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luvyeni · 2 days ago

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ALL FOR YOU 𝕼. ( 이민형 )

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이민형 x fem!reader ) ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. idol!mark x idol!reader, unprotected sex , oral ( f ) , little bit of jealousy word count. 2.5k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library !

synopsis … you knew mark and you would eventually cross paths; being in the same company and all — but this , this was stressing you out.

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ this one i like , so good job to me …

you knew mark and you would eventually cross paths; being in the same company and all — but this , this was stressing you out…

“okay yn since you’re the youngest; you can pair up with jisung since he’s also the youngest.” you and the tall boy exchanged small awkward smiles. “aren’t they so cute together?” you heard yuna whisper to mark; you boy next to you clearly heard because he started to turn a deep shade of red — not cause he liked you, but because knew you were with mark.

you and mark met when you were still a trainee under sm. you’d accidentally walked into the wrong practice room, mark so happened to be in there… to say you were embarrassed was an understatement. he found it cute and endearing, watching you scramble to find the right words — but all you could manage was a small squeak.

from that day on; he tried to seek you out, finding you in the practice room, pretending to be confused. looking for you in the cafeteria where you sat with the other trainees and future group mates. he never said anything, no, he didn’t want to get you in trouble; but that didn’t stop him from looking; and falling for what he saw.

he knew what he was getting himself into when he asked you out; he was not only asking someone younger than him, but his junior at that — he was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t help it. he liked you so much and you liked him.

your debut was announced about a month after you and mark began to secretly date, he was so excited for you; that was also the first time you two had sex and it was mind blowing.

you both didn’t want anyone to found out about your relationship; but unfortunately haechan has the code to mark’s apartment and loves to show up announced sometimes — and after a awkward first meeting with haechan and you, and mark pinning him down to the floor to get him shut his mouth; he promised not to tell staff… but that didn’t stop him from telling the other dreamies.

you decided to not tell your members at all — which you are currently regretting. “mark is kinda cute don’t you think?” yuna sat next to you as you sat down for a quick break. “huh?” you said. “and he so obviously wants me, you see how low his hands went.” you followed her gaze to your boyfriend who was talking to your manager. “he wants me for sure, should i ask for his number?”

you were stunned; how do you answer that question? “um i don’t think that’s a good idea , we really aren’t supposed to be dating.” you said , how ironic. “besides he’s probably already in a relationship.” you said , hoping she’d drop it, the jealousy starting to boil inside your stomach. “so innocent yn , of course he doesn’t a guy as fine as he is , he’s probably fucking all around world he has no time to have a girl waiting for him.” she stood up ; walking away leaving you with a heavy heart and green with jealousy. “i have to use the bathroom.” you got up. “hurry back, we have to practice , this collab has to be perfect.” yuna said , nodded walking out the room.

more like slamming the door behind you in marks eyes. “what’s wrong with her?” haechan asked. “did you two fight?” the elder shook his head; in fact he just talked to you before you guys met up and you seemed excited to be working with him and his group. “her and member seemed to be having a conversation before she stormed out , maybe they’re having a argument.” jaemin said. “should i go after her?” mark asked; normally he wouldn��t ask a question like that, he’d just go, but there were a bunch of staff and cameras around he didn’t want anyone catching on. “duh , go.” chenle said. “we’ll make sure no one finds out anything.”

he nodded , standing up walking out the door. “hey mark.” yuna batted her eyelashes at the boy. “hi.” was all he said before leaving out to find you.

why were you even mad? you could’ve told her and ended it there. you just didn’t want to jeopardize your careers and ruin your groups reputation, you were still in your early parts of your career. “get it together, you’re a professional.” you said to yourself before walking out of the bathroom , only to be pushed back in.

“mark what the hell?” you shrieked. “did anyone see you?” you questioned. “what’s wrong?” mark said , looking into your eyes; his filled with worry. “nothing im fine.” you tried to walk out but he grabbed your wrist. “mark.” you frowned. “tell me what’s wrong , the way you slammed that door.” he said. “did you and your member have a fight?” he asked. “no.” you trailed off. “then what is it?”

“its stupid.” you whispered , eyes to the floor. “hey.” he grabbed your chin, lifting your head up. “nothing you feel is stupid to me.” his hand covered your cheek, caressing it softly. “so tell me what’s wrong baby.” you sighed before speaking up. “it’s yuna , she likes you.” you said. “she wants to ask for your number.”

he didn’t want to laugh, but the cute pout on your lips as you spoke, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “are you laughing at me?” you asked. “i told you it was stupid , let me go.” you pulled away from him , but he grabbed you , pulling you close to wrap his arms around you. “you’re just too cute baby , so jealous and so cute.” he said. “it’s not funny , i told her you probably have a girlfriend and you know what she said.” he smiled listening to you ramble. “she said there’s no way a guy as fine as you are isn’t fucking all around the world.”

“she said that?” he said; of course that wasn’t true. “yeah , can you believe it.” you said. “and i guess she wants to be next.” you pouted, slapping his arm. “don’t say it like it could be a possibility mark.” he winced , rubbing the spot. “baby you know it’s not a possibility, not even a 0.01% chance i would do that,” he said. “you sure?” he giggled, kissing your pouty lips. “100%.” you smiled. “now stop pouting and let’s get back to the practice room before they start to question our whereabouts.”

“wanna stay here with you.” you said , he smiled. “come over tonight , and you’ll have me all to yourself yeah?” he had you pinned against the sink. “you’d like that?” you bit your lip nodding. “yeah.” he was about to pull you into a kiss — when you both got a ping on your phones. he groaned , pulling away from you. “we have to go.” you said. “why now when im so hard,” he said. “just 5 more minutes.” your phones going off again. “i don’t think we can.” you said. “let’s go before they send a search party.”

you made your return first; coming up with a excuse to tell your leader; luckily she didn’t question it. “just get in line and get ready.” you nodded , standing next to jisung. “happy now?” he smirked , you rolled your eyes , pushing him. “look who’s back.” mark made his way back inside the room. “there were people at the vending machine,” he said. “at the vending machines and yet not a single snack or anything.” haechan said. “i ate it on the way back.” he gritted through his teeth , silently threatening the boy. “okay , okay let’s get back to practice.” the choreographer said ; mark giving you a quick glance and a wink making you smile as the music started.

“good job everybody.” the choreographer said; mark watched you begin to pack up. “here.” someone shoved a piece of paper in his face. “uh.” he looked up, yuna staring him in the face. “it’s my number.” she said. “oh , i don’t think — yuna lets go.” your leader called out for the girl. “here.” she dropped it in his hand making her way out ; you watched the whole thing. “yn.” he called out. “bye.” you gave him a tight lipped smile as you made your way out. “she’s jealous.” jeno said. “yeah no shit.” he tossed the paper in the trash.

“baby please talk to me.” you sat on his bed later that night , arms folded stubbornly against your chest. “you know what she did as soon as we got back to the dorms?” you said. “she went on and on how you couldn’t keep your eyes off of her boobs , how you were definitely into her and you taking her number solidified that.” you spat out , he laid against the headboard , his hand coming up to your thigh. “baby i told you i wasn’t , i threw the number away.” he whined. “and i wasn’t looking at her boobs , i was looking past her , looking at your boobs.”

“now isn’t the time for jokes mark.” you said flatly , trying to hold back a smile. “but it got you to smile.” he pulled you back against a smile. “mark.” he kissed behind your ear. “i don’t want anyone else but you.” he whispered, knowing what it did to you. “you’re so cute when you’re jealous , huffing and puffing.” he said , hands traveling down to your side. “makes me so hard.” he turned your head around, pulling you into a heated kiss.

he slipped his tongue inside your mouth , both of you moaning into the kiss , he flipped you over so he was on top. “so fucking pretty.” he dipped inside your neck. “you don’t know what you do to me , how much i wanted to pull you away from jisung.” he groaned. “his hands were too low on you.” he growled. “se-seems like you were jealous too.” you whimpered , he bit down on your neck. “fuck mark don’t leave any marks.” he licked the spot on your neck. “fuck of course i was jealous baby , i wanted to dance with you , not her.” he gripped your waist tightly. “all i could think about is you while dancing.”

he kissed down the valley of your breast. “the way you looked.” *kiss* “the way you talked.” *kiss* “the way you smelled.” he gave you one final kiss. “fuck and the way you taste.” he pulled your leggings down your legs , spreading them open. “ma-mark i need you.” you desperately mewled. “yeah?” he smirked. “need me to lick your pretty pussy.” he kissed your clothed cunt. “mhm pl-please.” he pulled your panties to the side; his cock twitching in his sweats. “look how wet you are.” he groaned. “all this for me baby?” you nodded , he gave your clit another kiss. “mhm fuck , you taste so good.” he dove into your heat , passionately licking your folds. “ma-mark , fuck that feels good.”

he hummed against your heat , holding your legs apart as he feverishly licked your folds. “fuck , fuck keep going.” your hand tangled up into his hair as your hips bucked up involuntarily. “fuck mark im gonna cum.” he replaced his mouth with his fingers , pushed two inside. “you’re so wet , gonna cum for me?” you nodded , the knot in your belly getting tighter. “cum for me then , be a good girl and cum for me.” you gasped out , the knot finally snapping as you came all over her fingers. “good fucking girl.” his voice filled with lust. “made such a mess on my fingers.”

he pushed his fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. “so sweet.” he said. “like fucking candy baby.” he untied the string to his sweats , pulling them down just enough to free his fully erected cock. “look how hard i am for you.” he pressed his tip against your hole. “only get like this for you.” he slowly slid inside you. “fuck mark , so-so big.” you moaned , he grunted. “sh-shit baby you’re so tight.” his cock slowly filling you up , his cock kissing your cervix. “love this pussy so much.”

he pulled out , stopping at the tip; pushing himself all the way in. “so so much.” he groaned. “mark faster.” you moaned. “faster?” he said , speeding up. “yes like that.” your fingers running through his hair. “no need to be jealous baby , it’s all for you.” he groaned. “all mines.” he groaned as you tugged at his hair. “it’s yours.” he whispered in your ear. “so take what’s yours baby.”

he pulled out of you; laying back letting you climb into his lap. “ride me baby , ride your cock.” he groaned as you held the base of his cock , sinking down on him. “fuck mark.” he watched in awe as you rode him; bouncing up and down on his length. “fuck that feels good princess , ride me , ride it like you own me.” he held your waist as you worked his cock. “fuck baby im about to cum.” he moaned out. “no-not yet , almost there.” you stuttered , legs faltering. “fuck , fuck mark im about to cum.”

he held your hips , bucking up into your needy cunt. “fuck baby cum.” he groaned. “cum.” both of you moaning out as you came at the same time , your head dropping in between his neck. “b-baby don’t leave any marks , my manager will kill me.” he sighed , loving the feeling on his lips … okay maybe he can’t take the scolding.

“what were you thinking , the makeup artist is gonna kill you if that isn’t gone by the performance.” you heard his manager scolding him as your group walked into the practice room. “next time at least put it somewhere no one can see.” the older man shook his head in disappointment. “so irresponsible.” you chuckled , covering your smile. he looked at you frowning. “guess he had too good of a time last night.” your other member said. “guess yuna was wrong.” you looked at yuna who looked upset upon seeing the mark on his neck. “let’s just get this over with.” she said stomping away; your other member was chuckling. “don’t worry she’ll get over it , if not oh well.” she said. “and don’t you laughed too much.” she turned to you. “what are you talking about?”

she rolled her eyes. “you think im dumb , if you aren’t careful you’ll be getting a scolding just like he is.” she said. “at least he’s smart enough to put it somewhere no one can see.” she walked away leaving you stunned; mark looking at you curiously. “what?” he mouthed , you pointed to your member. “she knows.” you mouthed back, he shrugged. “tell them all.”

guess it’s time to tell your members the truth.

©️LUVYENI

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no-1-rosalind-lang-apologist · 2 days ago

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Sorry it is 3AM and my field of study is more based on climate adaptation and mitigation as opposed to the hard science behind how climate systems work so I may not be able to explain this perfectly.

However. Unless I am completely misremembering David Wallace-Wells’ work, while it is true that scientific predictions for the degree of warming that we expect has come down over the past couple decades or so, the predictions for the severity of impacts that we will see at lower levels of warming have increased. So that is just really not an honest way of framing what he’s talking about. I believe Genevieve Guenther has a really well written criticism of the claims he makes in her book The Language of Climate Politics if anyone is interested in that.

It is important to understand that at present levels of warming we are seeing impacts that were expected at higher levels. And many climate scientists are massively concerned about this.

And like. Sure this still doesn’t mean that we’re all going to live through some sort of sci fi apocalypse movie. However I am from Florida. I expect many of the places I grew up around to become uninhabitable within my lifetime due to a combination of sea level rise, hurricanes, and extreme heat.

Also, sure we do technically have greater capabilities to adapt and respond to natural disasters. But like. I am currently in the works of beginning a semester long research project into sea level rise adaptation and we absolutely are not prepared for the scale of disasters that future climate impacts will bring. Hell we’re not even prepared for what’s happening now. My hometown was still recovering from major infrastructure damage from Hurricane Ian from 2022 when it was hit by both Milton and Helene over the course of THREE WEEKS. Like you have to realize that these horrible things that you see on the news still have effects years down the line after you’ve stopped hearing about it.

And it is also true that scientists cannot rule out the possibility of human extinction. I do not say this to fear monger. But people deserve to know that. Like we are very likely going to hit potentially major tipping points within our lifetimes.

Also. I am so sorry but choosing to believe that demand for renewables and technological innovation will save us is bullshit. The market will not work this out. Speaking as someone who is in the built environment fields there are tons of sectors other than just energy that are much more difficult to decarbonize. And the fantasy belief that like. “Green growth” on a finite planet will save us from climate disaster is just wrong. I am so sorry. But no. I can try to follow this up with more resources tomorrow. But no. This entire post is so full of misinformation that I just. I cannot figure out how to coherently explain this. Just no.

Also I am so sorry but we are not fucking going to re lower global temperatures through net negative emissions. That is literally the most absolutely bullshit claim. Jesus fucking Christ. Literally any amount of digging into carbon capture technologies will reveal that it is bullshit. It is quite literally just a bullshit diversion tactic from fossil fuel companies. All of the really great cool studies you keep seeing about how carbon capture is going to save us are being funded by them. I believe that like. Fucking Columbia Climate School is taking a ton of funding from them last I checked. It is just an excuse for fossil fuel companies to be able to keep emitting and to make people feel like the change necessary to actually tackle the climate crisis isn’t necessary. When it is. It is the same shit as tobacco companies funding studies into literally any other cause of lung cancer other than smoking.

Just like. Let’s please have a little bit of reading comprehension here too. Like okay we have avoided truly apocalyptic levels of global heating? For who? For the residents of island nations whose land will no longer be habitable due to sea level rise? For the 1,301 people who died on the Hajj pilgrimage when temperatures exceeded 50C/122F? For the people in Asheville, North Carolina who were found dead in trees because they jumped out of their upper story apartment windows and tried to climb when the water rose too high? In a town that is thousands of feet above sea level and hundreds of miles from the coast. Be so fucking serious with me right now.

This is a moment that is unprecedented within geologic history. Much less within the time that has provided a stable climate for our species to evolve. We are currently living within a mass extinction. That is fucking apocalyptic. I do not say this to fear monger. I do say this because people have the right to have an accurate understanding of what is happening so that people can understand the urgency of the present moment. I do not say this to spread the idea that things are so bad that we’re doomed and should just give up. Because that is also a horrible way of looking at this and is also very unproductive. But like. People don’t need to be lied to. People need to be educated on the actual realities of the current situation. This is not a fight that ends unless we get to the absolute worst case scenario of human extinction. Which to be clear is not something that is expected. It is just something that cannot be ruled out. Just please please do not spread this misinformation. I can try to follow this up with more resources tomorrow and do a better job of evaluating the things they’re saying and the sources they’re using.

We have already averted truly apocalyptic levels of global warming.

Yes, read that again. Let it sink in. This is what the science now says. We have already averted truly apocalyptic global warming.

To quote David Wallace-Wells, author of The Uninhabitable Earth, from his huge feature in the New York Times:

"Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders, we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years... The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse." (New York Times, October 22, 2022. Unpaywalled here. Emphasis mine. And yes, this vision of the future is backed up by the current science on the issue, as he explains at length in the article.)

So we've already averted truly apocalyptic warming, and we've already cut expected warming IN HALF in just the past five years.

The pace of technology, of innovation, of prices, of feasibility, of discovery, of organizing, of grassroots movements, of movements in other countries around the world, have all picked up the pace so fast in the last five years.

Renewable technology and capacity are both increasing at an exponential rate. It's all S-curves, ones that look like this:

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024.

How much more will we manage in another five years? Another ten? Another twenty?

I know the US is about to fucking suck about the environment for the next four years. But the momentum of renewable energy is far too much to stop - both in the US (x) and around the world.

(Huge shoutouts to India, China, and Brazil for massive gains for the environment in renewables, and Brazil for massive progress against Amazon deforestation.)

We're going to get there.

Say it with me. We're going to get there.

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museiest · 1 day ago

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WE'RE MEANT TO BE TOGETHER .ᐟ gojo satoru

PAIRING. ceo!gojo x kindergarten teacher!reader

ABOUT. ceo!gojo discovers he has a son which leads him to the harmony fields kindergarten, where the woman who almost ran into him with her car in the morning is his son's teacher and the cause of his future sleepless nights.

NOTES. it's finally here!! had some trouble with the written part of this smau so that's why i took so long in posting it, this was the winner in this poll. this is a multi-part smau. harmony fields is the name of the kindergarten.

WARNINGS. enemies to lovers ⋆ typos ⋆ ignore timestamps ⋆ english is not my first language ⋆ written part (is sh!t y'all) ⋆ gojo's is insufferable ⋆ utahime's the owner of harmony fields ⋆ written part takes place a day after the incident and it's 1,04k words.

part one | part two | part three | more?

“Okay. . .remember what we practiced?” the white-haired man immediately asked as he helped the boy out of his car.

The kid nodded slowly and looked up at Satoru, waiting for him to hand over the chips he bought for him on the way here.

“I’ll give them to you, kid, but first, let’s practice one more time,” Satoru warned, “You're going to say that i'm your dad and that your mom is away on a trip, 'kay?”

“But you said that you weren't my dad, and my mom isn’t on a trip,” the boy pointed out seriously, making the blue-eyed man sigh.

“Just say it, please? if you don’t, i’ll take you to the police station and let them deal with you," Satoru threatened with a unsettling smile.

“He’s my dad, and my mom is away on a trip,” Megumi repeated, irritated by the man.

Truth is, he missed his mom and he wished she was there with him instead of the stranger who was taking care of him now.

“Yes! Good boy,” Satoru ruffled the Megumi’s hair like he was petting a dog, he definitely wasn't used to dealing with kids, especially one his age.

How do you even treat a five-year old? Was what had been going through Gojo's head since his son arrived at his apartment.

“Ah, Gojo! Right on time, looks like having a son is finally doing you some good,” Utahime called out as she walked towards the entrance of her kindergarten, where the dad and son duo were.

“Utahime, my least favorite person! it's been, what? two months?" he sneered.

“It’s always such a disgrace seeing you, Gojo," she said bitterly before putting on her best smile and looking at the five-year-old, “And you must be Megumi, right?”

“He’s my dad, and my mom is on a trip,” Megumi stated almost robotically, making the Harmony Field's director laugh.

“Wow, how cool!” she exclaimed, gesturing for them to follow her inside.

“Yeah, his mom is at a seminar in Europe,” the ceo lied smoothly.

“Europe? You must be very proud, Megumi,” the dark-haired woman tried to make some chitchat but Megumi remained silent, walking behind them as quietly as possible.

“’Gumi doesn’t talk much, but it’s something i- we’ve been working on. . .” Satoru excused himself with another lie, though Utahime barely paid attention, too focused on you approaching. It was the perfect opportunity to introduce you to the new dad and the new kid joining your class.

“Yn! Come over here, this is Gojo Satoru and his son, Megumi,” Utahime introduced, making your eyes widen in surprise as soon as you locked eyes with the man you almost hit with your car on your way to the kindergarten.

“You?/You?” you both said at the same time, his eyes sharp enough that if looks could kill, you'd be in a coffin with people saying how good of a person you were; and you just forced a polite smile to hide your annoyance at seeing him at your workplace, such arrogant man didn't seem like a father to you, not even a bad one, he just seemed like the kind of guy who didn't care for kids at all but there he was, putting on his best smile with his son who didn't look like him at all except for his eyes and messy hair.

“You two know each other?” your friend and colleague asked, looking between you both expectantly.

“Yeah. . .turns out this dad likes to go running in the middle of the street in the morning,” you muttered through gritted teeth, making the man scoff.

“Right. And it seems like there's more and more of those crazy drivers these days, dangerous, isn’t it?” Satoru shot back. You barely heard Utahime’s response, too focused on the annoyance bubbling inside you. Who did this guy think he was? He had to be some kind of irresponsible deranged idiot.

You rolled your eyes once more before glancing down and noticing the little boy looking at you curiously.

You crouched down to meet his eyes and be able to speak to him directly, the first impression with children was always the most important to you rather than the one with the parent, “Hi, sweetheart! you must be Megumi, how are you?” you asked kindly, you've loved kids since forever and it didn’t matter that this particular kid belonged to the most insufferable man you'd ever met.

Megumi’s eyes looked sad, distant and lost, as if all he wanted was to be anywhere but here. Still, you tried talking to him, sensing his struggle in interacting with people.

When he didn’t respond, you continued, “You know, in the classroom there's lots of kids your age who can’t wait to meet you. They’ve been so excited ever since we told them a new friend for them was coming. And guess what? Today’s your lucky day because we have a special activity with puppies! How does that sound?” you asked with a warm smile and at the mention of 'puppies,' Megumi’s eyes lit up, an expression of excitement appearing on his face for the first time since he got there along with a soft smile. Even Satoru seemed surprised to see it, he hadn't smiled at all when he was at his apartment and now he does with a complete stranger? not that he wasn't one either but the father (if you could call him that) had tried everything the day before to make the kid laugh and all he got was a 'you're not funny' from him.

“Are there really going to be puppies?” Megumi asked, a special glimmer in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Of course! So what do you say? Want to wait for them with the other kids?” you asked, extending your hand to his smaller one. Megumi glanced between his dad and you before nodding and taking your hand with a small smile still on his lips and that was the first step to make this kid as happy as he could be.

Without hesitation, you led him towards the rest of the class, happy that your first interaction with the boy had been a success. You just hoped things would stay that way, today, tomorrow and hopefully forever.

ARTIFACTS .ᐟ

• hari fushiguro is megumi's aunt, she's took care of him for two weeks and that was it. she didn't have enough money to raise him and her daughter so she went to gojo's apt since she remembered he had a lot of money when they hooked up and made up a story about her sister and him.

• toji's dead and tsumiki doesn't exist in this one since toji died before megumi was born.

• his mom died two weeks ago but since he's still a kid, he doesn't know how to process it so he thinks his mom left him and that's why his aunt didn't want him either.

• ofc gojo isn't his father but they make him believe he is.

• that's all!! enjoy <3

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arilevenatz · 3 days ago

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Unscripted

Pairing: idol!Yunho x idol!Reader

Genre/trope: fluff, idol romance

Word count: 8.4k

Warnings: very, I mean veryyyy minute talks of suicide, reader has trauma, she had a bad childhood, Imk if I missed any

AN: I always wanted to write an idol x idol reader. And now here we are, our own golden retriever got a fic now. Yes I had fun playing with the characters. The group I created, I really loved how it turned out and I will be using this group again in future idol x idol projects

Yunho had always been the one to capture attention. With his bright smile and natural charisma, he easily stood out. As the lead dancer and main vocalist of ATEEZ, his talent was undeniable. His 6’1” frame and athleticism only added to his presence, making him a natural on stage.

