#how did I not notice this on the first watch

[godsfavdarling]

waiting for the day to end

my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader summary: You and Spencer come back to his apartment, and your boyfriend’s drunken state brings old wounds to the surface. words: 2,3k warnings: angst, panic attack, drunk Spencer, mentions reader's ex-bf who was an alcoholic, no y/n a/n: I'm imagining later seasons Spence but I am not gonna yuck anybody's yum!

You smoothly place the keys in the lock of his apartment and quickly turn them twice to unlock the door. The dark room abruptly brightens when you flick the light switch on.

Spencer, who has been leaning against the wall near you, stumbles into the room right behind you.

The door slams shut behind him, the thud reverberating through the room.

You flinch, spinning around at the jarring sound.

“Sorry,” Spencer mumbles, a bit unsteady.

He throws himself onto the armchair with a heavy sigh, his head lolling back as he closes his eyes.

You murmur under your breath, “I���ll get you some water,” and head toward the kitchen, your heels clacking against the floor. 

In the quiet, you take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before filling two glasses of water. 

When you bring them back, you hand one to Spencer, urging him to drink. He gulps it down immediately, nearly draining the glass in one go.

You’ve never really seen him like this.

Spencer rarely—almost never—drinks. But tonight, it’s obvious just how far gone he is. He’s coherent enough to hold himself up, and his words still make sense, but you can tell he isn’t fully present. 

He was already fading hours ago, just an hour into dinner at Rossi's when his team had convinced him to relax and celebrate Garcia’s birthday with a few drinks.

Now, he’s staring off into space, eyes glassy, a faint smile still lingering from whatever joke had last drifted through his mind. You swallow, feeling the anxiety tug at you.

You felt it early on. But you tried to ignore it.

Spencer was different. 

He was responsible and careful. He liked being sober and in control. He was someone who avoided excess.

He was not a drunk. 

You knew all this and tried to stay rational. 

After his third drink, though, all that rationality flew out the window. With the last gulp of his third drink, you decided to excuse yourself, claiming you weren't feeling well, and spent most of the evening outside. The poker game was so intense that no one really questioned you or bothered to check on you.

You had thought, knowing Spencer’s sharp observation skills, that he would come find you shortly and ask what was wrong. He always did. He could always tell when something was off and always wanted to know. But tonight, he didn’t.

You waited, each minute stretching longer than the last, hoping he’d realize and come find you, that he’d be his usual self. But as the laughter and clinking glasses carried on from inside, you realized he was somewhere you couldn’t reach him tonight.

As you watched him now, slouched in the armchair with you far away from him sitting on the edge of the couch, your heart ached. 

This wasn’t the Spencer you knew. He was lost in his thoughts, barely acknowledging your presence. You handed him your glass of water, and he took it with a mumbled "thanks", sipping it more slowly this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” you finally asked, unable to keep the concern out of your voice.

He looked up at you, his eyes a bit clearer but still distant. “Yeah, just... tired,” he replied, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You nodded, but the anxiety still sat inside you.

Stop!

Spencer is not him! 

He is nothing like him!

You keep staring at him, fidgeting with your fingers and the hem of your black velvet dress, feeling helpless as you try to guess what he wants. 

Is he going to stay here for a while? Does he need more water? Is he going to shower, or maybe just head to bed?

Finally, Spencer glances up, his gaze focusing on you as if for the first time tonight. His brows knit together as he notices the anxious look in your eyes. 

"What’s wrong?" he asks, his voice soft but tinged with confusion.

You swallow, feeling a rush of emotions you’ve been holding back all evening. He’s looking at you now, really looking, like he usually does, but something about his unsteady, drunken state makes you hesitate. 

He’s here, yet somehow not fully here, and you’re not sure how to answer.

You force a smile, shrugging as if it’s nothing, but your heart pounds. "Just… tired, I guess."

Spencer’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you know he sees through your answer, even in his state. 

Now he sees. 

He’s silent, watching you with a slight frown like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. The quiet stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You glance away, twisting the hem of your dress tighter. 

"Maybe you should get some rest," you say, your voice barely more than a whisper. You try to keep the tremor out, but it’s there. A lot of it.

He’s never seen you like this—not this vulnerable, this close to tears. You’ve not been dating that long. A lot of things are still unknown, unsaid, unshared and the toxic, drunk but highly functioning, unpredictable boyfriends have not yet come out in any conversation.

"I’ll be fine," Spencer mutters, rubbing his face with one hand as he sinks further into the chair.

His words are gentle, but they’re not the reassurance you’re aching for. 

You wish he’d tell you he’d never do this again, that he understands why this is hard for you. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, distant and hazy.

A lump forms in your throat as the silence presses down on you. You stand up, needing some distance, and force a tight smile. "I’ll let you get some sleep. I’ll go… take a walk or something."

As you turn to leave, Spencer reaches out, his fingers brushing your arm. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft but unsteady. "It’s like 2 AM. You’re not going anywhere alone."

You stop, frozen, a tightness forming in your chest. You want to say it’s fine, that you just need space, but the words feel like they’re stuck in your throat. Instead, he continues, unaware of how badly his presence is affecting you right now.

“Let’s take a walk together. It’ll help,” he offers, his voice tinged with concern, though still a little slurred.

You turn sharply, frustration and something darker bubbling up in your chest. “No!” you snap, louder than you intended, the word echoing in the quiet room. You instantly regret it, but the hurt is too raw, too overwhelming. You try to swallow the sudden surge of emotion, but it’s too much.

You finally realize that his hand in on your arm, and the realization hits like a cold wave. You feel an intense rush of discomfort. You don’t want him near you right now. 

The feeling of his fingers on your skin, even though they’re meant to comfort, feels wrong.

You can’t breathe. You can’t handle his touch, not like this, not after everything that’s happened. You jerk away, backing up, your heart hammering.

Without a word, you turn and storm toward the bathroom. You lock the door behind you and lean against it for a second, trying to steady your breath. 

The walls feel like they’re closing in, the anger and fear swirling inside you until you can hardly tell the difference between the two.

It’s not his fault, you think, taking a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside your chest.

He’s just drunk, he’ll be sober soon, but... why does it still feel so wrong?

You press your hands to your face, feeling the tears already starting to form.

I’m not that person anymore. I’m not going to let this take me back. I can’t let it.

Your thoughts race, but you force yourself to focus, turning the shower on. The sound of the water helps. 

You quickly but clumsily step out of the dress and underwear, leaving them in a heap on the tiles. 

You step under the hot spray, closing your eyes, letting the warmth soothe the tension in your muscles.

Just wash it off, just wash it off, you tell yourself as if the water could cleanse more than just your skin.

You’re lost in the sensation of the water for long minutes when there’s a gentle knock on the bathroom door. 

You freeze. Your heart skipping a beat.

“Hey… uh… I really need to pee,” Spencer calls out, his voice even softer than before.

You swallow, fighting the panic rising in your throat, and quickly shut off the water. You wrap a towel around your body and open the door just enough for you to slip past him. Without a word, you go into the bedroom and gracelessly put on one of the shirts you left in his drawer.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow everything will be fine, you think, climbing into bed, curling up under the covers. 

You just want this day to end. You need it to end.

Then it hits you—you’re in his bed.

You stand up and then sit again on the edge.

You should go home. You should be in your own bed. You want to get up, gather your things, get dressed, and leave, but you're paralyzed. You're overwhelmed. You can’t breathe. You can’t move.

Then Spencer walks into the room, his gaze landing on you. As if he can read the turmoil in your mind, he says softly, "It's late. Stay here tonight. Take the bed. I’ll take the couch."

You don’t say anything, unable to find the words.

He pauses, watching you for a moment, before quietly pulling his pajamas from the closet and heading into the bathroom.

You just need to sleep. You’ll sleep it off, and when you wake up, things will make sense again. Maybe Spencer will apologize. 

Apologize for what?

He didn’t do anything wrong.

He’ll be sober. Everything will go back to normal.

But sleep doesn’t come. The bed feels cold, and the silence in the room is suffocating. You can’t shake the thoughts in your head.

What if he doesn’t remember?

What if he won’t leave it and you’ll have to explain and he’ll be angry?

Why are you angry?

Why are you upset?

Just as you're about to give up on sleep altogether, you hear the soft creak of the door opening. Spencer slips into the room quietly, his footsteps hesitant. He walks to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying anything at first.

"Are you asleep?" he asks quietly, his voice gentle, almost too careful. You feel his gaze on you, even though you’re facing the window, your back to him.

You don’t answer at first. You don’t want to talk to him right now. You don’t want to explain why everything feels broken. You don’t want him to ask.

But you can feel him there, his presence. 

Finally, he speaks again, his voice low but steady. “Please... can we talk? I don't wanna go to bed with you upset and angry.”

You don’t move, staring into the dark. You wish you could say the right thing. You wish you could fix it, but all you feel is a dull ache in your chest, and the thought that maybe nothing will ever be the same again.

Spencer’s hand reaches out, his fingers trembling slightly as he hesitates for a moment before gently moving toward you. "Hey, I—" His voice cracks, and you can hear the sorrow in it, the regret, the helplessness.

But as his arms come closer, something inside you recoils. You can’t have him near you right now. Not like this. Not when everything feels so wrong.

You flinch, turning away from him instinctively, the words coming out before you even have a chance to stop them. “Please don’t touch me.”

The words hang between you like a heavyweight. 

Spencer freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air, and for a second, everything is still. You can hear his breathing — shallow, uneven — as if he’s trying to understand, trying to process what just happened.

You don’t want him to feel hurt, but you can’t help it. You feel exposed, vulnerable, like a raw nerve, and his touch, even if it's meant to comfort, feels suffocating.

“Okay,” Spencer finally says, his voice small, resigned. He pulls his hand back slowly, as though giving you space to breathe. 

You don’t look at him. You can’t. 

“I’m sorry,” he adds, his voice distant now, like he’s trying to find his footing again. “I just... I’m not sure what happened. I know hurt you. I don’t know how but I’m sorry.”

The silence lingers, thick and uncomfortable, wrapping itself around both of you. Spencer hesitates for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say next. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t lift yours. 

Finally, he clears his throat softly.

“I’ll... I’ll sleep on the couch tonight,” he says, his voice gentle and careful like he’s trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

“It’s okay. If you want to talk... or anything... just come and tell me. I’ll be here.”

You don’t say anything. You still don’t look at him. But you can hear the sincerity in his voice, the aching honesty of it.

If only his words, his willingness to be there even when you’ve pushed him away could make things better.

But you don’t answer him, because you don’t have the strength to. You don’t know what to say.

Spencer sighs quietly, almost like a final surrender, and then you hear his footsteps moving away from you.

The door opens and closes softly behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence of the room once more.

Spencer’s words echo in your mind, but they don’t bring comfort. Not yet. 

[talaok]

Give up

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: Once again you've found an excuse to invite your neighbor over, except for once you might be able to make him look past your age difference and have a little fun.

Warnings: big ass unspecified age gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie and he's nervous and he's not so very sure about this bc of how old he is + he's out of practice. smut| oral (m and f receiving) and swallowing you know what. sub!Joel vibez all around

This wasn't anything new.

The fact that he was coming over wasn't at all surprising to either of you.

You always found a way to be around him, and no matter how he ignored your every attempt at flirting- he never said no.

It had taken all of two minutes.

You'd knocked on his door, your best little skirt and tight little top on, and faked a pout as you told him:

"There's something wrong with the shower again Mr. Miller"

To his defense, Joel really tried not to stare at your ass as you walked right in front of him to guide him to your house, but that fucking skirt seemed more of a joke than anything.

You both knew there was nothing wrong with your shower, the switch that granted the hot water had just mysteriously turned itself off once again.

This had been going on for months now, since he first arrived in Jackson... since you knocked at his door that one chilly morning to introduce yourself to your new neighbor-

All it took was one look, and you were hooked.

He was gonna be yours.

"there- 's hot" he nodded, shutting the water off once he'd made sure it worked properly again, before drying his hands on his pants.

"thank you so much Joel" you smiled wider than necessary "What can I do to thank you?"

And no, you didn't even try to make your words not sound dirty, quite the opposite actually.

He cleared his throat, his eyes breaking from yours in a nervous shift.

You always did that- had this annoying effect on him.

"'s nothing darlin'" he shook his head, "didn't even take five minutes"

"Still- I feel like I owe you," you said, biting down a smirk

Shitshitshit

"How 'bout some cake?" you suggested just as he was about to have a stroke.

"sounds good"

__ __ __

"'s real good darlin'"

"thank you" you smiled happily, watching him clear his plate in under a minute

Yeah... you were a great baker, what can I say

"you want another slice?"

"You spoil me sugar," he laughed, patting his belly "I can't"

"alright" You couldn't help but softly laugh as you placed his plate in the sink.

You caught him looking away just as you turned around, which made you smile to yourself, a smile that only widened when you noticed the chocolate on the corner of his mouth.

"Oh Joel"

"Mh?"

You sat beside him at the table, your legs brushing against one another as you leaned closer.

"You've got something... right here"

You swiped the chocolate off with your pointer finger, making a show of popping it into your mouth to clean it.

His eyes remained transfixed on you as your tongue licked your digit clean until you were finally done with a loud pop.

"Jesus"

"What?" you smirked, knowing exactly what  "that gave you some ideas?"

"babygirl-" he stopped you immediately, shaking his head

"Oh c'mon Joel" you pouted, your hand going to rest on his forearm "What's a girl gotta do to get you to give up?"

He blinked, looking at you intently and nervously altogether.

"Why do ya even care about an old man like me sweetie?"

You couldn't help but laugh "Have you ever looked in a mirror, Joel?"

You swore you saw pink flood his cheeks- the man was blushing.

"Plus you're kind... and funny when you want to.... and you make me feel-" you bit your lip, trying to find the right word "safe... you make me feel safe"

He scratched his beard, but you couldn't help but notice he hadn't used the arm your hand was still on.

"'m sure there's boys here that are funnier and kinder and make you feel even safer babygirl" he spoke gently "Pretty sure most of them are prayin' you give 'em a chance actually"

You hummed, raising a brow

"but what if I don't want them?"

"You want an old man instead?" he huffed out a self-deprecating laugh.

You rolled your eyes "How old even are you?"

"old enough to be your father darlin'"

God, maybe there was something wrong with you, but those words only made your need for him burn harder.

"so?"

"so I ain't even supposed to look your way babygirl- it ain't right"

"But why?" you pouted "Shouldn't I get to have a say in what's right and wrong for me?"

He sighed, not really knowing what to answer to that.

"What if I don't care?" you spoke softly, your pointer finger on his chest, circling his pec "What if I like you, Joel? what if I wanted to show you just how much right now?"

"sweetheart" he started, shaking his head

"You'd stop me?"

And there it was, the pause... your way in.

"Joel?" you called for him, your voice sickly sweet "Would you?"

He couldn't do anything but tell the truth when you were looking at him like that.

"I don't think any man in his right mind could or would ever stop you darlin'"

Satisfaction took over your whole body.

"no?" you teased, grinning like a cat "Not even if he's old enough to be my father?"

He sighed, what looked like resignation in his eyes.

"I'm just a man sweetheart"

And that- that got him the biggest smirk ever known to man.

There was no sound, it was like the word got quiet as you stood up, placed your hands on his thighs, and slowly kneeled between his legs.

He didn't know what to do, he was genuinely frozen, torn between guilt and attraction, the need to let go, to finally do this- that his brain was short-circuiting.

You took advantage of his silence, making quick work of his zipper, and pulling down his boxers just enough to free his cock...

All your speculations got proven right there- he was huge.

"oh wow," you bit down a grin as you watched your fingers struggle to wrap around his whole base.

You gave him a tentative squeeze, and the strained groan rumbling from his chest was just about the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"y-you- f-fuck"

You stopped him before he could start protesting, your tongue sliding slowly on his tip before leaving a little kiss right on top.

