unstoppable wave of sound crashing over the court. Your teammates surged around you, pulling you into hugs and shouting in joy, their faces bright with triumph. You felt the overwhelming relief, the weight of victory sinking in as tears of happiness filled your eyes.

Amid the chaos, your gaze instinctively searched for Paige, who was already standing by her seat, pride radiating from her. Without thinking, you ran toward her, your heart full to bursting. When you reached Paige, your threw your arms around her, catching her in a fierce embrace. Before either of you registered what you were doing, you pressed a kiss to Paige's lips, the world melting away in that single moment. You were on cloud nine and nothing could bring you down, anytime soon.

Paige held you close, tears shimmering in her own eyes as she whispered, "I'm so proud of you, Baby. You fucking did it."

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of every struggle, every doubt, lifted, replaced by the solid warmth of love, victory, and the freedom to embrace who you truly were.

But then it dawned on you. The sudden realization of what you had just done and your face dropped, heart pounding impossibly faster in your throat all while Paige continued to hold you close. "Oh my god... Oh. My. God." You could barely manage to find the words, the guilt of what you had just done so impulsively hitting you like a wave and throwing you off that thrown you had been sitting on just a mere minute ago.

"I'm so sorry. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck... Oh god, I fucked up. The whole world just saw that, what do we do?" It was clear as day that you were panicking, the fear of disappointing your girlfriend eating away at you.

Paige however, didn't seem to have lost that smile on her face, her bright eyes almost blinding with the sparkle that shimmered in them, all while gazing at you. "I don't care. We've talked about this before, I want the world to know."

"Really?" Your voice was barely above a whisper, not trusting yourself to keep it from cracking in that moment.

"Yes, really. I would be fucking insane if I had anything against the world knowing that I'm not only dating the most wonderful person alive, but also a champion."

Your frown quickly turned upside down into a small smile, heart searing with love and pride. Not only were you a winner tonight, but with her on your side, you'd be a winner for the rest of your life.

"Now go and celebrate, you deserve it." The blonde began to release you from her grip, a soft grin playing on her lips.

"Come with me." You suggested instantly, not wanting to be apart from her for even just a second, if you didn't have to. "I wanna show off my prettier trophy on her birthday."

Paige's grin melted into a smirk, the sparkle in her blue eyes suddenly clouded and you had to make sure that your own eyes weren't playing tricks on you. "Your trophy, huh? Oh, I'm gonna fuck you so good when we get back home, champ."

Back in the locker room, the team was in full championship mode. As you and Paige stepped in, you were instantly drenched with a spray of ice-cold champagne, your teammates laughing and cheering as they each took turns celebrating. The room was filled with a mix of joyous shouts, laughter, and the sticky-sweet smell of champagne spilling from bottles held high. You could feel the bubbles fizzing on your skin, jersey soaked through, but none of that mattered—this was the taste of victory, and you drank it in like the best moment of your life.

Stewie grinned, grabbing a cigar and offering it to you with a proud nod. “Here you go, rook. You’ve earned it.”

You took it with a chuckle, feeling the weight of the cigar in your hand as you looked around at your ecstatic teammates. You didn’t smoke often, but right now, it felt like the perfect way to mark the moment. As you lit up, you took a slow draw and exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the air, feeling an odd thrill in the movement. Around you, your teammates roared in laughter and cheered you on, playfully tousling your hair and congratulating you as you relaxed further into the moment.

Paige stood slightly apart from the chaos, watching you with an expression of open admiration. Paige’s gaze lingered on you, catching every spark of joy in your eyes, every smile, and every bit of laughter that spilled from your lips. She let herself soak in the sight, wanting to imprint it on her memory—this perfect image of you, triumphant and glowing, a little champagne-drunk and flushed from the celebration. She didn’t care about the sticky residue of the champagne on her own skin or the faint smell of smoke in the air; all she could focus on was you, looking impossibly beautiful.

As you took another drag, exhaling the smoke with an air of confidence that was as charming as it was unfamiliar, Paige’s heart skipped a beat. There was something about the way you held herself tonight, bold and carefree, that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

You caught Paige’s eyes and, with a giggle, took a playful step toward her, the effects of the champagne clear in your soft, relaxed gaze. “Are you okay over there?” you teased, tilting your head with a grin, clearly catching on to Paige’s stare.

Paige’s lips curled into a smirk, her voice low as she leaned in, brushing a hand along your arm. “Oh, I’m doing great,” she murmured, her tone filled with a hint of mischief. “Just… can’t wait to get you home.”

Your eyes sparkled with a playful challenge as you smirked right back, the faint scent of champagne and cigar smoke hanging in the air between them. “I’m all yours in an hour or so,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that only Paige could hear.

“Longest hour of my life,” Paige replied, her voice barely above a breath, her eyes gleaming with anticipation as they lingered on your smile.

The locker room buzzed around you, but in that moment, you both were in your own world, two people tangled in a look filled with promises for later, ready to savor every bit of this win—together.

[adelliet]

Wolverine x f!reader

FUCK OR NOTHING

Summary: When you met Logan, you made a deal, that only involved intimacy without any deeper feelings. However, one day it changed and your whole relationship was definitely not up to par anymore.

Warnings: MDNI 18+, strong language, nicknames (bub, baby), praise kink, “friends with benefits”, fingering, unprotected sex ( p i v )

You don't even remember when you and Logan made this deal. You've been doing this for weeks, maybe months, and you love it. You agreed to fuck together but without any emotions or feelings involved, just sex. You both agreed that this would be the best way to avoid unnecessary problems or disagreements. Everything was perfect.

Every day you always looked forward to the evening when you would knock on Logan's door and in no time, you would be naked, full of his massive cock. You couldn't argue with the fact that he was extremely good at fucking and he always managed to make you cum, something that many men before him couldn't done. He was charming, not only with his pelvis, but also with his heart.

You couldn't admit it, but aside from fucking, you adored the small talk afterwards, when you were lying next to each other covered with a warm blanket, entwining your fingers and talking about your day or, conversely, Logan's. These were the moments where you were both skating on thin ice, when it came to catching deeper feelings. Either way, your agreement was still valid, until that fateful day.

It was late at night. You knocked on the door like you always do, eagerly waiting for Logan. When nothing came from the other side for a long time, you furrowed your brows in confusion but decided to knock a second time. When nothing happened again, you were ready to knock for a third time, but the door suddenly opened.

"Not today" was all he said before he closed the door again, leaving you in shock. After regaining your composure and blinking few times, you knocked on his door in frustration again. He opened the door with an annoyed sigh, giving you a stabbing look.

"I said not today" he wanted to close the door again, but this time he couldn't. You quickly put your foot between the door and the doorframe, not allowing Logan to fully close the door. He sighs again and rub his forehead, as you open the door and enter without permission. "Hey what's wrong?" your frustration was gone in an instant and replaced with pity.

He squeezed his face and shook his head, before opening his eyes to look at you. You felt like he was looking right into your soul, something was definitely going on. "Nothing, I'm just not in the mood today" normally, you would've understood that and walked away, but Logan seemed like he really needed someone and not just for sex.

"You can talk to me" you touch his arm to make him relax, but he flinched. That hit you a little, but you were more worried about Logan than your own feelings right now. He looked...you couldn't even tell what was going through his head, but he didn't look okay.

"Please just, leave me alone" he sat on the barstool and dropped his head into his hands. You were frozen and thinking, whether to leave him or keep trying to help him. On the other hand, you've known Logan for a while and when he says he wants to be alone, he really wants to be alone. As much as it hurt you to not being able to help him, you slowly walked towards the door with a sigh.

"Alright...just if you need something, you know I'm here" you said with the expectation that these would be the last words before you leave, but they sure weren’t. "Wait" you quickly stopped and spun on your tiptoes to face him. "We uh we gotta stop with this" he moved his hand in the air, indicating the two of you, more specifically your deal.

You felt a chill running down your spine as those strong words left his mouth. He said that like it was nothing and that may've hurt you even more. "What?" you furrow your eyebrows and slowly walk closer to Logan, who couldn't even look at you. "Look I-" "What do you mean we gotta stop this?!" your voice started getting more indignant and angry.

You stared at him blankly, before you got close enough to him, but he still didn't have the balls to look you in the eye. "I think it'll be better that way-" "Why?" you answered impulsively and your blood really started to boil. Logan seemed annoyed by your constant questioning but you couldn't care less. "Did I do something? Did I say something wrong or-" "You didn't do anything wrong"

Logan sighed tiredly as he shook his head, he was fed up. "Then why? Why do you want to suddenly throw this away, when it suited both of us for so long?" your voice slowly turned soft, but still with a hint of frustration. "There's a reason..." his answers only confused you more. "What? Tell me" you sat opposite to him and reached out for his hands. He tried to avoid them, but in the end he let himself be conquered by your touch.

"Just…please, we'll deal with it another time" "Why not deal with it now? I'm here, you can tell me" your constant probing made Logan lose his temper and therefore he burst forth in rage. "I broke the deal okay?!" he finally looked you in the eyes, but not the way you wished he would. It took you a moment to realize what he meant by that. "How?" you asked slowly and carefully.

"You know damn well..." Logan broke the eye contact and looked down. You could tell he was blushing, which kinda caught you off guard but thanks to that, you immediately realized what he was referring too. "Oh god" you responded quietly and dramatically. "Y-you caught feelings for me?" very carefully you leaned closer to Logan expectantly, but it seemed to upset him.

He shook off from your grip and stood up. He felt really under pressure which was another reason for his red face. "Please just go" you gave him puppy eyes, even tho you knew he wasn't looking at you. You find it cute, that he couldn't say it out loud he likes you. Too bad he doesn't know you feel the same way.

