#they look like they are silently judging someone

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | TEMPER

sum. : remus is usually a grump, as dismal as a cloudy day and you're his sunshine, whether he accepts it or not -- he denies it vehemently until his sensitive nerves make him lash out the day of a full moon

length : 2.2k

tags. : grumpy remus ; sunshine reader ; opposites attract ; angst with a happy ending ; remus is a meanie ; reader is stubborn ; a little ooc remus lupin ; fluff ; angst

navi. | more remus lupin

Remus thinks you’re strange. He didn’t know of you until you made yourself known to him, wearing the brightest smile he had ever seen on a person. It was like the sun breaking through a stubborn wall of clouds on an otherwise dismal day. He wasn’t usually the extroverted type, especially with Sirius, James and Peter as his best mates so he was surprised that someone like him managed to catch your eye.  

He was perfectly fine with being a silent presence in his close group of friends, appreciating them for their companionship despite knowing of his ‘furry little problem’. He hardly interacted with others outside his small group and preferred it that way. So when you suddenly appeared before him, he didn’t know what to do with you. 

You had a horrible preference for appearing whenever he was reading in the library – something he enjoyed for academic and recreational purposes. James, Sirius and Peter never understood his fondness for reading so left him alone whenever he simply wanted to read. He was more than comfortable with having only himself for company until you started sitting with him. That was how you first got to know each other or, rather, how you made him your ‘friend’ but not by choice. 

“What are you reading there?” your chirpy voice cuts through the silence that first day. Hoping you weren’t talking to him, Remus ignored you and, instead, brought his book closer to shield his face. “Hello?~” you sang softly after a beat of silence and he could hear the smile in your words. Finally, Remus looks up but only spares you a brief once-over. He was being rude, yes, but so were you for interrupting his reading. Remus also couldn’t stand seeing your bright and sunny gaze for longer than he’d be willing to stare directly at the sun. He’s half convinced he’d burn himself if he looked at you too long.

“Frankenstein,” he answers quietly, hoping you’d leave soon enough… but that was wishful thinking on his part. 

“Oh! A muggle book? That’s pretty cool.” there’s a pause after Remus gives an acknowledging grunt but nothing more. Please go away!  He remembers pleading to himself as he tried to find where he last left off – you were too distracting, “May I sit with you?” Remus goes to give you a judging look but you’re already sitting in the seat across from him when he looks up. He glares at your happy disposition, unaffected by his obvious disapproval, much to his irritation. His annoyance flares sharply as he emits a low growl from deep within his chest but there’s no response from you. You’re as immovable as a mountain. He has no choice but to accept his fate and does his best to ignore you in favour of reading. 

However, in doing so, he had deeply underestimated how determined you were to disturb his peace. 

From his periphery, he sees you pausing in your own reading to stare blatantly at him from across the table. Your first few attempts were, somewhat, sneaky but, over time, you eventually gave in to an obnoxious stare. Remus felt like he couldn’t turn a single page without you eyeing his long fingers. Your eyes peek out from over your book and Remus has to fight himself to keep from getting lost in your curious, twinkling eyes. 

“What do you want?” he snaps agitated and suppressing the horrible urge to grind his teeth menacingly at you. A disguised effort to resist your infuriating charms. Someone this annoyingly persistent shouldn’t be so adorable. 

“Sorry, I umm…. I just wanted to know what your Frankenstein book was about…”

You were polite and sweet with the decency to appear, somewhat, ashamed of your behaviour —it was very cute— but that only seemed to rile Remus up even more, “Read it yourself.” he snaps again and continues reading. 

He doesn’t feel bad for snapping at you, which is why he avoids your gaze entirely. In his efforts, he manages to make more progress with reading and doesn’t realise how much time has gone by until the ache in his neck makes him look up and see you asleep atop the table. Rolling his eyes, Remus packs his things and leaves you to return to Gryffindor Tower — he’s not a babysitter so he shouldn’t feel guilty and he shouldn’t look back. But he does alert the librarian about your presence so that she gets you up instead. 

Remus doesn’t see you until a few days later when you happen upon him in the library and disturb his peace once again. When he looks up this time, however, his eyes manage to linger on your smile before you direct his attention to a copy of Frankenstein in your hand. It makes him raise a brown in silent question. 

“I got the book to read as you suggested,” you ramble on more than is necessary. At least your voice isn’t super annoying, it’s actually quite nice to listen to, “I haven’t read much yet but it’s really good so far. It’s not like anything I’ve ever read before. You have a really good taste in books,” by this point, Remus has already buried his attention back into the pages of his current book and tries to zone you out with only minimal success, “May I sit with you?” that question immediately catches his attention and he almost snaps his neck in half, looking up to firmly reject your attempts. 

“No–!” but he was too late as you were already sitting down and smiling innocently from your seat across the table. He frowns deeply and sighs loudly, making his annoyance obvious but you’re unbothered and already have your book open. His eyes narrow, perplexed at how someone can act so brazenly. He notices the stray hair that falls out of place, the slight crookedness of your collar, the focus in your eyes, the softness of your skin and the gentle curve of your face… You’re so annoying! “What edition do you have?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and disinterested as if he couldn’t care less whether you answered him or not. He wasn’t interested at all; he just needed to desperately put an end to his earlier train of thought. Hopefully, your response would irk him again and he could return to being rightfully irritated by you. 

“Oh um…” you flick to the very first page of the book, “I have the 1818 edition, why?” you’re smiling sweetly and he scoffs, turning his head away. His ears had become a bright pink beneath his hair. 

“No reason…” The two of you return to reading your individual books while Remus hopes you don’t register the subconscious hum of approval he let out. He’s only happy you’re reading the original, unrevised version. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

The two of you have become an unusual pair that is often seen around Hogwarts. Many have criticised you for always trailing behind the tall Gryffindor, and despite his cold, impartial disposition towards you, Remus is the first to put an end to such ‘annoying’ talk. 

“Stop talking about things you hardly know anything about,” he would often use his tall height to glare down at those same, clueless people, demeaning them further. And, although that should have been the end of it, many persisted to the point where James, Sirius, and Peter also stepped in when neither of you were around to defend your unusual pairing. 

“Thank you, Remus,” you would chirp at him but receive no response in return. It was odd that, despite his cold shoulder, you persisted. Always wanting to be his friend, always smiling so easily, always greeting him with a friendly tone. It didn’t make sense to him. 

Deep down, Remus wants to keep you. He thinks you are adorable; you are a shining light to a monster like him, and he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Whenever you stand particularly close to him, he savours the warmth you radiate. And whenever you talk, no matter if it is nonsense, he always listens, even if he pretends to ignore you by doing something else entirely. He keeps you at a distance but also wants you close at the same time – he was confusing even himself! 

He was grateful for your consistency, however. Grateful until the week of the full moon. 

You are consistent, and that was something Remus always appreciated about you. But it has become Remus’ main point of irritation for the past few days. Everywhere he looked, you were there, smiling brightly as always, but his sensitive nerves have grown intolerant of you; as soon as he sees you approach, he turns away and hurriedly escapes your company. It scares him to feel so genuinely irritated by you that he doesn’t dare lash out. In the beginning of his friendship with the Marauders, he had lashed out at them too, but their determination for a close bond kept them together. He knows how persistent you can be, but losing you is a thought that makes his blood run cold and leaves an awful taste in his mouth, worse than any potion. 

True to your character, however, you manage to corner him after three days of avoidance, the day the full moon would finally appear in the night sky. It was only a matter of time, but why today of all days? 

“You have the worst timing…” Remus mutters to himself as you innocently tilt your head in question. Usually, as perceptive as he is, Remus would have answered your silent question by now, but he remains silent. The still pause stretches on between you, and Remus uses it as the perfect opportunity to turn away and begin walking off. However, you are adamant about not letting him leave and hug his arm to anchor him down — this is the closest the two of you have ever been. Although Remus never raised a hand at you, his violent flinch to escape your touch makes your heart stop. “Don’t. Touch. Me!” he growls lowly through clenched teeth, his expression making you freeze up. 

“I-I just…” Under his intimidating gaze, you deflate and confess honestly. “I missed you…I haven’t seen you in three days, and you’re my friend. I was really worried. Did I do something wrong?—” 

“If I walk away, then that means I don’t want you anywhere near me!” Remus glares coldly at you, his face crumpled into one that completely replaces his once gentle features. He is unrecognisable. “Leave me alone!” With that, he turns and leaves, a boulder in his stomach and a bitter taste in his mouth, with the still silence ringing in his ears. He needs to get a hold of himself; he can’t believe he lashed out at you like that. Hopefully, you will leave him alone from now on, at least until after he has recovered from his transformation. 

Remus was halfway down the hall when the silence was finally broken by a soft sniffle and a suppressed whimper. He stops completely in his tracks. He dreads turning around, frozen in place in his fear that he had made you cry. The soft footfalls that follow as you walk away prompt him to turn and rush to you, desperate to correct his mistake. 

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, his heart thundering in his chest as he runs to you. It isn’t until he sees your heartbroken expression and the tears falling from your eyes that he drops to his knees and hugs you around the waist, burying his face in your stomach as he repeats his apology over and over. It is overdramatic, in hindsight, but in the moment, he can’t think of any other way to keep you from completely turning away from him. His lycanthropy has taken so many things away from him, and now he is about to lose the one thing he would fall apart without. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean it. Please forgive me, love,” 

Never before had you heard such affection in Remus’ words than in that moment. You don’t know what compelled him to be so incredibly mean, but his softened, pleading eyes, as he looks up from where he presses his cheek against your torso, have your knees weakening. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Ever since that day, Remus was found to be always trailing after you, always touching you and eagerly leaning down to hear you better. He loves peering intimately into your beautiful eyes and getting to smell your sweet fragrance. He now insists that you sit in his lap every time you join him to read in the library together. Feeling you close and getting the chance to hold you in his arms is an addictive feeling that Remus will never tire of. 

“Let me carry that for you, love,” Remus’ soft whisper has you hypnotically handing over your books as heat rises up your neck, “I’ll make you to class, today,”

“You walk me to class every day, Rem,” you giggle and smile as he presses a kiss to your temple and nuzzles your crown affectionately. 

“What about it?” there isn’t a trace of malice in his voice, only warmth. 