"You're so big" you hummed, your tongue licking him up from base to head, feeling every vein and twitch of his member.

He was looking down at you just as you looked at him, and he seemed... mesmerized, like he couldn't believe this was really happening, that this wasn't another one of the dreams he'd get about you at night, and that it was really your lips wrapping around him.

Goddamnit

You had barely a little more than his tip in your mouth and he was already gone- and I mean gone gone.

He couldn't even remember why he'd spent so long ignoring your not-so-subtle hints-

Just a minute ago he wanted to tell you that no, you don't gotta do that, and ask you sure about this? - But now... now all he could do was throw his head back as he realized that his lack of practice these past few years had really gotten to him, and that he already had to grab at the chair beneath him with all his strength as he tried not to come embarrassingly fast.

You hummed around his cock, and he couldn't stop his hips from thrusting upwards, a small choking sound fleeing your throat.

"goddamnit, 'm sorry baby-"

But the moment he looked down at you, he saw everything but anger... you seemed happy- you were begging him to do it again with your eyes.

But he couldn't, and part of you already knew that.

He shook his head slowly, still trying to think as straight as he could given the situation, but while he was busy with that... you settled for the next best thing... you forced his manhood down your throat all on your own.

The groan he let out was damn near feral.

You couldn't actually get all of it down there, it was the biggest dick you'd ever seen in your life after all, but you swore that with a little bit of practice (that he'd hopefully grant you), you'd get there.

Still, he didn't really seem bothered or in any way disappointed by your inability.

It was an indescribable feeling seeing this tough, rugged man shiver with pleasure before you, his eyes shut and knuckles white with the effort of gripping onto something.

"I- fuck"

He didn't even know what he wanted to say, he just... it felt so fucking good

Your head was back on bobbing up and down his length, and what used to be groans had turned to moans coming out of his mouth.

"Y-you've gotta-" he swallowed, his sentence interrupted by the feeling of your fingers playing with his balls.

"Y-you've got t-" to stop

But you were choking on his girth again

"I-'m gonna-" come

You watched him struggle with his words, his breathing, and his self-control with what would have been a huge smirk on your face if your mouth hadn't been so preoccupied.

You knew he was about to come already, it really wasn't hard to understand,

You also knew that if you stopped now there was a chance you'd get to do more later- but really, this was something too perfect to leave halfway done, and besides... you feared that if you went with your initial plan of straddling his lap and riding the man to heaven, you'd leave him traumatized.

So you didn't stop, you kept massaging his balls as you worked his dick in and out your mouth, ever so often forcing him as deep as you could and choking while drool and saliva dripped down your chin.

"J-Jesus, sweetheart- I-"

All his words came out in rugged breaths, barely coherent- his eyes were back on you, shadows of lust and need darkening his iris as his right hand went to your cheek, a gesture almost too sweet considering what you were doing.

"F-fuck"

And that was it.

He groaned so loud you probably could hear him from outside the house as he reached his climax, rope after rope of his come filling your mouth and throat.

Joel Miller had come in your mouth... and it couldn't have been any more perfect.

You didn't take your eyes off him for one second. You greedily swallowed all his spent as he breathed heavily, eyes still closed.

His dick was softening in your hand as you pulled his boxers back on top of it, a little wave of disappointment washing over your gut.

It's ok, I'll see it again soon

Just as you were plotting exactly how you were gonna get in his pants in the future, his voice startled you

"I-I don't know what to say"

A soft smile pulled at your lips

"You don't have to say anything" you reassured him as you sat back on your chair, your eyes inevitably falling back to where his boxers peeked from the unfasted fly.

"now- I won't keep you hostage any longer, 'm sure you have important stuff to do back at your house"

The frowns on his forehead deepened as his eyebrows came together in confusion.

"What?"

Now you were confused.

"I'm just saying- thank you for... this" You bit down a smile "You know how long I've been wanting it- and you can bet your ass we're doing it and more, again and again, and again" his eyes widened an almost imperceptible amount and you had to stifle a laugh "but... I'm letting you free for tonight"

He took his time to say something.

Silence wrapped around you for a good minute before he was able to mumble something.

"sweetheart-" he cleared his throat to try and clear his thoughts "I-I dunno how you're used to... bein' treated, but this ain't over"

A spark of excitement ignited in your belly

He couldn't mean...

"unless you want it to be, of course"

Oh my

"I definitely don't want it to be" you hastily spoke, almost breathless "but I would like to know what you... mean"

I mean, not to be prejudiced, but you very much doubted he could get it up again so quickly given his... well, age.

He cleared his throat again and you finally realized it was just a nervous tic and he didn't actually feel the need to.

"You should be on a bed" he avoided your question

You couldn't help but smile as you got up

"Such a gentleman"

"that's the last word that comes to mind right now" was all he grumbled

__ __ __

"sit"

that's all he said, and now there you were, sitting on your bed as he looked at you with a mix of lust and uncertainty.

Until he finally did it- he crouched between your legs.

He cleared his throat again, and you felt on the urge of cumbusting.

he was gonna eat you out

You'd only ever done this once, and even then you had to basically beg the guy, just for him to be god-awful at it.

Somehow you had a feeling Joel wasn't gonna be bad at all.

"You sure about this, yeah?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

He could probably ask you to put it up your ass and you'd say yes.

"Yes Joel, I'm 100% positive"

He gave you a little nod, and his hands- his big, strong hands- went to your thighs.

You watched him as if he'd disappear at any moment as he slowly- oh so very slowly- took your skirt off.

He swallowed tightly as his eyes fell on your clothed cunt.

If you didn't know any better you would have guessed he was holding his breath as he got rid of your panties.

"Jesus Christ"

I shouldn't be doing this- I really shouldn't be fucking doing this.

She's not even half my age- she's a kid for god's sake- I'm fucking disgustin-

Every single thought in his mind turned to dust the moment you spread your legs- the moment your wet, drenched, pussy came fully into view.

"Y-you-"

he didn't even remember what he wanted to say- and he didn't remember when his thumb had decided to find your folds, but it had.

He heard a whimper leave your mouth and he felt his cock twitch in his pants, hardening again.

It usually took him a whole fucking hour to get hard again

He looked up at you, and you looked hotter than ever before.

Your cheeks were flushed, your bottom lip was between your teeth, and you looked so... perfect.

"I haven't done this in a- while"

As he spoke those words he hoped you'd think he only meant this... as if you'd actually care about how he hadn't gotten laid in years.

"'s ok Joel" you nodded, smiling encouragingly.

He swallowed again, his gaze slowly lowering.

He couldn't believe you were this wet for him- a pretty thing like you.

His thumb moved, gently sliding up and up and up, until he found your clit, earning another little moan.

Fuck

He circled the little bud, and your cries got a little higher and he swore- he swore going to hell was worth it, worth this.

He had to taste you- fuck, he'd been dreaming about the taste of you since he first saw you- So with all the carefulness in the word, he bent down, his lips finding your soft thighs.

He could see your belly inflate and deflate with your exited breaths as he kissed his way closer and closer to your heat, until he was right there, and he couldn't help but leave a kiss on your mound, on the hair covering it so very nicely.

"Joel-" your voice was strangled "please"

If it had been twenty years ago he would have said something cocky like "'s ok baby, it's coming", his whole demeanor would have been very different too. He used to be in charge in the bedroom, always- he used to feel smug and sure of himself, but now... now he was old and out of practice, and he was... he was nervous.

But all it took was to look up at you, at those beautiful pleading eyes, to find the courage.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And you tasted better than he could have ever fucking imagined.

A deep, feral groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue passed between your folds, as he gathered all your slickness on his taste buds, all that sweet sweet juice that felt like fucking heaven.

Yeah, now I remember why I used to love this so much

You were moaning like a desperate little thing above him, your thighs squeezing his face as your feet clung to his torso.

And he was gripping the outside of your legs, keeping you as close to him as humanly possible, his face as deep in your core as it would go.

His nose was rubbing against your clit in a way that made you see stars, and he was still lapping, not focusing on anywhere in particular, just aimlessly and desperately feeding off of you.

"Oh my god Joel-" you gasped as two of his fingers found their way inside of you.

His movements were slow, he didn't wanna hurt you, and he wanted to find what made you feel good, which is why he kept exploring until his digits curled up into that sweet cushy part of you, and he felt you squeeze him as you threw your head back.

"f-fuck!"

Your left hand had traveled to his locks, gripping them tightly as your hips frantically moved against his face to try and seek more.

His mouth was focusing only on your clit now, thoroughly sucking on it- and just when you thought this couldn't get any better, that this was the most pleasure you'd ever experienced and there was no way he would be able to top this- another one of his big, thick fingers pushed into you.

The cry you let out was something Joel would be thinking of until he was six feet under.

Three of his fingers were so much more than what you were used to.

"J-Joel" you whimpered actual tears staining your vision as you looked down at him "Oh my fucking g-god Joel"

Your gut had been right. He was really fucking good at this

He was watching you, studying every little face you made as the squelching of his fingers moving inside of you filled the room together with your moans.

"I-I'm coming"

You could barely finish the sentence that the world went bright, and the purest pleasure you'd ever felt erupted in your body with a million different blasts.

For a whole minute, you were in another universe- and Joel eagerly enjoyed the show, not stopping his movements for even a fraction of a second.

You feared the moment you opened your eyes you'd wake up in your bed after yet another dream about this man- and yet he was still here, looking up at you with only adoration in his eyes.

He couldn't help but steal another little kiss on your core before he leaned away.

"well... wow" you smiled like an idiot, your breathing still a little labored "You know what you're doing Mr. Miller"

He didn't say anything, but you saw pink flush his cheeks again as he let your legs go, robbing you of his touch.

You would have been disappointed if it wasn't for the fact he was very clearly having trouble not having his gaze fall down to your heat.

You smiled to yourself as you accepted the skirt he quietly handed you.

Seeing you standing before him with it on when he knew you were bare and wet underneath made Joel's brain freeze for a moment, but that was of course, until you stood on your tiptoes, and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"thank you for this Joel"

Your voice was so sweet it sounded angelic to his ears- but the sweetness was replaced by something very different very quickly.

As you stood back down to your normal height, your body, being flushed against Joel's, came in contact with something that very much piqued your interest.

he was hard- very fucking hard

"no babygirl"

he was already shaking his head, crushing all your dreams

"but-"

"I can't" his tone was firm, although you could still hear restraint behind his words, like it was costing him a lot to say no.

"It feels to me like you very much can" you rebutted, smirking softly.

"I- it ain't right"

Oh my god

It took a lot not to roll your eyes "I thought we were past that whole thing" you said, cocking an eyebrow "Do I need to remind you what you were doing just a minute ago?"

"that's different"

"How?"

"it just is"

"what if I beg you Joel?" you purred, your best doe eyes looking up at him "What if I told you about how much I'd like to feel your cock inside of me? How desperate I am for it, Joel- how much I need it"

He was gonna go home and punch himself in the face for what he was about to say.

But it was true, he couldn't. It wasn't right- he needed... to think about it at least

"darlin'" he spoke softly "I can't... not right now"

there it is

The smirk that pulled at your lips was the most mischievous thing in the world.

"right now" you repeated his words, biting your lip as you played with the hem of his flannel "I can live with that- but Joel...don't even think this is over"

[sheep-from-rad]

this is inspired by @luludeluluramblings 's neglected! influencer! **I'll expand this later, I'm eepy**

*I don't own Rät. It belongs to Penelope Scott. Batfam belongs to DC*

Not gonna lie, everytime I read a Yandere Batfam x Neglected Reader (I wish we have more defiant one tbh, i have parental issues and I tell you I will never ever forgive my parents fast. It's my dad's fault I don't know how to ask for help and that everytime he's near me all my danger senses are high up. Ending this here before it becomes a rant/vent lol) all I can hear in my brain is Rät by Penelope Scott

Maybe we can do it like this: Neglected! reader uses music to let frustrations out and leading to them becoming this anon singer online. Reader started out with being a black screen singer at first, making covers of songs and then later they started when gaining popularity they started having this anime avatar or an anime persona (maybe even a vtuber model) and original songs left and right.

Reader lives a normal life flying under the radar in daylight but when alone they sing their hearts out in different songs, they even learn different languages for foreign songs too. I can imagine reader singing Japanese songs too something around Kikuo to One OK Rock covers.

AND THEN the big fight with Damian, reader really can't bear living in the mansion anymore. They bear it too much and now the bottle is already full. Before they left they dropped the song cover of Rät or maybe it's not even a cover in this AU, maybe they wrote the song in this AU. Gotham immediately loved the song maybe even tried to decipher the song too because singer! reader just dropped it and disappeared.

The song immediately gained notoriety because to the people of Gotham the song sounded like a protest. A question to the current hierarchy, a question to heroes and how villains came to be. No one still notices that the reader is missing until Tim was tasked to clean up some camera file storage around the mansion.

Tim watches every footage before cleaning it, no matter how boring it was to see if something went amiss while they are out on their secret vigilante nightlife. What did he find on the camera footage? He found the reader going around their bedroom and to the attic back and forth with a microphone and few recording equipment. When he reviewed the attic footage he found clips and clips of reader singing, editing, and uploading videos.

Suddenly, the last song they dropped made sense. The lyrics made sense. It was about them not about Gotham society.

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43

an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this

summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.

wc: 4.4k

She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.

She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.

Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.

Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.

But he didn’t.

Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.

It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?

It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.

No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.

The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.

Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.

And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”

He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.

And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.

“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.

Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”

There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.

“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.

“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.

His first race was in Monza.

And Franco had made sure she’d be there.

The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.

She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.

She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.

“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”

She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.

“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”

It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”

The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”

A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”

The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”

It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.

“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”

The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.

As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”

She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.

And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.

The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.

The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.

A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.

“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”

“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”

He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”

She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”

He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”

She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”

“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”

For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.

“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”

She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”

He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.

“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.

“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”

She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.

He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”

The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.

She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.

“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.

“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.

She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.

When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.

Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.

It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.

“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”

She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.

“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”

Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”

She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”

Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.

Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.

“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”

Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”

She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.

“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.

Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”

And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.

A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.

She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.

Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.

“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”

She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.

He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”

She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”

“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”

But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.

Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.

But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.

Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.

She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.

By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.

Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.

“¡Mira! Is that really you?”

She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.

“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.

He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”

“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.

“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.

She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.

The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”

He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”

They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.

As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.

Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.

to be continued…?

[cursedbanalities]

[[Figured I'd give it a go here!]]

My shoes were wet by the time I got to the manor, as were my pants and most of my belongings. Of course, the one time I didn't bring an umbrella was the time the sky decided to open up and pour all over me. Thankfully, I was able to take shelter on the mansion's deck, huddling under the roof. Despite the creepy and slightly worn-down look, it seemed the family was a fan of the macabre and kept their grounds well-maintained. There was a large graveyard in the distance, something that I had never seen on someone's property before, as well as several gargoyles and wrought-iron fences. Despite how soggy and cold I felt, I couldn't help but wonder what the townsfolk were going on about! These people probably just liked to embrace all things creepy and crawly.

I wiped the rain from my face, and noticed mascara stained my hands black. Great, I look like a friggin' raccoon now! I thought, desperately trying to find napkins somewhere in my purse. The door creaked open as I was wiping the mascara off of my face with a Taco Bell napkin, and I saw an extremely tall man with a square face standing in the doorway. He had to hunch over in order to properly see me, and was dressed in a full suit.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said in a hurry, stuffing my wet, soiled napkin back into my purse. I quickly motioned to the storm outside. "The, uhm... the rain slowed me down. I don't have a car, unfortunately. Um... I'm here about the ad?"

The tall man smiled. Lighting struck and thunder cracked as he did so, adding an uncomfortable amount of drama. He turned and began walking away, leaving the door open. At first, I thought he was going to close it in my face, but a moment went by before I realized he meant for me to follow him. I quickly ran inside, the mansion was colder than I had hoped, and carefully shut the door behind me.