"Logan" you stood up and slowly walked over to him. He was still trying to look away from your presence, but he couldn't last long when you were getting real close to him. "I already broke the deal a long time ago" you place a hand on his chest, feeling his heart pounding. His eyes softened and he looked surprised by your words. He didn't say it out loud, but his face said really? So you nodded and smiled.

He was out of his words. A million thoughts were running through his mind and he couldn't form a meaningful sentence. “I should've told you earlier” you began to doubt and drop your head. Logan immediately comforted you and forced you to look up at him, as he grabbed your chin and pulled it. "Hey, you said it at the perfect time" he smirked and before you could smile back, he gave you a comfort kiss.

It wasn't a kiss like the previous ones that took place during foreplay and heated up the room. This one was charming, honest and lowkey careful. The main proof that there were deeper feelings between you than they should. It was long kiss. but it was followed by another comforting one that showed you the way home, and that home was Logan.

You felt his hands on your weist, firmly grabbing it and giving it a light squeeze, as he let his tongue enter your mouth. The atmosphere started getting tougher as the loving gentle kisses slowly drifted into hungry and lustful fighting with each others tongues. Despite the appearance that suggested how gentle those kisses were, they were now full of fire and passion.

Logan's hands were traveling and exploring every part of your body, even though he knew it perfectly long time ago. He knew where are your imperfection, marks or where you are most insecure, but thanks to him you love yourself more and more every day. He knew where are you most sensitive, where are you most ticklish and which places could send you to the edge simply and easily.

His hands suddenly ended up on your ass, squeezing it so hard, that there'll be definitely a massive bruise. When it comes to sex, Logan doesn't know the word slow or gentle. He harshly picks you up by your ass, obviously, and puts you on the counter you were just sitting next to a few minutes ago. Since you were already prepared for this, you were wearing just a loose short dress with no panties, because why bother wearing underwear if it's going to disappear in no time anyway?

Logan attacked your neck, bitting it and sucking it, even though you forbade him this act because of work, today was an exception, which he maliciously used. He rolled your dress up, messaging your thighs. His dick was twitching inside his pants, as he heard your typical whimper sounds. Even though it was the umpteenth time he heard them, he always adore them.

His hand on your thighs was deathly slowly approaching the place where you needed him the most. You were already throbbing around nothing, your wetness was dropping on the counter and you felt like if he won't thrust anything into you in no time, you'd faint.

Of course, Logan sensed this with his instincts and decided not to trouble the two of you. He gently started rubbing your folds as he left purple bruises all over your neck. You were moaning his name and tugging his soft hair, as your hips moved forward to his hand, craving for more. He chuckled, hot breath tickling your neck, before he moved his face in front of yours.

"What would you like hm?" he asked pathetically, even though he knew the answer very well. He really slowly started inserting one finger into you, making your breath catch in your throat. You wish he would move faster. "P-please" you bit your lips and moved your hips towards his finger to fasten the process, gaining another chuckle from Logan.

"What? Say it bub" he loved teasing you, especially in this state. It turns him on and you could tell that his tent in his pants was almost tearing the fabric already. "I want you" you quickly breathe out and shut your eyes tightly. "Really? How do you want me then" his cocky smirk, which you fortunately couldn't see, would probably make you furious, but in a hot way.

In a normal circumstance, when he wouldn't have his finger inside you, you would be tired of his commands already and just tell him to fuck off, but this wasn't a normal circumstance. "Inside me" that was enough for Logan to finally start acting like a man. He didn't mess with you at all, he stuck two fingers into you at once and aggressively curled them. You throw your head back and smile, as your teeth were still deeply sunk into your lips. You were finally getting what you wanted the whole day.

"Oh you fucking love that, don't you?" Logan giggled as you nodded, moving your hips in a rhythm of his fingers. The speed of his fingers was incredible and he was touching exactly the most sensitive points that made your body twitch. With every twitch you squeezed your face and let out a soft quiet moan.

Logan was on the edge. Even though he wasn't fucking you, he felt that way. Your face was enough for him to cum. He had to look away to last at least a little longer. "Logan!" you tightly tugged his hair as you felt the tightening feeling between your legs. "C'mon baby, cum for me" he smiled, looking down at his fingers inside your pussy, which was tightly clenching around him. You couldn't hold yourself anymore and with a few more curls, your whole body tensed and you felt the hot warm feeling in your lower stomach. You jaw fell open and together with a loud moan you relaxed and climax on Logan's long fingers.

You ride yourself off on his fingers as he still curled them, but at a slower pace. "Good girl" he whispered, you trying to catch your breath while he tried not to cum in his pants. He knew you wouldn't laugh at him and it wouldn't be awkward, but his desire to cum into you was unyielding.

He gave you some time to calm down. When you did, he wasted absolutely no time and harshly started unbuckling his pants. You helped him, taking off his shirt before he flashed you with that divine body. Even though you've seen him so many times that he's even started appearing in your dreams, every time you see his abs your mouth starts filling with saliva.

You greedily touched his sweat and heat coated body while Logan was impatiently fighting with his belt. When he finally manage to take it off, the sound of heavy fabric touching the floor makes your eardrums tickle. Your heart raced as you looked down to see his impossibly huge cock twitching and begging to be fucked. His balls were so filled and he really needed you now more than ever. You swallowed loudly and looked back up into Logan's lustful eyes, which were dark as the night sky.

He tilted his head, making your core start pulsating again. "Is that what you want?" you nodded impatiently. "Are you sure?" he grinned and leaned closer, so that your noses were almost touching. His hands rested on the counter, his body covering yours as a large shield. You nodded again, this time more eagerly. As long as he loves to provoke you, he can't resist you or your perfect pussy, that never fails to make him cum.

Without a blink of an eye, his lips were on yours, hungrily kissing you, while he adjusted his pelvis so that he penetrated you without problems. He knew your body so well, that he didn't even have to keep his eyes open, to insert himself exactly, where he is supposed to. A squeak moan left your mouth, still full of Logan's tongue, as you felt your walls expand around his cock. He entered easily as your wetness and cum worked as lubricant.

Logan wanted real badly to keep tasting your lips, but the deeper he was inside you, the harder it was for him to focus on that. When he was already immersed almost to his base, he bit your lips before leaving them for good and drop his forehead to yours. His hot breathing started being more frequent and stuttering. Your hands quickly find his back and without hesitation started leaving deep and bloody scratches.

He huffed as you were destroying his back. He really loved you. He started moving his hips, slowly at first to build the heat up, but before long he couldn't control himself anymore. He was pounding his full weight into his hips, looking at the place where you two connect.

"Ah fuck yeah" he whined, his nostrils big and you started beeing overwhelmed by his unreal speed. He was hitting your g-spor already and you knew you won't last long. You never do with Logan. "L-logan" you moan his name, just adding points to his ego but your sweet voice hits him right into his twitching dick. "Ah baby, you have no idea what you're doing to me" he grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer to his face as he desperately tried to catch his orgasm.

The sloppy wet sound surrounded the room and the air around you smelled like sex and passion. Logan could feel your heart beating abnormally fast and your skin surrounded by goosebumps. Your core hugging tightly around his length, making it harder for Logan to hold himself. You didn't need words to tell, that you were both coming. Drops of sweat fell from Logan's forehead onto you as his husky voice warmed your eardrums.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck..." Logan squeezed his face and dropped his head, as he gave you one last hard thrust, before emptying himself. He shot everything into you, finally releasing what he was holding all day. You whine as you felt his warm seed inside you, dripping from your core and covering your entire pussy, while Logan's dick was still fully inside you. He tried to catch his breath and wake his senses back. "Are you okay?" he cupped your cheek and suddenly, the hungry wolf eyes were replaced by a cute puppy look.

You nodded, smiling as you close your eyes but there was still something here that Logan will not just let go. You didn't cum, yet. After a while, he started moving his hips again. Your eyes widened and you looked at him confused, but when Logan started brushing your clit with his middle finger, you were in heaven.

The combination of being full and gaining pleasure from provocation of your clit was sending you right to the edge. You bit your lips, trying so hard not to be loud but you failed, as the warmth in your lower stomach started to accumulate. Your legs started shaking and eyes rolled back, as you felt the unyielding urge to pee. A few more moves from Logan's pelvis and his finger and boom, you lose yourself.

Your jaw fell open as you moan so loudly that even the neighbors definitely heard it. Logan smirked in satisfaction as he accomplished his mission and saw your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Good girl, good fucking girl" he kissed his way from your neck to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as quickly as possible. After both of your pulses calmed down, Logan carefully pulled out of you, causing a groan from both of you, and helped you jump off the counter.

You were a bit clumsy, your legs still shaking from the previous two orgasms you just gained. Logan chuckled, holding your wrist to keep your balance. "Hey hey hey easy there" He carefully helped you to his bed. He immediately laid down next to you and you took advantage of it. Using Logan's body as a pillow, you lay on his chest, entwining your leg over his and closing your eyes. Logan hugged you, letting a loud satisfied breath out as he watch your calm face that was squished just a few seconds ago, trying to be quiet.

“Logan?” you asked with your eyes keep closed, your voice sleepy. “Hm?” you took a moment before you answer. “Are we officially together now?” by this question, you caught Logan off guard a bit. He cleared his throat. “Are we?” he he didn't want to admit it first, because he was afraid that he would be too fast on you or that you would refuse him, but luckily none of this happened. "Yeah...we are" you said, making Logan smile. He gave you a soft kiss into your hair, before both of you fall asleep.

