#trigger warnings for like..... everything

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 2

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible.

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Contary to popular belief, (which was pretty much that the shadows had no mind of their own, which they had, thank you very much) the shadows did do other thing than to only listen to Master’s orders. 

Of course they listened to Master’s orders. 

But they also did…things that Master didn’t know about…and would never need to find out about…

One example in fact was the amount of gold the shadows had squirreled away throughout the centuries. Not for them, but for Master. So that Mater would never need to worry about that again. So that Master would never need to sleep in a dungeon again, like he had as a child. So Master could always have new weapons and could keep himself safe, so that he would have everything he needed.

Gold wasn’t the only thing they had squirrelled away…they had other things stashed away too! Anyhting that made the appearance of being useful one day! Shiny little things, because the shadows liked that…Sadly Master never made the appearance that he would appreciate the diamond necklaces they had hidden away in a little cave, but maybe one day…

Maybe one day Master would take a wife and she would like them.

The shadows had it all figured out. Whoever she turned out to be, they would make sure that she liked them too. They would make themselves useful so that she would like them.

Even when it had never seemed to work before… The shadows had made themselves scarce around The Morrigan and The Seer because they knew that Master liked them. And if Master liked them…well, then the shadows would make sure that Master got what he wanted.

Master wanted so few things after all…

They even found The Morrigan her favourite red lipstick that hadn’t been made in centuries. Not because they liked The Morrigan, but because Master did.

And in return, she treated Master like that.

And The Seer…oh, somehow that was even worse.

Though The Seer wasn’t the only one the Shadows didn’t like because of that. The High Lord was the other one. And him… oh, the shadows would get their revenge. 

Master was theirs. Nobody talked to Master like that.

(They just needed to wait for the perfect moment…and the High Lord would regret ever treating their Master like that…)

Master had nearly gotten himself killed just because he had wanted to make The Seer happy…and nobody even seemed to care about that. Not really. 

And then Master was working himself to the bone, clearly wanting to forget what happened between him and The Seer…and the Shadows just wanted to fix things, but there was nothing to fix anymore. 

At least now…At least now, finally, Master was listening to somebody with his best interests at first.

The Shadows would find Master a wife. The best wife they possibly could. And a home too.

And so, with their new mission in mind, the shadows set off to find the perfect home and the perfect female for their master.

The home was the easier part.

Mostly because they already owned it for a few decades. 

It was a picturesque Lake House at one of the mountain seas in Velaris, not far off from the House of Wind. It was beautiful and just a few minutes by foot away from the city center but still private and quiet…and the view was spectacular. 

The home itself was warm and cozy, with large windows that let in plenty of sunlight. Master would love it.

It just needed a little…attention. Some furniture…They would need to put the stuff they had filled it with somewhere else but that shouldn’t be a problem, right? 

Master would love it. Now they just needed the right female to share it with for Master…

The shadows were going to find Master a wife… They just needed…They just needed to figure out some criteria at first.

Master had said he didn’t care about how she looked…so that didn’t help them to narrow down the pool of possible candidates.

Nobody with a known mate. Nobody in a romantic relationship… regardless of how loose that was. The Shadows were not going to get Master’s heart broken again, thank you very much… Then all the females that preferred females themselves.

That did narrow it down… at least a little bit.

Then the more…obscure character traits. 

Nobody that was a workaholic like Master. That was never going to work.

Nobody that needed endless other people around them to be happy…Master would just get overwhelmed and shut down…

Nobody that didn’t seem like they were ready for a long term relationship either…once again, they didn’t want to break Master’s heart again…

The shadows had met really bad people. Criminals and murderers…they had seen the worst the world had to offer …but they were surprised by how many females they threw out too that pool simply because of how they behaved towards other people.

Once they had thought that maybe…maybe one female was an option. Dark blonde hair, green eyes…she had a steady job and she liked going out dancing….by the time she made fun of the limp of a soldier, the shadows wondered if every single person they came across was an asshole. They also wondered if there was anyone out there who truly deserved Master. 

But the Shadows refused to give up. They would find the right female for Master, no matter how long it took. They had already acquired a beautiful home for him, and now they were determined to find the perfect mate to share it with...

They could easily suss out anybody they wanted to meet…they could figure out which females were available…The problem was only that…they did find some kind of problem with every female they came across.

The blonde one that made fun of the limp was just one in a very long row of them. There was another one that they thought could have worked…but she got into earhsattering, screaming arguments with seemingly everybody she came across. Master liked his quietness, that wasn’t going to work either…

Another few that didn’t want a serious relationship even when they said they did, which was completely fine but made them useless for the shadows purposes… The Shadows were halfway ready to give up in Velaris and start trying again in another city of the Night Court, when they came across her in a dark back alley.

Across her and probably the dirtiest and ugliest feral cat that the shadows had ever seen.The ugliest cat they had ever seen that she was clearly trying to entice to come home with her.

“H-hey, swe...sweetie,” she whispered, her voice stuttering. She was crouched down o the floor. “Wa—Want to go somewhere war—warmer?”

The cat meowed pitifully and the shadows watched as she wrapped the cat up in the scarf she had worn, not for one moment caring that the cat was goign to ruin it. 

The shadows couldn’t help but keep watching, their curiosity piqued. She was clearly not concerned about the dirt or the torn scarf, and she was attempting to bond with this mangy feral cat. This showed a level of compassion and patience that they hadn’t often come across in their search. 

She seemed determined to help the cat, and the shadows couldn't help but admire her tenacity. 

The cat looked horribly, with matted, dirty fur, two eyes that stared in two different direction and an overbite. Somehow it reminded the Shadows of Master. 

Not with the way it looked…more in the way it pitfully stayed quiet and didn’t attack the female, even as she picked it up, wrapped in her scarf and then took it home. 

She smiled at the mangly back alley cat with so much adoration that the shadows wondered where it was even coming from. Her face was alight with joy as the cat rubbed her head against her fingertips.

The shadows followed along as she brought the cat to her apartment.

It was tiny. Tiny and absolutely stuffed full with books. So many books. Like somebody had tried to stuff the whole library of the Hose of Wind in this little apartment overlooking the harbour.

She had so many bookcases lining the walls, books in little stacks on her dining table and coffee table…or simply stacked on the floor. It was cozy and cluttered and utterly charming. Her passion for literature spilled out of every corner of her home. 

The Shadows couldn’t help but wonder what kin of person would choose to filll their living space with so many books. 

Apparently a person that had no problem with spending the better part of an hour bathing the cat in her kitchen sink. 

Weren't cats supposed to not to like water?

This one didn't seem to care. This one sat calmly in her sink and attemptsed to bite the stream of water flowing from the faucet...which meant it snuffled and sneezed for the big majority of the bath. She soaped him up twice, muttering a constant stream of reassurances that the cat doesn't seem to actually need, given the cat’s complete lack of distress at being repeatedly soaked.

And still she talked to it, constantly, the stutter omnipresent. She showed a remarkable amount of patience and care as she cleaned and combed the feral cat, gently and painstakingly combing out every single matted strand of hair and making sure the cat was clean and comfortable.

The shadows couldn't help but be slightly taken aback. She seemed completely focused on making sure the cat was happy and healthy, and she didn't even seem to mind that she was making a mess of her kitchen in the process. 

​​She scooped said up in a fluffy towel, rubbing it up and the cat purred, looking at her with two eyes that stared in two different directions. It was still the ugliest cat the shadows had ever seen, but she seemed to utterly adore it.

"You need - need a name," she told the cat seriously. She seemed to take this decision very seriously, as if the cat's name was a reflection of his identity. The cat in question was clearly enjoying the attention, purring contentedly as it was rubbed with a fluffy towel. "I thi-ink you are a boy. How about...Hector," she said finally, as if she had carefully considered many options before settling on this one. "I think it suits you.”

"How about some tu...tuna, Hector?" she asked him seriously. "I'll even give...give you the good crystal."

She couldn’t be serious, could she?

Apparently, she was. She fed the mangy back alley cat from a fancy little crystal dish that she put a tin of tuna into with a flourish, putting out another dish with water right next to it. 

She slipped off the apron she had put on, printed with ditsy little florals and sat down next to the cat. Hector happily scarfed down everything she was offering and then came to curl himself up on her lap. “I have a bad track record with males,” she told the cat seriously. “They end up cheating on me with my sister.”

The statement caught the shadows off guard. What? 

Despite that admission she she continued to gently stroke the cat in her lap, clearly finding some comfort in his company. "I'll feed you all the tuna I can find, if you keep me company," she told the cat softly. "I could really use some company."

That wasn’t…that wasn’t what the shadows had expected. Bu the Hector purre, the sound rough and growly and she giggled, sounding sweet and incandescently happy. 

She wanted companionship. That was clear. And she was also used to beng the second choice, when the males she had been with, had cheated on her with her sister. 

They were intrigued. 

They kept watching, hiding between her books, that seemed to span every which genre as she got ready for bed. 

She took a bath, and they watched as she let down her hair from the thick braided bun it had been kept it, ripples of chocolate brown tresses falling down her back…she was pretty too. 

Pretty with dark hair and blue eyes, with lush curves that were swathed into a pair of blue silk pyjamas.

She opened a chest at the end of her wrought iron bed, going through it for a moment and then pulling out a fluffy blanket, into which she wrapped Hector in. 

“Here, you..you can have that one,” she said softly, placing the cat at the end of her bed. “Let’s go to sleep.”

And so she went to sleep, curled up between floral sheets, and the cat purring at her feed and the shadows watched. 

They stayed.  

While she slept, they explored her house, searching for everything that they could learn about her. Searched for a name and her job or her hobbies and…

The answer was found in the desk that was tucked beneath her window in the living room. 

Dozens of pages filled with loopy handwriting were covering it. Drafts of her newest novel. A romance novel. 

Just a few moments later they found a stack of letters…and then were very confused for a little while, because there were letters addressed to two different females. Skylar Alden…and one Sellyn Drake. 

It took them a moment until they realised that both names contained the same letters.

Skylar Alden was Sellyn Drake.

Sellyn Drake, the bestselling romance author. Sellyn Drake, who Lady Death loved to read. Sellyn Drake, whose identity was a secret...

Skylar Alden was Sellyn Drake. 

Skylar Alden, who seemed to prefer to be called Sky, signing everything with just these three letter…and who doted on Hector, the ugly cat..She was also Sellyn Drake, Bestselling Romance Novel Author extraordinaire. 

And she seemed very much content with keeping that a secret. 

But why? 

Why did she chose to hide her identity? Was she afraid of the fame that came with success? Or did she prefer to remain anonymous and blend in with the everyday world? 

The Shadows were intrigued. 

Was this the only secret Sky was hiding? 

The Shadows kept an eye her over the following days. 

They waited for her to do something that would put her out of the running as Master’s wife. Waited for her to have some kind of flaw that they couldn't deal with...but there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

They closely monitored her every move, and half the time she didn’t even leave her apartment, preferring to stay curled up inside, write her books, and cuddle with Hector, the cat.

For cauldron’s sake…she even knitted the ugly cat a sweater so he wouldn’t get cold because his belly didn’t have any fur after she had removed all these mats!

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that they could find in her life that could even be construed as unkind. 

Sky had a bank account that was full thanks to the books she wrote…and all she paid for with it, was her rent, her food, her regular mail orders of more books…She even donated to one of the orphanages in Velaris, for crying outloud! 

Sometimes she went down to the fishmonger and bought ridiculously expensive tuna for Hector, who she spoiled rotten. 

Though that one trip to the harbour…where the shadows hid in her handbag…well, that one trip explained why she seemed more than content to stay in the privacy of her own home for most of the time. 

Her stutter got exponentially worse when she tried to talk to another person, when it wasn’t just herself and the cat that she liked reading her books aloud to... 

Especially when the person she tried to talk to was an impatient fishmonger that rolled his eyes at her stutter. The Shadows as Sky’s cheeks turned a ruddy red, embarrassment clouding around her thickly. 

The shadows silently bristled. 

She acquired her tuna, paid silently and then kept her head down as she headed back home, cheeks still read, while blue, blue eyes filled with tears. 

And that…that was just pissing the shadows off. 

She hadn’t even been doing anything! She had just stuttered while asking for fish!

It wasn’t like she was doing this on purpose!

One tendril from the Shadows darted out of her bag, waiting until Sky was far enough away that that idiotic fishmonger wouldn’t think she had anything to do with it…

And then they only needed to loose that pesky little screw that kept one of the legs of his table attached…Screw you, Fishmonger. Let that be a lesson to be nicer to other people 

Another customer accidentally jostled said table just seconds later and the shadows snickered to themselves as the fish went flying. 

The tendril silently returned to Sky’s handbag, as she made her way back home. 

Hector got some of the Tuna cut up into small pieces on the good crystal bowl…and Sky gently scratched him behind his ears the whole time. 

The Shadows silently wondered if Master would enjoy being scratched behind his ears, as well. 

“I’ll ha--have dinner with my family to…tonight. You’ll stay here, al-alright? I’ll be back soon,” she promised the cat. 

Hector just purred at her, nuzzling against her hand before the cat began to dig into the tuna as though he would never be fed again.

Her family. Well, the Shadows would totally come along for that…who knew, maybe her family was just as lovely as she was!

They were not in fact as lovely, as she was.

It started with the very first words of her mother who opened the door, Sky juggling her purse and a paper covered tray from a bakery: “Did you bring dessert? It’s not like you should eat any of that.”

Sky paused at her mother's words, the small smile that had graced her face vanishing like water in the sand.

And then it returned, but the difference between her true smile and her fake smile were so... stark.

"Hi-i. I brou… I brought cake," she said, holding out the tray towards her. "Where do you….Whe-ere do…where do-o you want me to…to put it?"

Her voice was shaking. And she was stuttering…stuttering even worse than she had done with that fishmonger.

“Talk properly, Skylar,” her mother admonished her harshly. “Put it in the kitchen.”

Sky gave a small nod, but her eyes were downcast as the Shadows followed her into the house. 

The Shadows were...not impressed with Sky's mother. It was clear that her stutter wasn’t something that she could help, but instead was something that came out stronger when she was nervous or anxious or around other people. 

Sky set the cake on the counter and glanced towards the dining room. The table was already set, surrounded by other people, that the shadows took in, while hiding in the curtains of the living room: 

Sky’s mother was taller than her, blonde and grey eyed. The shadows also got their first glimpse at what probably was her sister. Looking just like her mother, tall and slender…accompanied by a red haired male. And then there was another blonde male, probably a brother…and an older male, who must be her father. At least he shared her dark hair.

“Ah there you are Skylar,” the blonde female greeted her, her voice sickly sweet.

"Hi Claire. Hi-i…ever…everyone," she murmured looking as though she would rather be anywhere but here.

Her eyes briefly flitted to her father. He gave a small nod, but otherwise he looked… indifferent. As though he did not even care.

"We've been waiting for you," her mother said, her voice sharp and curt, "Sit." Sky didn't respond, just moved quickly to the table. She settled down in one of the empty spots, clasping her hands on her lap.

"...Is this what you call fashion?" her sister scoffed.

Sky looked down at her outfit. 

As far as the shadows could tell, there was nothing wrong with it. I cream coloured blouse, a blue skirt…It was a rather pretty outfit in the Shadow's opinion. Sky looked beautiful and charming to them. 

“Did you gain weight, again?” The red haired male said with a roll of his eyes. “You always had a horrible sweet tooth.”

What. 

Since when did that make polite dinner conversation?

Sky didn't respond, even when the shadows could see her hands tightening around each other, looking down as her mother let out an exasperated sigh. “You’ll never find a male like this,” her mother snorted. “Males don’t like it if girls don’t keep up their appearances. The least you could do is try.”

"I'm...sor...re...sorry," the stuttering had gotten worse, Sky practically shrinking into her seat. She was fidgeting, looking as though she wanted to disappear into herself and the Shadows wished that they could just sweep her far away from here.

“How is work?” Her brother asked flatly at that moment. “Still editing your stupid romance novels? I still think you should do something slightly more useful.”

So even they didn’t know. 

Sellyn Drake was a secret even from her family. But then, if her family talked to her like that and it was…normal…then the shadows weren’t surprised. 

“What else is she supposed to do?” the red haired male asked with a snort. “It’s not like she has any skills.”

Sky flinched, not looking at him. The shadows wondered if that was one of the males that had cheated on her with her sister. 

“Oh, come on, Admon. She has some skills,” her sister said at that moment, giving another winning smile. “She can annoy everybody around her with her inability to speak properly.” 

Wow. 

Sky didn’t even flinch. Sky did nothing. 

She just...sat there through all the comments. Sky didn't even try to defend herself.

The whole dinner went by like that. Comment after comment after comment. About her work, about her body, about her clothing, about her stutter… Sky barely had any dinner because every time she picked up her fork with food on it, her mother was shooting her a sharp look. So she left most of the food on her plate and the shadows wanted to bristle. 

She maybe wasn’t as thin as her mother or her sister but that didn’t make her any less beautiful or any less deserving of food! 

When they weren’t making prickly comments about sky, her older brother Orin and Claire, her sister were only talking about themselves. It was quite useful only because the shadows learned stuff like the fact that Claire and Admon were engaged to be married and that Orin was working at a bank…

But none of that information made it worth for them to treat her like that. 

Eventually the dinner finally ended after what felt like an eternity. Sky looking as though she could hardly wait to leave. She rose, and the Shadows quickly into her purse her as she grabbed her purse and her jacket.

"Leaving already?" her mother frowned, standing as well. 

"I…It's get…getting…late." Sky said, her eyes not even lifting to look at her mother.

The words were barely out of her mouth before her mother's hand darted out, gripping her jaw tightly and causing the Shadows to let out a warning hiss. Sky winced in pain as her mother forced her to look up.

“At least try to be polite, if you are utterly useless.”

Sky's eyes widened in pain as her lip wobbled. She looked as though she was going to cry, her hands clenching and unclenching as she tried to stay calm. "I'm…sor-r-r-ry." She whispered.

But her mother didn't even release her grip. "Don't talk to me like you are the one being wronged. Look at you. Who would want you like this?"

The Shadows bristled at her mother's words. Everyone would want her like this, they thought angrily. We would want her like this.

Sky swallowed thickly, trying to fight her tears. She was trembling, trembling from head to toe.

"I'm sor-rry. Pl-please. Let me go." She stammered.

Her mother simply sneered, and shoved her backwards, Sky nearly falling as she stumbled. "You'll never amount to anything." She said coldly. "You're nothing more than a disappointment."

Sky looked absolutely mortified at her mother's words, tears starting to fall from her eyes as she looked down at her feet. She looked like a wounded animal, like someone who had given up. And it made the Shadows burn with anger. How could her own family be so cruel to her? Didn't they see how kind she was? Or how…how sweet she was?

Sky took a step backwards, and then she was running, practically fleeing out the door, rushing into the night. She was almost running, her breaths ragged as every gasp she took sounded as though she was trying to smother her sobs.

Finally, she slowed down, but didn't stop walking.

She just kept walking, her head down, tears still falling down from her wide eyes. Finally, she slowed down, but didn't stop walking. She made her way back home, shoulders caved in, looking utterly and completely miserable, as opened her door with her key…and then the damn burst. 

And she collapsed right on the floor in her hallway, great, heaving sobs escaping her.  

And the shadows just knew one thing with utter certainty: They were going to fix this. They were going to fix this for her and Master.

Even when it was the last fucking thing they did. 

[alygator77]

ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex, some triggers of domestic abuse (emotional abuse from naoya but it can be a bit suggestive/interpreted as physical)

ꨄ words: 10.5k

ꨄ a/n. hello my mhm lovelies :') i've missed writing this fic dearly! please note, this is not chapter 7—however, i will be releasing ch 7 this month. this is just a fun little side chapter with some family domesticity for the autumn season. taking place sometime after reader/satoru become official. ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

♬ playlist

series masterlist ꨄ︎

ch 6.5 // harvesting happiness

As the crisp autumn air has arrived, it brings with it a feeling of change—and perhaps nature itself is subtly acknowledging just how much your life has shifted.

It’s baffling. Your time in the Gojo estate has been nothing short of eventful—and it feels like just yesterday you stood in front of Satoru, proposing an arrangement that was as unexpected as it was necessary. But now, with the leaves turning a fiery shade of red, orange, and gold, you realize just how quietly and quickly fall has crept in.

And with all this change, your relationship with Satoru has begun to reshape as well—a new chapter, freshly inked. No secrets, no acts—just the three of you, finding your footing in this new arrangement you’ve embarked on.

But one thing hasn’t changed—Satoru simply can’t say no to Haru.

It’s something that’s too cute for its own good—watching him wrapped around her small little finger, treating her like the princess she is. Ahh…but it’s even cuter how he tries to hide it. Satoru has a heart of gold, and though he may use his wit and charm as a mask, you’ve come to see through most of his tricks now—especially when it involves Haru.

And Haru? Well, lately she has really started to become attached to Satoru—in ways that even surprise you. Everything has been ‘toru this - ‘toru that. The trouble with it? Well... ’toru doesn’t have all the experience of handling a kid, let alone a two-year-old. But day by day, he is learning.

Fall is Haru’s favorite season, ironic given her name translates to “spring.” She adores everything about it—the cool, crisp air that calls for cuddles and cozy sweaters, the cinnamon pumpkin treats that have become a staple in the kitchen, and the magic of “spooky season,” as she calls it.

The latest item on her list? A trip to the pumpkin patch.

The idea had come up over breakfast, as you sipped your chai and watched Haru list off her autumn plans with boundless enthusiasm. The moment she had flashed those wide, hopeful eyes at you both, of course Satoru offered to take her—he stepped in immediately and you’d been surprised but delighted by the offer.

And now, you’re embarking on this journey together—off to the pumpkin patch. You head down the stairs of the Gojo’s estate with Haru’s little hand nestled in yours—chattering excitedly about all the things she wants to do and see at the pumpkin patch.

“Let’s find a big pumpkin, Mama! I wanna pet the animals!”

You smile, nodding along, but as you reach the end of the stairs, glancing into the foyer, you’re greeted by a sight entirely unexpected.

Satoru leans casually against the banister, scrolling through his phone, but he’s dressed down in a way you’ve never seen. Gone are his usual tailored suits and designer dress shoes—instead, he’s wearing an oversized hoodie, a pair of well-worn jeans, and, most surprisingly, a black beanie snug over his white hair. The only familiar accessory he wears is that pair of round, dark sunglasses resting upon the bridge of his nose.

Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, he glances up from his phone, grinning.

“Well, look at you, Mr. Gojo,” you smirk, stepping closer. “You almost look…normal.”

A low hum rumbles from his chest as he takes off his sunglasses for a moment, letting you catch sight of that familiar twinkle in his eyes.

“Almost?” he feigns offense, pushing off from the banister. “Aw man, that’s disappointing, considering that this,” he gestures at his outfit, “is premium low-profile attire.”

You snort, reaching up to playfully tug on one of the strings of his hoodie.

“I didn’t realize you had a whole ‘undercover’ look ready to go.”

“Well… yeah,” he leans forward and presses a quick peck to your lips. “Life of a celebrity, sweetheart. Last thing we need is the pumpkin paparazzi swarming us. I’d rather they didn’t ruin Haru’s big day out.”

His words make you pause, a gentle warmth filling your chest at his thoughtfulness—but before you can respond, a tiny voice chimes in.

“‘toru, you look like a spy!” Haru’s small hand grips the fabric of his jeans, her face alight with excitement as she gazes up at him.

Satoru chuckles, turning his attention fully to her. As he crouches down to meet her gaze, his own expression softens.

“A spy, huh? You’re onto something princess.” He gently ruffles her hair. “Alright… here’s the deal. You can be my sidekick, but only if you keep my secret.” He puts a finger to his lips, and whispers. “No one can know who I really am. It’ll be our secret mission.”

“Secret! I won’t tell,” she whispers with utmost seriousness, and her eyes beam with the thrill of this imaginary game he’s now given her.

“Good,” he murmurs, tapping her nose lightly, “I knew I could trust ya, kiddo,” and as he shoots her a wink, she dissolves into a fit of giggles.

You watch them from a few steps away, leaning back against the banister with your arms crossed—a soft smile tugging at your lips. There’s something endearing, almost mesmerizing, about the way Satoru allows himself to be swept up in Haru’s world, and you’re incredibly impressed at how seamlessly he’s growing into this role—this new chapter of his life, and yours. As you catch glimpses of the man he’s becoming, these small, unguarded moments bring forth a version of Satoru that feels both familiar and entirely new.

Just then, Satoru glances up and catches you watching him with that uncharacteristically soft expression. His gaze narrows playfully, and a mischievous smirk spreads across his lips as he stands.

“What, Mrs. Gojo? Enjoying the view?”

Your smile softens, and the words that leave your lips slip out before you even realize it.

“Who knew dad vibes could look this good on you?”

Ah, fuck. The second the words leave your lips; you feel a heat rushing to your cheeks—you’ve spoken without thinking, letting your admiration for him slip out in a way that feels a little too honest—more vulnerable than you intended—giving him a title—that title. You’re still getting used to this… this new, real relationship that you and Satoru share, and moments like this catch you off guard.

Satoru’s reaction is immediate; his eyes widen in surprise, and for a heartbeat, he simply blinks at you, processing what you’ve said. Flustered, you bite your lip—your gaze darting away for a moment as the heat in your face intensifies. There is no hiding the delicate pink painting your cheeks.

But then, his surprise melts into a grin—a slow, pleased smile that lights up his entire face, stretching into a smirk that’s all too self-satisfied.

“Oh?” his voice drips with amusement. “I didn’t realize you were such a fan of my ‘dad vibes.’”

Stepping forward, he tilts his head—studying you with a newfound intensity, and it becomes very clear that he’s relishing in your flustered reaction.

Ugh. You don’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed in his response. Clearing your throat, you try to salvage a bit of dignity.

“I, uh… I just mean, y’know… you’re getting the hang of this,” you mumble.

You should know better—that playful glint in Satoru’s eyes tells you he’s not letting you off the hook. His eyes beam with mischief as he leans in close, and you desperately try to advert your gaze.

“Oh, no, no, no. Don’t backtrack now,” he smirks, turning your face to meet him.

The warmth in your cheeks intensifies under his gaze, and his fingers linger, brushing tenderly against your chin. Your breath catches the moment he moves in closer—lips ghosting just over yours.

“I think I could get used to is this kind of flattery…”

You suck in a breath and playfully roll your eyes. “The last thing you need is an ego boost. Don’t get too used to it…”

“Too late,” he whispers back.

Before you can say anything else, a small, impatient voice breaks the moment.

“Mama, ‘toru! Let’s gooo! Pumpkins!” she pouts.

You both blink, snapping out of the moment as you glance down at Haru, who’s now tugging on your hands with eager impatience.

She’s not about to let her pumpkin adventure be delayed by your moment.

“Alright, alright, princess, we’re going,” Satoru chuckles, ruffling her hair playfully. “Besides, I’m not the only one going incognito today.”

Turning towards a nearby table, he reaches for a small shopping bag you hadn’t noticed before, and you raise an eyebrow in curiosity as he holds the bag out to you with a smirk. The moment the bag is settled in your hands, you immediately open it—revealing your own matching beanie, followed by a pair of sleek designer sunglasses.

“Gotta keep my partner in crime undercover too.”

“Ah, of course,” you muse, grinning at you pull your disguise out of the shopping bag. “Didn’t realize we were going full ‘spy mode’ for this outing.”

Satoru chuckles, but his eyes soften as he watches you slip the beanie over your head and position the sunglasses on the bridge of your nose with a flourish.

“How do I look?” you pose playfully.

“Like the perfect accomplice,” he declares with a grin. “No one will suspect a thing.”

Haru’s face lights up and she claps her hands in excitement.

“Mama’s a spy too!” she squeals.

The thrill in her voice pulls a laugh from both you and Satoru—she’s completely swept up in this game. Satoru mirrors after you—slipping on his own sunglasses with an exaggerated flourish as he flashes Haru a mischievous grin. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket and whispers conspiratorially—as though letting her in on a top-secret plan.

“That’s right, kiddo. It’s a full family mission.”

Haru’s eyes beam with childlike wonder as she nods—putting her finger to her lips again—mimicking his serious expression. Suddenly, Satoru pulls out a set of keys from his hoodie pocket and begins dangling them in front of you with a grin. The silver glints in the sunlight as he places them in your hand.

“C’mon, you’re driving today,” he says with an easy nonchalance.

It takes a moment for you to register that it’s your keys he had set in your hand, and you blink down at them for a moment while he steps towards the door. It’s been so long since you’ve driven your own car that it feels oddly unfamiliar—like a relic from another life.

“Oh, uh… yeah, sure,” you stammer, still caught off guard as you follow him out the door, with Haru skipping beside you—a cascade of excitement as she babbles about today’s adventure.

Once you step outside, your gaze lands on your car waiting in the driveway—a dark blue sedan with a soft, understated shine—a small piece of normalcy you’d left behind in the wake of Gojo's luxury.  It’s nothing extravagant, but it’s always been reliable.

Driving out of the Gojo estate… in your car? It’s a strange, almost surreal concept after all the chauffeured cars and limos that have now oddly become routine. A rush of familiarity surges through you—remembering the simpler times, a glimpse of the life that once belonged solely to you.

While you’re lost down memory lane, Satoru strolls toward the passenger side. He pauses, glancing back to find you standing there—keys in hand, a touch of nostalgia softening you features. His signature smirk settles into place as he leans casually against the passenger door and muses.

“What’s the matter? Afraid you’ve forgotten how to drive? Or…” his eyes narrow with playful mischief as he raises an eyebrow, “are you too fancy to drive your own car now, Mrs. Gojo?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes before striding over to the rear passenger door, where Haru waits—her small fingers clutching the edge eagerly.