“Nothing~” he doesn’t let you go easily. Before you begin walking to class, he holds your chin and tilts it up ever so slightly, guiding your lips to meet his own in a soft kiss. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” his loving eyes and soft words make you melt. You’ve never had a more perfect morning.

“Good morning, Rem,” 

navi. | more remus lupin

a/n : this is dedicated to my darling friend @cheriiepies who's birthday is new years! i hope you enjoy this short imagine/oneshot, my lovely! i just hope i managed to include everything you wanted to me to include. and HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE! I hope you're surrounded by all the love and happiness you deserve on your special day!

[rezwrites]

First I want to say I am obsessed with your Agatha x Reader fics. They give me a lot of joy through my last shitty weeks. I adore you

Second, I have an idea/request so Dark Agatha, who for Reader is just her friendly neighbor, but Agatha has been keeping an eye on Reader since Reader arrived in the neighborhood. One night while Reader was returning from a party and decides to walk home in the middle of the night, Agatha drives her car ‘casually at the same time’ and offers to take Reader at home. Of course, Reader accepts… what could happen?

Dark + jealousy + possessiveness + obsession + dub-con

No pressure. Take your time 

I really glad you like them! Writing them gets me through my shitty days too.

Warnings: +18 MDNI, dub-con, alcohol consumption, fingering

Quite footsteps filled the silent night as you cautiously walked down the sidewalk. The humid air causing your skin to become sticky with sweat. The low rumble of a car engine grew louder as it drove closer. You tensed up hearing the slight squeak of the brakes.

“Dear?” a soft saccharine voice called from behind you. Upon seeing Ms. Harkness peeking her head out her window, you breathed sigh of relief, relaxing. “It’s late. What’s are doing walking about?”

Ms. Harkness has been an angel ever since you moved into the neighborhood. She was always a shoulder to lean on whenever you need it. Never judging, always listening. The most wonderful neighbor you could ask for. Heavy disappointment washed over you for letting her see you this way.

You tried your hardest not to slur your words in front of her, but failed. Even if your words worked you probably looked a mess carrying your shoes, walking without them. “I’..m just walking… home,” You point in the direction of your home.

A deep frown etched in her features as she exited her car, nearing you, “How much have you had to drink?”

“A few..” you trailed off struggling to remember. Cups, glasses, a few shots. There was so much alcohol flowing throughout the night, it was hard to keep track in your addled mind.

“Hun, you’re too drunk to be out here alone. Let’s get you home.” She wrapped her arms around your shoulders, guiding you to the passenger side of her car. Climbing back in her seat Agatha set the air conditioning towards you, making sure you’re comfortable before driving off.

Pulling into the driveway Agatha swiftly came around helping you out of the car. Eyeing the flowerbeds under the windows of the house you realized this wasn’t your house. “This is your house, Ms. Harkness.” You stated, confused.

“Yes, dear. It will be easier for me to take care of you here tonight.” She rubbed your back soothingly as she guided you to the front door, “Besides, how would your family react if you came home in this state?”

She’s right. Your parents- your father, really, would berate you endlessly if you came home this wasted.

Guiding you upstairs she kept a steady hand on your back, patient as you took your time up each step. “I’ll wash your clothes and bring you a fresh pair, honey,” Agatha assured, placing you on her bed. Agatha scurried over to her dresser, bringing back a light hoodie and shorts. Agatha disappeared into the connecting bathroom, you took that time to change. Pulling on the hoodie the soft material on the inside felt like velvet again your skin.

Falling back against the bed you listened to Agatha get closer, collect your clothing, then walk out the room. Hearing her footsteps gradually grow and stop next to you, you have her a bit of insight of tonight, “I thought she liked me, that we had a connection. Only to see her dragging the quarterback upstairs.”

She audibly sighs tucking her arms underneath you, adjusting your body back against the pillows, “See, honey. This is what happens when you mess with girls like that.” She runs her thumb over your eyebrows, smoothing them down.

She hated to watch you fall for girls that lacked any substance. Anger in her eyes every time she saw you with someone who would ultimately break your heart. Agatha always told herself that you needed stable woman, one that can give you structure and support. You needed her. “Perhaps you need to slow down from finding a relationship.”

“Mmm…” The plush bed felt like a cloud underneath you, the faint scent of Agatha’s hoodie comforted you further, “Your bed is so comfortable, Ms. Harkness.”

“I’m sorry about tonight, sweetie.” Agatha pressed herself at your back. She gave you a kiss ghosting the back of your neck, her fingers playing with your sides. The patterns she drew lulled you into a light sleep, not noticing Agatha’s hand had dipped lower. Not until your hips jerked, her digits landing on your clit. Agatha’s serene voice soothed you, “Feels good?”

“…yes..” your body moved on it’s own, seeking Agatha’s touch once more. Her hand went lower, palm now rubbing against your bud. The coil in your lower stomach began to tighten, as Agatha ran her fingertips through the arousal that started to leak from you. Agatha peppered kisses wherever she could reach, sinking two digits into your quivering hole.

The alcohol in your system made you very sensitive, burying your face to stifle your moans. Each trust and rub on your core sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“Not yet,” A groan fell from your lips as Agatha halted her movements, removing her fingers from you, “I want to start the new year off right. Hearing your pretty moans at the stroke of midnight.”

You both laid there for a minute before Agatha plunged two fingers back into your pussy, setting a merciless pace. Using her other hand to hold you still by your hair to prevent you from hiding. Agatha shoved one of her legs between yours using it to spread you open, giving her a deeper access to your needy cunt. Guttural moans ripped from your throat when Agatha curled her fingers in tandem with her thrusts, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

Your whimpers and moans were music to Agatha’s ears. Hot juices coated her fingers creating the squelch that emits around the room. “I know you’re close. Come for me, babygirl.”

“Ah- Agatha!” you cried, shaking in her arms. The coils snapped, shockwaves of intense pleasure reverberated throughout your entire body, reaching every inch of you. Agatha held you tightly fucking you through your orgasm, until you were limp from exhaustion.

“Mine.” Agatha claimed, sucking a deep purple mark on the crook of your neck as you were dragged into a heavy slumber.

[tarnishedxjudgement]

Larsa still felt unmoored, like a ship caught in a storm with no harbor in sight. The steady warmth of Drace's presence gave him a semblance of grounding, though it felt fragile, as if one wrong word might shatter it. If nothing else, they gave him something to focus on, something to hold onto as the world around him tilted on its axis.

“Of course, he knew,” Larsa said, his voice trembling with conviction, though it cracked as he spoke. He sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand as he pulled away just enough to see Drace’s face. “Lord Gramis wasn’t a fool. He must have known. How could he not? His own wife...” His breath hitched, and he shook his head, lips pressing together as if to hold back the tide.

He didn’t finish the thought, but the implication hung in the air, heavy and bitter. His hands clenched into fists against his lap. "Surely... surely he would have known if his wife were unfaithful to him. He would have noticed, wouldn’t he? No man as cunning as he was could be blind to that. No emperor could.”

The words felt like they weren’t his own, like he was parroting someone else’s reasoning. But deep down, Larsa realized, he wanted it to be true. Needed it to be true. It was easier to imagine Lord Gramis as a man who knew and chose to remain silent than as someone ignorant or indifferent to the truth.

He grew quiet after that, staring at the floor as he wrestled with the implications. His voice, when it returned, was softer now, uncertain. “But why?” he asked, looking up at Drace with wide, vulnerable eyes. “Why would my mother do that? Why would an empress—his empress... Betray Lord Gramis like that?”

“What would she even achieve by going after a Judge?” he asked, his voice sharp with confusion and just a touch of desperation.. “What was the point? What could she possibly gain from it?”

His mind supplied bitter possibilities before Drace could answer. Influence? A weapon against Lord Gramis? Or was it simply desire, unmoored from strategy or reason? The very thought made his stomach twist. His mother had been an empress, after all. She was supposed to be beyond such base indulgences.

“And Gabranth,” Larsa continued, his voice rising slightly as the questions gained momentum. “What did he gain? Was it rank? Prestige? A guarantee of favor in Archades?”

Larsa did not expect to be unfrozen at all, let alone in the future. When he had snuck upon Gabranth's ship set for Pharos he did it to ensure the peace would be possible. The last thing he remembered was running towards fallen Gabranth and then... Light. (Marvel AU) - tarnishedxjudgement

@tarnishedxjudgement

Noah didn't have the same abilities and resources in this time period with which to inform himself of anything and everything that was going on around him. He was in the dark, most of the time, unless directly informed of things, a condition he hated. Being at the mercy of others he neither knew nor trusted for information was not a position he usually found himself in.

It was the reason he hadn't known about Drace being found after him until she was brought one day to the training compound. Inexplicably, after executing her in his own timeline, here she was again, seemingly from another. The entire experience was wholly jarring, but not nearly as jarring as losing his only son.

So often had Noah thought of Larsa in the months following his revival in this strange time. Thoughts invaded his peace, his sleep, his ability to function, until he found himself so erratic and unhinged that he did not recognize himself anymore. Even Drace found it difficult to comfort him, and she had always been a master of that feat. There was no closure to be had, no second chances, no going back... and that knowledge was eating Noah alive from the inside out.

But once again, information had been kept from him, and yet another arrival from Ivalice to the Avengers compound was neither expected nor necessarily wanted. Would it be another Dalmascan? Gods forbid a Rozarrian. And the way the people of this time seemed to think that all Ivalicians got along and would be happy to see each other was beyond irritating to him. Nevertheless, when he was specifically summoned to greet this newcomer, Noah begrudgingly left his quarters to do so.

What he saw... stopped him dead in his tracks. Within seconds, his expression betrayed him, and within a few more, he was on his knees, his legs giving way in disbelief of the sight that lay before him. It was little Lord Larsa, looking just as he did when last Noah laid eyes on him, perfect as can be.

He knew he should say something, but words betrayed him as well as his own legs had. Instead, he merely stared, the absence of his helm serving to display to the boy all the shock, confusion, and relief at seeing him standing there. Finally, he forced out the only two words he felt he could say without falling apart.

"My lord..."

[blog-de-una-persona-bi]

Can somebody make a fanfic like this:

Zoro is a famous action actor. He is famous bc of: his green hair, his personality, how he makes his own scenes (like, the dangerous ones),how he looks being 38, and how he is single even tho he is so HOT. He is receiving an interview for his new movie "the word's Best swordman," when the interviewer asks about a certain member of the cast, a woman that everybody thinks he may have a relationship with, bc of how close they are.