I followed the tall man through the manor. The walls were covered with various pictures. Old family members in black and white look sternly ahead, though I could swear I saw their eyes following me as I walked by. A painting hangs over an unlit fireplace depicting a witch burning at the stake, which only furthered the unsettling atmosphere I found myself in. There were a couple of more recent ones as well, depicting a young girl in black, and a pudgy boy with short, black hair. Must be their kids, I thought.

Not long after, I found myself in a conservatory. Gnarled plants on tables line the large windows. A tall, slender woman in a clinging black dress stands in the middle, trimming a black rose bush. She noticed us enter, and she gave a slight smile.

"Ah, a guest. Thank you, Lurch." She said, coolly. The man gave a stiff bow, and left without a word. The woman in black locked eyes with me. "So, what brings you here on this fine afternoon? Were you responding to the ad?"

"Ah, yes ma'am! My name is Sherry. I'd normally agree with you, but the one time I didn't want rain was the day it happened!" She gave a weak laugh, but the woman didn't break her gaze. It was paralyzing, but I cleared my throat. "Anywho... I'm new in town, and I was looking for some extra cash. Times are tough, and when I saw the ad I figured... you know, I like kids! I figured I could watch over your little rascals while you're out and about!"

The woman's scarlet lips split into a smile. "Aahh, I'm happy to hear it! We've had that flier out for a while. I'll be honest, I was about to give up hope of ever finding a babysitter!"

"Y-yes, well... The locals didn't seem to fond of you guys, I'm not going to lie. They warned me about how "creepy" and "kooky" you guys are, but I figured they were just... I don't know... judging a book by its cover? I don't mind the creepy crawlies too much, so I think we'll get along just fine, eh?"

The woman seemed to glide across the ground as she came to shake my hand. "Morticia Addams is the name. Welcome to our terrifyingly humble abode." She motioned around her with her hands, "I'm glad you don't carry the same... prejudices some others have. I won't lie, though. You're not the first to come about the ad. Our kids... well, sometimes their creativity can get to be too much for our babysitters. We haven't been able to get them to stay more than one night! Heck, we've had a couple of people run off before we could pay them!" She let out a hearty cackle, and I weakly joined in with her.

"Haha, yeah, I'd at least have stayed for the money! At least, if it's as bad as you're saying..."

"Oh, nonsense! You're different from the others. Trust me, darling." She gives me a grin, "Besides, we always pay fairly. Even if it's not to your standards the cash will stay the same, if you'd like to get mercenary about it."

"Well, in that case... would you mind telling me how much I'll be paid?" I said meekly, afraid I'd seem ungrateful if I spoke about money too much. With a grin, Morticia led me back into the manor and to an office. She began pulling some lockboxes out with an old key. My mind wandered as she went through the boxes, and I began wondering if this job was right for me. Maybe I'm in over my head. The children's "creativity" seemed ominous, but there's no way that it's that bad, right? The entire town just hates the Addams Family. Maybe I should just make her way back out of the house, just to save my skin!

Though, once Morticia threw a heavy bag on the table, filled with coins and gems, I quickly changed my demeanor. "So..." I began, "When will I get started?"

[[This was fun! Maybe I'll continue this, if I get inspiration. It's a bit of a departure from what I usually do, after all!]]

You, new in town and strapped for cash, see an ad in the paper; apparently, a "Gomez and Morticia Addams" are in need of a babysitter to watch their two children during a business trip. Despite the VERY high pay, no one has pursued it. Ignoring warnings from the locals, you sign up.

[slytherinboysvip]

Imagine best friend Mattheo being absolutely obsessed with his innocent little Hufflepuff bsf but she just can’t tell. Everyone else knows, and it is quite obvious, but she just can’t think someone like him would want someone like her. But when she jokingly says she’s gonna get Cedric to take her virginity he decides it’s time he came clean.

Possibly with some soft smut if you are comfortable with it of course

bsf mattheo riddle x hufflepuff reader

hopefully this matches your request <3 i’ll most likely make a part 2 for this because.. you’ll see ;) 3.5k words

you lived a rather simple uncomplicated life, attending hogwarts as a hufflepuff with no interest in anyone’s drama. though you kept to yourself most times you tried to be nice to all your peers maintaining your classic hufflepuff demeanor, despite this there was one thing that was different about you.

you see, you didn’t see or understand why people don’t like other houses just because of “house rivalry” especially the students who weren’t even participating in any sports or point winning. and with this over your years though you had few friends you had one best friend who at first seemed rather impossible to be friends with.. mattheo riddle.

when you two met you were a fourth year and him a fifth, coincidentally you were going on to a few friends about your annoyance with people automatically assuming the worst of slytherin even though you yourself weren’t in their house or nearly like one. mattheo overheard this heated- adorable voice coming from behind him and he walked towards you carefully.

he sat down in front of you beside your friend as she gawked faces towards you at his presence. “you don’t think we’re too mean, huh?” he questioned small laugh leaving his lips. “i just think that some people are misunderstood and just because some wizards turned out bad doesn’t mean all of them in your house are” you looked at him answering his question with ease

he smirked in amusement and leaned a little closer to you “hm, hufflepuff eh? what year are you puff?” he sat back examining you and you didn’t fail to notice that nickname he slipped in “fifth year but i have an early birthday which is annoying because i could technically be out sooner” you sighed ignoring his staring.

“well, seeing as it’s ravenclaw against gryffindor do you wanna watch the quidditch game with me i know the best view” he stood up and held his hand out for you, you look towards your friends and they’re both nodding their heads for you to go so you did.

from that point on you and mattheo had been best friends, sadly he was in his seventh year and now you in your sixth nothing much had changed in your life. living vicariously through mattheo and his stories about slytherin parties and how you should go to one with him before it’s too late, he’d tell you about his sexual adventures and your jaw would drop everytime.

you yourself also confided in him though with much less interesting things, telling him how you feel unlikeable by guys sometimes because they never try to get or talk to you, or how you feel lonely because you’ve never had a a boyfriend before. hed always help soothe the thoughts away, telling you that it’s only your brain making those things up , “listen y/n, anyone who doesn’t love you is fucking insane”.

𓆙

talking to your friend zarah who’d been there since day one you always told her what you told matt, for the most part. “i just don’t get why nobody is interested in me zar, like am i genuinely that ugly” you plopped onto your bed sighing dramatically. “you’re not ugly and if you think no guys want you you’re blind i know one in particular that really, really wants you” she giggled.

you looked at her with a confused expression “i must be missing something because i have no idea who you’re talking about” you awaited her response and she just rolled her eyes and sighed “girl your practically boyfriend of a best friend you do everything with” she gave you a duh look and you just laughed. you genuinely couldn’t believe she’d even think he’d like you especially with all the girls he’d been with, “you’re hilarious, we both know he doesn’t want me he wants all the girls he tells me about” you started to compose yourself but zarah’s expression didn’t change.

“you literally must be blind y/n do you need glasses? or should i say puff? let’s talk about how that man hasn’t stopped calling you that pet name since you’ve met.. he’s in love” she rolled her eyes raising her hands in the air. “i still don’t think he wants me so there’s no convincing me” you shrugged her off and she groaned getting up and leaving your shared dorm.

𓆙

“puff you gotta come to this party, slytherin won agains gryffindor i just know this is gonna be the party you want to go to pleaseee” mattheo put his hands on your shoulders shaking you “fiinee” you attempted to answer between shakes before he let you go “if i would’ve known it was that easy i would’ve done that years ago” he rolled his eyes.

“anyways it’s tonight at like 8 so i’ll just get you from your dorm at like 7 do you think they’ll let me in? actually what’s the password?” he didn’t give you time to finish any of your sentences before you just gave him the password “butterscotch” you whispered, in response mattheo laughed “fucking butterscotch merlin that’s hilarious” you looked up at him and rolled your eyes walking away.

“i’ll see you at 7 puff” he yelled across the hall and you just gave a thumbs up and continued walking. you honestly were quite nervous seeing as you’ve never necessarily been to a party before, you’ve made small appearances at hufflepuff parties but you’ve heard they don’t even compare to slytherin.

making your way into your dorm you spot zarah and you pull her up from the common room couch “i finally said yes to a party need help now” you quickly mumbled and she quickened her pace “when does it start girl i need the info right this second come on you’re talking too long for me” she rushed and you blurted it all out “8pm he’s getting me at 7 he has the password he will be at the dorm” closing the door behind you two you both stopped to catch your breath

“sooo is it a dateee” she shimmied her arm on you winking “i already told you he doesn’t like me!!” you replied to her relentlessness. “ugh whatever we need to get you ready girl it’s already six” she pushed you onto your shared vanity chair and pulled out all of your makeup and a few things of hers, “creative control?” she asked smirking at you “mm fine but not too much” you agreed “we’ll see” she giggled.

after around 30 minutes she finished your makeup and she showed you the finished product, looking at yourself in the mirror you thought how you never would’ve put on red lipstick yet you feel really good in it. she gave you a small smokey eye and a small winged liner and you felt you looked more aggressive then you were, but you kinda loved it.

“it’s so much but so pretty” you admired yourself and the makeup she put on you slowly getting used to the feeling of fake eyelashes on your eyes. “i’m so glad you love it, but we need to find an outfit like three hours ago” she joked and rushed to your closets “i actually have the perfect dress in mind if you’re feeling the want to rep slytherin green” she raised her eyebrows up at you in a suggestive matter “sure why not” you shrugged

she handed you a velvet body con forest green dress that you were sure was going to be extremely short and you mean in every place. she held it up onto you “this will be perfect. get it on come on” she rushed you into the bathroom and you began putting it on “this is sooo tight” you called out as you struggled “oh i forgot it was a corset back wait i need to help you can i come in” she yelled through the door

“yeah come on i need this thing one me already” you struggled more as she walked in and immediately began to help you loosening the strings of the dress and pulling it down onto you “there we go now suck in like your life depends on it” she said half jokingly and began retightening the corset back. with every pull it felt like your chest was spilling out more and more and your ribs were shrinking “okay merlin that’s enough before i can’t breathe” you huffed and she stopped tying it off in a bow

“stop you look so hot y/n i bet matt will be drooling” she teased and you just rolled your eyes “what do we do with my hair” you looked at her with horror as you only had ten minutes before he should arrive. you quickly began curling your hair not really caring if it was messy just giving it some body and just as you were spraying perfume on there was a knock on your door.

zarah looked at you and whispered “answer it go go now” she pointed to the door like she was afraid to touch it herself and you walked over opening it to see mattheo in an all black button down with the top few buttons undone and black dress looking pants yet somehow he didn’t look overdressed. he didn’t say anything for a minute he was just staring at you looking up and down in awe “holy fuck y/n who did your makeup you look woah” he put his finger on your chin moving your head around examining your makeup

“zarah isn’t it pretty” you smiled and he removed his hand and replied “yeah you are, now let’s go” he grabbed your hand and you looked behind you waving bye to zarah “he’s so in love with you” she whispered before the door slammed closed.

𓆙

once you got the the party you noticed there were already many slytherins already pregaming and mattheo brought you two to them, “let’s get some alcohol in you little puff” he winked and poured you a shot of who knows what, you smelled the foul drink and it made your nose burn “come on do ittt” he cheered on and you held your nose throwing the shot back gagging at the taste. “how do people enjoy that” you made a face at him “like this” he replied taking two shots himself, “now catch up” he winked pouring you yet another

“if i didn’t know any better id say you’re trying to get me drunk matt” you laughed and he looked at you amused “obviously that’s what im trying to do it’s a party” he put the shot glass to your lips and you parted them taking the burning substance down your throat, “eugh that didn’t get any better the second time” you shook your head in disgust. “hm, let me make you an actual drink” he grabbed a clear liquor and a red juice mixing them together adding more alcohol than your past two shots and handed it to you

“matt this smells foul” you looked up at him, “just try it trust me the slytherins have the masking drink down” he winked and you reluctantly took a sip, and to your surprise all you tasted was juice. after taking another few sips you quick began drinking it and mattheo pulled the cup from your lips “slow down there this shits dangerous you’ll get so drunk you won’t be able to walk straight” he chuckled. “it’s not my fault they made it taste like juice” you shrugged still sipping.

“hey mattheo have your little hufflepuff take some shots with us” enzo threw his arm around your shoulders and mattheo pushed them off almost immediately “no she doesn’t need any shots” he spoke “you didn’t even ask me” you protested, granted you didn’t necessarily want to take any shots you just didn’t like being talked for. “oo are you sure you’re not slytherin you got an attitude” enzo laughed handing you a shot and you looked at mattheo who rolled his eyes as you took the shot.

throwing the shot back the burning sensation took over your throat and you could feel it rushing down your throat. you coughed a bit and chugged your drink for comfort “puff you’re going to get shitfaced slow down” matt fully took your cup this time and you were already feeling it. giggling looking up at him “okay now who was going to tell me party’s are fun” you continued giggling.

the music started playing and the slytherin common room was now getting more and more packed. you saw fifth year students and up in here, even a few ravenclaw and hufflepuffs your recognized. to your surprise in the corner of the party you spotted cedric diggory talking to a group of girls holding a drink.

pansy noticed your head being stuck in a certain direction and followed your eyes “oh em gee, someone’s got their eyes on a certain hufflepuff” she winked shoving her shoulder at your “shhhhh he’s just nice to look at” you giggled at her and she giggled along “you two would be soo cute” she added dragging you back to the drinks

“let’s take some shots!” she exclaimed handing you two , you took them smiling and shot them back with her, a woo leaving her mouth. “here chaser, chaser!” she shouted handing you another drink this time what looked like a lot of the punch, downing it all she laughed “girl we’re gonna be gone”. looking around you were seeing doubles of everything but didn’t want the night to already end.

“so, are you a virgin?” pansy shouted over the music making your already alcohol flushed face even redder “pansy!! you can’t just ask that!!” you shouted back flustered at the intrusive question, “i’m only curious girl” she giggled and gave you begging eyes “come onnnn” she shook you till you gave in “fine yes i am but don’t tell anyone!” you replied back as lowly as you could over the music

“who would you lose it to?” she giggled “i lost mine to blaise hehe sshhhh” she winked, considering she just told you her secret you felt obligated and just looked around “i mean i guess cedric” you giggled as she pointed at him after your response. before she could say anything else you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and drag you off. trying to kick your way out was useless and they brought you to an empty dorm.

through all of this you couldn’t tell who it was kicking and screaming for them to let you go till you heard mattheos voice “puff calm down it’s just me” he sighed putting you down on what you now assumed was his bed “why did you bring me in here that was so scary” you huffed trying to gain your composure. “diggory?” he scoffed not answering your question.

you looked at him confused as to what he was on about “what do you mean? what about cedric” you cocked your head to the side in confusion “you lost your virginity to him??” he questioned stepping closer to you looking rather.. pissed. you just laughed in response “me? lose my virginity to cedric?.. you’re funny” yeah you fantasized about it but it certainly wouldn’t happen.

“what were you talking to pansy about then??” he looked at you unconvinced, “she asked if i lost it and i said no, but id let him take it.-“ you shrugged “besides you know i tell you everything matt i’ve never even had a boyfriend let alone a guy be interested in my virginity” you sighed laying back onto the bed now feeling upset.

you heard mattheo sigh and you picked your head up to look at him, his eyes stared back at you in silence before breaking it “believe me there’s a lot of guys who want to get in your pants” he rubbed his fists and you gave him a confused expression yet again “what are you on about matt?” you were getting sober just from all of this extra mystery.

he walked over to the bed sitting beside you, “listen when we met you were just.. blooming completely and i would be lying if i didn’t say i first went up to you because of your looks.. well overtime you know we became friends and i noticed other guys staring in ways they shouldn’t have been so i had to teach them a lesson.” he looked at you and yo didn’t know how to respond to something like that.