You never expected to date Logan. With a man you met by chance and promised that under no circumstances will feelings arise between you. Well but here we are, an example that anything is possible.

[grapejuicenharry]

Angel (Part 3)

Harry and Y/N have sex for the first time.

warnings: Pure smut, 18+

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆ . ✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶. ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶ ⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

It was an ordinary Thursday evening, and Harry and Y/N were sprawled out on the plush carpet of Harry's living room.

A laptop sat between them, books open, and both were supposedly working on their assignments-at least Harry was.

His brow furrowed in concentration as his skilled fingers danced over the keyboard, his glasses perched delicately on his nose.

Meanwhile, Y/N found herself staring at him, absently nibbling the end of her pen. She couldn't help but wish it was something else in her mouth. For the past few days, she had been feeling extremely horny— maybe it was because her period was close, or maybe it was just because of Harry. She didn't know, but her thoughts had been consumed with him, ogling him whenever she got the chance. She admired his mouth, his toned biceps, and the way his thighs flexed under his tiny shorts, offering a clear view of the tiger tattoo during their dinner breaks. It was a sight that never failed to send heat rushing through her body. She didn't know when or how it happened, but she found herself scooting closer, desperate to capture his attention.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, tilting his face toward hers and placing the softest kiss on his lips. It took him a moment to process what had just occurred. "Kiss me, please," Y/N murmured, batting her lashes at him. Who was he to deny the request of his precious angel? She looked so innocent, her lips pouting adorably, drawing him in like a magnet.

He leaned closer, taking her bottom lip between his and sucking it gently, eliciting the most sexiest sound from her lips in response. It was a sound that ignited a spark within him, sending his heart racing. The position soon became uncomfortable, and he gently pulled away to sit up. Y/N opened her eyes, her half-hearted protest dying in her throat as she saw Harry inviting her to settle on his lap.

Without hesitation, she climbed onto him, straddling his waist as she pushed his glasses atop his head. She adored how sexy he looked in them, but they often got in the way. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and they both leaned in for another kiss. Harry's hand drifted to her jaw while the other rested on her waist, as if trying to mold their bodies together.

What started as a sweet peck quickly escalated into a heated mess of tongues and mouths. Both groaning in each other’s mouth. Y/N felt alive, every nerve ending tingling as their connection deepened. They lost track of time, completely immersed in each other, panting heavily as they rested their foreheads against one another, breathless. 

"Harry, I want this," Y/N whispered breathlessly, the words tumbling from her lips with an urgency that surprised her. Harry opened his eyes in confusion, trying to contemplate what she was referring to. Then it struck him,

Oh, oh...

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

Y/N had been thinking about it for a while now. She felt safe, so safe with Harry, and wanted to take their relationship further by having sex with him. She knew he was a virgin as well, just like her. She understood the weight of this moment, the significance it held for both of them. She knew how important intimacy was to Harry and wanted him to feel safe and comfortable too. So they discussed it a few days ago, where she asked him if he ever wanted to have sex with her.

He'd smiled at her question, trying to keep the blush creeping up his cheek at bay, nodding his head, rubbing the back of his neck, and whispering, "Yes, I want to, whenever you are ready."

But in that moment hearing her say it, his heart was racing. His chest felt warm, almost buzzing, as he looked into her eyes. The way she wanted him, with that same vulnerable openness, made him feel understood in a way he'd never felt before. The anticipation swirled between them, palpable and electric, igniting the air around them.

He then asked her, cheeks red with blush and embarrassment, if she thought it was weird that he was still a virgin. Her heart clenched at the thought of Harry feeling insecure—she hadn’t realized he saw himself that way. Harry went on to explain that it was all new to him; she was his first girlfriend, and he’d never been interested in random hookups, so he hadn’t had the chance to be with anyone before. She quickly reassured him that she understood and admitted she actually liked knowing he hadn’t been with anyone else. The thought of Harry saving that part of himself made her feel a little warm. 

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ────

Harry scooped her up in his arms, his confidence surging as he rushed to his bedroom. She yelped in surprise and laughed as he gently tossed her onto the soft bed. The laughter filled the air, mingling with the tension that hung between them. Climbing up beside her, Y/N looked at him, her expression serious. "Wait, do you want this, Harry?"

His heart warmed at her care, knowing she wanted him to feel comfortable too; he loved her more than anything in this world. "Of course I do," he reassured her, though the flutter of nerves danced in his stomach.

"We can do it another time if you're not ready, Harry," Y/N whispered, running her fingers through his hair while he was momentarily lost in thought.

"No, no, I promise I want this, baby,"

Harry murmured, determination shining in his eyes. She still looked uncertain, so he gently held her face and kissed her. "Relax," he whispered against her lips, trailing soft, wet kisses down her jaw and toward her neck. All thoughts drifted from her mind as she surrendered to the bliss of his mouth, instinctively relaxing and arching her back. They both peeled off their shirts, leaving her in her tiny shorts and him in his boxers.

Harry cupped her breasts, gently rolling a nipple between his fingers and leaning down to suck on it, his moans sending vibrations through her body. Her back arched, fingers tangled in his hair, and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, feeling his hard length grinding against her clothed heat. The sensation was intoxicating, and she felt the heat pooling in her belly, a familiar ache of desire that she had longed for.

He knew how sensitive her nipples were-always so responsive-and he loved how they perked up whenever she was aroused.

He made a mental note to make her cum just by sucking on them one day, but for now, he wanted to taste her.

Kissing his way down to her navel, he tugged off her tiny shorts, leaving her in delicate lace panties. Pressing gentle kisses against her covered center, he dragged his nose along her slit, then hooked the panties aside with his teeth, kissing up her exposed folds and drawing her small nub into his mouth, sucking on it tenderly. 

"Oh, fuck... Harry, oh my god," Y/N moaned, her eyes closed as pleasure built in her belly, her vision clouding white. Her hand threaded through Harry's hair, tugging lightly, and she could tell he liked it by the way moans slipped from his mouth. She squirmed and writhed, her mind overwhelmed, especially as his hand drifted up to squeeze one of her nipples. Her other hand found the second, giving it the same attention. 

Harry then slid a finger inside her heated center, driving her wild. Her hips lifted instinctively due to the sensation, but Harry placed a hand on her hips to keep them down. He was sucking on her clit, pumping his fingers in and out of her, stretching her, while his other hand drifter upwards to play with her nipples. It was all too much for her. She was so close-almost there-but she stopped him, wanting to finish together, with him inside her.

Gently, she tugged on his hair, "No, I want to cum with you... please." Harry immediately slid her panties off, Y/N lifting her hips to help, and then his boxers followed, leaving them both bare.

"Shit, Y/N, I don't have a condom. I didn't think..." Harry murmured, looking down at her with concern.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm on the pill," Y/N reassured him, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. She could see his nervousness-he wanted everything to be perfect, for both of them.

He nodded, curls bouncing and falling over his forehead. She pulled him closer by the neck, kissing him deeply. Harry stroked himself a few times before guiding his tip to her entrance, letting it slide against her arousal. Y/N shivered at the contact. Gently, he eased just the tip inside while their mouths stayed connected, both of them letting out soft whimpers as he slowly pushed in further. Y/N closed her eyes, wincing slightly at the stretch, and he immediately stopped, looking at her with concern.

"Are you okay? Should I stop, baby?" Harry asked, his voice filled with worry. 

"No, please keep going. I'm okay, I promise," she whispered back, reassuring him. To ease her, Harry started rubbing tight circles on her clit, and the discomfort quickly turned into deep, pleasurable moans as he began to move, thrusting in and out, their bodies finding a rhythm together.

Y/N had never felt this full before; it was unlike anything she'd ever experienced.

The slight pinch had melted into pure pleasure, and she felt like she was floating on clouds, her mind filled with pink and white stars. Words slipped from her mouth, incoherent and overwhelmed, while her moans grew louder as he moved, hitting all the right spots. He was so big, filling her snugly, warmth radiating from him, and he felt like he was made to fit inside her, perfectly molded just for her.

Harry whimpered from the sensation, burying his face in her neck and gently biting, sucking the soft skin there.

"Harry, I'm close," Y/N murmured.

"Yeah?" he whispered back. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you cum-l want to see you." His voice was firm, laced with desire. Y/N opened her eyes, meeting his darkened gaze, lust pouring from him. Suddenly, the tension in her belly snapped, and she climaxed as he rubbed her clit faster. She clung to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, grounding herself as the waves of her orgasm ebbed.

Moments later, he was right there with her, his breathing ragged. "Y/N, Y/N, holy fuck... fuck," Harry chanted, burying his face in her neck as his own release took over, spilling warmth inside her. She could feel him, his cum slowly dripping down her thigh as they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily.

They held each other close, his weight resting on top of her, still connected and completely bare. Minutes, maybe hours passed, neither of them sure, but they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Harry slowly began to pull out, and Y/N winced at the sensation, his careful movements showing his tenderness towards her. He then gently scooped her up, carrying her to the bathroom and making sure she peed and cleaned both of them. While she was busy, he quickly changed the sheets in the bedroom, wanting them both to rest on fresh linens afterward.

When she returned, they climbed into bed together, pulling each other close under the warm covers. Harry wrapped his arms around her, Y/N smiled, looking up at Him, her eyes soft with emotion. She reached up, gently tracing her fingers along his jawline, and whispered, “I love you, Harry.”

His face lit up, and a warm smile spread across his lips as he gazed down at her. “I love you too, baby,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead, lingering there for a moment.