Performing live was where Yunho truly thrived. His dance moves were smooth yet powerful, and his deep voice melted effortlessly into each melody. The energy he brought to every performance made it clear that he was in his element, pouring his heart into every note.

Offstage, Yunho was the playful mood maker. He was always cracking jokes, pulling pranks, or finding ways to make the group laugh. But his fun-loving side hid a deep dedication to his craft. He spent countless hours perfecting his moves, driven by a desire to do his best for ATEEZ and their fans.

Despite his lively exterior, Yunho often found himself reflecting on his connections with others. His passion for music had always led him to form bonds with fellow idols, but lately, he couldn’t help but feel that someone new was beginning to take up more space in his thoughts.

The girl group was called Elysium, a name that captured the dream-like, otherworldly energy they exuded on stage. Elysium’s music was a blend of powerful performances and deep, emotive lyrics, making them stand out in a crowded industry. Their fandom, known as Stellar, was dedicated, passionate, and fiercely protective of the group’s integrity. Elysium had quickly risen to fame, drawing attention not only for their talent but for their strong bond as a group.

---

Lee Yeji

00', Aries

Leader, Rapper

Yeji was the fiery leader who held the group together with her unwavering confidence. As the lead rapper, her verses were fast and powerful, leaving an impression every time she stepped up to the mic. Her assertive personality made her a natural leader, always taking charge and ensuring the group stayed on track. Offstage, Yeji balanced her strong exterior with a deep care for her members, always looking out for them like a protective older sister.

—

Hwang YN

01', Gemini

Producer, Lyricist, All-rounder

YN, the second oldest in the group, had a deep, commanding voice that often startled people when they first heard it. As a producer and lyricist, she played a key role in crafting Elysium’s unique sound. While she often appeared emotionless on the outside, YN had a dry wit that made those around her laugh without her intending to. Her calm demeanor and focus on the creative side made her a cornerstone of the group, though her voice alone commanded respect.

---

Jang Wonyoung

04', Sagittarius

Center, Visual, Vocalist

Wonyoung was the visual and center of the group, with an almost ethereal beauty that captured attention immediately. As a vocalist, her voice was sweet and clear, adding a unique texture to Elysium’s sound. Despite her grace and elegance, Wonyoung’s warmth and playful energy offstage made her approachable and beloved by fans and fellow idols alike.

---

Phan Hanni

04', Virgo

Main Vocalist

Hanni’s voice was the heart of Elysium’s music, with a range that effortlessly transitioned between delicate ballads and powerful anthems. Though she was soft-spoken offstage, her voice spoke volumes in every performance, conveying emotions with a depth that moved listeners. Hanni's humble nature and dedication to her craft made her one of the most respected members of the group, always striving to perfect her vocal technique.

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Kang Haneul

05', Libra

Lead Dancer, Maknae

As the youngest, Haneul was the maknae of Elysium, but her skills as the lead dancer made her shine brightly on stage. Her movements were a blend of strength and grace, making every performance feel like an art form. Despite being the youngest, Haneul’s maturity and dedication to dancing set her apart. She was quiet and reserved offstage but showed an intensity and passion whenever she was on the dance floor.

Elysium’s concept was unlike anything the industry had seen before. They blended nostalgic, early-2000s vibes with a modern twist, creating a sound that felt both fresh and timeless. Their aesthetic was a blend of minimalist cool and raw authenticity—think vintage street style meets ethereal elegance. Each member’s individuality was celebrated, with no exaggerated theatrics or over-the-top concepts. Instead, Elysium’s power lay in their simplicity and authenticity, capturing the hearts of fans by just being themselves.

Their music was a perfect mix of catchy hooks and introspective lyrics, with a laid-back, almost effortless vibe that made each track feel personal. They didn’t rely on flashy choreography or ostentatious visuals; instead, their performances were intimate, like you were watching them in a moment of pure, unfiltered connection.

Elysium’s fashion mirrored this concept—loose, comfortable fits with a nostalgic edge, often accessorized with subtle details that gave them a chic, effortless flair. Their look was cool but approachable, embodying a laid-back confidence that made them stand out without trying too hard. Their style was a reflection of their personalities: fresh, real, and a little bit rebellious.

Their concept was bold in its restraint—no gimmicks, no forced personas—just raw talent and a genuine connection to their music and fans. Elysium wasn’t just a group; they were a movement, breaking barriers with a sound and aesthetic that felt both innovative and incredibly personal.

Elysium debuted in 2020 with their breakout single "Timeless Echoes", a song that perfectly encapsulated their unique blend of nostalgia and modernity. The track featured mellow, laid-back beats with hauntingly beautiful vocals that echoed their raw, authentic energy. The lyrics, penned by YN, were introspective and reflective, exploring themes of self-discovery, love, and the passage of time. "Timeless Echoes" became an instant favorite, resonating deeply with fans who were drawn to its simplicity and emotional depth.

Their debut album, "Elysian Days", was a seamless reflection of their concept—minimalistic, authentic, and grounded in real emotions. Every track on the album had been carefully crafted by YN, who not only wrote the lyrics but also produced the sound with an understated elegance that defined the group's style. The album was a mix of mellow ballads, introspective mid-tempos, and smooth, groovy beats. Each song felt like an intimate conversation, where listeners could connect deeply with the group’s journey, vulnerabilities, and experiences.

Songs like "Daydreams", "Quiet Storm", and "Wanderlust" followed, each contributing to the cohesive, yet diverse, nature of the album.

"Daydreams" captured a sense of youthful wonder and longing,

while "Quiet Storm" was a deeper, more reflective ballad about inner strength and the quiet battles people face.

"Wanderlust" was a smooth, breezy track with a laid-back vibe, encapsulating their desire for freedom and exploration.

"Elysian Days" set the stage for Elysium’s journey, marking them as an artistically bold and boundary-pushing group in the K-pop scene. They had a sound that was distinctly their own, and with YN's vision and leadership, Elysium was poised to redefine what it meant to be an idol group in the modern music landscape.

The 2020 MJK Awards buzzed with energy as the biggest names in the industry filled the grand venue. ATEEZ sat at their assigned table near the front, their growing fame landing them prime seating. Yunho, ever the curious observer, scanned the room, taking in the glamorous chaos around him. His eyes flickered toward a group seated a little further back, where five girls sat quietly, looking slightly out of place amidst the glittering stars. They carried themselves with an understated confidence that intrigued him.

It was Elysium’s first award show, and though they were new to the scene, their name had already started making waves. Yunho had heard whispers about them—their unique concept, their music written entirely by one of the members, and their captivating simplicity. But it wasn’t until they took the stage for their performance that Yunho truly understood the hype.

Their performance was brief—award show rookie slots were always short—but it was enough to command the room’s attention. The stage lights dimmed, and a haunting melody began to play, accompanied by YN’s deep, rich voice that sent a ripple through the audience. The blend of their vocals, fluid choreography, and the raw authenticity they exuded was magnetic.

Yunho found himself leaning forward in his seat, captivated by the girl with the emotionless expression and commanding voice. There was something about her—how effortlessly she moved, how her voice seemed to echo with a depth beyond her years. She didn’t try to steal the spotlight, but it seemed to find her anyway.

When Elysium was announced as the Rookie of the Year, the girls stood in shock before making their way to the stage. YN stood at the back as Yeji, the leader, delivered a heartfelt thank-you speech. Yunho noticed YN bowing slightly to the crowd, her face still unreadable but her eyes glinting with a quiet pride. She looked at her fellow members with a subtle smile, the kind you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention.

As Yeji wrapped up her heartfelt speech, thanking their fans, company, and team, she suddenly turned toward YN with a teasing smile. “Our producer should say something too, right?” she said, nudging her lightly.

The other members chimed in, giggling and encouraging her. “Come on, YN unnie!” Wonyoung whispered, while Haneul gave her a playful push forward. YN hesitated, glancing at the mic with a faint frown, clearly preferring to stay in the background.

But with the crowd now cheering lightly for her, she sighed and stepped closer to the microphone. The room quieted in anticipation.

“Thank you,” YN began, her voice low and deep, resonating across the venue like a bass note. It was so unexpected—such a rich, commanding tone coming from someone with such a small, unassuming frame—that it stunned everyone into silence.

She continued calmly, “I just want to thank our members for trusting my music and making it come to life. And to Stellar, for believing in us and helping us get here. We’ll work harder to show you more of what we can do.” Her delivery was concise, professional, and almost emotionless, but the sheer contrast of her voice and presence left the room mesmerized.

Gasps and murmurs rippled through the audience. Yunho, sitting at the ATEEZ table, felt his eyes widen as he exchanged a look of surprise with Wooyoung. Even some of the seasoned idols were caught off guard, their expressions ranging from awe to disbelief.

By the time Elysium returned to their seats, the buzz around YN had already started. Clips of her speech began circulating online before the event had even ended. Fans titled the videos "Idols Reacting to YN’s Voice", showing the surprised expressions of seniors in the audience, and "Rookie Idol Shocks Everyone with Her Deep Voice."

Within hours, hashtags like #YNsVoice and #ElysiumRookieOfTheYear trended worldwide. Some fans joked, “How is her voice deeper than most rappers?” while others were in awe of how effortlessly she spoke, carrying such a commanding presence without trying.

YN, meanwhile, remained oblivious to the storm she’d caused online, quietly congratulating her members and reminding them to stay focused on their next goals. Little did she know, her unique voice and unintentional charisma had left a lasting impression on everyone who heard it—including a certain tall, wide-eyed boy named Yunho.

Elysium’s viral moment following their award show performance had propelled them into the spotlight, and their schedules quickly became packed. One of their most exciting activities was participating in TikTok dance challenges with other idols, a promotional move that fans loved. For their latest collaboration, they were paired with none other than ATEEZ.

YN, as always, stood quietly to the side. She was assigned to lead the challenge, given her knack for precision and her ability to pick up choreography quickly. When the staff revealed the pairings, Yunho’s heart sank.

“Okay, for this one, we’ll have Jongho, Seonghwa, and YN,” the director announced, clapping his hands.

Jongho, standing beside Yunho, grinned and clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this!” he said enthusiastically.

Seonghwa nodded, his elegance evident even as he stretched, preparing for the shoot.

Meanwhile, Yunho stood frozen, his expression falling into something close to disbelief. Of all the people who could’ve been chosen, why not him? He watched as YN walked over to Jongho and Seonghwa with her usual quiet confidence, her deep voice breaking the silence as she asked, “What’s the move for the transition?”

Yunho’s stomach churned as Jongho started laughing and explaining the steps to her, the two of them already getting along. Seonghwa added a few tips, and she nodded, her focus entirely on the choreography.

The shoot began, and the trio nailed the challenge effortlessly. YN’s fluid movements and sharp execution stood out, earning her subtle admiration from Seonghwa and Jongho. The staff clapped as they wrapped up, and YN offered a brief but polite bow before stepping back to join her group.

It was a quiet evening when YN decided to go live on Elysium’s official account. Sitting comfortably in a simple hoodie with her hair tied back, she greeted her fans with her signature calm demeanor.

“Hi, everyone,” she said in her low, steady voice. “I’ve been seeing your requests for a live, so here I am. Let’s talk.”

The comments flooded in instantly, with fans typing questions faster than she could read them. YN scrolled through with a small smirk, answering a few at random.

Fan: What’s your favorite food these days?

YN: “Ah, lately, I’ve been eating way too much tteokbokki. Spicy food keeps me awake when I’m working late.”

Fan: Who’s the funniest member in Elysium?

YN: (without hesitation) “Wonyoung. She doesn’t even try, but the things she says are hilarious. And Haneul is secretly funny too—she just doesn’t realize it. Hanni is just a yapper.”

Fan: Do you have any hobbies?

YN: “Producing takes up most of my time, but I’ve been getting into reading mystery novels lately. It helps me unwind.”

Fan: What’s your favorite song you’ve written so far?

YN: “That’s like choosing a favorite child,” she said with a faint smirk. “But if I had to pick… maybe ‘Wanderlust.’ It’s a personal one, so it means a lot to me.”

Fan: What do you do when you’re not working?

YN: “I sleep,” she said bluntly, earning a flood of laughing emojis in the chat. “But if I’m not sleeping, I’m probably reading or eating.”

The questions kept rolling in, and YN answered them with her usual calm wit, making fans laugh with her unintentional humor. Then, as if it were an afterthought, she brought up something no one had asked.

As the questions continued, a fan comment caught her attention:

Fan: Who are your favorite groups?

YN tilted her head thoughtfully. “Hmm, favorite groups? That’s hard,” she said, looking genuinely torn. “I really admire Seventeen. Their stage presence, their music, and the way they work together as a team are incredible. My bias is S.Coups. He’s an amazing leader.”

“And... I also really like ATEEZ.” Her voice dropped just slightly, her expression remaining composed, but the slight tilt of her head hinted at something unspoken.

The chat went wild.

Fan: ATEEZ?! OMG, finally someone appreciates them like we do!

Fan: What’s your favorite ATEEZ song?!

Fan: She said it so casually, but we know it’s not casual!!!

YN read through the comments, her lips twitching into the faintest smile. “ATEEZ has an amazing stage presence,” she said, carefully picking her words. “They’re one of those groups that really pour everything into their performances. It’s inspiring.”

Then, as if testing the waters, someone in the chat asked the inevitable:

Fan: Do you have a bias in ATEEZ?

YN’s calm demeanor wavered for the briefest moment. She paused, as though considering her answer, and then let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, I don’t really have one. I’m just... a fan of all of them.”

Her mention of ATEEZ and that small, telling hesitation didn’t go unnoticed. The chat exploded.

Fan: She’s lying, she totally has a bias!

Fan: YN, we can tell! Just say it’s Yunho, we won’t tell!

Fan: Why does this feel like a confession?!

YN shook her head, her usual emotionless expression tinged with faint amusement. “You guys are so quick to jump to conclusions,” she said, her deep voice betraying nothing. “But really, all of ATEEZ is talented. That’s all I’ll say.”

As the live progressed, YN’s usual calm, no-nonsense demeanor took a sharper edge when she noticed the comments spiraling. Fans were already speculating and joking about her mentioning ATEEZ, and while some of it was lighthearted, she knew how quickly things could escalate.

She leaned closer to the camera, her deep voice cutting through the excited chatter in the chat. “Alright,” she said, her tone firm, “before anyone gets carried away, let me be clear. I don’t want to see any unnecessary rumors or assumptions about what I said.”

The chat paused for a moment as fans processed her sudden shift.

“I admire Seventeen and ATEEZ, just like I admire a lot of other groups,” she continued, her gaze steady. “They work hard, and they’re talented. That’s it. Please don’t create unnecessary drama out of this. Focus on supporting the artists you love instead of making things weird.”

Her straightforward approach silenced most of the speculation, with fans quickly apologizing or reassuring her in the chat. Still, clips of her stern warning made their way online, and while many praised her for setting boundaries, others couldn’t help but laugh at how serious she became.

A few days later, the members of ATEEZ were scattered around their dorm, enjoying a rare break. Yunho was scrolling through his phone, absentmindedly liking posts when Wooyoung suddenly gasped from the other side of the room.

“Guys!” Wooyoung yelled, nearly tripping over himself as he ran to the living room, phone in hand. “You have to see this!”

“What now?” San groaned, but he leaned in as Wooyoung shoved his phone in their faces.

On the screen was a trending hashtag: #YNWarnsFans, alongside clips of her live where she mentioned ATEEZ and later shut down the rumors.

“Wait,” Jongho said, narrowing his eyes. “She mentioned us? During her live?”

“She didn’t just mention us,” Wooyoung said, his grin widening. “She told her fans not to start rumors because she respects us so much.”

Yunho froze in his seat, suddenly hyperaware of his teammates' reactions. “Why are we even trending? She probably mentioned other groups too,” he said, attempting to downplay it.

“Oh, she did,” Seonghwa replied, calmly sipping his tea. “But the way she said our name was... interesting.”

“What do you mean interesting?” Yunho asked, his voice rising slightly.

“You know, it had weight,” Wooyoung said, mimicking YN’s deep voice dramatically. “‘I also really like ATEEZ.’”

San burst out laughing. “I think she scared her fans into behaving! Look at this.” He pulled up another clip from the live where YN firmly told her fans to focus on supporting artists instead of causing drama.

“She’s strict,” Jongho said with a chuckle. “I respect that.”

“But why do her fans think there’s more to it?” Mingi asked, looking genuinely confused as he scrolled through posts.

Wooyoung leaned closer to Yunho, smirking. “Because, dear Yunho, they picked up on something. Maybe we should too.”

Yunho shoved Wooyoung away, his face heating up. “You’re all reading too much into this,” he muttered, though his heart was racing.

But even as the teasing continued, the thought of YN deliberately mentioning ATEEZ—and how she handled the situation so seriously—lingered in Yunho’s mind longer than he wanted to admit.

A few years after their debut, Elysium had solidified themselves as one of the most unique and beloved groups in the industry. Their artistry and authenticity had earned them a loyal fanbase, and their ability to stay grounded despite their success only made fans adore them more. So, when YN was invited to participate in a new, groundbreaking show where idols opened up about their lives and struggles, fans were both thrilled and nervous.

The concept of the show was simple: one idol, one camera, and complete vulnerability. It wasn’t scripted or rehearsed, just an intimate conversation that allowed idols to connect with their fans on a deeper level. YN, known for her reserved and straightforward nature, was an interesting choice, and many fans wondered if she would even share much.

The studio was dimly lit, the focus entirely on YN as she sat in a simple chair, dressed casually in a white sweater and jeans. The setup was minimal—just her, the camera, and a producer sitting off-screen to guide the conversation.

After a brief introduction, the producer asked the first question. “Let’s start with something simple. How would you describe your journey as an idol so far?”

YN leaned back slightly, her deep voice calm but reflective. “It’s been... fulfilling, but not easy,” she admitted. “I think people assume that just because we’re successful now, everything was smooth sailing. But that’s far from the truth.”

The producer nodded, encouraging her to continue. “What were some of the challenges you faced?”

YN took a moment to gather her thoughts. “When Elysium debuted, we weren’t like other groups. Our concept was different, our music wasn’t the mainstream sound, and we didn’t fit into the mold of what people expected. At first, it felt like we were always trying to prove ourselves. I remember the pressure was so intense that I barely slept those first few months because I was constantly writing and producing, trying to make sure we stood out.”

She paused, her expression softening slightly. “But the hardest part wasn’t the work—it was the doubt. There were moments when I wondered if I was good enough to be the producer and lyricist for a group like ours. I knew my members trusted me, but I didn’t always trust myself.”

The producer gently asked, “What kept you going during those times?”

“My members,” YN replied immediately, a rare, small smile gracing her lips. “Yeji, Wonyoung, Hanni, and Haneul—they never doubted me, even when I doubted myself. They’d stay with me during late-night studio sessions, bring me snacks, or just sit quietly while I worked. It sounds small, but it reminded me that I wasn’t alone.”

The conversation then shifted to her personal life. “Fans have always admired your confidence and maturity. Have you always been like this?”

YN let out a low chuckle, shaking her head. “Not at all. Growing up, I was pretty shy and quiet. My voice was always deeper than the other kids’, and I got teased for it. It made me insecure for a long time, but eventually, I learned to own it. Now, I think my voice is one of my strengths.”

The producer hesitated before asking the next question. “What’s something most people don’t know about you?”

YN’s expression grew serious, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. “I think people assume that because I’m strict with fans and straightforward in interviews, I’m... cold or distant. But the truth is, I care deeply about the people around me. I just don’t always know how to show it. It’s something I’m working on.”

The producer wrapped up the session by asking, “What would you say to your fans who are watching this?”

YN looked directly into the camera, her deep voice steady but warm. “Thank you. For believing in us, for giving us the chance to grow, and for supporting us even when things weren’t perfect. I know I can be tough sometimes, but it’s because I respect you all and want to protect what we’ve built together. So... thank you.”

The producer leaned forward slightly, their voice gentle but curious. “What are your fears, YN?”

YN’s calm demeanor faltered just a bit as she shifted in her seat, her fingers lightly brushing against the edge of her sweater. For a moment, she seemed hesitant, but then she answered, her deep voice steady and straightforward.

“Deep water. The ocean. I hate them,” she said bluntly.

The producer looked surprised. “Really? That’s interesting. Why is that?”

YN exhaled softly, her expression unreadable. “There’s something about it... the unknown. It’s so vast, so unpredictable. You don’t know what’s underneath, and that terrifies me. It feels... suffocating.”

She paused, her gaze lowering slightly as she continued. “I think it’s the idea of being completely out of control. You can’t see, you can’t touch the bottom—it’s just endless. It’s not something I’ve ever been able to get over.”

The producer nodded, sensing the depth of her fear. “Have you ever had to face it?”

YN shook her head firmly. “No, and I don’t plan to. I’ll admire the ocean from a safe distance, thank you very much. But you won’t catch me on a boat or anywhere near deep water. That’s non-negotiable.”

The producer hesitated before asking the next question, clearly aware of its weight. “Can you tell us about your family?”

YN’s usually calm expression shifted slightly, her deep voice quiet as she began, “My family…” She trailed off, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. For a moment, it seemed like she wouldn’t answer, but then she exhaled deeply and decided to speak.

“When I was 11, everything changed,” she started, her voice steady but void of emotion. “My dad lost his job. At first, we thought it was temporary, that things would get better. But they didn’t.”

She paused, her eyes glancing briefly off-camera. “He started drinking. A lot. And gambling. He couldn’t handle the stress, I guess. It became this... downward spiral. Debt piled up, and suddenly, money lenders were showing up at our house, banging on the door.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line before she continued, her voice a fraction quieter. “There were times I had to hide. My mom would pull me into a room and tell me to stay quiet while she dealt with them. She tried to protect me, but I could hear everything—the shouting, the threats.”

The producer stayed silent, letting her speak at her own pace.

“My mom... she’s the strongest person I know,” YN said, her tone softening slightly. “She held everything together when it felt like the world was falling apart. But I’d see her break, late at night, when she thought I was asleep. She’d cry, or just sit there, staring at nothing. It was like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders.”

Her gaze darkened as she continued. “And my dad… he’d talk about ending it all. Killing himself. He’d say it like it was a casual thing, and I didn’t know how to react. I was just a kid, and I felt so helpless. There were days I hated him for what he was putting us through, but at the same time, I was terrified of losing him.”

The producer’s voice was gentle when they asked, “Did you have anyone else to lean on during that time?”

YN shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “No. I’m an only child, and my cousins—they weren’t exactly kind. My parents borrowed money from everyone in the family, and that became the reason I was bullied by my cousins. They’d call me names, make fun of how my family couldn’t afford things. It got to the point where I dreaded family gatherings because I knew I’d be humiliated.”

She paused, her voice tightening slightly. “My studies fell apart. I used to be a good student, but I couldn’t focus. Everything felt meaningless when your home life is a disaster. And I didn’t have best friends or anyone to turn to. I was alone. Completely alone.”

The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.

“But,” YN said, her voice regaining some strength, “I think that’s what made me who I am today. I had to grow up fast. I learned how to survive, how to be self-sufficient. And when I finally got the chance to chase my dreams, I put everything into it because I knew what it was like to have nothing.”