(The woman can be Nami or that girl from Wano [I DONT REMEMBER HER NAME, I ALWAYS FORGET ABOUT THIS IDEA AND I NEED TO WRITE IT NOW OR I'LL FORGET IT])

Suddenly, Zoro drops the bomb that he's been married for 20 years with the hottest man he can think of. At first everybody is silent and the interviewer is in shock (interviewer like a night show you know?). And then everybody starts shouting and yelling asking for answers. And they cut it.

Zoro is an old man (more like a...old fashioned person? The thing is that he doesn't like nor understand technology), so he never knew that tiktok or Twitter (or X) thought that he was single, but he loves his husband, they are just more...private, like, they fight and yell at each other in public, but they love each other a lot.

Sanji on the other hand, is a chef that does ice skating as his hobby, he always helps his husband and does have an ig account, but is about his food and his restaurant, his tiktok account is for daily meals, so he never talks about his personal life.

They know each other since they were kids (same school), and they passed through a lot together, like the death of Sanji's mom (Zoro's parents died when he was little, and he was adopted by Mihawk, they lived next to each other's house , so they talked a lot), Kuina's death. When Sanji was locked up in the basement for 8 months till and then Zoro sneak into the vinsmonke's house and found him. When Zeff adopted Sanji (they moved Zoro to the same school). How they became a couple and then married at 18 bc Judge wanted to marry Sanji with Pudding, so they married (Judge had power, he was not locked up).

Their friends know that they live together, but just like 3 of them (Luffy, Nami and Robin) know that they are actually dating, the others think that they are just hooking up or sm. They are all adults and Chopper is the only one that has like 22.

(You can make wathever you want, but if you make luffy w someone let it be Nami or Law, otherwise (and if u CAN dot it like this since I prefer it that way) make him aromantic).

At the end, they are one of the most famous couples in tiktok, and everyone agrees that if Zoro is hot, sanji is HOTTEST (HE AGE LIKE FINE WINE 😭🙌)

Also, I dont mind if you do smut, I JUS LOVE THEM AND WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY, IN MY MIND THEY ARE 😭.

Ik that I have the idea, I JUST CANT WRITE DIALOGUES AND THINGS LIKE THAT 😭

(Also, I'm new in this, how do I change the title of this, like, HOW?!?)

[halitis]

Any thoughts on Roy and Hal?

How they would interact with eachother in Roy's Speedy era?

Hal becoming Roys 2nd Parent?

DO I HAVE THOUGHTS

BOY OH BOY DO I HAVE THOUGHTS. ALWAYS. my two faves :DDD

hal is really quite good with kids! probably one of the best in the league i'd argue. it's because he treats them like independent people with thoughts and feelings. while roy loved that at first, it ended up causing some light strife between the two when ollie started going off travelling. because he HAD enough independence, he didn't want more. he wanted someone there.

while hal and roy are close now, they weren't really close before the events of 'snowbirds dont fly'. hal thought roy was a good kid, with a lot of love in his heart (although, sure a bit rebellious but thats to be expected). hal helping roy out like that, helping to save his life, it really put a foothold into their relationship. hal started to realise what roy needed, was different to what he himself needed as a kid and adjusts accordingly. roy loves it and that hal is willing to put in the work for him.

i, personally, don't see hal as roy's parent. i don't think roy needs or wants another parent, he had brave bow and he has ollie and dinah. that isn't to say they aren't family! i just don't think they have a strict label on what they are to each other, they are just family. if anything though, i'd label them either as cousins or hal as his uncle. (this isn't to say i am judging or whatever if you view hal as roy's father! i do incredibly understand why and i do see the potential).

[continued under the read more]

they Bicker a LOT... but it is how roy shows love. hal was concerned at first because during his speedy era, sure roy would tease but he would never argue with him. it took a bit to realise "oh he's just growing up" (hal went through a brief crisis over that one). now you can find them having pedantic arguments over nothing, and if someone interrupts or tries to stop them; they are just like "???? we weren't fighting ????"

hal and roy ended up bonding over sports, hal would take him out to baseball games because it was An Iconic Part of American Culture and he cannot BELIEVE ollie deprived his son of this (roy could not have given less of a fuck), but he ended up getting really into it. to this day they will call each other just to talk about the teams on for each season. sometimes they will go months without talking, only to message out of the blue going "did you SEE that angels game. what the fuck was that!!?"

hal helped out with lian a bit when she was a baby, he's used to dealing with kids and would babysit her when roy just needed a break. now however, lian doesn't really know him that much. roy wants to try and keep her life as stable as possible and hal isn't around enough for roy to trust him to stay a presence... hal adores lian though, roy will silently send through photos and videos and what not and hal will always compliment her. it's so tragic, and hal really hates it but at the same time he does understand. he would probably do the same in roy's position afterall.

roy looked up to hal so much as a speedy, like that is his dad's cool best friend who has seen SPACE and his entire thing is being FEARLESS omg omg. cue hal being smug about this to ollie, that his son thinks hal is cooler than him. ollie is quick to disabuse this notion to roy, with many mortifying videos of the green lantern. roy never looks at hal the same way again.

hal and roy bond over their complicated relationships with carol and jade, it's a lot of sighing and gossiping. it's not a competition, but roy somehow always wins (hal takes a guilty joy in thinking 'at least i'm not roy'). i think they should get to have a girls night. as a treat. let them do each others hair and watch movies and gossip about girls!

i had more to say abt them, but it's 3am and i am so Bone Tired..... hope this fits what u were looking for op! thanks for the ask MWAAAH!

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

LOOK AT THEM

[spaghett-onaplate]

i'm perusing court listings and the very first case i looked into is multimillion dollar fraud 😭 they can't all be this interesting surely

[hoshigray]

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment. 

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey. 

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.” 

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?” 

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response. 

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates. 

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube. 

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!” 

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes. 

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher. 

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria. 

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ transparent edit made by me + dividers from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[all4yoi]

𝒩ot a bet﹕hyung line

𝑒nhypen x fem!reader ⚹ cw: each member ranges from 5-1k wc, fluff, lowercase intended, they swear, crying, uh someone kneels, not proud w heejake's 😞, not proofread ( lmk if i missed something! )

sypnosis : upon learning that you were merely the stake in a bet, they wasted no time in mending your relationship.

part one !

★ LEE HEESEUNG ( 0.8k wc )

"y/n wait!"

heeseung's voice only made you walk faster. you didn't want to humiliate yourself further by stopping and talking to him. all you wanted to do now was to just march out of the school, go home, lock yourself in your room and maybe eat a tub of ice cream while you ugly cry yourself to sleep.

"y/n, please." heeseung pleaded, taking your elbow in his grasp as he spun you around and pulling you closer to the point you can feel his breath on fanning your nose.

he looked at you pleadingly. "it's okay," you managed to say in a shaky voice. "i understand, you can all laugh at me all you want now-" he shook his head, "it's okay really!" you added, pursing your lips.

"i just want to be left alone now okay?" and even if he knew you didn't mean just 'now.' he'll respect your wishes and let you go, but he won't give up.

heeseung watched you walk away from him with a heavy heart, wanting nothing but to just explain everything to you before it was too late. he couldn't lose you, not like this.

when he couldn't see your figure anymore, he messily messed his hair and made his way back to the gym eager to teach a guy how to not spit nonsense.

it's been a week since that happened and a week since he's seen you in the school. he asked some of your classmates and club members but all he received were nasty glares and short cold answers. what happened between the two of you spread like wild fire the following day you walked away from him. everyone knew you were kind of a nerd, but they also knew you were a complete angel and had a heart soft as a pillow.

they also knew that betting on a person's feeling isn't exactly it. — more under the cut!

so throughout that week too, his popularity decreased day by day. he used to receive heart eyes on the hallways and joyful 'good morning, heeseung!'s by random students, now all he received were judgemental glances and they avoided him like a plague, scared to be the next target of a cruel bet.

he didn't care though, all he cared about was your wellbeing. it's been a week and you've still yet to show up to class, so imagine his surprise when you suddenly walk in to the room with your usual hair do, your bag slung over on your shoulder and your glasses almost falling off your nose bridge.

he sat up straighter, gulping as his eyes followed your every move. he could feel hear heart beating louder, as if it was calling for you, desperate to be near you again.

he needed to fix this, asap.

it felt like forever before heeseung heard the bell ring. as soon as he heard the annoying sound, he messily packed up his things and ran after you.

"y/n!" your forearm was then again grabbed by him. although this time, he turned you slowly. heeseung silently admired your face. he missed you so much.

"let me explain, please. it's not what you think. i promise." he whispered, vulnerability in his tone. the simple nod you gave was his signal to interlace his fingers with yours as he looked for an empty room.

you ignored the looks everyone threw your way, either worried and judging. all you could focus on was his warm hand on yours and how you missed it so much, you didn't even realize you both were now inside an empty classroom.

"there was no bet." you furrowed your brows, looking at him with mixed confusion and frustration. "i promise, there was no bet."

"why would they say that then?"

"i don't know, but i promise there's no bet. throughout the months we've been together everything i've said was real." he said, desperate.

heeseung stepped closer.

"what i felt for you was real," he scrambled to get his phone from his pocket, opening his messages app. "you can go through my phone all you want, ask any of my friends-" you raised a brow.

"not those friends! i mean sunghoon, jay, jungwon.. you know." your raised brow made him sputter. "to be completely honest, they've been ignoring me after they heard about what happened.."

you looked at him hesitantly as you scrolled through his messages with shaking hands. you scrolled for so long, you even reached to the messages months before you both got together.

he didn't have any messages to his basketball team group chat unless it was announcements from his coach. the group chat with his actual friends were only filled with his pining over 'the girl on the back of his biology class.'

"heeseung.."

"there's no bet, baby. i'd never do that to anyone." he whispered, stepping closer. "i can't lose you like this.. i love you."

you sniffled as you came crashing on his chest, letting tears fall again. heeseung immediately wrapped his arms around you, sighing in relief as he finally have you back in his arms.

"i was so worried baby." he mumbled, kissing your head.

"i love you forever. i'll kill everyone who tries to get in between us again," heeseung pulled you closer if it was even possible.

"and if they do, i'll make sure to fix everything even if it means the whole world would hate me."