“Says the one who never drives,” you shoot back, grinning as you pull open the door. “Mr. ‘Passenger Princess.’”

Your comment earns you a dramatic huff as he places a hand over his chest—pretending to be affronted—though the grin curling upon his lip tells you he’s anything but offended.

“Excuuuse me, but this ‘passenger princess’ comes with premium commentary and a charming smile. Not everyone’s lucky enough to have this level of company in the front seat.”

Shaking your head, you roll your eyes again as you reach down to lift Haru into the car.

“Lucky me,” you mutter with a grin.

But just as you begin to settle Haru into her car seat, her demeanor shifts—before you know it, she’s twisting in your arms, pressing her hands against your shoulders, all while her little brows draw together in a determined pout.

“No, Mama!” she wriggles free—scurrying down to plant her feet on the ground. You blink the moment she crosses her arms and defiantly declares, “I want ‘toru to do it!”

The request takes you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily speechless. Uhhh… come to think of it, does Satoru even know how to strap a toddler into a car seat? You glance over at him, and he looks equally thrown off—an uncertain smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

You can practically see his internal debate unfolding—he subtly glances between you and Haru—clearly flattered but just as visibly out of his depth.

Oh, Haru. She absolutely adores him—and while Satoru isn’t exactly resisting the role she’s suddenly assigned him, you know first-hand that he’s pretty much clueless with toddler basics. Car seats and sippy cups? Yeah… not exactly his area of expertise.

With a sigh, you kneel beside Haru—a gentle smile on your lips.

“Haru, honey… Satoru doesn’t exactly—"

Satoru clears his throat.

“—uh… sure, I can do it,” he straightens, pushing himself off the side of the car with a nonchalant shrug as he gives you a small, uncertain grin. “How hard can it be?”

A giggle breaks from Haru’s lips as he swoops her up, and her little arms wrap around his neck with delight—but Satoru’s eyes narrow at the car seat like it’s some sort of complex machinery he’s about to dismantle. Oh… this is gonna be good.

He carefully lowers her into the seat, and his brows furrow with intense focus as his fingers begin to slip over the unfamiliar buckles.

“Alright… this goes here… or does it?” he mutters.

Biting back a smile, you marvel at how determined yet adorably out of his element he is—untangling the straps. But as you watch him struggle, you are suddenly struck with the realization of how different this moment feels from anything you have ever experienced in the past.

Naoya? He would never have humored Haru’s whims, let alone spent time trying to puzzle out something as simple (yet surprisingly complicated) as a car seat. No—it was easier for him to hand off the messy tasks of parenting.

But Satoru? Here he was, eyebrows knitted in stubborn determination—refusing to give up on this minor challenge, simply because Haru had asked him to. Each small stumble, each adjustment he makes, only seems to fuel his resolve to get it right.

After a few moments, a sigh of mild frustration escapes him, and he pauses, staring at the tangled straps in front of him in defeat. Finally, glancing over his shoulder, he casts you a sheepish look that’s so uncharacteristically vulnerable it melts you.

“Uhh… I’m doing this right…right?”

Oh, he’s too cute. He’s trying so hard, and something about it makes you want to lean in and kiss him, just for being so completely, irresistibly endearing.

Stepping forward, you smile softly, inspecting his work with a practiced eye.

“You’re doing great,” you assure him warmly, reaching out to gently adjust the chest clip. “But you’ll want to raise this a little higher—it should be level with her armpits, and maybe tighten it a bit more.”

His eyes focus closely on your hands as you gently guide him through the adjustments, and he nods—carefully stepping back in to finish the task with a newfound confidence.

“Okay, got it.”

Your slight encouragement seems to have spurred his fingers to move more purposefully now. Tightening the strap, he gives it a final tug to check the tension, and with a small huff of triumph, a wide grin spreads across his face as he leans back—admiring his handiwork.

“There,” he announces, sounding both relieved and just a little proud. “One secure kiddo.”

Haru beams up at him, her eyes sparkling with delight.

“Good job, ‘toru!” her voice is filled with an adorable pride, as though she’s the one teaching him.

“Anything for you, princess,” he chuckles, gently closing her door and casting her one last fond look through the window. Then, with an easy stride, he slips into the passenger seat beside you, settling in with an air of satisfaction.

“All right, you two,” you exhale, securing your seatbelt with a satisfying click. “Let’s hit the road, shall we?”

After securing his own seatbelt, Satoru’s eyes flicker to yours with playful adoration. He leans back with a contented sigh.

“Yup. And with you behind the wheel, I get the best view in the car,” winking playfully, his trademark smirk appears as he adds, “Ready when you are, Madam Chauffeur.”

ꨄ︎

The pumpkin patch sprawls before you like a painted autumn wonderland. Rows upon rows of pumpkins in every imaginable shape and size dot the field—their bright orange hues glowing under the soft, golden light of the afternoon sun. Rustic wooden signs swing gently in the breeze, directing families to activities like hay rides, corn mazes, and a “Pumpkin Painting Station.” You’re welcomed with the earthy scent of fallen leaves, mingling with the sweetness of spiced donuts and apple cider—a warm nostalgic embrace of autumn.

Nearby, children dart between the pumpkins, shrieking with laughter as they kick up leaves. Parents snap photos, their laughter joining the symphony of crunching footsteps and cheerful voices. You glance at Satoru, who’s paused just past the entrance—his gaze sweeping across the scene with a mixture of awe and slight bewilderment. There’s a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, like he’s trying to take in every detail of this unfamiliar world.

“Well?” you ask, nudging him gently with a smile. “What do you think?”

He shrugs, flashing a lopsided grin as he meets your gaze.

“Honestly? I’m not sure what I was expecting. Maybe something a little more… contained?” his eyes flick to a group of kids who’ve just toppled over in a pile of leaves—sending a cloud of autumn colors flying around them.

“Contained?” you echo, a smirk crossing your face. “Satoru, it’s a pumpkin patch, not a black-tie event. Consider it an adventure in rural living.”

He lets out a low chuckle, and his usual confidence is softened by a rare, boyish charm.

“Mmm... well I guess I’m overdue for an adventure like this,” his gaze drifts over the rows of pumpkins—families bundled in scarves and jackets as the haze of afternoon sunlight filters through the trees. His tone dips into something warm, almost tender. “Hard to believe, but I’ve never actually been to one of these before.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

He shakes his head, looking almost sheepish.

“Nah... let’s just say pumpkin patches aren’t exactly a Gojo family tradition…” he chuckles softly, but there’s a bit of sadness coloring his voice as he scratches the back of his head. “I guess most of my autumns were spent in places a bit… less pumpkin-filled.”

His unguarded honesty tugs at something deep within you. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, just how much of a different world he comes from—how even the smallest traditions, like visiting a pumpkin patch, might’ve been out of reach for him.

Without a second thought, you reach over, sliding your hand into his, your fingers curling around his in a gentle squeeze. He looks down, surprise flashing in his eyes, before his expression softens as he meets your gaze.

“There’s a first time for everything,” you murmur softly. “And… now you’ve got Haru and me to show you how it’s done. We’re practically pumpkin patch experts.”

A soft smile breaks across his face, and for a moment, he looks like he’s letting down a guard you hadn’t even realized was there.

“I couldn’t ask for better teachers,” he squeezes your hand back.

Just then, a delighted gasp breaks the stillness as Haru tugs excitedly on Satoru’s hand—her eyes are wide and shining with wonder as she points to a patch of particularly large pumpkins.

“Look, ‘toru! Big ones!” she practically bounces with energy. “Let’s go! Pleeease?”

Satoru’s expression softens even further as he glances from you to Haru, and with a small laugh, he nods—allowing himself to be pulled forward by her tiny but insistent hand.

“Alright, alright, lead the way, pumpkin expert,” he says, casting a quick, affectionate glance back at you—and your heart swells from the way his eyes twinkle with amusement, and maybe, just a hint of gratitude.

ꨄ︎

“This one?” Satoru asks, holding up a pumpkin with a proud grin.

“No!” Haru exclaims immediately, her face scrunched up in disapproval. “Too skinny.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, giving the pumpkin an exaggerated, doubtful look.

“Too skinny, huh?” setting it down with a sigh, he brushes off his hands—back to square one. “Alright, let’s keep looking.”

He takes a few steps, scanning the rows, and his gaze falls on another pumpkin—rounder this time, but with a bit of a tilt to one side. He bends down to pick it up, then holds it out with a contemplative look.

“Hmm… how about this one? Good color, nice and round—”

“Nope!” Haru cuts him off, shaking her head with a serious frown. “It’s bumpy.”

Satoru sighs—a huff of a chuckle. He places the pumpkin back down with mock solemnity.

“Alright, alright. No bumps, no skinniness. Got it.”

Glancing back, he casts you a quick look—an amused twinkle in his eye as he mouths, she’s tough. Stifling a laugh, you sit back on a nearby hay bale, watching their search unfold with growing amusement. Haru’s standards have always been impressively high, and Satoru, is finally getting a taste of that.

As they wander a little farther down the row, Satoru’s gaze lands on another contender—a medium-sized pumpkin with a perfectly round shape and a smooth surface. Crouching down beside it, he inspects it with all the seriousness of a seasoned pumpkin picker, then holds it out, giving Haru a hopeful look.

“This one? Look, it’s perfectly round and no bumps in sight.”

Haru narrows her eyes, stepping forward and scrutinizing the pumpkin with an intensity that belies her age. A tiny, dramatic sigh escapes her as she shakes her head in disapproval.

“No, it’s not orange enough. Has to be super orange!”

“Super orange,” he echoes with a dramatic nod. “Of course. What was I thinking?” He places it back with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as he searches the rows—clearly determined not to give up.

Biting back a smile, you watch him crouch beside her yet again, leaning in close to match her intense expression. Then, he picks up another pumpkin and holds it out in front of her, trying to contain his hope.

“This one?” he asks, almost pleading.

Haru barely spares a second glance.

“Nope! The stem is too small.”

With a defeated sigh, Satoru watches as she continues her search, undeterred and unbothered by his less-than-stellar picks. After a moment, he walks back over to you and plops down on the hay bale—his shoulders slumping in mock exhaustion.

“Is there such a thing as a perfect pumpkin, or am I just doomed to fail here?”

You can’t help but grin—reaching over for his hand. As your fingers intertwine with his, you rest your head gently against his shoulder.

“Oh… I think there’s one out there somewhere,” you murmur, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t give up now, Mr. Gojo. Just think of this as your first lesson in pumpkin-picking perseverance.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest—low and warm.

“Perseverance, huh?” looking down at your joined hands, his thumb brushes tenderly over your fingers, before his gaze lifts to meet yours—there’s a softness in his eyes, a kind of warmth that feels as comfortable as the autumn sun. “Alright… if you believe in me, I guess I’ll keep trying. But if she shoots down one more pumpkin, I might need a pep talk.”

You laugh, giving his shoulder a playful nudge.

“I’ll be here, ready with all the encouragement you need. This is serious business, y’know.”

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but there’s a spark of determination there as he watches Haru continue her search with relentless focus.

“Serious business, huh?” he mutters, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well… far be it from me to let a toddler outdo me.”

Before you can respond, a delighted gasp cuts through the air.

“Mama! ‘toru! I found it!” eyes wide and sparkling, Haru points proudly at a pumpkin nestled snugly in the dirt.

The triumph in her voice makes Satoru’s eyes light up. Standing from the hay bale, his hands nestle into the pockets of his hoodie as he strides towards Haru, with you following closely behind.

“Really now? Let’s take a look at this prize pumpkin.”

Crouching down beside it, Satoru lifts the pumpkin carefully with both hands—as though it’s the crown jewel of the pumpkin patch. His brow furrows with an exaggerated seriousness as he turns it slowly, examining every curve and contour.

“Hmm… yes, I think you’re right,” he declares, voice thoughtful. “This is one smooth, super orange, pumpkin…and just look at that stem!” he taps the pumpkin’s top lightly and flashes Haru a crooked grin. “You’ve got a great eye, kiddo. I’d say you found the best one here.”

Haru’s face lights up with pride.

“Yay!! Look, Mama look!” she beams, her smile stretching from ear to ear—glowing with joy.

Crouching down beside her, you run your hand gently over the pumpkin’s surface. “Wow, sweetie—I love it. It’s absolutely perfect.”

You catch Satoru’s gaze holding yours for a moment—a soft smile stretching across his lips—and then, he reaches down to lift the pumpkin effortlessly—cradling it like a treasure.

“So… do we take it home now? Looks like we’ve got our perfect pumpkin, after all.”

You rise—shaking your head with a grin as you hold up a hand to pause him.

“Not so fast apprentice. You didn’t think we’d leave without experiencing the whole pumpkin patch, did you? C’mon, we’ll bring it up front, but check out later.”

Satoru chuckles, shifting the pumpkin under one arm as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. Guess I shouldn’t rush the experts,” his eyes shift to Haru and his smile softens. “So… what’s next on our agenda, sweetheart?”

ꨄ︎

As the three of you stroll hand in hand through the bustling market stalls, the air is rich with the warm aroma of spiced cider, caramel, and freshly baked treats. Each booth is piled high with autumn delights—jars of golden honey, hand-painted gourds nestled among small pumpkins, and cozy knit scarves draped invitingly over wooden displays.

But Satoru’s attention is instantly captivated by the booth ahead—his eyes brimming in boyish wonder as they land on a display of sweet treats.

“Is that cider? And caramel apples?” he exclaims. “Come on, we have to try these,” and he’s steering you both eagerly towards the booth—like a moth to a flame.

You blink—a little surprised by how openly delighted he is over something so simple. But soon, a warm smile breaks across your face, and you can’t help but chuckle softly while he tugs you along.

“You’re like a kid in a candy store right now.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he flashes you a grin so bright, it feels like a burst of sunlight breaking through the autumn clouds. His enthusiasm is contagious, and before you know it, you’re swept up in his excitement.

He eagerly orders three caramel apples and a steaming cup of cider to share. Then, turning back, he holds the treats up with a triumphant, radiant smile—gleaming with delight. Handing the first one to Haru, you watch as she sinks her small teeth into the sticky treat without hesitation.

“Mmm! Yummy!!” Caramel smears her cheeks, but she looks up at you both, absolutely beaming.

Satoru chuckles, reaching down to ruffle her hair fondly before turning back to you. With an exaggerated flourish, he extends a caramel apple in your direction—bowing slightly as he adopts a tone of mock chivalry.

“For you, my lady,” he says with a smirk.

Unable to hold back a grin, you roll your eyes at his theatrics—taking the apple from him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.”

As you bring the treat to your mouth, the rich sweetness clings to your lips in a sticky kiss. But you can’t resist glancing over at Satoru—and there he is, utterly lost in the simple pleasure of it. He bites into his own apple with unfiltered delight, like it’s the best thing he’s had all day.

A smile pulls at your lips as you watch him—licking a stray bit of caramel from his thumb. He’s entirely unbothered by the sticky mess, but then, as if feeling your gaze, he looks up—catching your eyes with a glint of amusement. A slow, satisfied grin spreads across his face, unashamed and utterly charming.

"I didn’t peg you as someone who’d go for something this messy," you tease, taking another bite of your apple as he shrugs.

“You say messy; I say worth it,” he counters.

Your eyes linger on a small smudge of caramel at the corner of his mouth, and without thinking, you reach out—brushing your thumb gently across his lips to clean it away. But just as you begin to pull your hand back, he captures your fingers—holding them in place while his gaze meets yours. His lips curl into a smirk that promises nothing but trouble, and a shiver tingles up your spine the moment he brings your thumb to his lips.

Slowly, deliberately, he closes his lips around your thumb—enveloping the sticky sweetness in his warm mouth while sucking it off with a teasing slowness—leaving you breathless.

“You’re impossible…” you mutter.

Releasing your digit with a soft, tantalizing pop—your breath hitches, and there’s a smug delight in the way he studies you, reveling in the effect he’s stirred within you.

“What can I say?” he hums, licking his lips with a casual ease. “Sweet things are my weakness.”

Your eyes are helplessly drawn to his lips—watching as his tongue glides over his bottom lip, catching the last traces of caramel. For a heartbeat, you can’t look away; his lips look even more tempting than the caramel itself, and something about his self-assured gaze has you feeling flustered and captivated all at once.

“Your weakness, huh?” you breathe, finally managing to lift your gaze back to his, trying to sound nonchalant. “Good to know… I’ll remember that next time you act like you’re above everyone else.”

A rich, low chuckle rumbles from his chest as he leans in, and the air around you crackles with anticipation as his gaze drops to your still sticky lips.

“You should,” he whispers, his eyes flicking back up to meet yours—a glint of mischief and something softer. “Especially since caramel apples aren’t my only weakness.”

Before you can even catch your breath, he leans in, bridging the small distance between you until his lips hover just a whisper away. His mouth brushes against yours, feather-light at first—a tentative, lingering touch that sends a shiver through you. Instinctively, you find yourself mirroring his movements, returning the kiss with gentle insistence.

As his hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb strokes a slow, comforting line along your cheek, grounding you, though his lips leave you feeling weightless. The kiss is a delicate dance, as intoxicating as it is tender, and you can taste the faint sweetness of caramel mingling with the warmth of him.

Pulling back, his warm breath mingles with your own as he rests his forehead gently against you. His eyes, soft and half-lidded, meet yours, and a small, satisfied smile tugs at his lips.

“You know…” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “you taste even better than the caramel.”

“Sweet talker…” you mumble, your cheeks warming under his gaze as his smirk widens.

“Mmm, but you’re the sweetest thing here,” he breathes, voice dropping as he draws close again. “But… I think I need another taste. Just to be sure.”

This time, his lips press with a deeper, more assured insistence, moving against yours in a rhythm of warmth and quiet intensity. A low hum of approval escapes him, vibrating softly against your lips, and his hand slides to the back of your neck—fingers weaving through your hair as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

But just as you begin to lose yourself in the moment, a small, determined voice slices through the quiet intimacy like a record scratch.

“Hey!” Haru scolds, stern and resolute. “Bad ‘toru! Don’t squish Mama!”

Startled, you both break apart, blinking at each other as you catch your breath. You turn to see Haru standing nearby, her little arms crossed over her chest as she fixes Satoru with an adorably fierce look. Her brows are furrowed in a way that would be intimidating—if she weren’t so tiny.

Oh, Haru.

You exchange a quick, sheepish glance with Satoru, and he lets out a quiet chuckle, reaching down to ruffle her hair in an attempt to defuse her stern gaze.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” he says, grinning. “Mama’s tougher than she looks.”

Wriggling out of his reach, she stomps her foot with a determined huff.

“That’s my Mama! You be nice, ‘kay?”

Satoru blinks—the corners of his mouth twitching up as he struggles to keep a straight face. Biting back a grin, he raises his hands in mock surrender.

“Right. You got it boss,” he nods solemnly. “I’ll be extra nice.”

There’s a brief pause as Haru narrows her eyes at Satoru.

“Promise ‘toru?”

“Promise.” He taps his chest for emphasis, as if making a sacred vow.

After a long, scrutinizing pause—deciding whether to take his promise seriously—Haru nods, a satisfied “hmmph” escaping her as she plops down beside you with her candy apple in hand.

“No more squishing,” she mumbles around a bite—keeping a wary eye on him.

That’s it—you can’t hold it in any longer. Laughter bubbles out of you, and Satoru glances up, catching your eye with a grin that’s equal parts amused and exasperated.

“Well…” he sighs, as if he’s been given the most impossible mission, “guess I’ve been told.”

ꨄ︎

As the three of you meander through the pumpkin patch, Haru skips along—tugging on your hands and pointing out each new discovery in delight—a scarecrow with a tilted hat, a butterfly fluttering briefly on a tall stalk of corn, a perfectly round pumpkin nestled under twisting vines.

Then, bouncing on her toes, she points toward a massive, lumbering tractor—its green paint chipped and worn, but still carrying an undeniable charm.

“Look, ‘toru! I wanna ride it!” she exclaims.

As Satoru’s eyes narrow on the rumbling machine, you can see the gears turning in his head. Him—a man of luxury and refinement, clambering onto a dusty old tractor?

But after one look at Haru’s eager face, his resolve crumbles.

And of course, moments later, he’s perched on a bale of hay—Haru bouncing with delight on his lap as the tractor lurches to life. The wheels crunch over the fallen leaves, and Haru chatters happily, pointing out every bump and turn in the ride—blissfully unaware of the incongruity of a billionaire on a hay bale.

After the bumpy ride, the petting zoo became Haru’s next paradise. Dashing from pen to pen, her tiny hands pressed against each fence—pointing at each animal with wide-eyed wonder—calling out, “Look, Mama! Look, ‘toru!”

Each discovery sends her gazing up at Satoru with curious eyes, expecting him to know everything about each creature, and he humors her with a quiet patience—kneeling down beside her to answer her endless questions with a tender fondness that tugs at your heart.

But as you’re savoring this rare, serene moment, you feel a subtle shift in the air. From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a woman a few feet away, dressed in a cozy autumn sweater and a scarf, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that spills over one shoulder. She’s dressed casual in appearance—completely harmless—but what unsettles you is the intensity in her gaze—a gaze that lingers on Satoru a bit too long.

At first, you try to brush it off. Maybe she’s just admiring him—after all, he’s breathtakingly attractive, and his presence has a way of turning heads even on his most inconspicuous days. But then, her expression shifts, morphing from idle admiration to something sharper.

Recognition.

Your heart sinks as you see her eyes widen, her mouth parting slightly in surprise. Holding your breath, you hope she’ll just let it go—that it’ll be a fleeting thought.

No such luck.

With a quick, subtle gesture, she nudges her friend beside her, her excitement barely contained. The friend follows her gaze, squinting slightly before her eyes, too, widen in realization. Their quiet murmurs are punctuated by eager glances your way, confirming your worst fear: they know who he is.

The comforting illusion of anonymity you’d clung to here—the precious notion that, for once, you could just be a regular family enjoying a simple day out—begins to fray at the edges, unraveling under the weight of their recognition. No matter how far you venture from the city, from his world of fame and fortune, it seems his reputation is impossible to outrun—constantly creeping back to claim him… to claim you.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly approach Satoru, who’s still kneeling by Haru as she excitedly babbles about the sheep. You crouch down beside him and gently place your hand on his shoulder—catching his attention. Turning to you, his expression softens at the sight of you—until he notices the concern in your eyes.

“They recognize you,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly toward the two women.

Following your glance, a shadow of something unreadable passes over his face as he takes in their intrigued, lingering stares, and for a moment, you feel the hopelessness creeping in—the reality that moments like these are fleeting—vulnerable to the slightest shift in attention.

But then, something shifts in Satoru’s expression—his gaze sharpening with determination as he catches sight of the disappointment settling in your eyes. Glancing around, he begins assessing the layout of the pumpkin patch—searching for an escape route.

Then, his gaze lands on it—a tall, winding corn maze, its entrance just a few yards away, partially hidden behind a cluster of hay bales.

Perfect.

Without a beat of hesitation, he leans in close to Haru—who’s blissfully caught up in a bunny nibbling on some hay.

“Agent Haru,” he intones with mock seriousness, “do you remember our mission?”

Haru’s head snaps up, her face lighting up instantly as she turns to him.

“Yeah!” she squeals, grinning with a spark of adventure.

“Good,” he nods, casting a quick, discreet glance toward the approaching women. “We need to escape without being spotted by those two ladies over there,” he gestures subtly, grinning. “Think you can handle it?”

Haru’s face scrunches up in concentration, and her tiny hands clench into fists as she straightens up. Her expression breaks into one of fierce determination—one that’s both adorable and earnest.

“Yes, ‘toru!” she whispers back, nodding.

With a reassuring smile, Satoru’s on his feet—taking your hand in one of his and Haru’s in the other.

“Hold on tight,” he quips, a smirk playing on his lips as the three of you dash toward the maze.

The moment you break into a run, Haru’s delighted giggles mix with the crunch of leaves underfoot, and soon you plunge into the tall, twisting rows of corn.

You steal a glance back towards the petting zoo, half-expecting to see the curious women following, but the corn closes in behind you like a cocoon, swallowing them from sight.

Satoru’s hand is warm around yours, grounding yet electrifying, and his laughter mingles with Haru’s squeals. With a sideways glance, his eyes meet yours and his grin is wide and exhilarating. Giving you a quick wink, he turns forward again, tugging you along as you dive deeper—daring you to keep up.

“Agent Haru, status report! Any enemies in sight?" he calls out in a mock-commanding tone.

Haru, bubbling with laughter, scans the rows of corn with exaggerated intensity—clutching his hand with fierce determination as her little legs pump as fast as they can.

"All clear ‘toru!" she yells back, brimming with excitement.

In that instant, the lingering worry, the quiet ache of reality, all of it dissolves into the thrill of escape—the magic of this moment. There’s no fame, no recognition, no judgement here; only the unrestrained joy of play, of racing through a maze as though the world is nothing but this stretch of golden corn and laughter.

You weave together through twists and turns—a blur of giggles and hurried footsteps until finally, you reach a small, secluded clearing tucked deep within the towering stalks.

Gasping for breath, you lean back against one of the tall stalks, and after a moment, you let yourself slide down to the ground—pulling your knees to your chest as you catch your breath, the crisp autumn air cooling your flushed cheeks.

Beside you, Satoru braces his hands on his knees, exhaling deeply before he follows your lead and sinks down onto the ground next to you. Though ahead, Haru seems immune to exhaustion. She’s already a few steps away, her eyes wide with wonder as she spots a butterfly lazily drifting through a patch of sunlight. Completely captivated, she crouches down, watching its gentle path—momentarily lost in her own little world.

Satoru’s eyes meet yours with a shared, silent thrill. Nudging your shoulder with his, a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Didn’t know a pumpkin patch would turn into a covert operation,” he exhales.

You laugh, breathlessly.

“Not exactly what I had in mind for a relaxing day out,” you give his knee an affectionate shove with yours. “But… I guess life with you is never boring.”

He chuckles, throwing his head back and gazing up at the autumn sky—a few streaks of orange and pink peeking through the corn tops.

“Well…” his eyes flicker to yours, sparkling with that familiar, teasing gleam. “You did sign up for the full Gojo experience. Adventures, paparazzi, occasional cornfield chases… it’s all part of the package sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

“Uh-huh, sure, sure. I just thought it would involve more champagne and less running,” you quip, nudging him playfully.

“Oh, you want champagne?” he grins, raising an eyebrow in mock challenge. “You sure you can handle it? Remember that first charity gala? You were practically clinging to me by the end of the night.”

Your cheeks flush at the memory, and you laugh, slightly flustered.

“Okay, but did you expect me to be completely unfazed? My first gala, fancy dresses, and…"

The words die on your lips—the memory of that night creeping in; the low lights, the glint of champagne glasses, and then… that kiss. Your first kiss—with Satoru.

A kiss that was completely under the guise of putting on a show for Naoya… though let’s be real, it was anything but pretend.

Satoru’s eyes light up with interest as he catches your hesitation, his smirk widening like a cat about to pounce.

“Go on. Fancy dresses and… what, exactly?” he prompts, a playful drawl.

As he tilts his head with that infuriatingly charming glint in his eye, you know, that he knows, exactly what you were thinking. Ugh. He can be infuriating.  

Your cheeks burn as you try to wave it off.

“Nothing! Just… the whole night was… overwhelming,” you mumble, trailing off as you divert your gaze.

A low, amused hum escapes him—rumbling through his chest as his knowing look revels in your embarrassment.

“Overwhelming, huh?” he echoes, grin widening. “Interesting choice of words… considering you were the one who practically jumped me in front of your ex.”

With an exasperated groan, you roll your eyes in protest.

“Well, what can I say?” you sigh, feigning indifference as you rest your head on your knees. “Drastic times called for drastic measures.”

“Mmm-hmm, sure, keep telling yourself that,” he chuckles—dropping his head to rest against his own knees. You hold your breath as his blue eyes catch yours with a quiet, teasing intensity. “But… I’m pretty sure you just couldn’t resist me…” his crooked grin grows, “after all, that kiss was all you.”

You scoff, your cheeks heating as you stretch your legs—trying to hide your amusement. “I think you’re misremembering things. If anything, you were the one clinging to me.”

His laughter spills out, rich and unrestrained. With a content sigh, he follows your movements, stretching out beside you.

“Sure, sure. Believe what you want, sweetheart.”

The comfortable silence settles over you, and you find yourself glancing back to where Haru is still entranced by a butterfly drifting through the sunlight, her face lit with pure wonder.

She’s so… happy. And that fills you with a deep, quiet gratitude. Moments like these are what you’ve always wanted for her. It’s what she deserves, and it warms your heart to know you’re able to give her a day like this.

A sigh escapes your lips, and your voice softens into a gentle murmur as you nod in her direction.

“For a minute there… I really thought we’d have to cut the day short.”

Satoru’s gaze flickers over to Haru, a fond smile softening his expression before he turns back to you. Without a word, he reaches for your hand—fingers intertwining with yours, steady and grounding.

“Nah,” he murmurs, quietly but firmly. “Not a chance. Nothing’s cutting this short. Todays about you and Haru.”

A warmth blooms in your chest, melting away any lingering traces of tension as his words sink in, wrapping around your heart like a gentle embrace. You smile, squeezing his hand in return.

“Just us, huh?” you whisper.

“Just us,” he echoes, brushing your knuckles with his thumb.

Then, with a soft sigh and a playful glint in his eye, he unclasps your hand to raises both hands to his mouth, calling out to Haru.

“Hey, Agent Haru!” he shouts, “Ready to finish our mission?”

Haru’s head snaps up, her eyes bright with excitement. She breaks into a grin and dashes over, grabbing each of your hands with her small, eager fingers.