With their hands intertwined, they settled into each other’s arms, Harry continuing to whisper sweet words in her ear until sleep overtook them. They drifted off together, both feeling as though they were exactly where they belonged.

[fastandcarlos]

My Worst Nightmare : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

Your eyes went wide as you watched it all unfold.

Your heart beat faster than it ever had done before.

The feeling of your hand gripping his arm made Max jump beside you as you watched Lando’s front wheel clip against the front wheel of Charles. As soon as the incident happened you saw an aggression in Lando that you had never seen before, biting your bottom lip as he edges closer and closer to Charles’ car, almost inviting himself to get into some sort of incident against the other driver.

“What’s he playing at?” Max hissed next to you, eyes rolling at what he was seeing from his best friend.

“It’s like he wants to go crashing into the barriers,” you murmured, shaking your head in disbelief.

You could picture Lando getting frustrated in his car, eyes rolling, mouth tutting.

But he was the reason that he almost crashed out of the race. The only person responsible for any potential accident was Lando. The man who promised you every single race that he’d drive safe and that things would be okay.

Max’s eyes stay on you for a few moments as you carry on watching the race. He knows you worry and fret, but he could see frustration in you too. Frustration that your boyfriend was willing to crash so dangerously just because his front wheel got clipped, something you’d seen happen so easily in races plenty of times.

You hoped that would be enough to make him stop.

Lando kept on pushing though, every opportunity he tested the water, keen to try and scrape through whenever even a millimetre presented itself. You struggled to watch after a while, terrified that you’d ultimately end up watching your boyfriend get seriously hurt.

You’d never felt so relieved when the race was finished, watching Lando drive back into the garage in fifth. When he climbed out the car he expected to see you ready to enter his open arms, but instead you remained rather standoffish with him, shooting him a glare.

“Well done,” you told him, your face flat, taking him by surprise.

“Try and be happy for me, yeah?”

“Sorry,” you coldly sighed, “can’t help it.”

Lando walks across and presses a kiss against your cheek before being pulled back to get weighed. He wanted to play dumb, but Lando knew just from the tone of your voice why you were upset with him, and truthfully, he understood why.

He kept looking at you as he finished off race proceedings, hoping for something from you. A couple of times you offered him a weak smile, but other than that you remained with Max, struggling to listen to Lando try and make excuses in the media pen for his erratic driving. Eventually Lando headed off to grab his things, leaving you and Max alone.

Max poked your side to get your attention, “try not to be too hard on him tonight.”

“But he was being stupid Max.”

“I know, but I can tell he regrets it.”

A sign came from you, “what was he thinking?”

“Probably just adrenaline,” Max tried to defend, “maybe he saw something there that we missed.”

The ride home was pretty silent between the two of you, Lando tried to make small talk but you were still unimpressed. You headed back to your hotel room, Lando following just behind to give you enough space. As soon as the door shut and you were all alone, he finally cleared his throat.

He waited for you to sit down, throwing himself down beside you before you could protest.

“You might as well say what you want to say.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Lando chuckled, “I already knew that.”

You shot a glare across at him.

Lando’s attempts to lighten the mood fell flat as you silently scolded him. The tight corners and near misses were part of the job, but what happened today took all of that to the extreme.

“I wasn’t going to crash,” Lando told you, reading your mind and figuring what you were thinking.

“How do you know that?”

“We’re professionals,” he reminded you.

Your eyes rolled as he tried to brush off what you were saying, trying his best to reassure you in his own Lando way.

After a few moments Lando shuffled across the sofa, resting his hand against your thigh. “Maybe things were a little too close for comfort today.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” you hummed, “being a pro doesn’t mean being stupid.”

“I’m sorry if I made you worry about me.”

“I thought you were going to crash,” you sighed.

“I didn’t though.”

“My point is though, you could have,” you reminded him, keeping your voice firm. “That would be my worst nightmare Lando.”

Your admission took him by surprise, his eyes soften as he looks at you. The hand that was on your thigh moved to intertwine in with your own, Lando moved even closer towards you, nudging against your side. He could hear the hurt in your voice, terrified that your worst nightmare would end up coming true.

Lando squeezes gently against your hand, whispering your name. “Perhaps I let my frustrations get the better of me today, I should’ve been more careful and not risked anything dangerous happening.”

“I don’t ever want a repeat of Vegas Lan.”

“Me too, I don’t ever set out to do anything like that,” he assured you.

You nodded in reply to him. “I don’t know what I’d do if something ever did happen.”

“Hey, let’s not think about that.”

You went to speak but your voice faltered as Lando pulled you into his side. Luckily for you, Lando knew exactly what you were trying to say to him.

“I promise that I won’t do it again,” he whispered.

A smile of relief appears on Lando’s face as the corners of your mouth slowly turn up into a smile of your own. “I hate you for scaring me like that today,” you jokingly told him.

Lando’s head shook as you hit against his chest, trying your best to sound serious through the few giggles that escaped.

“You love me really,” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss against the side of your head.

You hummed back at him, “I do, that’s why I’d hate to ever see you get hurt.”

Lando cups against the side of your face, bringing you towards him for a gentle kiss as if to remind you one more time, he really was alright.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[jasmines-library]

maybe when the batfam is watching and batsis falls asleep on one of the boys shoulders and they take care of her and it’s all fluffy and nice 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷 your writing is like the best thing ever I LIVE for it

Look after you

Note: Thanks for requesting anon! I need to add more fluff to my page...

Warnings: None

Word count: 630

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

It had been a long few weeks.

Perhaps that was an understatement. Between school and the appearance of a new crime syndicate, you had been extremely busy. Each day that passed felt hours longer than the last as you found yourself collapsing into bed at ungodly hours each night. After finally returning from patrol, you could sprawl out across your bed for a few hours of sleep before the vicious cycle began again.

But, it was finally Saturday night and you and your brothers had piled into the living room to settle in front of the TV. The tradition began when Tim joined the family and had grown ever since. It was your favourite part of the week; a time to unwind from the madness of your double life.

You sat on the couch, wedged between Dick and Jason. Tim had sprawled himself across the remaining space, tucking a pillow under his arm, and Damian settled across the floor, resting the back of his head on your knees. The five of you had bundled together, passing around the bowl of snacks that Alfred had prepared for you.

The fireplace crackled away in the dim room, providing a small, flickering light and a soothing warmth. Your exhaustion soon began to overcome you as your eyes fluttered shut, urged on by the quiet warmth in the room. You let out a yawn and shifted around on the couch between your brothers and as time passed you found your head began to feel heavy so you rested it on Jason’s shoulder. Just for a moment.

But that moment lasted much longer than you had anticipated because you found your eyes drifting closed and your body falling into a much needed sleep. Jason glanced at you, being careful to try not to move his body so as not to wake you, and smiled. Glad to see you finally taking a minute to relax.

When the movie finally finished, Damian twisted around to gape at the rest of the family. Throwing his arms up as he exclaimed: “They can’t just leave it like that! What kind of an ending-“

“Shh.” Jason glared at his little brother.

“What…” Damian barked, about to start a rant about how he could do what he wanted when Dick gestures to you asleep on Jason’s shoulder and his words fell silent. “Oh.”

“I swear if any of you idiots wake her up-“ Jason started as you nuzzled closer to him.

“She looks so peaceful.” Tim smiled, taking out his phone and snapping a picture.

“Tt. Drake, that better not be going anywhere.” Damian wanted to roll his eyes at his brothers action but as he looked up at you, he understood.

Jason moved slowly as he hooked his arms under your legs to hoist you up as smoothly as he could. He shifted your weight as he stood, moving towards your room down the hall.

As he walked, you stirred slightly. Your eyes blinked, eyelashes fluttering listlessly against your cheeks.

“J’sn?” You murmured against his neck.

You felt him nod as he whispered “go back to sleep little wing.”

You murmured something incoherent as your eyes blinked back shut again. When you reached your room, Dick pushed ahead to push open your door so that Jason could bustle in and lay you gently on your bed that you melted into.

Tim entered a few moments later, placing an extra blanket over you and tucking it under your arms to keep you warm as Dick smoothed the hair away from your face.

Once you were situated in bed, your brothers crept away from your room. Damian placed a kiss on your forehead, before moving towards the door where the light from the hallway still streamed through.

“Good night little sister. Sweet dreams.”

🦇 BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@mamapucket

@xxrougefangxx

@hearts4robs

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Perspectives

marshmallow floof plot: Megumi recalls you and Gojo falling in love through his eyes. content: fem! reader, megumi is in denial about caring about Gojo, Gojo is obsesseddddd with you shamelessly, but its okay because so are you with him! warning!: megumi is not good with emotions :/ or tolerating Gojo word count: 5.7k satoru gojo x reader note: can we pretend utahime and gojo are the same age pls and thank u - also i am delusional and in my head suguru did not defect so gojo never had to go thru all of that okay <3333 anywau i hope you enjoy!! put a lot of thought and love into this!

At only six years old, Megumi was already quite intelligent. As an extremely perceptive child, he understood far more than he should have at such an age. Typically, kids his age were naive and gullible; Megumi however was the complete opposite, and that was partially due to his aloofness.

When Satoru Gojo first met Megumi, he felt like he was talking to a grandpa in a miniature body, sassing anyone who dare interact with his little self. As stern and as gloomy as the boy persisted on to be, though, Gojo picked up on hints of tenderness and compassion laced between every word Megumi spoke about his sister, Tsumiki. Easily, Gojo could discern what he deemed too much deeply rooted pain and defensiveness in the young Fushiguro. Having his guard up was engraved into his mind; the wall he placed between him and the world had it's own sector in his immune system and acted with automaticity, an innate defense mechanism.