★ PARK JONGSEONG ( 1.0k wc )

jay was confused.

the both of you had a very well planned date tonight, so he was utterly puzzled to see that you weren't responding to his messages. for heaven's sake, you didn't even read his messages, he was just left in delivered.

he had tried calling multiple times but was only met with your automated voice telling him to leave a voice message. it came to the point that he had enough and decided to drive to your house.

throughout the drive, jay wondered what could've happened. he couldn't think of anything that would make you upset like this, he hoped that you just fell asleep and forgot to have your alarm on.

walking up the porch of your house, jay rang the doorbell and was met with your mom who opened the door with furrowed brows when she laid her eyes on him.

"good afternoon mrs. l/n, is y/n home?" your mother's frown deepened, hesitantly looking at the stairs behind her before looking back at him. "i'm sorry jay, she said she doesn't want to see you?"

that caused jay to furrow his brows as well. "wha- may i ask why?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me." if jay was confused a while ago, he was even more confused now and frustrated.

"can i see her, please?" he pleads, the older woman hesitantly opened the door wider to invite him in, and before he could ascend up the stairs, your mom stopped him.

"jay.." he looked back. "i don't know what happened to you both but take it easy on her, alright? she's been crying, i can tell." jay gulped and only nodded, sending your mom a pursed smile.

he knocked on your bedroom door, when no response came, he tried to turn the knob and was thankful that it wasn't locked.

jay slowly opened your door, seeing you curled on one corner of your bed as your body shook from your sobs you tried to keep silent.

he could feel his heart break at the sight. stepping a foot inside the room, he mentally cursed at himself when he accidentally bumped on to your mirror causing your head to shoot up in alarm at the sound.

your already glassy eyes was once again filled with tears as your eyes met his. jay barely dodged the pillow you threw at him, screaming at him to "go away and never show your face to me again."

jay frowned and came closer until he was sat on the edge of your bed, ignoring the words you just shouted at him.

"baby.. what's- what's wrong?" he asked, attempting to hold your hand but you retracted it and tried to throw another pillow at him. he swiftly caught it and brought it back down gently beside you.

"was it worth the one month of free car wash?" you spat through hiccups. jay stayed silent, confused.

"of course it probably was, that's what you do right?" the sight of your swollen and red face kept breaking his heart, he was still confused on what you were talking about but he'll let you talk.

this way he knew how he'd make things better.

"make me fall in love with you in exchange of a month's free of car wash.." you muttered, your eyes still boring on to his. at your words, it finally clicked. "..am i really worth just that much?" another sob.

right, he had forgotten to end the call when his 'friend' came barging into his apartment. you had probably heard all the nonsense the guy sputtered.. but surely you must've heard the way he defended your relationship and swore at that him too?

"i thought.. high school days were done jay. please just leave me alone now. you got what you want." jay shook his head, coming closer and pulling your body to his.

he wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back as you sobbed hard. he didn't try stopping you when he felt your weak punches that you threw at his chest, his own tears clouding his vision but he didn't dare make them fall.

"you got it all wrong, baby." he whispered, rubbing your nape as your face now rested against the crook of his neck. he ignored the wetness there. "i'm guessing you overheard the conversation with sungjae?"

you nodded, now calmer but not pulling away.

"did you also hear the way i told him to drop the stupid bet he kept insisting to happen? the way i kicked him out of my apartment?" you stayed silent, only sniffling as a response.

jay sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist tighter and pulling you closer.

"the whole campus knows sungjae's an asshole, baby. he was a jerk who thought that being a dick to others were entertaining, and i guess that's why i was like that back in high school.. i wanted to be accepted in their group."

"but we're in college now, i left that group but somehow sungjae's here and is pathetically still stuck in the past." he pulled your face from his neck, cupping your cheek and wiping away your tears.

"i've loved you since high school.. and there's no bet, baby. the moment he had found out i was dating you, he kept bringing up a bet about how long we would last.. but i always shut him out, told him to cut it out and that there will be no bet happening, especially if you're the one getting betted on."

new fresh tears come rolling down your cheek, this time they were tears of relief. glad to know that everything was real, that you weren't just a toy.

"you promise you'll cut him off starting now?" you whispered, looking at him with big glassy eyes.

"i've cut him since high school, y/n. it's him who's keep clinging to me. but i promise he won't be saying anything about the both of us anymore." jay pressed your foreheads together, pressing a soft peck on your lips.

"you will forever be the prettiest and the only one i'll ever love this much in this world, my baby."

★ SIM JAEYUN ( 0.5k wc )

jake watched you run away in confusion, staring at the laughing crowd and turning to look at your locker only to be met with the note he has been telling everyone to throw away.

he angrily took it from your locker, ripping the small paper into pieces. "how many times have i told you to cut this shit out? do you want me to report all of you for harassment and bullying?" he raised his voice at the crowd who had stopped their laughter.

"that's what i thought." he frowned, pushing past them and running after you.

jake knew what everyone was doing the moment it spread that he was dating you. he had received dms telling him he could do better and if he was merely toying with your feelings.

he had told them countless times to drop it, even going far as to almost punch the person who has created the bets if it wasn't for sunoo holding him back. he had hoped that it wouldn't reach you. it was another one of his reasons on why he always went to school earlier, just in case it was placed on your locker. unfortunately, you were earlier than him today.

it's not like he was tolerating it, he had tried countless times to report it but they'd only say it was probably only for fun and he shouldn't take jokes seriously.

but jokes were meant to be funny, right?

jake opened the door that lead to the rooftop slowly, peeking his head to look if you were there. to his luck, you were.

your back faced him while your bag was placed down carelessly beside your feet. jake approached slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you further.

"baby?" he mumbled loud enough for you to hear. you turned your head towards him, showing him your tear stained cheeks. "oh, y/n." he sighed and held your cheeks, wiping away the salty liquid off your precious face.

"jake.. why are you dating me, of all people?" you ask through tears, avoiding his eyes.

jake's eyes softened, he dated you because you were different from everyone who wanted to be like the everyone else, did that make sense? you were your own person, you didn't care about social status, wealth, his circle of friends, and whether someone was good looking or not. you were soft hearted, to the point that you had let others take advantage of that leading them to walking all over you.

and he hated that.

"why not you?" he said softly, tilting your chin up so that you could meet his eyes. "you're everything i've ever needed."

"you can tell the truth." you mutter, looking at jake. his mouth formed a pout, heart broken at the way you had so little love for yourself.

"i am telling the truth, baby." he whispers, taking your hands and placing them on his face before putting his own hands back on yours. "everything is a joke to them when i'm involved." you whisper, ignoring the way your voice broke.

"we don't care about what they think, they're all just jealous. everything we've been through and what i feel for you are real, no jokes." he smiled, pulling you closer to him.

"you promise?"

"baby i'd choose you over anyone in this world over and over again until the heavens above is tired of me."

★ PARK SUNGHOON (0.7k wc)

sunghoon frowned, confused and hurt. he wanted to fix whatever happened, so he took his phone from the couch and his car keys from the wooden bowl in his foyer.

it was when he was in the elevator that he noticed his phone was open. his breath hitched, finally knowing the reason for your departure and choice of words. sunghoon quickly left the group chat and started dialing your number.

it was true that you were a bet. were. he didn't even know why he agreed, maybe because he wanted so badly to fit in. he didn't want a repeat of middle school, so instead of being the bullied and made fun of, he was now the one doing those to others. he wasn't proud of it at the slightest.

that doesn't excuse his actions though. the longer he spent time with you, the deeper he fell. sunghoon never planned for you to find out this way, he already had a plan. first he had to get rid of his 'friends', tell you everything then ask you if you still wanted him to meet your parents.

guilt always ate him alive whenever you would stay over and sleep by his side. he couldn't bring himself to meet your family knowing he hasn't told you everything and the truth.

he felt like his heart would jump out of his chest as he stood infront of the door of your house. if he died tonight on the hands of either your father or older brother, he'd welcome death with open arms.

i deserve it.

he audibly gulped when the door opened, revealing.. you. the way your brows furrowed at the sight of him tightened his chest. he stopped you before you could even close the door on him.

"y/n please, let me explain everything.. o-okay?" the way his voice cracked and the unshed tears in his eyes almost made you give in, but upon remembering what you've read, the anger in you was back.

"explain what?" you spat, turning to look over your shoulder before back at him. "that all those months i've spent loving you," you pointed at him harshly. "was just for entertainment? tell me, what was in it for you, huh?"

sunghoon shook his head, the tears now flowing down his pale cheeks. "no, no! i promise, please i love you." he reached out but you stepped back, biting your lip as you held back the tears.

"just.. leave me alone sunghoon," he felt his heart crack even more. "you've had your fun, you can laugh about i all you want now." you were taken aback when he knelt infront of you, hugging your waist as he sobbed.

"what the-" sunghoon tightened his grip on you, muttering along the words of 'im sorry', 'never meant to be like this', and something along the lines of regretting something.

"sunghoon- oh my god." you groaned as you descended to face him. "please, i didn't mean to. i-" he hiccuped, "i'm sorry, i know it was stupid and there's no reason for me to accept the bet- but i just wanted to fit in. i wanted them to take me as a part of their circle- but, but i soon realized that it was stupid." he looked at you with swollen eyes, desperation swam in his dark irises.

"because i realized that hurting you isn't worth being a part of their asshole group. it started with a bet, i admit, but i truly love you, please believe me." a sob made its way out his throat as he clung into you, his arms circling your neck. "it wasn't a lie whenever i said i'd meet your parents, i was constantly trying to get rid of them first before i met your family, i didn't want to meet them until i've told you the complete truth."

your own tears descended down your cheeks, your heart hurting for yourself and sunghoon. you stayed on the floor wrapped around each other for a moment before you both helped each other up to your feet, he looked at you intensely with red bloodshot eyes. "i'm sorry, i understand if you don't want anything to do with me anymore."

"i understand hoon," you whispered, bringing your hands to cup his face. "but you have to understand too that i can't trust you fully right up again." he nodded, putting his own hands on yours as he kissed your palms.

"i know.. and i'll spent the rest of my life earning it again. i love you."