“Yay!! C’mon mama, ‘toru! Let’s go!!”

ꨄ︎

As the golden light of early evening filters through the trees, the day is winding down, and the three of you start making your way back toward the entrance—weaving through the brightly colored stalls—each one bathed in the honeyed light of sunset.

But then, just as you reach the last stretch of the path, a delighted squeal breaks Haru’s focus the moment her gaze lands on a large, freshly raked pile of leaves just off to the side—a mound of vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows stacked high like a miniature mountain waiting to be conquered. Without a second thought, she breaks free from Satoru’s hand—dashing toward the pile with uncontainable excitement.

Zeroing in on the pile, she abruptly halts—her tiny form silhouetted against the colorful heap. You watch curiously as she glances back over her shoulder—her eyes alight with mischief and her cheeks flushed pink from the chill in the air.

Beaming with the thrill of discovery, she flings herself into the pile—a burst of leaves scattering around her in a vibrant whirlwind as she bursts into a fit of giggles.

“‘toru, look, look!” she calls out, peeking up from within the pile. “Come play, ‘toru! Come play!”

Satoru stops, watching her with a raised brow and an amused grin. He chuckles softly, though you can hear the reluctance coloring his tone. Diving headfirst into a pile of leaves? Clearly, that’s a foreign concept for Satoru Gojo—it’s more of that childlike wonder he missed out on.

Noticing his hesitance, you step up beside him—giving him a teasing nudge with your shoulder.

“C’mon ‘toru, afraid of a few leaves? Don’t tell me the ‘perfect’ Mr. Gojo is worried about getting a little dirt on him?”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes—though a smile is already tugging at his lips.

“Afraid? Me?” his hands burrow into his hoodie pocket as he casts you a sideways glance. “Hardly. I’m just… y’know… assessing the situation.”

Biting back a grin, you begin to take a few slow, deliberate steps backwards—inching toward the pile where Haru is waiting as your eyes hold his with a silent dare.

“Assessing, huh?” you raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Mmm… I dunno, sounds like stalling to me. Come on, live a little, Mr. Gojo.”

He smirks, but before he can respond, you twirl around and dive into the pile beside Haru—scattering a burst of leaves around you. Your laughter blends with Haru’s giggle as you sink into the softness, and immediately, she reaches for a handful of leaves—tossing them up in the air so they flutter down like confetti.

Satoru tilts his head, grinning but not budging as the kaleidoscope of autumn colors rain down upon you both. But Haru? She’s not about to let him sit this one out.

Peeking over her shoulder, her eyes immediately set back on Satoru, and her expression morphs into one of adorable determination.

“’toooooru,” she whines, wide eyes practically glowing with hope. “Pleeease. Come play!”

Oh, Haru. He’s powerless against her persistence—and perhaps, against the joy that radiates from the two of you in that pile of leaves. With a theatrical sigh and a reluctant grin, he finally pulls his hands from his pockets.

“Alright, alright,” he mutters, mostly to himself, and makes his way towards the leaf pile.

Standing at the edge of the pile, he kneels down to brush his hand over the crisp leaves—and then, with a sudden burst of resolve and dramatic flair, he lets himself fall back into the pile—flopping down as the leaves scatter around him. Haru wastes no time throwing herself on top of him.

An exaggerated grunt slips through Satoru’s lips, and Haru bursts into laughter as her small hands begin to bury him under a layer of vibrant foliage.

“Oh no!” he lets out a mock gasp as she buries him deeper. “I’m being buried alive! Save me!”

Haru’s laughter bubbles up, uncontrollable and infectious, as she adds even more leaves. “Stay still!” she scolds through her giggles, patting the leaves around his arms. “Don’t move, ‘toru!

“So, I’m supposed to just lie here and accept my fate, huh?” he huffs in defeat and glances up at her with wide eyes. “Are you sure this isn’t some secret plan to take me out?”

“Shhh!” she grins, putting a finger to his lips. “Magic leaves.”

“Oh, magic leaves? Well, why didn’t you say so?” his eyes glint with amusement as he lies still, trying to keep a straight face, though the laughter in his voice betrays him.

Haru continues to stack leaves atop him with a determined precision, until for a moment, she pauses—her eyes narrowing with that familiar glimmer of mischief yet again, as if she’s calculating her next move. Then suddenly, with a burst of energy, she tackles him with all her might—giggling as she sends the carefully arranged pile of leaves flying in every direction.

“Oh, it’s on!” Satoru laughs, his own grin widening as he grabs a handful of leaves to fling back at her. “You think you can get me like that, huh?”

In an instant, they’re caught in a whirlwind of laughter and autumn leaves. Seated nearby, you observe their playful battle unfold—Haru shrieking with joy as she ducks and scrambles to gather more ammunition. The warmth in your chest blossoms, and you feel almost entranced by the sight before you.

As Satoru’s deep, unrestrained laughter blends with Haru’s giggles, you realize in this moment just how rare it is to see him like this—completely carefree and unguarded. Gone is the man who must always play his part. Gone is the man who so often conceals his true self beneath layers of poise and duty. Here, with Haru, he is simply Satoru—someone who can laugh until he’s breathless and lose himself in a child’s game without a care.

You wonder how many other moments like this he’s missed—the boyish enthusiasm makes it seem almost as if he, too, is experiencing this kind of carefree fun for the first time. And that alone makes this moment feel so precious—something you wish you could capture and keep forever—suspended in time.

He deserves to feel this light, this unburdened.

“Okay, okay! I surrender!” he finally laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat before collapsing back into the pile—his chest rising and falling with exhilarated breaths as Haru cheers in victory.

“Gotcha, ‘toru!” she declares proudly—triumphantly piling more leaves on him. “You’re a leaf monster!”

Satoru chuckles, brushing a stray leaf off his nose as he props himself up slightly. “A leaf monster?” his eyes gleam playfully. “Well… you better be careful then—I might come back with vengeance.”

She squeals with laughter and her eyes sparkle with excitement as she scrambles to her feet. “Ahhh! Go away ‘toru!” she shrieks—darting away to dive into another pile of leaves nearby.

Watching her go, Satoru’s expression softens—a peaceful sigh slipping past his lips as he takes a moment to catch his breath. “She’s got endless energy, doesn’t she?” he murmurs, tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

Your heart flutters at the warmth in his eyes, and you lean back on your hands, letting your own smile mirror his as you watch Haru’s figure disappear into another pile of leaves. “She does,” you breathe softly. “But… I think you’re doing a pretty good job keeping up.”

A quiet hum of contentment escapes him, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. Almost instinctively, he shifts closer, letting his head nestle in your lap as he leans back into the leaves.

“Maybe…” he trails off into a lazy, satisfied sigh. “But I think I’ll take a break right here… if that’s okay.”

As the dappled sunlight filters through the golden autumn leaves above, it casts soft shadows across his face—illuminating the gentle warmth in his eyes. Your heart swells at the sight, and without a word, you reach out—threading your fingers through his hair, each strand slipping through your fingertips, softer than you expected. He hums, sinking into your touch, his eyes drifting shut as a slow, contented smile spreads across his lips.

Around you, the world seems to quiet, holding its breath. Haru’s distant giggles mingle with the soft rustling of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of peace.

“You know…” you murmur, “I think this is my favorite side of you.”

His eyes flutter open, a flicker of surprise giving way to something unguarded and vulnerable. Slowly, a tender smile forms on his lips as he reaches up, brushing his hand gently against yours.

“Yeah?” he drawls, “Didn’t know I had a ‘favorite side.’”

“You do…” your fingers trace gentle circles through his hair, savoring the feel of each delicate touch. “It’s the side where you don’t have to be anything but… here, with us.”

For a heartbeat, he’s utterly still, as if each word you’ve spoken has wrapped itself around his heart. His gaze deepens, and your breath catches—it’s like he’s seeing you in a way that reaches beyond words. Gently, his hand comes up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear—his fingertips grazing your cheek with a touch so tender it makes your heart ache.

“Guess I didn’t know I could just… be that,” he whispers.

You lift your hand, covering his and pressing it to your cheek. “Well, you can. With us, you always can.”

His gaze holds yours, something vulnerable yet content in his eyes, but then, as if unable to help himself, the warmth shifts into a familiar glint—a spark of playfulness creeping back into his expression. “Alright, alright…” he lets out an exaggerated sigh, “let’s not get too sentimental. I gotta keep up my ‘mysterious’ reputation, remember?”

A laugh spills from you, light and unrestrained, as you roll your eyes in amusement. “Oh, you’re plenty mysterious. Half the time, I still can’t tell if you’re serious or just messing with me.”

He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, leaning back further into your lap as if he’s completely relaxed—the picture of contentment.

“You should know by now…” he murmurs, feigning seriousness as he closes his eyes, “…it’s usually both.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, barely hiding the smirk he’s trying to restrain, and you can’t help but shake your head, grinning at his theatrics.

“Well… for the record,” your voice naturally softens, “I think a little tenderness suits you.”

One eye flicks open at your words, his brow quirking as he regards you with amused curiosity. Closing his eye again, his smirk deepens as he nestles further into your lap.

“Oh, does it?” he murmurs lazily, but there’s no mistaking the glint of interest coloring his tone.

“Yup,” you reply, leaning back on your hands and glancing up at the sky with feigned indifference. “I dunno… it’s kinda cute, actually.”

The words slip out like a quiet confession, and you notice the shift in him immediately—a subtle but unmistakable change.

Unable to keep up his act any longer, a bright, satisfied grin breaks across his face as he sits up—lifting his head from your lap—and his fingers slip through yours, intertwining and pulling you near him.

“Cute?” his voice drops as he brings his face achingly close to yours. “Careful now… saying things like that? You’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

You feel your heart pounding—the thrill of his closeness electrifying as his breath fans your skin, but you hold his gaze boldly with a smirk.

“Well, maybe I like a little trouble,” you whisper back.

A playful growl rumbles in his chest, his smirk deepening as he tightens his grip on your intertwined hands.

“Oh… now you’re really asking for it. You’re officially in trouble.”

In one swift motion, he wraps his arms around you—sending you both tumbling back into the soft bed of leaves. The world around you blurs into a whirl of amber and gold as laughter escapes your lips, filling the crisp autumn air. But as you settle, your laughter fades, leaving only a quiet, shared breath between you and a gentle smile lingering on both your faces.

Hovering above you, his gaze softens as the leaves cradle you beneath their rustling blanket. It’s as though he’s committing every detail to memory as his eyes trace each curve and contour of your face, and you take in a quiet breath as his hand finds its way up your cheek—brushing over your skin and making you melt under his touch.

“Gotcha,” he whispers, brushing his nose gently against yours.

A quiet gasp slips past your lips, your pulse quickening as his proximity becomes all-consuming. Still, you muster a playful eye-roll, though the warmth in your gaze betrays your affection.

“Is this your idea of ‘assessing the situation,’?”

“Absolutely,” he murmurs, eyes softening. “God, you’re beautiful…”

The sincerity in his voice leaves you breathless, and a warmth blooms in your cheeks that reaches all the way to your heart. Before you can respond, he closes the distance—his lips capturing yours in a kiss so soft, so achingly tender, it leaves you dizzy.

As he deepens the kiss, a soft sigh escapes you, your fingers finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. Each brush of his lips is slow, deliberate—and everything else fades into nothingness, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the press of his lips, and the steady rhythm of your heartbeats entwined.

But just as you’re about to melt entirely into him, a tiny voice breaks through the haze of warmth and closeness.

“Hey!” Haru’s voice calls out, stern and unwavering. “Bad ‘toru!”

Pulling back, Satoru groans softly, chuckling under his breath. His gaze flicks to Haru, who stands with her hands on her hips, looking every bit the tiny but fierce protector. He drops his head in defeat, shooting you a look of amused resignation.

“Well, looks like we’ve been caught,” he whispers, brushing a stray leaf from your hair with a soft, lingering touch.

You stifle a laugh, trying to keep your composure as you glance back at Haru.

“We should probably get back to her before she starts scolding you again,” you sigh, rising to your feet with his help.

“Yeah, I don’t think I can handle another ‘squishing’ intervention,” he mutters, intertwining his fingers with yours as you both walk back to Haru, who’s watching the two of you with narrowed, all-seeing eyes.

With the sun dipping lower in the sky, it paints the fields in shades of amber and gold. The three of you make your way back toward the entrance of the pumpkin patch—Haru skipping along, her small hands clasped in both of yours as she chatters excitedly about everything she saw—even as the day winds down.

But as you approach the entrance, ready to leave this little haven of laughter and leaves behind, a quiet warmth settles in your chest—a feeling that this moment, this fleeting, joyful day with the people you cherish most, is a memory you’ll carry with you. This is your little family, and it’s worth all the chases, all the whispers, all the adventures.

For now, that’s all that matters.

thanks for reading this special little fall chapter! satoru is such a cutie pie with haru 🥹 i really wanted to have this out before october ended, but alas, my perfectionism kept holding me back 😅 anyways, ch 7 is indeed in the works—that'll be my next post, and it will be out by the end of this month. i appreciate you all being so patient, hope you had a lovely halloween 🎃 -aly 💛

taglist:

@geniejunn @fortunatelyfurrygiver @rosso-seta @acowboykisser @mikyapixie

@shokosbunny @fire-child-kira @aluvrina @laviefantasie @kurookinnie

@poopypipi @painted-hills @stillserene @mira-lol @k-kkiana

@sebastianlover @blueberrysungie @kalulakunundrum @doireallyhavetonamthis @lingophilospher

@ichikanu @artist1936 @christianacj27 @watermelon-online @jkbangtan7

@angelina7890 @aruraa @han11dh @jonesmelodys @k1ttybean

@a-trashbag @jotarohat @khaleesihavilliard @tsukistopglazer @elliesndg

@maskedpacific @that-redheadd @lovelyartemisa @eolivy

@valleydoli @voids-universe @sukunadckrider @aishies-stuff

@saccharine-nectarine @ilianasau @pinksaiyans @gojoslefttoenail

[autumnscribbles]

come back | r.c

summary: you and rafe get into a fight on a night out, when you’re left to find your own way home, you find yourself in a bad position

warnings: drinking, creepy men, i think that’s about it

wc: 2k

a/n: my first official rafe fic!!! thank you so much to the person who sent in this request, i’m a little rusty but had so much fun writing this! pls send more :) enjoy

~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

You let out a loud laugh as JJ continued to tell you one of the most ridiculous stories you’ve ever heard. Between fits of laughter, you took small sips from your red solo cup. You were starting to feel tipsy, the alcohol coursing through you. It made everything funnier, and you found yourself leaning in towards JJ, unable to control your laughter. You clutched your stomach as he laughed along with you, his own laughter triggered by how much you were laughing. It was always an endless cycle with JJ, when one of you started to laugh, it was over.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” you hiccuped, as you stared down at the empty cup in your hand.

JJ patted your leg and nodded at you before you stood up, making your way over to the table where the drinks were. The room spun slightly around you as you clumsily poured yourself another drink. You were mixing it yourself, and chuckled at how heavy handed your pour was. You tilted your head back as you took a sip, nodding to yourself in approval.

As you turned around to head back to the couch you were sitting on, you bumped into a familiar chest. You looked up at your boyfriend, smiling drunkenly at him.

“Hey! There you are!” you cheered, leaning your head on Rafe’s chest as you inhaled his familiar scent.

“Took you long enough,” he scoffed, stepping to the side and approaching the same table you were just walking away from.

“What does that mean?” you asked, furrowing your brows as you took another sip.

“It means you should probably lay off the liquor and maybe don’t hang all over JJ like an idiot,” he retorted, his eyes glued to the table in front of him.

You thought it was hypocritical, him telling you to stop drinking as he poured himself another rum and coke. He drank as much as he wanted, whenever he wanted and you never said a word to him about it. JJ had been your friend since childhood, your family taking him in when he had no one else. You grew up together. Your friendship would always be special.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered under your breath as you walked away from him, going back towards JJ.

“Running back to him?” Rafe called out to you.

You turned around, seeing his bright blue eyes darken as he looked at you. His jaw twitched as he clenched it. You knew he was biting his tongue. Holding himself back from saying something he would really regret.

“You know what Rafe? You’re childish. JJ is my friend, and you know it. Maybe you should stop drinking and you wouldn’t be so fucking delusional,” you bit back.

Rafe rolled his eyes and you walked back over to JJ, plopping on the couch beside him again. He looked concerned as he asked you if everything was okay. You assured him you were perfect, and tapped your cup against his as a cheers.

You ignored Rafe as you saw him walk passed you, not even sparing you a glance. You knew you upset him, and that he was bothered. For once, you didn’t care enough to do anything until you got home. You didn’t want to cause a scene, and more importantly, wanted to have fun with your friends.

After a few rounds of pong with John B, Pope, JJ, and Kie, the alcohol was really getting to your head. You realized you hadn’t seen Rafe since your argument, anXd thought maybe you should look for him.

“I’m gonna get some air and look for Rafe,” you said to your friends, voice raised to be heard over the music. They nodded at you before setting up for another game.

You weaved through drunk, sweaty bodies before stepping outside. You breathed in the fresh air, closing your eyes as everything spun.

“You should lay off the liquor,” you muttered to yourself as you stumbled down the front steps.

You assumed Rafe would be outside. He usually stepped out for air when things were tense between you. He used it as a way to calm down. You were surprised when you didn’t find him.

You glanced down the street full of parked cars. You couldn’t spot Rafe’s truck. Did he leave? Would he? You felt tears springing to your eyes, suddenly feeling guilty for what you said to him. You pulled out your phone, calling him. It rang and rang, but eventually left you on voicemail. You shot him a quick text before sitting on the steps, spinning head in your hands.

“Hey…” you heard an unfamiliar voice behind you.

You looked over your shoulder to see someone you didn’t recognize. Obviously a kook, based on the polo shirt and khaki pants he had on. You had never seen him at one of these parties before. Or maybe, you just never recognized him.

“Hey,” you muttered, pulling out your phone to see if Rafe answered.

“Lost your boyfriend?” he asked, sitting down comfortably beside you. You felt yourself slide over, wanting distance from him.

“No,” you shook your head. “Just waiting for him.”

“Don’t think he’s coming back, sweetheart. I saw him get in his truck,” he chuckled. “I could drive you home though.”

“I’m good,” you answered shortly.

You stood up, taking a second to regain your balance. You had to go home. To find Rafe. You realized you didn’t have the keys to your place. Rafe had them. You came together and were going to leave together. You guessed you’d just knock until he answered once you got there.

You knew you should tell your friends you were leaving, but in a drunken haze you were too focused to go back inside. You’d just text them later.

The boy on the stairs was in a conversation with a clone of himself, so you started walking. The cool evening hair sent a slight chill down your spine, your shoulders exposed. You tried to walk as quickly as possible without falling.

When you heard footsteps behind you, you reluctantly decided to look behind you. You were surprised to find the boy from the stairs and his friend walking a few paces behind you.

You felt your heartbeat pick up a bit, your hand clutching your phone tightly, willing Rafe to call. You took a turn, and realized they were not too far behind you. Enough distance to try to make it seem like they weren’t following you, but you knew.

You decided you’d take the short cut. You had to go through the woods, but it wasn’t too far. The boys behind you wouldn’t know the path, even if they saw you turn off. You’d just run, you thought to yourself.

As you dashed quickly into the woods, your breath was loud in your ears. You were trying not to panic. You would be fine. You heard the footsteps behind you, branches cracking under their feet as their pace picked up. You’d run as far as you could.

Eventually, you slowed down, catching your breath. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to listen for the boys following you. Your heart beat hard in your ears as you took deep breaths. You didn’t hear them anymore. You were in the clear.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and flashed the light, realizing you had no idea where you ended up. You were surrounded by trees, no path in sight.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You started walking where you thought you had come from, hoping to end up back on the path. You’d tripped over something, landing harshly on the hard ground. You hissed in pain as tears started filling your eyes.

You dialled JJ, thinking maybe you had a better chance of reaching him. No answer. You tried Rafe again, and again, and again.

The third time, he picked up. His voice choppy on the other line because of the bad service.

“Rafe?” you cried, overjoyed that he answered. “I need help I-I was walking home and I cut through the woods to get home but I’m lost.”

“Y/N?” Rafe answered. “Where are you?”

“The woods, I-I don’t know where exactly. Please help me, baby,” you cried.

You couldn’t hear his reply as the call dropped. You cursed under your breath again as you began to cry. You didn’t even know if Rafe heard you. You felt yourself starting to crash, the adrenaline wearing off and the effects of the alcohol hitting you all at once. You felt your eyes flutter shut, and succumbed to the exhaustion.

You eyes opened again to a faint sound in the distance. You sat up, disoriented, your head pounding behind your eyes. You winced as you tried to figure out how much time had passed.

You heard a voice in the distance, and as it approached you realize they were calling your name.

Rafe.

He came.

“Rafe!” you screamed as loud as you could, trying to signal to him where you were.

You heard his footsteps pick up as they got closer, and you kept calling out. Eventually he was in front of you, crouch down as his hands cradled your face.

“Baby, oh my god,” he breathed. “I’ve been looking for you, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry I acted like a bitch,” you cried, falling into his chest. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“Shhh I shouldn’t have left you there. I was a fucking asshole. I’m so sorry. What if something happened to you?” he rambled, holding you close.

“These guys were following me so I cut through the woods. I tried to get away,” you breathed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What? Who?” he asked angrily.

“Doesn’t matter,” you sighed. “I just wanna go home.”

*

Rafe brought you inside and into the bathroom, turning the light on.

“You’re hurt,” he whispered. There was a cut down your leg, bleeding from when you tripped. You were covered in dirt, leaves, and branches.

“It doesn’t hurt,” you told him.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry baby, I can’t say it enough.”

He turned the shower on, the steam starting to fill the room. He helped you gently peel off your clothes and step in, where he joined behind you. He rinsed off all the dirt and blood, and gently massaged your head with shampoo to wash out the dirt. You began uncontrollably sobbing as the warm water fell down your body, and you were so worn out you didn’t even know why anymore.

Rafe dressed you into your favorite pyjamas and brought you to bed, tucking you in gently. All while whispering that you were okay, that he was sorry, and that he loved you. He set down a glass of water beside you, urging you to drink it.

“Do you need anything? Are you hungry? Cold?” he asked.

You shook your head, reaching your arms out to him. He fell on the bed beside you as you lay on his chest, his heart beat faster than normal.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered to him, your eyes beginning to close. “I’m okay.

“I don’t know how I can forgive myself,” he said. “What if those guys..” he stopped himself before continuing. He didn’t want to voice what he was thinking. It was unimaginable.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, or walked away when you were clearly upset. It was stupid,” you muttered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered. “I was just being jealous and stupid. I overreacted.”

“As always,” you chuckled, making the corners of his mouth turn up.

He watched as your eyes began closing, your previously stressed out facial expression smoothing out.

“Just rest, baby,” he cooed as he rubbed his hand along your back. “I won’t leave you again.”

You finally gave in to your exhaustion, just happy to be safe and warm in Rafe’s arms. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, or anything that happened. All that mattered was you were safe. You were okay.

He came back. He would always come back.

[lebensmudewing]

This is worse

Trigger warning: birthing fetish

My birth video ended up on a fetish subreddit because of my husband

Throwaway. Although my husband will probably see this here anyway. Maybe this can be the conversation starter?? I don't know! I just need to get this out somewhere and have people validate that my feelings aren't crazy!

I'm sorry if this is all over the place. I am a mess.

My (F33) husband (M36) is the most wonderful and caring person I've ever met in my life. I thought. Almost overbearingly sweet. He's always concerned with how I'm doing, how I'm feeling, how is my mental health. He's an excellent father to our two children as well.

I had a difficult birth with my first child. My hospital experience was bad. I felt traumatized afterwards. When I got pregnant with my second, I knew that, barring any issues, I wanted a homebirth. My husband was all for it. He's a nurse, so I felt doubly safe with him plus my midwife to support me.

The midwife filmed and we also had a professional photographer taking pictures. Everything went great. It was so emotional and beautiful. I'm trying not to give too many details away since it's apparently available to ANYONE for their viewing pleasure right now.

I have been pretty possessive of that birth tape. I never uploaded it anywhere. After I downloaded it onto my computer from our camera's sim card, I uploaded it to a USB, deleted it off my computer, and I keep it in a little "hope chest" to watch when I'm feeling sentimental. It is so beautiful and important to me, and I wasn't interested in sharing it. I have several friends who put their whole birth on YouTube, but I wasn't interested in doing that. My birth didn't need to be shared with the world. It didn't need to be a teaching moment. It didn't need to exist to make others feel better. After my traumatic first birth, it was mine and i cherished it.

My husband didn't feel the same way and sometimes had light arguments with me about it. He was never pushy, but several times, when I would watch it, he would comment "this is such an excellent birth video! You are so happy and calm! I really think you should post this. Homebirths get such a bad rep and this could put so many women at ease." I would tell him absolutely not. This is private. Stop pestering me about it. Its my body. He eventually dropped it and hasn't brought it up since.

My husband and I have never been controlling. We don't have the passwords to each other's phones. I've never felt the need to check each other's phones or computers. I trust him implicitly. Well. I did anyway. I know he has a reddit. We both reddit pretty often. But i don't know his profile or what he does on here. Idk I've just never thought about it.

A few days ago, I was in one of my parenting subreddits and came across a disturbing thread about birth videos getting posted nonconsenually in a birth fetish subreddit. I thought to myself, that is exactly the reason I didn't want to post my birth video. The commenter posted the link to the fetish sub and I'll admit curiosity got the better of me and I went to look. I wanted to know if any of my friends videos wound up there so that I could tell them.

Well their videos DID wind up there. Every single one. The sub has several vast g drives linked to birth videos. But then I saw it. MY FUCKING BIRTH VIDEO. It looked like it had been a YouTube video at one point?? Idk I don't understand how this works. I cant find it on youtube anywhere, so idk. I'm so fucking ashamed and horrified. There is a closeup of...well EVERYTHING down there in a fucking fetish site. My baby taking his first breaths. Me breastfeeding. It doesn't even cut off after the birth. It shows my baby getting weighed, and just...held. If this is a birth fetish sub, why does it feature so much of just...my CHILD. This seems like waaayyyy more than just a birth fetish thing. Idek how to report the video.I reported the post and reddit says it doesn't violate anything.

I am bawling as I type this. Like wtf. Only ONE person knows where that tape is: my fucking husband. I don't even know how to broach this subject with him.

"Hey did you fucking violate my privacy and post OUR BABY'S BIRTH ONLINE, or did you submit it straight to a fetish site, because that's where it is right now."

I don't know what to do. I can't believe I even have to have this discussion. Wtf even if he didn't submit that video straight to the fetish site, he uploaded it somewhere else where they found it, and now his actions have led to THIS situation. He exposed ME to perverts online. He exposed our newborn infant to perverts online!!!

Our marriage will NOT survive this and I am a wreck. I should have known he had SICK intentions when he was being so weird about wanting me to post this. WHY? WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?? I'm not even that angry about those sickos seeing me, but every time I think of my sweet little baby's face in there...I feel like I'm going to throw up. Surely this is illegal?? Surely newborn babies can't be featured in content that people are...sexualizing!!! Can they?? I'm also just....absolutely gutted by the fact that so many other women have had this special moment bastardized by that sub. How many of them are in my shoes? Or my friends shoes. I'm horrified. Do I press charges against my husband?? I can't believe this is how my family is going to end. What will I even tell people. What will I tell my kids!!? Idek what to do!!

TLDR: Husband posted birth video online and it wound up on a fetish site. I don't know what to do.

Update: just a quick update. I left and took the kids to my mom's house. Idk how long we'll be here. I didn't tell my husband anything. I just wanted to get the kids the fuck away from him. Even if he didn't share that video directly with those creeps, I don't want him around them.

TLDR: Husband posted birth video online and it wound up on a fetish site. I don't know what to do.

Update to: birth video in a fetish subreddit

I just...need to vent I guess. This isn't a happy update.

As I mentioned in my last post, I went over to my mom's house. She was bewildered about why I was there. I couldn't fess up to the reason why I was so upset. I am still so embarrassed. I didn't want her to go looking for the damn video either. Thinking of my mom searching around a porn sub to find my BIRTH VIDEO made my skin crawl. I was hysterical. Still am. I couldn't really hide that. I just told her something bad had happened and we needed to stay for awhile. I'm going to have to tell her, but every time I think about doing it, I just start crying more. The situation is even more complicated now, so I'm just scared people will be mad at me for doing what I'm doing, even my own mom.

My husband called and texted over and over for hours. We haven't spent a night apart in years. I gave him no warning. I texted him once and said we were visiting my mom and would be back later, but that I needed a break. I was worried he'd call the police, but he didn't. He continued to text sporadically, pleading with me to talk with him about what was wrong.

I went back over to our house the next day around the time I figured he'd be off work. I took one of my mom's old phones and used it to record our whole interaction. Turns out he'd called out of work he was so distressed. He ran up to me and immediately started asking what was wrong, asking where the kids were etc. He was SO understandably upset. Seeing him like that just made me start crying too. When I started crying, he started crying. He tried to hug me and I stepped away which just made him more upset. It was such a mess. I was finally able to compose myself enough to ask him to watch a video on my phone. He was confused. More so when he realized it was my birth video. A few minutes in, he interrupted to ask why I was showing him. I ended the video, and a hundred other birth videos in the g file folder appeared. He still just looked confused. I exited the folder and pointed to the name of the sub I was in. He took my phone for a better look and I just started  bawling and bawling. After a few minutes, he started raging about how we needed to mass report the post and call the FBI and blah blah blah. He kept repeating "we'll fix this. Holy fuck. This is so sick." I tried to get his attention by asking "how did they get that video?" But he just kept pacing around ranting. I just started repeating over and over "how did they get it!?" Until I was screaming at the top of my lungs. He eventually stopped and just stared at me. Neither of us said anything for a long time.

