#I always feel like I’m gonna get accused of reading too much into it or like

[hylianane]

Sorry for going nuts in your askbox last night, however I just reread those tags and I'm back because I can't stop thinking about that tree

And about how slowly draining Zoro of his will would make him,, almost unrecognizable as Zoro.

What's the point if I'm never going to be strong enough to protect everyone? I might as well nap forever...

It's living in my head rent free it's such a good concept it's so fucked up I'm obsessed

Nooooo dont say sorry I was so excited to get your messages. I’ve had a busy busy morning so I havent had time to answer them but know I am very glad that you liked my ideas. You’re very sweet with all this encouragement.

AND LIKE YEAH I think on his daily basis, Zoro feels very fulfilled by his dream, hardships and all. But that doesn’t mean he just shrugs off every harrowing defeat. You can see very clearly that the stick with him, specially Kuma who represents a legit trauma to him (in the most in-your-face way, he had a flashback and was frozen in terror the next time he saw him). These moments don’t outnumber nor outweigh the good things about his life and his adventure, but I think if you pushed him just right, and played your cards right, you could convince him that they do. Make that iron will waver juuust long enough to get some good character exploration and angst out of it

[theealbatross]

Sebastian x Reader: i love you, it's ruining my life (One Shot)

Plot | Sebastian has the worst insomnia known to man and you are not dating him. Tags | none, fluff, slytherin!reader, bad english accent attempt by me, repressed feelings, unhealthy attachment, codependency, teenagers trying to process trauma together, mentions of nightmares, they are both 17 years old [A/N : FUCK JK ROWLING!!!!!!! Also I just needed to write something and somehow a depressed Slytherin boy was just the one to cure my insane writer's block. Enjoy!]

I am not dating Sebastian Sallow, is what you kept saying yet no one seems to ever believe you. Even Natty, bless her kind soul, gave you a look so incredulous as the words went out of your mouth that you couldn’t help but be confused yourself -- were you dating Sebastian?

“I’m not trying to be nosy, my friend. I’m just concerned.”

“About what?” This has been the third person this month with that same irritating expression on their face. Pity.

“I thought … you were always together that I just assumed there was … something.”

You blinked, trying not to let your face slip, afraid that your ever observant friend would read too much into each emotion.

“Well, there’s nothing. So you and the others can –”

“There are others?!”

You widened her eyes, telling Natty to drop it and she wisely did. “The rest of you can stop reporting his rendezvous to me. Understood?”

“There you are!”

Merlin, will the cruel gods of fate ever give you a break?

The deep voice from the door cut through half of the conversations in your table as Sebastian jogged towards you. “Morning, pet.”

He casually grabbed your head gently, pressing a kiss on top of it, before settling down by straddling the chair so he was facing you. “Hey Natty, got lost?”

It wasn’t unheard of for students to not stick to the assigned tables on their houses but it was still odd, especially for someone like Natty who much preferred the company of like-minded people. Always said that the quiet and whispers in the Slytherin table made her uneasy.

Natty looked from you, to him, to the arms that was hidden under the table but was no doubt placed on your waist, subtly but insistently pulling you closer. You silently pleaded for her to ignore it which she thankfully did with a sigh.

“Not at all, Sebastian. Just trying to keep our friend company before you undoubtedly steal her away for the day.”

He didn’t even pretend to be offended by the accusation, only chuckling good-heartedly. “You can be welcome to tag along just for today.”

“Wouldn’t want to intrude. And with the trouble the two of you get into I’d be grounded by my mother for the rest of my life.”

The three of them laughed at that. The conversation thankfully flowing easier and away from the initial topic. Once Ominis arrived and Poppy was called over it was like fifth-year again. The initial circle you had formed has always been a source of comfort, no longer having to have your guard up all the time especially as easy conversation flowed between each other.

“I got some new books for you, just got delivered an hour ago. We should read it tonight.”

You fed him a piece of bread in your hands, knowing that his growing appetite has not been satiated by the plate he made for himself but he would be too lazy to make a new one and would just rather take bits and pieces from your own. “Just for me, huh?”

He grabbed a tuft of grapes before feeding you one as well before he demolished the entire thing. You couldn’t help but giggle when he spat out a small branch that managed to sneak into his mouth.

“It’s that new muggle series you love, paid off one of Ominis’ servant to line for it so you wouldn’t have to sneak out of Hogwarts like I know you had planned to tonight.”

You could feel your face heating up at the fact that he knew you too damn well. “You know I don’t like you spending money on me, Sebastian.”

“Well, you’re gonna be reading it to me so technically I’m spending money for me.”

You gave him a look but he quickly evaded it by feeding you another pair of grapes.

Sebastian had been haunted by nightmares after last year’s events. Ones so bad that the nurse feared he would be a bit too dependent on sleeping potions at such a young age. Thankfully, the two of you had found a solution together, after a late night studying in the Undercroft reading your notes aloud hoping it would stick into your head a bit better – you had turned to find your companion snoring away beside you.

At first, the two of you thought it was the history lesson that put him right to slumber so you borrowed tons of history books in the library for him to read before he slept but an enchanted note later and you were dragging your sleepy self and a blanket out of your chambers as you read about the History of Magic in his bed.

It was that night that you had been eternally grateful that he had no other roommate but Ominis. Especially when you found out that Sebastian was apparently a horrible koala when asleep.

“That’s just –”

“What are you two whispering about?”

You actually jumped, pushing Sebastian away as if the soft voice behind them reminded you of how they had actually drifted closer than what was appropriate.

“Arieta,” Sebastian greeted her with a raised brow, seemingly confused why the Ravenclaw was this far off the room not even all that affected that his new girlfriend just caught him being a bit too comfortable with another girl.

“Sebby!” she shrieked prettily, quickly recovering and pulling on his arm. “We have History of Magic together, remember? You know I can’t survive that class without your shoulder to sleep on.”

She can hear Ominis choke on a laugh yet Arieta shot you a look like it was your fault.

“I, uh,” Sebastian turned to your table, now fully aware that everyone was staring at him with various expression on their faces. “Right, let’s go.”

Ever the gentleman, Sebastian was quick to grab the books in Arieta’s arm as she held on to his hand and dragged him towards the doors.

“Arieta, huh, wouldn’t have pegged her as territorial one,” Natty chuckled, you chucked a grape at her. “What? I am only speaking my mind. Might have to watch out for that one or she might just drag poor Sebastian away from –”

Just before she finished her sentence Sebastian came bounding down the path once again stopping just beside you, catching his breath. “Hey, you’re mine tonight, okay? No adventures.”

His wording left so much to be misinterpreted that even Poppy’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, damn near resembling those mooncalfs she loves so much.

"I stand corrected," Natty muttered.

“Sebby!” Arieta screamed at the end of the hallway.

Merlin’s beard.

“I’m coming!” He threw her an impatient look before holding on to your chin so you were looking at him and forcing you to nod. “No adventures.”

This time the embarrassment of the absolute mess that was unfolding before your unfinished breakfast have overwhelmed your brain that you could only nod with him.

“No adventures.”

Sebastian smiled, one of those real, bright ones that makes your body malfunction and your heart to stop beating. Pressing one last kiss on the top of your head and managing to wave to your shared friends he was off and gone through the double doors.

The entire table was left in silence and you had hoped they would let this go but Natty couldn’t give you that mercy as she cleared her throat.

“Well, now I got even more questions.”

You’re not dating Sebastian Sallow you just think about him a lot.

You weren’t as daft as the rest of them have probably assumed. You did think there was a lot more than friendship between Sebastian and you. But with all the things that the two of you had been through it was difficult to pinpoint what it exactly was aside from their unusually intense loyalty to each other.

Was it a trauma bond? Was it just their kindred spirits refusing to let the one soul who understood them go? Did everything that they went through, the secrets they keep, the curses they threw to protect each other become the bloody ribbon that held the unhealthy attachment they had to each other? It could be love. But it could be a whole lot more complicated than that.

That’s what they were. They were complicated.

After the nightmare that was your fifth year the two of you had kept to yourselves with Ominis in tow, trying to keep as low as profile as possible and give your poor professors a break. With your newfound infamy as the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’ (blergh) and the dark secret you three were desperately keeping for Sebastian, the best you could hope for was to blend in with the rest of the nameless students in Hogwarts.

That agreement got shot into hell when your dear friend Sebastian Sallow proved to be one of the best beaters in Hogwarts’ long, long history. It was a dare that exploded in your own face to try out and irritate Imelda but when he had accidentally proven to be a bit too good at it their mutual friend clutched at him with her demanding claws and put him through the ringer until he got spat out decent enough to be one of the soldiers to secure the honor of their noble house and win the Quidditch cup this year.

Piled on top of that development was his connection to the Gaunt family, the Hero of Hogwarts, and the rumor of his hefty trust fund waiting for him the moment he turns 18 – Sebastian Sallow, just as the gods intended, became the most eligible bachelor of his age.

And thus your hell begun.

The silent charm he always had with him grew with his stature. He clearly enjoyed the attention after having hid his pretty bloody face behind dangerous books all year last year that it was almost like he was compensating for the hearts he could’ve broken. Every moon it was a different girl looped around his arms and every month it was a different friend reporting to you that your presumed ‘boyfriend’ was found snogging a goddamn Gryffindor in the Three Broomsticks.

It was annoying, confusing, and you were getting sick of it.

“Over here.”

Before you could find the source of the voice you knew all too well, a door had already opened and you were quickly pulled into an empty room – well, room was being generous as it was more of a storage space than anything.

“Sebastian!”

“Shh,” you gawked when his opened palm muffled your voice as he firmly presses it on your mouth. The unmistakable sounds of footsteps and a softer call of his name echoed the hallway outside the door. When the footsteps faded and disappeared, he had the nerve to give you a lopsided grin that turned your face red in irritation. Definitely in irritation.

Nothing quite like being forced to face the boy who had been running around your head all day.

“Sorry bout that, pet,” he chuckled, leaning on the wall an arms-length way from you. “I’m not too good with break-ups, especially when they say no.”

“Must be horrifying,” you sniped shortly, also pressing your back on the nearest wall to give you as much space as possible – it would just be absolutely mortifying to faint because your heart was beating too fast it was like it was trying to escape. “Are you gonna explain why you’ve kidnapped me in this dingy room?”

“Come on now, don’t be short with me. I just wanted to hang out with you ‘s all.”

“You want to hang out with me …. Inside a closet?”

He shrugged, “I never see you anymore these days.”

Ah, the nightmares must be back. She tries to swallow down the bitter taste in her mouth.

“That’s not my fault, Sebastian.”

At least he looked guilty. And absolutely miserable.

In the few weeks you had taken your eyes off him it would seem he had another growth spurt. Do boys just not stop growing ever? Looking up at him was starting to get painful. Plus, all those drills they run to prepare for every game had done nothing but well for his physique. You couldn’t help but run your eyes to his broad chest and shoulders before you caught yourself and nearly screamed in horror.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Rough hands grabbed one of yours. He bent his knees so he could look in your eyes as you now outright refuse to meet his, in anger for the absolute shit friend he had been the past months or in embarrassment that you so casually checked him out you’re not quite sure. “I … I got distracted but I missed you. You know I prefer your company over any other.”

Those damned brown eyes, not even the poor light in the windowless room could dull its effect on you. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Your harsh words did not match with the growing smile on your face you failed to suppress. He mirrored your grin, “Do you still have classes?”

You shook your head.

He damn near vibrated in glee. Merlin, you did miss him.

“Let me steal you away.”

In a flash, Sebastian grabbed a hold of your hand to survey the hall one last time before dragging you out of the room and into the nearest Floo. You barely caught the surprise and anger in his ex-girlfriend’s eyes as she gawked by the stairs before you got swallowed up by a green flash of powder.

“Boathouse.”

You’re not dating Sebastian Sallow because this is definitely not a date.

You wouldn’t think the Boathouse would be a romantic place but with the lack of students, the dimming sun and a gorgeous boy leading you in the inside of it for privacy – you couldn’t help but think that anyone who would pass by would be well within their right to think you had become another notch in Sebastian Sallow’s belt.

You’re not sure how you feel about that. A greater witch would’ve been offended but maybe you’re no better than the knots in his belt.

“Sit here.”

Sebastian spread out a worn-out black robe on the ground, patting on it expectantly. Before you could do it yourself, he was already kneeling beside you and removing your shoes and socks. The intimate act forced you to hold your breath, making sure you controlled your face so your jaw doesn’t fall to the floor as he slowly pulled on your socks, gently plopping them on the edge and letting the Black Lake’s water tickle your feet as they dangled.

When you were settled, he nonchalantly laid his head down on your lap. Gods, help you.

“Comfortable, aren’t you?”

He made a dramatic noise of satisfaction, even wiggling in your lap to show his assent. A giggle slipped out of your mouth at the absolute gall of him, your hands naturally falling in his soft, thick, brown hair to play with it.

“What had you been up to, pet?” he mumbles, eyes never leaving your face although you find yourself unable to do the same as you opted to look around the architecture of the Boathouse you rarely visit.

“Nothing much,” you shrugged. “Although I did find that swimming in the Forbidden Forest’s Lake was surprisingly relaxing.”

He hummed, not even surprised at your little antics when you leave his line of sight. The boy had definitely pulled you out of worse situations than roaming around the Forbidden Forest. “You should take me some time. Merlin knows relaxing is what I need.”

A scoff escaped your mouth as you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, right after I duel your newest girlfriend for the honor of getting to take you out.”

He poked your side at that, “As entertaining that would be you know all you have to do is send me an owl and I’d trek up to Maurenweem for you.”

Your face clearly showed you didn't believe him and he frowned. Carefully, you ran a finger in-between his brows where a frown formed to relax it.

At this angle you could see the toll the sleepless nights he must’ve been having had on him. If the bags on his eyes was any indication it must’ve been a few nights now. You ran your hands on his hair earning you a satisfied hum as he dangled his hand on the edge of the ledge to play with the water below.

“When was the last time you slept?”

He popped one eye open but your gentle touch proved too much as he closed it again with an even longer hum. “A few hours last night.”

“You should’ve woken me up.”

He gently shook his head, grabbing your free hand so he can hold it by his stomach.

“I didn’t wanna bother you.”

“Oh please, Sebastian.”

He chuckled at that, gripping on your hand tightly as he let out a heavy breath. “The nightmares … I thought it’s been better. Barely had any a few months ago. But now it’s just gotten worse.”

The confession broke your heart. Sebastian was not a vulnerable person; despite his usually easy and cheerful demeanor he was quick to wall himself in at the first sign of trouble. You would bet galleons of gold he still feels horrible of all the things he put you through and it was truly in desperation when he had called you over to help him through his insomnia. Which was also why you had welcomed the responsibility with open arms.

“Care to tell? Is it still about Anne?”

His estranged twin has been forefront of most of his darkest nightmares but he shook his head again and for that you were thankful he was spared that at least. “Solomon? Ominis?”

He opened his eyes; it was full of overflowing guilt and fear. And when it seemed he could no longer keep it to himself he sighed, “It’s about you. That’s the reason why I couldn’t …”

The revelation had your blood freezing. “What?”

He sat up, now facing you and taking both of your hands. “I’m only telling you this because you are my best friend and to remind you that none of this is ever your fault. You haven’t done a thing wrong, in fact, I can’t think how I would’ve gotten past any of this if it wasn’t for you.”

You held on to his hands tighter. “Sebastian, you’re scaring me.”

He shook his head, pulling you closer as if to comfort. Why was he comforting you when it was him who had been terrorized by this dream version of you. It was irrational to be mad but how could you not be when apparently you had become one of his problems while you were simultaneously desperately trying to fix it.

A palm on your cheeks pulled you out of your self-loathing.

“All of my dreams … it was of the people I love leaving me. Anne never forgiving me for the rest of my life, Ominis turning me in …”

“Oh, Sebastian,” you buried a sob on the crook of his neck, your hand roping around his back so you can rub on his back comfortingly while he lets everything out.

“And … and every time it happens my brain drives itself insane thinking of plans of what I would do if those nightmares came true. That’s the reason why I couldn’t sleep.” You looked up at him through your lashes but never leaving your spot even as he brings your legs out of the water and over his until you were in his lap.

“But then … they turned to you.” His voice dropped so low you almost shivered. “And for the life of me I just couldn’t … see an out of that. If I lost you – If you gave up on me I … I think I’d turn myself in Azkaban myself.”

“Sebastian I would never –”

“I know that,” he whispered. “But I still can’t – I can’t let it go. I can’t let go of these doubts and fear.”

This time he rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “That’s why I keep hanging out with all those girls.”

You raised your head in confusion, taking a better look at him.

“I thought if I loved you less, my nightmares would be kinder.”

The breath got caught in your throat. What is he – does he mean –

“But I couldn’t do that either,” He sighed, rubbing a hand on his face, clearly frustrated. “So I’ve decided. I’d rather go insane, let the nightmares do their worst because I am done pretending I don’t love you. I’m done avoiding you, I’m done pretending you aren’t the only light in my life. I’m done. And I love you.”

A fully grown crying Mandrake could drop from the sky and you don’t think you would’ve heard it over your own heart. You could barely comprehend anything but that his grip on your waist was so tight it was almost painful and that his pleading, terrified eyes was in the perfect angle that the late dying sun made it look like it was in a golden fire.

And that Sebastian Sallow … is in love with you. Just as madly as you were with him.

“I’m not forcing you into anything. I needed to let it out. If you want, I fully intend to formally court you until –”

“I love you.” You could no longer bear to put him in such misery. As long as you were alive, he would not question the adoration you’ve felt for him that just kept growing since the first day he had taken you to Hogsmeade. “I love you, Sebastian.”

Just for a moment there was quiet then he burst out laughing. “Thank you, darling." His body visibly shuddered as he sighed in relief, burying his face in your chest. "I’ve already planned to throw myself off the highest cliff in Hogwarts if this had gone south.”

You wrapped your hands around his neck, accepting the gentlest kisses on your neck. “Don’t say that. I plan to be your girlfriend for a very long time.”

His body shook from laughing, this time a kiss under your jaw, “Not that long I hope?”

You frowned, pulling away from him, though his unrelenting hold prevented much space to be in between the two of you. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” his thumbs rubbed circles on your thigh, now seemingly shy. “If all goes well, I had hoped to be engaged by the time we graduate. You won’t be just my girlfriend then.”

"You bastard," You gawked, laughing at his proclamation. The happiness was overflowing in your chest that you couldn’t help but just squeeze him into you hoping maybe that your souls would fuse with each other.  “You haven’t even kissed me yet and you’re already pre-proposing?”

He licked his lips, his sleepless eyes now full of vigor. “Ah, we gotta fix that, don’t we, pet?”

“We’re dating.”

Natty sighed in relief.

Poppy clapped.

Garreth passed Imelda a silver coin.

"Excuse me," Ominis muttered, standing up. “I'm gonna request a room change to the Headmaster.”

[slasherscream]

I love your writing! And you just get my craziness and character obsessions. I was thinking what would happen if reader had a bruise cheek or lip, and refuse to tell them what happen. Then they discover that the reader was the one who beat the shit out of someone for saying something about their partner, and how proud yet pissed off they will be. I’m think Crazy Ass Girls Gang, need more possessive and protective FMC. Thank you!

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine - Tricks you into thinking she’s gonna be normal about it. She purses her lips when you won’t tell her anything, but quietly rushes off to get the first-aid kit. WATCH OUT! You have just activated a trap card: emotional manipulation. Her most powerful weapon. She’ll silently and dotingly take care of you. Disinfectant. Gentle Hands. Careful bandaging. Petulant silence. Painkillers lovingly dropped in your hand. Big sad eyes staring up at you. When you inevitably break and tell her what happened she could melt! She does melt, straight into your arms. You’re gonna be covered in lipstick by the time she’s through with you. Her hero. Don’t worry, she’ll help you clean up… eventually. Later, you’ll have to help her clean up too. It was so romantic of you to fight for her honor…. But she'd never let someone live after they hurt you, silly.

Jordan Li - Won’t drop the line of questioning until you’re damn near ready to fight her too. She hates that you’re hurt. She loves that you wanted to defend her. Jordan gets a lot of criticism, sometimes it seems never ending. The fact that you feel so strongly about protecting her, not because you think she can’t fight her own battles… but because she shouldn’t have to do it all alone? It means a lot. Still, she doesn’t want you getting into fights. Let alone fights over her. It doesn’t matter how badly you hurt the other person. If there are marks on you Jordan is going to go find them for round two. “You like to put hands on people?” Words spoken seconds before disaster (she’s ignoring the fact that you started the fight. Jordan could give a shit about semantics.)

Nancy Downs - Don’t wanna tell her? Cool! Get ready to experience her favorite couple’s activity besides shoplifting: abusing your coven bond to read your mind! Hooray! It will hurt badly. Because Nancy always makes it hurt when you keep her out on purpose, or hide things from her (or when she thinks you’re doing that.) But don’t worry, after she realizes how sweet you really were, she’ll make you feel all better. Cooing over you as much as she ever allows herself to coo. Cleaning your cuts. Healing you with her magic. Trying to ease the fever that always comes whenever she uses your bond in a way she shouldn’t. She thinks you’re the stupidest, sweetest thing. You’re witches. You don’t have to use your fists anymore to win fights. She leaves you with the coven and goes to enact a witch’s vengeance on whoever dared to lay a finger on you. 

Jennifer Check - You’ll try not to tell her but she immediately starts making such wild accusations you have to just come out and admit to why you’re injured. “I can smell someone on you. If you wanted to get beat up to get your rocks off you should’ve just told me, I’d happily beat the shit out of you.” Start talking quickly! She looks like she’s about to start fulfilling that nonexistent wish now. Once you tell her she has to suppress a smile. She’s a demon. She doesn’t need you playing knight in shining armor over what some jealous, mouth-breathing, loser is saying about her… but, it’s kinda hot that you did. She’ll show you just how hot she thinks it is. Then you two are gonna take a nice little drive, and you’re gonna point out the jackass who put bruises on you. She’ll fuck you again after she’s full. “Thanks for finding my next meal, baby.” 

Victoria Neuman - Victoria expects you to have better self control than this. Not telling her what happened isn’t an option. Ever. The look on her face when you first try and insist that nothing happened is enough for you to quietly admit you got into a fight. Her blood pressure sky-rockets. You two have an image to maintain. You’re her spouse. She has enough problems as it is. She’s thinking of viral videos, nightly news, seedy gossip magazines doing think-pieces: do we really want this person standing behind the president as first spouse? When you tell her you fought one of the Boys for trying to convince you she’s a monster? Well…. She goes a little softer. Victoria will pull you into the circle of her arms and thank you for being so loyal to her. She means it from the bottom of her heart. She’s also dreaming of the day she can pop their fucking heads. Touching you. Talking to you. Trying to turn you against her… they’ve crossed her last line. 

Carrie White - The moment she sees you she’s in hysterics: “Oh, Angel, what happened?!” You’re really gonna sit there and not tell her anything? She’s worked herself into an anxiety attack within seconds. She can hardly open the first aid kit, she’s shaking so bad. The sound of your voice is always so soothing for her that you’ll start telling her the story just to have something to say. She listens quietly while she cleans you up. You’ll have to pull her into your lap before long, and kiss her gently. You’re all she has in the world and it scares her to death to think of you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. You’ll fall asleep curled into each other’s arms. You whisper soft reassurances: “Nothing’s gonna happen to me / I’ll always be here.” Carrie tries her best to listen. You’ll wake up alone, but wander downstairs just as Carrie walks through the front door. She wanted to get her knight in shining armor some breakfast from your favorite diner down the street. She watches you eat with a big smile, and thinks about how she’ll have to burn those clothes in the trunk of the car. She couldn't risk them trying to hurt you again.

Ginger Fitzgerald - Don’t piss her off. If you don’t tell her exactly who touched you she’ll rip the entire city apart. Women, children, men, everyone. Anyone. “Do you want me to do that? Huh, baby? Is that what you want me to do?” No? Then start talking. She won’t be able to see through the blood-lust long enough to take care of you. As soon as you say a name Ginger’s out the door. She’ll only return once she’s thoroughly covered in viscera and gore. She’s still dripping with it when she crawls into bed with you, smearing the blood across your body. She’ll lick at any injury you have, until they’re clean and closed, your skin smooth and unblemished. She’s the only thing that can leave marks on you. She’ll kill anything else that tries. “You don’t have to lift a finger for me, baby. If you want someone hurt, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.” Just run your fingers through her hair and try not to cringe as your fingertips get stained red. 