“what exactly are you saying matt?” you didnt understand what he was poking at, did matt mean to say he basically likes you? were you reading too much into this? “look y/n, no one else in this school fucking deserves you. hell i don’t deserve you but i know i can treat you how you need. don’t ask me what took so long to confess to you y/n, but do you feel even remotely the same?” he let it all out quick and fast, and your mouth dropped.

“you want.. me?” you looked at him in disbelief and he just smiled “that’s what that whole speech was about, yeah” he chuckled nervously awaiting your reply “why?” you sighed still slightly unconvinced “have you fucking seen yourself puff? you’re so undeniably gorgeous, i don’t know how i hold myself back from you everyday” he leaned in closer to you making this all seem more real. without thinking you allowed yourself to lean into him, faces and lips meeting for the most magical first kiss you could’ve ever imagined.

“you’re so fucking beautiful y/n” he grabbed your face pulling you closer to him till you straddled over his lap sitting down continuing the now makeout. “this is so much better than.. imagined” you huffed through the kisses. you could already feel mattheos member growing beneath you and you never thought you’d be the one experiencing this from your best friend.

you’d be lying if you didn’t admit to a fantasy or two about him in the past but this was already one thousand times better than ever imagined. mattheos lips kissed their way down your neck leaving small marks tiny moans leaving your mouth, “i need to hear more of that, y/n, let me eat you out.. please i need a taste” he continued his kisses along your neck bringing them back to your lips “i’ve never- mm yes” you replied as his fingers began making circles over your underwear.

“you sound so good fuck” he groaned pulling you off of him and getting off the bed, “you’re sure of this?” he questioned one last time and you just nodded impatiently awaiting his next move. next thing you knew he was yanking you to the edge of his bed and slowly removing your pants and underwear looking up at you from below. “holy fuck puff.. you’re fucking soaking” he breathed out over your pussy sending tingles down your spine.

without warning his mouth met your untouched area and you felt things never imaginable. his tongue made its way around your bulging clit, flicking it up and down and making his way to your entrance sucking and licking “you taste so good holy fuck” he huffed going right back in not even looking up at you, “can i put two fingers” he spoke from your pussy and you couldn’t even properly answer “mm y-yes” you replied between your moans.

you felt his slender fingers teasing your entrance and he slowly began inching one in and out teasingly, “mattheo-“ you huffed and he chuckled shoving both fingers in, loud moan escaping your mouth and this new feeling. he did a few different moments trying to figure out what makes you moan the most, soon his tongue was sucking expertly on your clit as his fingers twisters and curled inside of you.

“matt i want to.. try” you moaned at this pleasure wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you now. “mm but you’re not ready yet puff” he continued devouring your pussy simply divulging in it as if he’d never eaten anything before. his pace on everything quickened and you were already near your own orgasm, “if you don’t s-stop i’m gonna cum” you moaned loudly trying to control yourself.

“let go for me sweetheart” he sucked harder on your clit, the nickname and action forcing your orgasm to flood over you harder than you’ve ever been able to make yourself experience. your body was shaking and you couldn’t hold your reactions back, mattheo slowly licked your gushing area clean before standing up “mm now i think you’ll be ready soon” he smirked leaning down over you, grabbing your chin and giving you a kiss.

[russo-woso]

Kim Little angsty but happy end 🙏🫶🏻

Calm down || Kim Little x reader

Warning argument

Summary Kim brings her anger back home after a violent match

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I don’t get it. We played shit, I played shit. And you, you getting a red did not help. It was pointless Y/N, Leah had it covered anyway, you shouldn’t have done a tackle like that. You were stupid.” Kim shouted, throwing her bags on the floor as you walked inside.

I’m guessing everyone wants a bit of backstory, huh?

Arsenal had just played Chelsea at a packed out Stamford Bridge.

The game had been rough to start with. Arsenal conceded early on in the game but somehow managed to equalise minutes later.

The game continued and Arsenal became sloppier and sloppier.

No big game changers occurred until the 80th minute.

Aggie Beever-Jones had a ball played through to her, you and Leah the only ones in front.

Using your initiative, you slide tackled into her, the edge of your boots touching the ball, but as soon as the ref blew her whistle and reached for her pocket, you knew you were done.

You fought back, telling her you got the ball but she was too stubborn.

You left the pitch in tears, too angry to notice the disapproval and anger on Kim’s face.

“I got the ball, Kim, I swear! I got the ball, the ref was too blind to see it.” You shouted back, Kim’s face red with anger.

“You wouldn’t have gotten a red if you did.”

“I’m leaving. I’ll spend the night with Katie and Caitlin. You’re taking the refs side instead of your own wife. Night, Kim.”

Without another word, you stormed out the house, jumping in the car and speeding to Katie and Caitlin’s house.

They welcomed you in with open arms, understanding why you had come to their house.

You had gone up to the spare bedroom immediately, not wanting them to see the tears in your eyes.

Your phone was buzzing with messages from Kim, begging you to come home. You ignored every single one though.

Which lead to Kim making her way to Katie and Caitlin’s house.

Kim managed to watch the replay of the foul, noticing how your foot did in fact clearly get a touch of the ball first.

She stopped at the shop on the way there, buying your favourite flowers and chocolates.

“Y/N, someone’s here to see you.” Katie shouted from downstairs.

You made your way down the stairs, seeing Kim’s face in the door.

“What do you want?” You asked, still mad at her.

Kim brought the chocolates and flowers out from behind her back.

“I’m sorry, love. I should have believed you, I don’t know why I didn’t trust you. Please come home.”

“Kim…”

“I know, I’m sorry I shouted, I’m sorry I got angry. I promise, I’ll never get angry about a game again.” Kim said, guilt in her voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Now, please can we go home. It’s freezing out here.” Kim joked, beginning to laugh but was cut off with your lips on hers.

“Come on then.” You laughed, dragging her to the car.

“Y/N?” Katie asked, walking into the hallway to see the door wide open but you no where to be seen. “Y/N? Kim? Well, they made up quickly.”

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[eu-nicola]

Morocco part 1

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, etc. only things of s4

word counter: 9000

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

There was a warm breeze blowing in from the ocean, bringing with it the smell of salt and adventure. You stood on the shore, watching the waves crash against the sharp, black rocks of the Outer Banks coastline. The sunset dyed the sky deep oranges and reds, painting long, brooding shadows across the sand. In the distance, the lighthouse flickered with its intermittent light, marking time. Your thoughts were filled with questions now that you were going to Morocco, and Rafe’s silhouette approaching along the wooden walkway only intensified that unease. 

Rafe had that look in his eyes that you had always found difficult to read, a mix of defiance and nonchalance that gave him an almost untouchable air. He walked with a confident gait, hands in his pockets, white shirt fluttering lightly in the wind. When he was close enough, you stopped, feeling tension take hold of your muscles. He noticed your expression and, without a word, stood beside you, staring out at the ocean as if you shared a secret that only he understood.

“How are you?” you asked, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded shakier than you had planned. It wasn’t a casual question; you both knew he was carrying a heavier weight. His eyes narrowed just a little, and after a moment that seemed like an eternity, he let out a sigh.

“Sofia is going to stay here,” he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. His words fell like stones to the bottom of your stomach, sinking you into a feeling of emptiness. “I didn’t want to risk taking my future wife to Morocco.”

It took your mind a while to process what he had just said, as if your brain had hit an unexpected wall. Future wife? The icy surprise ran across your skin, leaving you feeling cold in the stifling summer heat. You forced yourself to keep your composure, to not let the confusion become visible, but it was too late: Rafe was already watching you with that look that knew too much.

“Are you engaged?” you finally asked, trying to make your voice sound natural, but feeling the lump in your throat tighten a little more with each word. He gave you a slight smile, which barely curved his lips, but was reflected more intensely in his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, and the weight of that simple statement crushed your chest. You looked back at the horizon, looking for a respite in the immensity of the sea. The waves continued to break, indifferent to human emotions, while you struggled to maintain the balance between surprise and the pain that you did not dare to let out.

Rafe nodded, his smile wider and more sincere than yours. “Thank you,” he said in a tone that revealed a kind of relief, as if he had been waiting for your reaction with hidden caution. There was a moment of silence, awkward and dense, in which neither of you moved or looked away from the ocean. The waves continued their eternal back and forth, and for a moment you wondered what it would be like to be anywhere else in the world, a place where Rafe’s words couldn’t reach you and where the echo of “future wife” didn’t resonate in your mind like a persistent hammering. 

The breeze blew harder, carrying with it the echo of distant laughter and the voices of seagulls, and as Rafe looked back out to sea, you felt everything moving around you, except you. 

You fell silent, allowing the sound of the sea and the wind to carry away the unspoken words. You didn't want to talk about Rafe's engagement anymore, or about Sofia, or what it meant to you. You had learned to swallow your emotions, to let them burn inside you until they became something more bearable, like ashes after a fire. So you didn't say anything. You just nodded almost imperceptibly and took a step back, as if you were walking away from a conversation that had already ended. 

Rafe watched you with fleeting curiosity, but he didn't insist. He, too, knew when it was best to leave things as they were. Without another word, he turned around and walked back along the same wooden path he had come by, his footsteps echoing in the increasingly dark afternoon. You stayed a few seconds longer, trying to let the cold in your chest dissipate and your breathing return to a normal rhythm. 

When you finally turned around, your thoughts were already far away from there, beyond the ocean, in the dunes of Morocco, in the legends surrounding the Blue Crown. That relic had been the center of stories and rumors among treasure-hunting circles, a lost jewel whose importance went beyond wealth: it was said to have the power to change the fate of whoever possessed it. And now, it was sought not only by you and Rafe, but also by the Pogues, and others. 

You had no time to be distracted, and you couldn't let your emotions prevent you from acting with the coolness that the situation required. You returned to your home where on the worn wooden table, the map of Morocco was spread out, with handwritten notes and markings indicating the places you had investigated before. You sat down, letting the weight of determination replace the pang of jealousy and disappointment you still felt. 

You looked through your things: an old compass that had belonged to your grandfather, oil lanterns, a sharp knife, and a copy of a manuscript with cryptic clues about the location of the Blue Crown, clothes, and a lot of money. 

As night fell over the Outer Banks and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you promised yourself that you would find the Crown, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way. You weren’t interested in having it, but in what it took to have it, the deals you could make, and how proud your father would be if you did. It would be your victory, your vindication with your father after he nearly “killed” you when he found out you weren’t with Rafe anymore and you ruined his perfect life by not marrying a Cameron. You pushed those memories from your mind, focusing your eyes on the map and letting the adrenaline and obsession with the search take over. 

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The Moroccan sun was merciless, a golden blaze that seemed hell-bent on burning your skin and sapping every ounce of energy you had. The air was dry, with a hint of sand that seeped into your mouth and stuck to your skin. You walked through a bustling market, where the aromas of spices, leather, and sweat mingled in a heady, chaotic mix. Vendors shouted in Arabic and French, selling everything from hand-woven rugs to intricately detailed gold jewelry. Despite the fascination you could feel for the place, the heat made every step a struggle. 

“Damn heat,” you mutter as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Your clothes, light but already soaked, clung to your skin uncomfortably. You were tired, overwhelmed, and everything seemed even more complicated in the middle of that maze of narrow streets. 

Behind you, you hear a low, familiar laugh. “Are you really complaining about the heat?” Rafe’s voice comes with a hint of sarcasm you know well. He’d joined the expedition at the last minute. He wore dark sunglasses and a smile that made him seem completely unfazed, even under the relentless desert sun. 

“It’s not that different from home,” he adds, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look that mixes defiance and complicity. His words hit you with an unexpected truth, and although you hate to admit it, you agree with a slight nod. 

“You’re right,” you acknowledge, trying not to show the irritation you felt. Outer Banks might be stifling, humid, and wild, but this dry, scorching heat had its own way of imposing itself. Still, the comparison was still valid. 

Rafe stops next to a stall where an old man sells copper and silver amulets. He takes one between his fingers, examining it with that calm attention he used to display before making a major move. His presence is as familiar as it is exasperating, a constant that forced you to stay alert.

“Don’t forget what we’re here for,” he murmurs without looking at you, as he returns the amulet to the old man with a polite smile. His words bring you back to the present, to the mission.

You take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill your lungs and force you to focus. “I never forget,” you reply, and although your words sound firm, you both knew that heat, distractions, and personal tensions were silent enemies.

Rafe smirks, a gesture that could be either respect or mockery. Then, without further ado, he walks into the crowd, motioning for you to follow him.

Hours later, night fell over Morocco with the speed of a closing curtain, leaving the air still warm and charged with the promise of new intrigue. The market streets, which during the day were a hive of life, were transformed into a labyrinth of shadows and flashing lights, where low-voiced conversations and distant laughter mingled with the hum of oil lamps. You found yourself in one of these streets, walking briskly alongside Rafe, whose eyes seemed to scan every corner, alert for any sign of movement.

You knew the Pogues were in town. They’d been following the treasure trail for almost as long as you had, and though your paths had crossed in the past, you’d never considered joining them. Until now.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked Rafe, feeling the weight of doubt like a stone in your stomach. It was an idea that had seemed absurd to you when it first came up, but the more you thought about it, the more logical it made. Two opposing forces joining forces for a common goal. But with Rafe, you could never be completely sure of anything.

Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a smile that was more of a warning than a friendly gesture. “Relax. It suits them as much as it suits us.” You stopped at the edge of a crossroads, the yellowish light of a streetlamp illuminating half of his face and leaving the other half plunged into darkness. “Don’t worry so much, if there’s one thing I know about them it’s that they can’t resist an opportunity,” she added, lowering her voice and moving closer. 

The meeting was scheduled in an old warehouse near the port, a place where stacked wooden boxes and hanging ropes created a scene that seemed straight out of a pirate tale. The place smelled of salt and damp wood, and the echoes of the waves crashing against the docks filled the space with a constant murmur. When you arrived, the Pogues were already there, standing in a tense semicircle, exchanging glances and whispers. John B, with his disheveled hair and alert expression, was the first to spot you. Beside him, Sarah tensed her jaw at the sight of Rafe, and you couldn’t blame her. The wounds between them ran deep, scars that would take a while to heal, if they ever did. 

“What are you doing here?” JJ’s voice was the first to break the silence. His eyes, normally full of spark and humor, were now hard as steel. Kie stood beside him, arms crossed and an expression that clearly said he didn’t trust what was happening.

Rafe raised his hands, as if to show he had no ill intentions. “Relax. We’re not here to fight. We’re here to help.”

“Help?” John B repeated the word as if it were a joke, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” you intervened, taking a step forward. All eyes fell on you, and you felt the weight of uncertainty in each gaze. “But if we want to find the Crown before others do, we have no choice. Rafe and I know things, we have clues that can lead us to it. And you also have information that we need.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Eyes met, searching for answers that neither was willing to give. Pope was the first to move, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he were assessing the situation. “What kind of information?” he finally asked, his tone calculating and full of caution.

Rafe smiled, and you knew he’d been waiting for that question. “We know the last clue leads to a site in the Atlas Mountains. But it’s not a place you can get to with maps and courage alone. You need someone who knows the terrain, and we just happen to have people who do.”

Kie let out a sigh, lowering her arms and casting a quick glance at her friends. “It’s crazy,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested the idea, as dangerous as it was, intrigued her.

John B gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting from you to Rafe, then to his friends. There was a decision to be made, and you both knew it. Finally, he nodded, though not willingly. “Okay, but if this is a trap…”

“It’s not,” you interrupted. And though your words were firm, you knew that everyone there had reasons to doubt. The alliance was not perfect, and past scars still hurt. But in the search, distrust would be a luxury they could not afford.

Rafe crossed his arms, pleased, and looked at John B with a flash of defiance. “Then we better get started. The mountains aren’t going to wait for us.”

The group exchanged glances, a tacit agreement that felt like a leap into the dark.