The producer nodded, visibly moved. “You’ve come so far, YN. Thank you for sharing something so personal.”

The episode aired a week later, and fans were stunned. Many had known bits and pieces of her story, but hearing her lay it all out like this was heartbreaking. Social media exploded with messages of support, with hashtags like #YNStrong and #ProudOfYN trending for days.

Yunho couldn’t stop thinking about YN’s story. He’d always been a fan of her work, admiring her talents as a producer, lyricist, and performer. But after hearing about her past, his admiration transformed into deep respect. She wasn’t just an artist he looked up to; she was someone who had overcome unimaginable challenges to stand where she was now.

“She’s incredible,” Yunho murmured one evening while scrolling through clips of YN’s interview on his phone.

“What’s that?” Hongjoong asked from across the room, looking up from his laptop.

“YN,” Yunho said, setting his phone down. “You watched her interview, right? She’s... amazing. I mean, her talent was already obvious, but after hearing her story, I respect her so much more. She’s been through so much and still came out stronger.”

Hongjoong nodded, leaning back in his chair. “She’s definitely one of the most genuine idols out there. Her story hit hard, and the way she handles herself? It’s admirable.”

Yunho hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Hyung, you’re good at networking and... you know, initiating things. Don’t you think it’d be great if we worked with her? Like, a Collab? She’s a producer, you’re a producer—it just makes sense.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Is this about work, or is this about you being a fanboy?”

Yunho flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s about work,” he insisted, though the slight stammer in his voice gave him away. “Seriously, though. A Collab with her would be amazing. She has such a unique sound, and I think we could create something incredible together.”

Hongjoong chuckled, but there was a thoughtful look in his eyes. “You’re not wrong. Elysium’s sound is distinct, and her skills as a producer are no joke. It’d be interesting to see how our styles would blend.”

“So, will you reach out?” Yunho asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Sure,” Hongjoong said with a shrug. “I’ll bring it up with the company first, then see if Elysium’s side is interested. But don’t get your hopes up too fast. These things take time.”

Yunho nodded eagerly, already imagining what a collaboration with YN could look like. It wasn’t just about the music—though he truly believed they could create something amazing together. It was also a chance to work with someone he admired deeply, someone who inspired him not just as an artist but as a person.

A few days later, Hongjoong brought it up during a company meeting, pitching the idea with his usual confidence. The team seemed intrigued, and word was sent to Elysium’s management.

Unbeknownst to Yunho, YN herself was surprised when her company informed her of the request. A collaboration with ATEEZ? Specifically involving Hongjoong? She respected ATEEZ as artists, and the idea piqued her interest.

But for YN, who always approached her work with precision and seriousness, this wasn’t just about making a hit song. It was about finding the right synergy, the perfect balance between two distinct artistic visions.

As the initial talks began between the two companies, Yunho could barely contain his excitement. This was the beginning of something big—he could feel it. Whether or not YN would ever know how much her story and strength inspired him, Yunho was determined to give this project everything he had.

After the collaboration, Yunho finally decided it was time to approach YN. He couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward her anymore. Her story, her strength, her talent—they had all left a deep impression on him. But more than that, he wanted to know the person behind the stoic demeanor, the person who had fought through so much to stand where she was.

He asked Hongjoong for advice. “What do I even say? I don’t want to freak her out or make it awkward.”

“Just be honest,” Hongjoong said simply. “She doesn’t seem like the type who likes sugarcoating. Just tell her how you feel.”

So, a few days later, Yunho worked up the courage. They crossed paths backstage at a music event, and he casually approached her during a quiet moment.

“Hey, YN,” he said, his usual bright smile lighting up his face. “Do you have a minute?”

YN turned to him, her expression unreadable but polite. “Sure, what’s up?”

Yunho hesitated for a split second but pushed forward. “I wanted to say... I really admire you. Not just for your talent, but for how strong you are. I know you’ve been through a lot, and... I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s okay.”

YN blinked, clearly caught off guard. She wasn’t used to people approaching her so directly. After a brief silence, she let out a small sigh. “Sunbaenim, I... I appreciate that, but I’m not in the best place right now. Mentally, emotionally—I’m just... not okay. I’m so busy, and I have a lot on my plate already. I don’t think I can handle a relationship, or even—”

“I’m not asking you to handle anything,” Yunho interrupted softly. His usual playful demeanor was replaced with something serious and genuine. “I’m not here to add to your burdens. I just want to be there for you. To take care of you, in any way I can.”

YN looked at him, her guard slipping slightly as she searched his face. “You say that now, but... I’m not easy to deal with. I have days where I can barely hold myself together. I don’t want to drag anyone down with me.”

Yunho smiled, his voice steady. “I’m not scared of that. Everyone has their struggles, and you’ve been carrying so much on your own for so long. Let someone be there for you for once. I don’t need anything from you—I just want to help lighten the load, even if it’s just a little.”

YN’s lips pressed into a thin line as she considered his words. Part of her wanted to push him away, to stick to the walls she had built around herself. But another part of her—the part that had spent so many years feeling alone—was tempted to let someone in, even just a little.

“...You’re persistent, aren’t you?” she finally said, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Yunho grinned, his warmth returning. “You have no idea.”

YN shook her head, but there was a softness in her eyes now. “Alright, Sunbaenim. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I can handle it,” he said confidently. “You’ll see.”

It was a small step, but for Yunho, it was a start. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to show YN that she didn’t have to face everything alone anymore.

Yunho didn’t back down after that conversation. If anything, it seemed to fuel his determination to show YN that he was serious about what he’d said. He didn’t push her boundaries or overwhelm her—instead, he made his presence known in small, thoughtful ways.

It started with endless messages. Texts that weren’t demanding but comforting.

“Hope today’s schedule isn’t too hectic. Don’t forget to eat something good!”

“Just heard a song that reminded me of you. Maybe we can listen together someday?”

“Don’t overwork yourself. You’re doing great.”

YN would read his texts late at night, her lips twitching into an involuntary smile. Sometimes she replied with a quick “Thanks” or a simple thumbs-up, but Yunho never seemed discouraged. He’d keep sending messages, as though he didn’t expect anything in return, just wanting her to know he was thinking of her.

On social media, Yunho started dropping subtle hints. Nothing too obvious, but enough to make fans and even his members suspicious. He’d mention how much he admired producers who put their heart into their work or casually praise Elysium in interviews.

In one live, a fan asked him what song he was listening to lately, and he grinned. “Oh, there’s this really cool track by a certain producer I admire. It’s on repeat, but I won’t say who. Let’s just say they’re super talented.”

ATEEZ fans picked up on it quickly, speculating wildly about who he was talking about. Meanwhile, YN watched the chaos unfold on Twitter, shaking her head at the ridiculousness of it all. She knew exactly who Yunho was referring to, and though she tried to act unaffected, she couldn’t help the warmth that crept into her chest.

Even his fellow members started teasing him.

“Yunho, are you trying to be sneaky with those hints?” Wooyoung asked during one live, grinning mischievously.

“Hints? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yunho replied, his tone light but his smile betraying him.

“You’re so obvious,” Seonghwa added with a knowing smirk.

But Yunho didn’t care. He wasn’t trying to hide how he felt—he just wanted to take his time and let YN see that he wasn’t going anywhere.

The fans weren’t the only ones who noticed, though. YN’s members caught on too.

“Yunho’s really persistent, huh?” Yeji teased one day as they scrolled through comments under one of his interviews.

“I think it’s cute,” Wonyoung chimed in, grinning.

“More like annoying,” YN muttered, though the faint blush on her cheeks said otherwise.

Haneul smirked, nudging her. “You like the attention. Admit it.”

“I don’t,” YN said quickly, but her voice lacked conviction.

Despite her protests, YN couldn’t deny that Yunho’s endless effort was starting to chip away at the walls she’d built. His sincerity, his warmth, and his determination to make her feel cared for—it was something she hadn’t experienced before.

She wasn’t ready to fully let him in yet, but she found herself replying to his messages more often, even if it was just to tell him about her day or share a funny meme. And every time, Yunho’s responses were full of enthusiasm, as though he cherished every word she sent him.

Slowly but surely, Yunho was proving to her that he meant what he said—that he would take care of her, no matter what. And while YN was still hesitant, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to keep pushing him away.

One evening, Yunho went live, sitting comfortably in a hoodie, his radiant smile lighting up the screen. The live started like any other—him chatting with ATINY, answering questions, joking around, and sharing a bit about his day. But as the live went on, his tone shifted slightly, becoming more reflective.

“ATINY,” he began, leaning closer to the camera, his expression sincere. “You’ve been with me through so much—my ups, my downs, and everything in between. I’ve always felt your love and support, and it’s what keeps me going every day.”

The chat flooded with hearts and messages of encouragement.

He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck as if gathering his thoughts. “But there’s something I’ve been thinking about lately. I’m getting older, and I know that as idols, there’s this expectation... to focus only on our careers. To be... untouchable, in a way.”

The chat slowed down as fans sensed he was about to say something important.

“But I want to be honest with you,” Yunho continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “There may come a time when I fall in love with someone. I don’t know when, and I don’t know who, but when that happens, I hope you’ll love me no matter what. I’ve always wanted to give you my best, and I will continue to do that, but I also want to be true to myself.”

The chat exploded with messages of support.

“We’ll love you no matter what!”

“You deserve to be happy, Yunho!”

“ATINY will always stand by you!”

Yunho smiled softly, his eyes glistening slightly. “Thank you. That means more to me than I can say. I’ve been so lucky to have fans like you—people who understand that we’re human too, with dreams and emotions like anyone else.”

He hesitated for a moment, then added with a playful grin, “But don’t worry, ATINY. For now, I’m still all yours. Just... if the day ever comes, I hope you’ll support me the same way you always have.”

The live ended with Yunho thanking everyone and promising to work harder for ATINY.

Within minutes of the live ending, hashtags like #WeLoveYouYunho and #ATINYSupportsYunho trended worldwide on Twitter. Fans posted clips of his heartfelt speech, praising his honesty and maturity.

“Yunho deserves all the happiness in the world.”

“This is why we stan him—he’s so real and genuine.”

“No matter who he loves, ATINY will always be here!”

Even Yunho’s fellow members teased him afterward, showing him the trending hashtags. “Look at this,” Wooyoung said, laughing. “You’re literally trending everywhere.”

Yunho just smiled, feeling a sense of relief and gratitude. He didn’t know what the future held, but knowing ATINY had his back made him feel braver about whatever lay ahead—especially when it came to someone like YN.

A year after Yunho’s heartfelt live, the news that fans had been quietly speculating about finally broke. Dispatch, the notorious news outlet, published an exclusive article revealing that Yunho and YN were allegedly dating. The article included photos of the two of them together on several occasions, some taken during casual outings, others during events where they’d been seen talking closely, laughing, and even holding hands when they thought no one was looking.

The news spread like wildfire across social media, causing an immediate uproar. Fans were quick to react—some in shock, others in support, and a few, unfortunately, in anger. The inevitable backlash began to rise, fueled by certain fans who felt betrayed or disappointed that their favorite idols were in a relationship. They bombarded social media with their opinions, criticizing both Yunho and YN for being “unprofessional” or “disrespectful” to their fandoms. But what they hadn’t anticipated was the unwavering defense that came from both Yunho and YN’s fans.

ATINY, in particular, stood as a united front. The fanbase, known for their loyalty and dedication, came together like never before. Tweets flooded the timelines, filled with messages like:

“Yunho deserves love just like anyone else! #WeLoveYouYunho” “YN is amazing, and they make each other happy. Why can’t we just support them? #WeSupportYNandYunho” “Love isn’t a crime. Let them be happy. #ATINYSUPPORTSYNANDYUNHO”

The hashtag #YNandYunho began trending worldwide, and posts defending the couple filled every social platform. ATINY showed their devotion not only to Yunho but also to YN, who was just as much a target of the hate. Elysium’s fandom, although smaller, also rallied behind their idol, and soon, the combined power of both fanbases made the negative voices seem like a distant echo.

Even YN, who had always been known for her more private nature, made a statement on her social media:

“To all the people spreading hate, I just want to say that I’m happy. Yunho is someone I care about deeply, and we’re both doing our best to navigate this world as we see fit. I hope you can respect our privacy and our decisions. Thank you to everyone who has supported us with kindness. We see you, and we appreciate you.”

Yunho, too, shared his thoughts:

“Thank you to ATINY for always having my back. I know this might be a lot for some people to understand, but YN and I are happy, and we’re just two people who care about each other. We hope you can support us as we continue to work hard for you. Love is love.”

The company quickly addressed the situation as well, confirming the dating rumors. They emphasized that both Yunho and YN were adults who were fully aware of the impact of their relationship and the responsibility that came with their public lives. The statement also reassured fans that their careers and work ethics would remain unaffected, and they would continue to put their best foot forward in everything they did.

Despite the hate, the overwhelming support from fans made it clear that they were not alone. The strength of ATINY and Elysium’s support made Yunho and YN’s bond feel more solid than ever. And while the situation was far from perfect, it showed that love—true love—could thrive even in the world of K-pop, where idols are often seen as untouchable. Together, they navigated the challenges that came their way, knowing that the people who mattered most—each other and their loyal fans—had their backs no matter what.

YN, as always, found herself overthinking everything. The moment the rumors broke, she spiraled into a sea of doubts. The backlash wasn’t easy to ignore—she could see the comments, the subtle whispers, and the hate that was beginning to flood social media. Despite the overwhelming support, the negativity seemed to weigh heavily on her heart.

She constantly found herself checking her phone, replaying every moment, every interaction with Yunho, wondering if it was all worth it. Was she just dragging him into the chaos of her own life? Could she really handle being in the spotlight like this? Was it fair to Yunho?

Her mind raced as the pressure mounted. What if things didn’t work out? What if the hate only grew stronger? And what if it affected his career, his image, his future?

“YN?” Yunho’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. He’d noticed how distant she’d been recently.

She looked up at him, her eyes tired and full of uncertainty. “Yunho… I just… I don’t know how to handle all this. It feels too overwhelming. What if—”

Before she could finish, Yunho pulled her into his arms, his warmth surrounding her like a protective shield. “Hey, listen to me. You don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here. We’re in this together. And if anyone hurts you, I swear I’ll take care of it.”

YN shook her head, pulling back slightly. “I don’t want you to do anything drastic, Yunho. You can’t just fix everything with threats. We can’t handle it that way.”

He sighed, a little frustrated but understanding. “But if it were up to me, I’d sue anyone who dares to disrespect you. They’ll learn that no one gets to hurt the people I care about.”

YN laughed, despite herself, shaking her head. “Yunho, please. You can’t go around suing people because they say something rude. That’s not how it works.”

But Yunho wasn’t ready to back down. He reached for her hand, his gaze firm. “I’ll do a live. I’ll threaten them, make it clear that anyone who hurts you will face consequences. I’ll make them understand, YN.”

YN looked at him, her heart swelling at the sight of how much he cared for her. But as much as she appreciated his protective instinct, she knew it wasn’t the solution. “You don’t have to fight my battles for me,” she said softly, squeezing his hand. “I can’t let you do that. Please don’t. I don’t want anyone to think you’re only with me because you’re trying to fix things.”

He looked at her with unwavering determination, but she could see the understanding in his eyes. “I just want to protect you, YN. I care about you so much.”

“I know,” she whispered, her heart aching. “I care about you, too. But we have to be strong together. Not because of what they say, but because of how we feel.”

Yunho’s expression softened, his arms wrapping around her again. “I love you, YN. No matter what, I’ll love you. And I’ll stand by you through all of it—good or bad.”

YN closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his love and support. She knew the road ahead wouldn’t be easy. There would be days when the world seemed too harsh, when the hate would feel unbearable. But with Yunho by her side, she knew she wasn’t facing it alone. He was her strength, and she was his.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Thank you for loving me.”

“I’ll always love you,” Yunho said, his voice full of quiet confidence. “No matter what.”

And despite the uncertainty that still lingered, YN felt a flicker of peace. With Yunho, they could handle whatever came their way. Together.

The days that followed were still filled with challenges, but something about their bond made everything seem a little lighter. Yunho and YN grew closer, their moments together filled with laughter and quiet comfort. The hate that once surrounded them felt distant, as the love and support from their fans only seemed to grow stronger.

On the rare days when they had time off, they would meet up in small, cozy cafes or take walks in the park, just enjoying each other's company without the pressure of the world around them. Yunho would always find a way to make her smile, whether it was with his cheesy jokes or by simply holding her hand, offering her the kind of warmth that made her forget about everything else.

One evening, they sat together on a bench in a secluded park, the sunset painting the sky with soft pinks and oranges. Yunho rested his head on her shoulder, his hand gently intertwined with hers.

“You know,” he said softly, his voice filled with contentment, “I’m glad I didn’t back down when I first decided to love you. All of this… it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

YN smiled, her heart swelling with emotion. “I’m glad you didn’t either. You’ve made everything feel a little less overwhelming, Yunho.”

He looked up at her, his eyes full of affection. “And you’ve made me believe that love is worth fighting for. That it’s worth all the risks. I’ll always be here for you, YN. Always.”

YN leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Yunho.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered, his voice full of warmth and sincerity.

They stayed like that for a while, enjoying the peaceful silence, content in each other’s presence. No drama, no expectations—just the two of them, surrounded by the quiet beauty of the world and the unwavering certainty of their love. It was a love that had stood the test of everything that had been thrown their way. And, as they held each other close, they knew they were ready to face whatever came next—together, as they always had been.

And for once, everything felt right.

180 notes · View notes

froztii · 2 days ago

Text

PILLOW TALK— A. Morgan

summary -> partnered up with Arthur was the easy part, falling asleep, was not. Thankfully Arthur had some plan in mind

warnings -> language, violence, death, age gap, smut! p in v, pullout method, fingering, handjob, finger sucking, praise, pet names, mentions of anal, mdni.

Tomorrow, you and Arthur would be heading out—just the two of you. Dutch had given the orders, said he needed a pair of riders who could handle themselves, and for whatever reason, Arthur had chosen you. Not that you weren’t capable—you’d proven yourself enough times—but Arthur was particular about who he worked with. You weren’t sure if it was trust, or something else entirely.

You weren’t sure when things had started shifting between you, when the looks had started lingering, when the air had started crackling every time he stood too close. But it was there now, pressing in, thick as the summer heat.

You tapped the cigarette against your knee, then finally struck a match, bringing the tip to the flame. The first pull was slow, smoke curling past your lips, settling in your lungs before you exhaled through your nose. Arthur watched you, the firelight casting sharp shadows across his face, making his eyes look darker, more intense. "You ever get tired of this?" you asked, voice quieter now. "The runnin’, the killin’?"

Arthur considered you for a long moment, then reached for the bottle again. "Ain’t much time to get tired." He took a sip, let it sit on his tongue before swallowing. "You?"

You shrugged. "Ain’t never known anythin’ else."

He nodded like he understood, because maybe he did. You’d both been running for a long time, living on the edge of a knife, caught between lawmen and outlaws, between survival and something worse. There wasn’t any room for softness in a life like this—no room for dreaming of things you couldn’t have.

"You sure you trust me to watch your back out there?" You asked, flicking the ash from your cigarette.

Arthur’s gaze flicked up, sharp and unwavering. "Ain’t a question of trust." That wasn’t an answer. But it was all you were going to get.

A gust of wind swept through the camp, kicking up dust, making the flames dance wildly for a moment before settling. Arthur stretched his legs out in front of him, let out a slow breath, then reached into his satchel and pulled out his revolver.

He spun the cylinder idly, checking the rounds, his expression unreadable. "You ever been to Saint Denis?" He asked after a while. You shook your head. "Fancy place," he mused. "Too damn loud for my liking. Dutch, though—he thinks that’s where the future is."

His jaw tensed slightly, barely noticeable, but you caught it. "You don’t?"

Arthur huffed. "Ain’t never seen a future worth livin’ in." Something about the way he said it made your stomach twist. There was something heavy in his voice, something that made your chest ache in a way you weren’t used to. You didn’t like it. You’d seen Arthur angry, seen him ruthless, seen him crack a man’s skull without a second thought. But this? This quiet resignation? It didn’t sit right with you. "You ever think about leavin’?" you asked before you could stop yourself. "Just… ridin’ off, findin’ somethin’ better?"

Arthur glanced at you, then back down at his revolver. His fingers stilled against the metal, his thumb resting against the hammer. "Ain’t that simple."

"Maybe it is."

Arthur laughed, but it wasn’t amused. "You got somewhere in mind, sweetheart?"

The way he said it, voice lower now, like the word itself had weight, made your breath hitch slightly. "Anywhere’s better than dyin’ out here for nothin’," you said, barely above a whisper.

Arthur’s expression flickered—just for a second, just long enough for you to see something break through that careful mask he always wore. And then it was gone, buried beneath that same unreadable calm. "You best get some sleep," he murmured, pushing himself up. "We got a long ride ahead." He didn’t look at you as he turned, didn’t wait for you to respond. You watched him disappear into the dark, the glow of the fire catching against the worn leather of his holster before he was swallowed completely. You exhaled slowly, dragging one last pull from your cigarette before flicking it into the dirt.

The wind howled through the trees, and in the distance, thunder rumbled, low and threatening. The storm would be here soon. The morning was cold, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and rain on the horizon. The fire had burnt out sometime in the night, leaving behind nothing but grey ash and the faint scent of smoke. You stretched out your shoulders, rolling the stiffness from your muscles, your mind still hazy with sleep.

Arthur was already up, working on the horses, adjusting the saddles and making sure everything was in place. He barely looked at you as you pushed yourself to your feet, but you could feel the weight of his attention, even if it was only for a second. "You leavin’ without me, Morgan?" you muttered, voice still rough from sleep.

Arthur smirked, tightening the straps on his bags. "Figured I’d let you sleep in, seein’ as you ain’t much good to me half-dead."

You rolled your eyes, brushing the dirt off your pants. "Real considerate of you."

Arthur chuckled under his breath, but didn’t say anything else. He was like that—always had been. He could talk when he wanted to, could spin a lie or a story well enough, but most of the time, he let the quiet do the talking. You didn’t mind. You mounted your horse, shifting in the saddle as Arthur swung up onto his own. He adjusted his hat, his eyes scanning the sky. "Storm’s movin’ in quick. Best we get a move on." The road stretched ahead, long and empty, the kind of silence that made your nerves prickle.

You rode alongside Arthur, the two of you keeping a steady pace, the only sound the rhythm of hooves against dirt. The mission was simple enough—ride into Lemoyne, track down some bastard who’d crossed the gang, and make sure he didn’t walk away from it.

You’d done worse jobs before, but something about this one had your stomach in knots. Maybe it was the way Arthur had been last night, the way he’d asked if you ever thought about leaving, like the thought had been sitting in the back of his mind for longer than he cared to admit. Or maybe it was just that riding with him like this, alone, made you more aware of him than you wanted to be.

You didn’t like the way your pulse kicked up when he glanced at you, the way your fingers clenched just a little too tight around the reins. It wasn’t obvious—at least you hoped it wasn’t—but you could feel it, that stupid heat creeping up your neck, that second where you had to look away before he caught you staring. It was annoying. It was irritating.

And worst of all, you didn’t know what the hell to do about it. "You got a plan for this?" you asked, more to distract yourself than anything.

Arthur exhaled, shifting slightly in the saddle. "Yeah. Find the bastard. Put a bullet in ‘im."

You scoffed. "Real detailed."

Arthur smirked, but there was something sharp in his eyes when he looked at you. "You got a better one?"