— ౨ৎ thank u for tuning in ! @j-jinxee @slp23 @unsurereader @heelovesmeknot @sunshine-skz @hoondrop @jooniesbears-blog @jordan1024 @heeswif3y @outroherrr @harufluff @cheeseball0 @yjwluver @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @itjengirl @emiliasstuffs-blog @isa942572 @lufcxx @alienqbrain @woniebae @baekxo07 @titttuaf @chuuswifereal @kyanmeai @isabellah29 @deezbin @skzenhalove @eneiyri @a4ruby @saxytalks @denleave1088 @imdelulu @powerpuffstuts @hoonatic @dollydigital @chososloverfr @dummyf @chanyeolchannie @oddracha @wonwushu @strawberrynull @ceciloveshee @loumin908 @cexg68 @grassbutneo @gardenwons @pag-yerin @bora04 @iluvnikism @jellymiki

— i couldn't tag those who's usernames aren't in bold :(

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

Defy Her

Toxic Sevika x Reader

Summary: Going out without your girlfriend; she hates when she can’t protect you.

Warnings: Sex: ass slapping/gripping, degradation, choking, hair pulling, strap-on, and crying (r! receiving)

A/N: GUESS WHOS OVULATINGGGGG 😛😛😛 I wrote this in 4 hours cus I had a dream abt it. (Don’t ask)

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

Fuck it.

You thought, grabbing your clothes and quickly slipping them on. Black mini skirt with a matching black crop top, your outfit was finished off with a red cropped jacket and a pair of black boots. Hair tied up into a half-up half-down style, you put on your jewelry. Long black necklaces with a few bracelets. Not to forget your dangling earrings, you made sure everything was perfect before grabbing your keys and heading out. You were finally free, able to walk out the door without your girlfriend dragging you back in.

Rule number one: you can’t go out unless Sevika agrees or goes with you.

Bullshit ass rules. They were all made to keep you latched onto your girlfriend, to keep you dependent on her. She didn’t like not being around you to keep everything in-check, make sure no one got too close, and even to prevent you from talking to anyone but her.

Your destination was The Last Drop, where Sevika, you hoped, wouldn’t be. She was probably doing some work for Silco, maybe even with Jinx trying to keep her out of trouble. Either way, you weren’t having her shit anymore. So, with a confident push on the doors, you enter the bar. You were immediately met with a crowd of people who were dancing, drinking, making out, and, most importantly, having fun.

Making your way to the bar to grab a few drinks, you looked around to find you being stared at. Up and down, either checking you out or judging you.

You decided to ignore them and sat on a stool, ordered yourself a sweet treat, and tried to forget about Sevika; for now. You ordered lemonade, getting drunk wasn’t on your list. The place was dimly lit with the telbum lights brightened it up with colourful lights. The speaker blasted upbeat music, causing everyone to dance, you silently admired the way the crowd was able to be carefree and loose. As excited you were to have some freedom, your main concern was if Sevika would find you and drag you home. Maybe yell at you or something.

Something would be fucking you senseless.

Though it wasn’t a bad idea, it sure scared you to see her angry. Ripping you open and making sure you were twitching after the first few rounds.

Sipping on your drink, you turn your attention to the man who was now shifting to sit beside you. He looked friendly enough, even though he was staring you down with those black eyes of his.

“Saw you come in, wanna dance?” His voice smooth even though it held a hint of nervousness. Hale leaned closer to you with his drunken breath. For a second you considered his invitation, dancing would be nice. But with a stranger?— who was probably just trying to get in your pants?. It felt like going behind Sevika’s back.

“I uhm.. I’m alright..” Forcing a smile, you turn your head to your drink. Your answer was simple and sweet, you hoped he’d take it and leave. At the corner of your eye, you saw him scoff. “C’mon, it’s just dancing?”

Was he fuckin’ stupid? “I said I’m good.” Was your response. You’d learned that from Sevika. Thankfully, you he fucked off. With a grumble under his breath, he walked away with heavy steps. You, yourself, grumble to yourself in annoyance before taking a few big sips and finishing your drink. Could a gal really not enjoy one night alone?

Maybe the night would be more enjoyable with Sevika. Having her glare away any men, letting you dance as you pleased? It was a nice thought. Even if she’d hover and fuss over a simple glance, you secretly wanted her to be there now.

May the universe heard your wish because as you were about to get up, you felt a tug around your waist before you were pulled against someone. “The hell are you doing here?” The familiar gruffed out words hit your ears and you realized it was your girlfriend. Her flesh arm around your waist, she tightened her grip which let you know she was upset. Maybe even pissed. “How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to come here alone? You deaf or something?” Sevika would groan out, her voice raising and tense. “I can handle myself, I don’t need you all the time.”

You guessed she didn’t like that answer because as her prosthetic arm hit the wooden counter with a fist she scoffed. “Don’t fuck around with me. God knows how many assholes are waiting to push a stick up your ass.” With that, she turned you around and gripped your wrist. “We’re goin’ home. End of discussion.” You clearly couldn’t say no to that, to her authoritative tone. She’d drag you home whether you liked it or not, pull you over her shoulder with her muscular arms and force you with her. Mumbling under your breath, you let her lead you away towards the exit.

An hour of freedom was all you got.

Reaching your shared apartment, Sevika locked the door behind you with a slam. Her expression irritated, she didn’t let go of your wrist. “I don’t even get to do anything. I barely go out by myself.” — “For a god damn reason.” She shot back, towering over you and making you have to look up. “I saw the way those ‘fuckers looked at you, as if you were some piece of meat.” Of course she noticed, that’s all she did. Look around and force everyone to look away. “I can’t help that? You were looking at me the same way when we started dating!” Raising your voice was a bad idea, the way Sevika’s grey eyes glared at you made you quickly fix yourself. “You’re mine. Got that? I do what the hell I want with you, no one else.” Tugging on your wrist she pulled you closer and gripped onto your hair with her mech hand. “Even lookin’ at you is a privilege.” Gasping at the tug on your hair, you let slip a shaky moan.

Her voice was low, dangerously quiet, as she leaned down to crash her lips against yours. Sucking on your bottom lip, Sevika bit down until you were sure they were bleed. Tilting your head back with her grip from your hair, her flesh arm came around to grip your ass and pull your body flush against her tense one.

If Sevika couldn’t keep everyone away from you, she would just have to keep you locked up and all to herself.

Soft whimpers left your lips as she kissed you deeply, tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. Tasting you, she found it satisfying to see you breathless and, already, vulnerable . Pulling back to see your red cheeks, she took hold of your face, squishing your cheeks together, and smirked with cockiness. “Fuckin’ whore.” Was all Sevika said before raising you and carrying you towards the bedroom. Her muscular arms then threw you— yes, threw you— onto the bed. Grunting, you give her furrowing brows. “Quit doing that, what if I hit my head?” Sevika only chuckled as she grabbed her strap. It was the largest one she had, one you could barely take halfway.

Approaching you, she tossed it beside you before ripping your clothes off. “Surprised you care more about bumpin’ your head on a wall than me ruining that hole of yours.” Voice unserious as she had you bare and on your back. “You couldn’t give a damn about the way I stretch-out your cunt. Want it so ruined I need a bigger one’a these.” Motioning to the strap, she crawled onto the bed and sitting infront of you and pulled you by your wrists. She turned you around to positionyour back to her front and your ass to her strap. Face burried your freshly done hair, she took a deep inhale. Both of you were on your knees with heavy breaths. You knew where this was headed.

With her flesh hand on your clit, she rubbed it to get the desired reaction. She succeeded when you couldn’t help but softly sigh at the teasing motion. One finger was enough to cover your bud, that’s just how big her hand was. And she took advantage of it every single time. With a bite on the back of your shoulder, she pushed her cock inside and kept it there for a good second. It was the first time she’d went all in. It left you to gasp and whimper. “Since I haven’t made myself direct with what I want, let me show you.” You braced yourself as you held your breath, heart pounding in your chest as she pinched your clit. A soft “fuck..” left your lips. “Don’t.” A hard pound hit your cunt. “Go.” Another hard pound hit with a grunt. “Out. The third pound went deeper than the first two. “Without.” You were still adjusting to the thickness when the blow hit, it caused a shaky moan to escape your lips.. “Permission.” With the last pound, she grasped onto your neck and squeezed enough to where it was hard to breathe. You could feel the pressure as your face went warm, you were red. “Got that, you dirty whore?”

Slamming into you, she went all the way in and made sure you were feeling all of it. Head tilted back with the help of Sevika’s grip, your back arched into her cock as she rubbed it against your walls. She was enjoying this, punishing you for being stubborn enough to go against her rules. “Look at you, already a slutty mess.” She was taking her anger out on you, “Tell me how much you want this cock. And don’t cum ‘til I fuckin’ tell you.” The sound of her strap making contact with your cunt was all that you could hear, all that could focus on. Phwap Phwap Phwap. You were fucking loving this.

“Sev, Baby..” You said shakily, “Don’t stop— fuckkkk, please.. it’s too good..” Your voice was strained from the grip around your neck, even moaning was difficult. “I.. I’m close.. it’s too much— it’s too fucking good.” Practically pleading your words out, you kept still for your girlfriend as she pushed into you. “Already? Can’t even last a few minutes.” Tugging at your hair and letting go of your neck, she pushed your face into the sheets and gave you the ‘back-shots’ you deserved. Head tilted to the side, you could barely handle her. “Sevika— baby, I.. I want you— holy—make me cum…” Words a breathy moan, you groan out at every sensation that rose from your drenched pussy. Sevika’s flesh hand came to play with your pulsing clit, pinching and rubbing it like some toy. “Yeah?.. you want me, baby? You want me like the little slut y’are?” Hips rolling deep blows into your cunt, you were holding on for life. Hands gripping the sheets in order to ground yourself as you bit onto your lip, causing them to swell up.

Sevika fucked you like a sex toy, never slowing her pace and hitting all the juicy spots that got you crying out. Tears ran down your mascara smeared cheeks from the overwhelming pleasure. Your girlfriend didn’t seem to care over your sobbing, because she only grew rougher. Evident in the way she slapped your ass multiple times with her heavy hands and left behind red handprints. You whined everytime. “Hope you’ve got your shit together, ‘cause you were a dumbass for going to that shitty bar without me.” Legs twitching, your voice was beginning to strain from all the moaning you were doing. All the humms and whimpers were getting to you. “I’m close.. please— please I need you..” You’d breath out, shutting your eyes and letting every sensation soak in. “I’ll.. I’ll listen— please, baby I won’t.. won’t go out. Alright?” You were desperate for the orgasm pooling in your core, which needed to escape. Even your voice was cracking, from, both, moaning so much and and crying. “Let me cum, I.. I can’t hold it in..” Sevika, as usual, was memorizing ever moan, ever twitch, and every reaction that you gave. The slight tremble in your hands, the quiet whimpers you let out at every touch, and the heavy breathing. She loved it all.