Despite all of the anguish intertwined in every breath Megumi exhaled, and despite his cold nature he employed to protect himself from being hurt again as he has before; despite being abandoned, and despite not being surprised he was; despite not even hitting double digits, yet already carrying the attitude of a the wisest owl; despite all of the thoughts racing through Gojo's head, he knew Megumi was special. Though a part of it may have been due to the responsibility he felt over the boy after murdering his father, Satoru Gojo was confident in one thing: he would take care of this kid like his life depended on it.

From then on, Gojo took the role of Megumi's benefactor, funding him and his sister so that they could live without worry. Megumi begrudgingly allowed him to endow his life, though it was rather difficult. The guy was so over-the-top and bothersome when he decided to actually go and physically check up him. Visits from were sparse, though, if Megumi really cared or needed anything, Gojo was always a text away.

And soon he would learn that you were, too.

The first time your existence was brought to Fushiguru's attention, it was mildly unintentional on Gojo's end. He was completing his routine check-in on Megumi about six months after taking him under his wing, ensuring he was doing fine in school - other than the fights he found himself in every now and again, of course. And after everything checked out okay, he rambled on about his week and how exhausting it was being the strongest, greatest individual to exist in this time and how much Yaga has been up his ass since he was promoted to principal and blah blah blah...

"Can you believe he was expecting me to get to the school before nine A.M.? Hah! Funny man. I need my beauty sleep. How else would I always look this handso- Oh!"

Megumi, who was in no way religious, praised in that moment whatever God up above sent a call to Gojo's phone at that exact moment, for he failed to believe he could have pretended to listen to another second of his unimportant and unnecessary rant. It truly was over-the-top, and Megumi was not a fan. He had never, nor did he think he would ever, warmed up to the way Gojo's ego seems to make a nearly empty room feel claustrophobic.

"Heyyyyy!" Gojo dragged, acting like a highschool girl with the way he twirled the end of his hair and giggled at whoever was at other end of the phone. If Megumi cared to look closely enough (which he totally doesn't, since he is so disinterested in Gojo and does not dare to look at him too long or he will automatically become annoyed), a rosy hue could barely be seen on the apples of the older man's cheeks, growing more and more apparent the longer the phone call went on.

Obviously, Megumi did not want to listen to the likely boring conversation, but since he was stuck in the same room as Gojo, he had no other choice but to eavesdrop on the phone call. Or, more accurately, he was playing detective to solve the mystery of who on the other end was transforming Gojo, as childish as he is, into a tweenage boy talking to a cute girl for the first time.

"I'm with Fushiguru, actually," Megumi overheard, his interest only minutely piqued after hearing his name. Whoever was on the other end must have known who he was already given the way Gojo did not feel the need to elaborate on who exactly Fushiguru was. That irked Megumi.

"Yeah, just hanging out, you know. I'd say we're best buds! Right, Megumi?" Gojo moved the phone away from his ear and looked at the boy across from him expectedly.

"No," is all Megumi spoke in response.

Gojo's eyes widened slightly, not expecting such a response, before he laughed and continued, "Silly guy! Such a silly guy."

The call took way too long and Megumi was half tempted to leave the room, but he was still getting used to Gojo and did not fully understand what his role was in his current situation. Was Gojo considered a houseguest? Was Megumi supposed to have something prepared as a thank you? Even if he was, he wouldn't do that for Gojo. What if something went wrong, or Gojo did something stupid? Tsumiki was at her after school club, being the natural social butterfly she was. Megumi had assumed the role of the man of the house at merely seven, and he was not going to disappoint her or let anything go haywire on his watch. This was his roof, and nothing would happen to their humble little abode under his watch.

Finally, Gojo said his goodbyes to whoever he was speaking to, set his phone down, and sighed in the most i-must-be-living-in-a-daydream-because-there-is-no-way-life-can-be-this-good-and-i-am-so-in-love-but-i-dont-even-know-it sort of way.

"You would like her," Gojo broke the silence after a few moments of savoring the butterflies in his stomach.

"Who was that?" Megumi queried, and if Gojo listened closely, he could hear echos of intense interest in the boy's simple question.

"A friend from work."

"You don't have friends."

"Hey!"

-----

After your existence was brought to light, it became a thing that whenever Gojo visited, he spent half the time on the phone - whether texting or on a phone call, it didn't matter. He was always talking to you.

Megumi supposed he should have felt grateful since Gojo finally became less unbearable. His check-ins, although hard to predict when they would be or how long in between they would reoccur, became less about how much Gojo loves himself and more about... well, you. It was a nice change from hearing his neverending egocentric comments, to be fair. Megumi was not complaining.

"You remember her, right, Megumi?" he asked while walking Megumi home from school one day. He was on a tyrant about something that had happened at Jujutsu High a few days prior before realizing he might had forgotten about the most important detail: you. The chance that Megumi may not even know who he was speaking about generated a sharp gasp escaping from Gojo's lips.

"Yes. She's all you talk about," Megumi deadpanned. What a stupid question, the boy thought to himself, when Gojo asked this every single time he bothered to show his face around here.

Gojo chuckled, responding in a voice that was way up in the clouds, as if he was skipping through a meadow abundant with good feelings and the potential for new relationships, "Hm, yeah. I guess you're right! Sorry, kid. Just had to make sure you knew."

At this point, Megumi learned a lot about you: You taught second-year sorcerers at Tokyo Jujutsu High, you went to Kyoto Jujutsu High, you were in same year as Gojo was, you were acquaintances for a while, your best friend (unfortunately so, as Gojo whined when he told Megumi) was Utahime, who was oddly protective of you and rude for no reason to Gojo (it is most definitely within reason), you were the most selfless person to walk the surface of this planet, you cared more for others than for yourself, and you and Gojo were really, really, really good friends now that you worked together and you two were close and he was friends with you and you texted him all the time and hung out too and you spent time together and you are theprettiestpersonhehadeverplacedhissixeyeson-

Basically, Megumi knew more about you than he comfortably should, and you were all Gojo seemed to talk about now.

Megumi found it sort of... endearing how much Gojo spoke about you. For someone so certain in himself and all of his glory, it was nice to hear him talk about someone else that way. He discerned an innocent intent in Gojo's actions, from the soft grin that graced his face when he rattled on about you, to the way he had begun to ask eight-year-old Megumi for advice on women (which he has surprisingly been helpful with - especially the time when Gojo didn't know if you'd prefer a specific flavor of mochi over another, and Megumi's suggestion ended up being the perfect one because it was your favorite). And though he would never, ever utter the words out loud, Megumi enjoyed hearing Gojo talk about you. It brought him down to earth and made him feel more like a mortal being; even Satoru Gojo crushed, fawning over you like you were a brand new toy and he was a toddler unwrapping gifts on Christmas Day. Even the man who had everything in the world simply wanted just like the rest of the world; he yearned for things in life that he did not ("Not yet, but surely soon!" Megumi was certain Gojo would say if he could read minds) have.

The two boys sat together at Megumi's, eating some sweets Gojo brought back from his mission. Gojo had a bouquet of flowers set delicately on the table in front of him, preparing himself to go to your house after his pep talk with Megumi and ask you on a date. Finally.

Staring at the flowers beside him, Gojo resolved to pick a flower out of the bouquet; a pretty, pale pink daisy that reminded him of the shade of your cheeks when he teased you. He rolled the green stem of the daisy back and forth between his index finger and thumb while echoing the declarations of his planned speech confessing his feelings for you. He had his heartfelt soliloquy memorized, but he was still feeling... apprehensive.

"She loves me," Gojo began, plucking a petal off of the flower and setting it delicately on the table. He spoke lowly, as if his life depended on the resolution he would find when he would extricate the last of the daisy's petals.

Megumi looked up from the book he was reading - a true crime mystery he had been quite invested in - to figure out what the man next to him was doing.

"She loves me not," Gojo plucked another petal, placing it on top of the other one he had already taken off.

Ah, Megumi understood it now. He's transforming into a child; his obsession with you had turned his brain to mush. He had now, mentally, been beat by Megumi, descending into the intellect a five year old smitten with a kindergarten crush.

"She loves me!" Gojo chirped. He plucked another petal before reporting with a glum tone, "She loves me not."

This went on and on. Megumi observed without a word and Gojo continuing the game that is so typically played on on a children's playground.

How on earth did you have such a drastic effect a man so above the rest of society? The man put on a pedestal by all of the Jujutsu world; the one who could take on any obstacle and leave without a scratch; the same guy who died and brought himself back to life; he could isolate himself from the rest of the world in an instant using only his limitless technique, yet, you always found a way to draw him back him - and somehow, somewhere in the mix, you had The Strongest Sorcerer wrapped around your finger.

"She loves me, Megumi!" Gojo proclaimed when he picked the final petal from the flower. "I mean, of course she does. Look at me."

Ah, there was the daily dose of Gojo's big ego; his head was as inflated as expected, but was on display little later than usual. Megumi referred to it as The Daily Dose of Gojo: DDG. He was bound to hear at least once a day about how much Gojo loved himself, whether through text or in person. But today, it was more like he was venturing to persuade himself on that fact, too.

Megumi then realized that this was the first time he had seen Gojo nervous.

He wondered what about you could make Gojo nervous, because not even the strongest of curses causes The Strongest Sorcerer to break into a sweat. What exactly is it that you have that grants you the title of the one human who could make Satoru Gojo nervous? He understood that you were special to him, but he still had never met you, and he is starting to want to.