He started crying and told me that he had started a "Daddy Blog" a year after our first was born. He posted about being a dad and eventually about his experience with my second pregnancy. He had posted the video on youtube to link to his blog. He felt like there wasnt enough resources out there for dads regarding pregnancy. He didn't know I didn't want it posted until a week or two after baby was here and I was so vehement about not posting it and getting it tucked securely away on a usb. It was up for about TEN fucking months before he finally took it down. He was waiting to see if I changed my mind, and was reluctant to remove it because he'd received so many messages from thankful dads about how educational and helpful his blog/vlogging was. I had 0 knowledge about this blog. I didnt even know people blogged anymore?? We had both expressed many times how we didn't want to create a massive digital footprint for our children because of SITUATIONS JUST LIKE FUCKING THIS, so I this is such a fucking weird surprise. There's hundreds of pictures of our family on this thing.

Anyway, we got into a huge argument about how this was a breech of trust and privacy. He maintained that he thought my reaction about not wanting the video posted was over the top, and how I never told him I didn't want to share it, how he didn't even think of it as a big deal because he deals with that kind of thing every day so it was just not a big deal to him and blah blah blah. His excuses were stupid and I don't care. My birth wound up on a fetish subreddit because of him and we are getting a divorce.

When I told him it was over, we had another big screaming match. He went through several different emotions. Crying, wailing, begging, and finally anger. I hadn't said ANYTHING about custody arrangements, or my plans besides divorce, but he started threatening full custody and how he was going to put up a huge fight, how it would just be "he said/she said," how he has the better job, etc. Whatever. I didn't tell him I recorded anything (legal in our state). I eventually just walked out.

So yeah. That's where I'm at today. I need to consult with a lawyer about what comes next. I am moving as quickly as I possibly can. Sitting down to write this update was probably a stupid move, but I received SO many heartfelt messages from people concerned for me that it felt necessary. I honestly just...needed to vent and have people tell me I'm not crazy or awful for doing what I'm doing. I told a few friends, and they all just seem...weird. They're concerned about the videos I found in the fetish group, but nobody has reassured me that I'm making the right moves in regards to the situation.

I am in an incredibly bad place right now. I'm worried I'm making the wrong decision. Do i let him see the kids?? I don't know what to tell my family. I don't know if i need to contact the police. I don't know if i want to. The most stupid part of me wishes I could call my best friend and talk to him about it, but uh...yeah I'm divorcing him. What a stupid feeling to miss him so badly and knowing that I will never be with him again. I just keep thinking that I'm doing something stupid, and i feel like so many people will see it that way.

On top of everything, my birth video is just...in a fucking fetish sub. Every time I think about that, I get choked up. I've reported it a million times in just the few days since I posted. I've made alts to try and report. I've had friends report. My other friends,with their birth videos ALSO posted non-consenually in there, have tried reporting. It doesn't matter. I sent the link to the FBI. It doesn't even really matter anyway. They're g drives. If the post got removed, if the whole sub was removed, my video is still in the possession of some sicko using it for fap material. My baby's sweet little face in there...I am sick. I am defeated.

They have a post up in the sub about how their previous group was removed because of pedophile content. No shit. No fucking shit. Your fetish inherently involves children. They ask that "karens" please leave them alone now. They acknowledge that pedophiles lurk in their sub, yet continue to steal content with children in it for sexual purposes. I do not understand how something like this is legal. I don't know how many other dark places on the internet my video has ended up.

The most special moment of my life is now just this fucking smear of shit all because I decided to try and capture it for memory's  sake. Something that was supposed to bring me unending joy, now leaves me weeping. I keep looking at my sweet toddler and just...breaking down. He didn't deserve this. I wish I could go back and never have recorded that video. I took my USB and fucking smashed it into a million pieces just to feel like I did something. I am tired.

There's not going to be another update for awhile. I am in a very dark place.

Link

he needs to die

[theonlyhonoredone]

Sukuna BF Headcanons

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: my ideas about how Sukuna would be as a partner

Masterlist

bf!Sukuna does not realize he’s falling for you until he is already in love with you. It’s not entirely a falls second and harder situation, but he certainly realizes it later than you. Something would trigger it for him, either you going on vacation or a date or something that forced him to face the idea of his life without you. Once he realized how much he hated that idea he realized that he was absolutely in love with you.

bf!Sukuna who would do anything to get with you. He’ll make it know to you the second he realizes his feelings that he wants you to be his and no one else's ever. He’s an intense guy and he’s overwhelming with his confession. It sounds more like a proposal but he’s only asking you to be his girlfriend. Luckily your used to his intensity at that point and you agree, but tell him he has to take you on an actual date before you become official.

bf!Sukuna is going to panic at first but once you’re together it all just clicks. You’re a natural fit and he quickly becomes more affectionate and soft with you. He has no shame about acting this way in public too, he wants everyone on earth to you know that you belong to each other and they should all just leave you alone.

bf!Sukuna loves when other people see you holding hands or kissing or anything else, he thinks everyone is jealous of his perfect girlfriend and finds joy in thinking about them crying to themselves over the fact that they can’t have you. If he tells you this you just tell him he’s ridiculous and that no one is thinking of stealing his girlfriend because everyone is terrified of him. He’ll laugh in response and tell you that’s for good reason.

bf!Sukuna is a scary man, and you know that he's quick to anger and has no qualms about turning things physical. You’ve seen him get into numerous fights, but still, you just can’t imagine finding him scary. He can be snarky and mean sure, but he’s always so soft with you that you’d sooner compare him to a kitten than a monster. He’s careful to never raise his voice with you, even in the most heated arguments. He knows that he’s a scary man, it’s something he takes pride in, but he doesn’t want you to see him that way. You’re the only person he views as his equal, so he makes sure that he treats you as such.

bf!Sukuna doesn’t get to the point of explosive anger with you, but he’s certainly still dramatic. He’s not the best at regulating his emotions so sometimes he simply storms out of the room. It scared you the first time but he called you an hour later from the gym and apologized. He’d been getting worked up and he needed some alone time. It was one of the first times he’d really gotten vulnerable with you, confessing that he was worried about saying something nasty to you or scaring you with his anger. After a long talk you asked him to just tell you when he needed a break or time alone and you’d happily give it to him. He does his best but sometimes he still storms out and part of you thinks he just likes making a dramatic exit.

bf!Sukuna can be overbearing at times, and controlling. It comes more so from a selfish desire to have everything his way than an actual desire to control you. Once you told him you felt like he was trying to control you he was quick to back off because he really does want to be the best partner possible. He feels that’s what you deserve and he wants to be the one to give you everything you deserve.

bf!Sukuna is willing to work on his issues in context of you and your relationship, so you can both be happy together. However, if anyone else were to complain about his behavior he’d likely respond with a few cutting words and possibly a slap.

bf!Sukuna looks up to you in a lot of ways. You’re much calmer than him and kind to everyone you meet. He thinks you bring a good balance to each other because you can be overly kind to the point of being a pushover and he can be, well, just an asshole.

bf!Sukuna is very protective of you, because he thinks you're too kind and too good for the world and anyone who hurts you should pay ten fold. Surprisingly though, you're just as protective over him. He’s a perfectionist to a fault and you often have to drag him away from a task and force him to relax. You’re the only one who knows about his secretive soft side so you protect that part of him with your life, making sure he always knows he’s loved and appreciated and that he doesn’t have to be perfect at everything.

bf!Sukuna who expects perfection from himself but is the biggest hype man in the world when it comes to you. Anything you want to try he’ll encourage and tell you you’re great at it no matter what. He adores watching you try new things too, he thinks you look cute when you concentrate and the joy on your face once you finally accomplish whatever task you’re working at is the most heartwarming sight he can imagine. 

bf!Sukuna thinks you and everything you do are perfect. If you decide to paint something he’s declaring it greater than the Mona Lisa and hanging it on his wall immediately. You bake cookies and he’s telling you you should open a bakery because they’re so good people will pay millions for them. When he taught you how to drive stick shift and you kept failing to change gears he insisted there must be something wrong with his car and that he’d have to fix it so you could try again. You lost a game of pool? Doesn’t matter, you’re a beginner and he swears he’s never seen anyone do as good as you when they’re starting off. He’ll swear on his life he was way worse than you when he started and that you'll be better than him in no time.

bf!Sukuna who's always encouraging, even when you're facing an abject failure. You’ve learned that’s just one of the ways he shows his love. He’s not the type of man to sit down and pour his heart out to you, but he makes sure you know he’ll always be there to support you, no matter what. He sometimes tries to express himself more verbally, and though it often comes out sounding more like a command, you appreciate it nevertheless. 

bf!Sukuna is very physical, almost always having his arm around your shoulders or his hand on your back. He is always the driver and keeps his hand planted firmly on your thigh wherever you go. At night he’s cradling you against his large body, wrapping you up tight in his arms, and burying his face in your hair. He’s pulling you into his lap at parties, always trying to sneak into the shower with you, hugging you from behind anytime he can. The man can’t keep his hands to himself. One of his favorite things to do is wait until you’re all cozied up watching a movie and then start to tickle you. He likes the way you whine and tell him to stop because you’re trying to watch the movie. You try to push him off which always leads to the two of you getting into a wrestling match which he sometimes lets you win. 

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate: Chapter 18

Trigger Warnings: Violence, trauma, underage sex, coercion, childhood trauma, manipulation, grooming, implied non-consent, death, grief, magic, obsession, paranoia, abandonment, betrayal, forced breeding, torture, brainwashing, sacrilege, sacrifice, judgement, uncomfortable themes

The room was silent. No one uttered a word at the revelation. They were stunned into silence. Some of them even frowned, if not glared at the thought that Hyunjin was their omega's alpha. It made no sense. If Hyunjin was her alpha at some point it meant Hyunjin must have abused her too. He must have tormented her, assaulted her, abused her. There was no way he could justify it now, it was impossible. There were still so many questions. Why did Hyunjin not save her? Why did Hyunjin abandon her? Why did Hyunjin not confess to Chan at the beginning? Did he know that Y/N was Chan's mate? All of these questions were flying around the room silently. Some of them were accusations against Hyunjin. Most of which he did not want to answer nor did he feel he had to. Hyunjin had already explained his story once before to them so why should he reveal it again? They all knew why Chan had stolen Hyunjin, he was Chan's childhood best friend's half-brother that was given to Hongjoong because he was a bastard. Before he died he had begged Chan to find him and to save him. The older half-brother regretted every day what his mother did to Hyunjin. The younger alpha never deserved to be treated the way he was. It was never Hyunjin's fault his parents committed adultery.

Hyunjin was someone who didn't take it lightly when he wasn't trusted. It was an insult to him, but right now he didn't have much of a choice. Either way, he had to confess the truth and accept whether Chan would exile him or not, but Hyunjin was smarter. There was a way he could make Chan accept him and that was by threatening Chan with his omega. Chan would never let anyone take his mate away but Hyunjin couldn't abandon her now since she was back with him. No, she was Hyunjin's in more ways than one and Chan was about to find that out very quickly. Hyunjin could see it. The minute he revealed that it was him and not Wooyoung, Chan had pulled the omega into his arms. He feared the other alpha. If he let her sit there, Hyunjin would grab her and she would never be seen again. It made Hyunjin laugh to see the head alpha so worried. For someone who had such a high status in the werewolf community, he was actually quite vulnerable. Chan had an obvious weakness. Y/N. Without her Chan was nothing. He had the elders of the werewolf council but it was never enough. Chan was a stray who was kicked out of his pack for helping his uncle kill his older brother to be a more powerful alpha. Except that wasn't entirely true. Chan's uncle had coerced Chan as a young boy from the age of ten. He groomed Chan. Gave him everything he ever wanted. Mentored him. Helped him. Everything. It was also the reason why Chan could not stand to be seen as weak. He hated being dominated and he definitely hated being manipulated when he was out-casted by his pack. Still, Chan's older brother had died and Chan was blamed for it because Chan's uncle had to disappear right at the scene. There was no way of proving Chan was innocent so he left as a lone wolf and saved those who were exiled. He saved victims who were accused like Jisung, Minho, Hyunjin and Seungmin. The others chose Chan for his politics. Jeongin chose Chan because he trusted Minho and grew up with him. Felix and Changbin came from similar werewolf packs who left because they heard who Chan was.

Despite all that he has achieved, the need for a soul mate was the root of the problem that fueled Chan's early corruption. His uncle promised him a soul mate if he became an alpha. A soul mate so pure and virtuous. A soul mate who would breed for Chan and provide him with pups. A soul mate who would provide him with an apex. That was the sickest thing Chan learned as a boy of ten. He learned about breeding at such a young age. Even when it came to sex Chan learned it at the ripe age of fourteen with a female omega in his pack who was around the same age. He had to learn, that's what his uncle taught him. He needed to know how to please his omega. This was the reason Chan had such a bad obsession with finding his soul mate. He raided several packs trying to find her but all he did was cause more damage, and he became a threat to werewolf packs. He became a monster. It was only his best friend who could get the alpha to snap out of it. It was only him who could break it gently to his alpha that he was obsessing over something his abuser told him as a child. Minho was another wolf who knew some of the story and promised Chan's best friend he would protect the alpha from his uncle. Minho was the only wolf who had seen Chan break down at the sudden realisation there was no omega. Except his uncle never told a lie, because he found her and Chan would always protect her no matter what. Chan would fight to the death if he had to. He lost so much in life that all he wanted was one ounce of happiness and now that he got it, he wanted to consume it, with or without Hyunjin there.

So now Chan was left with a very easy choice. Banish him. Chan had already made up his mind and Hyunjin could read that, but Hyunjin wasn't going to walk away. Oh, he couldn't. Y/N was soul-bound to him. Her soul was linked to his. His soul was hers. Her soul was his. Hyunjin had used dark magic behind Hongjoong's back to keep her safe because he loved her. In spite of Hyunjin's actions towards her at the beginning, he loved his favourite little omega. His omega was the smartest omega he had ever met when she was his omega. His omega was the one who had found a way to block Hyunjin from her mind. She could even prevent him from feeling her. The reason was because of her perseverance and mental strength, but that wasn't how he fell in love with her. It was the fact she had annoyed him into liking her. Hyunjin was a strict alpha with her. Hyunjin was in charge of the omegas, Jongho, Yeosang and Y/N. To teach them, look after them, care for them. Hyunjin was even colder than he was now, his words were sharper, if not harsher. His defiant female omega had broken his ice-cold heart with her shameless attitude. Every time he made her stay with him as a punishment she would do something obnoxious. Steal his paintbrushes. Swap his books out. The worst she had ever done was swap one of his photographs with a naked one of her. Hyunjin was filled with rage that day and her shameless behaviour. He had never met a woman like her but there she was. It didn't help that Hyunjin was a massive prude back then. Still, Hyunjin learned to love her, which was why he wasn't going to let anything happen to her. He knew she wasn't Hongjoong or Ateez's soul mate so to protect her he bound her soul to his. Hongjoong learned Hyunjin was keeping a secret from him. He knew Hyunjin adored his omega more than anything so Hongjoong had him tortured. Hyunjin was beaten several times with wolfsbane and injected with mistletoe (a slow but deadly poison). Hyunjin was then dragged into a graveyard and was cursed with a dark aura that would be passed down through his bloodline if he did have children that was. The dark aura is the essence of evil that binds the werewolf to both life and death. The nature of their soul is used to feed lycans. Lycans were cursed werewolves who ate people, but there were very few left as most were killed. Hyunjin's soul was supposed to be damned and changed into a lycan but it never happened, much to Hongjoong's confusion. The main reason this never happened was due to the fact half of his soul was Y/N's. Y/N's half prevented the evil from being absorbed, however, the dark aura that was cursed upon him was also engrained into Y/N. She too had a dark aura inside of her, but she didn't know that.

Now that she was bound to him, Hyunjin couldn't leave her. Not ever. The only reason he abandoned her was because he was a selfish, angry coward. He wanted to use her to anger Hongjoong. He wanted her to breed Hongjoong's pups so they would be infected with the dark aura. That anger had eventually faded and then Hyunjin buried his head in the sand all those years as he waited for the pain of her death. He waited and waited and it never came. Which was why he reacted the way he did when he saw her. He was afraid of her reaction. He was afraid she would tell him she hated him and that she never loved him. He was afraid that she regretted binding their souls, but it never came. Y/N never knew who he was. To an extent he was relieved but deep down he was distraught. His little defiant omega was gone and was replaced with something Seonghwa had ruined. So now the story takes another dark turn. Something sinister is about to arise and now Hyunjin cannot leave Y/N. Chan cannot banish him, but that still leaves Chan and his pack of stray kids with a burning question. How the fuck did Hongjoong know Y/N was his mate? And what the fuck is coming for Stray kids.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @leezanetheofficial @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @itzreetal987 @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @skzdreamer13 @reallychaoticwoo @ihttinniee @kingdomofpentagon @pixie0627

[santanasaintmendes]

g’day mate how are ya?

Part7! to The Cosmic Girl Records!

summary: new year, new you, plus your new job! which also comes with a few difficulties when you have a big insta following and no pr training ollie bearman x reader & platonic!grid x reader

fc!: just some random photos off pinterest, all credits go to the rightful owners of the images used below

warnings: swearing, insensitive jokes, mention of being held at gunpoint, if any of these are triggering please scroll away!!

a/n: finally got the motivation to make the 7th part to the cosmic girl records also reader is 2 days younger than Ollie! Also if u get tagged by accident IM SO SORRY i swear it’s not on purpose. Also Lewis is driving for mercedes with kimi in this universe, i should probably make a post about the grid for this universe, anyways enjoy!

liked by olliebearman, francocolapinto, landonorris, lilymhe, georgerussell64, charles_leclerc and 3,920,443 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: new year, new me AANNND NEW JOB 

tagged olliebearman 

olliebearman: but NOT a new man, just to be clear 

 unfortunatelyy/n: hey there mr jealous wanna get off my insta page maybe 

 olliebearman: ☹️

landonorris: i feel like you say new year new me too often and nothing changes 

 unfortunatelyy/n: u know just how ruin everything 😔

 landonorris: that is true but you don’t have to point it out‼️

 user1: bro’s just accepting it at this point 😭

user2: SHE’S BACKKKK AND BETTERR THIS TIME 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

mercedesamgf1: can’t wait to see you in the garage this season 💪

 unfortunatelyy/n: 💪💪

georgerussell64: Love? EWWWWWW

 unfortunatelyy/n: such an anti romantic. i’m telling carmen 

 georgerussell64: no wait 

 unfortunatelyy/n: poor mr russell. screenshotted or you may know it - screen grabbing 

 unfortunatelyy/n: or at least that’s what old people call it 

 georgerussell64: you dare? you dare call ME OLD?

 georgerussell64: HAVE U SEEN ALONSO (no offence mate)

 fernandoalo_oficial: um offence taken? 

 unfortunatelyy/n: WOAH u cannot be going around roasting rookies like that george 

 user2: SHE KNOWS 

 user3: of course she knows, she’s probably the only on there that even knows how to properly use instagram 

 user4: the sad truth. sad but true. liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 unfortunatelyy/n: very true indeed 

user5: i fear that y/n is the only one who’s chronically online 😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: i am, it’s such a hard life when the others don’t get it the memes i show them 😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: they’re just too old

 olliebearman: it’s such a struggle fr 

 unfortunatelyy/n: you’re old too so shush 

|

 olliebearman: I’M 19??? 19 AND LITERALLY 2 DAYS OLDER THAN U

 unfortunatelyy/n: poor ollie, when i was learning subtraction and addition you were already doing multiplication and division 

 olliebearman: i am so confused right now 

liked by olliebearman, alex_albon, kimi.antonelli, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 4,920,228 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: IT’S RACE WEEK + my boyfriend with his boyfriend 

tagged olliebearman and kimi.antonelli 

User1: uh y/n? i don’t think you can be saying stuff like that anymore 

User5: i fear y/n will never be the same anymore, she is employed now 😔

user2: no filter y/n we love to see it 

olliebearman: seriously?

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m such a comedian (i know ur giggling n shit) 🤭

 olliebearman: I AM NOT 

 unfortunatelyy/n: woah so defensive and for what 

mercedesamgf1: usually we only do pr training for our drivers but . . .  

 unfortunatelyy/n: good thing i’m not a driver then 😮‍💨

 user3: SHE DID NOTTTT 

kimi.antonelli: i’m gonna get you fired (can you send me the photo i want it printed out and on my dashboard for when i drive🙏) 

 unfortunatelyy/n: try me antonelli (yes ofc check ur dms) 

 olliebearman: NOW HANG ON JUST A MINUTE 

 unfortunatelyy/n: yes my love?

 kimi.antonelli: yes my little sugarplum with caramel sauce?

 olliebearman: 🤨

 kimi.antonelli: 🫦

 olliebearman: I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND 

kimi.antonelli: and now a boyfriend 

 user4: i’m on kimi’s side. it’s not gay if it’s with the homies 🤷 

 olliebearman: @unfortunatelyy/n send for help 🙏

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, lilymhe, kimi.antonelli, arthur_leclerc and 4,294,339 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: hanging out with my fav cutie patootie - oh hey ollie’s here too 

tagged olliebearman and kimi.antonelli

 landonorris: OOOOOHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥

 unfortunatelyy/n: get out of here 

 landonorris: ok 😔

 user1: wow she really has him at gunpoint

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

kimi.antonelli: you are also my favourite cutie patootie 🤗

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 olliebearman: just break up with me already😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: well who would i annoy then 

 olliebearman: kimi 😒

 unfortunatelyy/n: IT WAS A JOKE PLS COME HOME WITH THE ITALIAN FOOD 

 olliebearman: NO 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m calling the police 

 charles_leclerc: i would appreciate it if you would stop bullying my son 

 charles_leclerc: and calling the police on him 

 unfortunatelyy/n: not unless he brings the food back 

 olliebearman: fine. but only because i love you 😒

 kimi.antonelli: and me too 

 olliebearman: STOP TRYING TO RUIN MY RELATIONSHIP 

 kimi.antonelli: no.

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, francocolapinto, lilymhe, kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc, pepemartiofficial and 3,849,928 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: just a little reminder that the aussie waves are ALWAYS OUT FOR BLOOD

user1: my anxiety looking at that second pic: 📈📈📈📈

 user2: my girl’s been traumatised by the aussie waves 😭 

 unfortunatelyy/n: she has indeed 😔 

 olliebearman: HAHAHAHAHHAHA 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i hope both sides of your pillow are warm tonight 

 olliebearman: GASP. how terrifyingly hilarious, still won’t beat you nearly drowning though 

 unfortunatelyy/n: I WAS NOT DROWNING 

 olliebearman: so you were just randomly yelling for help in the water while freaking out 

 unfortunatelyy/n: . . . i was testing your boyfriend reflexes 

 olliebearman: mhm sure 

 unfortunatelyy/n: okay the sass was unnecessary 

 olliebearman: 🙄💅

user5: they’re such couple goals i just feel single whenever i see their posts 😔

 user6: kimi’s probably plotting his next sabotage 

 kimi.antonelli: 🤫

 lilymhe: @unfortunatelyy/n ur so hot 😍 

 unfortunatelyy/n: you’re hotter 😍😍😍

 alex_albon: not this again 

 alex_albon: i thought we moved on from this phase 

 unfortunatelyy/n: it’s not a phase honey, it’s a lifestyle 

 alex_albon: your lifestyle is stealing my girlfriend?

 unfortunatelyy/n: yes 😄

 alex_albon: *sigh 

liked by landonorris, kimi.antonelli, lewishamilton, olliebearman, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 5,928,658 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: FIRST DAY ON THE JOB  WE GOT THIS💪💪

tagged lewishamilton and kimi.antonelli 

user1: did lewis dirty 😭

 user2: what is going on with ollie’s hair in the bg of the third pic 😭

 unfortunatelyy/n: unfortunately it’s always like that 

 olliebearman: HEY 

 lewishamilton: DELETE THIS 

 unfortunatelyy/n: erm no 

 lewishamilton: i’m gonna fire you 

 unfortunatelyy/n: actually u can’t do that 

 lewishamilton: erm actually 🤓☝️

 user3: WOAH i did not know lewis was chill like that 😭😭

 unfortunatelyy/n: OKAY I’M TELLING TOTO 

 lewishamilton: DO IT I DARE YOU 

 unfortunatelyy/n: done. in less than 24 hours you will be an unemployed man 

 mercedesamgf1: y/n . . . we can’t fire our 7 world champion 😓

 unfortunatelyy/n: DANG IT 

 mercedesamgf1: so about that pr training. . . 

 unfortunatelyy/n: GOTTA GO 🏃‍♀️💨

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, alex_albon, kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lilymhe and 11,759,390 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: i know we’re enemies now but maybe i can be happy for u just this once 🫶

tagged olliebearman 

olliebearman: ❤️ liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 landonorris: yuckyyyyyy 

 unfortunatelyy/n: ur yuckier 

 landonorris: no you are 

 unfortunatelyy/n: nuh uh 

 landonorris: yuh huh 

 unfortunatelyy/n: SHUT UP

 landonorris: NO

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m calling ur mom 

 landonorris: now hang on just a second 

user1: y/n’s living that wattpadd engineer x driver life 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 user2: HELP SHE LIKED THE COMMENT 

 oscarpiastri: congrats mate 

 unfortunatelyy/n: are you happy being back in your natural habitat 

 oscarpiastri: what.

a/n: thanks for reading! stay safe and have a good day!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The two weeks since you gave notice fly by. You’re almost buzzing with excitement. Once the day is through, you’re free. Well, free to finish packing and spend your last night in your apartment before your new chapter. 

The change couldn’t come at a better time. It’s best you get out of the city after your brush with danger. Back on the straight and narrow. For once, things are going according to plan. 

You’re barely focused on work. You have everything wrapped up and ready for the next poor soul. Brenner’s not bothered. He just sits at his desk, watching those videos that reflect in his framed certification. You try your best not to look. 

All you can think of is packing up at the rest of the day and never looking back. This new job is everything you ever wanted. And the interview was great. They seemed great and the culture was more than a slimy boss and elderly secretary knitting by the door. 

As if on cue, Geraldine squawks a greeting as the door open. You flinch and look over as she preens, “why hello, sir. Back again?” 

You don’t get too many walk-ins. You turn and your eyes bulge as Rogers lets the door close behind him. He wears a dark blue suit with a matching tie. His hair looks even longer than before, his beard thicker. It’s been barely a month but it feels like longer. 

You turn to your desk and click around your screen. Remember what he said. As far as you’re concerned, he’s a stranger. 

So why is he walking towards your desk. Brenner clears his throat and stands, his mouse bouncing off his keyboard as he scrambles. You swallow dryly and keep your head down. 

“Mr. Rogers, sir, what can we do for you this time?” 

“Got another job.” Rogers intones. 

“Sure, uh, we’re a bit short-handed but--” 

“Her,” Rogers stops beside your desk and taps the corner. “Come on.” 

You flinch and look up at him in dread. You frown. You’re confused. He told you to forget and you did your best to do just that. 

“Right, er,” you sniff and twine your fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “Happily, er, sir, but the thing is, it’s my last day. Tomorrow--” 

“I’m not asking. Come on.” 

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate. He sounds angry. You know what happens when he’s mad. The thought makes you light-headed. “Well, I’m moving out-of-town so--” 

“Get up,” he demands as he shifts towards you, reaching over your shoulder to grip the back of your chair. “Important work to do.” 

“Go on,” Brenner says, “help out Mr. Rogers.” 

Rogers’ icy blue eyes flick up to the other man and narrow. A warning. I don’t need your help. He pushes away from you and the chair rocks dangerously. Back to square one. Back to an angry dog bristling for a fight. 

“Sure, sure,” you show your palms then slowly pivot. 

You gather up your briefcase and check that all the drawers are empty. You wonder if maybe you’re taking so long but you really don’t want to come back here after whatever trouble this man has in store. You get up with your bag in hand. 

Rogers turns without a word and strides across the office. You follow. You catch up to him outside as he holds the door for you. As you try to keep pace with him, you muster all your courage. 

“I hope this is a short job, I have aa moving truck--” 

“I’m not negotiating.” 

“Alright,” you accept with a squeak. 

It’s all too familiar. There’s no explanation. Just blunt orders and tense silences. He opens the passenger door of his black car and you get in. He goes around the driver’s side and turns the engine. 

“Whatever job you took, won’t pay as much as this one so let’s stop with that,” he says. 

You blink. This can’t be happening. You had it all figured out. You’re done with criminals and Mr. Brenner and all of this. You frown. You feel his gaze in the mirror. He sighs. 

“We gotta go outta town. I need someone who can do numbers.” 

“Outta town?” You murmur. 

“Sounds like you’re already packed and ready to go, so we’ll drop by to grab some stuff and head off. No time to waste--” 

“What? I... but...” you stammer. 

You snap your mouth shut as you sense his roiling irritation. Oh, oh no. You know what this is. Too good to be true which means it’s all falling down around you. ‘Out of town?’ You know what that means. 

Your head bobbles as your breath burns in your chest. You grab at the door handle and whine, “please, don’t. Please, let me out. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, stop that,” he grabs your shoulder and pulls you back against the seat, steering with his other hand. “You’re going to get hurt--” 

“You’re going to hurt me?” You squeal and your eyes roll back into a fog. 

You feel the lurch of the car before you plunge fully into the darkness. It’s like blinking. You wake up against the seat. He’s still driving. You don’t recognise your surroundings. 