Dawn in Morocco came with unexpected warmth, as if the sun had risen early with the sole purpose of testing everyone’s patience. The souk, which had just awakened with the first light, was filled with life in a matter of minutes: merchants displayed their wares, children ran through the alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and freshly baked bread. The relative calm of the morning didn’t last long.

It had been barely two days since you formed that precarious alliance with the Pogues and, as you feared, things quickly went awry. You weren’t sure what exactly had caused the chaos – whether it was Rafe trying to “get information” the way he usually did, or whether it was an unfortunate run-in with another group of treasure hunters who had gotten wind of the treasure. The truth was that you now found yourself running at full speed between clay buildings and narrow alleys, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls as the screams and curses of your pursuers filled the air behind you. 

“Rafe! This is madness!” you shouted as you dodged a fruit stand that you nearly knocked over in your wake. Oranges rolled across the ground, and the merchant let out an enraged scream that was lost in the melee. Rafe, running beside you with a grin that bordered on reckless, barely turned to look at you. 

“Calm down, I’ve got it under control!” he replied in a tone that made you want to punch him in the midst of all the confusion. The shadow of a smile remained on his face, as if this was all just a game and not a race to keep his skin intact.

“You better fix it, Rafe!” you roared, feeling the burn in your legs and the metallic taste of effort in your mouth. “I wanted at least a couple of good days in Morocco!” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a moment of true tranquility, and in that instant, the desire for everything to be different mixed with the adrenaline that drove you to keep running. 

Rafe let out a laugh, one you didn’t know whether to admire or detest. “Good days? That’s not part of the deal, friend.” His words seemed laden with irony, but also with a truth that stuck in you like a thorn. 

You turned a corner and felt the sunlight hit you directly in the face, blinding you for a crucial second. You staggered and almost fell when you tripped on a small step, but Rafe grabbed your arm and pushed you forward without stopping. The footsteps behind you were getting closer, and you could hear shouts in Arabic that, although you didn’t fully understand, made it clear that the intentions were anything but friendly.

“To the right!” Rafe shouted, letting go of you and pointing down a side street that seemed narrower than the one before. Without thinking, you turned, your heart pounding in your chest like a crazed drum. The alley narrowed even further, and the terracotta-colored walls seemed to close in around you. You could feel the adrenaline bubbling through your veins, sweat soaking through your shirt, and the sound of the chase ringing in your ears as a constant reminder of how close they were.

Suddenly, a thud to your left caught your attention: John B and JJ had emerged from a hidden passage, expressions mixing surprise and relief at seeing you. “What the hell did they do now?!” JJ shouted, a spark of reproach in his eyes.

“This isn’t the time for details,” you replied between gasps, and without stopping, you walked past them, followed by Rafe, who still had that impassive smile.

“We have to split up,” John B said, taking the lead and pointing with a sharp gesture. “We’ll meet at the meeting point! Go that way!” And before you could answer, he and JJ disappeared into another narrow passage, like moving shadows.

You and Rafe kept running, the chase now divided and the sound of footsteps diminishing. The alley opened up into a small square, where the midday shadows were deeper. There, you leaned against a wall, trying to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

Rafe glanced at you, his breathing ragged but a spark of excitement in his eyes. “You see,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a quick gesture, “this is what makes everything more interesting.”

You looked at him, feeling a mixture of exasperation and a strange camaraderie wash over you. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe you were crazy for keeping up with him.

After the chase, everything had calmed down, they continued doing their thing during the day and at night when they went to rest at a place where they were staying while you slept you were startled by a thud in the next room. You barely had time to stand up when the door was flung open and a tall man, with scars on his face and eyes as dark as night, pointed a gun at you. “Not a single move, girl,” he hissed in broken English, the threat in his voice as clear as the gun in his hand.

Rafe, who was in the other room, burst in without a second thought. The fight was quick, a clash of bodies and blows that echoed in the small room like war drums. With your heart racing, you searched for something, anything to defend yourself, and your fingers found an old metal lamp. You didn’t think about it. With all the strength you could muster, you threw it at the intruder’s head, the metallic sound echoing as it hit him and sent him reeling.

“Get out!” Rafe shouted, his voice a roar that snapped you out of your trance. You moved toward the door as he finished subduing the intruder. Outside, the streets were deserted, a blanket of silence that was almost as dangerous as the bustle of the crowd. You knew they couldn’t stay there. They had to move.

The next day, things only got worse. Despite having agreed on a meeting point with the Pogues, the pressure of being under constant surveillance and dodging suspicious glances became unbearable. Pope had managed to decipher an ancient map that seemed to lead to a cave in the Atlas Mountains, but they hadn’t counted on the other hunters who caught wind of the advance.

The chase began in the market, with the clatter of falling pots and screams from confused vendors who barely understood what was happening. You leapt up a stone staircase that led up to the rooftops, Rafe hot on your heels and JJ and Kie a few feet behind, bringing up the rear. From above, the flat roofs of the souk stretched out like a makeshift battlefield, dotted with hanging clothes and rusty antennas. The air was thick with heat and dust, making every breath a challenge. 

Gunshots rang out in the distance, the echo spreading through the streets like a wave. You threw yourself to the ground just in time to avoid a second shot, feeling adrenaline turn your fear into a searing drive. Rafe held out a hand and helped you up, the urgency in his eyes clearer than ever. “We have to get down from here now!” he shouted over the din, pointing to an old staircase that led to a narrow alley. 

They managed to climb down and into the tangle of streets, but the sense of impending danger never left. The group briefly took refuge in a cellar, where John B pulled out the map and spread it out on a splintered wooden table. “The cave is close, but we need to make a detour. We’re being followed closely,” he said, his gaze fixed on the markings that indicated a winding path into the mountains.

The tension in the air was palpable. No one fully trusted Rafe, and Kie kept giving you worried glances, as if trying to gauge how much more you could take. You were tired, exhausted, but at the moment the idea of ​​stopping seemed as far away as peace itself. 

That night, when the group decided to split up, you found yourself alone with Rafe in a dark passage, the echo of screams and gunshots still haunting you. The shadows on the stone walls seemed to lengthen and twist as if they were alive, too, watching you. You walked in silence, your breathing still ragged and your body on high alert. Rafe, ever alert, stopped suddenly and put a hand on your arm. The touch was cold, but it also had a hint of urgency that made you still. 

“Listen,” he whispered. You barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming toward you, slow and calculated. Before you could process it, someone grabbed you from behind and dragged you into the darkness of an alley. You kicked and punched, fighting with all your might as Rafe tried to reach you. 

You knew you had been missing for no more than a couple of hours, you had learned to count time without a watch and without getting lost and you knew that you had been exactly two hours with your head covered, except for your mouth. 

In an unexpected twist, it was John B who appeared out of nowhere, pulling your captor and slamming him against the wall with a force that seemed impossible for his build. Once free, you breathed heavily, feeling the world around you blur. You were tired, but John B’s gaze, full of concern and determination, reminded you that you were not alone. 

“We have to move. Now,” he said and you quickly followed. 

The streets began to calm down as John B led you through a maze of passages further and further away from the bustle of the souk.

Finally, John B stopped in front of an old wooden door, dark with age and dust. He knocked three times in a rhythmic manner, and the door creaked open. You entered behind him, feeling tiredness creeping through your body like an unbearable weight. The small room you entered was lit by an oil lamp in one corner, casting a dim light that made the shadows lengthen and distort.

There, sitting in a chair with an expression somewhere between worry and relief, was Rafe. When he saw you, his eyes lit up with a flash of excitement that he quickly tried to hide under a facade of serenity. You had no time for words; you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body and the accelerated beat of his heart under your arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Rafe hugged you back, his grip firm, almost desperate. For an instant, he wasn’t the troubled, arrogant man you’d shared so many moments of uncertainty with, but someone who shared the weight of the same struggle, the same fear, and the same need to find respite amidst the chaos.

“I thought I’d have to kill someone to find you,” he murmured, his voice husky near your ear, heavy with a feeling he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. You felt his hands tighten around you, as if he feared that if he loosened his grip, you might disappear into the dimness of the room.

��I almost did,” you admitted, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

John B coughed softly, breaking the tension in the air and reminding you that you weren’t alone. You looked over at him, and behind him, JJ and Kie had gathered, each with expressions ranging from relief to distrust. Kie smiled briefly, but JJ kept his stance alert, always the first to suspect Rafe. 

“We need to decide our next move,” John B said, crossing his arms and glancing around at everyone in the room. “Those following us aren’t going to stop, and the cave in the mountains isn’t going to sit around waiting for us.”

Rafe let out a low, almost inaudible laugh and looked away, as if he was considering John B’s words. You felt the knot in your chest slowly unravel, replaced by the determination they all shared: to find what they were looking for. 

After the conversation, the small room fell into a heavy silence, interrupted only by tired sighs and the occasional creaking of chairs. The tired looks, the few words. The adrenaline of the day was finally beginning to fade, and exhaustion took its place with relentless force. John B and the others found corners in the room to rest, spreading threadbare blankets on the floor and chairs.

Rafe looked at you and nodded silently, both of you knowing you wouldn't stay there. Without exchanging another word, you walked out the back door, into the shadows of the streets of Marrakech. You walked in silence, unhurried but not stopping, following the paths you already knew by heart. The house you shared was a few streets away, a replica of the many modest buildings in the neighborhood, but set back enough to offer you a semblance of privacy and safety.

Upon arriving, Rafe opened the door and let you in first. The interior was dark and cool, a welcome welcome after the scorching heat of the day and the tension that seemed to have been tied to your back like a weight. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the ephemeral peace of the place, before letting out a deep sigh and moving towards the small room in the back, where a low, simple bed awaited you. 

Rafe stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of tiredness and something else you couldn’t quite make out. “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” he asked, his voice soft and husky. 

You shook your head as you kicked off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. “No, I just… need to sleep. It’s been too much for today.” You laid down on your side, hugging one of the pillows and feeling your eyelids begin to droop. You didn’t expect Rafe to do the same, but suddenly you heard him move. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and the lamplight flickered for a moment before he blew out the last spark and everything went dark. 

You flinched slightly as you felt the weight of the bed dip beside you. You turned your head, and though you could barely see his features in the darkness, you could feel his proximity, the heat radiating from his body. “I’m not staying in that house with them,” he murmured, like an explanation, though you didn’t need one. You didn’t respond, just closed your eyes, too exhausted to think about what it meant.

The silence stretched between you, only broken by the slow, deep breaths that began to come together. Without realizing it, as tiredness dragged you to sleep, you turned a little, looking for a more comfortable position. Your hands brushed Rafe's arm, and he moved barely, as if responding to your touch was a reflex. Before you could think about what was happening, you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you towards him. It was a protective, warm gesture, and although at another time you would have said something, in that instant you only sighed, feeling your body relax completely. 

With his breath close to your ear and the safety of his arms around you, the tension that had accompanied you for days finally dissolved. 

The next morning the sun began to filter through the cracks in the window, filling the room with a soft light that contrasted with the darkness you had fallen into the night before. You woke up slowly, eyelids heavy, body still marked by the tiredness of the day before. Without moving, you felt the warmth of Rafe’s body beside you, his arm still around your waist, and for a moment you couldn’t help but smile quietly.

You tried to turn around to get out of his embrace without making a sound, hoping you wouldn’t wake him, but when you tried to move, something pulled at you. Rafe, still asleep, pulled you closer to him, a gesture so automatic that it made you sigh silently. Your body tensed at first, but then you realized it couldn’t be that bad, at least for a moment longer.

“Don’t go,” he murmured quietly, his tone rough with sleep. The softness of his words made your chest tighten unintentionally.

You stayed still for a second, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you, as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only that small corner of peace between the two of you. But reality, as always, quickly took over. You didn’t want to be that person, you didn’t want to confuse yourself or complicate things further. It was a hug, nothing more.

“Rafe...” you began quietly, almost afraid to interrupt the peace that had formed between you. “I’m not Sofia.”

The sound of his breathing changed, and then, with a calmness that surprised you, he replied, “I know,” as he held you even tighter against his chest. His words were soft, as if there was nothing to clarify, nothing to change. “I just… want to keep sleeping.”

Despite his relaxed tone, you couldn’t stay there all day. You already knew that time was pressing, and things were still moving outside of that little bubble of calm you’d shared with him. “There are things to do, Rafe,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “And we need to eat.”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips at that moment, but eventually he relented. His body tensed a little as, with a grimace, he began to pull away from you, his arm finally releasing you, though his gaze was still a little clouded by sleep.

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting up with a hand on his head, as if trying to clear his head a little before getting up. “But only because you have to eat.”

The smile that escaped you upon hearing his tired, yet resigned tone was almost inevitable. You got up first, stretching and looking for clean clothes. As you watched him prepare his way to get up.

After a simple but necessary breakfast, with the morning warmth streaming in through the windows, the pace of the day continued. The conversations about the map and the cave in the mountains were quickly forgotten as each of you went about your own business. The chaos and paranoia of the day before had subsided, but danger was still present in every corner of Morocco, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Rafe, as always lately, had decided to act without thinking too much about it. There was something in his nature that pushed him to throw himself into risky situations without measuring the consequences. And, as always, it ended in trouble.

That trouble came in the form of an old acquaintance who appeared in the square, with clear intentions of collecting old debts. Rafe tried to negotiate, to talk to him in terms he clearly didn’t understand, while you watched from afar, feeling a growing unease in your stomach. There was something about the man’s posture, his cold gaze, that told you that they weren’t going to get out of this well.

The exchange of words escalated quickly, the tone of the conversation going from tense to aggressive in seconds. You knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what you didn’t expect was what happened next.

The man moved quickly, his hand searching for something in his jacket. You didn’t need to be told, it all happened in the blink of an eye. Rafe had backed away, but the man already had a gun in his hands, and his intention was clear. Rafe’s gaze hardened, and in that moment you understood that he couldn’t escape.

The man raised the gun towards him, and the world seemed to slow down for an instant. You knew there was no time to think about it. Fear transformed into action without your brain being able to fully process it. Without thinking, you pulled out the gun you had taken from the cellar the night before. In one swift movement, you aimed and fired. 

The sound of the gunshot rang through the air, the echo repeating in your ears as the man fell to the ground, with a grunt of pain, the gun slipping from his hand. Quickly, you turned to Rafe, who was only a few feet away from you, watching what had happened with a mix of surprise and gratitude, but also with the awareness of what had just happened. 

“Are you...?” you began, but the words got caught in your throat. Adrenaline was still flowing through your veins, making your hands shake slightly, but there was no time to reflect. 

Rafe, after a moment of silence, finally spoke. “Well done,” he said in a tone you couldn’t quite read. But there was something in his gaze, a deep gratitude, and also a concern that he didn’t want to admit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied, quickly putting the gun away, though your heart was still racing. “Be careful, I need you to be the Rafe who makes deals with the worst people possible and comes out on top.”

Rafe didn’t say anything. He looked at the fallen man, then turned to you, and without another word, he nodded. “Let’s move on.”

The two of you walked quickly, away from the scene, the shadows of the streets covering you. Rafe walked a few steps ahead of you.

Your breathing was still irregular, the adrenaline already starting to wear off. The question that had formed in your head escaped your mouth, more out of impulse than out of need to know the answer.

“Isn’t there a minute where we have peace? Where I don’t have to get your ass out of some trouble?” you blurted out, the irony in your voice evident. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream, but something about the situation made you blurt out that question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rafe, without turning around, let out a dry laugh, the one you already knew was the only way he had to deal with the situation, a defense against the chaos that surrounded him. “Like with Sheriff Peterkin,” he said, and although his words seemed light, there was something in his tone that he couldn’t hide: the heaviness of that memory.

The mention of the policewoman made you pause for a second. You knew exactly what he meant. That time, long before they got to this point, you remembered the local police who had almost caught Rafe and his family, so he took it upon himself only for reasons that were never fully understood, your father intervened, paying whatever it took to cover it all up. 