Patricia (Split) - She’s devastated by the state you come home in after she allows you to go out on a walk all by yourself for the first time since you were…. taken. You’d been so good for her. So obedient. So sweet. She wanted to reward you. And now your eye is starting to bruise, and your clothes are all askew, and your knuckles are swollen. Her calm demeanor cracks, and it’s a struggle to stay in the light. She takes deep breaths, centers herself. None of the others are what you need, right now. You need her. She strips you down, runs you a bath, won’t even let you hold the washcloth. It’s only as she’s patting you dry that she can force out words, finally: “What happened to you, sweet thing, hmm?” The guilt nearly brings her to tears. Months of keeping you close and look at what just a pinch of negligence has done to you… You try to assuage her guilt. You tell her you ran into a neighbor, who’d seen the two of you out together once Patricia trusted you enough to accompany her for little things like grocery trips. You say it’s your fault you came back to her in this condition. That you just couldn’t stand the vile things they said about her. Her face drops into an expression you’ve never seen. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by that comforting, ever present smile she wears for you. She takes you by the chin and kisses your forehead: “My little sweet thing. Playing knight, are you?” You had her love before. Tentatively, you had something like trust. Now Patricia trusts you completely. Even so, you won’t be going out alone again. Patricia trusts you. But it’s clear she can’t trust the world to be gentle with you. Don’t worry, though. All you need to do is ask, when you want to feel the sun on your face. You never see that neighbor again, no matter what time of day you and Patricia go walking.

A/N: thank you!!! we need more batshit crazy women with something wrong with them! Batshit crazy women with something wrong with them unite! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo

[princessbrunette]

rafe whos proud of u for being the bigger person for once ?? maybe in an argument w someone u are always the one throwing tantrums but for (once) u decided to keep the rage to urself and rafe is js so proud :(

🧁ಇ.ೀ

arguing with a friend over text was juvenile — rafe thought so anyway, but he also supposed that a girl like yourself wouldn’t wanna handle all her business face to face, or with violence such as he would.

you’d been in endless conflict lately. what about? he couldn’t tell you, but everyday it was a new argument with one of your friends which lead to a total, utter meltdown which he had to calm you down from. you didn’t take well to being accused of things, you didn’t like being treated poorly and you hated feeling misunderstood. that’s what he’d gathered from these out bursts anyway, usually explained through muffled babbling as he holds you tightly to his chest. you were like him in a sense sometimes, couldn’t control your emotions. however instead of lashing out, you just were a total cry baby.

he’d found you like that when he’d arrived home, being able to hear it all the way from downstairs. he sighs, jogging up the stairs to find you pacing his bedroom, phone tightly clutched infront of you, letting out loud sobs with your eyes glued to the screen.

“whats— what’s all this what’s going on?” rafe pauses in the doorway, dumbfounded and practically gaping at the fact this was happening again. you sniff harshly, voice high and defensive like rafe was the one attacking you.

“she said i’m a bad friend and i’m disloyal but you know i’m not you know i try—” you cough, and rafe walks in, setting his sunglasses and keys down on the dresser.

“who? same girl who was givin’ you trouble yesterday?” he squints, leaning against the dresser as he watches you pace around, an upset wreck.

“yes.” you whine, bringing a fingernail to your mouth as you continue to cry, reading over the message.

“alright, okay so what are you gonna do about it? ‘cos this can’t keep happening everyday baby you’re — you’re not in high school anymore.” he pushes, almost unable to believe for once that he was the voice of reason.

you think for a long time, letting out a sad sob as you lock your phone and drop it onto the bed, wiping your eyes. “be the bigger person.” you repeat his words, words he’s been encouraging you to follow since the first argument. it was difficult, you refused — and he didn’t fight you too hard on it. being the bigger person is hard when you’re being unfairly attacked.

“yeah? come over here.” he opens his arms and you drag your feet over, snivelling and pawing at your eyes. “its hard, alright? if anyone knows it’s me. but you’re… you’re so much better than these girls okay they’re nobodies. trust me. you’re doin’ a good thing kid. believe it.” he gently bats your hands away so he can thumb beneath your eyes instead, cupping your hot wet face with large coarse hands.

“not in high school anymore.” you repeat his words, voice raspy from your own crying and he nods slowly, eyes wide and intense as they stare into yours. he really wanted to get the message across.

“right. you’re a big girl now. time to do big girl things, yeah? when you’re with me, you—you can let all that shit go and lemme take care of things. but when it comes to your friends they’re just immature little girls and you gotta step up. like me, yeah?” he points to his chest in a quick succession of taps. “like daddy.”

you nod in his grasp, exhausted from it all. “okay.”

it’s then he lets you melt against him, cradling your body to his chest and rubbing your back with the wide expanse of his hand. “okay. i’m proud, don’t forget that.”

🧁ಇ.ೀ

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

authors note: this chapter covers the aftermath of solana's attempt in the previous chapter. please heed to content warnings in order to make an informed decision regarding reading this chapter.

i'm going to handle solana's experience in the hospital as realistically as i can, but there are creative liberties taken as well. and don't come for me for the ending either. :/

cw/tw: angst, discussion and coverage of the aftermath of a suicide attempt, mental health discussions.

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 15k

Roman has a long to-do list. He always does and always will. But, this is by far one of the last things he wants to do. 

He’s going on 24 hours of no sleep, which isn’t the first time he’s done as such, but it’s the first time he’s done as such and actually felt the impact of the sleep deprivation. And truth be told, deep down he knows the exhaustion that he feels is more mental than anything.

It’s the result of the toll that finding out Solana tried to kill herself has taken on him. 

Is taking on him.

But, he can’t deal with that shit right now. He can’t deal with it because he’s got his Wise Man, Rikishi, Solo, Jimmy and Jey all sitting around him, wearing various levels of confused expressions. Which only irritates Roman more because Rikishi and Paul are the only ones who should be confused. The twins have been with him dealing with all of the shit the past 24 hours. 

Solo too.

Rikishi is the first to speak, studying Roman. The Tribal Chief is more than sure he noticed the grimace on Roman’s face as he went to roll his shoulders, remembering yet again of the wound that probably won’t heal as quickly as predicted given the fact he’s done the complete opposite of ‘taking it easy.’

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

“There was an assassination attempt on Solana’s life last night.” Roman’s sentence is matter-of-fact and to the point, nevermind the fact that his right hand forms into a fist at just saying as such. 

Rikishi and Paul share shocked expressions, Roman’s older cousin being the one to ask, “is she—”

“Bullet hit me instead. Didn’t lodge. I’ll be fine.” Roman only adds that last part because of the horrified look on Paul’s face, already knowing his Wise Man will bombard him with questions about his injury. “Xavier Miller and his boy were behind the attempt. I’m handling them now.” 

“But sir, why would Miller want his own daughter dead?”

Roman closes his eyes and rolls his neck, working to settle his rising temper. He hates talking about this shit. It only spikes his eagerness to get his hands on Miller and rip him apart limb by limb. “Because she didn’t go along with his plan.”

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

Roman’s jaw clenches. “He wanted her to kill me.” 

The rest of the men look equally shocked, Paul gasping loudly, asking, “she’s a traitor?”

If looks could kill, Paul would be six feet under. Roman has to mentally restrain from acting out on his suddenly murderous urges. “She’s my wife.”

Rikishi, however, seemingly tosses his longtime friend a lifeline, trying to reason with his younger cousin. “Uce, that doesn’t mean she can’t be both—”

“What I’m hearing….” Solo surprises the men around the table as he sits forward. “—is that she can’t be trusted.”

Roman isn’t sure just how much of his anger and rage at the accusations being slung against Solana is showing, his Solana, but it must be enough for the twins, of all people, to try and de-escalate.

“Come on now, this is Soso we talking about.” Jimmy is the first to kick off peacemaking. He looks at his father, “pops, you was there when we first met her. She was nervous as shit. Ain’t nothing about that girl dangerous.”

Jey chimes in, handling Solo. “And you of all people should definitely know that’s not Solana. She would never hurt nobody, let alone kill nobody.”

Solo, however, simply scoffs. “Like she ain’t hurt her brother?”

“What was she supposed to do? Let him beat her?” Jimmy is the one to snap, shouting back with a suck of his teeth, “man, that bitch deserved it!”

Rikishi jumps in, defending his younger son. “I think what Solo is trying to say is that it proves she is, in fact, capable of hurting someone if she wanted to.”

“Why would she want to hurt Roman? That don’t even make no—”

“Enough!” Roman’s fist slams down on the table. “The next person to say one more negative thing about my wife is getting a bullet in their fucking skull.” There’s a blanket of silence, all of the men knowing that Roman would absolutely carry through on this threat. A promise, really. 

Roman swallows, both from anger and something else he can’t pinpoint. “Solana tried to kill herself last night. What in the fuck about that presents a danger?” He doesn’t care enough to observe the reactions of that news. Doesn’t give a fuck. “The only person she’s a danger to is herself.”

Paul is the brave soul, or perhaps just stupidly and naively asking, “is she—okay?” 

“I said tried, didn’t I?” Roman snaps, forcing the pudgy man to recoil back in his seat. Roman clenches his jaw yet again, directing his statement to the next older man. “Rikishi.” He runs a hand over his face. “Meet with the Elders. Tell them about the assassination attempt. That it was Miller. Nothing about the plan. And leave it at that.”

Rikishi removes his glasses, sitting up at the table. “Roman, the Elders should know—” 

“The Elders know what I want them to know, and I want them to know that someone tried to kill my wife, and I’m handling it. That’s it.” Incapable of dealing with any more of this shit, Roman stands up from the chair, turning his back on the rest of his family. “Wise Man, let’s go.”

The obese man also shoots up from the chair, nearly tripping over his feet as he wordlessly follows Roman out of the room. 

Left alone is just Rikishi and his sons, the patriarch asking, “she tried to kill herself?”

Jimmy and Jey wear similar frowns, recalling the horrific truth they learned about their ‘Soso’ just hours prior. Jimmy shuts his eyes, unable to push away the memory of a hysterical Naomi throwing herself into his chest at the memory of finding Solana unconscious. 

“It’s….it’s a long story,” Jey answers in a low voice, wanting to be respectful. Aware or not, Solana’s story is hers to tell and hers only. 

Truthfully, he’s slightly surprised Roman even disclosed that part of the past 24 hours. 

“Yeah, there’s a lot of the story that Roman left out,” Solo suddenly finds his voice again, sharing directly to his father and brothers. “Like the fact that Roman took that bullet for her.”

“What?” Riksihi asks, shock stamped all over his voice. 

“I was right there. I saw the whole thing. He pushed her out the way.”

Jimmy shrugs. “He protected his wife. What’s wrong with that? We all would have done the same.”

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

Solo continues, pointing out. “But, Roman ain’t like us. He’s the Tribal Chief. He needs to act like it.”

“Careful, son,” Rikishi cautions, seemingly breaking from his conflicted state. “Your Uce sits at the head of the table for a reason. His ways may be unorthodox at times, but his reign won’t be questioned. We won’t disrespect him.”

Solo scoffs. “But you’ll disrespect the other Elders by lying for him?”

Jey jumps in, chiding, “man, what’s up with you tonight?”

Solo scoffs, pointing to himself. “Me? I’m not the one whose judgment is clouded. We all know if this was one of us and the roles were reversed with our wives, Roman would want them executed. He’s not thinking straight.” Solo looks around the room, noticing there’s a brief second of silence. “Ya’ll see it too. I’m just the only one who’s willing to say it. Roman is losing focus—”

“That’s enough, Solo.” Rikishi raises his voice, firmer, that of a father. “You’re out of line, son.” 

Solo looks around the room, halfway waiting for his older brothers to jump to his defense, to agree with what they have to know is the truth. But, when that doesn’t happen, he also shoots up from the table, rocking it in the process, leaving the room without another word.

Once gone, Jimmy motions with his thumb. “Man, he is tripping.” He shakes his head, asking his father, “you want us to talk to him?”

“No.” Rikishi answers almost immediately, sighing heavily, running his hand over his face. “I’ll do it….you all just….watch Roman.” He stands up, as Jey mutters something about having the hard job. “And sons….this conversation doesn’t leave this room, understood?” Jimmy and Jey look slightly confused and taken back, Rikishi explaining, “I know you’re both closer with Roman. But, he’s just your cousin. Solo is your brother. He’s definitely tripping, but he’s still your family too, and there’s nothing more important than brotherhood, alright?”

________

Roman awakens with a heavy sigh that’s followed by his eyes closing. 

His sleep has been shit the past few days, and it’s been solely because his bed is cold and empty on the other side. Because he’s sleeping alone, something he once cherished but now can barely tolerate. He didn’t realize just how much he enjoyed Solana’s soft body pressed up against him, the satisfaction he felt waking up to her every morning.

Now, he just awakens to silence or the sound of Dulce whimpering or barking. 

Dulce’s whimpers on the side of the bed remind him of the fact that she’s still sleeping in his room. In their room. On Solana’s side.

Her empty side.

Moving the blankets off, Roman swings his big body over the side of the bed and walks over to motion for her to follow him. “Come on.”

He knows she has to empty her bladder, but he’s grateful for a reason to leave the space that reeks of Solana, a constant reminder of her absence. 

It’s….an experience, to say the least. 

Picking her up, he carries her down the steps, through the house, and out the back sliding door by the kitchen. Roman places her in the grass, letting her do her business as he goes to sit down on the edge of one of the chaise lounge.

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

Suck a weird fucking thing. Something he’s never really understood. 

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

He’s always been confounded by the emotion that makes people act so outside of their character, clouds their judgment, and seizes their brain in crippling ways. He never saw the appeal in it. Never wanted it.

And then came Solana. 

If someone had told him four months ago that he’d not only be married to a woman he actually cares about let alone would end up loving, he’d probably knock them flat on their ass. Harshly criticize their stupidity at the very least. 

Falling in love with Solana was never the plan. He never wanted this for himself. He just needed to marry to create an official heir. And that was it. She would do her thing, taking care of the kid and whatnot. And he would still do him, continuing his life of commitment free sexual relations with whoever was his flavor of the week. Or day. 

And yet all of that, just the thought of it, sours his expression. 

He doesn’t want anyone other than Solana. Doesn’t desire to be intimate with anyone other than her. It’s her he wants to wake up to every morning, her he wants to make happy. He just wants her. Nobody else.

Because he loves her.

And it’s a shocking, life changing realization he finally stumbled into while sitting at her hospital bed. An epiphany he’s certain was heavily transitioned from subconscious to conscious given the events that transpired that night.

She almost died, was almost shot, and there’s not a fucking part of him would do anything differently. He’d take that bullet and any other bullet for her anytime. 

Because he loves her.

He stood between her and her piece of shit father, not thinking twice about it, only knowing that decision would forever negatively change her life. Thinking how he promised her he would never let her end up in that position. 

Because he loves her. 

And he sat at her hospital bed, holding her hand, pouring his heart out to her because the second those infamous words left Jey’s mouth, his world nearly collapsed. He couldn’t think straight as he rushed to the hospital, uncaring and uninterested in anything except being with her, holding her, catering to her. Whatever she needed. He just needs her to be okay. 

Because he loves her.

Roman’s head tilts back, the weight of all this lying on his chest. 

He can’t deny it. Can’t deny he loves her. Not to himself, at least. He just doesn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

There’s…..there’s no room for love in his life. No place for it. Love is weakness, and Roman has never and can never be weak. He’s the Tribal Chief. The Head of the Table. The leader of the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra. There is no space for weakness.

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

Dulce walking over to the chaise lounge that Roman realizes is usually the one she sits on when she’s writing brings him back to the sadness that creeps in at her absence. Dulce must feel the same as she lays down, ears also down, whimpering.

Roman beckons her over, watching as she slowly walks over to his feet, ears still down as he picks her up and places her on his lap. It’s something not even a week ago he would probably do. But, that was then, and this is now. 

And now, he almost feels a sense of duty to Solana’s puppy. 

Because it’s this same puppy, he’s learned, that barked nonstop at Bayley and Naomi, running over to Solana and starting to cry, effectively alerting them that something was wrong.

Very wrong.

With an uncharacteristic level of emotion, Roman gently strokes the top of her head. “You saved her life….” For his own mental sanity, Roman chooses not to think about what the alternative could have been. What his reality would be if this small, five pound animal didn’t have such a close, protective bond to her human. “Thank you.”

Dulce whimpers in response, laying her body on his lap, staring at the empty pool chair. 

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

The emotion is undeniable as he acknowledges in a soft voice. “I miss her too..”

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

Solana glances at her lock screen at hearing the familiar, personalized notification sound. The sound she set specifically for texts from her husband. Her smile is already set on her face but settles into something deeper as another message slides in.

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

Placing the pencil down on the nearest surface, she swaps out her task at hand for a brief break to respond to the question she anticipated would be proposed at some point in the day. 

Just not this soon, perhaps.

Solana wipes one hand on her shorts, the other unlocking her phone to open his thread. Preparing to reply, her gaze shifts over to her sweet baby boy, sleeping peacefully in his infant pillow. Low, relaxing music plays from her Alexa on the nightstand, lulling and keeping him in his slumber. Similarly, Dulce lays peacefully in her bed on Solana’s side of the bed, curled into a little ball.

The smile somehow grows deeper.

Solana: I’m okay. You don’t need to come home, really.

Solana quickly snaps a photo of the baby and includes it with her next message.

Solana: We’re good. :) 

Solana brings her finger to gently caress her son’s cheek. He has such a calm disposition about him. Even at 6 weeks. She can just see he’s taken on more of her demeanor than his dad’s. Granted, she also noticed the same thing about her oldest twin, only for her to gradually be morphing into the female version of her father.

Roman hearting the photo captures her attention once again followed by his reply, which seems to be the result of long distance mind reading.

Roman: He’s been a lot easier than the girls were. But, time will tell. 

Roman: Where are they?

She giggles, imagining his elongated sigh as he considers what could be in store for them once their son starts to get bigger and older. Can move around and get into things with his sisters. It’s more likely than not bound to happen.

Solana: In their playrooms. They’ve been surprisingly quiet too….for now. Lol

Solana knows her girls well enough to know silence with them, mostly when they’re together, isn’t usually long lived. The quieter of the two is very much like Solana, able to stay and keep to herself just fine without making much or any noise. Her sister, however, older by 6 minutes exactly, is not.

She is rambunctious and loud and loves to be moving. And when they’re together, that adventurous nature rubs off on Solana’s twin, usually resulting in them getting into something. More often than not.

Roman: I talked to them last night. Reminded them it's important they listen and help you out.

This is something she already knew, having overheard as he put them to bed while she catered to their newborn. He’s done that a lot since the birth of their son. Really taken over as much as he can with helping the girls, when it’s something he can do. And if he can’t do it, like them wanting to do art with her or bake something, usually the youngest vs the oldest, he’s on baby duty. 

Whether he realizes it or not, he truly is great at being a dad. Though something tells her, always has, that even three kids deep, he struggles with that insecurity at not being good at it.

Not being good enough.

Roman: I still think it was too early for me to come back to work and leave you alone with everything.

And there it is. What Solana already knew he was thinking but is happy to see him finally admit. Roman’s been working from home the past six weeks, since the birth of their son. And while she’s appreciated having him home, helping her out with managing their growing family, it was time for him to return back to the ‘office.’ 

She knows he worries about her, worries about her feeling overwhelmed, but she’s been good the past few years with being open with him. That hasn’t and won’t change. 

Solana: You were going to have to go back eventually, Ro. I’m okay, really. The girls really don’t cause me any issues. And he’s easy.

Solana: Outside of when he’s groping and squeezing the mess out of my breast. 😅

Breastfeeding has never been much of an issue for Solana. And, while it was definitely a bit of a challenge breastfeeding twins, there was never a pressing enough problem for her to not consider doing the same for her third child.

Granted, unlike the girls who, at most, felt around her breast while getting their fill, her son is more handsy. His little palms often slapping, squeezing and even scratching with his nails she makes sure to try to keep cut low. 

She chuckles, thinking about how this could very much be another small sign she’s in store for yet another energetic child. It lines up though. Even when he’s sleepy, little scowl on his face, she sees Roman. In all of the children, really. But with him, the way his little lips dip and light eyebrows cave into a look of unmistakable disapproval, usually when she takes too long to pick him up or feed him, that’s all Roman.

Roman: Smart kid. 

She giggles, sending out a reply that’s a result of years of growing more comfortable with teetering the lines of risque topics and innuendos.

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she keeps the conversation going with another risky text. 

Solana: Just two more weeks until I’m….cleared. 

Over the years, and as she’s continued to heal, Solana has found herself with a sexual appetite that’s nowhere near her husband’s nor most women her age, but it’s there. Coming and going. Ebbing and flowing. And lately, it’s been on the flowing side.

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

She sighs at his reply that’s not entirely unsurprising. He absolutely would want to go past the recommended 8 weeks that she was told by her doctor that they would need to wait to resume intimacy. An extended period of time than the usual 6 weeks due to the second degree tear she sustained while birthing her third child. A thing that can happen during childbirth and wasn’t anything too serious, but something she knows her husband sees as just that.

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

Understanding is different from agreeing, but she won’t push him on it. 

Solana: Besides, don’t want to risk another baby.

Solana: Just yet anyway….

Having this conversation over text probably isn’t the way to go, but she has no doubt he’ll talk with her about it more in person when he comes home tonight, after all three kids are down for bed.

That doesn’t mean they can’t start it now, at least, though.

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

Roman: You forget I’m 10 years older than you. I’m getting too old for all these kids, Solana.

It’s true they just welcomed their baby boy not even two months ago. And Roman is aging. He’s older, the gray in his beard spreading by the day, but he’s still just as active and fit into his forties as he was when they met years prior. Thus, he’s exaggerating. 

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

His reply comes in a bit quicker than she was anticipating. 

Roman: It wasn’t. 

She smiles. Solana has learned her husband well over the years. Knows him well enough to know that if there wasn’t a part of him also interested in maybe having another child, he would be clear about his standpoint. He would express his disagreement. 

So his comment would suggest he’s not team no. That he’s open, and his following texts confirm as such.

Roman: But, this would be it. Four is more than enough.

She smiles, knowing that this definitely will still be discussed in person tonight but happy that he’s unwilling to deny himself. Solana’s love for him has only deepened since seeing him step into the role of fatherhood. 

She just wishes she could get him to see how good he is at this. The girls wouldn’t adore him as much as they do if he was bad at it, per se.

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

Solana: Unless we get another set of twins….😅

Roman: Jesus Christ 

Solana giggles, imagining the look he must have on his face. Probably similar to when they found out about the girls. She wasn’t entirely surprised given how strongly twins run on his side of the family.

But, he most certainly was.

A quiet knock pulls her from the conversation as she lays her eyes on the twins who are waiting by the door with hesitant expressions. She waves them over, placing her finger over her mouth to remind them to be quiet to avoid waking up the still sleeping baby.

They tip toe over to her, moving to her side of the bed, leaning over and looking at him. The oldest is the one to ask, whispering, “why does he sleep so much, mama?”

Solana chuckles. “That’s what babies do. They need a lot of sleep to grow big and strong.”

The quieter of the two of them deviates from her usual silence to predict, “he’s gonna be big and strong like papa.”

The oldest, however, doesn’t hesitate to reiterate. “I’m still gonna be the tribal chief though.”

Solana has such a torn reaction she does well at hiding. As much as she loves how much her technically first born admires Roman and wants to be just like him, she also has no idea just what it is that Roman really does. The true weight that comes with wearing the Ula Fala. 

Or the fact that by his family’s laws and traditions, their son is the true heir to the Bloodline. Granted, she also suspects it’s those same laws and traditions Roman will fight tooth and nail to change should their daughter, even after knowing the truth about the Bloodline, still want to pursue taking his place when the time comes for him to step down.

Roman would do anything to give her just as much a chance to the keys to the kingdom as her brother.

But, that’s so far down the line, and Solana doesn’t like thinking about it too much. She just wants to enjoy her children as they are now, innocent and oblivious.

Ms. Quiet stays on her talking streak, asking quietly, “can we still go to aunt Bayley’s house today?”

Solana nods. She briefly forgot about that, but it’s still very much doable. “Of course.” 

The girls gasp and look at each other, Solana already knowing another request is about to follow. Roman’s little twin ends up being the one to ask, “mama, can we go see papa at his office before?”

She shouldn’t be surprised. One of their favorite things to do is stop by and see Roman while he’s at work. Something she hasn’t done in some time, not since the birth of her son and even then, it had been a few months.

Solana starts to text and ask him if he’s busy, but one look at the happiness on the girls’ faces at being able to see their dad, and she knows she doesn’t need to.

She knows there’s no way on God’s green earth that he would turn them away, even if he stopped or canceled a meeting just to interact with them.

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

With excitement bubbling in her stomach at seeing her husband, Solana takes a glance at her son, smile growing as he stirs, clearly just as ready to see daddy. 

She then looks back at her just excited girls, sharing, “time to go see papa.”

“Time to get up.”

Solana has to blink a couple of times to reorient herself, almost entirely due to the shocking nature of her dream. A dream she’s now had every night since being admitted to the hospital, glimpses, and what feels like peeks, into the future.

Her future.

But, at the same time, it’s a distant thing that seems unattainable and unrealistic given where she is now. On a legally mandated psychiatric hold after attempting to die by suicide.

“You up, sweetie?”

Solana nods and sits up in the bed, accepting the water and pills in the small medicine bowl. She doesn’t hesitate to swallow all three, offering a small smile to the nurse who’s been assigned to her, making sure she takes her medication as prescribed.

The nurse, Carol, she thinks, reminds, “breakfast starts in twenty.”

Solana nods, pushing back some of her hair, waiting for the older woman to leave before she lays back down on the bed. 

She shuts her eyes. 