You didn’t answer. Mostly because no, you didn’t, but also because you were too busy trying to pretend that the way he was looking at you wasn’t affecting you.

The town wasn’t far now, the road giving way to worn wooden buildings, the smell of smoke and mud hanging in the air. You could feel the shift in the atmosphere, the way the people moved, the way their eyes darted toward you and Arthur before quickly looking away.

This place had seen its fair share of violence. They knew better than to get in the way of it. Arthur pulled his horse to a stop near a small saloon, barely more than a shack with a sign hanging half off its hinges. "Reckon he’s in there.” He muttered, jerking his chin toward the door.

You adjusted your gun belt. "How you wanna do this?"

Arthur swung down from his horse, dusting off his jacket. "Quiet. If we can." His gaze flicked to yours, steady. "If not—."

"I know," you muttered, already moving to follow him. Inside, the saloon was dimly lit, the smell of stale beer and sweat thick in the air.

Arthur led the way, his movements easy but deliberate, the kind that made people pay attention even if they didn’t want to. You let him take the lead, keeping close, scanning the room. It didn’t take long to spot the man. He was sitting in the corner, half-turned away, a glass in his hand.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. "Mister.” He drawled, his voice calm, almost lazy.

The man stiffened. That was all the warning you got before everything went to hell. He went for his gun, but Arthur was faster. The crack of a shot split the air, and suddenly, the whole place was moving—men scrambling, chairs scraping against the floor, voices shouting over each other. You didn’t think, just reacted, drawing your revolver as Arthur fired again.

The man dropped, blood spreading across his shirt, his fingers twitching once before going still. Arthur was already moving. "Come on."

You didn’t need to be told twice. You covered him as he pushed through the door, gun still in hand, heart pounding. Outside, people were moving, stepping back, watching. A few men had their hands hovering near their holsters, but none of them seemed stupid enough to make a move. You swung up onto your horse, Arthur doing the same beside you.

"That went smooth.” You muttered, kicking your horse into motion.

Arthur snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, real smooth." The two of you rode hard out of town, the storm finally breaking, rain coming down in sheets, turning the road to mud. You could still feel the heat of the fight in your chest, the rush of it, the way the air had felt electric. And beneath it all, beneath the gun smoke and the storm, there was something else.

The way Arthur had looked at you. The way your stomach had flipped just a little too hard. The way this whole thing felt like it was building to something, something you weren’t sure you were ready for. And worst of all? You didn’t know if you wanted to stop it.

The rain hammered down, slicking your coat and dampening your hair as you and Arthur pushed through the mud, your horses sliding beneath you with each sharp turn. The storm had rolled in heavier than you’d expected, but you didn’t mind. It kept the town behind you at a distance, and for a moment, it felt like just the two of you—nothing else mattered.

Arthur’s gaze was fixed ahead, his jaw set as he steered his horse through the storm. You kept close, the wind whipping at your face, making it hard to focus. Still, something about the way he was so calm, so controlled, made you feel a little less unsettled. You shifted in your saddle, but your thoughts kept returning to that look—the one he’d given you in the saloon before the chaos had kicked off.

The way his eyes had lingered just a fraction longer than normal. You could feel that same tightness in your chest, that tension building up, and you hated how much it rattled you. "How far do you reckon we’re gonna make it before that storm gets worse?" You asked, trying to break the silence.

Arthur glanced over at you for a second, his expression unreadable. "Not far,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm. "We should find shelter soon."

"Great," you muttered, mostly to yourself, but the rain made it hard to tell if he heard you. You’d been out in worse weather before, but this felt different—more dangerous somehow, like the storm wasn’t just weather, it was a warning. The road ahead was barely visible through the sheets of rain, but Arthur kept pushing forward, steady as ever.

You followed close behind, your horse slipping slightly in the mud, but you managed to keep your balance. As you rode, the storm seemed to intensify, the wind picking up, making it nearly impossible to hear anything but the roar of the weather. You were beginning to wonder if you’d make it out of this mess in one piece when Arthur’s voice cut through the noise.

"Get ready," he said, his tone low, "we might have company."

Your heart skipped a beat as you instinctively reached for your gun. Your eyes scanned the road ahead, but all you could see were flashes of lightning and the thick fog of rain. "How many?" You asked, voice tight.

"Not sure yet," he muttered, "but keep your eyes open."

You didn’t need to be told twice. You were ready for whatever came next, but something gnawed at you, a feeling you couldn’t shake. The air around you had shifted, and now, you were on edge, expecting the worst. Then, through the rain, you saw them—figures moving along the side of the road, shadows in the mist, too close for comfort. You couldn’t make out their faces, but the way they moved told you everything you needed to know. They weren’t friends. Arthur didn’t hesitate. He spurred his horse forward, the sound of hooves against the soaked earth drowned out by the pounding rain.

You followed him, your heart racing as the distance between you and the figures closed rapidly. As you neared, you could hear the distinct sound of boots crunching against the wet ground, the rustle of leather. Arthur pulled his gun, his eyes never leaving the shadows ahead. "You ready for this?"

"Always.” You replied, your voice steady despite the rush of adrenaline pumping through your veins. The figures came into focus then, a small group of men, guns drawn, their faces hidden beneath wide-brimmed hats.

Without warning, one of them stepped forward, a grin on his face, though it was barely visible through the rain. "Looks like you two are lost.” He called out, his voice rough but loud enough to cut through the storm.

Arthur’s response was immediate—a shot fired into the air, a warning. "Get out of the way, unless you want trouble."

The man didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he took a step closer, his hand twitching towards his holster. "I think we’re past warnings, don’t you?"

You didn’t wait for Arthur’s signal. Your hand was already on your gun, drawing it smoothly, just as the first shot rang out. The fight was quick—too quick. The sound of gunfire, the crunch of boots on mud, the smell of gunpowder all mixed into one chaotic moment.

You and Arthur moved together, a seamless team, each shot calculated, precise. The men never stood a chance. In the end, all that remained was the sound of rain pelting the ground and the faint echoes of the struggle that had just unfolded.

Arthur holstered his gun, wiping the rain from his face, his eyes scanning the area as if expecting more. He didn’t speak, but there was something in the way his shoulders relaxed, something almost imperceptible, like he was finally allowing himself to breathe.

You exhaled, your own heart still racing, and turned your attention to the fallen men. "You alright?" Arthur asked, his voice quieter now, almost calm.

"Yeah," you said, though your hands were still shaking, just a little. "Just a bit too close for comfort."

Arthur nodded, but his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary, something unreadable in his expression. You couldn’t look at him. Not now, not when your head was still spinning from the chaos. "Let’s get out of here.” He said, his voice low, the sharp edge of command still present.

You didn’t argue, pushing your horse forward, following him as you both rode out of the danger zone, the storm still raging around you. But even as the rain poured down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm wasn’t the only thing you had to worry about.

You could feel it now, that unspoken thing between you and Arthur, the way his presence seemed to shift in your chest, like it had been there all along, waiting to crack wide open. And you didn’t know whether to run from it or let it consume you. The tension between you both had been building for days—weeks, even—and now, with everything that had happened, it was almost unbearable.

You tried to focus on the road ahead, but your mind kept drifting back to him, to the way his eyes flickered over to you, his hand steady on the reins, his posture rigid yet somehow relaxed in that familiar way. It made you feel uneasy in a way you didn’t want to acknowledge.

The campfire that had been burning bright hours earlier had now dwindled to a small, flickering flame, casting shadows across the tents. Arthur didn’t say much as you arrived, just a quick glance in your direction before he dismounted, tying his horse to the post with practiced ease. You followed suit, the dampness of the night air seeping through your clothes.

Arthur opened the flap of the tent, giving you a small nod before stepping inside. You hesitated for a moment, the thought of the close quarters making your chest tighten, but then you followed him in, the tent feeling smaller the second you crossed the threshold.

The rain outside continued to fall in a steady rhythm, but inside the tent, the sound was muffled, almost distant. The fire from outside barely flickered in, leaving the inside dim and quiet. You unbuckled your wet coat and set it down, feeling a shiver pass through you as you tried to warm up, your clothes still clinging to your skin.

Arthur was already sitting on his bedroll, his back to you as he untied his boots. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. You hadn’t been this close to him in a long time—alone, without the chaos of the mission, without the noise of the camp.

There was something different now, something you couldn’t explain, and it made the silence feel heavy. You sat down on your own bedroll, facing away from him, though you could still feel his presence behind you, like a constant shadow in the corner of your vision. You tried not to think too hard about the way his broad shoulders looked in the low light or the way his scent lingered in the air. His voice cut through the stillness.

"You good?" It wasn’t a question he often asked, not like this. His tone was steady, but there was something softer about it now, something that made you hesitate before you answered.

You forced yourself to turn and face him, meeting his gaze for a split second before looking away again, your fingers picking at the edges of your blanket. "Yeah," you said, the word coming out quieter than you meant. "Just tired."

He leant back slightly, his arms folding across his chest, watching you intently, as if waiting for something more. You shifted uncomfortably, the weight of his gaze settling in your chest. "You sure?" His voice was still low, but there was a note of concern in it that you weren’t used to.

You swallowed, unsure of how to respond. You hadn’t realised just how much the mission had affected you, or how much you were still carrying with you. It wasn’t just the danger, or the gunfire, or the constant feeling of being hunted—it was everything. The unspoken things, the things that had been building between you and Arthur for so long now, things you couldn’t ignore any longer. You nodded, though you weren’t sure if you believed your own words. "Yeah. I’m fine."

There was a long pause, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken words, heavy with that pull between you. You could feel your heart thudding in your chest, the way his presence made everything feel amplified, even the smallest movements. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run from it, or if you wanted to let it take you over.

Arthur shifted slightly, leaning forward, the space between you closing just a little more. His voice dropped lower. "You don’t look fine.” He said, his tone almost teasing but with an edge that was hard to ignore.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of your lips, even as your stomach twisted with nerves. "I’m not in the mood for your teasing right now, Arthur.” You said, your voice quieter than usual, but there was a firmness to it, a sharpness you didn’t often let slip.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and gravelly, but there was something in it that made your breath catch in your throat. You hadn’t realised how close he was now, how his presence had filled the space between you, how much you wanted to close that final gap, even though you weren’t sure why. "You never are.” He murmured, his tone softer now, but still carrying that same edge of familiarity.

There was no mistaking it now—the tension was there, thick between you. You could feel it in the way his eyes followed your every movement, the way his body seemed to lean just a little closer, his posture relaxed but still watchful. It was a game of balance, a dance neither of you had fully committed to, and the closer you got, the harder it was to stay steady.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the feeling of being too close, of being seen in a way that you weren’t ready for. "We should get some sleep," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, though the words felt far from convincing. Arthur didn’t say anything right away, his eyes searching yours for a moment longer, like he was trying to figure something out, something you weren’t sure you understood.

Finally, he nodded, but he didn’t move away. "Yeah," he said, his voice just above a murmur. "Guess we should." But even as he said the words, you could feel the pull between you both, the closeness that neither of you were willing to ignore, even as the night pressed in around you.

The rain fell harder outside, but in the quiet of the tent, with only the soft crackle of the fire and the sound of your breathing, the storm inside felt louder, more real. The night stretched on, the storm still raging outside, but it couldn’t drown out the tension inside the tent.

You couldn’t sleep.

Every time you closed your eyes, every time you tried to settle into the warmth of your bedroll, it felt like something was pressing in on you, making it impossible to rest. You fidgeted again, twisting onto your side, then your back, then your stomach, trying every possible position to find comfort, but it never came. You could hear Arthur’s steady breathing beside you, but the closer you were to him, the more you felt the weight of the silence between you. His presence was too overwhelming, too close.

You weren’t sure if it was his proximity or the way the air felt heavy with unspoken things, but you couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in your gut, like something was about to crack open.

You turned onto your side again, facing away from him this time, hoping that would ease the unease, but it didn’t. The more you moved, the more you felt like you were drawing attention to yourself, and it only made the tension worse. You could feel him now, like his eyes were boring into the back of your head, his presence so close that it was suffocating. You didn’t dare look at him, though, because if you did, you weren’t sure what you’d see.

Maybe it was the storm outside, or maybe it was the damn tension building between you, but you couldn’t stop moving. You had to do something to keep from losing your mind.

"You done yet?" Arthur’s voice cut through the silence, low and gruff, but you could hear the irritation creeping in now. You froze, your heart skipping a beat.

You hadn’t expected him to say anything, and the sharpness of his tone made your chest tighten. "Just… can’t sleep," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You heard him shift beside you, the sound of his bedroll rustling, and you knew he was watching you now.

"You’ve been moving like that for hours. You planning on keeping me up all night?" His voice was rough, but there was a hint of annoyance in it now, a sharp edge that made your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t help but feel a little defensive, even though you knew he was right. "Sorry." You muttered, though you didn’t know why. You weren’t sure if you were sorry for being so restless, or sorry that you couldn’t seem to get a grip on whatever was simmering between you two.

You felt him shift again, heard him let out a sigh. "You think that’s gonna help?" he asked, his tone now a little softer, but still firm. You didn’t respond. Instead, you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the glimpse of his silhouette in the dim light of the tent.

You could tell he was still awake, that he wasn’t planning on sleeping anytime soon either. The silence stretched between you two again, but this time it wasn’t as comfortable as before. It felt thick, charged with something that neither of you was willing to acknowledge. You swallowed, trying to push the feeling down, but it refused to stay buried. Your body felt like it was on edge, too aware of him, too aware of the way the space between you seemed to shrink with every passing second.

"Maybe you just need a little… distraction," Arthur said after a while, his voice low but deliberate, as if testing the waters. You frowned, not sure what he meant, but you didn’t have time to ask before he continued. "Something to tire you out," he added, his tone almost teasing now, a faint smirk in his voice.

You blinked, your stomach tightening at the suggestion. You hadn’t expected him to say that, not like that. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. You were suddenly aware of the distance between the two of you, how far you had been from each other just moments ago, and now how it felt like everything was getting just a little bit closer. "What… do you mean?" you managed to ask, your voice quieter than before, though you didn’t think it was out of curiosity. It sounded more like you were trying to hold onto control, trying not to let your thoughts wander into dangerous territory.

Arthur didn’t immediately answer, but you could hear him shift beside you, his movements slow and deliberate. You could feel his eyes on you now, though you didn’t dare meet his gaze. "I mean," he started, his voice rougher now, like he was taking his time with each word, "If you can’t sleep, maybe you need something to wear yourself out."

You weren’t sure what he meant by that, but you could feel the weight of his words settle between you two, making the air feel thicker, heavier. Your heart raced a little faster, and you couldn’t help but feel a small flutter of something you couldn’t quite place. You turned away from him, your chest tight, not sure whether to call him out for his words or to let them hang there, unspoken. He leant back against his bedroll then, letting out a long breath, as if he was satisfied with his suggestion.

"I don’t mind giving you a hand," he added, his voice low, barely audible. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, your pulse quickening, but you didn’t know how to respond to that.

It wasn’t an offer, not really, but the way he said it made you feel like the air had shifted even further, like you were teetering on the edge of something you couldn’t fully understand.

You swallowed, your body feeling restless in a new way now. You knew he wasn’t being serious, not in the way you thought, but the tension that had been building up between you two made everything feel heavier, more intense.

You frowned, not sure where he was going with it. "What do you mean?" You asked, confusion making your voice sharper. You could feel him shift beside you, the sound of his bedroll moving.

He was closer now, the tension between you two thick enough to make the air feel heavy. "I mean," he began, his voice low, "You’re wound up tighter than a spring. Maybe you need somethin’ to tire you out." The suggestion hit you like a brick, and for a moment, you couldn’t process it. You turned your head then, eyes wide, but you couldn’t read the look on his face.

It wasn’t playful, but it wasn’t serious either—it was something else, something between a tease and a challenge.

Your body felt like it was buzzing with energy, but it wasn’t the kind of energy you could work off easily. It was something deeper, something that ran straight through you when he was this close. "Arthur…" Uou breathed, your voice barely a whisper. You wanted to say something—anything—to break the tension, but the words didn’t come.

The space between you two felt impossibly small now, like you could reach out and touch him without even trying. "What’s the matter?" He asked, his voice low and patient, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent to it. "Can’t handle it?" The question stung, but you couldn’t deny that it struck a chord deep inside you.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you didn’t know what to say. You could feel the pressure building in your chest, like something was about to burst, but you didn’t know whether to fight it or give in to it.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you felt the pull between you two, like gravity. He wasn’t moving away, wasn’t backing off, and it was making everything inside you feel ten times worse. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you were too lost in it to speak.

"You gon’ let me?" Arthur said, the words slow and deliberate, like he was testing you, waiting for your reaction. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face him because you were afraid of what you might see.

The tension in the air was suffocating now, the silence hanging like a thread about to snap.

Arthur leant in slightly, his proximity enough to make your heart skip a beat. "C'mon," he murmured, his voice soft, almost a challenge. "You know you want this."

The words hit you like a jolt, and for a moment, your brain short-circuited, struggling to form a coherent thought. The space between you two felt like it was disappearing, the way his eyes softened, and how he seemed to wait for your move. You could hear your own breath now, loud in your ears, the storm outside pounding against the canvas of the tent, but all you could focus on was the way Arthur was looking at you.

"You think I don’t want this?" You finally muttered, your voice barely a whisper. But he heard it.

His smile was slow, a little crooked, and his eyes darkened with something more intense now. He didn't reply, instead, he reached out, a hand coming to rest on your jaw, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a gentle motion. It sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn't pull away.

"You sure about that?" Arthur’s voice was barely a murmur now, his face inches from yours. The tension between you two, thick and undeniable, was suffocating. He waited, giving you a moment, and that was when it happened.

You didn't lean away, you didn't hesitate.

You closed the space between you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was slow and tentative at first, like neither of you were sure what would come next. His hand slid from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing gently as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. You let yourself go, just for a moment, lost in the heat of it, the pressure of his lips against yours, the taste of him.

"Easy, girl." He growled against your lips, his prickly beard scratching at your chin. The rasp of his voice sent a shiver through you, the roughness of it matching the way his hands had tightened just slightly where they rested against you. His thumb traced slow circles against the back of your neck, his touch firm but careful, like he was still testing, still giving you room to pull away. But you didn’t.

You leant into him, your breath shaky, your heart hammering so hard you were sure he could feel it.

Arthur kissed you again, slower this time, but deeper, more certain. His lips pressed against yours with a heat that had been simmering for far too long, a fire barely held at bay.

You could taste the whiskey on him, the faint remnants of tobacco, but underneath it was something distinctly him, something you had caught whiffs of before but never like this, never this close.

His hand slid from your neck down to your waist, fingers pressing into your hip as he pulled you closer. The bedroll beneath you rustled as you shifted, your hands coming up to his shoulders instinctively, gripping onto the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. "You always this restless?" Arthur muttered against your lips, his tone half amused, half strained. His breath was warm against your skin, sending a spark straight through your chest.

"Only when you're around.” You murmured back, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

Arthur let out a rough chuckle, his grip on you tightening for just a second. "That so?" His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your jaw, the scrape of his beard making your skin prickle in the best way.

He took his time, tracing the line of your jaw, his breath hot against your skin as he worked his way down, slow and deliberate. His free hand ran down your side, the warmth of his palm seeping through the fabric of your shirt, the weight of it making your stomach twist in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

You tilted your head without thinking, giving him more room, and he took it. His lips brushed against the pulse point on your neck, and you swore you felt him smirk when your breath hitched. "Ain't nothin' to be nervous about, darlin'," he murmured, voice thick, teasing. "Unless you want there to be."

You knew exactly what he meant, the words hanging between you like a dare, but you weren’t about to back down. You shifted against him slightly, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you breathed, "And if I do?"

Arthur paused, just for a second, just long enough to let you feel the weight of what you had said. His fingers flexed against your waist, his body tensing slightly, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were darker now, unreadable. "Then you best be real sure about it," he murmured, his voice lower now, rougher. "’Cause I ain't the type to stop once I get goin'."

You stared at him, heart pounding, feeling the heat rolling off him in waves. His grip on you was steady, grounding, but there was a restraint there too, a hesitation in the way he was holding himself back. You could see it in his eyes—the way he was waiting, watching, letting you decide.

Slowly, without thinking, you reached up and touched his face, your fingers grazing over the stubble along his jaw. His breath hitched, just barely, and for a brief second, you felt him lean into your touch. It was the smallest thing, but it sent a thrill through you, a rush of something you weren’t sure you could name.

"You ain't answerin' me," Arthur said, his voice quieter now, rough around the edges. His lips were still close enough to brush against yours, his hand still firm on your waist. "You really wanna test me tonight?" The way he said it sent heat pooling in your stomach, but you weren’t about to back down.

You let your fingers trail down to the collar of his shirt, gripping the fabric lightly as you whispered, "I think you already know the answer to that."

Arthur exhaled sharply, a rough chuckle leaving his lips before he muttered, "Christ, girl, you’re gonna drive me mad."

And before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time, more urgent. His fingers dug into your waist, pulling you flush against him, and the sheer heat of him, the solidness of him, sent your head spinning. You barely registered the way you shifted, the way the space between you disappeared entirely.

All you could feel was the warmth of his hands, the slow, deliberate press of his lips, the way he kissed like he had been holding back for far too long. He wasn’t hurried, wasn’t frantic, but there was a weight to it, a slow-burning intensity that made your skin prickle with anticipation. His hand drifted up from your waist, trailing along your ribcage, not quite reaching too high, but enough to make you shudder.

Arthur noticed, of course he did, and the low hum he let out against your mouth told you he liked it. "See?" he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. "Told ya you were restless."

You swallowed hard, breath uneven. "And what’re you gonna do about it?" Arthur smirked, the kind of lazy, knowing smirk that made your stomach flip.

His fingers traced over your jaw again, lingering at the corner of your mouth before trailing lower, lower—until he hooked his thumb at the edge of your bottom lip. "Open.” He said, voice rough, firm.

Your breath hitched, and for a second, you hesitated, not because you didn’t want to, but because the weight of it, the sheer intensity in his voice, sent a thrill down your spine. But then you did, parting your lips just slightly, just enough for him to press his thumb inside, resting against your tongue, testing.

Arthur let out a breath, low and deep, his eyes never leaving yours. "Good girl." And that was where you lost whatever composure you had left. Your breath shuddered against the thick air between you, the weight of Arthur’s gaze pressing down harder than his thumb resting heavy on your tongue.

His jaw tensed, and for the briefest second, something in his eyes flickered, something dark, something wild, but then he huffed a rough, low laugh, shaking his head like you had just made a mistake.

"Jesus," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. His thumb dragged down, slow, tracing the curve of your bottom lip as he pulled back, leaving the ghost of his touch lingering there. He wiped his hand on his thigh, jaw clenching as he exhaled through his nose. "You ain't got a damn clue what you're askin' for, do ya?" The words were teasing, but there was something else underneath them now, something strained, something barely holding together. You swallowed hard, your pulse still hammering as you reached for words that wouldn’t come.

Arthur watched you for a long moment, his eyes dragging over your face like he was memorising every reaction, every little shift in your expression. Then, with a quiet scoff, he ran a hand down his face, muttering something too low for you to catch. His fingers twitched against his thigh, his breath coming rougher now, uneven.

He shifted slightly, his knee brushing against yours, his weight shifting between hesitation and something heavier, something you could feel simmering between you. He paused, lips just inches from your ear. Arthur’s breath hitched as you held his gaze, the weight of his hesitation heavy between you.