You knew that, in some way, your father’s hand was always present, ensuring that Rafe’s problems didn’t affect him, although it had left you with a bitter feeling in your stomach. Your father never talked about these situations, but it was clear that he had ways of cleaning up messes that others couldn’t. And in some way, he included you in his world, which you were used to and liked. 

“I know,” you answered with a wry smile. You couldn’t help but think of everything you had done to protect Rafe, everything you had put aside for him, for his sake. And what did you get in return? More trouble, more chaos. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that something about that connection dragged you down, something you couldn’t control.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment, his eyes softened, as if you were reading his thoughts. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t the kind of thanks that made you feel completely at ease.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, feeling the moment become more tense than it already was. “I don’t need you to thank me, Rafe. This is what always happens. But I don’t want to be your fixer all the time.”

Silence fell between you again as you walked through the streets, the sun already warming the air uncomfortably. Your dress, though light at first, now felt sticky and dirty. Sweat ran down your back and the line of your neck, and the dust of the streets stuck to your skin only made things worse. You rubbed your forehead, desperate, and muttered more to yourself than to Rafe.

“This is unbearable. I’m sweaty, dirty, and… I need a bath urgently. This is torture.”

Rafe walked a few steps ahead, but his eyes shifted to you for a moment, as if he was trying to process what you had just said. He didn’t seem worried, but he did seem a little amused to see you in this state.

“I know, but it’s not the most important thing right now,” he said, in his usual, somewhat carefree tone. “We have to stay focused.”

You frowned as you brushed off your dress. “Yeah, sure, very focused… but I could be a lot more productive if I wasn’t so uncomfortable.” You looked around, realizing how ridiculous it sounded: here you were, running away from one problem after another, and all you could think about was a bathroom.

Rafe, noticing your tone, let out a low, amused laugh, as if the idea of ​​worrying about something so mundane in the midst of all the chaos was completely absurd. “It’s not my fault you’re not going to take a bath with me,” he said, as if to joke. 

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised, and prepared to respond, but before you could say anything, he gave you a small tap on the arm, almost playfully, while smirking. The way he did it seemed so natural, as if everything else around them disappeared for a second. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he added between laughs. “You can wait a little longer before you get in the water.” 

He looked at you with that lopsided smile that, despite everything, couldn’t take away the discomfort of being drenched in sweat and dirt. But you couldn’t help but laugh, despite how upset you were. 

“Easy for you to say, right?” You said, trying to make a face, but you couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “When you’re not the one stuck in a sticky dress with your hair stuck to your face.”

Rafe, hearing your tone, simply shrugged, still smiling. “I promise that once we get somewhere safe, you can shower all you want. In the meantime, just hold on a little longer. It’s not all that bad, right?”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at his relaxed face as you walked. You knew he was partly right. In the end, the sweat and heat were nothing compared to what you had already faced. But, despite everything, you couldn’t help but think about how much good a nice bath would do you.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” you said in a more relaxed tone, feeling your body ease up a bit as the tension was released with those words. “Because really, Rafe, I need something more than water to cool off.”

Rafe, looking at you with that look of his, just nodded, and with a mischievous smile on his face, he replied, “I promise, just hold on a little longer.”

You pushed yourself gently against his arm, and laughed.

Although the hours had felt endless, they ended up being productive for you and Rafe. The search for clues had paid off, although not in the way you had expected. They had managed to find some things and talk to some people who would help them, and they had also made some important progress in getting an address that seemed more promising than the previous ones. Despite the discomfort of the heat, the chases they had barely dodged, and the tensions between them, you felt that the hours had been worth it. 

The streets, which had previously seemed overwhelming and chaotic, now felt more familiar. They had managed to blend in a bit with the locals, and although curious eyes continued to follow them, they managed to move more confidently, at least until it got late. Finally, after a day of intense work and a couple of altercations, night fell over Morocco, and the cool breeze that was beginning to blow made you breathe a sigh of relief. 

As the shadows lengthened, the city seemed to calm down a bit, the streets less hectic, the heat of the day slowly easing. You were tired, the sweat stuck to your skin was no longer just uncomfortable, but had left you feeling heavy. All you wanted at that moment was a bath, but you knew things couldn't be that simple.

Rafe had disappeared for a moment, perhaps to talk to someone or continue digging into some clue that had surfaced, but you couldn't wait any longer. You quickly walked to the house you had rented, the temporary shelter where you could only think about taking off everything you had endured that day.

Entering the small dwelling, you closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. You no longer had to be on alert all the time. There was no immediate danger in sight, and at last, you had some time to yourself.

You quickly headed to the bathroom, where a large, old tub was waiting for you, filled with water that still felt somewhat warm, as if someone had prepared everything in advance. You didn't hesitate for a second and, without thinking twice, you began to undress, removing clothes soaked in sweat and dust from the day. Each piece of clothing you dropped on the floor seemed to take a little more of the weight off your shoulders.

You sank into the tub with a sigh of relief, letting the warm water envelop your tired body. You lay back with your arms outstretched on the edge, closing your eyes and letting the warmth surround you, covering you completely. Each bubble that formed on the surface seemed to soothe you more, as if you were letting go of all the stress and tension you had built up.

The sound of the water gently moving around you was the only thing you could hear, and for a moment, you felt like everything else was left behind. You only thought about yourself, and the movement of the water.

The warmth of the water was beginning to relax you completely, and every part of your body that had been tense during the day was slowly letting go. You had your eyes closed, enjoying the moment, when you finally managed to disconnect from everything else, even Rafe's presence. At last, you felt like the world could wait a little.

The soak in the tub was beyond relaxing. Without thinking, you began to completely relax, the hot, bubbling water enveloping your body as tiredness slipped away from you.

You allowed yourself to stay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace that so rarely came to you.

When you finally got out of the tub, you felt like new. The water had done wonders on your tired body.

You decided to replace the water in the tub before Rafe arrived. The water you had used was warm, but it wasn't as hot anymore, so you decided to fill it up again for him. You did this more out of instinct than anything else, you wanted to offer him some peace of mind after everything you had been through that day. The sound of the water flowing in the tub was the only thing you could hear as you prepared to go get some clean clothes.

You didn't notice it at first, but when you returned to the living room, you heard the door open. Rafe walked in with his tired, somewhat heavy gait, but it wasn’t until you turned to look at him again that you noticed something odd about his posture. Something about the way he walked, slightly hunched over, made you frown.

Rafe was hurt.

The sweat on his face and the blood stains on his clothes didn’t go unnoticed. There was some wound, perhaps superficial, but enough to make you worry. You hurried to approach him, but he raised his hand, stopping you before you could say anything.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tense but firm, as if he didn’t want you to treat him like he was a child. “Just a couple of scratches. A bath will do me good, and that’s it.” His tone was so direct that it left no room for further discussion, as if the idea of ​​being helped was something he preferred to avoid.

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to help, to do something, but you knew Rafe wasn’t going to let you do it. You knew him too well to know that he wouldn’t accept help easily, especially when it came to something as “minor” as a wound.

“I’ve already filled the tub for you,” you finally said, trying to hide how much it worried you to see him in that state. Your voice sounded calmer than you felt, but there was still a note of concern that you couldn’t hide. “It’s ready. Just… be careful, okay?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, that smile of his that used to be so trusting, but now seemed somewhat forced. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving you a slight nod in thanks. 

You stood there for a few moments, watching him head towards the tub, where he paused for a moment before beginning to strip off his blood and dirt stained clothes. 

The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but in the end, you knew you couldn’t just leave him like that. If he wasn’t going to accept it, you would take the lead. No matter what was between you, you couldn’t leave him hurt and alone. 

You approached the tub with a clear decision in your mind. Without thinking too much, you grabbed a clean rag and dipped it into the hot water. The sound of the water sliding down his skin, the warmth emitted by the steam, turned it all into a kind of calm that at first seemed disconcerting. Rafe stayed silent, watching you as you moved the cloth gently across his torso, careful not to touch his wounds, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated on his body.

You didn’t think about his nakedness. You knew that, at this point, it was just a practical matter.

Rafe, despite the awkwardness of the situation, kept looking at you, and with a crooked smile, decided to break the silence. “Are you really doing this?” he said in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow, as if he were in the middle of an awkward joke. “Aren’t you afraid of getting wet?”

You laughed despite yourself, almost unable to help it. The laughter came out of you spontaneously, lightening the heavy atmosphere that had formed a little. “If I get wet, I get wet. It’s not like I haven’t gotten wet before.” You replied, cleaning the part of his shoulder more carefully, always aware of the wounds.

Rafe’s sarcastic tone never faded, though at the moment it seemed more like a way to cope than anything else. He stared at you, but this time, something in his gaze changed. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said casually, as if it were just a comment. But there was something in his eyes that left you speechless. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. For a second, you froze. “Please don’t say that,” you murmured, trying to look away to avoid him seeing it in your eyes. 

The atmosphere between the two of you grew tense, as if the words were floating in the air, weighing more than anything you could say. There were too many things left unsaid between you, too many intertwined feelings, and the complications of everything going on in your lives. But, in that instant, the comment seemed to change something.

Rafe didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently took your hand, guiding it through the water as you ran it over his chest. The closeness of his body, the way he touched you, made your breathing quicken. Before you could react, he pulled you towards him, into the tub, unexpectedly. The warmth of the water surrounding both of you only intensified the feeling of closeness, of warmth. 

You stood there, not knowing what to do. Your whole body was telling you to get away, that it wasn't the time, that this shouldn't happen. But something in his gaze, something in the way he held you, made your own thoughts fade away. The doubts and voices in your head seemed to fade away when his lips met yours, in an intense but silent way, as if there was no turning back. 

Despite what your mind was telling you, what was warning you that this could be a mistake, you couldn't help it. The touch of his body, the unexpected connection, made you lose control for a moment. The pressure in your chest disappeared, and for an instant, there was only the sensation of his lips, of his closeness, of the passion you hadn't planned.

You knew that, after all this, nothing would ever be the same again. But in that moment, you surrendered to the sensation, to the connection you both shared, even though everything around you told you not to let yourself go.

You both stayed there for a long time, in silence, only the sound of the water and the ragged breaths filling the air around you. There was no rush, no urgency to move away. The warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies enveloped you, and for a moment, you let yourself go, you let the chaos of the world be replaced by the calm that only he could offer you in that instant. The tension between you seemed to slowly fade away, as if time had stopped and everything else no longer mattered.

When you finally pulled away from him, a little dazed, it was Rafe who broke the silence with a soft, but determined voice. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand gently. 

You didn’t have time to say anything else before he led you out of the tub and into the bedroom, but you didn’t care. There was something comforting about the idea of ​​spending the night with him, of sharing a space, even if it was just for a few hours. You felt calmer than you had in days, something you didn’t even know you needed until that moment.

[wolvietxt]

🌀 quiet confessions w/ logan howlett.

logan wasn’t one for feelings. he’d spent most of his life keeping them buried deep beneath a thick layer of gruffness and blunt words. the world didn’t care about emotions, and neither did he. it was easier that way, safer. but then you came along - soft-spoken, gentle, but fierce when it mattered. you were like sunlight breaking through the cracks in a storm, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, you were slowly but surely wearing him down.

at first, he hadn’t even noticed the shift. small things, like how he always found himself giving you the last of his food or offering to carry your bags even when he didn’t have to. it wasn’t anything huge. nothing that screamed “soft spot,” just little acts of consideration. but then he started to catch himself, noticing that his tone with you was softer, the words gentler. when you needed space, he gave it to you without asking. when you needed reassurance, he found himself offering it, even if he didn’t know exactly what you were looking for.

it started small - just a few lingering touches when he handed you something, a brush of his hand against yours. but over time, it became more. it wasn’t intentional at first. it wasn’t like he planned it, but slowly, he realized that when you were around, he wasn’t as gruff. when you spoke, he listened. when you laughed, it made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain. and the more time he spent with you, the more he found himself looking out for you, noticing when you were off, when something was bothering you.

he would catch himself watching you when you didn’t know, just observing the way you moved or the way you smiled. there was something about you that made him forget the world around him, like nothing else mattered when you were near. but the hardest part, the part that really threw him off, was how he started to feel different when it came to you. not just in the way he treated you, but in the way his thoughts lingered on you when you weren’t around. it was subtle at first - just a fleeting thought when he was on his own, imagining your smile or the way your eyes lit up when you were excited. but it grew. and that made logan uncomfortable.

he hated how much he liked it. hated how easy it was to slip into this new version of himself when he was with you. how much he enjoyed seeing your eyes light up when he said something, or how you seemed to calm just by the weight of his presence. logan had never been one to believe in ‘soft spots,’ but for you, he’d begun to feel like he was in uncharted territory.

it was one night, after a quiet dinner and an easy conversation, that he really started to feel it. you were sitting beside him, the two of you watching the flickering light from the fire cast shadows across the room. he wasn’t used to being so… comfortable. but with you, it felt right. when you shifted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder, he didn’t pull away. instead, he let his arm fall around you, pulling you in just a little tighter.

"you alright?" he asked, his voice unusually soft, the words almost a murmur. there was a tenderness in his tone that surprised even him, and it left a strange warmth spreading through his chest.

you nodded, your breath warm against his neck. "yeah, just… being with you like this is nice," you said, the words quiet, but they lingered in the air between you two.

logan let out a low breath, the weight of those words hitting him harder than he expected. he’d never been the type to say things like that, not out loud anyway, but when you were around, he found himself wanting to be more than just the rough-around-the-edges guy he’d always been.

he hadn’t meant to speak, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. "i don’t want you to think i’m just lookin’ for a way out of this," he said, his voice a bit gravelly with the hint of something else, something that made his chest tighten. he wasn’t sure what he was saying, but it felt important, like this was something that needed to be said. "you make me want to be a better version of myself."

there it was. the truth, spilling out without him meaning it to. he turned to look at you, his gaze searching your face, as if hoping you understood what he was trying to say.

your eyes softened, a smile playing on your lips, and you reached up to gently cup his jaw, the warmth of your touch sending a rush of heat through his veins. "logan," you whispered, your voice barely a breath against his skin, "i know."

the tenderness in your gaze caught him off guard, and before he could say anything else, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that was slow and deliberate. it wasn’t just a kiss - it was the kind of kiss that held everything unsaid between the two of you. everything that had been building for weeks, all the softness, all the quiet moments, all the subtle shifts in the way you looked at each other.

when you pulled back, logan’s heart was pounding, his breath coming faster. the look in his eyes was darker now, something almost feral stirring beneath the surface. "damn it," he muttered under his breath, the words thick with desire. his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his gaze locked onto yours. "i didn’t think i’d feel like this, but hell, i do."

you smiled, a mixture of warmth and mischief lighting up your expression, and you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but slow this time. it was hungry, desperate, and everything that had been building between the two of you came to a head in that moment. logan’s grip tightened around you as he kissed you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours with a fevered intensity that left no room for hesitation.

he didn’t need words anymore. not when his actions spoke louder than anything he could say. he was falling for you, and he knew it now. and there was no going back.

🌀 logan howlett : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @rooroen

@lemoanaid, @correnz, @coocoocachewgotscrewed, @ohmystvrk, @y08h

@lovely-liliacs, @california-boys-and-sun

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[sinofwriting]

Sex Positive - Charles Leclerc

Words: 2,470 Summary: Y/N goes on a podcast to talk about one thing and one thing only, sex. Note(s): NSFW just because this is just all sex talk, no actual sex, but it is the main topic of discussion. Part SMAU

Masterlist | Support Me!

“Y/N Y/L/N”

She smiles at the sound of her name, adjusting her headphones a bit until they finally seem to sit snug on her head.

“Welcome to the sex positive podcast.”

“Thank you for having me!”

“Thank you for coming on!” Elaine says. “When I reached out, I had hoped you would come on, but was shocked when you said yes.”