“No!” You erupt back into consciousness. “No! Why are you doing this? I promised! I didn’t talk to anyone, sir! I didn’t. I’m leaving town and--” 

“Calm down,” he grits over the wheel. 

“No! No! If you’re going to kill me, then I’m not going down easy,” you insist, “I’m going to--” 

The world turns gray again and you hit the door with a thunk. You sink again into your vacant mind. A shift in motion wakes you again. There’s music playing. 

“Am I dead yet?” You ask groggily. 

He scoffs, “what’s gotten into you? I told ya, we got a job.” 

“We? Job?” You sputter. “You know, I know what ‘out of town’ is. I watched The Godfather. Boring but they were streaming it...” 

“Huh? Godfather? No, no, look, I don’t kill people I can use,” he says plainly. 

“Oh... that’s not reassuring,” you utter. 

He lets out another long breath. Yours starts to pick up again. You brace the door. 

“Damnit, don’t you pass out again,” he demands. “I know you kept your promise. That’s why I chose you. This is an important job. Diplomatic. I can’t risk someone who might flip and I know you’re not going to do any of that. Because I know you don’t want to do any of this.” 

You consider his words. You clutch your head, “fair.” 

“Are you good? I got some water,” he points to the bottle in the plastic holder by the console. 

“I... I won’t...” you inhale deeply. “I just—you said we were done.” 

“Shit happens,” he shrugs. 

“And I’m just along for the ride,” you mumble. 

He snorts and shakes his head, “guess so.” 

[sansaorgana]

— BLESSED (II)

PART ONE

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You find out your husband's true identity when Eregion is under attack. It is hard to tell which one is worse – the betrayal that you feel or witnessing how influenced by his evil your daughter already is.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I said there would be a second part, so here it is. But as usual, I could not stop writing and... there will be a third part, too! 🤣 Basically, in this part, Sauron is walking inside the rooms rapidly nearly all the time, which is something I realised later while re-reading the fic but I couldn't edit it since it made sense for the plot (and he was doing that a lot in canon, too).

WARNINGS — Reader's father is dead (he was human, so she outlived him), manipulating, gaslighting, lowkey toxic and abusive marriage between the Reader and Annatar Sauron, he gets angry at his daughter once or twice but he is not violent towards her (should not trigger anyone but I wanted to mention it just in case) + he is manipulating his daughter a lot, Celebrimbor has gone mad-mad, Reader being put to sleep against her will, trigger warnings from S02E07 (Sauron murdering the guards etc.)

WORD COUNT — 5,240

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

BLESSED (II)

You were sitting inside your chambers in the evening all alone and embroidering for your daughter. Your only company was a slowly burning candle as you focused on the beautiful gemstones that were appearing thanks to your needle. Almárea had always been interested in the craft of smithery and it was no surprise. Her grandfather had been an excellent smith and so was her father. Uncle Celebrimbor perhaps was not related to her but she had been growing up around him. And, recently, her new favourite thing to do was to spend time with him in the forge, learning everything she could about the craft. She was there at the moment, too.

And where Annatar was, you had no idea. Most likely with them or helping to run the city. Ever since Celebrimbor’s health had been getting worse, your husband was helping you with the administration matters around Eregion, for which you were the most grateful. He did not wish you to overwork yourself.

You heard a booming sound from the distance, which startled you slightly. However, you gave it no second thought. But when the sound began to repeat itself, you stood up and approached the window worryingly. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the fire burning in the distance and you spotted a cannonball coming closer and closer to Eregion.

You could see it all in slow-motion how it hit one of the towers of your city. You let out a scream and covered your mouth with a trembling hand. The very foundations of the tower you were in shook and made you hurry for the doors, desperate to find the ones you loved the most.

But before you could reach them, they opened widely and Annatar stood in them. He was oddly calm but oh, of course he was – an emissary of The Valar would not be ever scared and his calmness would bring nothing but peace in the times of trouble.

“We are under attack,” he announced and you grabbed his sleeve to squeeze the fabric and pull on it, holding onto him like a child. “Stay here.”

“But… Almárea… She’s in the forge with Celebrimbor…” You sobbed and yelped at the sound of another cannonball hitting Eregion.

“Do not be afraid,” Annatar put his arm around you and walked you back to your chair where he was trying to sit you down but you refused.

“Almárea and uncle Celebrimbor… I must go for them…”

“I shall go,” Annatar assured you and finally managed to sit you down by the table. “My love, stay here.”

“Should we not evacuate?” You asked, looking up at him with glistening eyes. Whatever he would say, you would listen, do and follow. You trusted him with your whole life.

“When the right time comes. Until then, stay here, so I do not lose you in the crowd,” Annatar instructed and left your chambers.

You wiped your tears with a shaky hand and felt the ground under your feet shaking once more. A while after his departure, you realised that his request was deeply concerning. Staying inside this tower could mean death to you, after all. There was no guarantee that the next cannonball would not hit your tower.

You moved up once more and ran to the doors but they were locked, which made you furrow your brows. You kept pulling the handle but without any success. Even when you used all of your force, they did not move an inch.

The sounds of cannonballs and people screaming in terror were reaching your ears from afar as your anxiety grew. How could your husband ask you to stay inside in a moment like this – especially with your daughter being far away from you? Your heart could not rest until you were sure that Almárea was safe.

You hurried to the balcony and looked up at the tower next to yours. The fire inside the forge was still on, you noticed. But you kept waiting and waiting for your husband’s return and there was nobody coming.

You were circling around the room nervously, trying to think of a way out. Almárea was all you could think of – your sweet daughter, your purpose in life, your little blessing. You had to be with her, you had to protect her.

And as you nearly broke down in tears of helplessness, you felt another cannonball hitting nearby. The force of that hit was so strong that you fell over, feeling the floor underneath you tilting slightly. When you dared to open your eyes, fearing what you would witness, you realised that half of the tower you were locked inside was in ruins now. Including the wall in front of you, which allowed you to run out without using the locked doors.

You did not think of anything else, leaving all your properties behind as you gathered your skirts and managed to get to the corridor, coughing heavily from all the dust.

The staircase was wobbly and you knew each step could cause you to fall down but you were too determined to overthink that. Step by step, as fast as you could, you ran downstairs and hurried across the courtyard, bumping into other screaming and terrified people, until you reached the doors to Celebrimbor’s forge.

What you witnessed, shocked you dearly. Because despite the siege around you, you spotted your uncle and daughter working on some design cheerfully.

“Almárea!” You called out for her, making them both turn around with widened eyes. “Uncle! What are you doing?!” You hurried to their side and put your arms around your daughter protectively. “Can’t you see and hear what is happening outside?! We must leave, this very moment!”

“What are you talking about, child?” Celebrimbor chuckled at you as if you were the crazy one. His eyes were full of joy but you also spotted a haze in them, a deep fog as if he had lost his mind. Your heart ached for him because his state had been worsening for weeks now.

“Uncle… Please, we must go,” you reached out to hold his wrists but he winced and pushed you away.

“No! I must not stop my work. What are you talking about, (Y/N)? Look at the state of you, you look like a slattern,” he pointed out and his words hurt you deeply. Of course you looked like a slattern. There was a siege happening and you crawled yourself out of the tower’s ruins to get here. “Almárea, your mother must be feverish,” he addressed your daughter.

“Almárea, my darling, we have to go and we have to take uncle with us,” you tried to explain it to her in the simplest way but she took a step back from you as she shook her head and the bow in her head bounced slightly.

“No. Daddy asked me to stay here and watch over uncle Celebrimbor,” she explained.

“Almárea, that is very noble but we are under attack,” you were trying to remain calm despite the noises reaching your ears from the outside. You knew that you had no time to argue. “Whatever your daddy asked you to do, it has no significance now.”

“But he has been here only recently,” she answered and you opened your mouth slightly, surprised. “He told me to keep up my work,” she added, proudly. “Uncle, go back to your craft. Mummy is sick indeed,” she addressed Celebrimbor and he nodded at her before giving you a dirty look and going back to his designs of the Rings.

“Almárea, it is not safe, we must leave. What are you doing to him?” You asked her, unsurely. You were scared to hear the answer as you crouched down to be on her level.

Your sweet, little daughter. Your blessing. Why was there so much malice in her eyes now?

The doors of the forge opened rapidly and you stood up at the sight of Annatar rushing inside. At first, you did not recognise him because his kind and loving face was twisted in anger as his soft eyes reminded you of nothing but black, empty abysses.

“What are you doing here?!” He barked at you. “I saw the cannonball hitting our tower, I rushed there and it was empty. Do you have any idea how worried I was?!” He raised his voice at you but you could not hear any concern in it – only fury.

You swallowed a lump in your throat and put your hands on Almárea’s shoulders.

“It is you who should explain yourself to me,” you tried to sound harshly but it was coming to you with great difficulty. After all, it was your husband, whom you loved and respected greatly. “Why is Almárea here and what is she doing to my uncle? You promised me you would come for them and we would evacuate together,” you pointed out.

“Not until the Rings are finished,” Annatar answered. “Almárea, are you keeping up the good work?” He addressed her softly.

“Yes, daddy,” she nodded her head with a grin and Annatar smiled before approaching Celebrimbor.

“How fares your progress?” He asked him.

“It would be better if your wife was not distracting me. She is feverish, you should take her back to your chambers and put her to bed. Call for a medic if you must,” Celebrimbor mumbled out.

“Is everyone going insane here?! We are under attack!” You exclaimed out of desperation.

“Almárea,” was all your husband said before she nodded and tilted her head

Suddenly, you felt dizzy. You let go of her arms and stumbled, grabbing the edge of Celebrimbor’s desk. You laid your free hand on your forehead and felt how hot the skin was.

“Oh, I… I… I do not feel well,” you whispered.

Annatar hurried to your side and slowly wrapped his arms around yours to help you move away.

“My gentle darling, you have a fever. You must have had a nightmare,” he told you sweetly. “I told you to stay in bed.”

“You… You did?” You asked but your mind was in a haze.

“Please, lay down,” Annatar helped you to get comfortable on a chaise longue in Celebrimbor’s study. He caressed your forehead and you could hear him walk away since your vision was too blurry to see anything. “Almárea, your mummy needs to rest,” you heard him whisper before your eyelids got too heavy to keep them open and you drifted off to the land of dreams.

You had no idea for how long you had been sleeping. Could be hours and could be days. When you opened your eyes again, you realised with terror that the forge was a mere shadow of its own glory. It was in ruins now and everything was dull, grey and full of dust. You stood up rapidly with your heart pounding inside your chest from the anxiety – Almárea and her safety were all you could think of.

And there she was, sitting boredly on top of Celebrimbor’s desk. They both had clothes and faces dirty from the ashes but he kept working cheerfully as your daughter was looking down at him and swinging her legs.

“Oh, mummy,” she smiled at the sight of you. “I am glad you woke up. I am so bored here and daddy keeps saying I must go on until uncle’s work is finished,” she sighed and jumped down onto the floor.

“What… What are you doing? What are you doing exactly?” You asked her, carefully. Your head was still heavy from the sleep induced upon you and your memories of what had happened were foggy.

“Daddy says uncle Celebrimbor must finish the Rings for men but he would be scared of what is going on outside, so while daddy helps to run Eregion, I am here, making sure uncle Celebrimbor has no idea about anything,” she revealed and you gasped.

At that moment, the doors opened and Annatar walked inside. His skin and robes were not dirty at all as if he was above the siege. For the first time in your life, you were scared at the sight of him as you swallowed thickly, so deeply confused.

“The Rings. Are they finished?” He asked and closed the doors behind him. Then, he spotted you being awake and turned around slowly with a puzzled expression. “Almárea, why is your mother awake?”

“I was bored, daddy,” Almárea whined and you watched Annatar’s face muscles twitching as he clenched his jaw and gave your daughter a look so scolding that she approached you to seek safety.

“She is only a child, what do you expect?” You asked him. “You have burdened her with a task that is too heavy for her. It would be too heavy for anyone. The measures you are taking to finish the creation are unholy,” you took a deep breath in and moved a little closer to your uncle with Almárea still clinging to you. You were trying to shield poor Celebrimbor from your husband. “Make it stop. Let us flee.”

Celebrimbor looked up at you, his eyes so full of fog and mist that it made you shed a tear of compassion as he smiled adoringly at you with nothing but pure joy. He had completely lost his mind now.

“No emissary of The Valar would do this,” you turned your face around to lay your eyes on your husband again as more tears streamed down your cheeks. He looked both – hurt to be accused and angry to be caught at the same time. The most confusing reaction you could expect. “My husband would not do this,” you added, nearly inaudibly.

At that, he snorted. And you only sobbed some more.

“Free my uncle’s mind, I beg of you,” you shook your head.

“He is not under my control,” Annatar smirked and looked down to meet your daughter’s gaze. He nodded and she squeezed her eyes tightly as she focused on something. When her eyes opened again, you looked back at your uncle but he remained working. “Her powers are too strong. He might be forever broken now,” Annatar pointed out with a glimpse of… pride. “Come to me, my child,” he opened his arms and Almárea tried to move but you tightened your grip around her.

“No. You will not go near that man ever again,” you said to her, harshly. Each word caused a pain, like a knife cutting your heart into pieces.

You loved Annatar but you had to protect your daughter from him because the man in front of you was… Was simply not the man you had married. Perhaps the burden of the Valar was too heavy for him. The task they had given to him had driven him and your uncle to madness.

Perhaps it was all your fault – by choosing to stay with you as your husband, he had to choose this form and stay in it, losing some of his godly powers. And his new flesh was simply too weak to handle all the power he had been blessed with by the gods.

His empty eyes glanced at you with so much hatred and fury that you felt smaller than a mouse at the moment.

“I am her father,” he reminded you, coldly. “Almárea, come here,” he ordered.

And you were simply too weak to fight it. Your limbs rebelled against your will as you felt your daughter leaving your grasp and running up to her father. You could only watch as your whole life was crumbling down just like Eregion around it.

“You are her father. But you are not my husband,” you said. “Who are you… truly?”

“I am the one keeping the storm at bay,” he answered, putting his hands on Almárea’s shoulders as she kept looking up at him with admiration. “Balancing the very sun above your head. All to heal Middle-earth and give your weak and pathetic uncle one chance to prove his worth. I want the Nine!” He yelled, making you flinch.

Celebrimbor did not, however. He only looked up at the mention of his name and smiled kindly at the monster you had to call your husband.

“I am working, my friend,” he assured him before going back to work.

You moved slightly to cover him from Annatar’s stare. But you were not sure if Annatar was truly his name.

To heal Middle-earth. You knew that story. You knew who had been the man with such a dream. Annatar had been mentioning it before but never in this way. But now it all made sense. It all made a terrible sense and you had been nothing but a blind fool. It should had alarmed you the very first time Annatar had used this phrase. But the tone of his voice had been sweet then; concerned. Now, he had revealed his true intentions.

“You are He,” you realised out loud with a trembling voice. In fact, your whole body was trembling. The waves of aftershocks coming over your body after finding out such a dreadful thing about the person with whom you had shared your chambers, your bed, your body, your heart and your soul… Your bloodline. “You are Sauron,” the name rolled off of your tongue like something filthy and dirty – the most disgusting. The Abhorred.

All those I love yous you had whispered to him, all those nights you had spent on whimpering his name lost in pleasure, all those breakfasts you had served him, all those hours spent on brushing his hair with your fingers and peppering his face with tiny kisses. All this time you had been doing nothing but pampering the monster. And all this time you had been living in an illusion – not much better than the one your uncle was living in at the moment.

“I have many names,” Annatar smirked at your question as if it was bringing him satisfaction that his silly and naive wife had finally realised the dreadful truth.

“But you are my daddy,” Almárea tugged on his robe, waiting for confirmation.

“For all eternity, my darling one,” he caressed her hair lovingly and an empty hole in your chest grew and grew as it began to sink into your heart.

You had married Annatar but you had a child with Sauron.

You were sitting on the floor, with your back pressed to the wall and your knees brought all the way up to be able to rest your head on them. You had no chains but you did not have to. Annatar – or rather Sauron – knew very well that you would not leave Celebrimbor’s forge as long as Almárea was inside.

So, you just kept sitting there and staring at her as she was standing above your uncle and watching carefully as he crafted the Rings. She was studying him and you smiled sadly at that because under different circumstances it would be lovely to watch her learning from Celebrimbor.

His mind was far too gone to know anything happening around him. The only thing he could focus on was forging the Rings as you kept overthinking your whole marriage.

All those little things you had been ignoring about Annatar until now – all those excuses you had been making up for him. Gods, you were such a fool. And you loved your daughter more than anything but you could not help a feeling that your womb had borne a seed of Middle-earth’s demise.

Why had Annatar chosen you? Now it all made sense – you were the most useful in his schemes. You were close to the man he had wanted wrapped around his finger. And you were half-human, which could push Celebrimbor into agreeing to craft such powerful items even for the kin considered to be weak and unworthy by many Elves.

You sobbed silently. Was it possible that this was the only kind of love you could ever count on? This twisted illusion, this mockery? You had been nothing but kind and gentle to him, giving him everything you had and more. And all you had ever wanted in return was to be loved back. To have a family.

“You are done now! Daddy will be so proud, uncle!” Almárea clapped her hands and it made you look up. She kissed Celebrimbor’s cheek and he smiled at her, watching her put the rings inside a pouch.

“Almárea,” you called out for her and she laid her eyes on you. “Give them to me,” you ordered.

“But daddy–” She started, unsurely.

“I just want to see,” you extended your hand and she walked up to you, hesitantly. She handed you the pouch and you grabbed it from her. “Mummy!” She whined.

“Undo what you have done to uncle Celebrimbor’s mind. Right now,” your voice was harsh but not too much because she was still your daughter and you could never hurt or abandon her even if the darkness was the path she would descend into.

She was still a child, though. And she was half you – there was the same amount of light inside of her as of darkness.

“I can only try,” Almárea told you and you nodded at her, encouragingly. 

You held her hands to help her and she squeezed them, closing her eyes and tilting her head as she furrowed her brows, causing a small wrinkle to appear on her smooth forehead.

When she was done, you knew that it had thankfully worked. Because Celebrimbor yelped out of fear as you kissed the top of your daughter’s head and ran up to him immediately.

“Uncle… Uncle, calm down, please, shh, you are alright now,” you put your hands on his arms and his scared eyes found yours with relief.

“Oh, my darling (Y/N), I have been in such a haze… He… He made me…” Celebrimbor tried to find the right words.

“I know, I am so sorry…” You whispered, your voice full of pain and regret.

“No. It is me who is sorry, my sweet child. I have given you to him so easily, so freely,” he caressed your face with his trembling hands.

“And I am glad that you did,” you sobbed and he furrowed his brows. “And I cannot ever say that I regret it for he has given me my daughter,” you confessed.

“He might never get The Nine,” Celebrimbor changed the subject and you nodded, agreeing with him as you sniffed your tears back. You handed him the pouch with the Rings and glanced upon the doors.

“Go,” you pressed your forehead to his. “Take them away from him,” you whispered. “As far away as you can. Quick, we do not have much time. Use the opportunity that he still thinks you are under Almárea’s control.”

Your uncle nodded at you sadly. He kissed your forehead and squeezed the pouch inside his hand before looking at your daughter with a sigh. There was no hatred in his eyes but a glimpse of sadness, disappointment and fear mixed altogether. 

You watched him leave and Almárea reached her hand out after him but you stopped her.

“Daddy will get angry,” she looked up at you, surprised to witness what you had just done.

“Believe me, it is for the better,” you told her and held her hand. “We must leave now, too.”

“No,” she stood still and shook her head. “Not without daddy.”

“Almárea, we must go. We must leave, far away from here. We must go to your grandmother in Mithlond,” you tried to lure her in by the mention of your mother.

But she had seen her once in her life and the meeting had been brief. They shared no bond, therefore Almárea was not easily convinced.

“Not without daddy,” she repeated.

“Almárea, I beg of you…” Your eyes filled with tears again. You knew Sauron would be back any moment to check on Celebrimbor’s progress and you did not want to be there when he would see that your uncle was gone with The Rings.

But what you did not want even more was to abandon your daughter.

So, you stayed with her and waited. You did not even know what you were waiting for – was it your death? Would he get rid of you now when you were not useful to him anymore and after you had betrayed him in such a way; convincing your daughter to release Celebrimbor from her control and letting him flee?

You would find out very soon because the doors of the forge opened and there he was, walking confidently inside with a smirk upon his face.

“Daddy, I am so sorry!” Almárea cried out immediately and ran up to him while you looked away, wincing from the ache you felt in your heart. Your eyes filled tears at her words. You only hoped he would not lash out at her. “I trusted mummy and she tricked me! She gave The Rings back to uncle Celebrimbor and let him go!” Almárea explained and cried.

Long silence occurred and even though you were not looking in their direction, you could feel the atmosphere changing in an instant. Thickening.

“Mummy is a twisted, treacherous little witch, so it seems,” Sauron drawled out and you turned your head around to lay your angry eyes upon him with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“How dare you!” You snapped. Who was he to call you twisted or treacherous? “I swore no loyalty to you, shadow of Morgoth!”

“Yes, you have!” He yelled at you and Almárea flinched, taking a step back. He walked past her to approach you angrily but you could not move away because there was a wall behind you. “You bound yourself to me on the day of our wedding!” Sauron pushed you, causing your back to hit the wall. “Where is he?! Where are The Rings?!”

“Daddy, we do not know!” Almárea ran up to you two and tugged on his robe. You avoided her gaze because you did not want her to see the fear and pain in your eyes. It would only scare her more. “Daddy, it is not mummy’s fault that she is weak. You told me that yourself!”

Sauron’s face was so close to yours that your noses nearly brushed against each other. His breath was heavy and hot, full of anger. You remained cold and still with tears streaming down your cheeks. And even though you did not recognise your husband and his eyes were dark and empty now, you dared to reach out to his cheeks gently. You cupped his face delicately, which caused his brows to furrow and his eyes to widen slightly out of surprise.

“Annatar,” you whispered softly. “Annatar, my love, come back to me. You bound yourself to me, too, dark spirit. Obey me. Release me,” you pleaded, desperately, feeling as if you were losing your sanity.

There was pure confusion on Sauron’s face at that moment. He took a step back, away from you and away from your hands but as they were falling down, you tried to extend them further and reach him once more.

“You are pathetic,” he pointed out, coldly. “I shall find those Rings sooner or later. The only thing you did was to slow me down but you will never stop me.”

“Let it be then… Whatever I can do, I shall,” you whispered.

He opened his mouth to say something but you were interrupted by a group of people walking inside the forge. It was Celebrimbor with a few guards. For one, foolish moment, you sighed with relief, expecting rescue.

He nodded at you softly to let you know that The Rings were safe and far away from your husband. You reached your hands out to grab Almárea and pull her closer to you. She let you and wrapped her arms around you to comfort you after her father’s anger.

“Where are The Rings?!” Sauron abandoned your side to walk down the stairs from Celebrimbor’s study into the ruins of the forge.

“Far from your reach by now,” your uncle answered.

“Then you are going to bring them to me and place them in my hand,” Sauron said, trying to remain calm. 

“Your hand will never touch another Ring again,” Celebrimbor assured him.

You moved closer to the railing with Almárea still clinging to you, so you both could see better whatever was happening downstairs.

The Commander of the City Guard ordered the rest to arrest your husband. Almárea sobbed and hid her face in the fabric of your gown as you caressed her back, soothingly.

You watched the soldiers stand in a circle around Sauron and point their swords at him. You put your hand on the back of your daughter’s head, making sure to press her face a bit deeper into your gown to avoid her seeing any glimpse of the scene underneath you by accident.

“By order of the true Lord of Eregion, you, Sauron, are hereby–” the Commander began before freezing.

In fact, they all froze. They all froze and trembled, whimpering slightly because they had absolutely no idea what was happening to them.

“You think it was only you and your weak fosterling who put themselves in my power?” Sauron asked with contempt as he addressed your uncle.

He raised his hands slightly and all the soldiers surrounding him killed one another instead of him. You watched in terror as their blades cut through their bodies and then they fell down, lifeless, onto the ground.

Almárea sobbed and yelped, managing to get out of your grasp due to your moment of weakness.

“Daddy!” She cried out for him. She was scared that the sound she had heard was of their blades cutting through him.

But it was not. And you watched her run down the stairs and ignore the lifeless bodies, as if they meant nothing to her, only to cling to Sauron’s waist. He wrapped one of his hands around her to pull her closer as he raised an eyebrow at Celebrimbor in a challenging manner.

The Commander tried to approach your husband carefully, extending his sword.

“Do not hurt the child,” your uncle ordered but there was no need.

Sauron did what you had done a while earlier and pressed Almárea’s face deeper into his robe as she was clinging to him. And when there was a guarantee she could not see anything, he twisted the wrist of his free hand and the Commander froze before turning the blade around and killing himself with it.

Only when his body hit the floor, Sauron let go of your daughter and allowed her to move. She looked up at him as if she was waiting for an order or a task to be given.

“You shall take control over him again and tell me where The Nine are,” your husband said.

“Almárea, no!” You screamed from the top of the stairs. “Almárea, please!”

“Are you sleepy again, my love?” Sauron looked up to ask you with irony.

You chose to be silent. To be put to sleep for gods know how long, to lose control of your own body and to be unaware of your surroundings was not what you wanted to happen once again.

MASTERLIST

[idksmtms]

Plié, Jeté, Relevé (Ballet Master!Cillian Murphy x Ballerina!reader)

A/N: Here you go my lovelies! I have literally never done ballet in my entire life, so any knowledge of this has come from watching tiktoks of ballerinas, movies with ballerinas in them, or my best guesses… anywaysssss, I hope you enjoy it! 

Also, would highly recommend watching the performance of Still Life at the Penguin Cafe on youtube, the music and the dancing is *chefs kiss* 

Summary: You were ready to admit that you hadn’t been at your best the past week or so, but surely you hadn’t been so bad as to deserve this much wrath from Mister Murphy… 

Word count:  3,750 

Trigger Warnings: she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, mean!Cillian, SMUT, dub-con bc of the power imbalance (?), fingering (technically?), humiliation (not as a kink tho), only reader orgasms, depiction of toxic teaching environment, (please let me know if I missed any) 

Disclaimer: This is written purely for fictional purposes and for the sake of writing. No disrespect is intended to the real people portrayed/concerned in this scenario. 

Always appreciate comments, likes, and reblogs :)

If anyone out there believed in the stereotype that all Irish people were happy and jovial then they clearly hadn’t met your ballet master. The man may speak with a lilting musical accent but there was not a thing jovial or happy about him. The master was harsh, verging on cruel. If anyone was caught slacking even the littlest bit, something that would go unnoticed by the rest of the troupe, his voice would crack like a whip through the studio. 

Recently, that whip had been directed at you. You knew you weren’t doing your best. You had hit a rough patch in your entire life. You had been late more times than ever before, more times than you ever would usually be, more times than you would like. And your dancing had been affected as well. Your posture wasn’t straight enough, your pliés weren’t deep enough, your toes not pointed enough. Everything was going wrong, and while you had hoped it wasn’t noticeable, Mr Murphy never failed to find every SINGLE one of your mistakes. 

Today differed in no way. You had dilly-dallied a little too long while getting ready in the morning, only to end up running late for rehearsal. It was no more than five minutes, but from the start of training it was the rule that all ballerinas must be lined up by the barre at exactly ten o’clock every day. For every minute you were late, the worse your punishment got. Usually if someone hit the five minute mark, they went home and sprained their ankle on purpose for an excuse. 

At four minutes, you had run into the hallway outside the studio and thrown your bag onto the ground, disregarding the sound of your water bottle rolling away and one of your keychains cracking under the weight of your things. At five, you were throwing the door open and running inside, slipping into the back of the line and getting into first position. 

Mr Murphy paused in his speech to gaze at you. You stared straight ahead, refusing to look directly at him. Slowly, his eyebrow rose, scrutinising you with a frown that made shame curl in your stomach and tears make themselves known behind your eyes. He slowly brought his hands together, rubbing them as he sighed and began shaking his head. 

“Kind of you to join us,” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he made his way closer to you, stepping leisurely, dragging out the fear that made your throat hurt. He stood a few feet away, staring at you in that impenetrable way of his, ice eyes sharp and painful wherever they gazed. He clapped his hands once. “Girls, turn and look at Ms. Y/L/N.” He waited until each of them had turned in their spots, some craning their heads to the side to make sure they were looking at you lest they somehow disobey him. You could see the pity, the sympathy, the smug triumph in each of the girls’ eyes, the frowns and subtle smirks, and you could do nothing other than keep staring ahead of you as your hands and knees suddenly began to tremble. “What is wrong with her?” 

He didn’t ask it in a rude or incredulous way, but as if you were a diagram in a textbook, and this was simply an exercise the students were completing. You were sure your shame was visible on your face, the embarrassment turning your spine to liquid. One of the girls put her hand up, near the front of the room, and you only recognised her for the little kiss-ass she was once she spoke. She had always been that way, desperate for Mr Murphy. Always at the front of the line, always gleeful at the downfall of others, always ready to point out any mistakes. And you were always happy to watch her desperation help her in no way whatsoever. A lot could be said about Mr Murphy, but favouritism was not something he had ever displayed. Whichever ballerina was doing well, recognisably well, was given her dues, and it was left at that. 

“She’s not wearing her tights and leotard, or at least, she’s wearing sweatpants over them. Her pointe shoes are dirty, and her hair isn’t in a bun.” You could almost imagine her satisfied little smirk when she finished speaking, that evil little smile that you had always wanted to punch off her face. One swing, you thought, just one swing… 

“Correct,” he simply responded, threading his fingers through each other and raising his eyebrow at you again, as if confused and annoyed at you for not doing something. “Leave, get your shit together, and then come back inside. If you have not returned within ten minutes, don’t bother returning to rehearsal ever again.” He nudged his chin in the direction of the door and you nodded obediently, eyes downcast as you stood up straight and slowly walked back out. 