The past few days have been…..an experience. An emotional ride unlike any she’s been on in years. The last time she can recall struggling and feeling as heavy as she was was when she woke up from her coma and had it confirmed that her mother was dead. Something she knew but held onto the invisible string of hope that Nina somehow survived. 

Even though Solana still recalls the moment she heard and saw her mother take her last breath. 

It’s a weight that’s lessened tremendously over the past couple of days, since she woke up yet a second time, less irrational, not as hysterical. Part of her reaction was most definitely due to still feeling suicidal, still believing that being dead would be better for everyone. But her reaction was exacerbated by the fact that two male nurses moved to restrain her as she tried to move from the hospital bed. Having male hands on her like that was triggering and made her emotions that much more difficult to manage in an already tense situation.

But the second time she awoke, Solana saw nothing but women. Truth be told, she’s only had women on her care team since being admitted. It’s made such a big difference. 

All of it has.

Being in this space, so separated from the outside world. It’s been both difficult and welcomed. A nice escape from a recently draining reality but also a heavy separation that she’s brought up a couple times now in her individual therapy sessions with her therapist, Gail.

That is the difficulty in being separated from Roman. It’s a dichotomy. As much as she wants to see and talk to him, she wants to hide and avoid him. She wants to explain yet also never have to discuss it again. An avoidance behavior that is typical for survivors of suicide attempts, another thing she’s learned in therapy thus far. 

But more than anything, Solana just wants to talk to him. She remembers from when she was admitted as a teen following her first attempt that communication is typically cut off from the outside. She just didn’t realize it would be the same protocol as an adult. 

Something intended to avoid patients from being re-triggered. She gets that, but it doesn't make her miss him any less. 

This is the first time they’ve been separated from one another since before the wedding, and it’s not a fun experience. 

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

No one wants to be in the hospital. And no one definitely wants to be in the hospital on a legal hold because they’ve been deemed a danger to themselves and thus needs 24/7 supervision.

That part sucks, but what hasn’t sucked for Solana is being able to be as honest and vulnerable as she needs to be. To cry and fully acknowledge the extent of her feelings, to be as raw as she’s been in her therapy sessions thus far with Gail. The woman whose kind smile, non-judgemental and self-disclosure of also being violated has created such a safe space for her. 

Solana knew, knows, that she can talk to Roman. That he’s made it clear there’s nothing she can’t discuss with him. But, there’s something about speaking to another woman, someone who’s also sadly been through something similar that’s….that’s healing, almost. 

Knowing Carol will be back for another reminder about breakfast, Solana pulls from her thoughts and leaves her bed to start her day.

Everything in the hospital is planned, time cut out for everything from meds, breakfast, group therapy, individual therapy and more. There’s only so much time in the day that’s reserved as ‘free time,’ though being hospitalized doesn’t present a ton of options for one to choose from during said ‘free time.’

However, Solana has always been able to occupy herself and keep herself busy, and this is no different. 

Later that day, she’s in one of the common areas, utilizing her free time with one of her favorite coping mechanisms. One she’s recently revisited and brought back to lean on. Pencil in hand, Solana uses the sketchbook she was given by Gail. No particular drawing in mind, it’s not missed on her how the bare bones outline of the face she’s drawing has very similar features to that of her husband.

“Hey.”

Solana lifts her head from the page, landing on two women who she’s seen in passing and up close in her group therapy. Both are brunette with similar heights yet different builds. The shorter one looks like she keeps herself in the gym, slender muscles visible even with the hospital provided clothing they all wear. The other is a few inches taller and curvier, her breast stretched against the material. The shorter one is the one who spoke. One looks amenable, the other does not. The one who spoke is, unfortunately, not the one with the friendly expression.

Solana swallows, gaze somewhat traveling as she sees one of the orderlies already watching the interaction. Closely. He’s a big man whose size looks disproportionate to the job he holds here, and she’s noticed him watching her a couple of times. Yet, it’s never been a predatory gaze. Almost…..protective.

“Solana, right?” She nods as the two women plop on the other sofa adjacent to the one Solana sits on. “I’m AJ, and this is Candice.” She gestures to the other woman with her thumb, the brunette waving and smiling almost giddily. Before Solana can say anything else, AJ is leaned over, asking in a low voice. “You’re Roman’s wife, right?”

Solana tenses. For some reason, that rubs her the wrong way, sends an unfamiliar chill up her spine. Something in her tells her to lie, but it’s no use in denying the obvious. “Yes.”

AJ snorts and sits back, arm lazily lounged up on the top of the sofa. “Well, I was gonna ask you how’d you end up here, but I guess that’s an obvious answer.” AJ laughs darkly, making her comment to Candice but directing it towards Solana. “I’d try to off myself too if I had to be married to that son of a bitch.”

Clearly, Solana has not been in a good place recently, hence her current situation. Her emotions have been all over the place. That’s why she chalks up her next actions to the fact that she’s still coming down from her relapse. 

Closing up the sketchpad, Solana sits up and doesn't stutter as she states clearly and concisely to AJ, “you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, so why don’t you just shut up and leave me alone?” 

Candice's shock matches that of Solana’s, but the former doesn’t back down. Doesn’t suddenly regret her statement. Maybe it’s adrenaline. Maybe it’s the fact that Solana feels the anger stirring inside her at even the insinuation that Roman could ever be the cause of her trying to end her life.

When he’s the one that saved it. 

AJ, however, doesn’t look shocked. She looks pissed off.

And then she’s smiling. 

“Oh, sweetie, you have no idea who you’re messing with.” AJ starts to stand up, Candice following suit though she looks more confused and dumbfounded than anything. Like she’s there but not here. “Your psychopath husband isn’t here to save you—”

“You lay one hand on her, and I’ll snap your fucking neck like a twig.”

Three sets of eyes land on the figure who’s way too big for them to have not heard his footsteps, but that’s exactly what’s happened. The orderly who Solana has noticed watching her since her admission is standing almost protectively beside where she still sits on the sofa. His gaze and voice are hard as steel, focused on AJ and Candice. “I suggest you leave. Now. And stay the hell away from her.”

Solana looks between this man who, for some reason, is defending her and AJ, who still looks more amused than anything. She scoffs. “Of course.” Frowning, Solana is still stuck on the fact that this orderly who’s working in a psychiatric wing for women who’ve tried to kill themselves just threatened to kill another woman when AJ simply turns to walk away, Candice hot on her heel.

And as soon as they're out of the vicinity, the man steps back, as if wanting to grant Solana space. He then exclaims, further deepening her shock, “you’ll be safe here, Mrs. Reigns. You have my word.” 

Mrs. Reigns…..

Solana is suddenly taken back to her birthday trip, the way she was addressed by the pilots, the chef, and anyone else that Roman hired to assist them on their vacation. And that’s when it hits her.

“Bloodline…..” It makes so much sense. Why he’s always seemed to be around when she’s not in her room, the way he’s watched her almost nonstop since she arrived, the way he intervened just now. “You’re Bloodline.”

“Dave.” He offers a small, respectful smile that’s all the answer she needs. “But everyone calls me by my last name, Bautista.”

________

“Hey.”

It’s interesting how a simple word can bring on such a reaction.

Just yesterday, the same word was said to her and followed up with a not terrible but strange interaction.

She can only pray this time around is different. 

Solana takes a second to pause and shut her eyes before she looks up from her inner arm where she works on the assignment given in her first group therapy session.

Her eyes land on three women, all familiar faces because they’re all in her group. However, she’s never directly spoken to them prior to now.

Solana swallows and offers a small smile. “Hi….” 

Solana studies all of them, different in skintones, builds, hair colors and even facial expressions. The one who spoke first pushes her raven hair over shoulder and clears her throat, asking, “is it—is it true that your husband had the orderlies and security replaced with Bloodline members?”

The question takes her back, Solana unsure of how to respond, not because she doesn’t know the answer. She does. Baustista indirectly confirming that he was sent by her husband to watch over her has made Solana realize that it’s not just him who she catches watching her whenever she’s not in her room. It’s other men as well. Big, strong, much too in shape for a job like this.

The only logical thing that makes sense to her is that Roman is, once again, looking out for her. As he always does. 

“That’s pretty fucking cool. If so.” Another one comments, her brunette pulled to the side of her neck as she sits down on the sofa opposite Solana. “It was even better seeing AJ put in her place.”

Solana swallows, quite unsure just how to respond to that. “I—I don’t want to cause any problems.”

The first woman scoffs, also sitting down next to the other lady. “You might not, but AJ does. I honestly don’t know why they don’t put her in the other wing with Victoria.”

“The other wing?”

The third woman breaks her silence, explaining, her voice quiet and typical for her equally unassuming demeanor. “There’s two psychiatric wings here. The one we’re in and another for more….severe cases.”

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

“Melina!” The woman with brunette hair shakes her head, smiling a little as she formally introduces everyone. “I’m Mickey. This is Melina, and that’s Cameron, but we call her Cam.”

For some reasons, the names fit all of them, Solana moving to the side as Cam gestures to the space next to her and takes an almost apprehensive seat. 

“Solana—”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are, girl.” Mickey snickers, leaning back into the sofa and crossing her legs over one another. “You might just be my new favorite person.”

Solana frowns, completely lost at this seemingly random title. “I don’t—-I don’t understand.”

“AJ thinks she runs shit around here. Her and that dumbass friend of hers, Candice Michelle.” Melina explains, shaking her head. “AJ definitely should be in the other ward with Victoria. She’s the psychiatrist that runs it. Doesn’t put up with shit. Almost polar opposite of Dr. Stratus.”

Solana doesn’t know much beyond what’s being said, but something tells her she’s most definitely in the better of two places. Even if just getting to have Dr. Stratus manages her meds. She really likes her. 

However, this conversation brings up a very valid question that Solana doesn’t exactly know how to word very well but finds it in her to ask. “So you all….you’ve been here before?” 

It’s obvious, given the fact that they’re all so familiar with each other and dynamics. Same with this AJ and Candice person, but Solana doesn’t want to assume.

There’s a silence that falls over the women, and Solana instantly feels bad, feels silly for not recognizing how invasive that question is. However, before she can apologize, Cam is the one to speak up.

Shrugging, her smile is tight and undeniably sad as she says so simply, “demons are hard to kill.”

And just like that, Solana has never related to something more.

Feeling overcome with an almost duty to share, her eyes drop to her arms, the intricate outlines of butterflies camouflaging the scars that will never fully go away. “I get that……I really do.”

Looking up, Solana feels the set of understanding gazes on her, instantly knowing without any of them needing to share specifics that they just get it. They understand the specific and tragic ways one can end up in a place like this, oftentimes due to demons beyond their slaughtering capabilities. 

Mickey clears her throat, gesturing to Solana’s arm. “You’re really good.”

She glances down at her still unfinished art, a small smile falling on her face. “Thank you.” An idea crosses her mind as she notices each of them attempted to follow through on the assignment as well but clearly struggled. “I can—I can help, if you want?” 

Cam gasps, obviously excited by the idea of it. “Really?”

Solana’s smile grows as she explains, “I—I love art.”

Mickey squeals almost and pulls out a black sharpie from her bra, shrugging with a playful smile. 

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

“You’re quiet today.” Gail’s assessment continues as she asks in a gentle voice, “are you nervous?”

Nervous is an understatement. Solana fidgets on the sofa, running her hands down her sweats. “I—I haven’t seen or spoken to him since….you know.”

Gail presses her lips together, nodding. “You don’t know what to expect.”

Solana nods, eyes starting to water. “I don’t—I don’t want him to be upset with me.” 

It’s officially been a week since Solana has been admitted into the psychiatric ward. An interesting experience, to say the least. She’s made enemies, made ‘friends’, worked through and started to process with a professional so much of her trauma, and more. And while her longing for seeing and speaking to her husband has only continued to grow by the day. The day finally being here where she’s allowed a visitor, where he will come to see her this evening feels almost….it feels too soon.

She’s just so nervous, unsure of what that reunion is going to look like. 

Gail sees the thoughts brewing in her client’s head as she asks in an attempt to redirect, “are you responsible for his emotions?”

“No, but….but I—” When she struggles to get out a coherent response, Gail presents a thought provoking question.

“Solana, based upon what you know about Roman, what’s more likely? That he’ll be upset with you or that he’ll just be happy that you’re alive?”

It’s such a good question, one that has the emotion bubbling in the back of her throat, emotion she shows as silent tears begin to fall. “I—I want him to be happy, but…..”

“You’re still struggling with feeling like a burden to him….” It’s an assessment by her therapist that is wholly correct, but one Solana can’t verbally comment on, only offering her agreement with a silent head nod. “Do you remember the exercise we did a couple of sessions ago about faulty thinking? About the ways your trauma influences your thinking.” 

Solana reflects back on that session, so heavy yet so helpful. It provided her such insight on just how deeply her experiences have painted her view of so much. Of everything, really. Including how she so lowly views herself sometimes. 

“I want you to think about that and compare it to the thoughts that you’re having now……where are they coming from?”

Solana closes her eyes and blows out a breath. “My…my fear.”

“And if your fear was a living, breathing entity sitting opposite beside you right now, how would you combat it? Think about the cognitive challenging we discussed.”

Keeping her eyes shut, Solana travels back to that session, utilizing the skills and tips and knowledge she’s learned since her admission.

She takes an ‘efficient breath’, as Gail calls them. “I’d tell my fear that….that you don’t get to control me anymore.”

Gail smiles softly, gently encouraging the young woman to continue. “What else?”

Silent tears continue to fall, but Solana’s voice remains firm and unwavering. “And that….that Roman cares about me and just wants me to be okay and….and get better.”

Gail hasn’t felt so proud and pleased with a client’s response to the empty chair exercise in quite a while. “Exactly.” She sits back in her own chair, jotting down some notes. “Can I ask what you’re feeling right now?”

Solana finally opens her eyes and wipes at her eyes, scoffing quietly. “A…a little better, actually.” She motions to her chest. “It doesn’t….it doesn’t feel as heavy.”

“Good.” Gail makes note of this and starts to ask a follow up processing question when Solana’s soft voice beats her to it.

“Can…..can I talk about something with you?”

Gail’s grin is warm and welcoming as she offers genuine assurance. “Solana, there’s nothing we can’t discuss here.” She’s pleased to see Solana’s smile grow at this reassurance. “What would you like to talk about?”

Feeling on the spot all of a sudden, despite being the one who initiated the conversation, Solana does her best to manage and push through her anxiety. “I—I’ve been….I’ve been having dreams since I got here.”

Gail is mindful of her expression as she asks in a soft voice, “dreams or…..”

Sensing what she’s asking, Solana quickly shakes her head. “No. Not those. Not nightmares. They….they really are dreams. Good dreams, I—I think.”

Studying her, Gail assesses. “You seem unsure.” 

Deciding to bite the bullet, Solana shares in a low voice, “they’re dreams of me in the future…..as….as a mother.”

Gail nods. “I see.” She makes note of one of Solana’s nonverbals. “You’re smiling right now.”

Sniffling, Solana continues to share and exhibit so much vulnerability, most of which is solely because of how safe and non-judged Gail has made her feel. “In the dreams, we have three kids. Twin girls and a baby boy.” She wipes at her nose and swallows deeply. “I—I want to be a mom someday, but I don’t….I don’t want to be a bad mom.”

If these dreams have shown her anything, it’s that she wants more than anything to be a positive influence in her future child, or children's, lives. She doesn’t want to cause them even a fraction of the parental trauma she’s experienced. 

And deep down, Solana knows that she’s absolutely nothing like her father.

But, she knows she’s very much been deeply impacted by her fathers’ abuse. By all of her trauma. And the last thing she wants is for any of that to negatively influence her children. 

“Solana, what makes you think you could ever be a bad mother?” She shrugs, shutting down a bit. Gail sighs lowly, offering words of affirmation and support. “You are not a bad person. You are not a broken person. Not a damaged person. Just a person who’s been dealt some not so  great cards, but you’re here, working on these things. Working on becoming a healthier version of yourself.” Gail chuckles, pointing out, “that doesn’t sound like a bad future mother to me.”

Really sitting on the words of encouragement and doing her best to not let the self-doubt creep in, Solana asks in a voice barely above a whisper, “do you….do you really think I could be a good mother?”

Gail’s response is almost immediate, not a thought to be had as she answers honestly, “Solana, I think you could be a damn good mother.” 

Solana laughs, emotion seeping in as she nods, utterly grateful for such kind words. “Thank….thank you. That….that means a lot to me.”

“Of course.” Gail would like to process this more, maybe get into some additional trauma work, but there’s another important thing on her agenda for this session. “Solana, as you know, your hold will be up exactly one week from now, meaning you’ll be officially discharged and allowed to return home.”

Solana eyes lighten up at that, an expected reaction as Gail gently slides into a deeper conversation pertaining to her release. “But, there’s something I would like to speak to you about.”

________

Roman doesn’t think twice as he walks into the room that’s suspiciously quiet to be located in a hospital, decorated just as one would expect a therapist’s office to look. He only briefly takes a look around before plopping his big body down on the sofa. 

He didn’t even pay any attention to the fact that Gail was attempting to extend an olive branch, offering a handshake that he so rudely ignored, clearly ready to get this over with.

She keeps her togetherness, offering a verbal introduction. “Thank you for com—”

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

Gail makes a face, pressing her lips together as she chuckles quietly. “Of course.”

“Then get to it.” Roman is quick with the demands, asking, “how is she doing?”

Gail offers a tight smile. “I’m Gail Kim, the therapist on staff who’s been handling Solana’s individual therapy sessions.”

“Did I ask you who you were?” His stare is cold and uninterested. “I asked you how she’s doing.”

Sighing, Gail refers to the tablet on her lap, opening up the notes she’s happy that she prepared ahead of time. This is going exactly as she predicted it would. “Your wife is no longer endorsing suicidal ideation which means she’s denying any thoughts and plans to take her life, which is significant progress considering it’s only been a week—”

There’s a hint of hopefulness in both his expression and voice as he asks, “so, she’s ready to come home?”

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

The previous hopefulness melts into something cold and harsh. Roman is visibly and understandably irritated. “You just said she’s not suicidal anymore.”

“Yes, but it’s not that simple. Solana is….she’s an interesting case. Her trauma history is significant. Though she seems to be on the way to stabilization, there’s still a lot of work that needs to be done. She needs continued professional help.”

“Isn’t that why she’s here with you?” His tone is cruel and condescending. “If you’re too fucking incompetent to help her, let me take her home, so I can.”

Gail bites the inside of her cheek. If this was anyone else, she would set them straight on the importance of mutual respect. But, this isn’t just anyone. This is Roman Reigns, and she’s well aware of the fact that one wrong statement or sign of disrespect could very well end her life, so she does her best to remain calm and professional. And she tries an alternative approach. 

“You know, one of the exercises she did in an individual session asks about what safe spaces she has, sources of support and whatnot. And you know what she put down for almost every answer?” Gail gives a small, closed mouth smile. “You.” Well trained in reading nonverbals, she picks up on the brief giveaway sign of emotion that flashes in Roman’s eyes at this. “She put down that you are her number one reason for wanting to live.” 

There’s a good minute of silence before Roman asks in an uncharacteristically low voice. “So why did she do it?”

Gail's smile shifts into a solemn frown. “I’ll leave that discussion to the two of you. She’s expressed wanting to talk with you about that directly.”

“I’m asking you.”

Gail leans back in her chair and goes a different route. “It’s okay to be upset with her. To be angry at her. To be angry at and blame yourself.” Gail catches just a glimpse of surprise in his eyes at the last part. “To actually feel your feelings.”

Roman, however, is uninterested in any of this. Offended even. “Why the hell would I be angry at her?”

“Why wouldn’t you be? She tried to leave you. That’s essentially what suicide is. Escapism. It provides the patient with the peace they’re looking for but leaves the loved ones left behind with a world of questions and emotions.” She explains, mindful of her tone and voice. “Two truths can exist in the same universe. You can be happy she wasn’t successful and still angry at her for trying in the first place.”

Roman is quiet for a good two minutes, Gail wondering if she should transition to another topic when he breaks said silence in that same low voice. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t call me. I told her to tell me if…..if those thoughts ever returned.”

“But she didn’t…..” Gail’s voice softens as she adds, almost empathetically. “I think you’ll find talking with her will give you some of the answers you’re looking for. But, they truly should come from her.”

Roman won’t push. He wants to, but won’t. If this is something Solana wants to discuss with him herself, he’ll respect that. So long as it’s not triggering to her, which it seems, surprisingly, it’s not. 

Gail clears her throat and transitions to the next section. “Dr. Stratus started her on a medication regimen of Sertraline, 50mg and Wellbutrin, 100mg, once a day in the morning as well as Hydroxyzine, PRN, which means as needed. The Sertraline and Wellbutrin are antidepressants, and Hydroxyzine can be taken when she starts to feel overwhelmed or triggered. So far, she’s responding well, though it typically takes 4 to 6 weeks for patients to truly notice the full benefits.” 

Roman nods, as Gina or whatever her name is, continues to explain what’s otherwise obvious. 

“We’ve been administering her medication and given how she attempted to take her life, Dr. Stratus and I strongly advise that you or someone else take over that administration upon her discharge—”

“Do you honestly think I’m stupid enough to allow her to have unmonitored access to pills again?” Roman doesn’t even try, not that he was before, to hide his frustration and irritation. She’s acting like he’s stupid. His degrees may be in business, but one doesn’t need to have a degree in behavioral health to know thatyou don’t give a formerly suicidal person free access to the same method they used to take their life. 

Gail, however, decides to not feed into it. “You know, anger is sometimes just anger. Just people mad as hell. But sometimes….sometimes it’s what we call a blanket emotion, meaning there are other feelings hiding beneath it, being presented as anger.”

Roma sits forward. “Just what the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

“Nothing at all, Mr. Reigns.” A small smile falls on her face, and that only pisses him off even more. Is this bitch trying to patronize him or something? “But, you should know that we offer support for spouses and loved ones like yourself who are supporting—”

“The only thing I need for you to do is to help my wife, so I can get her the hell out of this place and home where she belongs.”

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

“I want to show you something.” She stands up from her chair, moving to her desk as she pulls out a key to unlock the drawer. “Solana signed a full release authorizing us to share all details regarding her care with you. But, there are some things she’s explicitly expressed you not being okay with knowing and seeing. This is not one of them. And I think you would find it interesting….”

If not for the fact that the therapist already made it clear that safety concerns and suicidality are exceptions to confidentiality, Roman would be concerned, wondering just what exactly Solana doesn’t want him to know.

But something tells him she’s perhaps opened up in therapy about specifics regarding her trauma more than she has with him, and if that’s the case, his only hope is that this woman knows what she’s doing and doesn’t trigger Solana further.

She walks back over, handing him a set of sheets. Roman takes them, immediately noticing the handwriting. 

Solana’s handwriting. 

He gets to reading the bolded question that each has answers of varying length.

Who is your safe person? What makes this person safe?

My husband. He’s the first man in my life to not hurt me. The first man I’ve ever trusted.

On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you trust this person with 1 being none and 10 being absolute trust?

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

He’s patient with me and listens to me and makes me feel beautiful.

How does this person serve as a member of your support system?

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

How long have you experienced thoughts/urges/practices of self-harming behavior including suicidal ideation and/or attempts?

The first time I felt like I didn't want to be alive anymore was when I was ten. I woke up from my coma and realized my mother was dead. I just wanted to be with her. But it’s my brother constantly telling me I should kill myself after my mom’s murder that made me seriously think about doing it. 

He would tell me that it should have been me who died, and I should just kill myself because no one wanted me.

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

Has there been a point in time where you have not had these thoughts/urges?

Yes. For the past four months. 

If you answered yes to the previous question, what caused or contributed to the cessation of these thoughts/urges?

I met my husband. I had real friends for the first time. I found myself having a real family for the first time in a long time. 

I was happy.

Prior to this gap, when was the last time you experienced any of these thoughts? What triggered them?

The day of my wedding. This was before I got to know my husband. I was scared he was going to beat me like my dad and brother.

What happened to re-trigger you? If uncomfortable sharing, list the emotions you felt during this episode. 

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

Do you remember what thoughts you were experiencing before the suicidal and self-harming ideation returned? What were they?

I couldn’t stop thinking about my rape and my mother’s murder. It was like I was reliving them over and over again, and I couldn’t get the memories and flashbacks to stop. It felt like all my progress was reversed, and I’d have to start over, and I didn’t want to put my husband and family through that, as they’re the reason I even started to heal.

I just didn’t want to be in pain anymore, and I thought everyone would be happier if I was dead. I didn’t want to be a burden to my husband.

Looking back and reflecting on your thoughts, have they changed? And if so, how?

I don’t want to die. I still don’t feel as good as I was feeling before I found out the truth, but I’m not thinking or wanting to kill myself anymore. I still have a lot of things I want to do. I’m not ready to be done here. Just want to get better.

 Do you wish you would have done something different? What could you have done differently?

Yes.

Called my husband. 

Can you identify at least one reason your life is worth living?

Roman 

Roman has oscillated through so many different emotions reading through this worksheet from beginning to end. Anger seems like the dominant emotion, his jaw clenching as he learns how close to the paternal tree Solana’s bitch brother remained..