“I had to come on. We’ve known each other now for like two years?” Elaine nods at her words. “And yet despite that and this podcast doing so well, which by the way congrats on the new milestone. 250k is insane, and your profession we’ve never once talked about sex.”

“We have not.” Elaine laughs. “Probably because we also run into each other at events and dinners. Not the best place for me to ask how you feel about sex.”

“Well, I should tell you, I am coming on here to actually talk about how much I hate sex.” She says, ending her sentence with an eye roll, as she adjusts how she’s sitting, not even noticing her cardigan slip.

“Oh, yeah.” Elaine nods. “You hate sex.” She then nods to her left shoulder and her eyes drop and she lets out a laugh, seeing the love bites now exposed from the cardigan slipping.

“Like I said, I hate it.” She laughs.

“How is your relationship with sex? I mean, what has your experience been with it?”

She considers for a moment, “I’d say I have a good relationship with sex. It was never a topic that was shied away from when I was younger. My parents both gave me the talk, they made sure that I felt safe and comfortable to talk to them about it. They also never shied away from talking about how they had sex before they were adults, so if I did, they understood. All they asked was that I was safe.”

“And you think that’s helped?”

“Of course.” She nods. “I mean, I was sixteen when I had sex for the first time. Which was before all my friends and after that I was the one my girl friends came to for condoms and advice.”

“Was it good?”

She makes a face, “I mean, I think it was as good as two sixteen-year-olds having sex for the first time can be. A little awkward, some fumbling, finishing so quick.”

Elaine laughs, “Y’know that probably is as good as it can get.”

“Yeah.” She laughs.

“Were you like okay, I had sex this first time, I’ve experienced it, I’m good, or was it like me where you wanted to explore more.”

“Oh, I wanted to explore more. I didn’t have sex again for, I think like another two years. But I did so much self exploring. Just trying to see what I liked, what I was interested in, what I wasn’t interested in.”

“Porn?”

“Yes, there was quite a large amount of porn being watched. I read a lot of adult novels, guides, blogs, really just anything I could get my hands on.”

Elaine nods, tucking a leg underneath herself as she adjusts the microphone to be a little closer. “And this is something I’m curious about, how do you feel about porn? It’s something a lot of people are divided on, a lot of women especially.”

“I like porn. I enjoy it. Either just watching for pleasure or for research.” And she puts the last word in air quotes. “And please people listening or watching, if you see something you like in porn or are interested in, and this applies if you are reading something as well, look it up, read some guides and blog posts about it before doing it yourself. Just be safe.”

“Oh, please be safe. We have our own blog where we talk about different kinks, positions, various things and I urge you, along with everyone else who works on this podcast, to be safe with yourself and others.” Elaine says, addressing the camera before looking back at her. “So, you like porn.”

“Yes. Obviously not all porn is good, there are bad studios, there are overdone tropes, issues with the industry itself with it continuing to promote certain things because it earns them so much money. But I do enjoy it. It’s an industry that is always going to get criticized and hated and it deserves some of those criticisms without a doubt.”

“As a sex therapist, I do try to veer my clients away from porn, most of the time. And that’s mainly due to the acting of it. But it has its place in helping you learn and educate yourself. My issue is when people only look at porn and don’t look into things further.”

“Yeah, a hundred percent. It’s so important to not just take away things from porn but to take things away and expand on what you saw.” She nods.

“And of course I have to ask, what do you yourself like to watch in porn?”

“Hmm.” She thinks. “I think it depends on my mood. I think what I normally go for is something a little more rough. I’ve never really enjoyed watching people have like slow, gentle sex, not unless there’s something else there like overstimulation.”

“So, you like it rough?” Elaine asks.

She laughs, “Yes. It wasn’t something I had ever tried out before though until my current partner.”

“Really?”

She nods, “Really! I can admit that with my current partner, Charles, is where I’ve done a lot of exploring with someone else sexually. We’ve tried out many things.”

“Anything you guys didn’t like?”

“We don’t care for titles or honorifics.”

“You are crushing some dreams with that statement.”

“I know.” She laughs, well aware of the many tweets and things about wanting to call Charles daddy or sir. But it was just something that didn’t work for them in bed. The most was sometimes as a tease, she’d call him Mr. Leclerc and that was mainly to wind him up, not because the word itself was a turn on.

“What about things you’ve both enjoyed?”

“Oh, where to begin.” She teases, the both of them laughing. “Roleplay is one, bondage, edging, overstimulation. And I don’t consider this sex, but it is something we both enjoy a lot, cock warming.”

“That is quite the list.”

“Oh, just the tip of the iceberg.”

“Talk me through some of it. Bondage?”

“Yes. This was something we both had come into the relationship having never done before and wanting to do. We have the actual like rope you're supposed to use for when we do it, though sometimes we have used other things.”

Elaine shakes her head, grinning. “Of course you two have. I feel like if I see you two together, you’re always attached.”

“Pretty much. We both enjoy touch and Charles, despite all the interest in his personal life and how much already is exposed to the public, doesn't mind holding my hand or hugging or kissing me while in public.”

“Was that a worry of yours?” Elaine asks.

“Absolutely.” She nods, fingers interlacing. “I knew he’d at least, when I went to my first race, that he’d hold my hand, but I figured that might be it. And I didn’t want to bring it up since me going to Baku was so last minute for the both of us.”

“I’ve seen photos from that race and I would have never guessed that it was a last minute decision or that you two hadn’t talked about that yet.”

“Yeah, I got on a plane and was there by 11pm on Wednesday night, and the plane tickets had gotten bought maybe six hours before the plane took off. Charles had to send a photo of my ID to the front desk and had a spare key for me waiting since he had to be asleep already.”

“And then the next day, I mean you guys were very loved up.”

She grins, “we very much were. I think Charles knew I was nervous. We hadn’t officially been spotted together and he’s such a comforting person, very calming, so it was easy to not feel anxious with him holding me and pressing a kiss to my cheek every few minutes as y’know a bunch of people were taking photos of me and I’m being introduced to about a hundred people.”

“Which is overwhelming to say the least.”

“So overwhelming.” She nods.

“Though you might’ve liked that, since you’ve brought up overstimulation a few times.”

Her hands come up to hide her face, laughing into them, before they fall back into her lap. “I’d apologize, but I like what I like.”

“So it’s you being overstimulated.”

“Oh, absolutely. I find it very enjoyable.”

“I’ve never actually really talked about overstimulation, what is that you like about it? That you find to be enjoyable?”

“It’s the near constant feeling of too much, it’s so much pleasure just back to back, and everything depending on how you're doing it, can feel just like raw? And exposed? And you don’t think you can orgasm one more time, you just can’t again, but then you can and it feels at least in my experience just so good and then you do it again and again, and every time the pleasure of it just washing over you is even more and more and it’s the only thing you can focus on, everything else just fades away.”

“You make me want to try it.” Elaine laughs.

—

Charles’ head immediately perks up when he hears the hotel door open. “Chérie! How was the podcast?”

She smiles, setting her bag down, before moving over to the couch where Charles is sitting and happily sitting in his lap before Charles can pull her down. “It was good.” She finally says after kissing him.

He hums, “How good?”

She thinks, playfully humming as her fingers run through his hair. “Very good. I think your fans will want to kill me and so will Ferrari.”

He frowns, arms tightening around her. “Ferrari knows that you are allowed to do as you’d like. It is not like with,” He stops himself.

“I know, Charles.” She soothes. “But, they will be upset with me considering me talking about my sex life is talking about your sex life.”

He huffs, obviously not liking it, but he hopes that the podcast will do well, be received well, so at least Ferrari will be forced to accept it because fans like it.

“Did you mention me?”

Her eyebrow raises, “No. I want on a podcast to talk about my sex life so you obviously didn’t come up.”

He pouts at the tease and she can’t resist pressing a kiss to his pouty lips.

“Yes, I mentioned you. Multiple times and by name.”

He hums, moving his hands under her cardigan and top. “What did you say?”

“That we’ve done a lot of things together. That we like certain things.”

When she had accepted the invite it was only after a long talk with Charles, one she had to force, to go over what she could and couldn’t mention. Charles had been fine with her mentioning whatever she wanted. Uncaring that it would be out for the world to see, his colleagues, friends, and even family if for some reason they decided to click on it. He had stuck by that after their talk, though had asked her to keep most of the details of their roleplay and their love of rough sex to a minimum.

And it had been easy to not talk about what kind of roleplay they did and while rough sex had been mentioned twice, they were brief, just establishing her love of it.

“It did make me want to roleplay our favorite thing again.”

His eyes light up at her words.

It wasn’t often something they did, their favorite roleplay scenario, not when it required her to be in a certain headspace to really work, but she wants and craves it so much.

“You want to be my innocent little girl?” His voice has a bit of rasp, his fingers resting on her back, stretching out.

“Yes.” She breathes.

He leans forward, giving her a hungry kiss, his and her last chance to lose control, before pulling away. “Go get ready for me, bébé. I’ll find a place to have dinner.”

---

[sweetshuga]

Heather ✰ MS

───~𓆩♡𓆪~───

bsf!matt! When he talked about how much he missed his ex—totally oblivious to your feelings. [Light angst]

wc. 1.2k

note. English is not my first language! Requested!

Today was just like any other day, mundane to say the least. You had rolled out of bed, washed up, ate breakfast and wore comfy lounge wear. You were just about to watch a movie when your phone rang. Putting the bowl of snacks and the remote down, as you took the call.

Your face immediately lit up with a grin when you heard his voice, suppressing the urge to giggle and kick your feet as you felt that giddy and light feeling. The conversation flowed naturally as you talked, smiling to yourself.

Matt suggested a movie night through the phone, making your grin wider, and of course you said yes. It would’ve been stupid not to.

The drive to his place wasn’t long, but the rain made it a bit difficult to drive. It was raining like cats and dogs—probably the most rainy day in months. It wasn’t raining when you walked out of the house, but it was pouring halfway through the drive.

You groaned in annoyance when you saw the traffic jam in front of you, slowing down your car since it was slippery with all the rain. The time ticked slowly, as slow as the traffic that barely moved an inch.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Matt saying that he already prepared the snacks and not to worry about it. You chuckled to yourself – you were thinking about stopping by a grocery store on your way – before replying with a simple "okay, be there in a bit, traffic jam, yikes".

You finally pulled up at their place, looking in the visor mirror to make sure you looked alright. Sighing as you got out of your car, just to get heavily rained on as you briskly walked to their front door, giving it a few knocks. Nick opened the door and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he let you in, "You’re soaked," he stated the obvious.

"Pause," he laughed, "shut up, but really, did you fucking walk here? You’re drenched." You shook your head, purposely making the water in your hair go everywhere, eliciting an annoyed groan from Nick. "No, I didn’t, but I did walk here from my car."

"Your car? The one parked right beside our front door?" You laughed heartily at his disbelieving tone, "kid, it’s raining like a fucking waterfall, just a few seconds and I’m wet— pause." Matt walked out of his room at the sound of the chattering downstairs, "Hey, you’re finally here!" He called out from the top of the staircase.

You looked up and playfully rolled your eyes, "yes, finally here, because of a certain someone I nearly drowned in the rain outside." Matt laughed and walked down the stairs, his hair bounced with his steps, looking as good as always.

"Was that funny?" You asked Nick, making him shake his head with a judging look on his face, "where’s Chris by the way-" "he’s sleeping, c’mon let’s go watch that movie, I’ve been waiting for you, you know?"

"I think I know that much," you let yourself get dragged upstairs and into his room, hearing Nick shout that he was gonna nap as well before the door closed behind you with a soft click.

𓆩♡𓆪

The first movie ended rather quickly and as you two scrolled through the catalogue to watch another one, Matt suddenly seemed a bit tense, like he had something to say but didn’t know if he should. And of course you noticed it, you were looking at him the whole time, after all.

"You okay? Y’seem a lil’ tense," he sighed softly, "it’s nothing–" your skeptical look combined with the overall cozy vibe of the room broke down his resolve as quickly as he built it and he spilled his guts out. "Fine, just don’t look at me like that."

You listened intently, making sure he knew that you were listening. "And I don’t know... I just miss her, a lot." You froze, but quickly composed yourself, not wanting him to catch that. "Your ex? Y’still miss her?" Repeating his words, unable to grasp your head around what he just said.

He simply nodded, "I just feel like I did a mistake letting her go like that you know? I should’ve fought for her," you felt a tinge of sadness, you had thought that he finally moved on. It didn’t help that he was giving you mixed signals lately, being clingier than usual, jokingly calling you pet names.

He sighed and kept on telling you how much he missed his ex and how much he wanted her back, and the more he spoke, the worse you felt. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you knew it would look odd if you start crying.

Desperately trying to gulp back your tears as you listened to him passionately talk about his ex. She was beautiful, smart and just the epitome of a dream girl. He was none the wiser to the tears starting to stream down your face, still rambling on about his and his ex’s happy memories.

You wanted to just run out of there, embarrassed, but the heavy rain had become a thunderstorm outside. You couldn’t possibly drive back home, it would be too dangerous, but you couldn’t just sit there and let your heart break more than it already has.

That’s when you accidentally let out a quiet chocked sob, and Matt immediately tensed and looked at you. "Hey... why... why are you crying?" His voice was soft and concerned as he spoke, the gentleness made your tears stream faster. Your face heated up in embarrassment that he caught you crying.

You stood up abruptly and wiped your tears, "It’s nothing, something got in my eye." Even you knew your excuse sounded like a bunch of bullshit, but what could you say otherwise? That you cried because you thought he finally reciprocated your feelings but was still hung over his ex? "Hey, wait, what—" he called after you as you walked out, making a lame excuse about needing the bathroom.

Once inside the bathroom, you sat on the floor, hugging your knees. You made sure to lock the door, after all, you didn’t want Nick or Chris to catch you crying. A soft knock came on the door, once, twice, and on the third he spoke. "Please, open up."

You kept quiet, not trusting your voice, and just listened to him talk. "I don’t know why you were crying earlier, but talk to me, pretty... Tell me, you know I would listen to you, please?" Your heart ached at the pet name, how could he call you names like that when he couldn't even reciprocate your feelings for him?

You knew it was just something between friends, but that made it hurt more—the realisation that you were just a friend. You were envious of any and every girl he dated or liked, they had the privilege to be liked and loved by the guy you desperately wanted.

After a stubborn silence, he finally picked up on the hint. You said nothing as he sighed and walked away from the door, his footsteps fading down the hall. You couldn’t believe he didn’t try any harder, he had just left like that after a few minutes of trying to talk to you, it all added to the hurt you were feeling.

Your heart ached painfully as more tears fell down your face, but what could he possibly do when you’ve locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to open it—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a key twisting in the bathroom door lock.

𓆩♡𓆪

wc. 1,279

pt. 2 3 Bonus

Masterlist 𓆩♡𓆪 Taglist

Taglist: @strnilolover @mattsfavoritestar @sophand4n4 @tpwktahlz @lilyyliloo @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @queenshet @chrisstopherfilmed @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @sofiaaguilaxx

© sweetshuga (& the anon that requested this, luv u<3)

[imorynn]

"i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?"

my chest literally ached — I am unwell but in the bestest way possible —

the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror.

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert.

The way I see this ^^^ — those EYES. I am NOT okay — I am a hole for this woman — The way you embody her is just… *loud smacking chef’s kiss*

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens.

"lilia." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you.

your pen is so immaculate and beautiful — this is poetry right here : “my little piece of divinity”, oh my fucking gosh😭

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia's lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself.

"you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n." you chuckle when she says this.

"while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick."

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm.

"fix it for me?" she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again.

Again : I am a hole.

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. "do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?"

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. "you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel."

THIS IS WHAT I MOTHERFREAKING YEARNNN FOR. AND THE WAY I CAN HEAR THIS LEAVING HER LIPS. FERAL.