The air was thick, suffocating, and as his thumb brushed over your lip, you could feel the pulse of his restraint, each second stretching further than it should. You weren’t backing down now; the heat between you was undeniable, and every part of you was alive, aching for more.

His eyes flickered with uncertainty, the same conflict you had seen earlier returning like a storm rolling back in.

He pulled back, just enough to give himself some space, but his hand never left your waist. "You’re too young for me." He muttered, his voice gruff, but the way he said it made you feel something far different than what he intended.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a teasing smile. "So you don’t want this?" you asked, letting the words hang in the air like a challenge.

Arthur’s jaw clenched, and for a second, he just stared at you, as if he was weighing his next move. "Never said that," he growled, his voice rougher now, his eyes searching yours for something. "Just... don’t know what the hell I’m doin’." He leant back slightly, but only enough to give you some room to breathe, his hand still tight on your waist.

You didn’t give him the chance to pull away completely. Your lips met his again, soft at first, hesitant, but then deeper, your body leaning into his as you pressed yourself against him.

His breath faltered, the tension between you growing thick as he let you guide the kiss. He didn’t pull away, but his hands remained still, like he was waiting for some sign, some permission to move forward. His thumb brushed over your lips again, tracing the curve of your mouth, as if he couldn’t help himself, but there was still something holding him back.

Arthur’s breath left him in a rush, and before you knew it, his hand was gripping your hair, his other arm pulling you tighter against him, as if he couldn’t stop himself. "Christ.” He muttered under his breath, his lips crashing against yours in a way that made everything else fade away.

His control was slipping, and you could feel it, the way his hands shook as they moved over your body, the way his touch grew more insistent, more desperate. He paused for a moment, his lips still on yours, but his breath was heavy now, his chest rising and falling against you.

"I ain't lookin’ to ruin ya.” He muttered, the words coming out like a warning, but you didn’t want warnings.

You wanted this, wanted him, and you made sure he knew it. "Pity.” Your voice barely a whisper, but it was all he needed. His resolve snapped.

His lips crashed down onto yours again, harder this time, and you could feel the heat of his body, the fire building between you. He kissed you as though he needed it, as though nothing else mattered anymore. The kiss deepened, more urgent, more hungry, and you could feel him pressing against you, his hands moving down your body, pulling you closer with each second.

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. But just as quickly as it had all started, he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as he breathed heavily, his fingers still tangled in your hair.

"You’re gonna drive me mad," he muttered, his voice low, hoarse. You could feel his heart racing, his body tense as he fought to hold onto whatever control he had left. His hands moved to your shoulders, gently but firmly guiding you back. "You’re too young for this, girl.” He said again, his voice almost pained as he looked at you, searching your face for something, anything that would tell him he wasn’t making a mistake.

You just looked at him, your chest still heaving from the kiss, and nodded. "Never said I was innocent.” You murmured, your voice barely above a breath.

He let out a strained laugh, the sound almost bitter as he ran a hand down his face. His eyes flickered with something—desire, regret, confusion—before he kissed you again, slow this time, like he was trying to remind himself of what he was doing.

His hand moved from your hair, down to your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. The kiss was softer now, but the heat was still there, simmering beneath the surface. He pulled away again, his breath ragged, his eyes dark. He studied you for a moment, like he was trying to read the answers in your face. "You sure you want this?" He asked, his voice rougher, uncertain. You nodded, just once, but it was enough.

"God, yes." You whispered, and this time, he didn’t pull away. He kissed you again, his touch growing more insistent, but he still held back, like he was teetering on the edge of something he couldn’t undo.

The kiss deepened, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty, just the two of you, lost in the heat of the moment. But as quickly as it had started, he pulled away again, his hands shaking slightly as he ran them through his hair. "You’re gonna be the end of me," he muttered, his voice low, like he was talking to himself more than you. You didn’t say anything, just stared at him, feeling the pull between you. "You don’t know what you’re askin’ for.” He warned, his voice rough.

But you just smiled, the corners of your lips curling up slightly as you looked at him, knowing full well what you wanted, and what he wanted, too.

“Then show me, old man.” You thought you were being real cheeky. Arthur just clicked his tongue before he rolled over, now caging you between the bedroll.

“You gonna wish you ain’t runnin’ that sweet mouth.”

Like a man on a mission, one with hunger, his large hands went to the waistband of your pants, and tugged them right down, making you gasp in shock; both from his agility and the cold that kissed your thighs.

“Fuck, look at you, sweetheart. Could see that fucking wet patch from miles away. Ain’t you such a needy thing.” Arthur cooed, bringing a thumb to rub over your wetness.

You whined at the contact, hips jerking when his thumb managed to delve and kiss your clit. “Arthur, please?” You pleaded, raising your knees to be on either side of him.

“Huh, so now it’s Arthur,” he shook his head, though complied to your demands. He curled two fingers into your panties and pulled them down, exposing your sopping cunt, even through the dim moonlight, Arthur could well see your neediness. “Ain’t that something.”

“Need you real bad, Arthur. Can’t wait.” You sighed, hiking your hips up to get more of him on you.

“Quit your rushing, girl. You ain’t the only one who’s been needin’ this.” Arthur scoffed, using his forefinger to run through your folds, gathering slick.

His confession caused your heart to skip a beat. Had you been blind all along? How many opportunities had you missed?

“As much as I would love to get right to it, I need to stretch you out first, sweetheart. I’m a little to the hefty side, so bear with me.” You moaned out, eyelashes fluttering as he sunk in two, thick fingers.

“Oh, Arthur.” You felt unbelievably stretched, even though pain blossomed between your legs, it was easily overlooked by pleasure.

“Shit, darlin’. You’re real fuckin’ tight. This might take a while.” Arthur’s voice was wrecked, like he was talking through gritted teeth.

There was only so much the man could endure, and having the patience to not devour everything about you, was none of that.

“Arthur, please? I can take it, don’t need no prepping. I need you, Arthur. Don’t you need me?” You at this moment craved to feel him inside you.

“Sweetheart, if I didn’t need you, I sure as hell wouldn’t be knuckle deep in your pussy.” He chuckled, shaking his head. Arthur curled his fingers, the thick digits pressing against that sweet, spongy spot inside you, causing you to cry out. He twisted his wrist, fingers flipping with before he spread them inside you, prying you open more and more.

“Oh, fuck, Arthur.” You moaned, fingers curling against the thin blanket below you.

“Just relax. You’re takin’ my fingers so well.” He praised, feeling your juicing drip onto his palm. He lifted his thumb, the pad finding your abandoned clit, rubbing and flicking at it.

Your eyes tipped back into your head, your toes curled in your socks. Arthur’s fingers caused you to make sounds you never knew you could.

You clamped down on him, causing Arthur to his. “Shit, girl. Y’squeezin’ me real tight. Don’t even know if I could fit.”

“N-No! You’ll fit. Fuck! Have to…” you managed to get out, before your words melted to moans, something tightening and tugging in your lower belly.

“You’re pretty determined. Guess we’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

At this point, your thighs were shaking, and your body was sweating, yet you managed, with trembling fingers, to reach into Arthur’s lap, and nudge at his belt, desperately trying to get it undone, but efforts were fruitless. “O-Off. Take it off.”

“Geez, darlin’. Buy me a drink first?” You rolled your eyes, more so than they were, at his joke. You sighed out when he complied, free hand meticulously able to undo his belt, and even slide it from its loops.

The rest was easier, you were able to pull his zipper down, and then reach his underwear, tugging in jarred movements, at the black fabric.

Your body shuddered as his cock sprung free. Arthur was not joking. He was huge, and had a brain melting girth to him, topped by an angry, throbbing tip. You had no idea how you were going to sit still tomorrow, or even mount your horse.

Your back arched, your cunt was making lewd, wet sounds fill the tent. You huffed and choked on moans, yet you were able to wrap your fingers around Arthur’s cock, finger tips barely touching.

Arthur hissed at the contact, as if you burnt him. “Yeah, girl. Stroke me nice ‘n slow. Don’t wanna cum too soon.”

Arthur wrapped his larger hand around yours, using yours to fist his cock as he thrusted his hips into your hand. He bent his neck, pursed his lips, before a thick glob and saliva dropped down onto the shaft of his cock, now coating your palm as you jerked him off.

“Mm, that feels pretty good. Good fucking job.” He sighed, a crease forming between his brow.

His fingers has slowed, too caught up in what you were doing, before he snapped back, vigorously rubbing at your clit, and thrusting his fingers in you.

“O-Oh, Arthur! Can’t hold on any l-longer! Oh! Oh!” You cried, fingers tightening around his cock. A rather loud moan tumbling from Arthur’s lips.

“Cum, sweetheart. Make a mess on my fingers. Shit, yeah. Let me see what you can do.” Arthur’s fingers curled once more, and that’s when white filtered in your vision, and you were cumming hard.

Your cum splashed onto his hand, dribbling down your ass, throat going raw from the sobs you were letting out. Arthur’s fingers didn’t stop until you finished.

“S-Shit, okay. Let go of me now. I think you’re ready f’me, aren’t ya, girl?”

You nodded, letting your fingers drop from his cock. Arthur shifted on his knees, now angling himself until his cock was prodding at your hole.

He wrapped his slicked hand around his cock, coating it further in your release until he was satisfied. He glanced up, waiting for you to stop him, to which you’d never.

His hand fell to your hip to squeeze it as he pushed in, slowly, letting you adjust.

You whined as he went, cunt fluttering around his veiny shaft as he sunk in, until the tufts of hair on top his balls grazed your clit. Arthur let out a long sigh, now fully sheathed inside of you.

He drew his hips back, cock glistening, under the faint moonlight that trickled through the tent, covered with your previous arousal, before he sunk back in. It was slow, he was testing the waters.

You shifted beneath him, silently telling him to hurry up, not that you wanted to get this over and done with, but you just needed more.

Arthur sniggered, he almost wanted to say ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you’ but he felt that would ruin the moment. Instead, he grounded his knees into the bedroom before he pulled out, then snapped his hips forward, hips rhythmically thrusting into yours at a toe curling pace.

Arthur’s lips were suddenly below your ear, grunting and groaning into the shell of it. “Y’know how many times I’ve imagined this, sweetheart? Enough times for me t’wonder if I was even gonna make it to heaven.”

You moaned, loudly, at his words. Fingers flying to his shoulders, even though they were covered by his shirt. “Thought you s-said I was too young for you.”

Arthur grunted, breath hot on your skin, hips pushing you up in small movements. “That’s the part that was gonna send me to hell.”

You tried to give a smile, though your lips wobbled, falling open as you moaned for him. “It didn’t stop you…n-now.”

“Should’ve.”

“Am I the best you’ve had?” You asked, with staggering confidence.

Arthur chuckled, though it came out ragged. “It’s not a competition, girl. Why? Am I the best you’ve had?”

You moaned, they slowly came out higher and higher as his fat tip nudged your sweet spot. “N-No. You’re like second bes-st.”

“Second? Guess we’ll have to change that, then.” Both of Arthur’s hands were on your hips, digging into the flesh before they spun you around, chest now meeting with the bedroll, cock slipping from you momentarily.

Arthur let out a low whistle at the sight of your bare ass. Rough palm immediately going to the ample cheeks, spreading them to see both your holes. “Y’ever gonna let me fuck you there?” Arthur asked, thumb barely grazing your tight ring of muscles causing you to gasp.

“What? No. That’s…dirty, it’s gross.” You coughed.

Arthur hummed, his cock pressing back to your cunt before sliding back in with ease. “Not t’me, girl. Not to me.”

Arthur moved his weight, now leaning forward until he was just about laying on top of you before his hips found their steady rhythm.

This new angle had him so much deeper, filling you up entirely. You didn’t mind when his rough patch of hair brushed the glove of your ass, or how your breath came out shallow as he slinked an around your neck.

Your face was smushed between his thick muscles, hair awry. This position had you leaking more.

You had no where to go, not as his cock bullied your hole, you were stuck between Arthur, all hot above you, and the bedroll. Arthur was murmuring sweet nothings to you, rolling his hips, sharing your moans. “Sweetest fuckin’ pussy ever. Gonna get me greedy over it, sweetheart. Don’t know if I’d be able to go a day without it.”

You tried to get words out, but it was almost impossible with how your cheeks were pressing together.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“I said…you don’t have t-to.”

Arthur grinned, hips pummelling harder into yours. “Givin’ up your pussy to this old man? How mighty generous. But don’t worry, darlin’, I don’t plan to go a day without fuckin’ you.” You clenched around him at the thought.

Arthur Morgan was going to ruin you, for good.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Drool dribbled from your lips, your fingers digging into whatever surface they could find. “A-Arthur, think I’m gonna cum again.”

Arthur sped his movements up, balls slapping into the front of your pussy as they swung. “Cum, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.” He grunted.

Your vision blurred and your brain melted, dribbling through you and out your legs as your cunt spasmed, and before you knew it, you were gushing around him.

“S-Shit, girl. Making such a big mess, good fuckin’ girl.”

Arthur pulled out, hand wrapping around his cock to jerk it before he was spilling his thick load onto your ass. He shuddered as he came, hips stilling when he finished.

Arthur groaned when he was done, chest rising as he sat up on his knees, staring at the faint sight of the mess he made of you. He sighed, pulling out a handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his cum off you, before he was tugging your pants up your thighs, and his up his.

He slummed to the side, back to his sleeping bag while you shifted on yours. His arm found you and pulled you roght to his chest, lips ok your forehead. “Now y’better fall asleep. Don’t think I can do any more rounds.”

You snorted, though your eyelids fluttered in tiredness. “Bones can’t handle it?”

Arthur huffed. “I’ll show you what these bones can handle.”

And before long, you were sliding onto Arthur’s lap, shimmying out your clothes again, preparing for the long, long night ahead of you, even if we’re about to fall asleep.

#𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐓𝐈𝐈 #my works—★!#rdr1 #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut

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plummy-squish · 3 days ago

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THIS IS MY NEW RELIGION!

Im going to go off topic then come around.

Growing up Mormon i was so sick of this expectation put on me to be perfect, especially being perceived as a girl in the church. There is this look i needed to present, vibe i needed to give off, and value to give especially the men in my life. They also demonized feeling emotions and making mistakes and learning from them. I genuinely stopped me from being me and i didn’t even realize.

It also irks me when a guy says he wants to “leave behind this legacy”. They often are thinking of this movie characters saving the world, or pulling this huge heist, or having lots of money and fame and this huge personality. I feel like they grew up being told if they don’t do something great with their lives that it was meaningless. And they are always the worst guys to be around, always talking about the future and feeling depressed about who they are right now.

If we go into a room with others we have to provide value to it always and especially with a personality and experiences we just aren’t or don’t have. And that’s ok! We will make ourselves miserable doing that.

CANT WE JUST BE HUMAN?

If you want to do something great with your lives that’s fine but i hope that comes from a genuine place of desire. I feel like it’s been engrained into us to do something and be perfect. And that’s just not realistic of being human. Most of us won’t live up to that and all of us aren’t perfect. I wish we would place more value in contributing to a room or the world the ways we do best.especially in this capitalist society we live in we are told we have to do something.

If you look a Brennan now he’s doing just that. He’s created this community of people that provide value because they are able to be them selves in this community. Therefore providing more than they would have force to fit into this box people make up. (If you want to think of it as providing, i like to think of it a thriving). He has unintentionally created this so called legacy by doing what makes him happy. (If we all strived to do what actually made us happy we would “contribute to society” more than we will if our goal is just to contributing to society. But also there is just value in being alive).

This need to fit in a box set by others and to avoid being perfect has limited growth but especially happiness for me. I think there is beauty in enjoying life as we are and living for the day to day moments not in what we contribute to others. Why can’t we just believe we are valuable because we are alive?

There is beauty in uniqueness, there is growth in enjoying living, there is art in imperfections.

“Can’t i just be me? Is that not allowed?” -messy by Lola young

feeling so many feelings about all of this

#exmormon #exmo #brennan lee mulligan #my new obsession #my new religion #the human experience #creativity

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nimbusclan · 2 days ago

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Moon 5 Part 2

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

Moonstar gasps awake, sitting up so fast she rams her head into the thick underside of a low-hanging branch that she and her brother had spent the night taking turns sleeping under. They’ve been doing that, taking turns – who knows what things are lurking out here in the dark, so far from home.

If they can't go back, does it still count as home?

“Ow…” Moonstar groans, a sharp throb pounding against her skull. What a way to start the morning.

Fogfreckle ducks his head underneath one of the branches, sweeping past the leaves to gaze curiously at his sister. He tilts his head questioningly, mouth open to ask what’s wrong, when the words die on his tongue and his eyes widen.

“Fogfreckle!” Moonstar mews excitedly, leaping to her paws. “You’ll never guess what happened!”

“Your– your forehead,” Fogfreckle croaks. “You… were visited by StarClan?”

“What about my forehead?” Moonstar asks, confused and distracted. She presses a paw against her head to see if perhaps she’s bleeding, but her paw doesn’t come away warm or wet. The rest of her brother’s words filter to her slowly through the dull throb of pain and the fog of the early hour. She pouts. “Yeah, Star– how did you guess so quick?”

“There’s– your forehead. You have a star. A leader’s star.”

Moonstar’s pout deepens. “Well. That kind of steals my thunder.”

“Moonpool, what happened?”

“Moonstar now, actually.” Moonstar grins. “StarClan visited me in my dreams and granted me my nine lives. Isn’t that crazy? I didn’t even have to– there was no–” Moonstar’s tongue can hardly keep up with everything that’s swirling in her brain, the experience of her leader’s ceremony playing back to her as if memory and not just dream. “NimbusClan lives on, Fogfreckle. In us, just like you said. We’re to lead NimbusClan into its new future.”

“‘We’?” Fogfreckle asks weakly, jaw slack with disbelief.

“Of course, ‘we’!” Moonstar laughs, bounding closer to her brother. She feels so full of life, coursing through her like the widest, wildest river. “I wouldn’t be here if not for you, you know that. Besides, what’s a leader without her deputy?”

“Deputy?” Fogfreckle repeats, dumbstruck.

“What are you, a raven?” Moonstar laughs. “Yes, deputy! As leader, I’m appointing you as deputy of NimbusClan, Fogfreckle.”

Fogfreckle swells with pride, pale chest fluffed out as he inhales a shaky breath. “I– yes, Moonstar. Thank you.”

“Don’t get all formal on me, now. You’re my brother first, deputy second.”

“So, we really are still a Clan.” He grins, then the expression fades from his face somewhat. His eyes take on an earnest shine. “Did you… I know you’re not supposed to talk about the ceremony, but… when you visited StarClan, did you… did you see our parents?”

Moonstar smiles gently, heart squeezing painfully in her chest. Dad had told her to tell Fogfreckle that their parents miss him, too, so surely StarClan won’t be displeased if she shares just that much? “Yes. I saw them. Mom and Dad. They told me to tell you they miss you.”

Fogfreckle hiccups, stepping close to push his head hard against Moonstar’s.

“I wish you could have seen them too,” She adds in a whisper, nuzzling into his dawn-warmed fur. The sun is just starting to crest the side of the mountain on its way up, crawling lazily into the sky. Greenleaf heat creeps on silent, soft paws across her pelt. It’ll be humid later, but for now, it’s pleasant.

“Maybe they’ll walk in my dreams one day, too.”

“I hope so.” Moonstar presses one more smile into his fur and then pulls back, squaring her shoulders in what she hopes is a leaderly fashion. It’s only her brother, but she may as well start getting used to playing the role. “Alright, deputy. What’s our first order of business?”

Fogfreckle grins. “How about breakfast? I could go for some eggs.”

“Perfect idea.”

Both cats stretch out their paws and take off, bounding up the mountain.

[Previous] [Start] [Next]

#once again i am fussing about with the backgrounds #will i ever be satisfied?#tune in next moon to find out!#clangen #warrior cats #wc #waca #moonstar #fogfreckle #i like how a lot of these expressions turned out

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ironworked · 16 hours ago

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Let me distribute some protective gear before I get into it *hands out wigs and clown noses*

Ok. So remember how we thought Buck's speeches at the cemetery and at the hospital were about Tommy (finding a family with the 118 etc)?

What if they were about Buck?

Things were rather quiet in 911Land during his relationship with Tommy (at least for Buck) and the relationship itself had been smooth sailing, so maybe when he had his talk with Josh he only had a very nebulous view of that future he wanted with Tommy.

But now Buck's abandonment issues have been triggered, and he's going to go through some very dark moments (Eddie possibly going to Texas, Maddie getting kidnapped) and then, presumably, some very good ones: Eddie fixing things with Chris; Maddie and Chim reuniting and with their new baby; Karen and Hen adopting Mara; Bobby and Athena with their new house...

and then... Buck.

They have said Buck needs to figure himself out (I don't remember what expressions they've used but something along those lines).

Maybe, just maybe, the idea is that after that 'transformative' relationship with Tommy, Buck will find himself going through life 'alone' (all those bad events, and all those celebrations), and that will make him know that he didn't just want Tommy in their easy relationship, that he wants him by his side during hard times, and during the happy ones too.

'Especially when things go wrong.' / 'I can't imagine anything more painful than going through life alone.'

And that's what will make him reach out.

[I say 'alone' because obviously he's surrounded and loved by his family of choice, so what we're talking about here is that particular kind of companionship that he lacks and he's been looking for since s1]

#Tv: 911 #bucktommy #is this what they're doing? no clue #it doesn't seem impossible though #because it doesn't require much planning and there's many ways for the resolution to unfold #I just don't know what else he could be meant to figure out during/after all this (if the intention even is for him to succeed!)

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itscamile222 · 3 days ago

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hiiii dear!! first, for you to know, we don’t care at all about what you think because you’re just an anti!! second, thanks for the repost!! that means many more people will be able to read my essay.

third, and this goes to all the antis that are commenting/sending me things!! all i said is based in REAL and PROVEN experiments you can look up yourself!! but like i know for you antis is so hard to use your brains or think correctly i’m going to make your job easier, telling you some things you can research!!

double slit experiment!!

the many worlds quantum theory

quantum immortality

everything has a frequency

CIA’s gateway experiment

i’m assuming you do know other things i’ve mentioned which are simple and basic physics things you lear at school!!

and i suppose of course you’re familiar with Einstein’s relativity theory!! since you all are always talking about science…

extra sources:

journeys out of the body by robert monroe (yes it’s a book, if y’all know how to read)

Neville goddard’s books!! researched about consciousness, imagination, etc (yes antis!! more books for you to read!!)

now a reminder for the future:

ANTISHIFTERS DNI!!

HOW SHIFTING WORKS- scientifically based thesis

“we´are infinite beings destined to explore the infinite universe”

NOTE: i´m not a scientist nor a physicist. This essay is based on self interpretation of information and things i´ve learned about consciousness, quantum physics, nature of reality, etc.

We´re four dimensional beings, meaning we´re composed of both physical and non physical (intangible) things. We have three layers: body, psyche (alias consciousness) and soul. Our bodies are just the envelope, the vehicle our consciousness occupies in order to live a human experience. Accordingly, our true self is not our body, but the consciousness that occupies it. Having that in mind, we´re able to move to the next point.

Everything — and this is scientifically proven — is made of energy. Vibrating energy makes matter, and consequently both matter and energy have frequencies. Every single thing has a different frequency: objects, sounds, emotions, etc. Therefore, reality as a whole, with all of its elements combined, vibrates at its own frequency.

Thanks to quantum physics, we know particles of energy can be in different states and multiple places at the same time in superposition when there isn't a conscious observer. While being observed, energy/particles behave differently, being perceived at one state and place. This experiment shows the same particle can and does exist in many states/places at once, but we´re only able to perceive one state/place at a time.