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

And Roman is determined to find even more, additional ways to make that fucker suffer the way he made Solana suffer for so many years.

He’s also livid and something else unknown that on a day that should have been special for her, she was considering taking her own life.

And he hates himself for putting her in that position in the first place. He was the one who wanted to speed everything up, not even considering how traumatic that process could have been for her. 

But he especially doesn’t know how to feel reading just how highly Solana views and feels about him. She hasn’t been very quiet regarding how much she cares about him, but reading her words, her writing, her honesty, it makes him aware of just how much she cares. 

“You mean a lot to her. And her healing and progress moving forward will require your support.” Gail cuts in, voice calm and almost soothing. “One of the things I ask clients all the time is who their support system is and is there anything else they need from this person or persons….she couldn’t tell me a single thing she needs from you that you don’t already give her.” Roman says nothing, not even offering a nonverbal gesture or movement for her to analyze. Thus, Gail continues, reviewing her notes of topics she wanted to touch on with him prior to his seeing Solana in a few hours. “Now, I will say, Solana does exhibit strong codependent tendencies. Specifically with you. She’s extremely attached to you, and while that should probably be addressed at some point, her stabilization is the priority.”

Roman doesn’t pay much, or any, mind to that last part. He doesn’t care what this woman says. Whatever Solana needs, she’ll get. 

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

But, he’s certain what he’s feeling in his fucking stomach is some level of nerves.

And he hates that shit.

Cause why the fuck is he at his grown age feeling anxious about seeing his wife? Perhaps it’s the fact that it’ll be the first time in a week that he’s actually laid eyes on her, seeing her not lying unconscious in a hospital bed. That he’ll be able to have her big brown eyes focused on him. Hear the sound of her voice, so soft and light.

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

He decides to pull out his phone as a distraction while security escorts her to him in the visitors section, remembering a text from Paul that he should probably respond to. Not that he wants to, but it’s better standing here feeling fucking stupid and—

“Roman…”

He wasn’t sure just sure how he would respond or react or even feel seeing her for the first time in a week, but Solana is barely able to get his name out of his mouth when Roman snaps his head up from the phone in his hand to the direction of which the voice came. 

It happens a bit too fast for him to even process. The rise and easy falter of her smile, the gloss of her eyes, the tiny scoff of disbelief that leaves her mouth before she’s running toward him.  Roman wastes not a single fucking second to pick her up the minute she throws her body against him. And just like that, almost every trace of irritation, of vexation, of anger melts away.

Roman’s eyes shut as he holds her close against him, noticing how tightly she’s holding him back. 

Her voice cracks followed by a sniffle as she murmurs against his shoulder. “I’ve missed you….”

For a brief second, he’s angry again. Angry because has she been asking for him? And if so, why was he not informed? Stratus has been texting him frequent general updates. That she’s been consistently opening up in individual therapy, not as open in group sessions, often writes and draws during their designated free time, etc.

But nothing about her asking for him. 

He makes a mental note to ask Stratus about that shit, but not now. Now, his focus is entirely focused on the woman in his arms.

“I missed you too.” Saying he missed her feels like an understatement. Roman has been fucking miserable without her around, but what good would it serve her to share as such? So, he keeps it simple but still accurate.

He ignores the small part of him that dislikes when she finally pulls away, but that dissatisfaction is easily shoved to the side when he sees her eyes watering. “I’m so sorry. I—I didn't mean. I just—”

Roman’s focus is now solely honed in on stopping her from crying. He can’t see her upset. Not after what happened. He moves his hands to her face, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears. “Let’s talk, okay?”

She nods, stepping back, forcing his hands to drop but easily sliding her hand into one of his as she leads them in the direction from where she came. Roman won’t lie. He’s not paying attention to much in passing. Just her. It’s like there’s a blurred lens on them, distorting everything around them except his wife.

And he has zero issues with this. 

He has zero issues until they’re walking past a group of three women who seem to notice that Solana is crying and stop her, the one who almost looks like she could be Hispanic asks Solana, “are you alright?”

Who the fuck is this? Roman would most definitely ask as such as well as tell her to stay out of their damn business if not for the fact that Solana answers almost reassuringly. 

“Yes, of course.” 

To make matters worse, this irritating ass stranger has the audacity to almost send a suspicious damn near glare his way. Just who the fuck does she think she is? 

The woman on her right suddenly asks, her quiet voice strangely reminding him of Solana. Right off the bat, he can see they have similar demeanors. “You’re still joining us for breakfast, right?”

Solana answers right away, shaking her head. “Of course.”

Joining for breakfast? What the fuck is this? A psychiatric ward or summer camp?

The women all seem to give Solana that ‘call us if you need anything’ nod before finally leaving him alone with his wife. Roman has to keep his sigh to himself.

Only Solana would make ‘friends’ at a damn hospital.

She finally leads him into what he would guess is her ‘room.’ He’s instantly not impressed and annoyed because he directly instructed Stratus to make sure she had the best this place has to offer.

This clearly ain’t it. He adds it to his list of complaints to bring up to the psychiatrist. He’s also annoyed by the ‘sheet’ that serves at the door, irritated that they won’t have total privacy. But, he understands. It’s a psychiatric ward. Not the Four Seasons. 

Roman allows Solana to guide him over to her bed where she motions for him to sit down. He does as such, partially surprised when she climbs onto his lap, legs on either side. He doesn’t protest though, simply holds her by his hips as he shifts so that his back against the wall. 

Solana, however, keeps her head down, her hands scrunching the bottom of his shirt as she seems to force out, “I don’t want to talk about this—”

That’s an easy thing, Roman quickly moving to remind her of her autonomy. “Then don’t—”

She cuts him off. “But, I need to.” She finally lifts her gaze, and my God, he’s missed staring into those pretty eyes, seeing her pretty face. “I can’t—I won’t avoid it.” She takes a deep breath, asking, “what do you want to know?”

He’s partially surprised by how direct she’s being, but in his defense, the last time he spoke to her directly, she was in such a different place. A much darker place.

That doesn’t seem to be the case anymore, but he knows looks can be deceiving, so he remains cautious. His voice is surprisingly gentle, as he answers, “I think you already know the answer to that, Sol.”

Her eyes shut again, and he can’t tell if it’s because of his use of his nickname for her or the emotionality of it all. 

Both, probably. 

She brings her gaze back on him, and he hates seeing the emotion building back up. Logically, he knows that there’s no way to have this kind of conversation and emotion not be present. Doesn’t mean he has to like it though. “I just….I couldn’t think straight that night, Roman. I just kept reliving every bad thing that’s happened to me but now with the knowledge that it was my own father that was responsible. And I just….I couldn't handle it.”

This is the part he can barely handle. The knowing of the role, a large role, he played in what landed her here. He feels like shit about it and prepares to take ownership when she continues. 

“And I thought….I felt like….I felt like all the progress I had made was now gone and that I’d have to start over, and I just—-I couldn’t fathom going through all that again.” She swallows, tears starting to fall. “I felt like I would just be a burden to you and that….it would just be easier for you if I was dead.”

Gutted. Reading it was one thing, but hearing it is an entirely different experience. To know this is truly how she felt, the thought process that led to her making the decision she made. The most likely reason she didn’t call him.

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

She drops her head, and he moves his hands back to her face. “Solana, look at me.” When she continues to keep her head down, he repeats himself, voice still low and gentle. “Look at me.” She seems to hesitate but follows through, Roman hating how devastated she looks. “Nothing about my life would be easier without you in it. You are never a burden to me. You never have been, and you never will be. I want to help you. Listen to you. Whatever it is you need, I’ll do. I just need you to tell me.” This time, he’s the one swallowing back unfamiliar and uncomfortable emotions. “I just need you to not leave me, alright?” She seems slightly taken back by his honesty and vulnerability. Truthfully, so is he. It was one thing to be so honest with her while she was unconscious, but it’s another when she sits before him, aware and conscious and hanging onto every word. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your father. I should have—”

“No. Please—please don’t.” She shakes her head, interrupting him with that same small voice. “I’m glad you didn’t.” The ‘shocked’ ball is back in his court as she explains, “I don’t….I don’t think I would have ever wanted to know the truth. It’s….it’s been too hard to have to deal with that.” 

Clearly. He can’t even begin to imagine what that’s like for her. To be stuck with the knowledge that her own flesh and blood could be so cruel, so hateful, so evil as to do what Xavier has done to his own daughter.

“The therapy has….it’s helped.” He believes it. Roman has noticed the sheets of paper that have positive affirmations and what he would guess are coping skills taped to the wall opposite her bed. She cracks a small, sad smile. “It’s….it’s been good for me.”

He believes that, too. He can see that. There’s a stark difference in her appearance, even with her being emotional as she is with the conversation at hand. She doesn’t look as fractured as the last time he saw her.

She looks stronger. Happier, even. It makes his chest swell with yet another unfamiliar sentiment.

Love, perhaps?

Just thinking about it has Roman clearing his throat, needing to focus on something other than that right now. “Have they been treating you okay?” This has been pretty high up, if not the highest, thing on his priority list.

She nods, Roman noticing and grateful that her tears are starting to dry up. “Yes. I….how many Bloodline men do you have here?”

“Enough.” She doesn’t need to know the full extent of just how above and beyond he went to ensure no one on staff at this hospital could be questionable about their intentions towards her. “I’m always gonna look out for you, baby. Always.”

Her eyes shut, not from feeling overwhelmed but something else. Something that seems less heavy and more comforting. 

Solana moves around on top of him, Roman somehow sensing what she’s trying to do, and he has zero hesitations.

He shifts his body, so he’s laying on her bed, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, but it makes no difference to him as soon as she lays on top of him, her head cradled in his neck, her arms around him.’

“I’ve missed you.” Her arm laid against him, Roman reading to close his eyes when he catches onto something for the first time. He doesn’t know he missed it either, because it stands out. Roman gently takes her arm, turning it over.

On her inner forearm are a set of beautifully drawn butterflies of various sizes and colors, the largest being a dark blue color and the smaller one next to it, different shades of red and pinks. There are three much smaller butterflies under the two larger ones, two of them pink and the smallest also that same dark blue.

She looks up at him, offering a small smile. “It’s something they have us do in group therapy. They call it The Butterfly Project.” She shifts her body to show him her other forearm, revealing additional butterflies before she lays back down as she was. “You draw butterflies that represent the people in your life you care about and every time…you think of wanting to self-harm, you remember that you’re killing the butterflies. It’s like….like a reminder that people care about you.”

It’s an interesting concept, and judging by the emotion in her voice, a concept she resonates with deeply. Roman’s long index finger ghosts over the larger blue one as he asks, “who is this one for?” 

Solana’s smile deepens. “You.” He’s grateful that she continues to explain so he doesn't have to think much about that sentiment very similar to love that comes up at that admission. “And this one,” she gestures to the pink and red one. “--is me. My future self.” 

That doesn’t help the building emotion, so he again goes for distraction, motioning to the remaining three, asking, “and those?”

She swallows, something flashing in her eyes he can’t identify, answering gently, “I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

Her answer confuses him. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he doesn’t want to push her either. 

“How is Dulce?” She asks suddenly, the sadness in her voice returning.

Roman won’t tell her the way her puppy sometimes sits by the front door around the time she usually gets home from work or the way she whimpers at night every so often, clearly missing her owner. He’ll spare her that, offering only a morsel of the truth. 

“The usual. Sleeping most of the day. You can tell she misses you.” 

Solana frowns. “I miss her too.” She licks her lips, asking almost nervously, “how are Bay—”

Roman is quick to shut that down, a hint of harshness in his voice. “I don’t want to talk about them.”

Truth be told, he’s not sure if he’ll ever be able to look or view them the same ever again. It may be a bit irrational and unfair, but it’s how he feels. And truthfully speaking, he’s got ten million other things on his mind and in his heart he’s trying to sort through. 

“Roman…..” Solana sits up a bit, and he’s taken back for a second by how fucking beautiful she is. Even with the sadness in her eyes. “It wasn’t their fa—”

“Not now, Sol.” His tone takes on a gentler tone as he adds on, for good measure, “please. I just want to enjoy you.”

He knows she’ll bring it up again. She cares too much about the two women who Roman will never trust her with again to just let it go permanently. “Okay.” She lays herself back down on top of him, and Roman kisses the top of her head.

“How are you?”

He’s not quite sure why her question surprises him. But, the answer is an automatic, “fine.”

He’s far from fine, but she doesn't need to know that.

Again, Solana sits up, that frown almost deepening. “Are you sleeping?” She reaches over and caresses his beard. “You look tired. H–have you been taking your medicine?”

Roman is truly dumbfounded. She is the one who is currently a legally mandated patient in a psychiatric ward because she was actively suicidal only a week ago, and yet, she’s laying here worried about him. 

Roman has to push back that love feeling that’s returning. 

“I keep telling you not to worry about me,” he reminds, once again wanting and almost needing to stress to her that worrying about him should be the last thing on her plate.. “I just want you to focus on yourself.”

Her retort surprises him, bold and almost uncharacteristic of her. “And I keep telling you that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Roman chuckles, commenting, “you’re becoming more outspoken….”

She gives him a small smile. “I told you the therapy has been helping.”

Roman scoffs. She’s right. Maybe that Gemma woman does know what she’s doing. 

“Do you need anything?”

Solana says nothing, just lays back down against him, her hand moving over his chest, resting on his heart. “Just you.” She must glance at the clock on the wall as she comments, “we only have 40 minutes left….”

He knows she’s referring to the one hour time block allotted for visitors. Something he absolutely couldn't give two shits about. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.“ He’d stay the whole night if that was what she wanted. 

“Roman….” It’s funny how he already knows what she’s going to say. “The rules—”

His interruption is sharp, but it’s not aimed towards her. And she knows that. “I don’t give a fuck about rules when it comes to you.” She sighs into his chest, offering no protest, saying nothing else.

Conversation is intermittent over the next two or so hours, Solana eventually falling asleep on top of him. He doesn’t mind. As much as he enjoys talking to her, having her body on top of his is an easy, acceptable alternative.

He’s missed this. Missed being with and around her. Roman is just now realizing just how much he benefits from having her around. He’s been a complete nightmare for everyone around him outside of Dulce, even more temperamental than his usual default setting.

But the minute he laid eyes on her, saw her innocent smile, had her in his arms, everything suddenly felt so better.

That’s what she does for him. What she is for him. 

Medicine. 

An antidote. Something he never knew he was missing until he met her. It seems like it was almost impossible for him to not fall in love with her. 

Love….

Thinking about it again brings a frown to his handsome face, forcing him to face a reality that’s so easy to escape when he’s with her.

Roman may love Solana, but….he can never act on it. Not really. Can never tell her he loves her. That makes it official. That confirms that he finally has something his enemies can use against him, a distraction, a weakness.

Loving her openly would make him vulnerable, would put her at risk, and he couldn’t do that. Not just for himself but most definitely not to her. 

To be with her like this, open and vulnerable, behind closed doors is one thing. It’s an entirely different ballpark though to make that visible and public, even with just telling her.

Feeling her stir against him, Roman kisses the top of her head, tugging her closer. 

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

He’s just going to have to find someway to push that down, tuck it away for safekeeping.

It’s just better that way. 

________

Roman stays for about two hours, Solana waking up and reluctantly expressing her okayness with him leaving. It’s not what she wants, definitely not what he wants, but it’s what’s necessary.

If even for the fact that Dulce can’t be left alone for too long.  

Solana holds onto his arm as she walks him out, Bautista not too far behind to escort her back to her room.

But, it’s when he turns to tell her bye, Roman about to ask her when she wants him to come see her again (fuck visting days), she surprises him by reaching behind her back and pulling out a sealed envelope. 

Brows furrowed, Roman is curious just how the hell he missed that when she presses it against his chest. “Promise me you won’t read it until you get home.” 

Now he’s extremely confused. It’s been a while since Solana has written to thim. They’ve progressed way past that, and it does concern him a bit that she didn’t just talk to him about whatever lies between the lines of this letter. 

But, he also knows she’s been working hard in therapy and even in being able to open up to him about what happened that night had to have been a lot for her, so he won’t push it and will respect it.

Accepting the letter, he simply says, “okay.”

She offers a close mouthed smile, a sign of appreciation and moves to hug him once more, mumbling something in Spanish against his chest that he can’t make out. When she pulls back, he doesn’t hesitate to cup her cheek, reiterating, “you need anything, you let me know, alright?” They’d already briefly discussed how she had picked up on the fact that he had his men stationed strategically all over this place, and any of them were able to get a message to him. 

She nods, repeating to him, “okay.” Solana tugs on his shirt and leans up to kiss his cheek, murmuring against his ear, “bye, Roman.”

It seems saying goodbye is difficult for her just as much as it is for him, Roman unable to reciprocate it, only letting his gaze follow her retreating form until Bautista gives him a nod and closes the door behind them. 

He stands there for a good minute or two before actually leaving.

Fuck. Leaving her seems to be getting harder and harder. 

Roman is barely in the SUV, door not even shut when his long fingers are moving with all the determination to open up the envelope. He unfolds the piece of paper, unsurprised to find her neat handwriting. 

Roman,

I need to ask you to do something for me, but I need you to please hear me out before you settle on an answer. And please know I wouldn’t be asking this of you if I didn’t believe it’s something I really need. 

I’m so sorry for putting you through this. I never want to cause you any stress or create any problems for you. 

I wasn’t in a good place, and this experience has made me realize there’s still a lot of parts of me that still need to heal. I still have a lot to work through. 

That’s why I’m asking.

Gail mentioned a treatment facility she runs about an hour away. It’s a 6 week program for women coming out of the hospital like I will be. 

Roman, I think I should go. 

I don’t think I should come home just yet.

I don’t feel ready. I’m not having those thoughts or urges anymore, but there’s still things I think I need to work through. I don’t ever want to put you through something like this again. I don’t ever want to end up back here again, but the only way I can do that is by making sure I’m good before I leave.

And I don’t know if another week can do that. 

I miss you. So much. It’s been hard being away from you and Dulce and everyone else. But, I feel like I have to do this. I need to do this. 

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

BTW, I’m saying ‘I love you very much’ in Spanish. 

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

And I don’t need you to say it back or feel the same. With what you’ve been through, I’d never expect or ask that of you.

I just need you. Your continued support. That’s all. That’s enough.

With all my love,

Solana

________

“I’m so sick of your bloody fuckin’ shit, Seth! It’s the same fuckin’ thing over and over again, and I’m done!” 

The cadence, melody, and even tone of his wife’s rant serves as the perfect resources for Seth who is lazily sprawled out across their sofa, beer in one hand, the other hand moving as if conducting an orchestra. 

And he is.

Because this has become a song and dance with his fiery tempered, Irish wife.

Seconds later, she’s practically stomping in the living room, their daughter in hand who is most definitely old enough to remember this little spat. He cackles to himself. How unfortunate.

However, Becky’s enraged gaze is focused on him, disgust plastered all over. “Were you even listenin’ to me?”

He makes a sound, unbothered eyes falling on her, that infamous smile growing. “Of course, dear.”

Becky, however, knows better. Has been with this man long enough to know better. And she’s done. “Ya know, I thought you were getting better, yeah? But then that bloke Breaker comes over here looking for you, and I—” Becky cuts herself off, refusing to start yelling with her daughter in her arms. Her accent is even thicker, as she shares while adjusting the bag on her other shoulder, “I’m gonna go stay with Charlotte til’ I can figure out just what I’m gonna do.”

What she’s not saying is that she’ll stay with her closest American friend until she can find the funds and resources to move back home. 

She’s just done.

Seth, however, seems unconcerned by the fact that she’s leaving with their kid. “Okay, dear.” He snorts, falling into that all too familiar maniacal laugh. The one that typically accompanies the reckless and dangerous behavior that has her packed and ready to go. It was one thing when it was just the two of them, but with a child now, Becky has a responsibility to keep her daughter safe.

And there is nothing safe about her husband rekindling ties with the Nightmare Factory.

Not wanting him to see the pending tears, Becky kisses her daughter’s cheek and heads for the door, not allowing herself to hesitate as she rips it open only for her jaw to drop.

She scoffs. Unbelievable. With even more support for her decision to leave, Becky looks over her shoulder at her husband who climbs to his feet. “First the Nightmare Factory, and now the fuckin’ Bloodline?” She shakes her head. “Yeah, you dig your own fuckin’ grave, Seth.” 

And with that, she moves past the figures, determined to not look back this time.

Meanwhile, a massive smile grows on Seth’s unshaven face, delight dancing in his dark eyes.

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

He practically stumbles over but manages to stand firm as he takes a swig of his beer, burping loudly and then asking with all of the excitement, evil smile on his face.

“How can I help you?”

[chlorinecake]

🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【 薄幸な恋人 】 ⛦

summ✩ry While collabing with your girl group and Enhypen for a special stage, forbidden feelings spark between you and the main dancer upon dorming together

p✩iring idol!niki x popstar!reader ✩ requested ✩

-> PART 2 HERE

genre band au, fluff, secret romance cw swearing, mild bullying, the word ‘sexy’ like once, kissing, girl drama, reader is younger than Niki wc 4.4k

“Ugh,” Serenity groaned as the hairstylist applied yet another thick layer of chocolate brown hair dye to her scalp.

“This gig better bring in some serious bank, because never in my life would I willingly collab with those overrated wannabes,” she exclaimed, taking a frustrated sip from her vanilla latte.

“Hey, people used to call us wannabe's, too, you know,” Haerin said quietly as she tucked her hands under the UV light.

“Yeah, you should be more mature about this, Serenity... like I always say, professionalism triumphs pride," you added, only half-engaged in the conversation as a certain online article caught your attention.

As the band leader, you were always in charge of everything, so Serenity and Haerin were used to you talking to them this way...

“I’m just glad that we're getting exposure,” Haerin smiled, thinking of the countless nights you and your group spent practicing routines and writing songs for auditions, "it's not often that artists like us get opportunity's to perform internationally."

“For real,” Serenity cheered, “Riot Grrlz for the win!”

The three of you put your hands out to make a circle, “Riot Grrlz for life,” Haerin exclaimed, forgetting that her nails hadn't fully dried yet.

"Whoops," she giggled, just as Jade, the oldest of your group, made her way from the bathroom.

“What took you so long in there?” Serenity asked cheekily, “I thought we were gonna have to call the fire department.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Jade returned, taking a seat beside Haerin so she could get her nails done, too.

“You were talking to the enemy, weren’t you,” Serenity accused.

“No, Ren, I didn’t go behind your back and sell my soul to the devil for fame.”

“Not that enemy,” Serenity grinned, “I'm talking about Mr. Six Foot Moon Eyes.”

“Oooooo,” Haerin amused, pulling your attention away from your phone.

“Ugh, let it up guys. My crush on Sunghoon is long gone, especially now that we’re gonna be working together. Besides, I would never act so recklessly over romance.”

“Who said anything about reckless romance,” you teased, unintentionally giving Jade a full view of the article your were reading on your phone.

"Nobody,” she began, “but I’m surprised you even heard that over all your internet-stalking.”

You were scrolling through a K-Pop news feed when you came across a post.

It was titled: "Enhypen Rumored By Netizens To Be Collabing With THIS Rookie Western Girl Group."

"Shush," you whisper-yelled at Jade, "unless you’re trying to get our record deals pulled!"

Just last week, your management team made you and your group sign a contract of secrecy, swearing silence regarding unpublicized business projects and associations: this included your upcoming collab with Enhypen that Jade nearly just spoiled.

Although, in all honesty, the blog's use of the word "rookie" bothered you more than potentially breaking any contract rules.

"Relax, boss, it's practically a ghost town in here," Jade defended, drawing your attention to the near vacant salon space.

Ding.

It was an email from your manager.

He wanted to inform you all that your chauffeur would be ready around 2:45am to bring you guys to the airport.

"Jeez," you mumbled to yourself, "looks like I'm not getting much sleep tonight."

“Shit,” Serenity whined, “I haven’t even made enough time to brush up on my Korean yet!”

“Luckily me and Haerin here are bilingual baddies,” Jade giggled, giving the cat-eyed girl a fist punch.

“Ahh, watch my nails!!”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Your company's fashion crew was experimenting with different concepts, assigning each of your members an individual color to permanently represent: Serenity was teal, Jade was purple, Haerin was white, and you were pink.

Some time passed, an you and your group arrived in South Korea around 3:00pm.

Thanks to the fashion tech your management team hired, it wasn't obvious that you and the girls had been in and out of sleep for the past 13 hours.

You couldn't help but stalk the headlines about your group, as rumors about your Enhypen collab continued to spread like wildfire.

So much for swearing silence and secrecy, you thought to yourself.

South Korean pop media had already seemed to build a vendetta against your group, given that you were young, talented, and most importantly, from the states. The xenophobia of most K-netizens was disheartening at best, but you understood that hate was a part of success.

Besides, you were living the dream of many engenes at the moment — most of them would sell their siblings to be in your shoes right now.

“Ahh! This is unreal!!” Jade cheered excitedly in the back of the limousine. You guys had just left the airport around thirty minutes ago, after getting past the pesky crowd of paparazzi.

“I know right? Korean McNuggets slap way harder than back home,” Haerin added while munching on the salty snack.