When the door was closed behind you once more, you stood silently for a minute, eyes clenched shut and hands curled into fists at your sides. You pressed out a scream behind your pursed lips, teeth clenched so hard your jaw began to hurt. You slammed the heel of your hand against the side of your head again and again and again until your shoulder hurt a little from the motion and your brain felt sufficiently jumbled. Your chest was heaving and you were overwhelmed with rage. You wanted to kick something, to throw something, to go back in there and rip that bitch’s hair out of her bun. You resolved to pulling your pointe shoes off and lobbing them across the hallway as hard as you could, letting out another clenched scream before walking all the way down to pick them up and bring them back. 

You stood in front of your bag and took three deep breaths. You picked up your water bottle from where it had rolled between another two of the ballerinas’ bags, and took huge gulps of water until you felt a little less sweaty with anger. You checked the time on your phone to make sure you hadn’t wasted your ten minutes, then set about carefully pulling off your joggers, folding them up, and placing them inside your duffel. You pulled out a new pair of pointe shoes, cursing yourself for not having prepared them in time and preemptively wincing at the blisters you knew you were going to get by the end of rehearsal. You walked down to the bathroom at the end of the hall in the pointe shoes, hoping to at least break them in a little bit with the short time you had, and used the mirror to quickly pull your hair into a bun, securing it with pins in a practised dance you had learned from years of repetition. You checked yourself once more in the mirror and then looked down at your phone before sprinting full on back to the room and sliding through the doors. You made it just in time. 

Mr Murphy glanced at you as you slipped into position at the back of the line, following the exercises he had been calling out to the ballerinas while you had been out. He methodically looked at every inch of your body, from your pointe shoes to your pink tights and black leotard, from the careful set of your bun to the determined set of your brow and sheen of sweat on your temples. He didn’t say anything directly to you, and you took it as a win. 

At the halfway point, you were all allowed a little break to drink water and have a rest before you switched from exercises to rehearsals for your next performance. You were all practising for your various roles in a performance of ‘Still Life at the Penguin Cafe’, and though you would have to wear a huge mask of a ram on your head, you were ecstatic for the performance. While it wasn’t technically a solo, you were the centre of the piece, being the only one not dressed as a penguin. Now, everything felt so precarious. You couldn’t quite be sure Mr Murphy wouldn’t take the role from you after the past two weeks spent in a slump, and the worry was becoming your ever-present companion. 

Just as the girls were all leaving the room to get water and lounge around on the floor of the hallway, Mr Murphy cleared his throat and snapped his fingers at you. 

“Ms. Y/L/N,” and he pointed at the spot right in front of him. It took everything within you not to sprint to the spot. You took careful, measured, steps and stopped a few feet in front of him, spine straight and head held high. You weren’t sure where to look. You could never meet his eyes, something in your soul was opposed to it, so you chose a spot on the wall just next to his head. 

“You will stay for another hour at the end of the session to make up for your failures this morning, understood?” He raised both his eyebrows, hands on his hips. You closed your eyes, trying not to burst into tears like a child throwing a tantrum on the spot. You nodded, whispered a ‘yes, sir’ in a clogged voice, and waited until he dismissed you to walk out of the room. 

You sat down by your bag with a sigh, arms slung over your knees as you cradled the water bottle close and pressed your face to it. You closed your eyes and allowed your head to dip down as some of your friends came to sit around you, offering pats of sympathy and words of comfort. You tried to smile, nodded in thanks, but you just wanted to curl up into a ball and never get back up. 

The next few hours were spent going through each section of the dance. You felt lucky that you didn’t get to the Ram piece, you were sure you couldn’t hold it together long enough for that, only to be doused with cold water at the thought that you needed to stay longer afterward. 

When rehearsal was over, Mr Murphy dismissed everyone right on the dot. He didn’t acknowledge you as the girls started leaving, the chatter slowly beginning to rise as they reached the door. For a moment you wondered if you could get away with leaving with everyone else, but just as you reached the door he called out “ten minutes at most, Ms Y/L/N, then I want you back in here.” Your bones seemed to disappear and you thought you would collapse to the floor in a heap of mushy flesh. Instead you nodded and wobbled your way outside to chug what was left of your water bottle, refill it, then chug the contents again as tears of exhaustion slipped from the corners of your eyes and mingled with the sweat dampening the hair by your temples and ears. 

The ten minutes were up far too quickly and you stood with a groan, heading to the door once more. You gazed at the room from the door, the light hardwood floors, the wall of mirrors and the bar spanning the length of the room, the huge windows letting in swaths of natural light. You often forgot how beautiful the space was. 

You walked slowly to where Mr Murphy stood, typing something on his phone and moving the speaker to face the room again. You stood before him, hands clasped and eyes downcast, waiting for instructions. For a while, he didn’t say anything. He was no longer on his phone, his hands hanging by his sides, and he stared at you. Every few seconds you glanced, trying to glimpse what was going to happen, but he just continued watching you, stoic as ever. 

You could never tell what he was thinking. Never once had you been able to guess at his thought process, to figure out what was going on in his head. Maybe that was one of the reasons he intimidated you so much. 

He walked closer, so close the toes of his shoes almost touched the toes of yours and you gulped, staring at the contrast, the black and the pink, the background of wood. His hand came up and he tapped up under your chin with the side of his index finger, waiting for you to lift your head. When you did, your entire face felt hot under the skin. He was so close, you could see the freckles splashed on his skin, the careful set of his cheekbones and jaw. You gulped. His eyes were so much more terrifying up close. 

“You’ve been given a gift,” he began, slow and firm, “your ability, your natural rhythm, that is a gift. Unless you put in effort to finetune this gift, it goes to waste. Do you understand what I’m saying?” You nodded but he shook his head once. “Speak.” 

“Yes sir,” you breathed out quickly, gulping when your mouth was closed again. 

“I’m not sure you do, though,” and it felt like the hammer falling. His eyes seemed to harden a little, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “The past two weeks all I have seen is a sloppy, unprincipled, uncommitted dancer who deems merely showing up a success.” Each word was a stab to some part of you, and it took everything not to wilt completely to the floor. “You have been given one of the more difficult roles in the performance, and I once believed you deserved it. For the life of me, I cannot remember why.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you closed your eyes, throat bobbing as the despair that felt inevitable finally began to land. 

He went silent, and that felt worse somehow. The backs of your eyelids began to burn and you clenched your hands tighter around each other, hoping the little pain it brought would distract from the tears. You berated yourself in your head. You yelled in your mind that this was a pathetic display, that it would be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done if you began to cry in front of him. He would think less of you, it would only confirm what he believed; you were weak. When you opened your eyes again, one traitorous tear slipped out and down your cheek. You could feel the hot, ticklish track it made down the skin. If you didn’t know better, you thought you saw Mr Murphy’s eyes soften. 

He breathed out, long and tired, and reached up to gently wipe the tear away with his thumb. Your breath caught in your throat. His hand was warm. Your chest felt tight. His skin was soft. You stared into his eyes. He left the side of his hand against your face, as if allowing himself to feel the skin. Something in your stomach writhed impatiently. Everything seemed to have changed within a second. Some deep seated urge whispered in your ear to open your mouth and lick his thumb. You shivered. 

“Turn around,” his voice was low, rough, and you almost moaned at the sound. You gulped again, but obeyed almost instantly. You heard some shuffling, and then the music started, the slow long notes interspersed with the quick little strums, a beautiful, almost joyful piece of music. Then Mr Murphy was pressed right against your back, and suddenly the music was secondary. His chest, firm, solid, was moulded to your back. You could feel the soft fabric of his black shirt, the puffs of his breaths against the back of your neck. Your entire body shivered. He was warm, like a heater on a middle setting, and if you weren’t so tense, you would melt against him. You could feel his nose against your head as he bent slightly. You could feel his lips graze the shell of your ear as he whispered “relax.” You tried, forcing your muscles to loosen like you would before a performance. 

His hands trailed down your arms, his fingertips running down your biceps, then your forearms until you shivered against him again. When he reached your wrists, he hooked his own hands under them and began raising them in time with the music. You turned your head to the right, watched his hand raise your own, your lips parted and breaths heavy. You couldn’t move past the feeling of him pressed to your back. 

You almost missed the cue to move, almost, and pulled away from him slowly, carefully, using the measured steps required by the music. You left your right hand in his, just the barest touch of your fingertips against his, the illusion of contact as you moved to the left, feet lifting high. His eyes seemed to pierce through you, and suddenly you enjoyed the feeling in a sick, scary way. You walked forward until you were in line with Mr Murphy, still an arm’s length away before he stepped forward and your arms moved to a waltz position. He settled into the space, gripping your hands firmly in his. He was pressed as close as he could be, closer than your actual partner would be for the dance, and you set your eyes on his face. Your pulse thrummed in your ears, you were in your element. 

You went through all the steps of the dance like you had been born knowing it. Your bodies were like water as they moved, smooth, graceful. You hadn’t felt this intune to the music in a long time, hadn’t felt this much like a dancer in a long time. You could almost see the crowd in front of you, the blinding lights, the smooth fabric of the dress. 

At the final step, Mr Murphy gripped your hand and spun you into him, changing the ending of the dance. You gasped as you leaned back into his chest. His head was bent down, pressing his face into your hair. You were panting, torso moving up and down quickly but trapped in the confines of his arms crossed over you. You leaned your head back a little, pressing the curve of your skull into the curve of his neck as he pressed his cheek to the side of your head. The music was fading out, and the only sounds in the room were your mingling breaths, heaving into the air of the room. 

His left palm pressed against your stomach, firm and insistent, but you couldn’t be bothered to look down. It seared into your already boiling skin and you closed your eyes. You tuned into the sensation of his hand slowly sliding down, bit by bit, inching down over your stomach then pressing against your pelvis. You gasped as you felt his fingertips brush over the leotard just at the top of your pussy. Your hand moved behind you, gripping his sides, clenching into the soft fabric of his shirt. 

He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily against the side of your head, and you didn’t stop him. His hand moved farther down, pressing against the softness atop your core. Gently, his index finger moved to the centre line and began pressing in. You lifted up on your toes a little when you felt the pressure through the fabric, the indent of his finger pressing against your clit. You were hot and wet, he could feel the heat emanating from your core against his hand.

He kept his finger pressed there until you became restless, impatient, pressing your hands a little harder against his ribs. Slowly, keeping the pressure, he moved his finger down until he was pressing against your hole. The warm tendrils of pleasure slowly undulated up your insides. He repeated the motion, up then down and pressing a little harder against your hole. 

You breathed out heavily, shakily, and bent your knees to press a little harder into the feeling. 

Up, down, press. Up, down, press. He circled your clit through the fabric, pressing against the pulsing little bud. Up, down, press, drag up, drag down, press. You were panting into the air, face contorted, mouth up and head tilted up, resting against his shoulder. Your eyes were screwed shut, hips moving to chase the motions. He didn’t say anything, just breathed heavily against your ear, held you tighter against his body. 

You were both standing in the middle of the large studio, bathed in the early evening light. Your hands clenched a little harder against his sides. The warm tendrils were lasting longer, becoming more frenzied, curling up into your stomach and making your hole flutter. His right hand moved up and cupped your breast, gripping firmly and burning the heat of his hand into the flesh. 

You were engulfed by him, wrapped up in both his arms as he pressed his fingers harder and quicker against the seam of your core, moving up and down, pressing and releasing. He ran the edge of his thumbnail against the fabric over your nipple and your pelvis shook. You writhed in his arms at the spark it shot to your core, at the electric pulse it created and ultimately pushed you over the precipice. A moan, a high-pitched whine shot from your mouth, echoing in the room. You pressed yourself so hard against him he almost lost his balance, moving one foot back to keep the two of you upright. Your hands hurt from how stiff they became clenched into the fabric of his shirt. 

Slowly, he released the pressure against your core. He grazed his finger up until he could press his hand to your stomach again. He left it there and the two of you heaved breaths in sync. You began to flutter your eyes open, still lost in the blood rushing through your head. His right hand came up and gripped your chin, pushing it so you faced to the left where his head had dropped down. He leaned back a little, you tilted forward a smidge, your eyes met. Your lips were still parted, his mirrored. Then he surged forward, pressing his mouth to yours, his nose sliding into the crease between your cheek and nose. He tasted warm and minty. His lips were plush and cushiony soft. He pulled away and you looked into his eyes again. 

Neither of you said a word.

Taglist: @4ria790

[kitkins13]

shared from Click's subreddit:

Trump actually cheated and there's time for a recount but we need to act NOW!

https://www.reddit.com/r/TheClickOwO/s/KTdyrF1AdD

idk how accurate any of this is but if even some is true I really hope something can be done

(post text is below the cut)

Not enough people are talking about this and there's still time.

Trump did actually cheat and someone compiled all the evidence on twitter: https://x.com/Espaking2/status/1854287198331515005

Edit:

If you don't have twitter, this will show most of the thread but may not have the entire thing: https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1854287198331515005.html

People are reposting and saving it because from what I saw in the comments, Elon has been deleting any evidence against trump tampering the election.

- Trump said a few weeks back that he didn't need anymore votes, that he had more than enough.

- Trump also said he had a 'trick up his sleeve' to win.

- A bomb scare was called into areas where voting was taking place, so people would flee the areas and not vote.

- Ballot boxes were then set on fire by trump supporters.

-20 MILLION Ballots went missing. People only just got emails today about their ballots going missing, their signatures suddenly not being accepted, or some outright being destroyed if they didn't vote for trump.

- Trump has a long history of lying, cheating, blackmailing and bribing people to get what he wants.

Kamala was in the lead to win but literally after these ballots were lost and after the russian bomb scare, somehow trump ended up with the highest republican vote in over 20+ years.

- Russian software used for rigging elections was found being used.

All of the evidence is in that tweet but I've also saved a copy of everything in case Elon attacks that post too. There's a link to contact the white house and to (politely) demand a refund due to the evidence of trump cheating:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/contact/

Submit directly to the president.

Click the first option, select your reasoning as election security.

State these pieces of information as a paragraph:

-32 fake bomb threats were called into democratic leaning poll places, rendering polls to be closed for at least an hour

- a lot of people reporting their ballots weren't counted for various reasons that are not very sound seeming (signature invalidation, information that vote counter could not have had)

This all occured in swing states (PA, Nevada, Georigia, ETC.)

- This is all too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hinting of foul play

- Directly state that an investigation for tampering/fraud is required, not just a recount

Again, there is not much time, please, please, please make this spread like wildfire, there's still time to do this!

(trigger warning, SA

(trump is not a good person. Aside from a history of the above and dodgy legal activities, he also has a long history of SA towards women and children. Trump is a convicted p*dophile and project 2025 will strip away the rights from anyone who isn't a cis white man.

Please, please, please spread this information, read through the twitter evidence thread and share it. There's still time to demand an investigation but we have to act NOW

[emjayewrites]

fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (9/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, angst, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @perfecttrashface @2serenity0 @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @sucredreamer @julescpu @tchouathon @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @bbgkoo @lottins-only @elyseesarchive @thearchieves @pepfectionary @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @judesbabymamas @whoevenisthiz

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be removed from the tag list! Thank you again for your love and appreciation! This chapter may be triggering to some so please don’t read if it makes you uncomfortable.

The late afternoon sun filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as Zuri lay sprawled on her back in Aurelién's — well, their — bed. She still wasn’t used to thinking of it that way, even though she’d made the move upstairs to his loft permanently. Everything felt so intimate now, so settled, yet there was still that electricity between them. And today was no different. Aurélien had a way of making her forget every thought that wasn’t about him.

Zuri's body hummed with pleasure as her legs shook uncontrollably, her skin buzzing from the constant attention he was giving her. Aurelién had insisted they stay in bed for hours, and after what felt like an eternity of stolen kisses and lingering touches, they'd predictably ended up where they always did — unable to keep their hands off each other.

He was between her legs now, his broad shoulders keeping them spread as he made sure she felt every flick and swirl of his tongue. The sensation was overwhelming — pleasure so sharp and all-consuming it made her toes curl into the sheets.

She glanced down and saw his eyes on her, piercing and intense. His mouth never left her, his tongue expertly switching between lapping at her clit and plunging into her soaked heat. He sucked softly on her clit, a sound that made her gasp and her thighs begin to tremble harder.

Aurélien’s gaze was dark, a silent command for her to keep her focus. His tongue delved deep into her, and the sensation made her moan uncontrollably, her back arching off the bed. It was too much, too good — she closed her eyes, losing herself in the waves of pleasure building inside her.

Slap.

Her thigh stung from the firm tap of his hand, and she whimpered as her eyes flew open to meet his again. He was watching her, making sure she knew that he was in control.

"Eyes on me," Aurelien growled against her skin, his voice low and rough. The rasp in his voice sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to her core.

Zuri swallowed, her gaze locked on his even as her body fought to shut her eyes, to give in to the intensity of the sensation. But he wouldn’t let her. His tongue was merciless, moving faster, switching back and forth between teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves and driving deep inside her. He was everywhere, his lips pulling her apart, making her feel exposed and raw under his intense focus.

Her legs began to close instinctively as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, but another sharp slap to her inner thigh stopped her. She whimpered again, feeling the pressure mounting within her as she tried to contain herself.

"Stay open for me," he murmured, never lifting his mouth from her. His lips pressed hard against her slick skin as he alternated between slow, deep strokes with his tongue and quick, relentless flicks over her clit. Her entire body was trembling, each nerve ending alight as his hands tightened on her thighs, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

Her legs shook violently as she struggled to hold on, her fingers clawing at the sheets, desperate for something to ground her. Aurelien’s tongue worked her with expert precision, driving her closer and closer to the edge.

"Please…" Zuri gasped out, her chest rising and falling rapidly as the sensations became too much to handle. Her mind was a haze of need, and she could barely think, barely breathe. But still, his eyes stayed on hers, demanding every ounce of her attention, every ounce of her surrender.

"Not yet," he murmured, pulling his mouth away briefly to press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, only to dive back in with a renewed intensity. His tongue plunged deep into her again, and the sensation made her entire body convulse. He was relentless, drawing her closer and closer to a release that felt just out of reach.

The world narrowed down to the feel of his mouth, the wet heat of his tongue, and the way he looked up at her, watching every reaction with an intensity that only fueled the fire inside her.

And when his teeth grazed her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her entire body, Zuri couldn’t hold back any longer. Her orgasm ripped through her, her body arching off the bed as she cried out his name. Aurelien didn’t stop, didn’t relent, his tongue still moving in deep strokes as her walls pulsed around it, dragging every last ounce of pleasure out of her.

Her chest heaved, her skin damp with sweat, and her thighs trembled as the waves of pleasure slowly ebbed. Aurelien finally pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening with her arousal, but his eyes still burned with desire as he moved up her body, planting kisses along her trembling thighs, her stomach, and her breasts, before settling beside her.

He leaned down to brush his lips against her temple, whispering softly, "Bonne fille (Good girl)."

Aurelien hovered over her, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous edge that always made her both melt and want to roll her eyes at him. He kissed her lips softly at first, then with more intensity, as if savoring the taste of her pleasure that lingered there.

He studied her face, the corners of his mouth twitching with a tease he couldn’t keep to himself. "You should see yourself when you come," he murmured, brushing his nose lightly against hers. "It’s… impressive."

Zuri let out a breathless chuckle, rolling her eyes and shaking her head, though she couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips. "Impressive, huh?" she retorted, giving him a mock glare. "Remind me to get a mirror next time, just for you."

"Wouldn’t mind it," Aurelien shot back with a grin, his hand resting possessively on her hip as he trailed a thumb over the curve of her waist. "You’re beautiful, and I’ll take every chance to remind you." He pressed another kiss to her lips, this one softer, lingering, as if he couldn’t bear to pull away just yet.

She scoffed, unable to keep from laughing as he kept that cheeky look on his face, but the warmth in his voice softened her defenses. He was always like this—playful and affectionate, even when he was holding her under his spell, making her toes curl and her pulse race.

He shot her a lazy grin, his fingers brushing over her flushed cheek. "I could keep you in bed all day," he said, his tone half-joking but laced with unmistakable hunger.

Zuri bit her lip, fighting the grin threatening to spread across her face. "Oh, is that right?" she teased, arching an eyebrow at him. "You think you could handle that?"

Aurelien chuckled, his eyes darkening with promise as he trailed kisses down her neck, his voice a low, rich murmur against her skin. "Well, guess we’ll just have to test that theory."

His lips moved over hers again, deep and consuming, his hands sliding down to cup her waist, pulling her close until she was melting into him. He nipped her bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan from her before he pulled back slightly.

"You want me to fuck you, Zuri?" he murmured, his gaze heavy with anticipation. She nodded, breathless, her heart pounding. But just as she tilted her head up to kiss him again, the shrill ring of his phone cut through the room. Aurelien groaned in annoyance, rolling his eyes as he kissed his teeth and leaned back, reaching over to grab his phone. He settled onto his side, bringing her along with him as he glanced at the screen, sighing as he recognized the caller.

It was Cama, and before Aurelien could say anything, Jude’s voice piped up on the other end, unmistakable and teasing. "You better bring your ass over here, Aurélien. Don’t tell me you forgot about us already."

Aurelien snorted, rolling his eyes as he muttered, "Nah, I’m with ZuZu, so we’re gonna have to reschedule. I got a little distracted." He threw Zuri a wink, which made her laugh quietly as she nestled into his side.

"Come on, man, you’ve been with her all week," Jude protested, and Cama’s voice followed with a quick, "Yeah, bring her if you want, but get over here."

With a sigh, Aurelien hit the mute button and turned to Zuri, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You good with me spending some time with them?" he asked. "They’ve been harassing me for days."

Zuri smiled, her cheeks still flushed. "Go ahead, I need a break anyway. I can barely walk straight as it is."

Aurelien laughed at that, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, alright." He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, then unmuted his friends. "I’ll be over soon. Don’t have too much fun without me," he said before hanging up.

He stretched as he rose from the bed, glancing down at her with a grin. "I’m gonna take a shower before I head over,” he said, starting toward the bathroom. Pausing at the door, he shot her a playful look. "You wanna join me?"

Zuri lifted a brow. "Aurelien, what did I just say?" Her voice was firm, but the amusement in her eyes gave her away.

He held up his hands in mock surrender, backing toward the shower. "Alright, alright… my bad. Sheesh."

Still, he couldn’t help himself, slipping his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slowly, almost temptingly, pulling them down. He let them fall to the floor, and there he stood, completely bare, his toned body a tempting sight, with his arousal already evident. He turned back to her, a smirk tugging at his lips. "You sure though? I could go for a shower quickie. Promise I won't be too rough this time."

Her eyes drifted down, lingering for a moment before meeting his gaze again, her lips curving with a smirk of her own. "One quickie wouldn’t hurt."

His eyes lit up, and he chuckled as he stepped back, turning on the shower, adjusting the temperature as the steam began to rise around him. "And," he said, throwing her a teasing look over his shoulder, "I can put on the jet streams…"

Before he could finish, she was already hopping off the bed, her decision made, and following him into the shower.

The Santiago Bernabéu was buzzing with energy, fans filling every corner as Real Madrid took on VfB Stuttgart. Zuri sat comfortably in her seat, glancing around the stadium, the electric atmosphere settling a contagious excitement in her. Beside her, Lila sipped on her drink, scrolling through her phone, her expression lighting up as she pulled up a picture and nudged Zuri.

"Look what Amara sent me," Lila grinned, showing her a selfie of Amara and Lewis on a private plane, captioned, "Next stop: Singapore 🏎️." Zuri leaned in to look, chuckling at the way Amara’s hand rested affectionately on Lewis’s shoulder while he focused on something off-camera.

"Singapore? Damn, she’s a ride-or-die for him," Zuri mused, and Lila nodded with a warm smile.

"Yeah, it took me a minute to open up to her," Lila admitted, lowering her voice a bit as the match was about to start. "But she’s good to him, and that’s all that matters, you know?"

Zuri nodded, her gaze drifting to the field. "Exactly. Lewis deserves someone solid." They shared a look of mutual understanding before focusing back on the match, occasionally chatting and cheering as the game picked up speed.

Real Madrid was playing with precision, and by the time the final whistle blew, they’d secured a 3-1 victory. The crowd erupted in cheers, and Zuri and Lila exchanged high-fives, riding the rush of excitement as they made their way down to the players’ area. They didn’t have to wait long before Aurélien and Jude appeared, Aurélien’s smile widening as he caught sight of Zuri. He crossed the short distance between them and greeted her with a lingering kiss, oblivious to the laughter from Jude and Lila.

"Oh, get a room," Jude teased, elbowing Aurélien with a smirk, while Lila joined in, rolling her eyes playfully.

Just then, Rodrygo came over, slinging an arm over Aurélien and Jude's shoulders. "We gotta celebrate! Hit up some clubs, yeah?"

Jude immediately shook his head, giving Lila a knowing look. "Nah, man, I’m chilling. Wanna hang out with my girl."

Aurélien nodded in agreement. "Same here. I’d rather keep it low-key."

Cama strolled up then, grinning as he gave Zuri and Lila side-hug greetings. "Alright, alright, maybe not a club, but we could do something chill — hit up a lounge or something?"

Lila’s eyes lit up. "Ooh, can we get hookah?" She asked eagerly, only to get a round of amused stares from the guys. Jude shot her a mock-serious look, shaking his head with a smirk.

"See? This is why I don’t want you going to Miami anymore. What do you know about hookah, Delilah Marie?" he teased, emphasizing her middle name.

Lila huffed, rolling her eyes and glancing at Zuri. "You wanna get hookah with me?"

Zuri shrugged with a smile. "Yeah, that sounds good to me. Maybe a mojito too."

"Yes!" Lila clapped her hands excitedly, doing a little jump.

Aurélien and Jude exchanged glances, rolling their eyes good-naturedly at the girls’ antics. But they followed along, laughing as the group made their way to a sleek lounge downtown. The vibe was perfect, a dimly lit interior with comfortable seating, tables scattered with hookahs and trays of tapas, and a chill, relaxed atmosphere.

The lounge hummed with low conversation and laughter, the air thick with the sweet, flavored smoke of hookah. As the group settled into their table, their waitress approached, a notepad in hand and a distracted smile on her lips. She glanced up and froze momentarily, her eyes lingering on Aurélien. Zuri noticed but didn't dwell on it, too preoccupied with the familiar ease between her and Aurélien.

Aurélien only had eyes for Zuri, his gaze warm and affectionate. "Get my usual, babe, and order whatever you want," he said, his voice soft and confident. Zuri smiled, ordering her drink and some tapas. The waitress took her order with an unmistakable edge to her voice, and although Zuri paid it no mind, she couldn't help but notice the waitress's semi-friendly attitude when taking Lila's order before stalking off, practically stomping away.

"What's her problem?" Lila muttered, raising an eyebrow. Zuri just shrugged, brushing off the weird interaction.

When the waitress returned with their drinks and plates, she dropped everything off with a hint of an attitude, her glare focused solely on Zuri. This time, Zuri raised a brow, confused but unwilling to let it ruin her evening. She and Lila took turns smoking the hookah, giggling as they attempted smoke tricks, laughing when they failed.

A little while later, Zuri excused herself to head to the restroom. Aurélien caught her hand before she could leave, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. "Don't take too long," he murmured against her lips, his smirk making her heart race.

In the bathroom, Zuri reapplied a fresh layer of lip gloss, taking a moment to appreciate how she looked in the mirror. As she stepped out, she nearly bumped into the waitress, who seemed to have been waiting for her. Zuri blinked, her confusion mounting.

"Uh…hi?" she greeted, the girl's persistent attitude finally starting to grate on her.

The waitress introduced herself, a smug smile curling her lips. "My name's Lia. Two months ago, I sucked Aurélien's dick, and he ghosted me."

Zuri's expression stayed neutral as she processed Lia's words, her slow blink followed by a nod. "And you think I care because…?"

Lia's confidence faltered. "Well… your boyfriend cheated on you."

Zuri let out a short laugh, shaking her head. "He didn't. And again, why do you think I care?" She tilted her head, a trace of amusement dancing in her eyes. "We weren't even together then."

Lia opened her mouth to say more, but Zuri had already had enough. "Look, I really have to get back to my man. Nice chat, I guess?" With that, she breezed past Lia and returned to the table.

Aurélien's face lit up when he saw her, but his smile dropped when he noticed the slight frown she wore. "What's wrong, ma belle?" he asked gently, cupping her chin and turning her face toward him.

Zuri sighed. "That waitress said she, uh… sucked your dick two months ago."

Aurélien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, confusion flickering across his features until something seemed to click. "Oh. Well, that happened before we were together," he clarified.

"I know." Zuri's voice was calm, her expression unbothered.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked, concern lacing his tone.

She shook her head, a soft smile returning to her lips. "No, I'm fine."

Her words melted away any lingering tension, and Aurélien's face lit up with relief. He kissed her forehead, pressing a warm, lingering kiss there before leaning back, his hand still resting at the small of her back.

The night continued, the girls laughing as they shared the hookah and sipped their mojitos, the boys ordering more tapas and joining in the fun. Lila blew a smoke ring, giggling as Zuri tried to do the same, their playful energy blending seamlessly with the laid-back vibe of the evening, but Zuri couldn't help the occasional glance toward Lia. Aurélien noticed and gently squeezed Zuri's hand, his eyes meeting hers with understanding.