“Cum for me, baby.” Was your girlfriend’s ‘yes’. And cum you did. Closing your legs you fell onto your chest and cried out at the intensity of the pressure your body was releasing. Hips writhing, legs shaking , and body heating up, your face was burried into cool sheets as you whimpered from the aftermath. “I just fucked the prettiest slut in Zaun.” Sevika proudly gruffed out, slapping your ass as she lowered herself. Knees on either side of the back of your thigh she brushed your soft hair aside before pressing hot kisses on your back, her strap rubbing against your back as she did so. Coming back from your orgasm, you collect your breath. “So.. you know other.. pretty sluts?” You murmured, eyes fluttering with the softness of her lips. Sevika only chuckled with amusement. “No, I don’t. Even if I did, you’d be the only slut I’d wanna see like this.” Her words a heartfelt scoff as she rubbed soothing circles on your back with her big palms.

“I’m still mad at you.” Sevika brought up, lips grazing the back of your neck before she bit down and claimed you. “I know..”— “Don’t do that shit again. Next time I won’t fuck you like this.” You knew what that meant.

Before, when the two of you started dating, she’d often ignore you, make you feel like shit, everytime you disobeyed her. But, luckily, communication helped and she stopped. But, would she really do it again? Start ignoring you?

“Don’t..” You whispered out, opening your heavy eyes as Sevika bit around your body. Shoulder, neck, arms, she wanted to mark you everywhere. You could only hold your breath when she did so, giving her the chance to do whatever she needed. “I don’t want you to ignore me..” And maybe your words sounded too.. sombre because, afterwards, Sevika pulled back and cleared your face from any strands of your disheveled hair and met your eyes. Her gaze stared into yours as she ran her hand over your flushed cheek and wiped off your smeared mascara. “You already told me not to.” Tone softened, she shifted to kiss your reddened lips. “I listen, unlike your stubborn ass.” You scoff at her response, “I do listen! You just make it hard to.”

With your sassy response, she laid down beside you and took off her strap. Throwing it somewhere onto the floor bedroom her mech arm came to wrap around your body. With another press on your lips, that you reciprocated with, she smirked out a soft…

“I’m pretty confident whatever I say is right.”— “Yeah, sure.” You shot back, grinning at her silent forgiveness.

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[amirasainz]

landos little sister is super shy and does get along with the drivers but she likes to just cling to lando the entire time which he loves but oscar. she meets oscar and suddenly she has a favorite driver that’s not lando and lets oscar hold her and spend time with her. lando is not even mad because his sister’s personality is so much like oscar he knew she would love him. the others drivers are pouting

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 🧡

A Silent Connection

Yn had never been one for the spotlight, much like her brother Lando. While he thrived in the chaos of the Formula 1 world, cracking jokes and charming everyone around him, Yn was content to sit in the background, quietly observing, far more interested in watching the cars roar past than in the whirlwind of media, fans, and endless chatter.

She’d always been a little shy, a bit introverted. As a result, the paddock felt like an overwhelming place to be. She only had one person to lean on: Lando. He was her anchor. They’d grown up together, and even though they’d both grown up in the fast-paced world of racing, Lando was the only person Yn felt truly at ease with. So, when he invited her to spend time at a Grand Prix, she didn’t hesitate. It was easier for her to be around familiar faces, the ones who understood her need for space.

However, this particular weekend at the Italian Grand Prix in Monza, things were about to change in the most unexpected way.

---

It was a quiet morning at the paddock. Lando had gone off for a meeting with his engineers, leaving Yn alone on the couch in the McLaren hospitality area. She was sipping her coffee, gazing at the monitors around her that showed various bits of the weekend's events. The usual buzz of the paddock filled the air — the low hum of mechanics working on cars, the excited chatter of team members — but to Yn, it felt like all of that noise was in the background, fading into nothingness.

She had found a corner to nestle into, out of sight, where she could drink her coffee in peace. She’d done this countless times, sitting quietly and observing her brother’s world from a distance. But today, she wasn’t the only one sitting in the corner.

The door to the lounge opened quietly, and someone walked in. Yn glanced up to find Oscar, the young Australian driver, who had just joined McLaren that year. He looked around for a seat and, seeing the empty space next to Yn, he slid into the couch next to her without a word.

Yn, startled by his sudden presence, looked over at him. He was sipping his own coffee, staring blankly ahead at the monitors, his usual calm demeanor settling around him. She didn’t mind the silence. In fact, she liked it. There was no pressure to talk, no need for awkward small talk. Just the comfortable sound of people moving around them, the occasional chuckle of engineers, and the faint noise from the track outside.

Oscar, sensing her gaze, gave her a brief, polite smile. She smiled back shyly but didn’t say anything. He seemed to understand that she wasn’t much for words, and he didn’t push.

For the next hour, they sat there in perfect silence, each with their coffee, neither of them feeling the need to fill the air with conversation. For the first time in a long while, Yn felt a sense of peace. She didn’t feel judged or expected to speak. She could just… exist.

The moment was simple but profound, and it became something they both began to look forward to. Every time Yn visited the paddock in the following weeks, Oscar was there. It became their routine: he would quietly enter, glance at her, and then take a seat beside her. They would drink their coffee in silence, occasionally exchanging a nod or a smile, but mostly just enjoying the calm company.

---

It wasn’t long before Lando noticed the change in his sister. While Yn had always been content to stick by his side, she was beginning to spend more time in the lounge with Oscar. At first, he’d assumed it was just a coincidence, maybe they were talking strategy or something related to the racing side of things. But then he saw it for himself one day — the two of them sitting there together, silently enjoying their drinks, looking comfortable in each other’s company.

“You’re spending a lot of time with Oscar lately,” Lando remarked one day, raising an eyebrow as he slid into the seat across from Yn and Oscar.

Yn’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she only shrugged, her usual reserved nature still evident. “He’s… nice to be around,” she said quietly, looking down at her coffee cup.

Lando chuckled, not surprised by his sister’s understated response. He knew Yn well enough to know that “nice” was about as much as she’d give away. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he was happy. Yn had always been so shy around everyone, and now she had found someone she could spend time with without feeling pressured. He had always wanted her to feel more comfortable in the paddock, and Oscar was a good friend — even if he wasn’t the most extroverted person, either.

Oscar, sitting beside Yn, shot Lando a casual smile. “We don’t talk much, but she’s good company. It’s… easy to be around her.”

Lando grinned. “I’m glad to hear that, mate. You’re welcome to hang out with her whenever you want. Just don’t steal her away from me completely.”

Yn’s face flushed again, but she didn’t say anything. She liked how easy it was to be with Oscar. Unlike the other drivers who constantly tried to engage her in conversation or expect her to join in their chaotic paddock discussions, Oscar didn’t push. He never tried to draw her out of her shell, never made her feel like she had to talk. He simply existed in the same space as her, and that was all she needed.

---

As the weeks went on, the friendship between Oscar and Yn grew. It wasn’t loud or attention-grabbing, but it was real. Whenever she had a free moment, Yn would be found with Oscar, sitting side by side, watching the monitors or sipping on their coffees in the lounge. It was a quiet companionship that seemed to suit them both perfectly.

Oscar, who had always been a bit reserved, found himself becoming more outgoing around Yn. It wasn’t that she asked him to, but somehow, his presence around her made him feel more comfortable, more willing to open up. It wasn’t like he was suddenly a social butterfly, but he’d start offering her small bits of conversation, teasing her gently, and making her smile. She didn’t feel like she had to respond, but she appreciated it all the same.

“You’re not as quiet as you used to be,” Lando said one day, his grin wide as he watched Oscar try to make his sister laugh.

Oscar shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe I’m just getting used to the silence,” he said with a grin. “It’s nice.”

Yn, for her part, didn’t mind it at all. She liked how Oscar had become a bit more expressive for her. It was like he had learned how to communicate in the way she preferred — without overwhelming her with noise or pressure.

---

The other drivers began to notice the growing bond between Oscar and Yn. They couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous, especially since Yn rarely spoke to them. Even the more talkative ones, like Max and Charles, found it a little odd that she seemed to reserve her energy for Oscar. It was clear that they were becoming friends, and the rest of the paddock wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Have you noticed how quiet she is around us?” Max asked Charles one day, watching from the sidelines as Oscar and Yn exchanged a few words before falling back into their familiar silence.

Charles nodded. “Yeah, it’s like she only talks to Oscar now. It’s… strange.”

Lando, overhearing their conversation, couldn’t help but laugh. “Relax, guys. She’s not interested in being the life of the party. She’s got her own thing going with Oscar, and that’s cool with me. I’m just happy she’s found someone she can be herself around.”

Max and Charles exchanged glances. Maybe they were just a little envious that Yn, usually so shy, had managed to form such a quiet but solid bond with someone. But Lando was right — it wasn’t about stealing attention. It was about finding peace.

---

In the months that followed, Oscar and Yn continued to sit in their corner of the paddock, side by side, silent but comfortable. Lando was happy that his sister had found someone who understood her, and the drivers, while a little envious, began to understand the unspoken connection between the two.

It was simple. It was quiet. But for Yn and Oscar, it was exactly what they both needed.