“Don't get too comfy, Rinnie. We will leave you here,” Serenity joked.

You hadn't even realized the radio was playing until a certain guitar riff blared from the ceiling speakers.

"Oh hell no," Serenity immediately cringed, covering her ears as you, Jade, and Haerin exchanged knowing look, bringing imaginary microphones to your mouths in unison.

It was Enhypen's song Blessed-Cursed, Jay’s voice singing "We go!" over the radio.

"Go, go, go, go, go, go, GO!!" The three of you cheered, obnoxiously dancing to the choreo while sitting.

Memories of your group (minus Serenity) binge watching music videos at sleepovers resurfaced in your mind.

Usually, you'd only listen to throwback hits like Britney Spears or Rihanna, mostly because Rnb and Pop beats inspired your own art.

Still and all, Blessed-Cursed was one video that the three of you fell in love, way before your upcoming collab was even a thought.

"Don't get mad when I start recording you clowns," Serenity threatened, thoroughly amused by your behavior.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Upon arriving outside the Hybe Building, a trio of body guards guided you and your girls to an office room where the seven boys stood awkwardly around a large table.

Part of you still couldn't believe this was all actually happening, despite it being right in front of you.

“Hello! We are Enhypen,” Jungwon bowed as the guards exited the room.

Jay visibly cringed at his leaders words, “I promise we were told to introduce ourselves like that. Please don’t judge us.”

“Well, uhm… H-hi,” you stuttered, feeling a bit nervous, “We are the Riot Grrlz. It’s a pleasure being able to work with you all.”

Niki, the tallest of the boys, caught your attention immediately as he greeted you with a peace sign.

Was he always this cute?, you thought to yourself.

That’s when a lady dressed in all black barged through the glass door on the other side of the room.

“Sorry to interrupt… well, not really. Me and the Enhypen boys are already well familiar with each other, but you ladies can call me Kim,” she greeted, waltzing into the office as if owning the place.

She was a fast talker, so you knew you’d have to pay attention to what she was saying or else you might miss something.

“I hope you made use of each others time and gathered everyone’s names? Phone numbers?”

”We were just in the middle of that before you came in, Miss Kim,” Sunoo clarified.

“Very well then. You have a total of 15 minutes to lock in dorming arrangements. As you’ll see on this clipboard here…”

She paused mid-sentence, holding the clipboard dumbly.

“God, can one of you take this thing already?”

“Oh- sorry,” Heeseung chuckled nervously, taking the clipboard from the fiery woman.

“As I was saying, there are four rooms for the eleven of you to somehow divide. And no, just because you’re all hormonal young adults, none of you get a free pass to break the no-dating rule.”

“No-dating rule? What is this, a detention center,” Serenity mumbled.

Kim cleared her throat, feigning a smile as she glared at Serenity with narrowed eyes, “This is a place of utmost professionalism, Princess Land of The Free. If you have a problem adhering to the rules in place here, you are more than welcome to leave.”

“A-and after that? The fifteen minutes, I mean,” Haerin blurted out shyly.

“All of you will meet back in the main lobby, where you will be guided accordingly.”

Miss Kim turned of her black boots, beelining to the door with powerful strides, “The timer starts now” she called out, closing the door behind her.

And with that began your group discussion of rooming arrangements. Unfortunately, though, things didn’t get off to a particularly nice start.

“Are you effing kidding me?” Serenity asked rudely, screwing her eyes toward a now annoyed Heeseung, “Why can't we just get separate hotel rooms?!?”

“Look, there's no perfect way to go about this," he sighed, crossing out the roommate pairs you all had just agreed on. "So you either humble yourself, or sleep in the bathtub for the next two weeks."

“Really guys, the math is simple,” Jake started, “There’s eleven of us and only four rooms to choose from. Nine of us will be divided in groups of three, and the remaining two will share the last room together.”

"Cool! Me, ____, and Jade can share the first room together!" Haerin obliged with a smile.

"Perfect, and where will I go?" Serenity questioned, mocking Haerin's excitement.

"The bathtub, right?" Jay teased, provoking Serenity to argue with him.

Meanwhile, you attempted to make peace with everyone willing to listen, “Guys, I agree with Jake. We need to make a decision quickly before Kim gets back.”

“Right. Everyone in favor of room number 1, provide a show of hands,” Heeseung said, Jay and Jake raising their hands with him.

"And for room 2?" Jungwon initiated, raising his hand with Jade and Haerin.

A pout formed on Jade's face once she realized that Sunghoon wasn't in the same pair as her.

"3's the magic number, I guess…" Sunghoon offered, Serenity raising her hand with him.

Now it was just you, Sunoo, and Niki remaining.

"I'll group with 3, too. All of our name's start with "S," so it just makes sense that way," Sunoo joined shyly.

"Welp, now that leaves the final room for me and..."

"Me..." Niki spoke with a deep voice, flashing a mysterious half-smile-half-smirk that you knew would haunt your mind later.

"Me and me... the odd one's out! Wow, that's actually perfect!" Jake cheered just as the lady in black strut back in.

“Times up,” she said, taking the clipboard from Heeseung to analyze the finalized dorming plans.

“Hmm, interesting,” she mumbled to herself, tucking the clipboard under her arm.

You all made your way down to the main lobby, just as Kim instructed.

One of the security guards mentioned that Hybe suggested a dinner outing for your group and Enhypen as a way to end the night before you started work the next day… or maybe it was mostly a way to officially confirm the rumors about your collab.

Upon arriving, everyone sat at separate tables, divided according to who they agreed to room with.

Although Niki seemed quiet at first, you and him were giggling the babies the entire time you ate.

“Poor Jungwon. He’s gonna be sandwiched between Jade and Haerin for the next two weeks, his biggest fans,” you joked.

“Nah, Sunghoon and Sunoo have it way worse. Serenity’s attitude is enough to send me running,” Niki chuckled, shaking his head.

"Speaking of running, how come you were appointed leader over your group even though you’re a baby," Niki teased.

"Not you baby-shaming me! I was born in 06', you've barely got any experience on me."

"I've had an entire YEAR to catch up on things, for your information."

"Things like what? Potty training?"

"Pfft, probably..." he replied, going quiet for a second before continuing, "If you ever need help, though, I don’t mind practicing with you after hours.”

"Sounds like fun, but that might be past my bedtime," you pouted playfully, taking one of the fries off his plate.

"Hmm."

"Hmm what?"

"Nothing, I just didn't take you as the type to follow rules," he smirked, taking a sip from his soda.

"I guess it depends on what rules we're breaking. Whether it’s worth it or not."

"So rule breaking is a “we” thing now, huh?"

"Probably..." you smiled, the cool breeze of the foreign air sending shivers down your spine.

Or maybe that had something to do with Niki?

Before you knew it, it was time to head back to your dorms for the night. You knew rehearsals in South Korea were taken a lot more seriously than where you're from, so you needed all the rest you could get.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Day one was easy.

The main focus was recording voice samples in the studio, experimenting with different harmonies, and training your vocals as needed.

Now you were on day two, which started with a quick vocal session, leading into the dance rehearsal warm-up right after. After stretching, the studio was split in half, girls taking the left side and boys taking the right.

You all wore numbers on your back. This way, there wouldn’t be any confusion when any of your were being called.

Niki was assigned number eleven, and you had number one.

According to Jake, the numbers were disseminated based on skill level, and out of the 11 of you, that made Niki first place… and you the very last.

As rehearsals went on, your placement was proving to be true.

You were struggling to keep up with the choreography and it was really starting to bug you.

"Are you feeling okay," Niki asked as you sighed for what sounded like the hundredth time.

"Yea, I'm fine, it’s just this footwork is a bit tricky," you admitted.

“Aww, the smallest number for our most inexperienced contributor,” Serenity teased, making a pass at both your age and inability to get this one move right.

“I may be the youngest out of all of us, but I was appointed head over our group for a reason,” you snapped back.

“Yea… and it still shocks me to this day,” she mumbled, Jade and Haerin pausing to listen now.

You scoffed at her ignorance, putting your hands on your hips, “As if you could lead the Riot Grrlz any better.”

Serenity gave you a look that made you wanna drop here right there in front of everyone.

You never understood why she always had an attitude over the simplest things, and given the current work setting, your tolerance for her bull crap was at an all time low.

“Right, the Riot Grrlz. “Rookie Western Girl Group,” huh? And you expect me to be proud of that?”

“With pride of lionesses, of course,” Jade pitched in, leaning down to fasten her shoelaces.

“We should really keep working on our routine, guys,” Haerin mumbled quietly, causing the raging brunette diva to roll her eyes.

Meanwhile, the boys seemed to be getting along rather well with their part of the routine, completely blind to the chaos brewing at their left.

And by the boys, I mean all of them except Niki and Jake, who were both too distracted by your girl drama.

Way to go embarrassing myself again, you thought to yourself

“You’re new to this sort of training, aren’t you,” Jake asked curiously.

“What, did my shitty dance moves give it away?”

You know it wasn’t Jake’s fault, but you were started to doubt your abilities as an artist and performer.

Even Serenity felt as though you were letting your group down.

“You’re not a shitty dancer, ____,” Niki answered, walking closer to you.

“Yeah, Niki’s right. You shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself,” Jake added.

“Exactly! Just focus on your strengths,” Serenity pitched in, “your vocals, for example. You might ruin the dance routine, but at least you’ll save all the high notes with Heeseung.”

It was clear that you and Niki were equally fed up with Serenity’s toxicity.

“Okay, can everybody clear out for a moment," Niki clapped, causing everyone to back up against the walls almost instantly.

He pulled you by the hand, turning you to face him as he called out to Sunoo, "Put on a random dance track, real quick. Something upbeat, please."

“Gotcha!”

Turning back to you, Niki took your chin in his hand, making your eyes meet his. “Just follow my lead, okay?” He whispered, taking off the bracelet he wore before sliding it on your wrist, “Do you trust me?”

“Niki...” you started, not sure of what he was trying to do.

“I need you to feel the music, ____. Let it control you," he said, stepping away as a short remix of "Buttons" by the Pussycat Dolls blared from the radio.

You could hear an amused Serenity and Sunghoon chuckle a bit at Sunoo’s choice of song, but Niki remained serious.

His gaze met the ground before he started freestyling to the song, letting his mind and body get used to the rhythm as he flowed to the beat. You stood awkwardly beside him, not feeling up to dance at the moment.

He caught sight of you standing and nudged your shoulder, "Loosen up, ____," he smiled, finally starting to feel the song himself.

You started by mirroring his movements at first, adding a few steps to make it fit your own style more.

"See? Now you're getting it," he encouraged again, pulling you toward him so you could dance together.

Your friends and the boys cheered you and Niki on while you two danced as if choreographed.

The track ended with Niki's had on your waist, both of your chests heaving from all the action.

Haerin's jaw dropped as she struggled to find the right words or any words to say, “That was…”

“Sexy!” Heeseung smirked while playfully fanning himself, making Niki turn his face in embarrassment.

You could feel your own face getting hot now, too, especially with everyone staring.

"Relax, Rinnie, you're acting like you've never seen a guy dance with a girl before," Jade chuckled.

"N-not... n-never like THAT,” Haerin said with a shocked face, “____, you're amazing!"

"Thanks," you smiled shyly, eyes falling back the bracelet Niki put around your wrist.

"Keep it... it's a good luck charm," he replied softly.

"Alright, alright. You guys can loosen up each other's buttons on your own time," Serenity snapped, interrupting everyone's gawking.

"Right... On second thought, it’s time for our break," Jay called, handing you and Niki a rag for your sweat.

"Great job, you guys. See you in 20," Jungwon added.

"Come on, girls," you chirped, picking up your gym bag as you took a sip from your water jug, heading towards the studio exit.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The rest of the day continued according to your work schedule. One vocal practice followed the other as the initially difficult routine felt more natural with each retake.

You also made a stop by Hybe's fashion team, getting your measurements taken so they could design your outfit for the upcoming stage.

Although this was a work trip, you were having a blast in Korea so far. You liked getting to work with the new people and trying different foods. You especially liked being roomies with Niki.

He was super talented, chill, yet flirty at the same time.

No wonder his fans go so crazy over him, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, ____,” Niki called out, jogging to catch up as you made your way from the dance studio after going back to get the pair of headphones you forgot near the water cooler.

“I wanna show you something…,” he announced, “Well, a thing I like to do.”

“Mhm, and what’s that?” You asked playfully.

He chuckled, “Just a thing that I can’t get away with while in idol mode. My secret escape... Are you interested?”

You meditated on his words before answering, considering the early curfew outlined by both your managers, and how it was already 8:00 at night, “It’s getting pretty late, you know… Is it gonna take long?”

He giggled again, this time leaning into you. “Only if you’re indecisive.”

The sounds of your sneakers tapping against the shiny tiled floors bounced off the hallway walls.

Like you said, girls would sell souls to be in your shoes right now: there’s no way you were gonna pass up on a chance to hang out with Niki…

A chance to explore this reckless romance.

“Ok, let’s go, but we have to be back by midnight,” you agreed.

“Ok, Cinderella. We’re not too far from where I wanna show you,” he beamed, fighting the urge to hold your hand as you followed him out of the Hybe Building, clashing into the night.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The place was reminiscent of a skate park, graffitied ramp-like walls cupping you and Niki in the surface of the arena.

There were a few other people present, but they seemed more wrapped up in their own little worlds to even look your way…

The moon shined behind the thin clouds of the sky, basking you and Niki’s skin with an ethereal glow.

“This is it!” He gestured with open arms, “my secret escape.”

You tucked your hands in your pockets as it was a bit cold out, “A shared secret place?” You corrected, pointing out the tiny groups of people hanging around.

Niki pushed the hoodie from over his head, revealing his two-toned mane, “I guess you could say that… they’re all idols, here. Just like me. They get why I do this.”

“Why you do what,” you inquired, stepping over a few random rocks that decorated the path.

“Why I dance,” he answered almost immediately, looking you in the eyes, “for myself.”

He took a few steps away from you, swaying to the music that rippled from one of the mystery people’s carry-radios.

Like earlier, you mirrored his moves at first, adding your own adjustments based on intuition.

Feeling.

You had so many more questions to ask, but in this moment, you focused on Niki and the way he moved.

The small groups of people developed into a crowd within a matter of seconds, joining you and Niki along with the music.

Although everyone was doing their own thing, in a strange way if felt harmonious.

Some people danced calmly, others were more wild. Either way, you were starting to understand what Niki meant.

Being able to express yourself away from prying eyes, scornful comments, flashing cameras, or a number 1 sign on your back was invigorating.

The music was still going when Niki grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side, a soft look taking over his features.

“Kiss me,” he whispered, staring into your eyes.

“W-what?”

“I just need to know that what I’m feeling right now is real.”

You took his face in your hands, trying to make yourself feel more in control of the situation, “Niki, I don’t think we should do this. Your manager outlined pretty strict rules.”

He paused before responding, “Remember what you said at the restaurant the first day we met?”

His grip on your hands remained delicate despite how strongly he felt for you.

“About us breaking rules together… only if it’s worth it.”

“Exactly,” he smiled, leaning in, “I knew they didn’t call you a riot girl for nothing.”

His lips connecting with yours like a puzzle piece, both your hearts fluttering as if they’d grown butterfly wings.

You felt like your world was spinning at twice its original speed, but at the same time, the moment felt still.

Niki tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he braced a hand at your waist, pulling you closer before finally letting go.

“I like you, ____. Like, a lot,” he confessed, taking in the dreamy expression displayed on your face.

Your mind went blank.

“Say something? Please,” he urged, taking your hands in his.

A smile wavered over your features as you kissed him back on the lips, feeling as though you both stopped breathing for a moment.

“I like you too, Niki. But isn’t this pretty risky?”

“You said so yourself, risks don’t count if it’s worth it,” he nearly whispered.

“Well,” you began, still holding onto him, “if we’re gonna do this, it has to stay between us… no one else can find out.”

And just like that, you were now secretly dating your roommate / coworker / Enhypen’s main dancer and maknae / one of K-pop’s most sought after It-Boy’s, all in a three days.

Great.

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

You and Niki made it back to you dorm rooms undetected. It seemed like everyone else was either too tired or too busy to notice that you two were out for so long.

Unlocking the door to as quietly as possible, you and Niki took light steps, trying not to disturb anyone or draw attention to yourselves.

Once the door was closed, you both bust out in a fit of laughter for reasons you didn’t understand nor cared to understand.

You didn’t need a reason laugh when Niki was around… it’s kind of just something that started to happen over the last couple days.

“What’s your secret to performing so well?” You asked him, both laying face-up on the lower bunk bed together.

“Hmm, I feel like nervousness is a strength. It pushes you to go forward in a sense…”

“Yeah… I get that. Sometimes, I feel like being calm is dangerous. It puts you in a safe space, when performing should be all about taking chances.”

“Right,” he agreed, resting a hand over his stomach, “Speaking of chances, they’re precious, you know? I never just assume I’ll get another opportunity to dance.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Like…” he sighed, trying to find the right words, “Every time I get on stage… in front of those lights… in front of my fans… I perform-”

“As if it’s your last…” you answered for him.

“Yeah, that,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “You know, it’s really nice talking to someone who gets me… the dancer part of me.”

“Of course, it’s really nice talking to you, too, Niki,” you smiled softly.

Breaking the calmness of the moment, he sat up in his elbows, meeting your face.

“Top or bottom?” He asked, referring to where you wanted to sleep for the night.

You crawled over his body, climbing into the upper bunk of the bed and laying down to finally rest.

“Good night, number 11,” you teased, snuggling into the mattress.

“Rest well, number 1. Big day tomorrow.”

🎙️ For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s, I hope it was worth the wait ~ And yes, before you ask, there will be a second part 💕

⛦ Additional tags for my fellow Niki enthusiasts: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @nikisblkgf @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

@ashgonedash, I still felt bad about forgetting to tag you earlier 👑 so here you go, my love :3

Update: THANK YOU ALL SM FOR 400 NOTES!!

[hypnoneghoul]

Ain't No Hope In Hell

WC: 3k

Relationship: Zephyr/Rain

Tags: Disabled Characters, POTS Rain, Fainting, Semi-Public Bathroom Sex, Transmasc Rain, Non-Binary AFAB Zephyr, Cunnilingus, Minor Gender Dysphoria, Tail Sex

T4T Zephyr and Rain fuck in a disabled mall bathroom after the water ghoul has a fainting spell. That's literally it.

Notes: Commission for @everybodyshusband!!! Also tagging @ominousposting because we talked about these two deserving such action a while ago :3

Read under the cut or on AO3.

The bond that Rain and Zephyr share confuses many. They don’t spend much time together and when they do it’s either to sit in silence for hours or fuck viciously for just as long.

Sometimes one follows the other.

Still, despite it seeming so shallow and even toxic to outsiders, the two ghouls need each other. They understand each other in a way that no other ghoul ever could. Their relationship is in their hearts, minds and souls, not so much in anything that’s on the surface.

And like this, Zephyr and Rain love each other fiercely.

One of the things neither of them would ever be accused of enjoying that they do enjoy when together, is going out. Not to clubs, bars or anything like that; what they like is simple dates like going shopping or to the cinema. 

Today they decided to take a train that leaves every hour from a station a few minutes away from the Abbey and go to a mall. They didn’t have any big shopping plans, just mindless browsing, so to speak. If something would catch either of their eyes they’d get it and be pleased, but they’d be as content to leave with empty hands, only having spent that time together. They can also get some food in there, maybe dessert, too—that’s the thing Zephyr and Rain love about malls; there’s everything there.

Well, maybe they are not very fond of the amount of humans they inevitably encounter every time, but that can be overlooked.

And they are having a great day, indeed, until Rain starts feeling unwell.

“Zeph? Think I’m gonna have a spell,” he mutters, blinking hard as his head sways on his neck. The air ghoul reaches out to grab his wrist and turns it to see his watch. His pulse is going one hundred and fifty beats per minute. “Can we go find a bathroom?”

It definitely isn’t anything more dangerous than his usual episodes, so they should be fine without professional medical assistance, but it needs to be taken care of nonetheless.

“Yeah, of course,” Zephyr says, “it should be just around the corner, are you gonna make it or do you want to switch aids?”

“I–I’ll make it,” the water ghoul breathes shallowly, leaning heavier on his crutch, “just gonna go slow behind you.”

“Alright, puddle. Alright, let’s go.” Zephyr grabs their wheels and rolls on slowly, looking over their shoulder every five seconds to make sure Rain isn’t doing worse. The walk lasts both a second and an eternity, but finally the big accessible bathroom’s door latches behind them and Zephyr only has a second to throw their leather jacket on the floor (of questionable cleanliness) before Rain slides down the wall and passes out.

The air ghoul does not worry, he’ll wake up in a few moments, as always. In the meantime they watch as the other’s glamor slowly slips and rummage through his backpack for a salty snack and some water.

Soon enough Rain opens his eyes.

“There you are, puddle,”  Zephyr chuckles. “Was starting to grow bored.”

“Sure you were,” the water ghoul groans, sitting up slowly. “How long was I out?”

“Whole…” they check their watch in a theatrical manner, “two minutes.”

“Hm.” Rain makes grabby hands when he sees the air ghoul holding his replenishment set ready and they can’t help but shake their head at how adorable he is while still so out of it. He’ll feel better once he munches on a few nuts from his obscenely salty mix, though.

“You think you can get up already?”

“Why?”

“I want you off that nasty floor,” Zephyr scoffs, “and in my lap, preferably.”

Rain rolls his eyes but gets to work on standing up. Thankfully this bathroom actually is accessible—unlike many fakely advertised ones—and there’s a lot of things he can hold on to to stand. It works, albeit the water ghoul still gets dizzy and there’s black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He grabs Zephyr’s hand in the dark and flops down onto their lap. “C’mere, puddle.”

“That is more comfortable,” he sighs, leaning back against the air ghoul’s chest. They place a little kiss on Rain’s neck, just under the gills that escaped his glamor when he was out cold. A pleasant shiver runs down Rain’s spine at the gentle touch and his fins ruffle. “Gimme more, Zeph.”

“Greedy,” they hum but oblige nonetheless, putting their mouth over the water ghoul’s gills and kissing them softly. Rain groans and lets Zephyr appreciate their neck for a little while longer before he can’t take it anymore; he needs their lips on his. He tangles his fingers in the air ghoul’s hair and pulls them away from his neck and up, to kiss him. He slams their lips together and they both moan into it, getting more desperate with every second. They only part to catch a breath.

“Have we ever defiled a disabled mall bathroom before?” Rain asks, panting, as he leans down and rubs his nose up and down Zephyr’s neck, breathing in their fresh summer scent.

“I do not believe that we have,” they answer as they continue to grope the pretty water ghoul in their lap.

He hums thoughtfully, “Do you reckon it is time to do so?”

“Absolutely I do,” Zephyr breathes before tangling their fingers in Rain’s hair and pulling him up to seal their lips in a kiss even more heated than before. Their teeth clank together and they both try to shove their tongue down the other’s throat in a battle for dominance. Even though it’s obvious who is—and is going to stay—in charge. It’s always Zephyr; the only one for whom Rain always subs.

The next time they need to pull away to breathe, Rain notices something on the wall.

“Why was I laying passed out on this filthy floor when there’s a perfect bench right there?” Rain scoffs and throws his hands up dramatically; the princess that he is. There really is a perfect bench right there; albeit a foldable and rather unobvious one.

“You were already going down,” Zephyr shrugs. It is the truth, there was no time, but the truth is also that they didn’t notice it earlier, either. “You know I like to see it.”

“Oh, do you now?” Rain scoffs at the air ghoul’s poor joke. Or a flirting attempt.

“How could I not?” they seem dedicated to making him blush impossibly more, now. “Who wouldn’t like to see a pretty water ghoul between their legs, hm?”

“Are you attempting to make an offer, you old tit?” said water ghoul laughs. Both ghouls are well aware of how the half-affectionate, half-insulting nickname sounds without context and even though it does not get much better with it, the situation improves slightly when one is aware that it originally came from the bird tit and the facts that Zephyr’s feathers in their fully unglamored form are a similar color to that of a tit. The fact that it’s a rather loaded homonym just adds comicality that both Zephyr and Rain love.

“Depends,” the older ghoul shrugs. “Are we in a rush?”

“Not at all. It’s hours until the last train back home leaves.”

“Well, then…Do you want to go down?” Zephyr winks.

“If I can kneel on your jacket.”

“Such a princess, aren’t you? I’ve got a better idea.” Zephyr lightly shoves Rain off of their lap before getting up from their wheelchair and walking over to the bench. They unfold it, look it over and press on it to see if it’s reliable for…more than sitting. It’s rather high, but that will only make the air ghoul’s idea work even better.

“Hop on, puddle,” they pat it in invitation, “today’s my turn to get my mouth on that pretty cunt of yours.”

Rain can’t stop blushing even hotter at that, but he follows the other’s command. As he situates himself on the edge of the bench, Zephyr returns to their wheelchair. They bring it as close to the bench as possible, sit back down and lock the brakes so they don’t just roll away mid eating Rain out.