ENERGY → MATTER → REALITY

We can only perceive one reality (state of energy/matter as a whole) at a time for the reason the human experience we're living limits us to do so. Although, like energy is coexisting in many places/states at once, and we know for certain that energy composes matter, which makes the (physical) reality, we can affirm there are many other realities besides this one, but we´re not able neither to perceive nor interact with them.

ENERGY → MATTER → REALITY

“ ↳ MATTER → REALITY

+∞

PINK: what we percieve

BLUE: what coexists but we don’t perceive

Summing things up, there are many other realities coexisting in the very same space as this one, but each reality exists in different frequencies, so realities never interact with each other. That said, we are able to introduce the main character: shifting.

Shifting doesn't happen in your consciousness, shifting happens with — and thanks to— your consciousness. Your body is trapped in this reality because it's part of this reality, for the reason bodies are physical things that can only exist in one state. Your consciousness, on the other hand, contrary to your body, can shift because it's not something physical, it's not made of matter. Consciousness doesn't belong to any reality, it just experiences them. Consciousness cannot die, so when your body faces death, your consciousness continues existing in other realities. This can explain both reincarnation and heaven, since your consciousness shifts to a reality that fits what you expect/believe you´ll experience after death.

With shifting, we´re doing the same but intentionally, choosing the reality we want to experience,with the difference our Cr body is still alive, so we can come back.

By shifting, we´re changing the frequency of our consciousness — which is the same as our Cr— to match the frequency of the reality we want to become aware of. You have to shift your inner world in order to shift the outer physical world (the 4d and the 3d).

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lilmisshellfireswritingblog · 4 hours ago

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Play With Fire - Johnny Storm x fem!Reader

Authors Note: Well, since we have officially been introduced to MCU Johnny Storm, here's a little one shot I wrote a month ago because I am absolutely feral for Johnny Storm. We don't know much about how he's going to be portrayed so, I used my imagination. I hope you enjoy!

PS: Smut is not my forte so I hope it's...satisfactory.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, contains adult content, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, smut, lots of fire puns (I'm not sorry or maybe I am), lots of yapping

Pairings: Johnny Storm x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k+

The glimmering lights of the charity gala bathed the New York skyline in golden hues, casting long shadows on the sleek, chrome surfaces decorating the event. The décor was a striking blend of mid-century modern aesthetics—smooth, flowing lines, geometric shapes, and vibrant colors—reminiscent of a time when the future was just a few glamorous steps away and held a more optimistic approach.

You didn’t want to be here but there you were, trapped in a sea of tuxedos and satin gowns, your father’s arm draped possessively over your shoulder like a shield. It had been his idea to bring you along, of course, a desperate attempt to put up a "family-first" front after the affair rumor hit the front pages of The New York Post a week ago.

You hated galas. You hated the small talk, the polite smiles, and the thinly veiled gossip that filled the air. You hated the way your father’s overbearing presence had turned the night into a performance, with you as the unwilling starlet.

“I’ll only be a minute,” your father whispered to you, his fingers tightening around your arm in that way that said, don’t move. “Keep a smile on your face. This is important. Our family needs this.”

You barely suppressed a groan, nodding stiffly before he was off, mingling with the city's elite. His eyes, always sharp, locked onto the wealthy faces around him, like a predator hunting for its next meal.

You took a deep breath, turning away from the throng of people, hoping for a moment of solitude. The jazz band played in the background, their smooth melodies swirling in the air. You found yourself in the back corner, near a large glass window overlooking the city.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the room, a confident swagger to his stride. Johnny Storm, better known to the world as the Human Torch, was hard to miss. His sharp blue eyes gleamed, his blonde hair tousled just enough to look casually effortless. He was, of course, dressed to the nines—a sleek black suit that hugged his athletic frame and a white shirt that gleamed in the ambient evening lights.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. His exploits were plastered across every major newspaper and the tabloids couldn’t get enough of his charisma and charm. He was a man of fire, literally and figuratively, the kind of person who seemed born for attention.

There was something different about him tonight. No flames. No flashy heroics. Just Johnny, looking slightly out of place amidst the formality of the gala.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he caught sight of you and flashed a grin, as if he’d spotted an old friend. “Well, well,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice warm with amusement. “What’s a beautiful woman like you hiding in the corner all by herself? You look like you could use some company.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Not really,” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the glass. “I’d rather be anywhere but here, to be honest.”

Johnny’s grin faltered for a split second, then he chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. These things can be a pain. All the smiles and the handshakes and small talk.” He leaned against the wall next to you, hands in his pockets. “You’re not here for the free drinks, then?”

You shook your head. “My father dragged me here. He thinks it’ll fix... everything.” You waved vaguely toward the sea of tuxedos and gowns. “But you know how it is—people with money can’t stand to be seen as anything less than perfect.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his tone thoughtful, as he glanced around. “I get the pressure. I mean, being a public figure comes with a lot of... expectations.” He flashed a grin, a little wry. “You’d be surprised how many charity galas I’ve attended for reasons that had nothing to do with actual charity.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You? I would’ve guessed you'd be more of a ‘save the day, destroy the bad guys’ type.”

Johnny laughed, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall and stepped a little closer. “That’s mostly me, but tonight… tonight I’m just Johnny. No fire. No superpowers. Just a guy who’s probably as uncomfortable as you are.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You know, I was thinking about ditching this whole thing and heading to a dive bar. Could be more fun. You in?”

Your lips twitched upward. “I’m supposed to be here for my father. This whole thing’s a mess.”

Johnny shrugged. “Tell you what then. When your father’s done playing the ‘perfect family’ game, I’ll swing by and whisk you away for some real fun. In the meantime, if you ever need a distraction, just holler for me, doll. I’m pretty good at getting people out of awkward situations.”

You met his gaze, amused and a little skeptical, but something about his laid-back confidence and easy charm made the idea tempting. "I'll keep that in mind," you said, your voice softer now.

Johnny’s eyes flickered over to the crowd for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re probably sick of being the center of attention,” he said quietly. “I get it. Sometimes you just need a break from all the... stuff.”

You gave a short, quiet laugh. “If only it were that easy.”

Johnny’s grin returned, this time a little softer, more genuine. “Well, if you need a superhero to make your night a little less superficial, you know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he turned with a wink, slipping back into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of well-dressed faces.

You stayed where you were for a while longer, the sound of the gala and the distant jazz playing in the background. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, was one of the last people you’d ever expect to feel any kind of kinship with, but for a few moments, he’d made you feel a little less trapped in the fake world your father had built around you.

And in a night full of forced smiles and shallow conversation, that small bit of genuine connection felt like a flicker of light in a sea of cold steel and polished chrome.

The gala was starting to wind down. The last glasses of champagne had been sipped, the tables cleared, and the final whispers of forced pleasantries echoed through the room. Yet, despite the event nearing its end, the energy hadn’t quite shifted. The jazz band had given way to a recorded track—a gritty, energetic tune that you instantly recognized.

"Play With Fire" by The Rolling Stones.

The heavy, seductive beat reverberated through the room, slinking through the air with a raw, untamed edge. It was unexpected. Unusual for a place that so carefully curated its atmosphere with smiles and good intentions. But there it was—one of the most rebellious songs of the time, now lacing the air, intoxicating and dangerous.

Somehow, as if it were fate, amidst the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns, Johnny Storm appeared again, walking toward you like he had some kind of magnetic pull.

He flashed you a smile, his eyes gleaming under the cool, metallic lighting, his posture still effortless and relaxed despite the formality of the event. “Didn’t think they’d play this here,” he said, nodding toward the speakers, his voice amused. “I mean, talk about ruining the mood.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the deep growl of the guitar riff matching the beat of your heart. "Definitely not the kind of song you'd expect at a gala like this."

Johnny tilted his head slightly, the mischievous grin never leaving his face. “You know what? I’ve got an idea.” Without waiting for your response, he extended a hand toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Dance with me.”

Your first instinct was to refuse. You weren’t in the mood for any more attention, and honestly, you didn’t dance. However, something about Johnny's easy confidence and charms, the casual way he dared you to step out of the perfectly controlled lines of this polished world, made you hesitate.

He wasn’t asking for anything extravagant, not some perfect ballroom spin or rehearsed routine. He was just... offering a moment.

For a heartbeat, you just stared at him. And then, as the chorus of “Play With Fire” blasted louder, you shrugged and took his hand. "Alright, Mr. Storm. Let’s see what you’ve got."

His grin spread even wider as he gently pulled you toward the center of the floor. The room seemed to narrow around you. Those who had been murmuring and sipping champagne suddenly halted as they took in the scene.

But you didn’t care. Not now.

Johnny’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his other still holding yours as the two of you moved together. The pulse of the song matched your quickening heartbeat, and, for once, you didn’t mind the eyes on you.

The music seemed to speak to both of you, something unrestrained and reckless—something wild that had been suppressed by all the proper rules of society. Johnny’s movements were smooth, fluid, and effortless. He had the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to make the world bend to his will, and yet, somehow, his presence didn’t feel as overwhelming as you would assume.

You stepped in time with him, your own body moving with a freedom you hadn’t expected. The lyrics about temptation and fire seemed to mirror the electrifying pull between you. There was something present that was dangerous but exhilarating. Forbidden but impossible to resist.

You looked up at him, half in surprise, half in something else you couldn’t quite name. His eyes flickered back to you, almost searching, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was more like he was giving you the space to decide just how far you'd go, how far you'd let this wild, reckless moment carry you.

“You know,” Johnny said as he guided you through a slow turn, his voice low, “they say if you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.”

You raised an eyebrow, the edges of your lips curling upward. "You know what they say about fire, right?" you teased, spinning under his arm. "It can warm you up just as easily as it can scorch you."

He gave you a roguish wink, pulling you close again as the song picked up speed. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The world around you seemed to fade away as the music built in intensity. The room, the gala, the whispers—everything was irrelevant in that moment. All that existed was the two of you moving in sync to the rhythm, bodies close, the heat of his touch igniting a spark in you that you hadn’t expected.

The song surged toward its climax, the pounding drums pushing the beat faster, wilder. Johnny’s hand slipped lower to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and the space between you vanished entirely. You could feel the heat of him. His body was a living furnace against yours, the friction of his energy igniting something within you, something that had always been held in check by the carefully constructed life you’d been forced to live.

You danced like you were both on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the line between control and surrender. Johnny’s laugh was infectious as he spun you one last time, a wild, unrestrained sound that made you realize how much you’d been holding back all night. He twirled you back into his arms, the song roaring in your ears as you laughed.

The moment lingered there, suspended in time. A brief but intense escape from the world you’d known.

When the final notes of "Play With Fire" echoed through the room, you stood there, breathless and laughing softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well,” Johnny said, grinning down at you like a devil. “I think we’re both burned.”

You caught your breath, a little dizzy from the rush but you didn’t mind. “Yeah. Maybe. But it was worth it.”

He gave you a knowing look, eyes full of something that was both playful and... something more. He was the Human Torch, but in that moment, he wasn’t just fire. He was a spark that could have burned everything or lit a whole new path.

And maybe, for the first time all night, you felt like you were standing on the edge of something that wasn’t entirely out of your control.

Johnny winked, lowering his head so his lips were resting at the crest of your ear, his voice just above a whisper. “Sometimes, the best part about playing with fire is the burn.”

You smiled, feeling the heat of it in every fiber of your being. You hadn’t expected to find anything real tonight, but then again, you hadn’t expected to dance with a superhero to this song either. It was dangerous. Reckless.

It felt like freedom. That was the best part of it all.

The last notes of "Play With Fire" still echoed in your ears, even though the beat had long since faded, replaced by the hum of a million voices, all of them too eager to return to the business of looking perfect.

You had somehow ended up on the edge of the dance floor, your breath still uneven, your pulse racing from more than just the rhythm of the music. Johnny stood beside you, his smile more subdued now, a knowing glint in his eyes as if he understood that something in you had shifted—something you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. The dance had been reckless, free, but the moment you’d stepped back, the world around you had tried to pull you back into place.

His presence, however, still felt like a spark. An electricity you didn’t want to let go of. Not yet.

“Well,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, the earlier mischievous tone replaced with something a little softer. “That was fun.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Fun? You could say that again.” Your laugh was a little more breathless than you intended, but you didn’t care. It felt good to be this... unfolded for once.

“You know,” he continued, stepping just a little closer, the heat of his body still too tempting, “the night doesn’t have to end here. There’s a spot… a little hidden place I go to when I need a break from all this.” He gestured toward the glittering ballroom, the clinking of glasses and forced chatter drifting in the background. “It’s up on the rooftop. Private. Quiet. I think you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach. Of course, Johnny Storm had a “private spot” for everything. He was, after all, the Human Torch—effortless, smooth, always in control. However, there was something about the way he said it, about the quiet invitation in his voice that made it hard to ignore. Maybe you did want to escape the fake smiles and phony pleasantries.

You glanced toward the entrance of the ballroom, where your father was still busy shaking hands with some benefactor from the event, lost in his world of polished deals. You hadn’t been looking forward to more of that tonight.

A part of you, the part that had spent so long just trying to keep things together, felt that pull. You needed to break free, even if just for a moment. And another part of you? The part that had danced with Johnny, felt his heat like an actual flare against your skin? That part wanted to see where this could go.

“Fuck it,” you said, your voice quieter than you expected. “Lead the way..”

Johnny’s grin returned, the familiar flash of confidence lighting up his face. Without another word, he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd with a smoothness that barely made anyone notice. His fingers curled gently around yours, warm, sure, the touch casual yet intentional. It was like he knew exactly how to move in this world—his world—while making it feel like it was all about you in that moment.

You followed him through a door to the back of the venue, into a dimly lit corridor that led to a discreet elevator. Johnny pressed the button without a word, his eyes briefly meeting yours. There was something unspoken between you two, something that felt like it had been building without either of you realizing it.

The elevator ride was quick, almost too quick, and when the doors slid open, you stepped out onto the rooftop.

The air hit you first, the cool night breeze sweeping through the garden, carrying the scent of the city mixed with something sweet and floral. It was a sharp contrast to the glossy, manufactured world of the gala below. Here, on the private rooftop, everything felt different. The towering buildings of Manhattan stretched in all directions, but above, it was quieter. More intimate.

Johnny led you through the garden, where lush greenery contrasted against the stark steel and glass of the city around you. The lights here were soft, golden, hidden beneath the plants, casting just enough light to make the space feel almost like a dream. The far-off hum of the city was muted here, and the distant skyline stretched like a canvas of muted lights.

“This is… nice,” you murmured, taking it all in. The silence, the peace, the fact that for a moment, you weren’t anywhere but right here with Johnny. No cameras, no whispers, no obligations.

“I come up here when I need a break from the chaos,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, matching the serenity of the space. He stopped beside a stone bench, and you both stood for a moment, taking in the view together. “Sometimes it’s good to just… get away. I don’t know about you, but tonight felt like I needed to breathe.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of that. The gala had been suffocating in its own way. Full of too many expectations, too many eyes watching. Too much of your father’s mask.

Johnny leaned against the edge of a low wall, hands in his pockets, his body slightly turned toward you. His eyes, usually so full of energy and fire, seemed softer in the dim light of the rooftop garden. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come up here,” he admitted with a small smile. “Most people aren’t exactly keen on leaving the spotlight. But I like that you did.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the rush from the dance still lingered, making it hard to keep your calm exterior. “What can I say? I needed a change of scenery. I guess you could say you have a way of making people want to step out of their comfort zone. Besides, the spotlight isn’t my thing. Never was.”

He chuckled, and there was a genuine warmth to it. “I don’t know if it’s me, or just that sometimes you need someone who isn’t afraid to break the rules.”

You met his eyes again and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had gone still. The wind was the only thing moving, brushing through your hair and ruffling Johnny’s shirt just slightly. And yet, there was an electricity between you two, quiet but undeniable.

“You’re a rule breaker, huh?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

Johnny’s smile turned a little more wicked, that familiar mischief lighting up his face again. “Maybe,” he said, pushing off from the wall and stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe it’s just that… sometimes the rules are there to be bent.”

He was close now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the same heat that had burned so bright on the dance floor. His presence was magnetic, inescapable, and you had to fight the urge to step closer to him.

“Well, I think you’ve already set my night on fire,” you said, voice a little breathless.

Johnny didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he took another step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was electric, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

You could feel the tension building between you—every heartbeat, every breath. The city below, the skyline, and the quiet garden was all just background noise now.

“Maybe we should just let the night burn then,” Johnny said softly, his voice deep and seductive, like he was speaking just for you.

You didn’t know what you were stepping into, but right then, under the stars with Johnny Storm, you didn’t need to. You let go of the last of your reservations.

And for the first time tonight, you let the fire take you.

Johnny was close, closer than you’d expected. His presence, that electric heat that never quite seemed to dissipate, was undeniable. His eyes were on you, dark and steady, but there was something different in them now. There was now something softer, more deliberate than the playful energy that had defined their banter earlier in the night.

You stood beside him, heart racing, mind whirling. The dance had been the first spark, the moment when something unexpected flickered between you. But now? The air felt thick with unspoken words, each one hanging in the space between you like a slow-burning fuse.

“You know,” Johnny said, his voice low and surprisingly serious, “I don’t come up here often with anyone. It’s usually just me and the stars, you know? The chaos gets too loud sometimes. But tonight… Tonight it feels different.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t talking about the view or the quiet of the rooftop anymore. He was talking about you. Something about his tone, about the way his words wrapped around you, sent a shiver down your spine. The fire in him had shifted. The flippant hero, always surrounded by chaos and light, was now speaking softly, his words like an invitation, a promise.

“I get that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is nice. Peaceful. I could see why you wouldn’t want to share it.”

Johnny took a half-step closer, the space between you narrowing until his breath was warm on your face. His blue eyes—those beautiful stormy, electric eyes—searched yours like he was looking for permission, or maybe waiting for you to make the first move. The gravity between you was palpable, magnetic. Everything else faded into the background. All that mattered was the two of you standing there, in the heart of the rooftop garden, this space between chaos and quiet.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his lips curving into a slow, unsteady smile. “I’ve been thinking... maybe I’m the kind of guy who can burn things down and fly, but I also know when it’s time to stop and just... feel. Not many people know that about me.”

His words wrapped around you like a firestorm, the heat of them sinking deep into your chest. It was too much and yet it was everything you’d been craving all night. No pretense. No walls. Just the raw pull of the moment, the intensity that was flaring between you two like a flame in the dark.

With no more hesitation, Johnny’s hand lifted, slow but sure, as though he was asking for permission even now. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and light, his touch like a spark against your skin. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the touch so intimate that it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, his voice low, just for you. “I won’t burn you.”

You swallowed, your own breath a little shaky. Something wild had taken hold of you, some primal urge that told you not to hold back. You stepped into him, closing the last of the distance between you.

“I’m not afraid of getting burned,” you said, your voice a little hoarse.

Johnny’s eyes flickered with something hot, something unrestrained. And then, without another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that matched the fire he carried inside. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more urgent, intense, full of heat, yet strangely soft. His lips were warm, the taste of him a mixture of whiskey and something electric, something undeniably him.

His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the warmth of him. His body. His energy. It surged through you like a live wire. You kissed him back, your own hands rising to tangle in his hair, feeling the wild heat of his touch consume you, like he was setting a fire inside you that you didn’t know how to extinguish.

For a moment, there was nothing but the heat of the kiss, the steady rhythm of your heartbeats echoing through your chest. The world had fallen away. There were no rumors, no expectations, no father or gala or fake smiles. There was only the two of you, locked in this perfect, intoxicating moment, a kiss that felt like it could burn down the whole city and leave nothing but the ashes.

When you pulled back, just for a breath, Johnny’s eyes were darker than before, smoldering with something that went deeper than the fire he controlled. His chest rose and fell with each breath, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his forehead leaned against yours, and he whispered your name, like it was a secret he’d been dying to share.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your chest pressed against his. There was a quiet calm in you now, something that had been absent the entire night. Something that told you, even with all the fire and heat, maybe this was just the beginning.

“Maybe you’re more than just fire, Johnny Storm,” you whispered back. “Maybe you’re something a little softer. Less dangerous than you put on. Fire can be beautiful too. It’s not always destructive.”

Johnny’s laugh was low, his lips brushing against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Maybe,” he said, voice teasing but tender, “but I still have a few flames left to share.”

As the night stretched on, with the soft breeze swirling around you and the city still pulsing below, you knew one thing for certain: there was no going back. Not after this. Not after the fire had burned so bright between you.

You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back.

The city lights below flickered like a sea of stars, but up there on the rooftop, the night felt different. The soft hum of the wind moving through the plants, all of it was a contrast to the tension crackling between you and Johnny. The kiss you’d shared earlier hadn’t been enough—it was only the beginning of something more. Something you couldn’t quite control.

You needed more.

Johnny stood close to you. Too close. But you didn’t want him to step back. His scent lingered in the air around you, a mix of the fresh outdoors and something smoky, something undeniably him. His eyes, dark and electric, never left yours, and every beat of your heart seemed to echo between you. His lips were slightly parted, his breath shallow, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” Johnny says breathlessly. “You’re playing with fire.”

You felt a thrill run through you at the words. Everything about him. From his cocky grin, the edge of danger in his voice, the way his body practically hummed with heat… He was irresistible. You tilted your head slightly, daring him with a soft smile.

“I think you’re the one who started the fire, Johnny,” you said, your voice low, teasing. It wasn’t a challenge, not exactly, but it felt like one all the same. Something between the two of you had shifted and now there was no going back.

Johnny took a step closer, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. You could feel the air between you thickening, crackling with an energy you hadn’t known you craved until now. His hand reached for you, slow and deliberate, but he didn’t touch you just yet. Instead, his fingers hovered near your waist, the slightest of touches, making you ache for more.

“You sure you can handle it?” Johnny murmured, his voice almost playful, but there was an underlying intensity in his words.

You swallowed, your pulse racing. “You’re the one who’s burning up,” you whispered, taking a small step forward, closing the last bit of distance between you.

Your pulse quickens at Johnny's bold words, your breath catching in her throat. You look up at him through hooded lashes, your heart racing in anticipation.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you ask, you voice barely above a whisper. With a sudden burst of courage, you wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him flush against your body. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the cool night air.

“Because either way, I'm willing to take the risk,” you confess, your lips hovering tantalizingly close to his. You close the final distance, pressing your mouth to Johnny's in a searing kiss. Your tongue darts out, teasing the seam of his lips before delving inside to tangle with his.

Johnny groans into the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist to pull her tighter against him. He returns your passion with equal fervor, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duel. The taste of you is intoxicating, and he drinks it greedily, lost in the heady rush of desire. Breaking the kiss, Johnny trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses your back against the cold stone wall. The hard planes of his body molded perfectly against your body. Johnny grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Tell me you want this,” Johnny said breathlessly, his intense gaze on you.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pins you against the wall. The rough texture of the stone contrasts sharply with the heat of Johnny's body, making you acutely aware of every point of contact.

“Yes, God yes,” you moan, your hips bucking against his in a desperate bid for friction. “I want this. Burn me alive, Mr. Storm.”

Your words are punctuated by a series of urgent kisses, your mouth seeking out Johnny's with a hunger that borders on desperation. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his suit. You want to tear the fabric away, to expose the man beneath and claim him as your own.