As the evening drew to a close, Aurélien suggested they head out. "Shall we?" he said, his voice low and warm. Zuri nodded, and they bid farewell to Lila, making their way to Aurélien's car.

Once they were on the road, Zuri turned to Aurélien. "So, about what Lia said..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

Aurélien reached over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I should have told you about that," he admitted. "It was right when you arrived in Madrid. I'm sorry I didn't mention it."

Zuri nodded slowly, processing his words. "It's okay, I understand. We weren't exclusive then." She offered him a small smile. "I'm not upset, I just... wish you had told me, that's all."

"You're right, I should have been upfront," Aurélien said, his brow furrowing slightly. He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

Zuri's expression softened, and she gave his hand a squeeze. "I appreciate your honesty now. And I'm not bothered by what happened before we were together. I trust you, Aurélien."

He let out a relieved sigh, a warm smile spreading across his face. "You're amazing, you know that?" he murmured, his gaze filled with adoration.

Zuri chuckled, leaning in to peck his cheek. "I do now." She settled back in her seat, feeling the tension melt away. "Let's just enjoy the rest of the night, hmm?"

Aurélien nodded, his focus returning to the road, but his hand remained entwined with Zuri's, a content smile playing on his lips.

It had been a week since that evening at the lounge, yet the memory of Zuri’s unwavering trust was still imprinted in Aurélien’s mind, as vivid as if it had just happened. Her serene expression, the way she had dismissed Lia’s attempt to plant seeds of doubt without even a flicker of hesitation, spoke volumes about the faith she had in him. It was a moment that had shaken him to his core. Not because of the drama that Lia had tried to stir up, but because of the realization it sparked—he could no longer hide how he truly felt about her.

Their relationship had begun in chaos, a whirlwind arrangement neither had asked for, but somehow, over time, they had found something real. Something that felt like home. Aurélien knew he needed to show Zuri just how much she meant to him, beyond casual gestures and stolen kisses. He wanted to make her feel cherished, adored, and loved—because he did love her. Deeply, irrevocably, and maybe even a little recklessly.

Aurélien was never one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but for Zuri, he was willing to become an open book. Over the past few days, he had carefully laid out small, tangible reminders of how much she meant to him. In the bathroom drawer, he had tucked a handwritten note on delicate stationery that read, I love how you always steal my face cream. Your skin deserves the best. He had placed another note on her nightstand, scribbled in his neat handwriting: The way you laugh when you watch your favorite shows makes me smile every time. And in the kitchen, where he knew she’d find it when reaching for her morning coffee, he had left a third: Thank you for pretending not to notice when I dance like an idiot while making my smoothies.

But he hadn’t stopped there. He wanted to infuse their shared space with as much beauty and warmth as she brought into his life, so he’d filled their home with bouquets of her favorite flowers—vivid splashes of color that brightened every room. The scent of peonies and lilies lingered in the air, a fragrant reminder of his devotion.

This morning, he’d taken it a step further. A stack of crisp bills lay neatly on the marble kitchen counter, anchored by another one of his notes: Go spoil yourself today, ma belle. Get your hair and nails done—and maybe even buy a new outfit. I’ve got something special planned. The message was simple, but the thought behind it was anything but. Aurélien wanted Zuri to feel cherished, to know that she was worth every effort he could make and more.

As he stood in front of the mirror, running a hand through his freshly cut hair, his heart beat faster than he cared to admit. He adjusted his shirt, checked his watch, and tried to calm the nervous energy buzzing through his veins. His friends had given him no end of grief over how smitten he was, how utterly lovestruck he had become. But he didn’t care. This was Zuri, the woman who had turned his world upside down in the best possible way, and for her, he would do anything.

He wanted today to be perfect. More than that, he wanted Zuri to understand that she wasn’t just the woman he was forced to be with; she was the woman he chose, over and over again. He needed her to see that what they had wasn’t bound by obligation or circumstance. It was deeper, more profound, and every day, he found himself falling harder and faster.

_______________________________________________

Zuri stood in front of her vanity, admiring the curls that cascaded down her shoulders, freshly styled and glistening with the perfect amount of shine. Her nails were painted a deep, sultry burgundy, and her outfit—a silky, elegant dress that hugged her curves in all the right places—was something she’d picked out with Aurélien’s note in mind. The anticipation of whatever he had planned made her stomach flutter.

When she found him in the foyer, his eyes lit up as he took her in. He crossed the room in a few long strides, pulling her into a warm embrace. "You look beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with awe.

Zuri smiled, her heart doing a little flip. "All this pampering you insisted on has me feeling like a queen."

"Well, you are," he said simply, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Ready to go?"

She nodded, lacing her fingers with his as they headed out the door. The car ride was filled with soft music and the comfort of shared silence, and when they pulled up to the rooftop restaurant, Zuri’s breath caught in her throat.

Aurélien led her up to the terrace, which he had rented out entirely for the evening. Twinkling string lights and dozens of candles cast a golden glow over the space, creating a dreamy, almost ethereal atmosphere. A guitarist sat in one corner, strumming a soft, romantic melody that carried on the warm night air. The city skyline stretched out around them, glittering like a sea of stars.

Zuri’s eyes widened as she took it all in, her hand flying to her mouth. "Aurélien… this is… I don’t even have words," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

He turned to her, his smile soft and full of adoration. "Do you like it?" he asked, a hint of nervousness coloring his tone.

"Like it?" she echoed, tears welling in her eyes. "I love it. It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever done for me."

Relief flooded Aurélien’s features, and he guided her to their table, pulling out her chair with a flourish. As they sat down, the guitarist played a familiar tune, and Zuri felt her heart swell. They shared a meal of delicious courses—delicate tapas, savory entrées, and perfectly chilled wine—all while talking and laughing as if they were the only two people in the world.

Zuri couldn’t stop smiling, her cheeks aching with happiness. She watched Aurélien, her chest tightening with the sheer affection she felt for him. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight, his laughter genuine and infectious. Every time he reached for her hand, her pulse raced.

When dessert arrived—a decadent chocolate mousse topped with gold leaf and fresh berries—Aurélien set down his fork, looking suddenly serious. He took a deep breath, reaching across the table to hold her hands.

"Zuri," he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion, "I’ve been thinking a lot about us. About how we started and where we are now. I know this all began in a way neither of us expected, and it’s been… bumpy, to say the least." He gave a small laugh, and Zuri’s eyes softened.

"But the more time I spend with you," he continued, his grip on her hands tightening, "the more I realize how lucky I am. How grateful I am for every moment, every laugh, every little thing we’ve shared. I love you, Zuri. So much. And I want you to know that."

Tears spilled down Zuri’s cheeks, but they were happy tears. Her heart felt so full it might burst. "Aurélien," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you too. So much."

Aurélien’s smile broke across his face, wide and unrestrained, and he stood, pulling her into his arms. Their lips met in a kiss that was soft, lingering, and full of all the words they couldn’t say. The world fell away, leaving only the two of them, wrapped up in each other.

When they finally pulled apart, Aurélien brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Ready to head home?" he asked, his voice warm.

Zuri nodded, her heart still racing. "Yeah. Let’s go home."

Hand in hand, they left the rooftop, their love shining as brightly as the candles that had lit up their perfect night. The drive back was filled with the kind of comfortable silence that spoke volumes, each of them basking in the glow of shared love and understanding.

Back at home, the night continued in whispered promises and soft touches, two hearts finally admitting what they’d known all along. Their kisses grew deeper, more desperate, as they stumbled into the living room, barely making it to the couch before their passion threatened to consume them.

Zuri found herself straddling Aurélien’s lap, her dress riding up her thighs as she settled against him. His hands roamed over her back, pulling her closer until their bodies pressed together, heat radiating between them. Their mouths met in a feverish kiss, all tongues and breathless sighs, as the room seemed to melt around them.

"It’s so hot in here," Zuri murmured, her lips brushing against Aurélien’s as she pulled back for a moment, her eyes dark and wanting.

Aurélien’s gaze burned into hers, his fingers finding the halter strings of her dress. With one deft tug, he loosened the knots, and the fabric slipped down her chest, revealing her bare, pierced breasts. His breath caught, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You’re so beautiful," he whispered, dipping his head to take one of her hardened nipples into his mouth.

Zuri gasped, arching her back as pleasure coursed through her. The sensation of his tongue flicking against the cool metal of her nipple ring made her shiver, and she buried her hands in his hair, tugging gently. "Aurélien," she moaned, her voice trembling with need.

He hummed against her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her waist, holding her steady as he lavished her breasts with attention. "I’ve been thinking about this all night," he confessed, his voice husky. "About how much I wanted you."

Zuri bit her lip, her heart pounding as she felt his hardness pressing against her through his pants. Teasingly, she rocked her hips, grinding against him and earning a low groan that sent a thrill down her spine. "You’re not the only one," she teased, her smile playful.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she hiked up her dress, her hands moving to slip her underwear down her legs. She tossed the lacey garment aside, leaving herself bare against him. Aurélien’s eyes darkened with desire, and his hands quickly moved to unbuckle his belt, the clinking sound mingling with the rustle of fabric as he unzipped his pants and freed his erection.

Their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them before Zuri guided herself over him. She sank down slowly, taking him in inch by inch, and they both let out matching moans as their bodies connected. The sensation was overwhelming, and for a moment, neither of them moved, savoring the heat and intimacy of being so close.

Then Zuri began to move, rolling her hips in a rhythm that had them both gasping. Her hands braced against his chest, and Aurélien’s fingers dug into her hips, guiding her movements as she rode him. "Merde, Zuri," he groaned, his voice rough and full of longing. "You feel so good."

Zuri’s breath hitched, and she picked up the pace, her thighs burning as she moved faster, harder, chasing the high that built between them. "Aurélien," she panted, her head falling back, her body a perfect picture of ecstasy.

Aurélien’s hands slid up her back, pulling her closer as he thrust up to meet her, their bodies colliding in a desperate, frenzied dance. "That’s it, ma belle,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "Ride this dick just like that. You’re perfect."

Their shared desire reached a fever pitch, and they clung to each other, whispering "I love you" between gasps and moans. The world around them faded, leaving only the feeling of each other, the raw, unfiltered connection that made everything else seem insignificant.

They were on the brink of release when a sudden beep echoed through the room, signaling someone at the front gate. The noise shattered their orgasmic haze, and they froze, still tangled together, their heavy breathing the only sound as reality crashed back in.

Aurélien’s eyes met Zuri’s, wide with disbelief and frustration. "You have got to be kidding me," he groaned, his hands still holding her waist.

Zuri let out a breathless laugh, leaning her forehead against his. "Talk about timing," she muttered, though her smile was bright, their love still glowing between them despite the interruption.

The beep echoed through the house a second time, and Aurélien kissed his teeth in annoyance. He pulled Zuri off his lap gently and murmured, "I'll be right back." She shifted to the other side of the couch, breathless and confused, as he tucked himself back into his pants, zipping and buckling them before heading to the foyer.

Aurélien moved swiftly, irritation building as he checked the security system. On the camera panel, he saw a police vehicle parked in the driveway. "The fuck?" he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. He pressed a button to speak through the intercom.

"¿Hola? ¿Qué está pasando aquí?" ("Hello? What’s going on here?") he asked, his voice thick with concern.

From the car, an officer responded, "Señor Tchouaméni, hemos sido enviados a hacer un chequeo de bienestar para Zuri Awanto Nchang. Necesitamos verificar que esté bien." ("Mr. Tchouaméni, we've been asked to do a wellness check on Zuri Awanto Nchang. We need to ensure she is safe.")

Aurélien’s jaw clenched, rage simmering under his skin. He had a feeling he knew who was behind this. "Fuck," he hissed before buzzing the police in through the gates. He exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand over his face as he went back to the living room.

"Fix your dress, bébé," he instructed Zuri, trying to keep his tone even, though it was taut with tension.

Zuri’s eyes widened in alarm. "Why? What's going on?"

"The fucking police are here," he said, his voice laced with disbelief.

"What?! How the hell—"

"ZuZu, I'll explain in a second," Aurélien cut her off, his expression a mixture of anger and worry. "Just please fix yourself, okay?"

Zuri quickly retied the strings of her dress, hands fumbling slightly as anxiety set in. She bent down, grabbed her discarded panties, and slipped them on, just as the police knocked at the door. Aurélien took a deep breath, then strode over to answer.

Zuri followed him into the foyer, standing tall beside him despite the whirlwind of emotions she felt. Two officers stood on the porch: a stern-looking man with broad shoulders, and a petite woman with warm, brown eyes. The latter spoke first, her slight Spanish accent adding weight to her words.

"Señorita Awanto Nchang?" Officer Gutierrez addressed Zuri.

"Sí," Zuri replied, nodding.

"I'm Officer Gutierrez, and this is my partner, Officer Perreira," she introduced. "We're here to do a wellness check. Are you okay, ma'am?"

Zuri swallowed and nodded again. "Sí, I’m fine."

Officer Perreira studied Zuri intently, while Gutierrez continued. "Is everything safe for you here? Do you feel threatened in any way?"

Zuri’s brows knitted together in confusion and anger. "No, I’m safe," she assured them. "Why would you think otherwise?"

Officer Gutierrez glanced at her partner before explaining, "We were informed that your father requested this wellness check. He expressed… concern about your well-being."

Zuri’s mouth fell open. The anger that had started as a flicker was now a blazing flame. "My father?" she repeated incredulously. "He and I had a disagreement about something trivial, and now he’s sending the police to my fiancé’s home?" She gestured to Aurélien. "We’re engaged, for God’s sake."

Zeus, their massive dog, started barking from the hallway, likely sensing the tension in the room. His barks were loud and insistent, as if ready to defend his home. Aurélien turned, his patience running thin. "Zeus, calme," he called, his voice firm but gentle. He crossed over to the dog and knelt to soothe him, then led him downstairs to his crate.

While Aurélien was away, Officer Gutierrez took a step closer to Zuri, her gaze serious. "Ma'am, are you telling us the truth?" she asked quietly. "If there is anything at all, we are here to help."

Zuri’s nostrils flared in frustration. "Yes, I’m telling the truth," she insisted, her voice shaking. "I love Aurélien, and he loves me. My father… he’s just trying to control me because he doesn’t like that I’m living my life on my own terms."

Officer Gutierrez exchanged a look with her partner. "Your father made some serious allegations, including claims of… abuse," she said carefully.

Zuri’s eyes flashed with fury, and she defiantly lifted her arms, then turned to show her bare legs. "Do you see any bruises?" she demanded. "Any signs of harm? Because there are none. I’m not being abused, and I would never let anyone harm me. I’m safe here. I’m loved here."

Officer Gutierrez seemed to consider this, then nodded, satisfied. Aurélien returned just as she did, and the tension in his posture was palpable. Officer Perreira gave him a hard look before Gutierrez spoke again.

"Thank you for cooperating," she said, her voice a touch gentler. She handed Zuri a business card. "If anything changes or you ever need assistance, don’t hesitate to call."

Zuri took the card, her hand steady despite her anger. "Thank you," she replied curtly.

The officers turned and made their way back to their vehicle, and Aurélien and Zuri watched from the doorway as they drove away. Once the patrol car disappeared beyond the gates, Aurélien shut the front door with a heavy sigh. His expression darkened, and he muttered, "I'm going to fuckin' kill your father."

Zuri let out a humorless laugh. "Well, get in line," she retorted, crossing her arms.

Aurélien shook his head, the reality of the situation weighing heavily on him. "Do you realize how bad this could have gone?" he asked, his voice low and laced with worry. "If I acted out of line, if I so much as made one wrong move, they could’ve arrested me—or worse." He stalked back into the living room, his jaw clenched, and grabbed his phone. "I’m calling my lawyer," he announced, pacing as he waited for the line to connect. After explaining the situation, he moved on to call his father, detailing everything with a level of fury Zuri had never heard from him before.

Zuri stood nearby, her own anger simmering. She couldn’t believe her father would stoop so low, jeopardizing not just her happiness but Aurélien’s safety too. When Aurélien finally ended his calls, he set his phone down and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"I love you so much, Zuri," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Tears pricked at Zuri’s eyes, but she held them back, drawing strength from his embrace. "I love you too, Aurélien," she whispered. "Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. Anything to get my father off our backs."

Aurélien sighed, his arms tightening around her. "We’ll figure it out together," he promised. "I’m not letting him control us. Not anymore."

TO BE CONTINUED....

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Domestic Violence, Language, mention of death

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309. In this story the reader is a widow who has a 4 year old daughter. She’s dating a very abusive man, so she enrolls her daughter in preschool to keep her as shielded as possible. At the preschool we find her daughter has made friends with a set of twins. At pick up one day the reader realizes the parent of her daughter’s best friend is none other than Jensen Ackles. A friendship forms, and decisions are made after a particularly nasty fight with her boyfriend. 

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life.

*This chapter sets up the story-it’s a bit long due to this.*

Minors DNI 18+

You sat on the side of your bed rubbing your arm, trying to get the sting of the pain to go away. Another night, another argument with Robert, your boyfriend. You’d only been dating about 9 months, and at first everything seemed perfect. You felt the sting of the tears fill your eyes 

Knowing how much he hated when you cried, you fought to keep them at bay. Crying after he hit you only made things worse. You were thankful, however, your four year old daughter, Jazmyne was already in bed. 

You did your best to keep her shielded from the violence that plagued your life now. Your late husband, Josh, was a kind, gentle man. He wouldn’t lift a hand to you and was an amazing father to Jazmyne. Josh was so gentle that if a spider got into the house he’d scoop it up and carry it outside. He died unexpectedly after a workplace accident. Your heart was irrevocably broken when the two of you lost him. 

Now Robert was in your lives. You met him at a house party and he swept you off your feet. The first time he hit you, the two of you were arguing and things got heated quickly. Then he slapped you across your face, drawing blood from your mouth. You made him leave and told him it was over. 

For almost a month you kept him at bay. Then loneliness, apologies and manipulation took over. You took him back. Things were fine, and then a switch flipped again. 

The latest fight was over dinner. You’d come home late from work and he was mad because dinner was late. After picking Jazmyne up at your friend’s house you decided to stop and grab a pizza. When you got home, he was there and became angry when he saw the pizza box.

“What the fuck is that?” He growled as he motioned to the box. “It’s dinner, and I’ve asked you not to use that language in front of my daughter.” He stepped closer to you and grabbed your chin hard, “I’ll talk however the fuck I want you stupid bitch!” You jerked your face away and set the box down. 

Looking at Jazmyne you spoke softly, “Go play while mommy gets your dinner ready, okay?” Your beautiful little girl nodded and bounded down the hall to her room. 

You grabbed a plate for your toddler and started to cut up her slice of pizza. “You’re a lazy fucking whore, you know that. What kind of mother doesn’t cook for her family?” You ignored him and kept getting Jazmyne’s food ready. 

He grabbed your arm hard, pulling you around to face him and causing you to drop her plate. “Don’t you fucking ignore me. I asked you a question.” “Robert, I’m not in the mood to fight with you. I think you should leave. I’m exhausted and I need to get Jazzy ready for dinner and bed. I don’t have time to deal with this.”

You tried to pull your arm out of his grip, but it was too tight. “Let me the fuck go!” You yelled. 

Robert got in your face, his eyes dark with anger, “I’ll let you go when I feel like it. You belong to ME!” He let go of you, grabbed some food and went to sit in the living room. You walked towards Jazmyne’s room and found her crying.

You ran in and got on the floor, “Oh baby, what’s wrong?” “He hurt mommy.” She softly said. You scooped her up and held her tight, knowing you needed to make a change before it was too late. “I’m okay baby girl, I promise. Let’s go eat our pizza and we can play with your new bath paint tonight.” 

She smiled wide and nodded. You took her into the kitchen, put her at the table and got her a piece of pizza. You cut her slice and grabbed you one too. You noticed she kept looking towards Robert and you could see the fear in her eyes. You knew exactly what you needed to do. 

After dinner, you got Jazmyne in the tub and she played with her new bath paint. She talked about her new friends at preschool and how much fun they were. You had recently put her in preschool to help her socialize and to shield her from the crap between you and Robert. 

“So, Jazzy, what are their names?” You asked her as she excitedly talked about her new friends. “Arrow and Zeppy, they are twins, well his name is Zeppelin, but everyone calls him Zeppy.” She said with a smile on her face. You almost choked on air. There was no way these children are the children of the man you’d pined after, Jensen Ackles. You’d been a fan of his for years and watched everything he was in, at least twice. You were heartbroken when you heard his wife died during childbirth. She was giving birth to the twins, and there were complications. 

Jensen disappeared from public life after the death of his wife. He still acted on Supernatural, but his appearances in public and at conventions stopped. It wasn’t until recently he had started to make sporadic appearances and going back to conventions. 

After her bath you got her ready and into bed. Walking into the living room you saw Robert sitting on the couch. “We need to talk.” You said as you walked in. He looked up from his phone and his jaw clenched. 

“I’m going to record this conversation for my protection and yours. I don’t want any confusion as to what is being said tonight.” You told him as you hit record on your phone and he scoffed.

“I deserve better than to be with someone who puts their hands on me. My priority is my daughter, and she always will be. I don’t want her to grow up thinking it’s okay to be hit or grabbed by someone who says they love her. I want you to leave, and not come back. I’m not doing this anymore. We aren’t good for each other, so this, (you motioned between the two of you), is over.” 

Robert sat silently. The eerie silence sent a chill through your body. He sat up and started to speak low, “If that’s what you think, then I guess there isn’t anything I can do about it.” “That’s what I’m saying. I need your key.” He pulled out his keys and took the house key off his ring. Then he stood up, grabbed his stuff and left. 

You let out the breath you were holding and quickly went and locked up the house. You called your best friend and told her what happened. She was glad you finally kicked him out. “Do you need me to come over tonight?” She asked. “No, he left his key, so I’m sure it’s going to be okay.” You reassured her. “Okay, well I’m proud of you, if you need me, let me know.” “I will, I love you girl.” “Love you too, bye.” 

Hanging up you grabbed your pajamas and went to take a shower. Climbing in you felt the pain from Robert’s abuse. You cried. Your tears mixing with the water that cascaded from the showerhead. 

After your shower you climbed into bed and scrolled on your phone. You found yourself on Jensen’s Instagram page, smiling at the pictures he’d posted of himself and his children. A new post popped up and it made your heart flutter. It was a picture of his twins and he captioned it with “These two are rocking their first year of preschool. Zeppy has a new little friend he talks about all the time. He said she’s a princess because her name is Jasmine.” Your eyes went wide, was he talking about your Jazzy? You smiled and put your phone down, falling asleep.

The next morning you got Jazzy up and ready for school. On the drive there she was really quiet. “Jazzy, baby, what’s wrong?” You looked in the mirror and met your daughter’s big green eyes. They were full of sadness and fear, “I’m scared mommy.” A frown formed on your face, “What are you scared of baby?” “Robert. He hurt you.” “Oh baby, I’m okay. I made him leave. He won’t be back. It’s just you and me now.” A small smile formed on her face.

Getting her out of her seat at the school the two of you walked hand in hand towards the entrance. Your daughter squealed in excitement and dropped your hand, taking off towards two children. “Arrow, Zeppy!” She squealed. The two children turned around and smiled, running towards her. 

You continued walking and made it to the very excited children. Hugs were exchanged and giggles filled the air. Then there he was, Jensen Ackles. He chuckled as he walked up to you and the three children, “Oh this must be the little princess.” You smiled as your eyes met his. He extended his hand, “Hello, I’m Jensen, and these two are mine, Arrow and Zeppelin.” You extended your hand to shake his hand, not realizing there was a bruise on your arm or on the side of your face. “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, I’m Y/N and this little one is Jazmyn. I’ve heard so much about your children from her. They are really sweet to her.” 

You noticed his eyes kept scanning you and that’s when you noticed the bruise. You pulled your arm back and felt the embarrassment fill your cheeks. Zeppelin spoke up, breaking the silence between you and Jensen, “Daddy, can we have a playdate after school? Pleeease.” The three children were looking up at Jensen and you. “Well, how about we plan something for the weekend, that way you three can have longer to play, I mean if it’s okay with you.” He looked at you. “Oh absolutely. Besides, I have to work late today and Jazzy will be at her Auntie Nichole’s house.” 

Jensen grabbed the twins’ hands and started to walk towards the door, “We probably should get them inside.” He gestured. “Yeah, don’t want them to be late.” 

After saying your goodbyes, you and Jensen walked towards the parking lot together. “Hey, Y/N. Let me give you my number so we can work out the details of the playdate, and if um, you need anything, please call me.” You offered him a soft smile, “That would be great, Jensen, thank you. I know Jazzy will love it.”

The two of you said your goodbyes, and as you started to walk away Jensen stopped and called your name. “Hey, Y/N.” He stepped closer to you, “He’s an asshole and you don’t deserve that. I promise we aren’t all like that. If you need anything, please call me.” “Thank you, Jensen. For everything, and just so you know I made him leave and broke up with him.” Jensen smiled and lightly touched your arm, “good”. 

Hours later your shift was done. Nichole had picked Jazzy up from school and she was going to bring her home later. You pulled into your driveway and walked in your house. Putting your stuff down you decided you’d take a quick shower before Jazmyne got home. 

Getting out of the shower and getting dressed you walked into the living room and turned on the television. Just as you sat down the doorbell rang. You thought it was Nichole with Jazmyne, but you were wrong. Standing in front of you with eyes full of rage was Robert. 

“Robert, what the hell are you doing here?” Before you could get an answer he came into the house and punched you across the face. You fell to the ground and he started kicking you and punching you. 

You put your hands up to defend yourself and screamed and cried for help and for him to stop. After what felt like hours, he finally left. You laid on the floor, bleeding and in so much pain. You found the strength to grab your phone and pushed the call button. 

“Hello?” The voice on the other end said. You were in and out of consciousness. You started to speak weakly, “Help me…” “Y/N!? Is that you? It was Jensen. You accidentally called Jensen. “Y/N! Answer me, what’s wrong?”

All you could get out was “Jazzy.” Before you passed out. Jensen hung up, called the headmaster at the preschool and told them what happened. They told Jensen they would call 911, he asked for your address but they wouldn’t give it to him. 

Panic filled his body. He called Jared and had him and Gen watch the kids. He was heading to the closest hospital to wait to see if you were brought there. 

The ambulance arrived and Jensen saw you. He tried to get the nurse to tell him what was going on with you, but she wouldn’t give him any information. He paced the waiting room floor and tried everything he could think of to get someone to give him information. 

About 30 minutes later he saw Jazmyne come in with a woman who was close to your age. Jazmyne immediately saw Jensen and ran to him. Nichole tried to grab her, but she was too quick. 

Jensen scooped her up and she threw her arms around his neck, “Hey Jazzy, are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?” Nichole stepped closer, “Oh hi, um how do you know Y/N and Jazzy?” “Hi, I’m Jensen. Jazzy goes to daycare with my twins, and that’s how I know Y/N. She and I just met today, but I’ve known Jazzy.” 

Nichole stretched her hand out, “Hi, I’m Nichole, Y/N’s best friend. Do you know what happened?”

“Not really. She called me and all she said was “Help me, then she said Jazzy’s name. I didn’t know her address so I called the headmaster and told her what happened. I can only assume this was her ex’s doing. She told me she kicked him out.” “She did, but I think he came back over tonight.”

Just then the doctor came out. “I’m here for the family of Ms Y/L/N” Jensen and Nichole stepped forward. “Hi, we’re her family. How is she?” “I’m Dr Fitzpatrick and I’ve been treating her. She has multiple lacerations, some broken ribs, a broken nose and orbital bone, and lots of bruising. She was beat up so badly we have to put her in a medically induced coma to help her body heal. She will be in it for a few days.” 

Jensen and Nichole gasped, “When can we see her?” Nichole asked softly. “You can see her one at a time, but I don’t recommend you take her in there.” The doctor nodded. They both nodded, “Nichole, you go and I’ll stay with Jazzy.” 

Nichole nodded, thanked Jensen and walked to your room. About 30 minutes later Nichole was walking back into the waiting room with red, puffy eyes.

Jensen walked up to her and gave her a hug. She sobbed into his chest. “Jensen, she looks so bad. How could anyone ever do something like that to her. She’s such an amazing person.” Jensen just held her tight. “Do you mind if I go see her?” He asked softly. She shook her head. 

As Jensen walked down the hallway his heart rate sped up. When he saw you laying in your bed, bloodied, bruised and broken his heart ached and anger filled his body. Robert had to pay. He sat beside your side and held your hand, “Hey Y/N, Jazzy is safe. We need you to get better. I can’t plan that playdate by myself.” He chuckled as he held you tight.

Before he left the room, he leaned over and kissed your forehead. He wasn’t sure what made him do it, but he felt the need to do it, “You’re safe Y/N, and so is Jazzy. I promise you both will be safe.”

Jensen walked back towards Nichole and Jazzy. He gave Nichole his number and told her if she needed anything, or any help with Jazzy to give him a call or send him a text. She nodded and said thank you. 

Jazzy clung tightly to his neck, and Nichole had to pry him off. Jensen stepped closer, “hey, Jazzy, maybe Auntie Nichole can bring you over tomorrow afternoon so you can play with the Arrow and Zeppy, would you like that? She nodded wildly, “Okay, see you tomorrow then.” 

Then Jensen was gone. A few hours later, when she was sure you were out of the woods, she and Jazzy left for the night. 

She was worried about you, but Jensen, oh Jensen was worried about you, Jazzy, and wanted to hurt Robert for hurting you. He couldn’t shake the feeling, but drove home. 

You were left laying in the bed, listening to the sounds of conversations and unable to react or speak to them. You heard Jensen, felt Jensen, and above all you felt his emotion behind his voice. That was something you were thankful to have heard and felt, at least that and Jazzy gave you something worth fighting for. 