“As much as I wish I had that skill, I don’t think I can fuck you with my tongue through your jeans,” they tease with a wink, patting his thighs.

“Oh, shut it,” Rain grumbles but does indeed start to fumble with his pants. He drops them down to his ankles but Zephyr tuts and shakes their head. “What?”

“I want my head between your legs, puddle,” they purr, “I need full access.”

Once again the water ghoul mutters something unintelligible under his breath, as if in protest, and yet still obeys Zephyr's every word.

His pants are all but ripped off and thrown across the bathroom to land in the sink—hopefully dry—and the air ghoul wastes no more time. They grab Rain’s thighs, spread them and lean in to nuzzle their cheek against his soft skin. The water ghoul’s lower legs end up hooked over Zephyr’s shoulders and their feet on the back of their chair. A rather solid position, if not for the bench under his ass. His back and hips will hate him for it later, no doubt.

Zephyr throws him one more look before descending onto his cunt and licking a fat stripe up his folds. As always, what they start with is a way to indulge themself more than the other—they love having delicate, wet skin under their tongue. They also love seeing how easy it breaks, but that’s for another time.

The water ghoul instinctively puts one of his hands on Zephyr’s head, digging his fingers into their scalp and pulling on their white as snow hair. They groan against his cunt, but not in protest. Lucifer only knows they grew their hair out just to get it pulled more and, oh, does Rain deliver every time. His tail wraps around Zephyr’s arm when they grip his hip.

Zephyr licks between his folds, up and down to flick the tip of their tongue against his clit and then goes back down to tease around his hole. They prod at it and Rain thinks they’re about to really lick into him when a wave of unpleasantness hits him. He curls in on himself slightly.

“Zeph, wait, uh–” Rain breathes out, tightening the hold he’s got on Zephyr’s hair. They pull away immediately.

“What’s wrong, puddle?” they ask with concern in their voice.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, just…” he bites his lip, “don’t put it in today. Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” the air ghoul smiles at him knowingly, with deep understanding. They’ve been there. “I’ll suck your pretty cock instead, what do you say?”

Rain only lets out a rather undignified grunt as a response as he throws his head back against the wall.

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Zephyr smirks and dives back down to take the water ghoul’s t-dick into their mouth. They start out light; swirling their tongue around it and petting it gently with the appendage. Rain is already so lost in it he can only whine and whimper; thankfully the bathroom is all solid walls, or else someone would definitely be calling in an emergency.

He’s pulling on Zephyr’s hair harder and harder with every lick over his cock, losing his mind even more when the air ghoul really starts doing what they’ve promised; sucking him off. Rain all but wails the first time Zephyr hollows their cheeks and sucks at his sensitive t-dick. It’s maddening.

At some point Zephyr grunts and takes one of their hands off of Rain’s thighs to move it down and fumble with their zipper, desperate for some kind of stimulation themself. They manage to open their pants, wiggle a hand inside and rub their own wet cunt. Rain only notices when the air ghoul’s moan vibrates through him.

“Zeph–” he pants, “Zeph, lemme–”

The water ghoul can’t really articulate what he wants, overwhelmed with pleasure. He unwinds his tail from Zephyr’s other arm and shoves it down their pants along with their hand.

“Oh,” they moan as they pull away from Rain’s cunt. They squeeze their eyes and rest their head against the water ghoul’s thighs, breathing heavily as he rubs their clit with the tip of his tail.

“Good?”

“Yeah, get it–puddle, get it in deep,” Zephyr begs and their shaky voice makes Rain whimper.

He obliges—once he collects himself enough to focus—and pushes his tail further down their pants. He finds the air ghoul’s slick hole and pushes in, slowly sliding his tail deeper and deeper until he all but runs out of it.

“Fuck…” they swear under their breath and follow it with a whine and it’s like a song. Zephyr returns to sucking Rain’s dick as if they want to slurp his soul out right through it and the water ghoul himself does his very best to stay focused enough to be able to fuck the other steadily with his tail.

There’s no rhythm to it, but neither of them cares; it’s all a blur of moans and whines and groans as they pleasure each other the way they know the other likes best. That’s the thing about them; they just know things, understand each other like nobody else.

Rain’s eyes cross when the air ghoul trails their wet tongue down, past his cunt to lick at his taint and tease his ass. Just for a moment, to make Rain soaking wet all around; they don’t go further, but Rain moans as they’re taking him apart piece by piece anyway. If Zephyr had access to the base of his tail, too, it’d all be over in seconds. Alas, their position makes it impossible.

There’s something about the softness of the skin in some places that makes Zephyr lose their mind. Another rather peculiar thing about them.

The air ghoul drags a smooth fang up the inside of Rain’s thigh—both a threat and a promise, but only for when they’re back home. They’re both wrecked and the fact that they’re in public escapes their horny minds entirely, it’s the instinct that keeps Zephyr in check.

“Do that…your tail, the–that thing you do…” they groan and even though it’s not much information, Rain knows exactly what to do.

“Lean back, need–need space.” He pulls his tail out of the air ghoul’s cunt and twists it tightly around itself, only leaving the spade out on the bottom. When he slides it back into Zephyr, it’s like a perfectly textured thick dildo with an attachment to stimulate their clit. Rain presses the flat tip of his tail against it and the air ghoul folds in on themself in pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s good,” they moan and start rolling their hips slightly, riding Rain’s tail as much as possible as they return to the task at hand; the delicious, soaking wet water ghoul cunt right in front of their face. And making it even wetter.

It won’t take much more and they both know it; it’s just a minute after Zephyr puts their mouth on Rain’s cock that he cries out a warning, “Close…”

“Uh-huh,” Zephyr hums in acknowledgement and nods slightly. The water ghoul can only assume it means they are nearing their climax, too. Still, the air ghoul is focused solely on Rain and making him cum his brains out. They double down their efforts and the noises falling from rain’s lips gain in volume.

“Yes, yes, yes–I’m–c–cumming, Zeph, oh,” he moans—the loudest and most wrecked of them all—and the air ghoul can feel slick gushing out of him to drip down their chin and onto the godforsaken bench. Rain’s entire body goes rigid as waves of his orgasm wash over him; including his tail. The makeshift dildo becomes impossibly thicker inside them and Zephyr groans in a nearly pained manner as they’re thrown over the edge, too.

Rain sags forward, falling face first into Zephyr’s chest as they lean back in their wheelchair. The both of them breathe heavily for a longer while, slowly coming down from their highs.

“I hate you, you old tit,” the water ghoul murmurs at some point, making Zephyr laugh.

“I love you, too, puddle,” they reply with a grin, patting his back.

Once they deem themselves composed enough again, they get up to clean the mess that they’ve made of each other. Putting both their glamors back in place and adjusting their clothes and hair so as to not scream with their looks about what they’ve been up to in that bathroom, they get ready to go.

“I don’t even want to know for how long we’ve been blocking this bathroom,” Rain grunts, a little disappointed in himself. 

“Don’t worry, puddle,” Zephyr reaches out to pat his hip reassuringly, “it’s not a busy day and I’ve seen another one not so far from here, I’m sure we didn’t cause anyone inconvenience.”

The water ghoul hums in acknowledgement and finally unlocks the door again. To his great relief there isn’t anyone waiting. They leave the bathroom and decide to visit one more shop that was on their agenda; Rain feels alright now and one more won’t hurt anyone. After that they check potential trains that could take them back to the Abbey and start making their way to the station.

“We should have a list,” Zephyr proposes at some point.

“Of what?” Rain asks, genuinely curious.

“Places we defiled,” the older ghoul clarifies and Rain snorts out a laugh, “and places we have yet to defile.”

“I’m down,” he giggles under his breath, “but only if we write it down on a piece of paper that I can hang on the fridge in the den.”

“You got it, puddle,” Zephyr grins. “My requirement is that we put Primo’s closet at the very top of the been there, done that part.”

“Ah…” Rain sighs dreamily, “that was a glorious time, indeed, dear Zephyr.”

“Absolutely it was, dear Rain,” the air ghoul agrees. “Whose next, Terzo or Copia’s?”

“Secondo’s. Let’s go chronologically.”

“I love your brain, puddle.”

[updownlately]

i'm so furious (at you for making me feel this way)