[aciddrattboyy]

(dont) kiss me thru the phone

you were pissed that your boyfriend cheated on you and then had the audacity to ghost you after you confronted him about it. what better way to get that anger out than fucking his best friend

suna x f!reader ☆ smut ☆ 2.3k cw: fingering, dirty talk(?), penetration, cheating(?), cucking, phone sex(?), exhibitionism(?) a/n: all those damn question marks bc i cant tell if it would technically count anywho i dont condone cheating but like if someone told me they fucked their cheating bf's bsf i wouldnt judge also sorry for the osamu slander i was never a big fan of the miya twins bc i was too focused on suna so im sorry if i offend any miya stans </3

☆

you were pissed. you were beyond pissed actually. yeah, you were sad of course when you found out your boyfriend osamu had been cheating on you with some cheerleader from a neighboring college. but you were furious now that osamu had decided to ghost you after telling him you wanted to talk it out. it was pathetic and you were utterly offended. you were also upset with yourself, having not been able to see any signs that you had been dating scum of the earth. 

you know you couldve been the one to take the higher ground. just take his disappearance as the breakup and try to move on with the help of the people in your life that actually cared about you. but you just couldnt. he went low and you wanted to go much much lower. 

knock knock knock 

standing outside of suna’s townhome, you were growing a little nervous. there was a chance suna would push you away and go inform your cheating now ex-boyfriend. but you’ve seen the way suna looked at you. you weren’t stupid. everytime osamu dragged you to parties or hangouts with his friends suna always looked at you like he was fucking you with his eyes. you stood there, hands shoved in the pockets of your pajama pants as the cold night breeze swept over you. 

your body stilled when he opened the door, bare torso on display while a pair of grey shorts hung loosely at his hips. you could smell the faint scent of weed seeping out of his house. his hair was messy in the best way, green eyes narrowed at you slightly. you couldnt deny that he was attractive. but when you were still a loyal and doting girlfriend, no one else seemed as hot as your boyfriend. but things were different now. 

“hello?” sunas tone was indifferent, a bit raspy from whenever he was smoking. he craned his neck for just a moment, seeing if osamu was trailing behind somewhere. 

“suna i know you want to fuck me,” you blurted out, earning equally wide eyes from the man before you. he choked on his own spit, turning his head as he coughed. your face felt like it was on fire and for a second you regretted ever coming here. “im sorry i-” he was quick to put up a finger, silently telling you to wait as he got himself together. clearing his throat, suna stood up a bit taller with skepticism written all over his face. his eyes once again scanned over the area.

“are you confronting me?” suna had absolutely no clue what was going on. he half expected osamu to jump out of the bushes and knock him up just for not denying it. but he would be a liar if he did. it was true. he did want to fuck you and knew he could do so much better than osamu. but of course he didnt make any moves with the bro-code and all. 

“no im not,” you shook your head, sucking in a deep breath to try to calm yourself. “i have a um… proposal,” suna’s eyebrows quirked, the corners of his lips tugging into an intrigued smile. he crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe. 

“well,” you grew self conscious now, rocking back on your heels as you stared at the doormat. “osamu cheated on me and is now ghosting me after i asked to talk about it and to be honest im really pissed,” suna had to manually keep his features stoic even though he was feeling a whirlwind of emotions. he was sad for you of course, no one wants to get cheated on. he was mad at osamu for cheating on someone like you. but there was also this sick sense of pride, that you came to him. suna always knew he could be better for you and now you were at his doorway. you took in another deep breath, getting ready to spew out the words before you could take them back. “i want you to call osamu because i think he’ll pick up… and if he does,” you took a hand out of your pocket, nervously running it through your hair. “if he does i’ll let you fuck me,” 

the silence seemed to drag on forever. after your word vomit both you and suna had to take a moment to process the words you just said. you looked at sunas ever bland face and had no way of knowing what he was thinking. 

“so,” suna started, not able to hide the smug smile on his face. “you want me to fuck you with osamu on the phone?” he watched as you nodded slowly and could feel his dick twitch in his shorts at the thought. he would effectively being ending their friendship if he did that and maybe others. but the thought of being inside you was oh so enticing. “thats a little kinky dont you think,” sunas smile only grew when he saw how flustered you were getting. it was almost hard to believe you came up with that idea.

“will you do it yes or no?” you asked instead of answering his question. because he was right. it did sound a bit kinky and you didnt feel like trying to make sense of it right now. suna did use words to answer, instead pushing off of the doorframe and motioning for you to head in. letting out a shuddery breath, you walked in. your heart was beating like crazy when suna closed the door behind you, turning on a warm lamp before flopping onto the couch. you took off your shoes, awkwardly standing by the doorway. 

“so run this little plan of yours by me one more time,” he patted his hand on the cushion next to him, watching you with now hungry eyes. you sat on the edge of the couch, hands in your lap as you laid it all out on him. you wanted suna to call osamu and tell him he was fucking some random girl. you wanted to know if osamu would stay on the line. you wanted to know if he had any remorse for what he had done to you. you told suna you didnt want him to reveal it was you. that you would do the honors when you were ready. suna listened patiently, nodding along as the tent in his shorts grew with each word that left your pretty lips. “well if you want to do this we cant exactly fuck with you on the other side of the couch,” 

excitement and anxiousness coursed through your veins when suna motioned for you to come sit on his lap. he wasnt trying to hide the obvious bulge in his shorts now and the size of it made you just a bit nervous. you straddled his lap with a shaky breath, looking down between the two of you as he called osamu. he put the phone on speaker, turning the volume all the way up and tossing it onto the cushion next to him. 

his hands found their way to your hips as you both waited for osamu to answer, sliding them up and down your sides. 

“hey whats up?” 

your breath hitched in your throat when you heard his voice. anger once again rising up over the fact that he was going out of his way to ghost you but picked up the phone for his friend almost instantly. 

“not much, got a pretty girl in my lap right now,” sunas tone made your body feel warm all over. he got bolder with his touches, his fingers playing with the hem of your loose fitting shirt. “said she was a freak ‘n wanted me to call you so you could listen,” 

the laugh osamu let out was evil. you both could hear shuffling on his end while sunas hands moved further up. 

“no shit really?”

you licked your now dry lips as suna slowly pulled your top off, a low whistling leaving his mouth as he eyed your boobs. he was quick to grab at them. one hand groping one boob softly while the other pulled and pinched at your nipple. 

“yes really, shes got pretty tits,” he was quick to suck your now hardened nipple in his mouth, hips jerking under you. your breath grew ragged as you fought to stay quiet. you wanted osamu to hear you but you didnt want to be loud enough for him to know it was you just yet. he pulled off of your now wet nipple with a soft ‘pop’, his hands traveling down to grope your ass. “nice ass too,” he mused softly, looking at you with mischievous eyes as he grabbed onto the back of your thighs and gently laid you onto the couch. 

you looked up at him with wide eyes, bottom lip caught between your teeth as he slipped your pajama bottoms off. something flashed in his eyes when he saw the pretty lace panties you had on. he wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you but he decided against it for now. 

“how wet is she,” 

“ ‘m about to find out,” your face cringed at osamus words for just a second. because in the next, suna was smiling at you wickedly while he pulled your panties to the side. a low groan left sunas chest as he slid a finger over your already glistening folds. for a second, he forgot all about your plan, looking up at you with wide, lust filled eyes. “holy fuck youre soaked,” you turned your head away, face growing hot with embarrassment. but suna was quick to gently grab your chin, turning your face towards him once again. “keep your eyes on me,” he said softly, licking his lips as he lightly pressed his finger onto your clit. 

the sound of shuffling on the other line was what brought suna back to the present and for a moment he felt a bit possessive, suddenly not wanting osamu to listen in anymore like a pervert. but he continued to play along.

“shes fucking beggin’ for it,” he said moreso to osamu as he slowly pushed a finger inside you. a soft hiss left his lips when he felt how tight you were, already clenching around him so well even if it was just one finger. at this point osamu wasn’t responding with words, his heavy breaths the only thing that could be heard. suna shrugged after a moment of waiting for a response, pressing a second finger inside your walls. you whined softly, eyelids fluttering as your hips twitched against him. he continued to work his fingers inside you, thumb rubbing over your clit in soft circles as the sounds of him fucking you with his fingers grew louder. 

“oh fuck i can hear her,” 

osamus voice was strained, no doubt affected by what he could hear over the phone. he was no doubt referring to the obscene noises coming from your dripping cunt while suna fucked his fingers into you. 

soft whines and heavy pants were all you could manage out, afraid of giving it away too soon. your hips bucked up towards sunas hand as he worked you closer to an orgasm. his dick was straining uncomfortably against his shorts and he was growing impatient. “shes about to cum all over my hand,” suna breathed out, it was getting hard for him to pretend he was enjoying transcribing what he was doing to his cheating friend. he didnt even know if he could call osamu a friend anymore. there was silence on the other end and suna’s brows furrowed when he thought he heard osamu moan. 

this was becoming harder for you to keep up, thighs trembling as you got closer and closer to release. you swore you were going to chew off your lip with how hard you were biting it. your eyes were screwed shut, hands clamping onto the couch and sunas arm. when he brought his thumb up to your clit, rubbing tight circles and pressing into it, it didnt long for you to come undone around him, a strangled moan escaping you as your back arched off of the couch. 

“fuck she sounds hot,” 

“she is,” that flash of possessiveness punched through suna again as he continued to slowly fuck you through your orgasm. something snapped in suna when he could hear what could be nothing other than osamu jacking off. he hastily pulled his cock out of his shorts, laying your thighs over his. his breath was ragged at he ran his tip over your slit, a groan leaving his chest when he nudged at yout fluttering hole. you whimpered, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth. 

suna was growing frustrated with each noise you suppressed, he desperately wanted to hear you. wanted to hear you get fucked on his dick. he grabbed onto your hips roughly, pushing inside you with a shaky moan. fortunately for him, you were also growing tired of forcing yourself to stay quiet. you wrapped your arms around sunas neck, pulling him flush against you. both of you moaned when he bottomed up and finally being able to hear you almost made suna cum right then. 

but osamu ruined it, letting out a loud moan through the phone. suna, who had finally had enough, sat up and grabbed his phone. 

“i’m fucking your girlfriend,”

“wait wha-” 

he hung up, tossing the phone to the side and looking back at you. your eyes were wide as you watched, cunt still clenching around him. suna put his hands on your hips, pulling out slowly before slamming back in, earning a loud cry from you. 

“fuck- ‘m glad thats over with,” he began rocking into you slowly, eyes glued onto the sight of his dick disappearing inside you. “now i can hear all your pretty noises,”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Part 2:

Thinking Simon is asleep when he isn't. Or so he says. Case in point: Simon in all his cattiness made you his pillow. Your nails were working miracles scratching along his scalp which had him dozing off and lightly snoring. Or so you thought. You heard him grumble, "Why'd you stop, luvie?" when you moved your hand. He'll deny he was asleep, too, like the peepaw that he is.