He wasn't sure why he felt so protective over you. You were a twenty-year-old woman who he has never even met in person, even though he knew from Gojo the color of your eyes and the smell of the perfume you always wore. One thing was for sure, though: if Satoru Gojo messed with your heart, Megumi would fight him with all of the effort his child body could exert in one go, then kick his ass all the way to the core of the earth to be at such a heat that his infinity disfunctioned, ensuring he suffers for ever even considering toying with your feelings.

-----

"Fushiguru!" Gojo hollered as Megumi exit his elementary school.

Megumi glared at the white-haired male as he stalked toward him, untrusting of the motives at play. Gojo watched the child over the rims of his sunglasses, a toothy smile spread across his face while he waved excitedly. He had something planned, as per usual.

"What do you want?" Megumi groaned, and he eyed the two individuals in front of him with suspicion, though he already had an idea on who you were.

It was an uncommon sight for him to be picked up from school, but for Gojo to be accompanied by someone other than Ijichi was borderline shocking. There was only one person you could be, however, and Megumi suppressed the fluttering of excitement he felt as he saw you.

"Hey! Rude to speak to your elders like that," Gojo jested flippantly. "I want you two to meet!"

Fushiguru listened as Gojo repeated every syllable of your name that he has repeated a million times before. It rolled smoothly off of his lips, like caramel drizzle on the sweetest treat from his favorite bakery. It has been about two months since you, somehow willingly, agreed to a date with Gojo. It has been about a month since you agreed to officially be his girlfriend, which Yaga was not the most pleased to hear, but Gojo dealt with that and ensured the security of both of your jobs.

"Hi, Fushiguru!" You waved, a wide smile adorning your face. "Nice to meet you! Gojo talks about you all of the time."

"Hi," Megumi quietly said. He suddenly felt shy in your presence. You stood in front of him in all of your beauty, with the kindest smile on your face and the softest look in your eye, gazing at him as if he were the most important person in the world. Gojo did not do you justice when describing you to him.

And suddenly, everything Gojo ever said about you made complete sense - now, he finally understood how even the famed Satoru Gojo fell victim to the enigma that was you.

"I'm a friend of Gojo's! I wanted to meet you, and I don't know if you would want to, but I would love to get to know you," you offered. You folded your hands together in front of you and smiled politely toward the young boy. You were doing your best to not look too nervous because you really did want to get to know this kid, but from what Gojo's told you, he was not the most sociable character. Something about his melancholy aura is rather intimidating, to say the least, and you were doing your best to accommodate.

"...will he be there?" the kid questioned after some thought. As he spoke, he pointed his thumb toward his benefactor who immediately took offense to whatever he was implying, whining loudly in the background of what had become the two of yours conversation.

"Who, Gojo? Oh, well, he doesn't have to be," you suggested over Gojo's objections. "It can just be you and me. Or, if you are more comfortable with it, he can come with-"

"No. No Gojo," he interrupted. Gojo continued in his protests, but they all drowned into white noise as Megumi continued. "But sure."

You craved so badly to smile widely, high five Gojo for the feat you just accomplished, jump up and down, and display your excitement for his agreement on your face. But you were so worried you would scare him off, so instead, you opted for a soft smile while you said, "Great! Is now okay?

"Sure," he returned, emotionless as always.

"Perfect. Your pick on what we do. And it's on Gojo!"

And you walked away, ignoring Gojo whining after you. You'd coddle him tonight when he would inevitably pout to you about abandoning him for a little kid. For now, though, the important task at hand was getting to know Megumi Fushiguru - who reluctantly held your hand as you walked to the arcade he selected.

From then on, you were a common face in Megumi's life.

When he was in fourth grade, the two of you started a tradition where every other week, you would pick him up early from school and get ice cream and talk (as much as Megumi was willing to, at least). You had surprised him after school one day a couple months ago, and the routine stuck after he asked you to go again the couple weeks later. Not that you ever complained - you would never in your right mind take for granted Megumi willingly hanging out with you.

"So, how has school been?" you probed, Megumi begrudgingly held your hand as you walked through the busy streets of Tokyo (he claimed he was old enough to walk on his own, but you told him it was just for your own sanity in the scary world of Tokyo and when he turned ten you wouldn't do it anymore, and who was he to deny you of peace of mind when that is all you ever wished upon everyone els?).

"Fine," Megumi muttered. He was not the most fond of crowds, which was glaringly obvious as he squeezed your hand more aggressively the farther you ventured into the city. So yeah, maybe he did kind of appreciate your overprotectiveness.

That was the day you learned Megumi had his first crush.

Well, okay, it wasn't really a crush. He just thought someone was cute.

As you sat side-by-side, he ate his vanilla ice cream cone with chocolate sprinkles, you ate your choice of ice cream, and the two of you chatted - meaning you talked, and he occasionally threw in a word or two.

"Any girls you think are cute? Or guys?" You sought, emphasizing the teasing nature of your question by tapping your elbow into his side. Megumi glared up at you through the strands of his hair, but you could see the red tint on his pale skin - a sign you were on to something. "Ooooh! Tell me all about them!"

"Stop it," he sulked and stared off into the distance, ice cream forgotten in his hand. You could tell he was thoroughly embarrassed, but you just could not for the life of you get over how adorable he looked.

"Aw, Megumi. I'm just teasing. But you can always talk about that with me, you know?" you offered. "I can give you all the advice on girls. I would not recommend asking Gojo about them. His flirting skills are... unconventional. Plus, I know I'm your favorite. So just gives an excuse to rub it in his face!"

"Thanks," Megumi spoke broodingly. His ice cream was starting to melt a little down the side of the waffle cone. The treat regained his attention as he finally noticed the melting mess, and immediately, he tackled cleaning it up. He hated messes.

"So... does that mean I'm your favorite?" you interrogated. This had been a debate between you and your boyfriend for a long time now.

"Sure."

And amongst the crowds of people, you - a full grown adult - hollered and jumped up and pumped your fist in satisfaction, because that was the best thing anyone had every said to you.

-----

Megumi took back whenever he had the ignorant thought that Gojo was becoming more bearable. Completely rescinded it. He was absolutely the most unbearable human to ever have walked this planet; residing in the same millennia as this man was barely tolerable, let alone inhaling the same air or sitting in the same room.

Gojo wanted to propose to you and he wouldn't stop talking about it.

Or asking Megumi for advice.

Yeah. Satoru Gojo was asking an eleven-year-old boy for help proposing to his long-term girlfriend.

You had been dating for over three years, and Gojo was growing impatient; he wanted you to be fully his. Not that you weren't already, but he wanted to be officially - by the law, by the symbol of marriage, and by the ceremony that accompanied it. He wanted you to take his name and be a new addition to the Gojo lineage, and if it came to the day, maybe add some little ones to the family. It was getting the point where want wasn't enough to describe how he felt - it was a necessity to marry to, to be yours forever.

Megumi had grown a lot closer with you with the past months, even opening up a little. He mentioned to you his internal debate regarding "good people" and "bad people", to which you listened, you heard him, and you cared. Genuinely. You hugged him, and in that moment, he felt so loved, he never wanted to leave your arms - the arms that would protect him from anything scary, like nightmares or curses, and shield him from experiencing any more hardships. He wasn't used to that - yeah he had his sister, whom he loved so dearly and she did in return, to be cared by a motherly figure was something he had barely experienced.

For the life of him, he could not figure out how or why you willingly, even happily, subjected yourself to the hinderance that was Gojo. Every time he asked you why, you respond, "Oh, Megumi, you're a funny one!" and laughed the heartwarming laugh that made him feel like home. Megumi knew, deep down somewhere he wouldn't ever like to admit, that you were happy, and Gojo made you happy. He knew you loved Gojo. He was fully aware of all of that. And he had witnessed as your relationship grew more serious with time Gojo beginning to think for more than just himself - he grew as an individual, doing what he thought was best for the ones he loved, rather than what suited him best. Megumi knew that come to it, Gojo would lay down his life for you. If it meant making a deal with the most dangerous curse, or if it meant sacrificing his soul, Gojo would do it for you, and honestly, Megumi had the inkling that Gojo would do it for him too.

"What if I have a plane do the whole 'marry me?' in the sky? Ugh, but that is so overdone. I need to be creative and go all out for her. What do you think, Megumi?" Gojo inquired, to which Megumi only tuned back in because he heard the sound of his name.

"Just ask her. You know she'll say yes," Megumi grumbled what he already knew was fact.

"Well, of course she will. Who would turn down my handsome self?" Gojo gestures to his person, a confident smile on his lips. "But you're right. Ugh, Megumi, what do I do?" Gojo held an ebony ring box, anxiously passing it from one hand to the other and back, the piece of jewelry it contained an indicator of how serious he was about this. Why he was carrying such an expensive ring around so casually was beyond Megumi's pay grade, but he knew Gojo would not let anything happen to it.

"You'll figure it out," Megumi said, as he had no ideas either - you deserved everything in the world, and no proposal or material thing would be enough to thank you for all you have done for everyone else.

"Oh my god, I did!" Gojo jumped from his seat, giddy as a little kid, and celebrated whatever idea he came up with. He placed the ring box in his pocket, where he would protect it with every cell in his body.

"Great," Megumi said. He prayed to himself that Gojo would now finally get out of his hair.

"I'll take her on a nice trip - she's always wanted to sightsee in Europe, but hasn't had the time - and then, once we land in Greece, I'll do it there and- and I'll leave it at that. Don't wanna spoil the surprise yet for everyone. Thanks Megumi!"

And Megumi smiled a tiny little smile to himself as Gojo exited his house, excited for the two of you.