| leah williamson x reader | a little sprinkle of angst, a little hint of fluff | 2.4k | a/n: another req! this one's based off the song 'gorgeous' by taylor swift and as usual, it's not at all proofread. honestly took a completely different direction as i was writing it but eh. to whoever requested it, my bad it took a while- hope you like it! happy reading folks!

~~~

“What? You’re not gonna say ‘hi’?”

Eyes rolling at the cocky voice directed your way, you shook your head slightly, walking faster as you ignored the woman standing in front of you. 

You really didn’t have the energy to deal with this now, not after how exhausting your past few days, months, really had been.

Intending on joining the rest of your team at the table without a fuss, you brushed by her without as much as a second glance, letting out a breath as you got away.

Or so you thought. 

You didn’t make it more than a couple steps past her before you felt an all too familiar hand wrap around your wrist, your moments stilling at the force. 

Huffing, you didn’t bother turning around, instead choosing to speak loudly so you wouldn’t have to look at her. 

“Leah, let me go…”

“Stay a minute? Let me buy you a drink.”

You could feel the smirk in her voice as she spoke, it already infuriating you as it had many times before, this time without you even having to see it. 

Clenching your jaw, you dropped your voice, still looking straight ahead, nearly empty glass held precariously in your other hand.

“I’m not in the mood to talk.”

Hearing a scoff in response, you made a move to tug your wrist out of her grip, failing to do so as it instead tightened slightly.  

“Not in the mood to talk, yet you’re talking to everyone here but me?”

The accusation was followed by a laugh but you knew Leah well enough to know she was anything but joking. 

Turning around to meet ocean blue eyes, you pursed your lips as you narrowed your eyebrows, not in the mood for any of the midfielder’s shenanigans. 

“Take it as a compliment…”

With that, you twisted your arm sharply, effectively breaking out of her hold as she held your gaze. 

“And what would be the compliment exactly? You hate me enough to ignore me?”

You froze slightly as she took a step closer, letting out a shaky breath as her piercing eyes peered into yours. 

Swallowing hard, mind racing with memories of when you used to look into these exact pair of eyes fondly, having been teased by your shared teammates thousands of times, you felt your heart tighten slightly, a dull ache making itself known. 

Trying to seem nonchalant, you shrugged in response, your slightly intoxicated state causing the following words to slip out of your mouth before you could even think about the consequences.

“That you look so gorgeous it makes me mad you aren’t mine…” You mumbled bitterly. 

The ‘anymore’ goes unsaid, but you know she heard it too, her head tilting as a small smile crossed her face. 

Despite having broken up nearly a year ago, the blonde hadn’t gotten over you. No matter how many people she had met, dates she had been set up on, times she had been asked out, each and every time the English captain tried to get over you, she had failed miserably, always finding herself comparing her companion for the date to you. 

It was getting ridiculous at this point really. Even if she wanted to get over you (spoiler: she didn’t), she couldn’t. 

Memories of the way you’d always shoot the blonde a grin, even in the worst of times, and how you’d always beg her for piggyback rides after games unforgettable to Leah. 

The countless times you had spent late nights and early mornings together, talking about nothing and everything, bodies curled up against one another as an easy air filled the room. 

The innumerable times you had tried (and failed miserably) to teach the blonde how to cook, it always ending up with her banished to sit on the counter as you would try to save the catastrophe she would somehow manage to cause (and later apologise for with infinite cuddles and kisses). 

It was all that was on her mind, a piece of her knowing you had been the one, the one she had and then lost. 

Months of anxiously waiting for you to even be in the same room had led to tonight, dinner and drinks with your and her national teammates, the two teams having just played a friendly in London. And the blonde would be lying if she denied the fact that she had today’s date saved in her calendar since the game had been scheduled.

“Can’t bear talking to you…” you muttered the words under your breath, mind a frenzy with her perfume infiltrating your senses- the same perfume you always loved smelling on the hoodies you’d steal from her years before.

You watched as Leah’s smile disappeared at your words hushed words, a disappointed look taking over her face at your words, the hurt clearly visible. 

Your heart sank as you watched the change. Realising how those words sounded, you quickly began to backpedal. Just because she wasn’t yours anymore didn’t mean you cared any less for her. 

Stammering out, you blushed in embarrassment as the words fell from your lips.

And as you did, you wondered if maybe, just maybe, you should’ve stopped after the fourth drink like your friends had suggested. 

“Can’t say anything to your face because every time I look at you it makes me furious that I’m not over you yet- that I still feel this way even though you’ve moved on…”

Eyes downcast as you trailed off, you curled slightly in on yourself, self-conscious of the feelings you had make known, the knowledge that they were very much one sided unsettling.

It’s why Leah’s retort caught you off guard, the softly whispered words, quiet enough that you almost missed them, tilting your world on its side.

“Who said I have…”

Whipping your head up, you watched the blonde took a sharp breath in, clearly caught off-guard by her own admission. 

Almost believing her for a minute, you shook your head in disagreement. 

“Pictures don’t lie Leah…the girl you were with the other day? All cozied up first at a club, then Ibiza?”

“You keep up with me.” The statement was accompanied with a cheeky grin, the other girl avoiding your question completely. 

Feeling a smile creep up on you at her cheekiness, you clenched your jaw. You couldn’t believe you were falling for her charm again.

“You know what, you have a point…I’ll stop.” The cold words came out cleanly, nearly emotionless as you did your best to give her nothing to work with.

You didn’t know if you could survive falling for her again, and you didn’t want to find out. 

Leah didn’t mind expressing her distaste at your statement however, the protest immediate. “You don’t have to…”

“Oh no but I do- you ruined my life you know?” 

You words were emotion laced this time, mind hazy with the alcohol thrumming through your veins, a stark contrast to your sentence before- the anger you had pent up over the past year finally coming to light. 

“Me?! How?”

“By loving me and then leaving me…by not being mine!”

“You were the one who left! And she’s just a friend, honest!” The Gunner put her hands up in the air, a genuine expression on her face. 

Taking a quick glance behind you and then Leah, you made sure none of your teammates were eavesdropping, well aware of their tendency to blow things out of proportion. 

It’s not like your relationship had been a secret, but you had just never bothered to confirm anything with anyone, too content in your own little bubble to let anyone else take a peak. 

Still, you didn’t need the relentless jesting of your teammates tonight- not after the emotional rollercoaster you were currently on. 

Facing the blonde again, you lowered your voice. “We were just friends too…”

The resounding ‘no’ you received was immediate, Leah’s definitive tone leaving nothing up for debate. “No we weren’t. We never were just friends. You know it.”

“Leah…”

Grabbing your wrist once more, a stern look on her face, Leah hastily pulled you to a dark corner of the bar, you both hidden in the shadows as she turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, a striking change in her demeanour.

“Don’t ‘Leah…’ me. You left. You decided that you were going to move to a whole new country without asking me. You chose a long distance relationship for us without asking me what I thought. You left me. And where did that leave us? Leave me? I can’t even go on a date with someone without thinking of you!”

By now the blonde was breathing heavily as you stared, jaw clenched as you took in her words. 

“You were the one who chose to break up!”

She stepped closer to you, invading your personal space, head slightly down as she met your gaze.

“You signed the contract before we could even talk!”

“You didn’t even bother fighting for us!”

“‘Cause you didn’t even give me a chance to!“

“I-“

“You what?”

The sharp response had your eyes widening, heartbeat racing as your mind remember the chaos of last summer’s transfer window. The way you hadn’t felt at home in London wearing blue. How countless nights were spent apart from your girlfriend, the physical distance between you short, but still feeling like you were kilometres apart.

You had figured that maybe some space would’ve done you some good. It’s why you had decided to quietly sign for Wolfsburg, only telling the blonde after since she had barely been home, had barely talked to you.

Looking back now however, maybe it wasn’t your wisest decision.

Whispering quietly as the realisation hit you like a truck, your eyes widened. 

“I didn’t know…”

All you got in response was the blonde stepping impossibly closer to you, your faces inches away. 

“You wanna know the worst part? I hate that I still miss you everyday. I hate that I still wake up some mornings reaching out to your side of the bed. I hate that the only time I see you is when I see pictures of you online. I hate that the first time I’m seeing you in nearly a year is in a dingy bar with the rest of our drunk teammates milling around when this past year could’ve been so different for us. I hate that I can’t have you. I hate that you aren’t mine”

The frustrated words slowly morphed into those of defeat, leaving you breathless- the declaration, the sentiment of Leah’s words not lost on you. You definitely didn’t expect the night to go like this.

You didn’t know what to say, mind reeling at the fact that you weren’t the only one who hadn’t gotten over your relationship. To be fair, you didn’t know how many people got over a two, nearly three year relationship quickly, but with all the social media posts and the stories you would hear about the blonde from mutual friends, you had figured she moved on pretty quickly.

You’d clearly been wrong though.

“I-”

Pleading ocean blue eyes looking in yours, you let yourself sink and drown in the emotions swimming in the orbs.

“I-…I’m sorry.”

Swallowing hard, you contemplated on telling the blonde the news you’d been holding back for the better part of a month, the summer international season wrapping up today and giving you way to make an official announcement soon.

You saw as Leah observed you closely, her head tilting to the side as she sensed you were holding something back, her knowledge of you from when you dated not lost in the slightest.

You stared blankly as her eyes went wide, her stepping away from you as the gears in her brain turned. 

“Oh my god, please don’t tell me you have a girlfriend or someth-“

Shaking your head quickly, eyes widening at the worldly incorrect guess, you placed your hands on her waist, immediately pulling her back, her warmth alluring, her presence a comfort you had missed dearly and didn’t want to lose for  even a second.

“No. God, I couldn’t even if I tried. Trust me, you weren’t the only one who couldn’t move on…”

Comforting the blonde with your shared emotions of the past handful of months, you relaxed yourself, the admission lifting the weight off your shoulders, no need for you to pretend you were okay without her.

Taking a deep breath in as Leah neared your proximity once more, your hands travelling up to her shoulders as hers found purchase on your hips, you chose to ignore the somersaults your stomach was doing at finally being in Leah’s arms after so long.

Closing your eyes, terrified of the response you were going to get, you quickly blurted out what you had been holding back.

“There’s a high chance, and by high I mean nearly 99% done, of me transferring to Arsenal for the upcoming season…”

Having spent the last year with Wolfsburg, your one year contract had expired after the end of the league, you choosing not to renew when your childhood club put in an offer. 

Peeking an eye open to gauge Leah’s reaction, you couldn’t stop the smile that spread on your face as you saw her eyes shine with joy, a beaming grin on her face at your words. 

“Don’t lie…please…”

Shaking your head, you internally melted at how hopeful the skipper looked.

“I promise I’m not.”

At your words, you saw as her smile grew again, Leah scooping you up into her arms to hug you tightly at the news- resentment be damned- the joy of having you near drowning out any and all negative sentiments in the blink of an eye.

Feeling her grin against the crook of your neck, you rested your face against her shoulder, sinking into the familiar feeling of being her arms, a feeling you missed terribly.

And as Leah pulled back, the twinkle in her eyes paralleling the brightest stars in the sky, you smiled shyly as she rested her forehead against yours, you both silently understanding what this meant for you and for her, for you both. 

It wasn’t much, nothing resolved between the two of you, at least not yet- but it was something- a starting point. 

Soft smiles on both of your faces, you let yourself be led out, following behind Leah, hands gently intertwined and a glimmer of hope in your hearts. 

[justanotherfanartist]

taps mic. ahem.

help a student write a dumb rvb research paper? pretty please?? for funsies???

This is exactly what it sounds like.

My current final of the year for my language composition class is a massive synthesis + argumentative research paper on any topic of our choosing, and Roosterteeth + RVB has too much messy junk going on that I’m knee-deep invested in mentally at this point to pass up the opportunity to write about it.

And yknow, I see a ton of media analysis posts coming out of the fandom all the time and I’ve always loved seeing it and reading into it and sharing ideas and whatnot and this feels like my way of doing that too.

Essentially what I’m reaching out for is for you guys to help me crowdsource resources and share your ideas with me to include in my term paper*.

things that would be wizard cool of you to send me are:

any interviews or behind the scenes with the cast and creators you happen to know of

your own analysis or hot takes of the characters or the show as a whole

what the show has meant to you

any clips of old Roosterteeth expos

for the older fans, a rough idea of what the release timeline looked like for the episodes and what the buildup and fan reaction was for each one

any commentary or hot takes on how the fandom has changed since you joined/that you know of

what Roosterteeth did wrong (writing wise and irl)

what Roosterteeth did right (writing wise and irl)

tropes within the show you noticed whether originated by the show or not

tropes within the fandom, things like similar portrayals or bad/good takes on characters or face canons that span artists

literally anything you can give me, media, commentary, or opinion wise

(not to say I can’t find things on my own, I already have, but this is also about varying opinions and the general outlook of the fandom as a whole and measuring the broader impact of a show like RvB and it would be incredibly cool of you to help me out even with just crumbs of character opinions)

The idea is to get evidence together from clips, personal anecdotes, and opinions so I can present an accurate read on the fandom, especially when it comes to fan interpretation of RVB vs Roosterteeth’s intentions for the show (and behavior as a company) and explore what the show was supposed to be, what it literally is, how people see it, what its impact has been, and a general overview of the it’s legacy and lifespan, that sort of thing.

My thesis is most likely going to end up something in the ballpark of “How Roosterteeth exemplifies the Franchisation of Indie Media” or “Why RvB is one of the most complicated/misunderstood/divisive shows in modern media” or “How Fandoms interpret and recontextualize media”

I’m going to guess that I likely won’t be able to post the finished paper up online without a solid buffer window to avoid the two mortifying scenarios that are (a) being accused of creative plagiarism and (b) having to tell my instructor that the tumblr account with a 100% match to my course final is, in fact, my tumblr account, are two things I desperately want to avoid.

However if I can, simply for the sake of contributing to the fandom and creating something for us to all contribute to and discuss and crediting various peoples’ help and input would be ideal and, if at all possible, that would be the end goal.

so yeah. if you’re up for it I’d love for you to dm me your thoughts or (more conveniently for the both of us) fill out this Google form down here!

*im not gonna, like, repost your detailed character analysis as my own or something. I’m just trying to find some good quotes, general opinions, and ideas from the fandom so that I can accurately represent them and do our little corner of the internet Justice. And also because the audience of a work is a massive factor in media analysis lmfao. and also to create a community sourced Fun Thing™️ we can all look at and bite the corners off of instead of watching Roosterteeth crash and burn in the backgroun

[thedvilsinthedetails]

Rosekiller band au microfic!!!

hey guys, I wrote the first microfic in the lil series I’m doing, you can find the original idea for it here

ik I’d said I’d wait but I’m impatient hahaha

(some of the ppl that asked to be tagged if i ever wrote it: @always-reading @blu3stars @chaoticgaywitch @1284646imjusthere @depressedtheatrekiddo @idk-what-to-put-here-123)

anyway just wrote this pretty quickly so it might have some mistakes n stuff sorry abt that I don’t do grammar or punctuation anyway here you go, enjoy:

(EDIT: link to part 2)

••• Pink lipstick stains, cigarette butts

I lie in bed, I hate my guts

A day in the dark 

A muddled afternoon, yeah

Barty pressed his cheek close to Evan as they sang into the same microphone. He could feel the buzz of the music through the vibration of the stage below him. 

Oh baby darling how I long 

To become your suicide blonde

He ran a hand through Evan’s platinum curls as he sung the line. Evan leaned into it, eyes meeting Barty’s, grinning as he sung. 

To lie beside my Romeo

Oh what a wicked way to go

Evan’s fingers moved deftly on the guitar, he lifted a hand, twirled the pick in his hand before resuming immediately, he didn’t take his eyes off Barty the entire song. 

•••

“Ah fucking hell look at the comments Bee.”

Evan was sat at the base of the sofa, scrolling through the comments on a video of their performance last night. He held the phone up to Barty on the sofa, who squinted before taking it and reading it out to the room.

“Skittlefiend57 says ‘omg Blarty and Evan! I’m so gone 4 them u guys’”

“Blarty?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“We’ve been getting my name wrong all these years guys. Wow that’s a crazy thing to discover at 23.”

“Bad spelling aside, there’s way more. And it’s not all good stuff.”

Evan said and Barty looked back down at the comments. 

“Barty and Evan are queerbaiting, they act so gay but they’re not dating. It’s all clearly faked to get attention. Fucking pathetic. Why thank you peenisonapizza. Glad to see you know us personally and can therefore speak on our behalf.”

“Don’t know why they’re obsessed with accusing a band with two trans guys of queer baiting.”

Evan pinched his furrowed brow and shook his head in disbelief.

“They don’t even care about the fucking music, just us and whether we’re dating or not.”

Barty laid down on the sofa, dropping one arm around Evan and resting his chin on Evan’s shoulder.

“Hey cheer up Rosie. They care about the music. There’s a few assholes but that’s a given. If they weren’t talking about us acting gay they’d be talking about whether my tattoos are real or fake.”

“Or some conspiracy theory that Reggie’s not actually lactose intolerant.” 

Pandora chipped in.

“I’m not lactose intolerant!”

Regulus replied indignantly.

“Is that you talking or your obsession with chocolate?”

Dorcas rolled her eyes as she spoke. Regulus avoided her gaze as he mumbled out a half hearted response.

“Remus got me hooked on Tony’s chocolonely.”

While the rest of the group squabbled Evan leaned his head back against Barty’s shoulder, he pulled out his phone.

***

Evan.Rosier✔️

Hey everyone, I’ve noticed there’s a lot of speculation about me and @Barty.Grouch.JR and I wanted to say that it’s none of your business, you can think what you like but please don’t ask us or spam comment sections with theories. As always thank u so much for listening to our music, the skittles luv u x

***

Evan breathed in and passed the phone to Barty.

“You think this is good?”

Barty read it over and nodded.

“You’ve been really nice about it too.”

Evan huffed out a laugh.

“I was normal about, not my fault you would have said something like-“

“Roses are red, violets are blue, you are a cunt and I hate you @peenisonapizza.”

Barty took a small bow, flourishing his hand dramatically. Evan turned around and flicked him in the leg, which only succeeded in making him laugh. 

 “Ok I’ve posted it.”

Evan clicked post and watched as the ‘likes’ number quickly began to climb.

“Now I’m just not gonna read the comments on that post.”

Evan huffed out a laugh and Barty patted his shoulder.

“Good on you Rosie. Now who wants to watch a movie?”

Evan clambered onto the sofa next to Barty who leaned against him immediately, head resting on his shoulder.

“Rosie.”

Barty whispered.

“Yeah Bee?”

“Give me your phone. Look we both know it will bother you all evening not reading those comments if you have your phone on you. Just- out of sight out of mind, I’ll give it back to you once the movie is over but you deserve to have an evening off.”

Barty’s eyes were wide, expression genuine as he spoke. Evan hesitated then reached in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t spam it with photos alright?”

A smirk spread on Barty’s face quickly, eyes sparkling.

“I make no promises Ev.”

Evan rolled his eyes but handed the phone over. 

The movie was something Pandora had picked, something from the late 80s, a strange mix of fantasy, reality and meta theatre that Evan actually didn’t hate.

Still he drifted to sleep at some point watching it, the stress of the day had clearly gotten to him and something about the way the top of Barty’s head made for a great pillow probably didn’t help.

Either way he woke up to the feeling of Barty shaking him.

“Come on sleeping beauty, let’s get you to a real bed. Here’s your phone back.”

Evan rubbed his eyes and got up, stumbling to his room as thanked Barty in a half asleep murmur.

He got to his room and turned on his phone, wincing at the glaring brightness, turning it down quickly. He opened his photos app, just as he’d suspected his camera roll was filled with new photos.

He began to scroll through them. There was one of his friends, all waving at the camera. A zoomed in shot of Inigo Montoya‘s face on the TV screen from a funny angle. Himself, looking dumb, sleeping with his mouth slightly open. He scrolled to the next picture and stopped. Barty with that cheeky grin of his, curled up against Evan, flipping off the camera. Eyes twinkling in that way that always made Evan feel a little warmer, a little brighter. He fell asleep again dreaming of a body pressed against his in a hug, the hum of a movie no longer playing, soft hair tickling his face and mischief painted in big brown eyes. 

For info about the position they’re sat in (it’s clear in my mind but I’m not sure how clear it is in the description), the song that they are playing and the movie they watch, look below the read more:

Position they are in before Evan gets on the sofa, red is Evan, green is Barty - yes Barty is uncomfortable, yes he would sit like that anyway bc Barty will do fucking contortion to be able to hug Evan argue with a wall

Don’t question the drawing skills, I can’t draw and did it in a moving vehicle

the song is EVOL by MARINA

the movie is the princess bride suggested by the lovely @lulublack90 who u shld defo check out bc she’s rlly amazing at writing

(Oh also Evan and Reggie are both trans in this)

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Part 2

Word Count: 4.8k

Genre: smut, angst

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: unhealthy relationships, jealousy, dom!reader, sub!beomgyu, riding, toys, orgasm denial.

If you want to commission me, click here.

Now that Taehyun is working with you, Beomgyu is not content to just drive you to work as he always does. No, now he has to walk you inside, arm wrapped tightly around you to make sure everyone, especially Taehyun, knows you’re claimed.

“Oh, hey.” Taehyun greets when he sees you. “You look beautiful today.” 

You don’t get the chance to properly glare at him for purposefully annoying your boyfriend before Beomgyu twists you around and smashes your lips together, pulling you into a kiss that is far too indecent for public.  

Yet another co-worker snorts. "We get it dude. She's yours. Are you gonna pee on her to claim your territory too?"

Your cheeks flame up and you shove Beomgyu away, absolutely mortified by the spectacle he has made of you. “Beomgyu!”

“What? Don’t want him to see who you belong to?” He asks, daring to sound upset at you.  

“Everyone knows we’re dating. Get your head out of your ass.” You smack his hands completely off you, livid at his underhanded accusation. 

“Wouldn’t hurt to remind him.” He mutters, and you roll your eyes, ushering him out of the cafe before you get fired for an indecent act in the workplace. “Leave. You’ve done enough.” 

You don’t give him the chance to respond before you step back into the restaurant and slam the door in his face, trying your best to avoid everyone’s gaze. You quickly get dressed then step behind the counter, getting the orders ready for the customers streaming in, trying to shake off the strong sense of deja-vu you felt at the way Beomgyu behaved. Those dream are really messing you up. 

“Your boyfriend really doesn’t like me, huh?” Taehyun comments, working alongside you. 

“Don’t take it personally. He gets jealous easily.” You sigh, brushing it off. 

“It sure feels personal though. It’s like I killed his cat in the past or something.” 

“Funny you should say that.” You snort, but don’t elaborate, not wanting to deal with another guy ridiculing you for your dreams.

But Taehyun is intrigued, and he doesn’t drop it. “What do you mean?”

“Forget about it.” You brush him off, handing a customer their drink with a forced smile, but that makes him even more curious. As you go to make another drink, he takes the coffee pot from your hand, forcing you to look at him. “No, tell me.”

“Taehyun, there are customers waiting.” You snap but he just shrugs. “So? They can survive five minutes without their morning lattes.” 

You give him a pointed look. “Yeah? Have you met our clientele? They’re mean when they’re low on caffeine.” 

“I can handle it. Just tell me.” He reassures you, but conspicuously starts making a new drink. 

“Okay fine, but don’t laugh. You asked for it.” He nods, waiting patiently for you to explain. “So I keep having these dreams about me and Beomgyu in another life, a past life. He’s a prince and I’m a lady of the court and we want to be together but we can’t because he’s betrothed to someone else and so everything is all fucked up but we love each other so much and want to be with each other anyway. It’s all very fanciful and silly but then again the dreams are so vivid, it’s like I’m really there. It feels more real than my actual memories, you know?”

He nods, a small smirk on his face that tells you that he doesn’t really buy what you’re saying–you don’t really buy what you’re saying either–but he’s kind enough to hold his tongue and not make fun of you like Beomgyu does.

“Anyway, you’ve been appearing in the dreams lately too.” That catches his interest, and he listens even more intently. “You’re this powerful lord from another city and we start getting close which dream Beomgyu really hates. He tries so hard to keep us apart that he even ends up locking me in my room so I wouldn’t see you but you sneak in to see me anyway, and then… Well, I don’t know what. That’s all I know so far. He basically wants to kill you because you won’t stay away from me. Dream him, I mean… though, I’m not too sure real Beomgyu doesn’t want to kill you too.”

“Oh, please, I can take him.” He says confidently and you look him over. Sure, he looks like he’d be able to take Beomgyu. Physically he appears stronger than your boyfriend, but there is just something about Beomgyu you don’t like to think about that causes the hairs at the back of your neck to stand up.  

“Anyway, that is all very intense.” He finally says, “You have quite the imagination.” 

“I knew it. You think it’s stupid.” You flush, embarrassed that you revealed all of this to him. 

“No, no. It’s not stupid. It’s not real, but it’s not stupid.” He reassures you, or at least he tries to. “Maybe these dreams are your brain’s way of working through issues you’re having with your boyfriend? I mean, I didn’t show up in your dreams before you saw me, right? And it was only after seeing how Beomgyu got so aggressive with me that you had the dreams about him trying to keep us away from each other, right?”

“I guess…” What he’s saying makes sense. Maybe it’s just your brain trying to make sense of the whirlwind that is your romantic life with Beomgyu. 

“Well, there you go.” He proclaims, “Maybe the way to stop these dreams is to work out the issues you’re having with Beomgyu.” 

“Easier said than done.” You snort, and once again Taehyun is not letting your little passive-aggressive comments pass by. “What do you mean?”

You sigh. “He’s impossible to talk to about these things. He either gets so defensive you can never fault him for his behavior or he freaks out about us breaking up that I end up needing to comfort him for his own bad behavior.” 

Taehyun wears a frown on his face. “That doesn’t sound too healthy. If you can’t even talk things through then how can you expect your relationship to survive?” 

“Don’t say that. Beomgyu is a wonderful guy and a loving boyfriend. He just gets insecure and needs reassurance. It’s because his ex fucked him up or something.” You mutter the last part bitterly. If she hadn’t messed him up so much, Beomgyu would have literally been the perfect boyfriend. 

“But that’s not your fault. What she did to him has nothing to do with you. If he can’t separate the two then he doesn’t deserve to be with you.” 

You shake your head. “You’re being too harsh on him.” Yes, Beomgyu is acting like an ass right now but that doesn’t take away from all the wonderful things he is. 

“Am I? If you let this go then he’ll only get worse.” 

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you should stand up more to Beomgyu. Things can get really bad when he gets into his head, but when he’s good, he’s really good and that always brings you right back into his arms. 

________________

As if he could read your thoughts, Beomgyu takes you out on a much needed date at the local arcade, seemingly aiming to make you forget about the erratic way he has been acting lately. 

You’re both video game fans, especially those old games you used to play growing up, and so this is like Disneyland for you. You have so much fun recalling all the good times you had playing these classic games, only you get to enjoy them with the person you love this time around, and damn does it feel ten times more fun with Beomgyu. 

“Oh my god, oh my god!” Beomgyu screams, trying to keep up with you but failing miserably, messing up his steps on the dance dance revolution game, and allowing you to take the lead. “No, this is too fast–ahhhh!”

You laugh at his exclamations, messing up a few steps of your own as you sneak glances at him, enjoying the way he makes such a show of it, always aiming to entertain and get a laugh out of you and everyone else. You know he doesn’t actually care about losing. He just wants to make it fun for you. 

The machine makes a noise that indicates the game is over and that you’ve won, and the small crowd that has gathered to watch you because of your boyfriend's antics cheers for you. 

“Thank you, thank you.” You give a gracious bow, before pulling your stupid boyfriend into a kiss that receives a couple of woohoos. 

“I know. I know. I can’t believe she’s dating me too.” He says and you smack his shoulder shyly. “Shut up. You’re such a simp.” 

 “No, I’m not. I’m just appreciating my beautiful, wonderful girlfriend who–”

“Get a room! Some of us actually want to play.” A teen shouts out at you, and his friends jeer in agreement, forcing you off the game with embarrassed giggles. 

“Wow, kids are mean.” Beomgyu exclaims and you laugh. “Kids? We’re barely a couple of years older than them.”

“Yeah. I guess so.” Beomgyu comments, not seeming to share your laughter. 

“Hey, are you okay? They were jerks but they’re just teens, you know?” You try to comfort him. You know how mean teens can be, but Beomgyu just shakes his head and gives you a big smile. “Oh no, I’m not thinking about that at all. I just remembered something… doesn’t matter. Let’s go play another game.” 

“Okay…” You trail off uncertainly, unsure if he’s really okay. But then you spot something that takes your attention away. “Oh, let’s go play that shooter game! There is a toy there that I really want!” 

You step towards it, but as soon as you do, you’re being pulled back by your boyfriend. “I don’t really like shooter games. Too violent, you know?”

“It’s an air gun.” You explain slowly as if he doesn’t grasp the concept, and he shrugs.  “Well, it still teaches violence to kids. Today an air gun, tomorrow a school shooting.” 

You roll your eyes at his silly dramatics. “Too bad we aren’t kids then. We’re a whole couple of years older than kids. Now come on.” You drag him behind you, sights already set on a teddy bear that reminds you of Beomgyu. 

“I wanna win that one! Add it to my beargyu collection at home.” You clap excitedly, and the man at the stand hands you a gun to use.

“She’s got a good eye. She picked the best prize.” The man tells Beomgyu then turns back to you. “You have to shoot all the cans down to be able to win that one.”

“Yeah. She has expensive taste, that one.” Beomgyu comments and you pout, playfully shoving him. “Gyu!” 

“Is it not true?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and you push your head up defiantly. “I just have high standards, that’s all.” 

“I know, baby. And you deserve the best.” He says, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it, making you blush. 

“Are you going to shoot?” The man asks impatiently, bored with you and Beomgyu’s public displays of affection. You don’t care though, sending Beomgyu a kiss and a wink.. 

Still, it’s gonna be challenging winning that bear, and you have to concentrate. 

“Okay…” You take a deep breath and get into position, turning towards again Beomgyu and squeaking a quick ‘pray for me’ before you look back and start shooting. 

And damn, you’re a lousy shot. 

At the start, the cans are all lined up next to each other so you manage to fell a lot of them just by generally shooting in their direction, but as their numbers dwindle, you start completely missing them. 

“Baby, you’re trying to shoot the cans, not the other patrons.” Beomgyu quips and you glare at him, almost shooting him too, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Just saying.” 

“Well, don’t say.” You grit, missing even more shots. 

“Damn it!” You exclaim in frustration, seeing your chances go down with each missed shot, and eventually running out of ammo. “Ughhhhh.” 

“Cheer up, baby. You tried your best.” Beomgyu tries to comfort you, “You just–”

“I wanna try again.” You proclaim, smacking more tickets down on the counter and gesturing for the worker to reload your gun before trying again. 

And again. And again. And again. Each time failing more miserably than the last, the frustration getting to you. 

“Baby, we’re running out of money here. Soon, I’m gonna have to sell my kidney to give you arcade money.” Beomgyu appeals to you once more, urging you to give up.

“Fine!” You give a huge sigh, finally handing over the gun sadly. “I just really wanted it.” 

“Why? We have a million teddy bears at home.” 

“I know but I wanted that one.” You pout, moving a finger across his chest coyly. “Can you try to win it for me?”

“Babe–”

“Pretty, please.” You turn on the puppy-dog eyes that you know have been very effective on him in the past.

He sighs, looking defeated. “You know I would do anything for you.” 

“Yes! Works every time.” You congratulate yourself, preparing to watch your pacifist boyfriend flounder just like you did, but planning to enjoy anyway. 

Except he doesn’t. To your absolute shock, Beomgyu clears the game on the first try. 

“Wow, you’re really good at this.” You clap, amazed, and give him a big hug. “When did you learn this?”

“Oh. I used to play this game a lot as a kid.” Funnily enough, you feel like you’ve watched him do this before. Maybe it was in one of your prince dreams…

“See? And you didn’t become a violent psychopath. You were worrying for nothing.” You tease him, holding your hard-earned teddy bear up and giddily spinning around with it. 

“Excuse me.” A small voice calls out, halting your merriment and you look down to see the most adorable child tugging at your skirt. Well, you see a blurry, double vision of an adorable child as your poor brain tries to recover from the celebratory spinning. 

“Oh, hello. Aren’t you just the cutest thing?” You gush. “What’s your name?” 

“Ben.” He says, and Beomgyu gasps, equally as dramatic as you. “Well, that is just the cutest name ever.” 

“Thank you.” Ben plays with his fingers and swings shyly from one foot to the other. 

“Are you lost, Ben?” Beomgyu asks, getting down to his knees in front of the child. “Where is your mommy?” 

The child points off somewhere.

“Do you want us to take you to her?” You ask, but he shakes his head. “No. I just wanted to say that… that I like your bear and and–can we trade? You can have my toy instead!” He presents you with a small bright orange and yellow toy truck.  

“Aw, you cheeky little thing.” Beomgyu tuts, “That is very generous, but I just won this for the pretty lady and I think she wants to keep itt.” 

You do. You really want to keep it. But Ben looks so disappointed at hearing that, that you don’t have the heart to refuse him for long. 

“That’s okay, Gyu. He can have it.” You intervene, and Beomgyu raises an eyebrow at you skeptically. “Are you sure? You made such a fuss about it.” 

You shoot him a glare. “I know but he’s a kid and he wants it.” 

“The way you were acting earlier, one could’ve easily mistaken you for a kid too.” He mumbles and you smack the back of his head in indignation. “Hey!” 

The sound of Ben’s purely ecstatic laughter at what you did grabs both your attention and prevents you from further squabbling. 

“You like seeing me smack the stupid man?” You raise your hand towards Beomgyu threateningly and he cowers dramatically. “I stand corrected. I shouldn’t have been worrying about kids learning violence from games when they can just learn it from people like you.” 