“That's the spirit,” Johnny praises, his voice thick with lust. He captures your lips again, devouring you with a primal intensity that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His hands roam freely over your curves, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh. Johnny slips a hand beneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before pushing them aside to delve into your slick heat. Johnny groans, his thumb finding your clit and starts rubbing it in slow, tortuous circles. “You're so wet for me already. I can't wait to taste you.”

With a swift motion, Johnny rips open your dress, the fabric ripping with ease. He palms your bare breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they pebble under his touch.

“You're perfect,” he rasps, leaning in to capture a pert bud between his teeth.

You cry out, you back arching as Johnny teases your sensitive nipples. The sensation of his hot mouth on your skin sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, making you throb around his invading fingers. “Oh fuck, Johnny!” you gasp, your hips grinding wildly against his hand. “Don't stop, please…”

Lost in the haze of desire, you fumble with the fastenings of Johnny's trousers, desperate to free his straining erection. You need to feel him. All of him. As if reading your mind, Johnny relieves you of the task, swiftly shedding his pants and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and pulsing with need. You wrap your hand around it, stroking the velvety length with reverence.

A hoarse cry tears from your throat as Johnny thrusts inside you completely, stretching your inner walls to their limit. The sudden intrusion triggers a wave of intense pleasure that courses through your veins, leaving you trembling and breathless.

“Johnny... oh god, yes!” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size. You start to roll your hips, experimenting with the delicious friction as Johnny remains still inside you. The sensation of his hot, hard length nestled deep within your core is almost overwhelming, stoking the flames of your desire to new heights. Impatient to move, you clench your inner muscles around Johnny's cock, urging him to start thrusting. “Please, Johnny,” you beg, your voice husky with need.

Johnny's restraint snaps at your pleading and he begins to move, setting a relentless pace that has you crying out in ecstasy. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the night air.

“You're so damn tight,” Johnny growls, his eyes locked on your face as he watches you come undone beneath him. “I can feel every inch of you milking my cock. It’s driving me crazy.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. The rooftop garden blurs around them, replaced by a world consisting solely of heat, hunger, and the primal urge to claim and be claimed. Johnny breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck, biting and sucking at the delicate skin.

“Come for me, baby,” Johnny mutters into your neck, panting as he kept up with his relenting pace. “Come for me.”

The combination of his rough treatment and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge. Your inner walls begin to flutter and clench, signaling your impending climax. You wrap your legs tightly around Johnny's waist, locking your ankles behind his back to draw him impossibly deeper.

“Johnny, I'm gonna—!” you scream as the first waves of an orgasm crash over you, your pussy spasming wildly around his pistoning cock. The intense pleasure is almost too much to bear, sending you hurtling into a maelstrom of bliss. Through the haze of your release, you feel Johnny's movements become erratic, his thrusts growing shorter and more urgent.

Johnny's grip on you tightens as he feels your pussy convulsing around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. The sensation of your clenching walls and the sound of your ragged breathing spur him on, driving him to new heights of pleasure.

“That's it, baby, squeeze my cock,” Johnny grunts, his hips snapping forward in short, brutal strokes. “You're mine, all mine.”

With a final, guttural roar, Johnny buries himself to the hilt and erupts, painting your insides with his hot seed. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he loses himself in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. As the aftershocks subside, Johnny collapses against you, his weight pinning you against the wall.

Breathless and sated, you cradle Johnny's face in your hands, gazing up at him with adoring eyes.

“That was... incredible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with residual pleasure. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at the way his heated skin seems to glow in the moonlight. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the lingering effects of their passion, leaves you feeling vulnerable yet deeply connected to Johnny. “I've never felt anything like that before,” you confess, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and wonder.

Johnny's chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. He's still buried inside you, their bodies intimately entwined. The sensation of your warmth wrapped around him is almost too much to bear.

“You're something else,” Johnny murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were trouble, but fuck, I wouldn't trade this for anything.”

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, and sees the same awe and vulnerability reflected back at him. It's a moment of raw honesty, stripped of pretenses and societal expectations. Johnny brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle compared to the fierce passion they just shared.

Your heart swells at Johnny's words, your soul feeling as if it's been set ablaze by the intensity of their connection. You reach up to frame his face, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones as you search his gaze.

“It was a good reprieve from all the formalities,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers trace the contours of his jawline, marveling at both the strength and unexplored tenderness etched into his features.

Johnny nods, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, definitely a nice distraction from all the pomp and circumstance,” he leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender, exploratory kiss. It's a stark contrast to the passionate frenzy that preceded it, but no less potent in its own way. When Johnny finally breaks apart, he rests his forehead against yours once more, his breath mingling with yours. “I should probably get you back downstairs before anyone misses you.”

Despite the practicality of the situation, neither you nor Johnny make a move to disengage. The moment stretches on, heavy with unspoken promises and the knowledge that their lives will soon return to their usual trajectories.

You sigh softly, the sound caught between your lips as you reluctantly pull away from Johnny's embrace. The sudden chill of the night air against your overheated skin is a jarring reminder of the world beyond this hidden alcove.

“Yes, we should…” Your voice trails off as you gaze up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow across his face. There's a bittersweet quality to the moment, a sense of longing for something that may never come to be. “But what if I don’t want to?”

Johnny's eyes flash with a hint of mischief at your words, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Then we stay up here all night and let the world keep spinning without us.”

#fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #Johnny storm #Johnny storm x reader #human torch #human torch x reader #fantastic 4 #fantastic 4 fan fiction #Joseph quinn #the human torch #x reader #reader insert #fantastic four

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nameless-jamie · 2 days ago

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MY OUR HOUSE

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

A/N: AHHHH! First one of this series! Let's gooo. Please read the PA x Jamie Tartt series first, so you'll get it! I hope you love it, hardcore fluff!

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Yup, they finally did it. Jamie Tartt and Y/N, his trusty assistant have been together for over a year now. They’ve been through the awkward stages—the miscommunications, the unresolved tension, the late-night talks about feelings they hadn’t yet fully admitted. But they were solid now. The days of pretending they were just an assistant and her prickish football player boss are over. As a couple, they’d found their rhythm and pulse together. How, you ask? Well, that happened a year ago and it's a totally different story. Now they are the happy couple, that everyone predicted they would be. And though they didn’t have it all figured out all the time—Who did?—there was a certainty now. A warmth in knowing that they were on this wild ride together. No matter what.

Currently, they have one problem, though. Jamie and Y/N were tired. Tired of commuting between Jamie's huge bachelor mansion and Y/N's small flat. So, today, they were taking a massive step. After weeks of debating where to live, they were finally choosing a place to call their own.

And it all started like this: Y/N stood in the middle of Jamie’s house, looking around with a mixture of disbelief and a lack of affection. She could see the effort Jamie had put into this space, making it the perfect bachelor pad—though she wouldn’t call his million-dollar mansion "homey," it was very much his—but there was something about it that felt cold, empty even. A place that might look good in a magazine but never felt lived in.

"Honey, I love you, but your place is a fucking nightmare," she said, her voice a little softer than usual. It wasn’t criticism—just an honest statement. She loved him more than anything, but the house… not so much.

Jamie, dramatically clutching his chest like she’d just insulted the very foundation of his existence, gasped. “Babe, you take that back. My place is well nice!” His grin was infectious, but it didn’t quite convince her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, an exhale slipping from her lips as she glanced around. "Jamie, it looks like a footballer’s bachelor pad exploded and no one cleaned it up."

Jamie scoffed. "It’s modern. S’called style."

Y/N crossed her arms, her lips forming a playful but pointed frown. “It’s sterile, and way too big for one person. How do you even live here?” She gave the room another glance. “It’s like a showroom for nothing.”

“Modern,” Jamie repeated, more to himself than to her, before shrugging with a little smile. “And, it’s... practical.”

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders softening. “Yeah, for someone who’s single and ready to mingle.”

That made Jamie smirk...the perverted kind. "Nah, I'm taken...still ready to mingle, though...If you're up for it." He said with wiggling brows.

"Nope, not until we fix this commuting situation or this Playboy mansion..."

Jamie grinned. "S’pose I should get someone to move in, then."

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Well yes maybe. D'you have someone in mind, yet?”

They both paused the air between them thick with the unspoken. Moving in or not? She knew he wasn’t wrong; they’d spent months now navigating their relationship—learning each other’s quirks, arguing and laughing, and eventually learning how to move forward from it all. They've known each other long before that, even lived together for like a week (scratch that, that was a nightmare). But this? This was a bigger step.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jamie, we’ve been dating for a year," she continued, her voice a little quieter now, but firm. “We spend almost every night together, but neither of us wants to live in the other’s place. What does that tell you?”

Jamie blinked. "That you should stop bein’ stubborn and move in with me?"

Y/N groaned. "Jamie!"

"What?!"

Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes. "It means we should get a place together. Something that actually feels like ours. Not just a place that’s convenient. Not just your empty bachelor pad."

Jamie’s grin faltered slightly, just for a second, as if he was still trying to figure out how to reconcile her vision with his own. And then, slowly, a warmth spread across his face. She wants to go all in, he thought. It wasn’t just the cheeky grin she knew so well of him; it was something more vulnerable, something real.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly, his voice taking on a quieter, more sincere tone, his heart full. “Yeah, we should. I would love that, baby.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, surprised at how deeply those words resonated. This wasn’t about the perfect space, the perfect decor, or the perfect house—it was about the two of them finally deciding to make a space for themselves. Something that belonged to both of them, something that could hold their life and their future together.

The house-hunting process was… a disaster at first.

Jamie hated anything that didn’t have state-of-the-art amenities.

“Babe, the shower pressure is shite,” Jamie had groaned when they toured a particularly swanky house, clearly unimpressed with the plumbing.

Y/N wanted a place that felt warm, lived in, and a home that would make them feel grounded. Jamie? He had other priorities.

Y/N hadn’t even blinked while looking through another very steril, very fancy home. “Jamie, this house has zero personality.”

Jamie had flashed her a sheepish grin, clearly not understanding what she meant. “It’s got everything, baby.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “It’s a showroom, not a home. Where’s the character?”

They had almost given up.

And then, as if by fate, they stumbled across a house just outside the city. A little larger than what Y/N had imagined, but perfect in every other way. The second they walked in, there was an overwhelming feeling of comfort. The high ceilings, the natural light that poured in through every window, the spacious kitchen that was begging to be used—it felt like the kind of place where their lives could unfold, messy but beautiful.

They stood in the living room, not speaking for a few seconds, just taking in the space.

It was perfect.

Big, but not ridiculous. Warm, and welcoming. It even has a freakin' garden.

“Sooo,” Y/N finally said, voice soft and a little teary-eyed. “This one, yeah?”

Jamie wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he looked around, letting out a long breath. Finally, their home. “Yeah. I think so. That's the one.”

And for the first time, Y/N realized they weren't just talking about the house. They were talking about the future they were building together.

Jamie’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing as his fingers traced patterns over her waist. “Loads of space,” he murmured, looking around at the open floor plan. “For all your books. For all our shoes. For me trophies.”

Y/N laughed, but it wasn’t just the usual teasing. There was something more in her heart, something deeper. She was happy. She shot him a knowing glance. “You mean your one trophy?”

Jamie gasped in mock disbelief, hand dramatically placed over his chest. “Babe. Unbelievable.”

Y/N grinned. "Anything else?"

Jamie grinned devilishly, eyes glinting. “Loads of space for babies.”

Y/N paused. Her heart skipped, but she kept her voice steady, not letting her emotions fully spill out just yet. “Jamie…”

“Oi, I’m just sayin’,” he teased, stepping closer, his hand brushing her side. “Reckon we could have a whole little team, yeah? Tartt FC.”

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of his words settling over her like a promise. "Let’s move in first before you start planning a whole squad, alright?"

Jamie smiled back, but there was something so warm in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t help but feel everything fall into place.

“Deal.”

The first night in their new house was chaos.

Jamie had insisted on carrying Y/N over the threshold in some grand romantic gesture, but it was more of a comedy show than a scene from a fairytale. He’d almost dropped her because he misjudged the step, and they both ended up laughing, tangled up in each other in the doorway.

“Babe, you’re movin’ too much!” Jamie said, panicked, as they teetered dangerously on the edge of disaster.

“Jamie, put me down before we both die!” Y/N gasped, laughing through the ridiculousness of it all.

But eventually, they made it inside, safe and sound, only to find that the unpacking wasn’t much less chaotic. Jamie was distracted by his attempt to get the TV working, while Y/N took on the bulk of the unpacking.

“Jamie, love of my life, what are you doing there?” Y/N called over to him, already knowing the answer, but indulging him anyway.

“Setting up Sky Sports,” Jamie muttered, eyes glued to the TV. “Priorities, babe.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself. “Your priorities should be helping me unpack so we can actually sleep in a bed tonight.”

Jamie shrugged, looking at her from over his shoulder. “We could just sleep on the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time we did it on a couch.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Jamie Tartt, if you think we’re spending our first night in our new house on the couch, you’ve lost your mind.”

Jamie grinned mischievously. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. S’not like we’d be sleeping much anyway.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was affection behind the sarcasm. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie teased, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “You love it. Babe, we gotta break in the new bed, yeah?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, but her voice was laced with nothing but affection. “Unbelievable.”

Jamie laughed softly, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, a gentle smile resting on his lips.

By the time they finally got everything done, bed built, things unpacked, it was late as hell.

They collapsed into bed—their bed, in their house—and just lay there, soaking it all in.

Jamie turned his head, watching Y/N’s beautiful face in the dim light.

"We did it, baby," he murmured.

Y/N smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. "Yeah. We did."

Jamie squeezed her hand. "We’re gonna have a good life here, I promise. I love you so much."

"I love you more, honey." Y/N hummed, then turned her head. "You still thinking about your very own Tartt FC, huh?"

Jamie smirked. "'Course I am."

Y/N rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "You really want a bunch of little Baby Tartts running around?"

Jamie smirked. "Babe, who wouldn’t want that?"

Y/N snorted. "The world isn’t ready."

Jamie laughed, tugging her down so she was flush against his chest. "Reckon we should start practicin’ then, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, swatting his arm. "Go to sleep, Jamie."

Jamie kissed the top of her head, grinning against her hair.

"Yeah, alright. But tomorrow," he murmured, "we’ll start scouting for the team."

Yes, Y/N knew exactly what he meant by that...

#jamie tartt #ted lasso show #ted lasso #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #afc richmond #sam obisanya

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sherrylephotography · 3 days ago

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A letter from Bernie Sanders. Bernie Sanders is a senator in Vermont USA.

I’m getting a lot of calls from people who are not only upset about what’s happening, but are wondering how we best go forward.

My response: We must be smart. We must be organized. And we must fight back - effectively. This is not a time for wallowing in despair and hiding under the covers. The stakes are too high. We’re not just fighting for ourselves. We’re fighting for our kids and for future generations. We’re fighting for the future of this planet.

Further, we must not become overwhelmed and think that Trump has some kind of extraordinary mandate and an inevitable glide path into the future. That’s what the right-wing mouthpieces want you to believe, but it’s not true. Trump won the election because Kamala Harris and a very weak and out-of-touch Democratic Party received 5 million votes LESS than Biden did in 2020, not because Donald Trump or his agenda were popular. His agenda can be defeated.

So, where do we go from here?

First, we’ve got to understand what, in fact, is happening around us right now.

Second, we need a short-term strategy. What do we do tomorrow and the day after that?

Third, we need a long-term strategy. How do we build a grassroots movement that gains political power?

In terms of what is happening right now under Trump I see three key elements. President Abraham Lincoln, at Gettysburg, talked about a government “of the people, by the people, for the people.” Under Trump we are seeing a rapid move toward oligarchy in our country — a government of the billionaire class, by the billionaire class, for the billionaire class. And it’s not being done secretly. It’s right out there for all to see. Two weeks ago, Donald Trump was inaugurated for his second term as President of the United States. Standing right behind him were the three richest men in the country – Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and Mark Zuckerberg — men who have become $242 billion richer since Trump was elected, and who are now worth a combined $932 billion. This is more money than the bottom half of America — 170 million people.

Not surprisingly, Musk, now a key part of the administration, spent over $277 million to get Trump elected. Bezos and Zuckerberg both kicked a million each into Trump’s inauguration fund. Bezos, who owns the Washington Post, rescinded the Post’s editorial board’s endorsement of Kamala Harris. Zuckerberg had his Meta corporation settle a lawsuit with Trump for $25 million. These three multibillionaires are working with Trump because they understand one very important reality. Trump‘s policies are designed to make the very richest people in this country even richer.

But it’s not just oligarchy that we should worry about. This country, under Trump, is moving rapidly toward authoritarianism. The rule of law and our Constitution are being undermined.

Just a few examples: in violation of the Constitution and federal law, Trump attempted last week to suspend all federal grants and loans. That means he blocked funding for Medicaid, Head Start, community health centers, homeless veterans programs, etc., etc. Tens of millions of Americans, including some of the most vulnerable people in our country, were impacted by that decision. Fortunately, Americans all across the country stood up in outrage and said NO. And with the help of the courts much, but not all, of that freeze in funding was rescinded.

Trump is intimidating the media with lawsuits against ABC, CBS, Meta and the Des Moines Register. His FCC is threatening to investigate PBS and NPR. If Trump does not like what the media does, he goes after them — undermining the First Amendment, dissent and freedom of speech.

Trump pardoned the January 6th insurrections who injured 174 police officers at the Capitol. Now, he is investigating the FBI agents who helped bring these violent criminals to justice. His goal: condone violence and turn the FBI into a national right-wing police agency.

That is a very broad overview of where we are today.

In terms of a short-term strategy, we have got to mobilize as strongly as we can against Trump’s dangerous proposals.

And let me just say this: Yes, the Republicans control the House and the Senate, but don’t forget, their majorities are small. In the House, a body of 435 members, they currently have a three-vote majority. That is a razor-thin margin and their legislation can be defeated or modified — if we fight back.

There are a number of Republicans who won by small margins. And, let me tell you, these guys do respond to phone calls and emails. So, if there is a piece of legislation you disagree with, get on the phone and call the Capitol switchboard at 202-224-2131.

And what is some of the legislation that we should be concerned about?

Republicans right now are working on a budget reconciliation bill which would provide massive tax breaks for the wealthy. This gift to the rich would be paid for by large cuts in Medicaid and other programs that working families and low-income people desperately need. At a time of unprecedented income and wealth inequality, when so many of our people are struggling to put food on the table, we must not savage programs for working families to provide huge tax breaks for billionaires.

We must vigorously oppose Trump’s efforts at mass deportation. YES, we must strengthen our borders. YES, we should deport people who have been convicted of serious crimes. But NO, we cannot destroy families who have lived and worked in this country peacefully for decades. Not only is Trump’s mass deportation program immoral, it will have a severely negative impact on our economy.

We are seeing extreme weather and devastation in our country and all over the world related to climate change. Think about Los Angeles. Think about North Carolina. We must vigorously oppose the absurd “drill baby drill” doctrine, which will only make an incredibly dangerous climate situation worse.

And those are just a very few of the issues that are coming down the pike.

But we cannot just play defense. We have got to be on offense. Please, never forget, the agenda that we are fighting for is widely supported by working families all across this country. And we must continue to fight for that agenda.

The American people do not want cuts to Medicaid and the privatization of Medicare. They understand that health care is a human right, not a privilege. We must continue the fight for Medicare for All so that every American has the health care that they need. That’s not a radical idea. That’s what Americans want.

The federal minimum wage of $7.25 an hour is a starvation wage. We must raise that minimum wage to a living wage, at least $17 an hour. If you work 40 hours a week, you should not be living in poverty.

All over this country, we have a major housing crisis. And it’s not just the 800,000 who are homeless. It is millions of working families who are spending 40, 50 or 60 percent of their limited incomes on housing. Instead of spending almost a trillion dollars a year on a wasteful and bloated Pentagon budget, we have got to build millions of units of low-income and affordable housing. And when we do that, we put large numbers of people to work at good-paying union jobs.

I could go on and on, but let me conclude by saying this. The United States is the wealthiest nation in the history of the world. If we stand together and oppose right-wing efforts to divide us up by our race, our religion, our sexual orientation or where we were born—if we stand together, there is nothing that we cannot accomplish. Yes. We can provide a decent standard of living for every man, woman and child. Yes. We can lead the world in combatting climate change. Yes. We can end all forms of bigotry.

Yes. We can create a government and an economy that works for all, not just the few.

Let’s go forward together.

In solidarity,

Bernie

#letter #bernie sanders #usa #thank you Bernie Sanders #Bernie Sanders gives me hope

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hachama · 6 hours ago

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Look, if you ever find yourself starting a sentence with a concept as ridiculous as "the Jews aren't talking about-" stop. Because I promise you, whatever it is, we are in fact talking about it. We are the people who talk about it. Whatever "it" is, we are talking about it now, were talking about it last week, and will be talking about it for the foreseeable future. We will debate positions that defy logic, from perspectives we don't hold, for reasons we could never explain, in words more numerous than grains of sand in the Negev. It's who we are, it's what we do.

So anyone telling you "the Jews aren't talking about _____"? I hope they choke on those words. That'll give us something to talk about.

People: The Jews aren't talking about Musk!

The Jews: Are in fact talking about it.

The Jews: No one is talking about rising and rampant antisemitism.

People: Are not in fact talking about it.

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sugurusfavemonkey · 4 hours ago

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HIGH ACHIEVER - TWO: CHANGING LIKE THE CURRENT

summary: You've always prided yourself on your grades but when Suguru enters the scene, competing for the top spot in your major becomes more than just a matter of honor. What happens when you're forced to work together on a long project (and so what if he happens to be just your type)? pairing: Geto Suguru x reader word count: 2.7k content: college AU; academic rivals to lovers; short series; mutual hatred attraction; afab!reader; angst/comfort; reader is described as being shorter than Suguru (but then again, the man is about 6'3' so who isn't?); smut (in future chapters - MDNI) ♪playlist♪ +more Jujutsu Tech College AU

"At long last, some progress!" Satoru threw himself on his best friend's bed carelessly, "with the way they absolutely despise you though I gotta say, even I couldn't see that coming. What did you do to actually get them to agree with that? Blackmailing? Threatening?" he shot up from his laid position with a dramatic gasp, "did you finally confess your undying devotion?"

Geto tsked at his theatrical behavior, eyes never straying from the pages of the book set on the desk in front of him. He was more than used to Gojo's antics to the point where it didn't even bother him anymore.

"Yaga got tired of the back and forth and decided to punish us with a group project, see if we learn to work together or something." He decided to explain only to avoid listening to Satoru's endless musing.

"Ah. That does make a bit more sense. Not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be…" Satoru sighed, "how boring."

Suguru wheeled around his swivel chair and faced Satoru with an appeasing smile, but his eyes betrayed his annoyance. "Don't you have a test to study for, Satoru?"

"Why? I'm gonna ace it anyway," he pushed himself up and away from the bed, casually walking towards his friend.

"Of course you will." Suguru ignored his approach, choosing instead to turn back to his desk.

"No need to be sardonic, Suguru. I'm sure you'll do just as well. We are the best, after all," he paused minutely, a large beam forming on his face, "though I'm slightly better."

Satoru leaned over his shoulder, reaching one arm around to close the book with a loud thud and picking up the phone his friend had discarded to the side before he started his studies and unlocking it with a naturalness that suggested he did it often. Suguru tried to protest, once more twirling the chair around to follow Satoru's movement with his eyes, hands clenching around the chair's arms.

"What are you-"

"Now, when are you gonna text her?" He interrupted Suguru, scrolling through the cell, "where even is her contact?" Satoru wondered in a whisper before giving up and pushing the device against Suguru's chest, "just do it already!"