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. "it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

You took the words right out of my mind and heart — The preciseness and literature used in your writing — did not fail to create such PERFECT and BEAUTIFUL imagery! This is so passionate and beautiful — I just want to close my eyes and shift into the reader’s position. You are indeed a wonderful author, and I look forward to reading more of what you give us! <33333

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia." 

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing. 

but you feel, oh, you feel. 

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever. 

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back. 

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?" 

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror. 

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert. 

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you. 

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy. 

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you. 

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face. 

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind. 

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air. 

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself. 

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”  

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm. 

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again. 

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace. 

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore. 

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck. 

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her. 

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable. 

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes. 

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman. 

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more. 

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her. 

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds. 

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line. 

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint. 

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.  

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her. 

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her. 

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash. 

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away. 

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling. 

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.” 

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you. 

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?” 

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum. 

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath. 

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again. 

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!” 

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm. 

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm. 

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris. 

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back. 

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.” 

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains. 

[svearehnn]

sunlight in burgundy | azriel x reader

Summary: Velaris is a place of healing, so no wonder you ended up at the House of Wind. However, you didn't expect to be welcomed by a gentle male and a leather-bound book.

a/n: i don't know what this is!!! just wanted to write and this came out. enjoy!!

Mahogany doors greeted your view, colossal and menacing, hiding anything and everything from your sight. With a deep breath and shaking hands you pushed the doors open. Sunlight greeted you, seeping in from rounded windows that seemed to take up the whole wall. They were open, their burgundy curtains fluttering in the wind. You took in the room with wide eyes, noting the shelves of books, the greenery hanging from the ceiling and winding around the furniture, the matching chairs that held a figure. A sharp breath entered your lungs as you noticed him, his hazel eyes already tracking you. 

“Hello,” he murmured, voice crackling like wood on a fire, his thin, leathery wings shifting ever so slightly as the word left him. You stood still like a deer in the eye of a hunter, afraid to move, afraid to breathe. Of course, the first time you dared to leave your room since you were saved and you had to come across another soul.

“Um,” you stuttered, voice stuck within your throat. “Hi.” His lips curved up in a slight smile, thumb marking his page as he shut the book he was reading.

“How are you?” You took a miniscule step backward, your gaze never leaving his form, hackles on high alert. He wasn’t a threat, you knew that, yet your body reacted otherwise.

“Um,” fell from your lips once again. You blinked slowly, eyes darting down to the book in his hand before landing back upon his face. He followed your line of sight with a quirked brow and a gentle expression as he shifted in his seat, bringing his book up from his lap.

“Were you looking for one of these?” You nodded and swallowed the lump that had settled in your throat before taking a tentative step forward, despite your body screaming at you to run away. He became molasses as he stood, his movements smooth and still in an attempt not to spook you.

“What kind of book are you looking for?” One glance over your shoulder at the doors led you to the knowledge that they had shut behind you and that it would not be a quick escape, but for some reason, your frosted heart was starting to warm. You did want a book, after all. Maybe taking his advice wouldn’t be so bad.

“I just want a, uh, a book.” Your voice came out weaker than expected, a wince taking over your body at the softness you were displaying in front of this winged stranger. He didn’t comment on it, though. Rather, he nodded, and the shadows that seemed to surround him moved. A gasp fell from your lips without consequence, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you watched them disappear down the aisles of books. When you glanced back at him, he was still watching; observing you, looking for something, but you didn’t know what. 

“I control them.” He spoke, jolting you out of your bewilderment. “I am a Shadowsinger.” You hummed, no words slithered up your throat, just awe. You had never met a Shadowsinger before. To be fair, you had actually never met a winged fae before. There were a lot of firsts happening for you in this moment.

“W-what do they do?” You whispered after a beat, catching the shadows in the corner of your eye as they came back to their master with something in hand. He smiled softly, just a tilt of his lips as you’ve seen before, and he took the item from his shadows’ cool grasp.

“They tell me things. Intel, mostly. They also help with moments like this. Here.” He held out the item, and now with the sun shining down on his glove-clad hand, you could tell that he was holding a leather-bound book. “It’s one of my favorites.” You nodded, eyes flitting between him and his outstretched hand. 

There was still a decent amount of distance between the two of you–distance that you were afraid to make disappear. However, if you wanted that book and the safety of your room back, you would have to move forward. You took a step toward him, and then one more, heart rabbiting in your chest as you extended unfounded trust to this unknown male. He waited patiently, head bowed, but his eyes never left your face, as if he was physically unable to look away. With a quivering hand you reached out and swiftly snatched the book from his outstretched hand and cradled it to your chest. His eyes twinkled as he let his arm fall limply down by his side.

“Thank you.” You murmured, gaze downcast, picking apart the threads in the ornate carpet that adorned the rustic wooden flooring.

“You’re welcome.” He responded, his voice warm and comforting, drawing you back in. With your line of sight connected once again, his mouth opened and he uttered his name. “I’m Azriel. And you are?” 

As you took a step back, your name fell from your lips on an exhale, fingers tightening on the spine of the book almost painfully. With a nod of your head you turned and beelined it for the doors, opening one just a crack so you could slip through. The sunlight and the breeze of Velaris faded away as you hurried back to your room to begin reading your new find, however, the mysterious male seemed to occupy your mind more than the book that he had handed to you. Maybe that chance encounter was not chance at all, but rather fate that bubbled deep within the Cauldron alongside a whisper of your names.

[rottenfyre]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ ꜱ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Maegor I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: You were always his. From the moment you were born. And it's going to stay that way, whatever you like it or not.

Warning: Targcest, Graphic depictions of violence, Non con, Maegor himself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to dalberadiata. Hope you enjoy!

Maegor kicked a rock with all the strength his young body could muster, the jagged stone skittering across the ground and disappearing into the brush. His chest heaved with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face contorted in a mask of anger.

But no matter how much he trained, no matter how hard he fought, his father’s gaze always passed over him. Like he wasn’t even there.

His foot slammed into another rock, as he ground his teeth in fury. He wanted to be king. He would be king. One day, they would all see—his father, his brother—all of them would see.

“Boo!”

A voice, sweet and sudden, pulled him from his thoughts. His body stiffened as he turned, already prepared to strike, but it was only her. His sister, always sneaking up on him, always playing her games. She popped out from behind a tree, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful grin on her lips.

“Did I scare you, Maegor?” she teased, laughing softly as she plopped herself down beside him on the grass without waiting for a response.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. Of course, he wasn’t scared. His hands flexed at his sides, still shaking with the remnants of his anger. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. Not today.

But she didn’t seem to notice. She never did. Instead, she sat beside him, her fingers absentmindedly plucking at the flowers that dotted the ground. She hummed softly, her hands busy weaving stems together as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I’ll be king one day,” he muttered, his voice low, angry. His fists tightened as he stared ahead, his vision still blurry with unshed tears. “You’ll see. I’ll be a great king. Someone important. Stronger than father. Stronger than anyone.”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t listening. She never really listened when he talked about his plans. She was too busy with her flowers, too lost in her own world of pretty things and laughter. He frowned, watching as she twisted the stems in her delicate hands, her smile never faltering.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling up again.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, as if his anger didn’t bother her at all. Her smile only grew, and she held up the thing she had been working on. “Done!” she announced, her voice soft and sweet, like the sound of a gentle breeze. She leaned over and placed it on his head—a crown of flowers, woven with care, resting lopsided on his dark hair.

Maegor blinked, confused, his anger momentarily forgotten. He reached up to touch the crown, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand what she had done.

“What is this?”

She smiled at him, that same sweet, soft smile that always made something in his chest ache. “Even if you don’t become king, you’re still my king, Maegor.” Her voice was full of warmth, full of love. “Always.”

He stared at her, the confusion in his eyes deepening. She was always like this—so full of life, so bright. Too bright for someone like him. Too soft for a world as harsh as theirs. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond.

But now, when he looked at her, the only thing that remained was death.

Her body was cold in his arms, a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes, once full of light, now stared blankly ahead, her mouth silent as always. But that was alright. She didn’t need to speak. She didn’t need to smile.

He still loved her.

Even like this.

She was dressed in beautiful silk, her hair brushed and perfect, her lips still stained with the remnants of the last kiss he’d given her earlier. She looked like a doll. Fragile. Beautiful. Untouched. He dragged his hand down her neck, savoring the coldness of her skin, feeling the shiver of pleasure that ran through him.

But the silk? That was a pity. He was going to rip that apart anyway.

He pulled her into his lap, her body limp and pliant, her head lolling to the side as he pressed his lips to her neck. He bit down, hard, savoring the taste of her skin, his teeth sinking in deep enough to draw blood. His hand slid between her legs, fingers pushing against her cunt, trying to get her wet. She didn’t move, didn’t react, but he didn’t care. She would be ready for him. She had to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into her skin, his voice dark and rough as he kissed along her neck, his bites growing harder, more savage. “You’ll give me a son. A true son. Something none of those useless cunts could do.” His fingers moved faster, harder, forcing her body to respond. “We’ll name him Aegon. After father. What do you think?”

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her face. Her tears were falling now, silent as always, sliding down her cheeks like the rain.

Oh, right. He had cut her tongue out.

He laughed then, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the room. How could he have forgotten? She had screamed, hadn’t she? Begged him to stop, to leave her alone. She didn’t want to be his wife. She didn’t want him. But that hadn’t mattered. Not to him. He had made sure she couldn’t refuse him ever again.

He wiped her tears with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth as he did. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “I love you still. I like you more like this.”

Then he kissed her, hard and rough, his mouth devouring hers as his hand gripped her neck, holding her in place. She didn’t kiss back, didn’t move, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need her to.

He shoved himself inside her, his thrusts brutal, each one harder than the last. Her body didn’t fight him, didn’t resist. She took him in silence, her tears falling faster now, her eyes empty as they stared at the ceiling. But Maegor didn’t stop. He pounded into her, growling with each thrust, determined to make her his in every possible way.

“You're mine,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked her harder. “Always have been and always will be.”

She didn’t respond. She never did. But that was fine.

When he was done, when her body was limp and unconscious beneath him, he pulled out, only to push his seed back inside her, forcing it deeper, making sure she would carry it.

“You’ll be a mother,” he whispered, his hand pressing against her stomach, possessive. “The mother of my child.”

His.

Always his.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[vrystalius]

Not saying “I love you” to the hashira

How would the hashira react to you not saying “I love you” back to them?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x gn!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

Sanemi not saying “I love you” back is extremely rare. It’s usually the case that the wind hashira is too distracted by something and instead of reincorporating your affection, he might mumble “Yeah, yeah” or a simple “Me too” under his breath, thinking he did say those three magic words properly, only noticing that he didn’t when he noticed that you were being pouty once he did manage to find time to solely focus on you.

Sometimes, when you two lay in bed together, you mumble a quiet “love you”. As you close your eyes and think that your husband is already deeply asleep, you hear Sanemi sleepily respond instinctively to your affirmation.

“Don’t let the rice eat you.”

At least he’s being concerned for your safety even in his dreams.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

It would actually make him really sad. Sanemi strongly believes that he probably did something to upset you, what other reason could be there for you not to reincorporate his words?

He’d silently glance at you every now and then throughout the whole day, trying to analyse your body language to find out if you’re upset at him. Sanemi would hover near you, almost like a kicked-puppy, still waiting on you to give him love, despite the situation of you not reincorporating those words was early in the morning and with that several hours ago. He needs you to reassure him, or else no missions will be finished that day.

“Hey, you forgot something.” He’d try to remind you, but you not knowing what he meant you just cock your head in slight confusion. Sanemi ran his fingers through his hair and sighed quietly. “Nevermind. Whatever.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

Impossible! Either you didn’t hear him over his mouth being stuffed with sweet potato fries, or he overthought the perfect moment on when to say his favourite three words to the point where he forgets to say them at all. After missing the perfect moment and not saying “I love you, Kyojuro’ll just give you a simple compliment or a wonky yet bright smile, trying to convey his love for you in that way.

If he sees you get confused or even sad about how he is not reincorporating your love, he’ll quickly almost yell the words out, not wanting to upset you.

“I love you! I promise I do!”

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

Kyojuro’s first instinct would be to think that you are just too busy or preoccupied to reply to him, especially with you having to run so many errands today. After a couple hours pass where you spend your time elsewhere, he’d briefly worry if there is something that is bothering you, but that thought quickly faded away since your husband is sure that you’ll share whatever troubles you when the time is right and you feel comfortable enough.

So, once he sees you again, Kyojuro’ll continue to give you affection and reassurance, trying to make you feel loved without words by giving you light pecks on your cheek, holding your hand while you two walked or taking you out on a small, unplanned date. He’ll tell you that he loves you again, watching you expectantly with big eyes until you finally utter the words that make his heart melt every time.

“I love you, my firefly!” He had a big grin on his face while those words left his mouth, now awaiting for your reaction. Chuckling quietly, you responded with a small kiss on his cheek. Kyojuro’s face briefly turned into a pout, wanting to hear you say it back. It was just too adorable to tease him like this…

Gyomei Himejima

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

The reason Gyomei barely says “I love you” is that he feels that actions speak louder, and besides, you already know that he loves you more than any words can ever express. Although, if you tell him that you love him, he will of course respond by reassuring you with a soft smile and leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back

If you don’t reincorporate his affirmation, Gyomei wouldn’t mind at all. Just like he does, you express your love for him in other ways: touching him in any way, kisses, small gifts or your presence alone is reassuring him of your love. Yet, it is nice to hear it every once in a while. If you ignore his “I love you” in order to tease him or whatever other reason, he grows very quiet and thoughtful. He wonders if you have any troubles or if he hurt you in any way, sitting down in a quiet area to reflect on all his actions and behaviours over the past weeks, praying quietly.

Your husband also will ask you outright if you are upset at him after pondering for a while. If you tell him no, Gyomei will grow even more worried. Perhaps you were using sarcasm? Surely something must’ve moved you to not respond to his affections, right?

“I love you, my light.” Your husband calls out to you, pulling your attention away from whatever you were doing, responding with a simple “Okay.” You watched as his whole face morphed into one of worry, him slowly retreating back into the gardens to continue to self-reflect and pray.

Giyu Tomioka

♡—Him not saying “I love you” back…

It happens on accident sometimes, Giyu either forgets or is too nervous to say it back. He’s not quite used to the idea of being loved and cherished by someone he loves so much, so his brain temporarily halts when you tell him that you love him. Sometimes, he gives you a nasty look on accident as a response, as if silently judging you for choosing someone like him to date and spend your time with. He hasn’t quite processed everything yet, so please forgive him when he either doesn’t respond or mumbled a very quiet “love you too”

⁎⁺˳✧༚

♡—You not saying “I love you” back…

His heart is shattered, thoughts about you loosing interest in him or not loving him anymore now running in circles over and over in his mind. Those three simple words can do so much with a person’s mind, can’t they? Giyu grows immediately extremely quiet, pulling away from you and heading off to any available mission right now or going to train, trying to give you space. He tries to concentrate on training or the missions but he keeps thinking about you not saying that you love him back. Giyu feels so nervous and nauseous about coming back home, thinking you are not there to greet him and gone forever, or suggesting to break up. He may be overreacting, but he just can’t help it!

Once the water hashira walks through the front door of your shared estate, carefully looking around for your presence, he spotted you in the bedroom. Giyu brought all the courage he had together for this: “I love you.” You lifted your gaze and glanced at him, giving your lover a small smile. “Love you too.”

Oh! His shoulders visibly sagged, tension leaving his body. He gave you an awkward nod before leaving. So his overthinking was all for nothing.

💠

This was inspired by this post (from the Genshin fandom) and I wanted to write my own kny version of it, even if it’s not as long or detailed as the original XD

Anyways, I somehow got sick again and wrote this during the periods I did not feel nauseous but I hope you all enjoyed this anyway <3

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33