And he congratulated you when you came home from the trip Gojo planned for the two of you. You visited him and ran up, showing off the ring you were sure Gojo spared no expense on. Though, Megumi had already seen it from the hundreds of times Gojo showed him it, and not to mention all the pictures you send him from overseas.

And he continued to be excited for you as he helped you with planning - because if there is one thing to know about Megumi, it's that he is organized. So he helped you figure your ceremony out by ensuring all the paperwork you had and the appointments you booked and all of your purchases were kept track of, or else the wedding would have been a disaster. If Gojo asked him for help, though, he would laugh in his face and say absolutely not.

And then, before he knew it, the wedding was there. Megumi was the ring bearer, of course. He was almost 13 at that point, and he was starting to grow into himself and show signs of growing up (puberty!).

He felt... happy.

Happy for you. Happy for the new and official makeshift family that established itself. Happy to know that you were genuinely happy, and that for all of the love you constantly gave to others without hesitation, someone gave finally was giving you that love back, and then some. Because he saw how much Gojo adored you, and honestly, there was no one else he would want to be with you.

Now he stands, at Tokyo Jujutsu High for his first year at the school. His benefactor who drives him up the wall is his teacher, and now, not only does he have to deal with him normally, but he actually has to listen to him.

But at least you're there too. He has you, always.

And for that, he smiles. A rare smile reserved for the sparse moments where he is genuinely happy - and he is, because he knows you'll save him from Gojo if he needs you to.

The improvised family he's found himself in may not be exactly what he dreamed of, but he's happy with it nonetheless.

And he still struggles with the dilemma of what is good or bad, and he still struggles to find his purpose in the world, and he is still angry at the universe for putting him in this world when there was no reason for him to be there, and he still struggles with the pain of abandonment and his found comfort in solidarity.

But that's okay. It'll be okay. He has you. He has you because Gojo brought you into his life.

He's grateful for that.

Megumi hopes one day he can find the love you share for himself. But that's a problem for the distant future. And when he has another crush, you will be the first to know - not because he would admit it to you, but because somehow, you always know. You know him better than he knows himself at this point, and it's a scary talent you have, but one you most definitely possess.

With that, Megumi steps forward, walking alongside you into the building he will be at almost everyday for the next few years. While he wasn't holding your hand like old times, it was okay. Because he was growing up, and he had a future ahead of him that made you so excited for him.

"I'll see you later, Meg. Got a long day ahead," you bid farewell and ruffle his hair. The two of you stop in the barren hallway facing each other, and you are disappointed at how he keeps growing, and at some point in the near future, he will surpass your height. It feels like you're shrinking, honestly, with how fast he's growing.

But you always knew he would at some point, just like you knew that he would one day decline holding your hand while in public, and how one day he would outgrow your ice cream runs (though they still happen every now and then, just not as frequent as in the past).

"See you," Megumi responds.

"Love ya!" You lean and place a chaste kiss on the side of Megumi's head. You remember when you used to be able to place one on the top of his head without going on your tiptoes, but times are changing, or you're shrinking or whatever, and the side of the head will do.

"Yeah, love you, too," Megumi says, rushing the end of the sentence and turning around to walk away. You say it to him so often, and he loves you, but it's still difficult for him to express that.

But that's okay. It's all okay.

He knows whatever is in the future, you will protect him, and Gojo will watch over him, and everything will be okay. The two of you will love him unconditionally, even if he struggles to say it back.

And he'll never admit it, but if there is one thing he's grateful for in life, it's Gojo, for he brought you into his life, and what a blessing it is to exist at the same time as you do.

"So, let me get this straight," you begin, staring at the three individuals in front of you. "You sent Megumi alone to find Sukuna's finger at some school, which was taken by random students who tried to unravel it, which ended in this kid-"

"Yuji Itadori, sensei!" Yuji introduces himself, saluting to you for some reason.

"Right. Itadori ate the finger. Sukuna's finger. And he is now Sukuna's vessel."

"Yup!" Gojo confirms and he gives you a thumbs up. "That about sums it up."

"So tell me why when I asked about three hours ago why all of the higher-ups were acting like they were shitting themselves, you didn't think to tell me what happened?" you ask, irritation with your husband woven in between every syllable you speak.

"I did, but I knew it would be fine, so I didn't want to worry you."

"Worry? Really? Do you know how worried I was when they said Sukuna was there?"

"Honey, you know I'm strong. I can face him."

Itadori looks to his new comrade, Fushiguru, to see if he was uncomfortable to watch the couple argue in front of them. He fails to be consoled when he sees Megumi wasison his phone nonchalantly as if nothing's wrong. Yuuji assumes Megumi was just tuning them out as a student being used to teachers bickering, so he decides to try to do the same. But it's not working.

"I don't care about your strength, I care about Megumi, and I care about the lives of those students, and-"

"Hey, Fushiguru?" Itadori says, and Megumi hums in response. "Is this normal?"

"-they were put at risk, Satoru! Do you understand that?"

With the couple continuing to argue in the background, Megumi looks up from his phone finally, answering, "Huh, this? Yeah. Get used to it. He's an idiot."

"Yes, baby, I understand, but I made a judgement call and I stand by that. I'm sorry-"

"Ah. Well, um. Can we leave? Do we have to stay?"

"-for not keeping you informed, but I promise you, I had it under control."

"Yeah. They won't even notice we're gone until one of them asks for our opinion and then they notice we're missing. It's just funny to watch them sometimes."

"The higher ups want to execute him! An innocent kid! And I know you got sweets in the middle of all of that. Are you serious-"

"You're used to this?" Itadori inquires, a naturally curious kid.

"-ly telling me that nothing different could have been done to prevent this?"

"I guess you could say that."

rawrrrr thank u for reading i love you SMMMM i loved writing this hehee <33333

[llamagoddessofficial]