“Aw, you wound me, baby.” You let your hand down to smooth down his hair affectionately. “This is just a tried and true discipline technique. I’ll show you more when we get home.” You give him a wink and he blushes. 

“Alright, let’s take you to your mum.” You announce to the kid, handing him the toy bear and giggling at the way he struggles to walk while holding the giant thing. 

When you’re within sight of his mother, she calls out, relieved. “Ben! There you are!” She runs to hug him. Or tries to hug him but she can’t really with the stuffed animal in the way. “Where did you get that teddy bear from?”

“We gave it to him.” You explained happily and she gasps, turning to scold him. “Did you ask them to give it to you? You know I told you you to stop doing that. It’s not polite—He’s always asking strangers for things, pretending to be all cute and innocent to swindle people out of their belongings. It’s really not nice… or safe!” She explains to you, before turning back to her son. “Now give the bear back to the nice couple.” 

“But I don’t wanna!” He throws a tantrum, and you and Beomgyu exchange an amused look. 

So the little rascal was playing you. Well done. 

“That’s fine. He can keep it.” You tell his mum, but she won’t hear it. “Not, it’s not. You don’t have to–”

“We want to.” You reassure her, and Ben looks at his mother expectantly, his little face praying that she’d allow him to keep the bear and she sighs. “Fine. Though you’re only enforcing bad habits.” She gives you both a stern look and Beomgyu gives a small apologetic bow. “We’re sorry, ma’am.” 

You fight to contain your giggles as she turns to her son. “What do we say, Ben?”

“Thank you!” He chirps happily. 

“You’re welcome.” You both laugh. “Enjoy it.”

“I will!”  

“See you, Ben.” Beomgyu crouches down to say goodbye to him, raising his hand up so Ben can give him a high five, which he does enthusiastically.  

“Bye.” You wave goodbye to Ben and his mum, walking away with Beomgyu. 

Seeing how sweet Beomgyu was with Ben… how naturally he acted and how at ease the kid was with him… it made you yearn for things you can’t have. It made you want to have that–to have a child that is yours and Beomgyu’s. But you can’t ask him that of him, not after what he told you, not for a while, at least. 

Too preoccupied with the thoughts, you don’t think to hide them from Beomgyu, and he quickly notices the shift in your mood. 

“What?” Beomgyy asks, and you look at him in confusion, so he explains, “You’ve been quiet for a while.”

“Oh.” You blink away the tears from your eyes, not even having realized they had gathered there, silently fighting against the weird emptiness that seeing him interacting with the child has opened up in you. “Nothing. I'm just suddenly really tired. Let's go home."

You can tell he doesn’t buy your excuse. “Did you want the bear? You know you could’ve said–”

“No. No. It’s not that, really. I just…” You trail off and a look of realization comes over his face. You quickly add on, “Beomgyu, it’s really nothing. Let’s just go home, okay?” 

Still, he doesn’t believe it. But he gathers you in his arms anyway and gives you a sweet peck on the lips. “Okay.”

He’ll always give you what you want. 

_________________________________

“You can be so good to me. Why do you have to be such an ass sometimes?” You murmur against his lips.

“I just can’t afford to lose you–ah–” He trails off in a moan as you continue to ride him. 

"You really will do anything to keep me, huh?" You clench around him, making him automatically buck under you. “Ah-ah-ah, I said no moving, baby.” 

"Yes, darling.” His hands fist at the sheets in an effort to keep his body from reacting to the way you’re fucking him so tortuously. 

“Call me princess. I liked it when you did that.” 

“Baby…” He protests, and you move your hands up his torso to brush your thumbs across his nipples before you bend down and lick one. “Come on, my prince, you said you’ll do anything for me.” 

“Yes, princess.” You could practically feel his cock twitching inside you as you let go of his nipple with a pop to sit back and properly ride him, really quickening your pace to reward him for his compliance. 

It’s so easy to get Beomgyu to do what you want. He’ll bend over backwards to keep you happy. He just gets too in his head sometimes and starts getting paranoid so you need to shut his brain down. 

And shut down it is, right now. He’s entirely under your mercy, laying down for you to ravage him and loving every second of it. “Oh god. Close, princess. So close.” 

“Don’t cum yet.” 

“Please, I can’t.” He croaks. Oh, how you love to see him struggle. It’s like a drug to you, seeing how much he needs you. 

“Hold it.” You pant, bouncing on top of him, intent to push him right to the edge, and when you feel like he’s about to fall over it, you quickly get off him, his red cock smacking against his tummy, dribbling precum as it twitches from the denial. 

“Fuck… fuck…” Beomgyu curses, his body entirely wound up from the pent up frustration and lust. 

"Shhh." You hush him with a kiss that he hungrily reciprocates, the wet sounds of lips and tongues meeting echoing around the room. When you pull back his lips are shiny with spit and his eyes are drowning with need. But he never reaches out for you, never tries to take what he wants. Your pretty prince. 

You lean forward to open up the bedside table, taking out your vibrator. Beomgyu stares, wide-eyed, as you grab his cock and sink down on it once again. But this time instead of riding him, you swivel your hips around and turn on the vibrator, pressing it to your clit.

“Oh, you’re going to kill me.” He groans, squirming under you as the vibrations and the way your cunt is clenching around him build his high up once again..

"No cumming until I do." You order, and he’s unable to keep his hands to himself anymore, choosing instead to grab at your thighs, his body needing to latch onto yours–just holding onto you to keep him tethered, never forcing you to give him more no matter how much he wants it. 

"I don’t know if I can hold it.” 

"You will. Or do you need me to put a cock ring on you?" You threaten, but the small involuntary thrust of his hips surprise you. “Oh, you would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I like anything you do to me.” He confesses, making your skin tingle. 

You grind on him faster, moving the vibrator up and down your slit, feeling your release looming near. 

“Oh my fucking god, princess, please.” 

"What is it, baby?” You gasp, thighs starting to spasm from the impending orgasm. “You wanna cum?"

"Uh-huh." He whimpers pitifully like a dog begging for his master to reward him. “You know, I do.” 

Of course, you do. It’s so obvious, he’s practically on the verge of crying, but it’s always so fun to tease him about it. 

"But I thought you said you'd let me do whatever I wanted to you, and I like keeping you on the edge. Love seeing you go all dumb for my pussy." You pout, acting like you’re upset and he eats it all up. 

"I’m sorry… I just need it." He cries, head thrown back and his nails digging into your skin. "Close–so close–please–oh god, please—"

“Cum for me, gyu. Fill me up.” You finally have mercy on him, taking the vibrator away as your pussy clenches around him, milking him of his seed as you hurl over the edge. 

“Yes—oh, princess–ahhh–” He holds your hips and ruts up into you, releasing his cum inside you and filling you up just like you wanted. 

It takes you both a while to come down from your orgasms, the delayed gratification bringing out a very intense high. But when you do, he pulls you down to him, wrapping you safely in his arms. 

“I’m sorry for being so crazy lately. I just love you so much.” He presses a kiss against your damp forehead. 

“I know, baby. I love you too.” You reciprocate fully, but as the high wears off, doubt starts to set back in. “But you can’t keep acting that way. I am not going to cheat on you with Taehyun and it hurts me that you would even doubt that.” 

“I’m sorry, it’s just… my ex. She–”

“Let me guess, cheated on you.” You roll your eyes, not meaning to diminish his pain but you just hate his ex so much. “But baby, I’m not her. I love you. Only you.” 

“I know, but… it would just make me feel better if you didn’t talk to him.” 

“He’s my co-worker, I have to talk to him.” 

“Plenty of people don’t talk to their co-workers. In fact plenty of people maintain a very healthy mutual animosity with their coworkers. I think you should try that.” 

“Beomgyu.” You deadpan, exasperation clear in your tone. 

“Fine. I’ll try to tone it down.” 

“Thank you. I really don’t want to… lose you.” 

He frowns, pushing you back so he can fully see your face. “You won’t. You will never lose me.” He says it with absolute certainty, and maybe his promise was meant to sound reassuring, but something about the way he said it makes you shiver. 

“Are you cold, baby?” He asks, concerned. 

“I… I guess.” 

“Come here.” He pulls you down into his arms, wrapping you up in that warm embrace that seems to always make you forget about all the wrong he’s done. When you’re in his arms, it’s like the world slips away and it’s just you and him and the love you have for each other. None of those troubling thoughts can reach you here, none of the doubts. 

Just you and him. Forever. 

_____________________________________

“Don’t talk to her that way.” Beomgyu snarls at Taehyun, looking like he is going to spring forward and attack him but you hold onto him tightly.  

“Beomgyu, stay. Let me talk to him alone.” You whisper to him but he shakes his head. “No.” 

You lean closer to him so only he can hear you. “Come on, Beomgyu, we had a deal. Anything you want after, just let me talk to him.” 

He throws a hateful look towards Taehyun, obviously not happy with what’s happening, before he looks back at you and pulls you into a sudden kiss. Your hands shoot up to his chest, trying to push him away but his own hands hold onto you, one grabbing the back of your head and the other squeezing your ass. 

“My lord, this is not proper.” You hear someone reprimand, making you flush with humiliation and reminding you that you have more than one witness to Beomgyu’s mortifying display of ownership over you. 

“I can still taste my cock on your tongue, princess.” Beomgyu says loudly enough for Taehyun to hear before finally letting you pull away, ignoring your incensed look in favor of smirking at Taehyun. You follow his gaze to find that Taehyun looks to be seconds away from exploding. 

“Fucking stay here.” You grit out at Beomgyu, your outrage giving you the strength you need to make your way towards Taehyun without trembling anymore. 

“Is this what you left me for? Just to go back to being treated like a piece of meat?” Taehyun denounces in disgust once you’re standing in front of him. 

Left him for? What?

It is at that moment that you wake up from your dream, filled with feelings of shame, disgust and guilt. 

Now what could this mean? If Taehyun is right and your dreams are meant to express your discomfort with the way Beomgyu is treating you, then why are you dreaming that you and Taehyun were together? Are you completely overthinking this? Is it just weird dream happenstance? 

You mean, it did mirror what happened earlier with Beomgyu kissing you in front of everyone so maybe that’s what your mind was going for and it just started acting wonky the way brains on dreams do. 

But why, as always, does it feel so devastatingly real? Why do you still feel like you’ve betrayed Taehyun somehow? 

_________________________________________

A/N: our dear old crazy possessive beomgyu ❤️😂

[everybodyshusband]

kinktober ; day five, lingerie ❤︎ dew/aurora

contains: t4t, ballet/human au, there's a character called dewdrop in the nutcracker and i couldn't not take the opportunity, ballet costumes count as lingerie if you're horny enough

approx. 1.4k words. ghostober prompt list compiled by @kroas-adtam and a BIG thank you to @wrathofrats for helping me figure out how to start this nuisance of a fic <3 she also made the pretty dividers i'm using !!

Sweat pours off of Dew’s forehead as he finally runs offstage to retreat behind the curtain. His legs ache, skin too hot beneath his tights and feet well on their way to cramping in his pointe shoes. He grabs for the water he keeps sidestage and gulps down as much of it as he can in the few seconds he has before the director inevitably accuses him of blocking the wings. He always feels like this after these intense performances, his costume all of the sudden becoming a little too restricting, a film of his sweat film clinging to his skin which he’s sure will make him cringe once he’s rested enough to be able to breathe evenly again.

Most nights Dew finds his grin falling off of his face the moment he steps offstage, but tonight, he finds as he runs through the wings, is an exception. Tonight, he and Aurora have been assigned the same dressing room and have already made their plans for how to fill in their time before bows.

He smiles as he passes row upon row of costumes all set out for backstage quick changes as he makes his way down the wide corridor, his gait clunky and duck-footed as he attempts to walk comfortably in his point shoes. The Nutcracker costumes have always been some of his favourites and the Dewdrop one he’s wearing is no exception—and yes, he’s well aware of the irony of his character’s name. The bodice is a pale peach with pink boning running down the length of it, and Dew can feel the boning contract and expand as he continues to breathe heavily. Small beads that look like droplets of water are littered all over the top  of the bodice in two delicate rows. The least annoying part of the thing, his favourite, is the flowing tulle skirt. It’s the same peachy pink as the top with ruffles coming to form a V at his pelvis. It accentuates his waist perfectly, fanning out as he dances across the stage to make sure he looks graceful in his leaps and twirls. It floats as he turns, layers of fabric breathing an air of weightlessness into him. The whole thing is tied off with a bundle of small flowers sitting on the right side of his hip and framed by even more ruffles. He looks pretty, as delicate as the flower his role commands him to be.

Pushing open the door to his and Aurora’s dressing room reveals that he’s the first one of the pair to arrive. It makes sense, she’s one of the flowers that dances with him during his big scene, but she’s still got one more dance to be a part of before she’s free for the night. Luckily for the sake of Dew’s boredom, she should be done and on her way to their dressing room soon.

With a wheezed out sigh, he waddles over to his vanity and immediately collapses onto his chair. He pats his hand across the bench with one hand to blindly feel for his inhaler while he hastily undoes the laces of his pointe shoes. He finds it and is able to take an awkward one handed puff from it, but not before he feels a slip of paper on the bench that he hadn’t spotted upon walking in. Dew knows that he definitely didn’t put it there, so the only other culprit is Aurora and that hypothesis is proven true as soon as Dew has pulled his shoes off and is able to have a read.

dewy, it reads, barely legible in pink, sparkly ink and what Dew hopes for Aurora’s sake is her messiest handwriting.

you’ve been working so hard all week to rehearse offstage, even though you know you get enough practice of your variation every night onstage. i just know you’re gonna kill it tonight. don’t you dare take your costume off before i get there, i’m gonna help you relax.

love, rora xx

Dew raises an eyebrow at the note. While most of what Aurora says in her note is true—he definitely has been dutifully practising his Dewdrop variation at every chance he can since they opened The Nutcracker at the beginning of the week—but other parts… Well, he has his doubts. Primarily, he’s not entirely sure that whatever Aurora plans to do to derail their card game plans for the rest of the evening will consist of getting him to relax, at least not in the traditional sense.

His suspicions are almost immediately confirmed the moment Aurora steps into the dressing room, flicking the lock on the door with a mischievous grin on her face. “Hiya, Dewy,” she smiles, sounding infuriatingly put-together despite having just come off the stage. Her pointe shoes are already off of her feet, tied loosely at the laces and hanging from her hand, bumping against the tiered pink tulle of her skirt.

Dew only gets as far as opening his mouth to reply before Aurora has crossed the room and pressed him up against his vanity, her lips on his, moaning softly. Her chest heaves as she kisses him, one hand on his waist, the other supporting herself against the counter. “Did so well out there tonight, Dewy,” she mumbles against his lips. “Looked so pretty flitting about out there. Could barely focus on my own steps, was too busy watching yours.”

Dew feels his cheeks heat up with a fierce blush and elects to shut Aurora up by surging forward and recapturing their lips together with enough force that they both let out a noise somewhere in between a protest and a moan. They stay like that for a while, until Aurora eventually loses patience and spins Dew around, forcing him to brace himself against the vanity.

He meets her eye in the mirror, chest heaving and cunt clenching around nothing as she grins at him, something almost predatorial in her reflection. There’s a short pause before Aurora speaks again.

“...You’ve got spare tights for the other performances, right?”

“Uh, yeah, duh,” Dew replies, wholly confused. “Why–? Fuck!” He interrupts himself as Aurora drops to her knees and pulls the crotch of his leotard to the side, using her nails to tear into his tights, ripping a hole that exposes him entirely. “Rory!”

“What? I checked you had spares…” Dew can hear the smile in her voice and catches a glimpse of his own expression of endearment in the mirror. That expression quickly morphs into something else as Aurora digs her hands into ass to hold him in place as she licks a stripe over his cunt, humming happily as she tastes how wet he is under her tongue.

His eyes squeeze shut as his mouth drops open, gasping out a quiet moan as one of Aurora’s hands sneaks around his front to flick at his clit. “Shit, Rory,” he sighs.

She giggles against his cunt, the vibrations from her laugh pulling yet another moan out of Dew as she continues to lap at him eagerly. He whines as she pulls off to speak. “Oh, by the way,” she starts. “I invited Rain and Cirrus over once they’re done with the Pas de Deux, which should be in…” He sees her head tilt to the side in the mirror as she glances at the clock and stage screen on the wall of their dressing room. “In maybe less than five minutes. You can cum that fast, right?”

A minute ago, Dewdrop’s answer would have been a steadfast and resounding no, but now that Aurora’s diving back in—seemingly determined to eat him out with as much vigour as she usually devours her after-show hamburger and chips—he thinks his answer might have changed. Although as he thinks about it, even if he can’t manage to reach orgasm before Rain and Cirrus arrive, it’s nothing they haven’t seen before, and he knows they’ll certainly be willing to lend a helping hand. But whatever happens in a few minutes is still up to chance. For now, all Dew has to do is close his eyes and enjoy that thing Aurora does with her tongue that she’s so good at. He lets his head tip forward as he moans once again, more than content to let Aurora have her way with him until the final bows.

this is the version of the dewdrop costume i've been envisioning for this by the way !! it's the NYCB costume :)

also because i'm a little insane about ballet, this is the link to the performance i watched over and over again while writing this lmao

[clairehadenough]

Ugh….you and your receipts all day every day 😩

Why are you devoting time and energy, writing paragraphs long dissertations to convince a bunch of "delulus?"

You and you're little friends are the ones who are "scared shitless". No one secure in the truth would try so hard to convince people who they have deemed insignificant.

I predict nothing but disaster and tragedy for everyone connected to this travesty of an idea.

#Maddy #Capoteera #Lonesome #Claire #TouchGrass #DrHiddles #Chris #Abba #Justin #Joana #Bryan #Jamie #Scott

LooooooL, just found this😂

Do you really think, like really really think, that our blogs are created to “convince” the delulus and hope that they’d change their minds?

Oh honey😂😂

I couldn’t give a fuck if any of those very disturbing blogs are convinced or not. In fact I’d like them to stay where they are, I would feel very weird having them on my side lol.

I’ll explain to you like you’re 5, because I doubt your brain has developed further anyway. It’s gonna be long though so I’m not sure if you can read this much. Just do your best, ok? ☺️

I’ve said this from the very beginning. Those blogs with their jealousy and complete unawareness of reality, have fucked up this fandom. What was once a fun place to be has become a dumpster where they throw their shitty theories and ideas. The fandom is already ruined. By them. That’s why some don’t bother anymore. They’re still Chris’ fans but would rather just follow from a distance now, instead of being his fans on apps like this very one.

I, on the other hand, hate it when idiots are given too much freedom without anyone humbling them. Enter my blog. You say lies? I show everyone who sees them that you’re lying and why. You make up accusations? I show everyone who hears them why they are wrong. Always with receipts, always with proofs. So do most of the other sane blogs on here.

We don’t expect the big delulus to change their mind, nor do we want them to😂 We’ve seen enough of the other fandoms to know that those we have here haven’t reached the worst level yet.

No. Our blogs are here

1) not to let idiots spread their crap without anyone showing they’re wrong. Imagine if Tr*mp’s lies in rallies or tweets were never exposed. That would be the same, albeit on a much smaller scale and in a much less impactful environment.

2) to give very gullible people the chance to see things how they really are and give them the opportunity to use their brains. Don’t you see how people get insulted when they ask questions on those blogs? They are not allowed to use logic because then the crazies’ theories wouldn’t be believable if they did.

We’ve had lots of people coming to us from “the other side” telling us they can see how gullible they were. We have daily anons full of hate and l anger from the crazies showing how much our blogs are annoying them. And these two facts are enough proof for us that our blogs are succeeding in what they were created for.

The delulus could keep believing whatever they want for however long they want. Nobody gives a single flying fuck. Our blogs were never for them anyway 😂

I’m not sure you read all this because it clearly shows from your ask that reading is not your forte.

But might as well let the other haters know too so they don’t bother send me the same sad anons asking about the same thing again😉

[chloeangelic]

Why does it seem like everything you've put out lately is just trying to rip off netherfeildren? Like the art, the plots, the aesthetics... Especially weird since you used to seem to always hype them up

I went back and forth on responding to this but I’ve decided to because I don’t appreciate having my integrity questioned. I kind of expected that I'd get something like this because there are some thematic similarities between Seeking and SWITBOSH. However, I won’t respond publicly to anything else like this cause I think we’re all very over The Discourse, and tbh it’s a massive fucking insult to accuse me of ripping someone off when I’ve spent seven months writing ca 200k words of fic and developing my own unique style of writing. If you can’t see the difference between two writers, just because they write emotional depth and full sentences, then please read an actual book and not just brainrot fic. I’m gonna properly address everything under the cut - anon domming is back on the menu today. 

That being said, because this feels weird and uncomfortable for me and likely for Vic, I’m turning off anons for the time being and I’m taking a posting break to decide whether I want to continue posting here at all or continue posting purely on AO3. I post there anyways under the same name. If you still have a bone to pick with me or my writing, please message me directly. Please do NOT pester Vic about this, I know very well that she does not enjoy The Discourse or any sort of drama. Everyone is sick of the copying discourse - please have some trust in writers’ self awareness. 

Firstly, the words “recently” and “plots” should be defined here - I personally don’t see how stepdaddy Joel, pornstar Tim, sex addict Dieter, baby daddy Javi or any of Love Me back is similar to her works at all. The Seeking teaser I posted yesterday was similar to her Pink teasers purely because it had text on a photo - my text wasn’t even from the fic, it was a quote that represented the series as a whole and the quote that finally made the series crystallize in my head. It’s the quote I want people to have in the back of their mind when they go into reading it - it’s from the song that I consider the series theme. Our formatting is not the same. Yes, I have quotes at the beginning of the chapters - my friend sent me a bunch of poems and a couple, I felt were relevant to the story so I wanted to add them somehow. Several writers do this. I stopped putting in previews above the cut cause it was making it difficult for me to write the beginning of the chapters. My masterlist art is the same as, like.. Everyone’s else’s masterlist post - the norm on here is to have an artwork from Pinterest, the title slapped on top and the writer’s name. I literally just loved Pascalisbaby’s masterlist art so much I decided to do it too. 

When you say plots, I’m assuming you’re drawing parallels between Seeking what is desirable and Someone’s Wife in the Boat of Someone’s Husband because cheater!Joel (or maybe even Pink cause DDLG, but I’m literally in a DDLG-type dynamic irl and I decided to incorporate it into a fic for once - there were CLEAR ddlg undertones in Love Me Back, it just wasn’t explicit. I also wrote several chapters of Seeking before Pink even came out, and I wrote a cheating + father in law oneshot this summer). 

The MC in Seeking is based on myself and my own life, moving away from my parents in order to live with my boyfriend at the time very far away, who ended up being extremely absent and shitty. MC+Jeremiah relationship is based on Adam and Hermine from EXIT, Jeremiah is based on Tony Soprano, Gwen is based on Janice Soprano + a story I heard from my cousin about how his wife let him do all the childcare while she went on a women’s retreat. They are not in a marriage of convenience, the MC doesn’t feel bad about the affair at all, she never pushes him away, and Gwen has no plans on leaving. Sarah and Ellie are both 16 and living with Joel in Seeking. The MC does not have similarities to Sarah like she does in Love Me Back (which was also literally based on my own life) or Someone’s.

MC is a teacher who cheats with Joel - so is the MC in my post outbreak series I wrote many months ago. They're drawn to each other immediately cause I hate slow burn fics and I didn't feel like writing two chapters of him fucking someone else this time around. She goes out intending to cheat, and he thinks it'll sustain him for the next several years. The first thing I thought up in this entire series was Jeremiah - I had his character crystallized in my head for weeks before I planned anything else.

Of course Joel is unhappy in his marriage - neither Vic or myself would write a Joel who cheats for fun, that’s just not something either of us finds interesting. It actually started as a Sopranos AU, but I decided against going that route cause I don’t know enough about white collar crime. Also, if you are familiar with my writing you’ll know I love writing infidelity - it shouldn’t be a surprise that I’m writing a series with this as the central theme. The central question for Seeking is when is it okay to cheat? That’s what the entire fic is about. It’s not about him finding the love of his life after marrying someone else (like the summary of Someone’s), it’s about two instances of cheating and how we justify those two scenarios. Of course it has a happy ending - I’ve used up my non-happy ending quota for the year. 

I’m not sure what you mean by aesthetics - Vic actually edits really nice graphics for all of her Mando chapters. She spends a bunch of time on those, and you’re doing a disservice to her by overlooking how unique her artwork is and how much effort it takes. She also made really cool teasers for Pink. I’m way too lazy for any of that, I just slam a moodboard together. I started doing 3 slot moodboards cause the 6-7 slot ones were a hassle. The fact that only art pieces are used in this series is half coincidence, half me being sick of trying to fit Pedro pics into the moodboards when the colors are often wrong. 

I literally texted with her when I planned this series, saying I was afraid people would accuse it of being a ripoff of Someone’s, purely due to the Joel infidelity + uninterested wife factor, and she did not think the overall plot was similar enough to be of concern. I still hype her up, she just doesn’t post as often now so I don’t reblog as often, that’s pretty simple. I’ve also asked Iris, my editor, SEVERAL TIMES if it reads too similar to Someone’s or anything Vic has written - she is extremely familiar with both of our works and she did not think so. What exactly am I supposed to do when I’ve gotten the green light from everyone? 

This specific anon didn’t mention the actual writing, though, which is funny and it makes sense because I don’t write like Vic and I don’t try to. Her vocabulary is way larger than mine, the diction and syntax are not similar at all. She actually uses metaphors, I use them very rarely and only when it’s super dramatic. My writing isn’t poetic, it’s not flowery, it’s not formal - it’s literally just how I think inside my own head. When I read my own writing, I imagine Charles Gross doing a dramatic reading. I learn like one new word every month and eventually I’ll add it to my writing when it’s something I’m confident using irl. She has a lot of depth to her fics, I also try to write with emotional depth - I’m sorry if that’s unfamiliar in a landscape of dbf porn with no plot and 5 word sentences (I’m shading my own first series here). Seeking reads more similar to the first series I ever wrote, which I never posted, than anything else I’ve written. Half of Seeking is also straight up daydreaming sequences cause that’s literally how I think - the MC lives a boring life and daydreams, so do I. 

I’ve learned a ton from reading Vic’s stuff - I don’t read that much irl cause I rarely find English novels captivating, but her writing has really made an impression on me. I talk constantly about how much her writing makes me cry, and it really does. Reading her stuff has absolutely influenced me to be more confident about weaving in actions and little plot points that are more vulnerable and personal to myself, and that adds a lot of depth it otherwise wouldn’t. I’m very inspired by her, of course I am - but I know the difference between being inspired and trying to leech. 

I’m sorry my writing style has developed. I’m sorry I no longer write like I did in April, with matter-of-factly short sentences and little emotional depth. I have short series and long series because some plots deserve more emotional depth and some don’t need it. I wouldn’t bother writing anymore if all I did was shady lawyer Joel or Father Joel and I never improved. 

If you don’t enjoy my writing, please just unfollow. I’ve seen other fics on this platform that read similar to mine, some that have exactly the same plot points/origin stories, and at no point have I thought they were ripping me off. At some point, this specific fandom needs to realize that it’s possible for two writers to have similar ideas without it being one person copying the other. My personal opinion is that if you copy someone’s plot, you won’t be able to execute it well because you don’t have the ideas necessary to actually flesh it out. If you’re familiar with my writing, you know damn well I’m capable of coming up with my own ideas and plots. I feel zero need to rip other people's in order to gain traction - I have enough followers and idgaf how many notes anything gets. Please don’t overestimate my ability to give a fuck about my popularity in this fandom. 

Anyways, thanks for making me want to vomit, anon, you truly made me feel like shit today and I hope you have a great night! I’m not sure how much I’ll be checking tumblr for a while so feel free to message me on discord under the same name.

[sitp-recs]

Fandom creators self rec game! Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.

Hello beloved! It’s always a privilege to see you in my inbox, thank you so much for this lovely ask and apologies for taking two centuries to reply lol this was a quite emotional trip down memory lane for me - I couldn’t decide whether to go with rec lists or single recs (oof I haven’t written one in so long 🥲) because they’re both so different and special in their own way. In the end I’m gonna do lists because I think they’re generally more helpful and popular! I’ve been going through a creative / fandom slump for a while now, so this was great encouragement as it made me look back at my own recs with joy and kindness. Thank you babes 💜

1. I actually still love the Drarry for Beginners series! Fun story, I wasn’t very confident about it at first - I was getting many requests for a classics rec list back then but I don’t really vibe with the “MUST read these or you’re not a valid fandom member” mentality so I tried to come up with a different format that felt more like an invitation than a lecture. I think I found a good balance of well known fics and hidden gems, so I’m very proud of that. Also, the banners looked really good! Especially the redemption arc and the Muggle!Draco AU ones if I do say so myself.

2. The Hidden Gems series is also one of my most precious babies - it took me a long time to plan it out, read all fics and prepare the small blurbs for each one and I really love how it came across, the authors I chose to highlight, and the fact that I was able to mix Drarry and rare pairs. I remember getting an ask back in the day that accused me of only reccing my friends (anon really overestimated my network size 🤣), they could have at least checked the hidden gem series before going for public embarrassment lol there’s so much to explore there, and I really wanna come back to it one day to finalize the second edition that I started posting in 2022. Hopefully this year!

3. 35 Romantic Shorts: my heart is so very soft for this one, not only because the ever generous @bluebutter-art has let me use her stunning art for the banner, but I’m also such a passionate champion of short form and I feel like this list really embraced the concept and delivered great recs. I’m not a fluff gal by any standards so this was a nice exercise finding the softest, most romantic and soothing reads that made my heart beat faster. It would be lovely to go back and maybe add a couple more lists with new shorts, or alternatively make new lists for medium-length and long fics. So many ideas, so little time!

4. It feels like a lifetime ago but I’m still very fond of my “smutty recs week” that I made to celebrate one of my first followers milestone. Ahh the nostalgia! All lists can be found here and include a wide variety of themes and kinks like voyeurism, dirty talk, gang bang and others. Those banners are some of my favourites too, they turned out very sassy and clever if I do say so myself. I had so much fun with them! I gotta find the time to sit down and update some of those lists with newer treats!

5. Now highlighting something more recent (from Feb 2023… LOL) I’m super proud of my Rare Pair Romance list for Valentine’s Day. It was a great chance to compile (most of) my favorite rare pair fics in one place and include different ships and tropes. I’m always looking for an excuse to rec het pairings which I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, so this was the perfect way to do it.

[katieaki]

My ✨ post-apocalyptic Lesbian Cowgirl Mailman choose-your-own adventure✨ has just updated! Read it here for free on my Patreon and vote in the poll! There is a summary of the first part, here, and the second part, here. They have everything you need to know about Lou, her requited-but-complicated love, the religious assassin who just beat the tar out of her, the worst person she's ever met, and the ill-advised journey she is on! There is also now a discord where Pony Express readers from all across god's green internet can gather, here!

Ladies, ladies please, maybe we'll all just feel a little better after a good night's rest! No? We're gonna spitefully encourage one another to make blood offerings and accuse each other of looking at the other's boobs in the locker room? What are you, gay or something?? Okay. That's fine too.

Read it for free on my patreon! Excerpt below the cut.

(Holliday headshot (signed)) and two outfits from this update: Skylark (hungover) and Lou (cozy)

“Look here, they can’t kill you,” Lou said, ignoring Skylark’s obvious attempt to shift Lou’s focus to her instead. 

“It’s church shit, Lou,” Artie said through sobs, her back still turned. “Go to sleep.”

“Just for this?” Lou said, lifting her hurt arm up. “It’s just my arm. Just one arm on one random mail girl. I’m fine. They can’t fucking kill you just for beating me up.”

Artie laughed and turned to face her. Her nose and lips were puffy from crying. “They can do whatever they want, Lou! They’re our god!” Artie said. Lou had been on the other end of an attack by her, and while that had made her afraid for her life, Artie hadn’t seemed at all uncontrolled then. This was different. She was agitated, frantic. Instead of the pinpoint focus Lou was used to from her there was the sensation that she was rapidly losing her grip on a tightly bottled frenzy. She kicked over the other tin cup of pine-sol as she gestured emphatically. Skylark winced at the sound. “I swore my life to them, it’s theirs. And I hurt you. You weren’t even involved and I hurt you for no reason. Bad. It’s their duty to give me the punishment I deserve. If they don’t teach us, then no one will learn.”

“But they–”

“They what?” Artie asked, throwing her arms out in the night air. She was still crying, but her nostrils were flared in anger, too. “You’re gonna tell Johnny Knives what they can and can’t do to their disciples?”

Lou set her jaw. “If I have to,” she said. She didn’t know where this conviction had come from all of a sudden, but she felt it. This is why she always got herself into trouble. She was always, always ready to talk big and sometimes people made you back it up.

Artie laughed again, hard enough that she seemed to stop crying. “Alright,” she said. “Go for it, cowgirl. I’m sure it’ll go exactly as you’re expecting. You can borrow my knife to cut your palm.”

“I have my own knife,” Lou said. “Y’all didn’t invent knives.”

“Great. Go ahead then. Get on your knees. Pray. Let’s see you spill some of that beautiful, clean ath-a-lete’s blood,” Artie said. She beckoned Lou and the recent scab across her own palm was cast into sharp relief by the firelight.

“Liked it so much last time that you want another look, huh?” Lou said.