"Satoru…" he groaned, grasping the cell in fear it fell as Satoru dropped his hold on it and walked backward.

"Chop, chop," the white-haired jokester clapped his hands. "You're stalling, pretty boy!"

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother with you anymore."

"Because I'm the most incredible person you've ever met and you love me?"

"Keep telling yourself that." He retorted half-heartedly, but Satoru was already back at the bed, his Switch held above his head as he queued up Digimon World.

Suguru's attention was lured back to the device on his hand then. He drew in a breath in foreboding, staring at the list open on his phone, your contact glaring back at him as he remembered the contempt with which you treated him, the adorable way you frowned in anger at each of his jabs...

"Fuck it," he murmured to himself before opening up a new conversation:

Hey. It's Suguru. I was wondering when we could meet.

He looked at the words after sending the first text and winced at it, immediately following up with two more messages:

To talk about the project. How's your Sunday looking?

Suguru stared impatiently at the screen for a whole minute before deciding he was being a creep and turning it off. He had barely looked up at Satoru and opened his lips to say something when there was a loud ping. The black-haired man scrambled to turn it back on, the notification of a new text received making his head spin and heart accelerate in his chest, it felt like the organ was being squeezed by his ribcage.

I can't on Sundays.

Oh.

Wednesday night had you lying on your bed as you read over Professor Yaga's email with an in-depth briefing on the project appointed to you and Suguru on your phone when a notification from one 'arrogant prick n2' popped up on the top of the screen.

At the shock of receiving a text exactly when your mind had been on said arrogant prick, you lost the hold you had on the device and let out a pained groan when it hit your chest. The throb on your chest from the blow had you spitting colorful curses aimed at Suguru until you managed to sit up and open the message. No, messages.

You opened up the keyboard, letting your fingers hover over the letters until you figured out an appropriate reply. You settled on a plain and straightforward sentence.

I'm sure you have a VERY important engagement on a Sunday.

You audibly gasped as you read his immediate response.

what is that supposed to mean?

I thought you were literate... or do you simply lack reading comprehension?

Just when you thought he couldn't possibly make you angrier, Suguru goes and throws yet another impossibly irritating dig to your intellect. You decided to cut off the conversation before it escalated for once, if at least to keep up your peace of mind:

good to know you're just as insufferable through text. don't bother me unless you have something significant to say.

wait!

You were just about to put your cell down and move on to something productive when the text hit and curiosity kept your attention locked on the three little dots moving as he wrote a follow-up. Chances were it would be another taunt.

I'm actually busy this Saturday with a policy advocacy rally, would you like to come? it could be useful to our project.

You hated when Suguru poked fun at you but, for some reason, you despised when he raised reasonable ideas. It probably had something to do with the fact that the mere idea of being compliant with him made you sick. How someone could elicit such strong feelings from you was a question you would rather leave unanswered for now.

fine. text me the details.

no need. I'll pick you up at 7 am. Send me your address.

"This better be worth it if this lunatic is making me wake at ass dawn on a Saturday," you mumble to yourself, glaring at the text for as if he would be able to feel your discontentment before giving up and sending him the address.

And to think you had found him charming upon first meeting… Only for Suguru to toss your first impression under the bus at the earliest opportunity. You were both still freshmen back then and you were feeling so proud to be able to answer the professor's inquiry with ease when his sweet voice chimed in from the back row of the auditorium, his white-haired counterpart snickering beside him,

"Actually," and it all went downhill.

Teeth grinding together, skin warm and heart thrumming loudly in your ears, the mere recollection was enough to bring your anger up tenfold. It's always been like this: Suguru has a way of getting under your skin with minimum effort that no one else has.

It was a small miracle that it hadn't been snowing that Saturday morning yet the frigid air was anything but forgiving. You mentally cursed Suguru with every single swearword you could think of as you stood by the entrance of your building at 7 am sharp bundled up in a large wool coat and scarf that did nothing to stop the cutting wind from hitting your face or the frostbite to your toes inside the not-so-warm shoes you wore.

You were strongly considering turning on your heel and getting back inside to your awaiting bed when you spotted the approaching car. Suguru parked right in front of the building's steps without turning off the engine and you watched as he leaned across the center console to open the passenger door for you.

"Get in." He ordered before you had time to utter your measly 'good morning'.

You huffed in annoyance, the puff of air leaving your parted lips serving as a reminder of the unrelenting cold and pushing you into action. You could had been petty and ignored his command since you had no obligation to Suguru and his rally, but you also just wanted to get this all done with as soon as possible.

You got in, closed the door behind you and, at Suguru's sharp gaze, put on the seatbelt. You hadn't even settled properly when he reached over you to adjust the grid vent of the air conditioning so the warm air would be aimed at you, the close proximity sending your heart into overdrive as you sunk back against the cushion of the recliner so he wouldn't touch you.

You kept your back flushed to the seat even after Suguru started the drive, hands clutching tight onto the seatbelt strip.

Slowly you began to regain your composure, blood rushing back to your extremities as you got used to the pleasant temperature inside the vehicle.

"Wish-"

"I'm s-"

'Wishing someone a good morning never killed anyone' is what you wanted to say yet you lost your nerve when he started at the same time as you. There was a terse silence as the both of you waited for the other to continue but none did. Finally, Suguru seemed to have enough as he picked up a neat stack of papers he had kept on the dashboard and offered it to you.

"Here," was all he said to present it.

"What's this?" You asked as you hesitantly accepted the papers, eyes curiously peeking at the writing at the top of the first page. You gasped once you managed to get a read on it, "I don’t need a…" you flicked through the pages, finding them to be numbered, and turned your incredulous gaze back to an unbothered Suguru, "20-page lit review, Geto. This project is about getting into the field and talking to people.”

"Tch. So we make uninformed decisions? I'm not surprised though. Being reckless does seem to match your usual approach."

"What's this?" You asked as you hesitantly accepted the papers, eyes curiously peeking at the writing at the top of the first page. You gasped once you managed to get a read on it, "I don’t need a…" You flicked through the pages, finding them to be numbered, and turned your incredulous gaze back to an unbothered Suguru, "23-page lit review, Geto. This project is about getting into the field and talking to people not… overanalyzing or whatever it is you call this madness,” you waved the printed matter in the air in your chagrin.

"Tch. So we make uninformed decisions? I'm not surprised though. Being reckless does seem to match your usual approach," he kept a neutral facade yet his words were anything but, the condescension obvious even as he faced forward, not once glancing at you.

"I am under no obligation to follow you into the stupid rally. I don't care about the dumb politics side of it when there's an obvious course of action to be taken. I'm here because I thought I'd give you the benefit of the doubt," you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched at your words, your gaze settled firmly on his side profile as you spoke. "I should've guessed you would be just as much of a dickhead as usual though."

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel to the point his knuckles turned white but Suguru remained otherwise silent. You took that as some form of reluctant acceptance on his part or at least an attempt to maintain some semblance of peace considering the two of you were stuck inside a car for an undetermined amount of time.

The rest of the trip was spent in agonizing stillness neither of you dared to break.

After nearly one hour, Suguru drove into the garage of a business center building, easily parking his nondescript black car in a tight, vacant spot. Once the engine was off, there was a moment where you just sat there, his hands still on the wheel and eyes steered forward. Suguru sighed before finally turning to you, his gaze softening minutely.

"Listen, for what's worth, I'm glad you've decided to come."

You didn't know what to make of his words. You almost let yourself believe he was being heartfelt until you remembered you weren't used to hearing anything other than patronizing comments or thinly veiled insults coming from him. You narrowed your gaze and gave him a faux saccharine smile.

"Of course. I know you want to get this project over and done with as much as me, Geto."

"…Right," he nodded slowly. "Anyway, we're here," Suguru opened his own door and stepped out of the car, briefly slanting his head to meet your gaze. "Let's move before you make me late," he smirked at your perplexed face and pushed the door close before you could formulate an answer.

"It's not like I'm holding you hostage," you scrambled out of the car and after him, voice a few octaves higher than usual as you closed the passenger door with more force than necessary. "You could've left the car at any point!"

Suguru chuckled lightly as he opened the back door to pick up a black topcoat you hadn't seen thrown over the back seats, "yes, but where would the fun be in that?"

"You just love annoying me, don't you?" You crossed your arms, eyes following his movements as he put on the coat, covering his sinfully thin waist and broad shoulders previously displayed in his perfectly fitted white shirt and high-waisted trousers. How could someone so irritating always look so dapper?!

"And if I do?"

"I-" you gaped, your brain abruptly malfunctioning as you struggled to come up with a comeback.

"Suguru!"

You were saved from the spotlight by a pretty woman waving from the door that led to the inside of the building. Suguru smiled and waved back, motioning for you to follow him.

"Took you long enough," she sidestepped so you could join her inside the lobby.

Suguru hummed, placing a placating hand on her shoulder, a kind smile etched on his face.

"You know it's not like me to follow through when I commit to something, Manami."

"Well, tell that to Larue."

The three of you stopped in front of an elevator and you waited awkwardly until Suguru seemed to remember you were also there.

"Oh, yeah. Manami, this is a… colleague from Jujutsu Tech. Don't mind her, she's just here to watch."

You scoffed but decided it best to ignore his lack of manners upon introducing you opting instead to offer your hand to the pretty woman "Nice to meet you, Manami."

She glanced from Suguru to you and took your hand in a firm handshake, her smile seeming to grow predatory, "Trust me, the pleasure is all mine."

During the ride on the elevator to the floor of the conference room where the meeting was being held, you tuned off their conversation, self-deprecating thoughts making you feel small as you compared your own casual clothing to Manami's tight-fitted, long black dress, dark high heels, and fur-collared white jacket. She looked effortlessly chic with her long dusty pink hair styled in subtle waves while you looked like a plain college student... which you were, and normally, you would see nothing wrong with that, except that something in that specific situation was getting to you. You sighed dejectedly.

You were pulled from your head when the elevator signaled you had arrived at your destination, and Suguru guided you out with a hand to your middle back. The warmth easily trespassed the layers of clothing and brought a flush to your cheeks.

"I have to get to the stage, but Manami will guide you to a seat, alright?" He leaned closer to whisper, warm breath fanning against your ear.

You only nodded, afraid your voice would've failed you.

"Great. Don't have too much fun."

At that, you couldn't help but laugh, covering it up with a cough, but Suguru noticed if his pleased expression was anything to take by, "Don't give yourself too much credit, Geto."

"Don't blame me for wanting to impress you."

"Impress me?"

He shrugged, still smiling as he walked backward and away from you, playful gaze glued to you until you couldn't take it anymore and faced a smug-looking Manami instead.

Suddenly, you wished you had gone back to your bed when you had had the chance.

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taglist: @indiewritesxoxo @nanasukii28 @madamechrissy @myahfig4 @cajunfootrub @feralfortojidotcom @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @starmapz @dunesinruins

#mavi writes #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #suguru geto x reader #suguru x reader #jjk x reader smut #suguru geto smut

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midnight1nk · 2 days ago

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If you all were familiar with my analysis of the flareglow mystery, then you would also know how batshit crazy I was over the username changing on the steam page when it happened a few weeks ago. That's right, we're at it AGAIN! Ink Chasing Wild Goosechases 2: Electric Boogaloo ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Am I serious about this? Yes.

Would this be just as pointless as flareglow? Oh yeah, for sure—

Mystery of the SMG43 Steam Username

⚠️ DISCLAIMER IN INTRO POST ⚠️

CONTEXT

For the new year 2025, I had to start with a theory, obviously. The only unfortunate part was that it had to be flareglow *war flashbacks ensue* but it can't be posted without its twinning mystery of the SMG4 Steam page. Well actually, it's the "Not SMG3. Stop looking deep" Steam page as it currently says, quite a mouthful.

If you somehow didn't know about what's going on with steam, I might as well copy+paste from the quick overview I did (og link):

⭐️ the steam account the Team had (y'know with the GMod models), the username originally was "Glitch Productions" since the SMG4 show is under their company ⭐️ then that username was suddenly changed to "SMG3" with no explanation and no new thing added to the workshop

⭐️ now naturally, the fans were like "was it a hack?" or "was it a glitch from Steam itself?" or "is this a troll?" Basically no one knew, merely speculated (and certainly no one gave us any answers) ⭐️ As for what I thought, it seemed really weird to just change the username. Much more could've been done to the account and yet nothing else happened, which is why I thought the username change must've been done intentionally by the Team (especially bc of the flareglow mystery happening right around the same time as this). ⭐️ THAT is when Cube finally came out with that tweet saying that the Steam thing "didn't mean anything significant" and around the same time, the Steam username changed again to "Not SMG3. Stop looking too deep"

⭐️ Again, nothing new was added to the workshop or profile. The only thing that changed was the username. ⭐️UPDATES⭐️ as of today, there haven't been any changes to the username (I was really hoping that they did, we'll talk about it soon)

Very curious, indeed. ...we DON'T talk about Ben trolling. let's not.

"But what does that mean for us?"

As much as flareglow is a hit-and-miss, there is a big chance that the Team has made these changes intentionally.

REASONING (+ REBUTTAL)

Before we can go over the theories (patience friends), we have to knock out the logical explanations for this:

Nothing Significant

That's it. What Cube said, it didn't mean anything significant. It can be so stupid that it could literally just be the Team wanting to see the fandom notice. For the sillies. Which is basically...

Just a Troll

Whoever changed the username, whether it was the Team or a hacker, they just wanted to make a harmless joke. It's pretty well known that the Team likes to troll with us every now and then.

Looking directly at Ben rn

I mean, we did get word from the Team addressing it, right? Case closed, pack it up. Right?

...And here's where it all comes crashing down:

Out of all the platforms, Steam was chosen. We are all familiar with how the Team likes to tease us for future arcs, one way or another. The most well-known is the banner changing in YT and other socials, but not Steam. The only other time Steam was involved that I could think of was during the Western Spaghetti arc, the train ARG map.

This is CUBE we're talking about. This is the same guy who likes to troll us, aside from Ben. Remember back when the PV website had the "That's all folks!" gif before changing it for WOTFI '24 with Ringmaster 4? Cube tweeted "I used the same website host don’t read into it too much". And THEN when it changed again with "4" being unmasked as Mr Puzzles, all Cube responded was "🥰". Cube, Ben, the whole Team is aware that we pay attention to these kinds of things. The PV website brought attention to WOTFI, it's only natural that the Team wanted us to pay attention to Steam for a reason. Not to bring flareglow into this HOWEVER, don't you find it curious that Cube questioned flareglow before the official comment but didn't do it for Steam? Not to mention the wording being completely off in the official. "doesn't mean anything significant" sounds very much like "don't worry about it :)", even if it turns out to be something dumb. It would've been so easy to say "it's just a troll".

The fact that the username chosen isn't the issue, it's why it was chosen to begin with. Even if you don't consider SMG3's internal fear of never being remembered or loved (4's "pathetic copy"), their names are almost identical from one number away. It seems pretty harmless. But how the hell did the jump go from "Glitch Productions" to "SMG3"? It could've been "SMG4" and have the fans second-guessing. OR use any of the other character names like SMG1 and 2. Now, the counter-rebuttal could be that "it fits 3's character", some fans have commented that "it's Youtube Arc all over again". Fair enough, I thought it could be a sweet callback. BUT (countercounter-rebuttal) it still didn't make sense. If 3 wanted to be discreet about it with a smoother transition from "Glitch Productions", he could've changed it to "Snitch Productions" (also a good callback). And if you think they don't remember that, the Team placed a poster of the logo in 3's room.

There's no clear motive. Like I said in number 3, there's no motive as to why 3 would change it. Well, if it was him. Bringing back to the PV website example, there was a conundrum on why Ringmaster 4 would be asking fans for WOTFI challenges when the Crew and 4 himself had no idea about Puzzle Park. I've predicted before that someone (in this case Mr Puzzles) was impersonating as Ringmaster 4 to confuse the fans and reusing his website for a new purpose while the real 4 wouldn't have any idea. Steam would be the same way; someone with access could easily change the username at will and decide to impersonate 3. And who else had access in the past? *cough cough* ARG map *cough cough*

The timing of these changes. Besides the "SMG3" username change, there's the second username change, claiming that it's "Not SMG3". In hindsight, that doesn't seem like a big deal but the whole thing has been going on for over 2 WEEKS. In their universe, if 3 was joking around and assuming that 4 regained control of the page, the question is why didn't 4 change it back to the OG username? In ours, the Team already knows that the fans noticed the change so why don't THEY change it back?

(BONUS: if I wasn't clear before, it can't be a hacker) If their Steam account was hacked, the first thing they wouldn't think to do would be to change the username. You would have to think like a criminal to understand what I mean. Strike big and fast, leave nothing to chance. Even if this "hacker" wanted to troll around, there would be no reason to change it to "SMG3". I would've expected a keymash or something inappropriate. And again, the Team could've addressed this in a more serious tone and brought the OG username back.

Logic Chess babyyyyy (and I'm eating the pieces)

THEORY TIME

This is it! Before I go on though, I want to state that we're gonna treat flareglow and steam as TWO separate mysteries due to the uncertainty that still lingers with the Spotify situation. Spotify simply sucks. (also let's not bring the nightmare of a song in here.)

Now, the moment you're all waiting for, cue the intro:

Each one will be based on a single element I nitpicked from the whole mystery. It'll be up to you whether or not a few relate to each other, and ofc if you believe any of it. They're simply my "interpretations". At the end would give my overall theory (but I don't think I need to).

"Nothing Significant"

Let's go in the opposite direction Cube has told us. The Team planned to bring attention (and it worked) for a reason, likely for a future arc. Though the username was the only thing that changed on the page, a new item/addon can drop in the workshop as the Team did for the ARG Map. As of the time I'm writing this, nothing has... yet.

It doesn't matter who was responsible for this in the SMG4 universe, SMG3 is involved in the situation voluntarily or by force.

Who's Really Behind the Screen?

First off, we would need to know who had access to the Steam page, and the channel in general if needed. By the roster we got, it would be 4, 3, and Mr Puzzles.

4 wouldn't make sense right away due to lack of current motive, so he's off the murder board... for now

3 might be taking care 4's account while our blue meme lord isn't around, similar to how 3 has during the IGBP arc (most notably the "Announcement..." video). As to why 4 isn't around, it's still too early to call. Either (1) 4's taking a vacation or (2) 4's in danger.

Then if it's not 3, that leaves Mr Puzzles. "But Mr Puzzles is in solitary confinement" Then answer me how Mr Puzzles was able to upload the ARG map without having to access it through 4's PC for Western Spaghetti. Or setting up the live stream for IGBP. Oh, he'll find a way. Besides, we thought Marty would be in jail forever and yet here we are.

Let's talk about motive: out of all three, Puzzles is the only one who currently has a motive. And I mean CURRENTLY. The year just started after all. If any of them get pushed over the edge, pressing the right buttons, 4 and 3 can get one too.

Aside from this, I see the two strange usernames as a sort of conversation:

These were made by two different characters in a dire hostage situation. Person 1, the victim, made the "SMG3" username to call for help to 3 or the victim being 3 himself through Steam to not bring TOO much attention but enough to get someone to notice. Person 2, noticing this later, quickly deflected and changed it to "Not SMG3" and told anyone who saw it to "Stop looking too deep". Almost like a warning.

These are two characters controlling one body AKA possession. Just like number one, Person 1 is calling out for help and Person 2 is trying to damage control and deny it. Except the host character is denying that anything's wrong with them and excuses it like they're sick or something.

Again, these two are how I interpreted but they're not the only ones.

Timing

So... about that hunch. Yeah, it was entirely based on the timing of these changes happened. I found it strange that just as the Team was coming from their break and getting back to work, both flareglow and steam mysteries occurred. And after the comment they left on the New Year's special, something was up according to past Ink.

So, thinking back to how the second username said "stop looking too deep", I kept track of the days the usernames stayed up online. I thought that the answer didn't have to be complicated at all. No ARG, no secret decoding. Basic math. If including the end date in the calculation:

"SMG3" = 3 days

"Not SMG3. Stop looking too deep" = 19 days (as of today)

And this could lead to two things:

(to get this out of the way) it could be a series of numbers we could use for a future password. Similarly how typing "carnival" from the associated episode at the time unlocked the PV website with Ringmaster 4. And the WOTFI website is still up soooooo.....

and now my hunch *sigh* the numbers could be a date for a future arc/event. It was already strange that it dropped days before the first episode of 2025, it then became stranger when the second username is still up to this day. Using the first username, the 3 days would translate to the 3rd month (March) and naturally, the second username, it would translate to the day. If you had known me, then you would've known how I exploded when I realized what big event also happened in March. When the world was never the same again. That's right: It's Gotta Be Perfect (18th of March). Yes, my hunch was goop!4 all along and the date would've been solid evidence that it was gonna come true. Big surprise coming from me. And I said, WOULD'VE because as you can see, we passed those 18 days. Yep, my hunch was just as it was, a load of shit 😔 Still, not all is lost, it could still lead to a date. March has 31 days so if the username changes anytime between now and Day 31, then this would still make it entirely possible.

The Final Theory

Here we are: what I believe what's going to happen in the future of the show. Having all the speculations in one pile made me realize that Cube may be right all along.

Why would it be anything significant when we already knew the answer?

If any of you were veteran followers of mine, first off thanks for sticking with me and my insane ramblings, and two, you might recall one of my first theories. The true first, in fact.

Made before WOTFI 2024, I theorized that the Puzzlevision Arc would come full circle, based on past arcs and hidden details, and it'll all end with an IGBP sequel (link to OG). Though it's dated, a lot of it still stands and in fact, there's even more evidence to support it. WOTFI 2025 arc, The Mario PC Virus, Mario reacts to the Best 2024 Memes. It all keeps coming back.

In the PV arc, Mr Puzzles did indeed launch his streaming service Puzzlevision. And ever wondered what happened to it? 🤔

"Take it from us! The food here is a must, In addition with your ticket, you get PuzzleVision+"

[Mind-controlled Crew // WOTFI 2024]

I suppose it's time for a name change:

PUZZLEVISION+ : NOW AIRING

And that means, goop!4 is still real 🎉 Only this time, Mr Puzzles would destroy the Crew without hesitation. Death, torture, and trauma? It's good entertainment after all. And for that, he would have to be calculated in his plans.

For PV+, he would have to get rid of Mario somehow for always ruining his plans

Western Spaghetti would also get a sequel, but he would have to get rid of Tari to drive Meggy fully insane (the betrayal from WOTFI).

and last but not least, IGBP. Mr Puzzles and 4: narrative foils, two sides of the same coin. Where it all started, it ends here. But if he wants to ensure his chances, Puzzles would have to get rid of 3, the one who saved 4 the first time. (See where I'm going with this?)

We already knew goop!4 and Mr Puzzles' return will eventually happen, the hints are all there, so there shouldn't be any surprise when it does. Nothing significant. But of course, our Crew would get through this, to quote Boopkins from IGBP:

“Love wins! Love always wins!”

[’It’s Gotta Be Perfect’ // timestamp 28:56]

Indeed, love has unironically the power the Crew needed to beat the countless battles they've encountered. Even if it comes with a price, love always remains.

And this also means we might get WOTFI Heist 2 WOOHOO

But hey, that’s just a theory…

AN SMG4 MINI-THEORY

🎶Thanks for dropping by🎶

Now if you excuse me, I'm gonna strangle the Team rn /silly

#smg4 #smg4 theory #Goop!SMG4 #ink rambles #dude it's been such a long time since I said the “theory” line #anyway *dunks this into the trash bin*#also first day back to class i'm tired af

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