A little indulgent, venty drabble.

~~~

Your bedroom door opened. You were absolutely certain you had locked it. Alarmed, you shot up in bed, looking to the entrance to see who was intruding on you when your mood was so crushingly terrible.

It was Nightmare. He had a weird expression on his face, he looked very... calm. Calm was weird for him. He was the last person you expected to see.

... Also probably one of the last people you wanted to see.

"What're you doing?" you snapped. "Get out of my room."

His voice was low. "is everything alright?"

"Uh. Yeah." Perhaps you sounded more hostile than you needed to. You were glaring. "Everything's fine. You can go."

... His lovely cyan eye lingered on you.

...

He did not, in fact, leave. He closed the door behind him.

What the hell? Indignation coursed through you. "I'm seriously fine. Leave me alone."

"no," he said, softly.

You really really didn't have the self control for this, right now. You spent every moment of every day watching your words, taking stock of everything that left your lips, ensuring it wouldn't bother those around you even if it was at your own expense. Right now, you were fraying at the edges. You did not have the energy.

"Nightmare. Go away. I want to be alone right now."

He started walking toward you. He looked so calm. He looked like he understood exactly what was going on.

Anger flashed inside you, oil catching in a pan, it spittled and flew to your lips. You did not understand what was going on, and you didn't like feeling stupid.

"Get the fuck out of my room!"

"no."

“What the hell is your problem!?" You leaned forward, voice raising, like a cat raising its hackles. "You want to come watch me at my lowest? Point and laugh, rub it in? Real fucking mature of you.”

He didn't take the anger bait. "no." 

Stars, something was really wrong with you today, because his lidded socket and soothing voice just utterly infuriated you.

“Get out!” you yelled.

He didn't respond. He just looked like he cared.

You picked up the nearest weighted thing - your matte plastic water bottle - and threw it at him as hard as you could. He paused, but only to let the bottle literally just bounce off him... it hit his chest and thudded to the floor, rolling away plaintively.

You were probably acting more like a toddler than a grown adult human right now. But you were out of self control. Out of anything, really. Tired and cranky.

“Fuck off! Leave me alone!”

"it's okay."

What? When he started approaching again, you picked up another heavy object to throw, this time it was your bedside lamp. You were shocking yourself with your own bad behaviour. When you launched that at him, a tentacle curled in the air and caught it, setting it carefully down on the floor and not even interrupting his stride.

“Go bother someone else! I’m not a child!”

Honestly? You left that one open for him. You wanted him to make the most of the opportunity to insult you - maybe he’d say something sharp like “not a child? you sure are acting like one.” Something that would bring you back into territory you felt safe in. You didn't like the way he was looking at you, the way you were the only one yelling but he looked so empathetic and gentle. You wanted some control.

“it’s alright,” he murmured. “you can say what you need to. i know you don’t mean it.”

“What - what the fuck are you talking about?!”  

Nightmare sat beside you, cross-legged on your bed. And before you could do a thing, his extremely dexterous tentacles curled around you; and pulled you in, until you were sitting between his legs.

Oh, you were furious. You weren't even sure what you were yelling, but you were definitely yelling something. If you had been a cat raising your hackles before, now you had your claws out, you were scratching and biting and yowling. You kicked at him, you slapped at his chest, you shoved him like that would do anything.

... He didn't say a thing. His arms rested on either of his knees, and a tentacle carefully brushed your back. You kept hitting him. You ...

... You started to run out of steam. Your 'hits' on his chest became weaker, feebler, until you weren't really hitting him anymore. You were just bumping your enclosed fist against his sternum. The water bottle from before probably did more damage than you were doing now.

...

... You hiccuped.

And then you just started to bawl.

Nightmare clearly had anticipated this all along. He leaned down, face closer to your level, like he wanted you to know he was there. Your head thumped against his shoulder, where it remained, sobs wracking your entire body. He didn’t interrupt. He just let you cry - getting it all out. 

Part of you wanted to be embarrassed. Assaulting him and then wailing right there in his lap. But oh... there was something so wonderful about acting your absolute worst, and yet, not being abandoned. You worked so hard to be liked; every day, you did everything you could to be the kind of person that the people around you would enjoy. So much so that you had no idea what was left, underneath all of the personalities you'd stitched together to make a quilt people would like looking at.

Nightmare had just watched you scream at the top of your lungs, then sob with anything you had left. And yet? He was still there.

By the time your crying quietened down, his eyelight was glowing a little brighter. A little bluer. You weren’t sure what that meant.

“... I-I...” you rubbed your eyes with your sleeve as best you could. Your voice was horrendously hoarse and thin. “I didn’t... mean...”

“i know,” he said, warmly. Sitting this close, you could hear how his voice thrummed from within his chest, not really his mouth. Knowing his lecherous and borderline evil personality, you thought that basically sitting on his lap would've felt different. Risky, perhaps. Right now, it didn't - you felt comforted. The good kind of surrounded.

"I'm sorry."

“don't be. if there’s anyone who would know when anger is a cry for help, it’s me.”

You kept your head on his shoulder. "I shouldn't have hit you."

He tilted his face to you a little more. He was so close - inches away. You could feel his breathing. “honestly? i incited you, in the hopes you would. you just wanted to be angry. everyone deserves to feel angry, every now and then.”

“It doesn’t always feel like it is okay," you muttered.

"anger isn't something to be ashamed of. anger protects you. it tells you when your lines have been crossed."

"How can I be angry, without hurting people? If you were anyone else, I would've really hurt you."

"i'm afraid there's no easy answer to that, dear."

You looked up at him. “How did you know I didn't want to be left alone?”

"did you forget i can read emotions?"

Ah. True. You always forgot Nightmare wasn't just any old skeleton. He was some kind of God, wasn't he? A deity of negativity. He probably read everything going on in your mind the moment it arose.

"I kinda did, yeah."

His socket crinkled at the corner. “i felt what you wanted. heh, that, and... i know your insults well enough to know your heart wasn’t in those.”

You couldn’t help but let out a tiny watery snicker, at that. He seemed to like it. 

“... Thank you." You brought your legs up to your chest, tucking closer against him. "For... for not leaving.”

He finally put his arms around you.

“of course.”

[lyrefromthesea]

Hello! I was wondering if I could please request the Hashiras taking reader to a summer festival? I love a good fluffy seasonal scenario lol thank you🫶❤️ I love your writing style and can’t wait to see what you come up with!!

Hashira x Reader - Summer Festival

author's note: sadly i did not manage to imagine Shinobu in this scenario, for the sake of not misinterpreting her character, i decided to leave her out of my post. i apologize and hope you'll get to enjoy the other pillars.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader, Mitsuri x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

you cocked your eyebrow at Tengen when he made a loud noise, imitating the sound of a buzzer telling you that you're in the wrong.

"what is it?" you ask, more than confused and mildly annoyed. he wore his hair down today, multiple pieces of jewelry making him stand out more than the other visitors.

"your outfit, it's good, but it could be better!" he claimed, pointing at the yukata you were wearing. you looked down at yourself, almost feeling a bit insulted by his words. it was rather simple, but you thought it would be enough.

"you need something more flashy!" he said, making you sigh. now you understood what he meant, his hands already on your shoulders, leading you to the next accessory stand.

"and what would that be?" you asked back, watching the people around you look confused by the man dragging you around.

"we need something showing off your beauty even more, beautiful." he deducted, stopping when you finally looked down on the beautiful jewelry.

this wasn't how you planned to start the festival, but you couldn't complain when he managed to fluster you once again.

Obanai:

"i'm sure we were supposed to meet here.." you mumbled, looking around the area. when Obanai invited you to the summer festival, he had explicitly asked for a spot without many people.

now you felt lost, you were sure he should've been here by now. it wasn't like he was late, but he usually came earlier than planned when you two wanted to meet somewhere.

before you could worry about his wellbeing, you saw something slither near your foot - Kaburamaru. the snake made it's way around your ankle, making you shiver.

"Obanai!" you scolded, looking around until your eyes stopped on a tree. you marched towards it, not surprised when you saw Obanai sitting on a thick branch.

"you could've said you were already here!" you said, watching him jump down the tree and land on his feet without much trouble.

"i'm sorry, i got distracted.." he admitted, your features slowly relaxing. he had been distracted? you found yourself asking him for more information. "for what?"

he looked at you, his eyes drifting to your outfit and then back to your face. his gaze softened, looking towards the festival's lights.

"nothing important.." if only you would've known he had been occupied watching your beautiful body, soft eyes trying to spot your lover.

Rengoku:

"excuse me?" another man said, his eyes fixed on you. naturally, you turned to face him, wondering if he needed help.

you had been walking through the crowds with Rengoku a moment prior, watching the different people interact with each other.

"i just wanted to say that your yukata fits you extremely well." the man said, almost appearing a bit bashful. and suddenly you weren't surprised anymore, realizing he didn't need help.

did it not look like Rengoku was your boyfriend? you wondered whether the man not knew or was bold enough to ask despite the obvious.

"you are right, my love is indeed beautiful in every way! it's not the festival alone, but every other day as well!" Rengoku answered, as if he didn't realize what kind of situation this was.

the man's face fell, realizing he had probably made a mistake by approaching you - at least while Rengoku was near. he soon turned away with a grumble, leaving the two of you alone.

"what a nice man!" Rengoku concluded, making you chuckle, looking away from him.

he really didn't know what the man's goal was. however, that somehow made Rengoku's compliment even sweeter.

Sanemi:

you were walking past the different stands with Sanemi, chatting about random topics that came to your mind, when he turned away from you, seemingly having spotted something interesting.

"wait here." he said, marching off before you even managed to ask what happened. you tried looking over the crowd, wondering where he had wandered off to.

not able to see him, you decided to do as he said, patiently waiting for him to return, yet you wondered what must've happened.

you didn't expect him to come back with something in hand, almost looking a bit flustered now. he moved past the crowd until he finally stood next to you again.

"i remembered you like them." he told you, extending his hand. you looked at the cut pieces of watermelon in his hand, neatly placed on a small rectangular plate.

he had gone out of his way to buy something you like from one of the booths.

"Sanemi.." you mumbled, slowly taking the plate out of his hand. your eyes stayed on the watermelon for a moment, glancing at him when you managed to answer.

"let's search for a nice spot and eat them there." you said, smiling at him in content. he nodded silently, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked off.

Giyuu:

"damn it..!" you complained, seeing the small plastic fish fall off your miniature fishing rod. you gave up the small festival game, standing up again.

Giyuu looked at your sulking form, his eyes glancing at the prize sat in the festival booth. you had looked really happy when you saw it earlier, it hurt him to see that you weren't able to win it.

"let me try." he quietly said, giving the salesman another 500 yen. neither you nor the salesman would've expected Giyuu to be so good at the game though.

"you can stop now!" the man whined, seeing Giyuu get the last fish. there had probably been a dozen in total, but he didn't mess up once.

Giyuu looked at the man, standing up from his kneeling position to claim his reward. "my prize?"

"you can have it.." the man sobbed, handing Giyuu the prize you had grown so fond of earlier. without another word, Giyuu turned around to hand you the small gift.

"for you." he merely said, putting the small object into your hands. you awed at his actions, immediately throwing yourself against him.

"thank you, Giyuu!" you cheered, watching him hold you in surprise. he couldn't possibly ignore the little things that made you happy when he was rewarded with this kind of reaction.

Gyomei:

"are you sure? i'm not good with words." you told him, looking down at your hands. the two of you sat on the meadow, other couples sitting in the distance.

"you'll do good." he answered, placing a supporting hand on top of yours. you silently nodded, his encouragement always working wonders on you.

when you watched the first firework shooting into the air, exploding with a loud bang, you stared in fascination, eventually shaking your head to snap out of it.

you thought of a fitting way to describe it, knowing that colors wouldn't do for him. you decided to try a different approach, looking at the man you adored.

"it looked exactly the way a summer breeze felt. warm and somehow familiar." you told him, watching his lips pull up into a smile. you felt your heart beat harder than before.

you would've liked to comment on it, but the next firework was too fast for you. you watched the sky light up in a refreshing green color, feeling Gyomei scoot closer.

"and this one?"

Mitsuri:

"the sakura mochi here is so good!" Mitsuri cheered, pushing another one of the treats past her lips. she munched on the sweet food, swallowing it down in satisfaction.

you chuckled at her words and actions, taking one of the mochis and biting into it. "it is, the flavor is really good."

"another bowl please!" Mitsuri called out, turning your head to see the chef nod at the two of you. she had even stood up, waving her arm at the woman making her favorite food.

you looked at Mitsuri's clothes, the pink cloth she was wearing matching her hair and the sakura mochi perfectly. somehow she was fitting for this place.

you placed the empty bowl of sakura mochi on the other bowls, watching the stack grow. she had already eaten 7 bowls, but you guessed she was long from finished.

you two chatted as the chef brought you another portion, smiling at the two of you and walking away again.

"i'm full, you can eat that portion alone." you answered, a small smile on your face. Mitsuri looked surpised, putting the treat down again.

"we can go too, i don't mind..!" she said, wanting to show you that she wouldn't keep you here. you could only laugh in response, shaking your head.

"i really don't mind either, if you want, we can even get you another bowl." you answered, watching her eyes light up. a bright smile formed on her face, nodding in agreement.

you smiled back, after all, the festival felt better this way.