To piggyback off the first point, Simon will sometimes quietly grab your hand and put it back on his head if you stop scratching his scalp. If you stop a second time, he will have experienced a betrayal man and cat were never supposed to know, and it's Affection Denied™ for the rest of the day lmao.

Texting each other when you're in two separate rooms because you don't feel like talking out loud. Sometimes, you'll text him some crazy shit that'll warrant him leaving the room he was in to silently judge you.

Absolutely loving to watch him shave in the morning because Simon is so sexy when he's concentrating, eyebrows furrowed, and those brown eyes staring intensely in the mirror.

You and Simon shit-talking each other in bed because you'll complain about being hot with the covers and cuddle pile you two have going on but never really doing anything to change it. You two actually can't get a good night's sleep without being up under the other.

Simon banning you from watching horror films because, for the hundredth bloody time, he didn't hear shit, love. He actually did and it was the neighbors but he can't be arsed to get out of bed.

Speaking of neighbors, it's you and Simon lying in bed, listening to the neighbors make sex and when it's done, Simon goes, "Mm. A new record," and he sounds so unimpressed which causes you to guffaw. Oh my fucking god—

Getting in the dog house with Simon because when your hands are cold, you stick them down in his pants to rest on his thighs because it's hilarious to see him jump and that's what he gets for not turning the heat up. Simon counterargues that he did turn it up. Three degrees.

Introducing Simon to the wonders of Spa Day at home because his skin needs some TLC. Simon looking like someone's stressed auntie with a ciggie dangling from his lips, wearing a really comfortable bathrobe you got him, and eye masks on.

You two treating it like the end of the world whenever one of y'all gets sick (Simon to a lesser extent) because how in the hell will you get your daily dose of affection?

Going all out and having a whole-ass reveal party for your newest edition to the family, Pup. You gave the boys shirts to wear in celebration. You wore Dad, Simon wore... Mom????, Kyle got Uncle, Soap got... Big Brother??? and Price got... Grandfather. Grand. Father. "Congrats, Cap'n." "Shut up."

Pranking Simon by calling him some random guy's name just to see his reaction. Simon stops what he's doing, judges you in Ghost, and goes, "Who the fuck is Anthony?" After that, it's on sight for Anthony. Whoever the fuck that is. Simon gets you back, though, and he's all, "Ask Anthony" "Oh? You love Anthony, too?" "Sorry sweetheart, Simon is taken. Better go to Anthony." Real funny, asshole.

Simon thinking you're about to go down on him. Not the way he thinks, though. You've situated yourself between his thighs, put his legs on your shoulders, and lower your head to... blow raspberries in his tummy. Like... whole-ass tunes. The disappointment on his face is immeasurable. But then you have him chuckling because you're fuckin' adorable looking up at him like that and your raspberries are ticklish.

[skzdarlings]

the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted.  “My husband isn’t coming for me.” 

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand.  You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.    

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer.  The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone. 

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return. 

Hyunjin was quiet on the call.  Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation.  When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster. 

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business.  He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family.  Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle. 

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you.  When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties. 

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld.  The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved.  Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.    

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call.  Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance.  He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.       

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call.  You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned.   At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster.  You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport. 

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes.  They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown. 

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst. 

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said.   He ended the call seconds later.    

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says.  He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife.  It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat.  “Or else.” 

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim.  “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening.  They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds. 

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth.  Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you.  He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental.  There is a professional distance between you.  His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business. 

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity.  He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies.  He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind. 

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you.  You often catch him staring.  He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up.  His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions.  You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter.   He seems more than content to listen.  He remembers everything too. 

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else.  He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away.  He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon.  He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card.  It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship.  You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations.  There would be consequences if the marriage fell through.  You would be blamed, not him.  Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him. 

He politely rejected you at every turn. 

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job.  It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse.  You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom.  You could hear him cursing above the running water. 

You only meant to peek.  The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over. 

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder.  There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars. 

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty.  His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain.  Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head. 

He froze at the sound of your gasp.  His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair.  They captured yours.   

You held your breath. 

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face.  He looked in the mirror and sighed.    

“You can come in,” he said.   “This is your home too.” 

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through.  Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder.  You could see the wound was a thin stripe.  It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.    

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering.   You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start.  You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut. 

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact.  You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror.  You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever. 

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection.   “You – you have people to protect you.”  You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face. 

“I do,” he said.  “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.” 

This did not surprise you to hear.   It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people.  It is a fact known to few.  It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him.  He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private. 

You have never known another man like him.  Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you. 

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others.  If something happened to him, what would become of you?  Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter?  This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin.  This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless. 

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder. 

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke.  “Please make sure you always come home, okay?” 

He did not answer at first.  When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire. 

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.   

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization. 

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine.  It made him stand a little straighter.  “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked. 

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger.  He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table. 

“You’re a smart woman,” he said.  “I know that.  And I know that you’re – good.” 

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue.  You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself.  He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted. 

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked. 

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady.  You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting. 

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before.  You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity.   Of him, of all that he was, all that he did.  His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband. 

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive. 

You desperately wondered what was on his mind.  The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response.  Was he feeling the same tension?  Were his thoughts the same realization?

 My wife.  

“Yes,” he finally said. 

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so.  It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss. 

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face. 

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time. 

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire.  It was so different to that kiss.  You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that.  You never knew what you were missing. 

Your quiet husband and his multitudes.  All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin.  His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever. 

He walked you backwards.  With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back.  He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.   

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself.  Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath. 

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain.   He looked at you like he already loved you.  He looked at you and saw the reciprocation.  You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled. 

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place.  His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body.  You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now.  It is why it became your favourite. 

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body.   It broke through that last layer of ice.  He surrendered with a choked breath. 

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket.   Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt.  You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard.   You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires.  No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real.   His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way.  He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before. 

Recollection makes you crave another kiss.   You think you will always be starving for more. 

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest. 

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed.   He kissed you again, long and slow.  It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.”  He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat.  “Please, my wife.”  He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it.   “My wife,” he repeated. 

“My husband.”  The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.   

It was all the confirmation he needed.  Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness.  He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.   

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way.  His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness.  Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you. 

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers.  It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth.  He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth.  He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you. 

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time.  He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you.  It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before.  You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind.  His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together.  You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars.  Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses. 

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless.  He always wanted more. 

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled.   However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever.  He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business.   You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations. 

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed.  There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance.  The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing.  But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before.  But while his silence was significant, so was his glance.  Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud. 

You granted him some distance for a time.  When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap. 

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side.  You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants.  His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up. 

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything. 

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case.   His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing.  You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair.  He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you. 

You ran your fingers through his hair.  When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek. 

There were some wipes on his desk.  You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up.  His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist.  He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself. 

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face.  Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied. 

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe.  Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him.  This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees. 

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly.   You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten. 

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face.   He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe.  The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body.  You were completedly naked underneath. 

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began.  It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh.  You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants.  It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.  

“Please,” you said. 

He would never deny you anything.  Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture.  When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour.  You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat.  His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise.  He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth. 

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment.  He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink. 

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds.  That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one.  He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss. 

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed.  The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment. 

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame.  When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it.   His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up. 

 “What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat.  The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower. 

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over.  He licked and kissed back up to your mouth.   “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.” 

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you.  His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him.  It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small.  Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception.   This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like  he was a life preserver in a storm.  The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise. 

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you.  He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat. 

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you.  You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.    

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man.  He understood.  He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure.  His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before.  You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms. 

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs.  It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered. 

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again.  He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over. 

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more.  Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you.  You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world.   You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him. 

You have been out of his arms for too long.  Your visit to your family grew tedious before long.  Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return. 

Now it seems you may never see it again.  You may never see him again. 

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now.  You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue.  You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business.  You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision.  You must eliminate the need for choice. 

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies.  When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings.  There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them. 

It is true, you do not like violence. 

That does not mean you do not understand it. 

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement.  Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown.  You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway. 

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle.  You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants. 

Then Hyunjin emerges.   You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it.  If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now.   There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely. 

Then he stumbles, recognizing you.  You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you. 

He looks nowhere but your eyes. 

“Hyunjin?” you finally say. 

“I—”  He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress.  He shakes his head.  Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say.  You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply.  You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business.  The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.  

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry.  You’re late.” 

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth.  He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says. 

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand.  His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.        

You turn to watch them go.  In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm.  He is fast, effectively disarming you.  He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him.  You throw your arms around him.  The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks. 

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain. 

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek.  He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe. 

“I’m all right now,” you say.  “Sorry I beat you to the punch.  I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles.  That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger.  He tips your head so he can look at your face.  He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find.  He is enchanted every time. 

“You’re mine,” he says.  “And I take care of what belongs to me.” 

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space.  He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless. 

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says.  His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary.  It makes you tingle from head to toe.  “Do I need to remind you?” 

You never actually answer.  You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home. 

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold.  He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist.  You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place.  Now, he is not slow or subtle.  He is a force of nature.   He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call. 

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body.  “I’m your husband.  There is nothing I should be holding back.” 

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair.  You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers.   “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath.   “Do whatever you want.” 

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down.  He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites.   You shiver at every suggestion. 

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed.  He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass. 

“You’re my wife,” he says.  The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress.  It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce.  “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.  

This time a yelp escapes your lips.  You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress.   He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.  

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers.  You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next.   You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together. 

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again.  “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down.  “My husband,” you say again. 

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you.   With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold. 

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking.  His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?�� he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead.  You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place.  Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows. 

“I make you feel good,” he says.  “I take care of you.  You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently.  Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up. 

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess.  “Just for me,” he says in that whisper.  “Just for your husband.” 

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you. 

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up.  He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed.  You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap.  He forgets to remove his necklace.  All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you.   You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you. 

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions.   When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase.   When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever.  When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms. 

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart.  Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow.  Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him.  You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels. 

Before it ends, you change position.  He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely.  He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down.  Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name.  His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body.  Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again.  He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn. 

“Hyunjin,” you say.  “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately.  Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you. 

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin. 

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn.  His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth.   There is no more ice, no more cold concrete. 

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly.  It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art. 

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says.   “Just like you rescued me.” 

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him.  It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back. 

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband. 

[eu-nicola]

Morocco part 2

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

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

word counter: 8530

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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