Tags are open, if you want to be added or removed, let me know.  

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[thalassianwaves]

THERE'S STILL TIME TO STOP TRUMP

Not enough people are talking about this and there's still time.

Trump did actually cheat and someone compiled all the evidence on twitter: https://x.com/Espaking2/status/1854287198331515005

Edit:

If you don't have twitter, this will show most of the thread but may not have the entire thing: https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1854287198331515005.html

People are reposting and saving it because from what I saw in the comments, Elon has been deleting any evidence against trump tampering the election.

- Trump said a few weeks back that he didn't need anymore votes, that he had more than enough.

- Trump also said he 'had a trick up his sleeve' to win.

- A bomb scare was called into areas where voting was taking place, so people would flee the areas and not vote.

- Ballot boxes were then set on fire by trump supporters.

- 20 MILLION Ballots went missing. People only just got emails today about their ballots going missing, their signatures suddenly not being accepted, or some outright being destroyed if they didn't vote for trump.

- Trump has a long history of lying, cheating, blackmailing and bribing people to get what he wants.

- Kamala was in the lead to win but literally after these ballots were lost and after the russian bomb scare, somehow trump ended up with the highest republican vote in over 20+ years.

- Russian software used for rigging elections was found being used.

All of the evidence is in that tweet but I've also saved a copy of everything in case Elon attacks that post too. There's a link to contact the white house and to (politely) demand a refund due to the evidence of trump cheating:

Submit directly to the president.

Click the first option, select your reasoning as election security.

State these pieces of information as a paragraph:

- 32 fake bomb threats were called into democratic leaning poll places, rendering polls to be closed for at least an hour

- a lot of people reporting their ballots weren't counted for various reasons that are not very sound seeming (signature invalidation, information that vote counter could not have had)

- This all occured in swing states (PA, Nevada, Georigia, ETC.)

- This is all too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hinting of foul play

- Directly stat that an investigation for tampering/fraud is required, not just a recount.

Again, there is not much time, please, please, please make this spread like wildfire, there's still time to do this!

(trigger warning, SA

(trump is not a good person. Aside from a history of the above and dodgy legal activities, he also has a long history of SA towards women and children. Trump is a convicted p*dophile and project 2025 will strip away the rights from anyone who isn't a cis white man.

Please, please, please spread this information, read through the twitter evidence thread and share it. There's still time to demand an investigation but we have to act NOW

[alastor-simp]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Posting my WIP for another Alastor x Reader that I am writing. Warning this will contain swear words, and some triggers.

Divider credit to @adornedwithlight

✪In The Forest✪

"Pant....pant....pant." Holding a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm down after running away from your so-called home. It was never home to you, more like hell, as you had to suffer through everything your parents inflicted on you. Your mom would never feed you, locking you in your room, and whenever you had the chance to leave your prison, your drunk dad would beat you mercilessly, shouting swears at you. It was just plain luck that the time you ran away from your father, the door was left unlocked, letting you escape out into the woods, "GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BRAT!!!" came from inside the house, as you sped away as fast as you could, limping slightly from the beatings. You took a rest behind a large tree, trying to catch your breath and also soothe your aching body as the more you tried to run, the worse the pain got. There was no sound of footsteps anywhere, letting you know that you were safe for now, but you knew that your father was searching for you, ready to beat you again for disobeying him. Wincing, you slowly got up from the ground, moving slowly to avoid stepping on any branches that alert anyone nearby.

A few minutes went by and you slowly came across a small river. Oh finally, some fresh water. Getting on your knees, your hands scooped some water, bringing it to your mouth to drink. The river was able to reflect back at you, allowing you to see yourself. One of your eyes was swollen from being punched, cheeks sunken from being starved and your lip was bleeding. It was a surprised that your face still remained the same, even after all the beatings that were inflicted on you. "Rustle..Rustle." A soft sound was heard from a large bush, causing you to jump up in fright. You were waiting for the figure of your father, to come out, but nothing appeared. The sounds continued, earning your curiosity.

Moving closer to the sound, you peeked behind a bush and let out a gasp. A large deer appeared in front of you, its fur a dark crimson red and its antlers black as coal. It was on the ground, hoof caught in a bear trap. It noticed your presence, dark red eyes staring back at you, gazing into your soul. Moving slowly as not to startle it, you sat next to the deer, letting it know you were not a threat. Drawing your eyes to the trapped leg, you placed your hands on the jaws, "I'm gonna try to open this okay?" Using the strength you could muster, the jaws of the trap slowly inched open bit by bit, allowing the deer to pull it out. Once you saw that the deer had freed its foot, you push the trap slowly together, so it wouldn't snap on your hand, setting it on the ground once you had closed it. The deer's foot was bleeding heavily, having been punctured by the sharpness of the trap.

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

@morganodaidiot , @boldlyenchantingfox22 , @verona2314 ,

@angelmoonlight , @thatbadassauthor , @wantondoe ,

@doorknobhater

[sunsets-and-crows]

I Wanna Be Yours - Chapter 3

Pairing: Sylus X Reader

Words: 5.1K

- - -

Tasked with infiltrating the life of Sylus, the most wanted man in the N109 zone, you're torn between what is right and feels right, blurring the line between duty and desire. As danger escalates, you must decide whether to carry out your mission or succumb to the magnetic pull of the man you're meant to destroy. In this game of power and obsession, betrayal could cost you everything.

Content warnings ⚠️

Dark Themes, Yandere! Reader and Yandere! Sylus! Power play. Violence and Gore. Smut: mutual masturbation. Stalking/surveillance. Reader slowly losing her mind. Sylus being hot and a menace. TRIGGER WARNING: stalking and dubious consent (Reader doesn't know Sylus is also watching her and gets a little handsy with hersef)

If you feel there’s any other warnings I need to add then please reach out and let me know!

You lay frozen in bed, breaths shallow, the silence pressing in, turning your own apartment into something like a cage. Outside, the city’s hum felt distant, indifferent. You stared at the ceiling, your phone still clutched in your hand from when you’d called in sick that morning, informing Captain Jenna that you would stay in Linkon until you felt better. Your usual weekly report would have to wait too.

The call had been brief, your voice cold and controlled, but brittle at the edges. “I’m not well,” you’d said. 

You hadn’t offered an explanation beyond that, and Captain Jenna, perceptive as she was, hadn’t pressed. “Take a few days, then. No one’s else can cover for you so the mission has to be paused until you’re better. Just… rest.”

Rest. As if that was possible.

Every corner of your apartment felt claustrophobic, the sharp lines and muted lights closing in, mocking you. The stillness, almost unbearable. The shadows cast by the dim lighting stretched too far, crowding the corners of the room, while outside the city pulsed with its usual dispassionate hum.

You’d killed a man - for him. Pulled the trigger, watched his body collapse in the darkness, the knife still inches from Sylus. The memory looped in your mind, every instant replaying in agonising detail. Your hand had moved on instinct, your shot trained with precision you couldn’t remember planning. The whole scene burned behind your eyes, refusing to fade.

And still, even as you felt the weight of guilt twist in your stomach, you couldn’t stop the darker thoughts clawing up through the silence. The way he looked that night, standing so close to danger, his strength an unbreakable presence. No one else could pull you into madness like he did.

You couldn’t deny it any longer: it wasn’t instinct. It was him.

That damned pinboard drew your eyes like a magnet. His face stared back at you from every angle: the piercing red eyes, the sharp, almost predatory jawline, the messy silver hair that looked too perfect in its disarray. And that body - muscular and powerful. A god of chaos and control wrapped in one dangerous package.

As the hours passed, you began to try and justify it to yourself. But no amount of rationalising could erase the truth: you’d killed for him. Your mind circled back to the moment, instinct gone wild, your gun trained on someone whose life ended at your hands, all for Sylus. 

You told yourself. If you hadn’t acted, he would have killed him. And Sylus… well the Hunter’s Association wanted him alive, didn't they? You tried to believe it - tried to tell yourself that saving him would count as part of the mission, that it was the right thing to do. But even as you repeated the word, you knew there was more to it.

The thought twisted in your mind, seeping into something darker. You’d killed someone for him. It had been quick, instinctual - your gun aimed and fired before you could think. And the traitor had collapsed in a heap, his life snuffed out in an instant. You hadn’t even thought about it at the time.

But now, in the silence of your apartment, the weight of what you’d done crashed down on you like a suffocating wave. You’d murdered someone. You, the hunter. The enforcer of justice. How could you justify that? How could you look at yourself and think it was acceptable, even for a second?

Your heart began to race, your breath growing shallow as the image of the dead man replayed in your mind. His body crumpling, the blood pooling beneath him. It was like a scar that wouldn’t fade, burned into the back of your eyelids whenever you closed them. What kind of person did that make you?

But you couldn’t sit with that thought for too long. Taking a deep breath, you calmed your racing thoughts and justified yourself.

No. You’d saved him. You would have done it for anyone, wouldn’t you? If anyone had been in Sylus’ position - if they’d been about to be stabbed in the back - you would have acted the same way. You would have saved anyone.

Liar.

The word echoed in your mind, taunting you, but you pushed it down, suppressing it until it was nothing but a whisper. You had to believe it wasn’t just about him. It couldn’t be.

But the truth gnawed at the edges of your thoughts, and you knew, deep down, that you were lying to yourself. You’d done it because it was him. Because the idea of Sylus being hurt - of him being vulnerable - made your chest tighten in ways you couldn’t control.

You stared at his image on the pin board. Him walking in the N109 zone, him in business meetings, him in his office, him, him, Sylus. Each picture seemed to distort under your gaze, his eyes drawing you in, his presence - his power - taking up more space in your mind until nothing else mattered.

You dropped your head into your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to chase the thought away. He’s dangerous. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. But the more you tried to push it down, the more it bubbled to the surface, the more it consumed you.

You sighed, it was getting harder and harder to fight your feelings. You rubbed your hand over the crease in your brows, trying to soothe away the headache that had formed there. This time, it was clear that you were obsessed with him - every inch of him, it couldn’t be mistaken for young love and infatuation. Would it be so bad to just give into it?

The clock ticked steadily in the background, marking the slow passage of time, but you remained frozen, trapped in the tug-of-war between your obsession and your guilt. Just the thought of turning him in filled you with a visceral unease, a sick twist in your gut. How could you betray him? And yet, how could you justify not doing it?

You stabbed your fork into the cold dinner on your plate and forced yourself to look away from the pinboard, How could you betray him? How could you hand him over, not knowing what his fate would be? The idea filled you with dread, your stomach twisting at the thought. 

The truth settled like a weight in your chest. It wasn’t a decision you’d made in a moment - it had been building, creeping into your mind, just like your infatuation with him. You weren’t just following orders anymore. The mission had become something else, something darker and more twisted. 

You told yourself to let it go, that you would stop watching so closely. You wouldn’t interfere again. If Sylus got hurt - if he made a mistake - it would be on him.

But even as you made that vow, you felt the tug, dark and undeniable, pulling you under. The truth was as unyielding as it was terrifying: you’d fallen too deep, and there was no climbing out.

The second day of your sick leave dragged by in slow motion, every tick of the clock scraping against your already frayed nerves. Each passing minute felt heavier than the last, your apartment a quiet reminder of everything you couldn’t escape. Your usual clean standards were nowhere to be seen, the fork in your dinner from last night still resting on the plate you hadn’t bothered to clean, almost mocking you.

A soft buzz from your phone jolted you from your spiralling thoughts.

10:32: Tara: Hey! Miss you! How’s it going? Feel up to grabbing a coffee later? We can catch up! :)

Your thumb hovered over the reply button. A part of you baulked at the idea of stepping back into normalcy, as if facing Tara and pretending everything was fine would unravel the fragile grip you still had on yourself. But Tara was your friend, and she hadn’t pressed for any details when you called in sick. You owed her this.

10:47 Me: Sure, let’s meet at Café Preston in an hour?

10:48 Tara: Perfect! See you there! :D

You sighed, tossing your phone onto the couch before heading to get ready. 

The bell above the café door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the warmth of the place wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods filled the air, mixing with the subtle crackle of a fireplace in the corner. Wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, giving the place a rustic, homely feel, and soft jazz music played in the background, adding to the cosy atmosphere. 

Tara waved excitedly from a table near the large window that overlooked the river outside. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the autumn trees, casting golden patterns onto the wooden floor. For a moment, you almost forgot how heavy the weight in your chest felt. Almost.

As you moved closer, the slight happiness you felt began to dissipate. Sitting across from Tara was Xavier. The air seemed to thicken in your lungs. You swallowed the unease that rose in your throat, plastering a smile on your face as you made your way over to them. 

You hadn’t expected him to be here. You didn’t dislike Xavier - he’d been your partner before this assignment - but his presence always carried a weight, one you weren’t prepared to shoulder right now. Especially not with the things you couldn’t say.

"Y/N!" Tara greeted, her voice bright and full of cheer. She jumped up to give you a quick hug before pulling you into a seat next to her. Tara beamed, her enthusiasm infectious as she pushed a cup of coffee toward you. “I thought you were dying or something. But then again, I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for too long.” She winked, nudging you playfully. It was so typical of her—sweet, worry mixed with teasing, always trying to lift your spirits.

You laughed, though it felt a bit forced. "I guess I just needed some rest. I’m fine now." 

You avoided glancing at Xavier, focusing instead on the warm wooden table in front of you, the gentle flicker of a candle casting soft light across the surface. But he made his presence known anyway. “How have you been?” He asked. “Captain Jenna said you were sick, do you need to visit the doctor?”

You forced a smile, "I’m okay. I think I just needed a few days off. Some time to relax and recuperate."

Tara, always the bubbly one, didn’t waste any time. She immediately launched into talking about work, asking you if you’d managed to see anything interesting on your mission so far. She kept things light, but you knew her well enough to catch the undercurrent of concern in her voice. Xavier, on the other hand, sat quietly, giving you the occasional glance that made you shift in your seat.

Tara smirked. “You’ve been off the grid for a couple of weeks. There must be some big developments.” Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, but you knew better than to indulge it. You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee to buy yourself a moment.

“Nothing I can really talk about Tara, unfortunately all of those juicy details are confidential” you said, giving her a little bop on the nose with your finger and grinning at her.

Xavier, who had been quietly watching you with that ever-present air of concern, spoke up again. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You’re looking…tired.”

Tired. If only he knew. But you brushed off the comment, giving a dismissive wave. “Good to know I look as good as I feel,” You joked, but you could see how he winced, like he knew that his comment was out of line. You took pity on him, “Just a lot of paperwork. The usual boring stuff.” You lied.

Tara pouted playfully. "Confidential, schmofidential. I just want to know one thing-" She leaned in closer, her grin turning mischievous. "Is Sylus as good looking as they say? Because if he is, I might have to request to take your place!"

For a split second, the café around you seemed to blur, and all you could see was Tara. The irrational surge of anger that welled up inside of you caught you off guard, your hand twitching as though ready to strike her. You could see it in your mind- her cheek reddening from the force of the slap. But then you blinked, and the image vanished. Your hand remained still on the table, and Tara was there, smiling, oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you. You shook your head, trying to dispel the irrational thought.

You forced a casual shrug, your voice steady even as your mind buzzed. “He’s fine, Tara. I think people just like to exaggerate for drama. Nothing special.” The words came easily, but your chest tightened with the effort of pretending.

“Oh please.” Tara waved you off with a laugh. “You expect me to believe that? Come on, Y/N. I’ve heard the rumours. The man’s practically a god in that zone. Dangerous, sure, but also… Well, let’s just say I wouldn’t mind seeing what all the fuss is about.”

You bristled, letting out a laugh that sounded more strained than you intended. “I guess your informants are liars, Tara. He’s really not all that. Trust me, you’re not missing anything," you said, though your mind was already flooded with images of Sylus and his unfair good looks. She was actually missing a lot and you’d like to keep it that way.

But Tara wasn’t buying it. She gave you a knowing smirk, leaning back in her chair. “You say that, but I can tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Your jaw clenched, “Let’s talk about something else,” you said sharply, and Tara, sensing the change in your mood, raised her hands in mock surrender.

The conversation shifted after that, with Tara steering it towards lighter topics - missions, work, and just catching up. You were grateful for it. You nodded and smiled at the appropriate moments, but your thoughts were miles away.

The café’s atmosphere continued to hum softly around you - quiet chatter from other patrons, the occasional clink of coffee cups and plates, the gentle rustling of leaves outside. It felt far too peaceful for what was happening inside your head.

Xavier, sitting across from you, seemed to be biding his time. Every once in a while, you caught him glancing your way, his lips pressed into a tight line. It was more like staring honestly. Eventually, Tara excused herself to grab another round of coffee, leaving you alone with Xavier. The comfortable hum of the café only served to heighten the awkward silence that stretched between you.

"So, Y/N," he began, voice low. "Are you sure you’re okay? I haven’t seen you in a long time. I missed you"

You shot him a glance, keeping your expression neutral. "I’m fine, Xav really.” You reached across the table and patted his hand which caused a blush to break out across his face. You quickly retracted it. “Just tired, I promise." You sighed before saying “I missed you too,” It wasn’t a complete lie at least.

He paused, clearly debating something, before leaning forward slightly. He smiled sheepishly before saying, "I’ve been meaning to ask…  I was wondering if you’d… want to grab dinner sometime?” he asked, his voice filled with uncertainty. “Just us. I- I’ve liked you for a while and I would like to see if there’s a chance that we could move our relationship from friendship to something more ”

His rushed and inelegant confession hit like ice water, sending a cold jolt through your chest. You should have seen this coming - the quiet concern, the lingering glances - but your mind had been too preoccupied to notice. Your stomach twisted, and you couldn’t bear the thought of sitting across from him, pretending that your thoughts weren’t consumed by someone else. You couldn’t do it. You wouldn’t.

"I-" You hesitated, trying to find a kind way to turn him down. "I don’t think that’s a good idea, Xavier. I’m… I’ve got a lot on my plate right now." You forced a smile trying to show him that you didn’t mean to upset him. 

His smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment passing across his face. He nodded stiffly, his forced smile not reaching his eyes. 'Yeah, I figured. It’s fine.' The words were casual, but the silence that followed felt like a weight pressing down on both of you.

Just as the conversation threatened to fall into an even deeper awkwardness, Tara returned, oblivious to the tension between you and Xavier. She sat down with the coffees, flashing you both her usual bright smile. "Alright, let’s change the subject! No more mission talk. How about we discuss literally anything else?"

You smiled, but it felt like a mask - one Tara didn’t seem to notice, though Xavier might have. The warmth of the café felt alien compared to the storm inside you, a reminder of how far removed you were from this comfortable, ordinary world. How long could you keep pretending everything was normal?

The rustic charm of the café, the flickering candlelight, the soft jazz—everything felt jarringly out of sync with the churning inside of you. As if the world was moving on, oblivious, while you were sinking deeper into something you couldn’t explain or stop.

Sylus felt the absence of your usual shadow almost instantly. That persistent presence - always there, watching, hovering just at the edge of his awareness - had become almost... expected. For a hunter you sure were interesting. There was something about the way you moved, the way your gaze seemed to linger just a little too long, that had started to... interest him. 

He found the empty space you’d left behind strangely grating. He told himself it was only curiosity - a predator missing familiar prey. And yet, the thought of your absence itched at him, unsettling in ways he hadn’t expected. 

He found himself restless, a slow irritation building within him as he moved through his daily routine. Where were you?

“Boss, there’s been no sighting of the Miss Hunter for two days in the N109 zone,” Luke said, his voice breaking through the silence. The twins hung in the doorway of Sylus’ office, far too nervous to go inside. He’d been more volatile than usual with your sudden disappearance. “Shall we keep looking or…”

Sylus leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of him as he contemplated your absence. For a moment, he considered simply letting it go. You were just another hunter, after all. But something about this situation gnawed at him. The last time he’d seen you, you’d killed a man to protect him and then seemingly horrified by your own actions, spiralled. He knew you were alive, of course, Mephisto’s only job recently was keeping track of you and relaying the footage to his master. But why had you abruptly left the N109 zone? Why had you abandoned your mission, him? It was puzzling.

“Keep watch,” Sylus murmured, his gaze sliding to the surveillance feed on the screen before him. He watched the live footage of your apartment with rapt attention, trying to figure out the mystery that was you. 

It was on the first evening that his attention became firmly fixed on you, his business meetings all but forgotten. There you were, sitting at your small dining table, a single plate of food untouched in front of you, your gaze fixed on something across the room. Sylus leaned closer to the screen, eyes narrowing as he followed the direction of your stare.

The pinboard. His face, his movements, his operations - everything you had gathered about him was pinned up in meticulous detail. But it wasn’t the board itself that drew Sylus’ attention. No, it was the way you stared at it, like you were seeing something more, something deeper than just the details of a mission. The way your fingers traced over one of his photographs, lingering on the lines of his jaw, the shape of his lips.

He watched as you lifted your glass, sipping at the wine while your eyes never left his picture.

“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes glinting with amusement. 

He’d watched as you paced back and forth, clearly torn between your loyalty to the Hunter’s Association and something else that gnawed at your mind. His lips quirked into a small smirk when you grew frustrated and stabbed your fork into your dinner, then abandoned it.

Watching you slump against the wall, arms wrapped around yourself as if you were holding back something darker, sent a strange thrill through him. There was a breaking point coming, and he found himself leaning closer, caught by the intensity of it.

He’d seen the same look in others before, but there was something about watching you go through it that tugged at him, a pull he couldn’t explain. He knew you were battling more than just the mission - there was something else, something darker simmering under the surface. It made his pulse race in anticipation.

You were strong though, that much was clear and Sylus could almost hear the cogs turning in your brain. You’d seemed to have made a decision of a kind, nodding firmly and then retiring to your bedroom.

By the next day, his irritation had settled into anticipation, curiosity pulling him back to the feed as if by instinct.

Things had been different. He watched you through Mephisto’s eyes as you met with your friends - Tara and that man, Xavier. Sylus was fine at first but the more he watched the more he grew to dislike the blonde boy sitting across from you. How he stared intently at you and acted like he knew you so well. Sylus mused to himself ‘if only Xavier knew what was really on your mind’. He grew to hate the way Xavier looked at you, that sense of familiarity. 

Eventually, it became all to clear that Xavier had feelings for you, the poor fool had an unsettlingly easy to read face. That, coupled with the way he got too close to you, pissed Sylus off. An unexpected possessiveness twisted low in his gut as he watched Xavier lean closer, speaking to you with a familiarity Sylus found grating. And when he saw that telltale smirk on Xavier’s face - the one that told him exactly what was coming - his fingers had drummed a rhythm of irritation against the desk.

Xavier had asked you on a solo dinner. Just the two of you? A date? 

The audacity. Sylus' teeth had clenched, anger pulsing just beneath the surface. How dare he? Xavier, with his hopeful smile and thinly-veiled intentions, dared to make a move on you. For a split second, Sylus’ mind wandered to thoughts of teaching Xavier a lesson - a harsh reminder of who was in control. Perhaps he could meet him in a dark alley, where no one would hear the crack of bones or the gasps of pain. Sylus pulled himself back, clearing his thoughts. No, that was irrational.

But still... when you turned Xavier down, a wave of satisfaction had rolled over him. Sylus’ lips had curled into a smirk as he watched the way you dismissed the offer with an air of indifference, your voice calm and uninterested. You had just rejected Xavier - but he wished that you had crushed any hope he had in a single breath instead. Still, he was almost proud of you in that moment. And yet, what pleased Sylus most was the flicker of something else in your eyes. It wasn’t just disinterest - it was disgust. You hadn’t wanted Xavier at all.

By the time the third evening had rolled around, Sylus had nearly decided to call off Mephisto's surveillance. You were no longer a threat, he reasoned. The intensity from your first day off had dulled, and you had seemingly returned to your usual routine. You’d seemed to have no intention of returning to the N109 zone. He was about to turn away from the feed, his fingers hovering over the button to recall Mephisto, when something unexpected caught his eye.

He leaned forward, narrowing his gaze as the screen displayed a familiar sight - you, sitting in your apartment, your eyes locked on the TV. The candle light bathed your body in a warm glow and Sylus would admit that these were his favourite moments of the surveillance on you. The way you relaxed in your own home, wearing your everyday clothing or even better, like tonight, your pyjamas. Shorts that were so short he could see the way your ass hung out of them. A little silky strappy top that did nothing to hide your breasts, or the way your nipples pebbled in the night's chilly air. He felt his trousers grow tighter at the image of you.

But tonight, he noticed something different, something that sent a thrill through him - you were watching him. Not his movements, not his tactics, just him. The screen displayed an image he knew well - himself, seated at his desk from weeks ago, pouring over a pile of documents. The footage was mundane, unremarkable. Yet, you seemed transfixed, the look in your eyes more private than anything he’d seen before.

He leaned in closer to the screen as he watched, riveted, as your expression softened, your lips parting ever so slightly, gaze lingering on his image as though he were something more than prey to you. The realisation sent a surge of satisfaction through him. 

Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, your hand began to move, dragging down your body and toying with the waistband of your underwear.

His breath caught as he saw your hand drift to the hem of your shorts, fingers tracing idly, your gaze never leaving the screen. Interesting, he thought, his eyes darkening as he leaned forward. What began as an absent touch turned intentional, your hand slipping beneath the waistband, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping your parted lips. Sylus felt a spark of heat surge through him, more intense than he’d expected.

You shifted on the couch, shorts sliding lower, exposing the soft curve of your hips in the candlelight. He watched, captivated, as you gave yourself over to the moment, oblivious to the world beyond that screen. Your fingers teased along the edges of your underwear, movements delicate, almost tentative - until your resolve broke.

Heat flushed through him and his cock grew hard at the sight of you. Sylus' breath hitched, eyes darkening as he watched you succumb to your desires, fingers moving in sync with the rhythm of the footage on screen. The way you were completely lost in the moment, oblivious to everything else, sent a thrill racing down his spine. You wanted him and that thought drove him crazy. 

He watched as your movements became more intense and then with a practised ease you pulled down your shorts. He could see the way your pussy glistened in the candle light. You were wet. Wet for him.

He could see your gasp as you played with your clit. It was mesmerising to see how you toyed with your own body, clearly well experienced with bringing yourself pleasure. 

Sylus used his Evol to close and lock his office door ensuring his and your privacy in this intimate moment. He didn’t want anyone else to see the way you bared yourself for him. 

His jaw tightened as he took in the scene, the heat in his own body mirroring yours. Without breaking his stare, he reached down, freeing himself from the confines of his trousers, his breath steady but deep as he matched his movements to yours, never taking his eyes from the screen.

Your head fell back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, lips parted in an unguarded gasp. The candlelight traced over your exposed skin. His grip tightened, the intensity in his gaze growing sharper as he watched you, imagining your hands replaced by his own, feeling your skin, your heat, your desperation. 

Legs spread wide on the couch, your wet pussy was completely at the mercy of his hungry gaze. Your fingers rubbing your clit torturously slowly. He groaned as he thumbed at the top of his cock, smearing his precum over the head and down the shaft to ease his strokes. 

His eyes had drifted closed for barely a moment before snapping open, irritated with himself. He didn’t want to miss a single detail, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that left him as exposed as you were. The sight that greeted him made him nearly lose control. Your fingers were stuffed inside your pussy, thrusting in and out as your thumb stayed firmly against your clit. You looked tight and he felt his dick twitch in his hand and groaned loudly. Your strappy top had fallen down, becoming almost useless and your breasts completely visible. God, you looked perfect for him, like a sin. 

He picked up the pace on his cock in time with the thrusting of your fingers, imagining it was him stuffing your pretty pussy with his cock instead. Fuck! Your face, your figure, your tits and of course that pussy. He desperately wanted a taste, you’d be sweet he just knew it. 

A low, primal sound escaped his throat as you pushed your fingers deeper, your thumb grazing along your skin with a rhythm that matched his own pace. He could nearly feel your movements, the way your body would tense beneath his touch. He matched each of your breaths, the controlled rhythm dissolving as his grip tightened, his eyes tracing the way your body arched. God he wished he could hear you. 

His cock was painfully ready for release but he held back, he wanted to cum at the same time as you. No, he needed to. To see the way your face would flush and your expression would shift. 

You were close, he could tell that much, your movements focused entirely on your pleasure, no longer teasing at all. You bit your lip hard and Sylus wished that he could take its place. That you would bite his lip so viciously. Just a few more thrusts of your fingers inside you and your thumb moving over your clit and that was it. You were cumming. Your hips moving uncontrollably and your pussy clenching around your fingers. You threw your head back and he wished he could hear the way you moans pounded. Maybe he would have to plant a bug in your apartment for next time.

 He fought to keep his composure as you came undone, your body arching, but the sight of you, looking so beautiful as you came, was his undoing. He moved faster, his hand tracing the length of himself as he watched you unravel, imagining the heat of your skin, the sound of your voice, and the feel of you clenching around him.

As you finally stilled, your breaths slowing, he let himself fall over the edge, his own release spilling over his hand. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat, a deep satisfaction flooding through him as he watched you sink back against the cushions, unaware of how intimately he’d shared this moment with you.

He looked at you on the screen and nearly lost his control at the sight of you sucking on your fingers. It was so unexpected and dangerously erotic. He watched as you stood up on shaky legs and headed into the bathroom before cleaning himself up and stuffing him back into his trousers. The shirt would have to be dry cleaned. 

A deep, satisfied chuckle rumbled in his chest as he leaned back, a dark resolve settling over him. This, he realised, was only the beginning. He would give you exactly what you wanted - and more. Even if you didn't know what that meant for yourself.

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Chapter 3 is here! Please let me know what you think  ❥ Like, reblog, comment, message me, ask me something, literally anything - I live for your feedback on this  ❥