#I hate it when people make me wanna defend people I don’t like

[thatscrazyrandom]

Why do the commentators want Oscar & Lando to hate each other so bad?

[lewisvinga]

that’s my girl | lance stroll x fem! reader

summary; lance’s fans hated y/n for her personality and willingness to defend him and herself at any cost. however, their views on her change when a fan meets her and posts all about it

fc; tara yummy

warnings; suggestive comments

taglist; @namgification

note; requested! i’ve been obsessed w tara yummy lately but yall my requests are closed atm, i’ll open them soon once i finish w the requests i have rn 😫 so pls bear w me n be patient 🙏

masterlist !

liked by lance_stroll, lilymhe, and others!

yourusername: my man bought me chanel. sick.

username: not her not tagging lance…

yourusername: don’t want people looking at what’s mine 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

lance_stroll: acting like you weren’t begging for a bag and a pair of shoes🤣

yourusername: not u exposing me 😩

lance_stroll: just telling the truth 🤫

lance_stroll: anything for my girl❤️

yourusername: wahhh

username: i wanna be like y/n

yourusername: to be like y/n, u gotta have the y/n mindset 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

username: she ate this tho icl

username: ugh i don’t like her, she’s such a gold digger and it’s so obvious

yourusername: gold digger is when girl receives bags from millionaire boyfriend🤕

username: she’s so ugly and unclassy, idk why lance is dating her

yourusername: you’re pretty unclassy, but while we’re at it, lance just made out w me 😁😁

lilymhe: WOWWWW you’re so hot i can treat u better than him

yourusername: i can treat u better than alex bae

liked by lance_stroll, carmenmmundt, and others

yourusername: i 🖤 st tropez

username: here she goes again w the not tagging him💀💀💀

yourusername: big deal , i’m literally sitting on him and he watched me post this 🥱🥱

username: THE SECOND PICTURE???? IS SO???😩😩😩😩😩

username: omg the second picture i’m gonna go crazy

username: who even took the last picture?

yourusername: my boyfriend 🔥

lance_stroll: beautiful as always😍

yourusername: gonna give you a big fat kiss

username: i actually like her but he’s all daddy’s money, she should date some other driver who earned his spot

yourusername: LMFAOOO, babe most drivers on the grid ARE nepo babies and come from rich families 💀 yall just mad that lawrence is a loving father 🤕🤕

username: she ate this one thing up

username: i love her idc attitude idk

username: i don’t! she’s so mean and disrespectful to lance’s fans, it’s so nasty

yourusername: no i just defend myself and lance, maybe if yall weren’t coming at my neck every 5 seconds i’d be nicer 🥱🥱

carmenmmundt: GORGEOUS 😍

yourusername: NOOO YOUU😩

liked by lance_stroll, yourusername, and others

f1wagupdates:

a fan met y/n l/n while in new york city! she said that y/n was super nice, complimented her outfit, and even introduced her to lance! turns out the black cat of the paddock is super sweet!

tagged; yourusername, lance_stroll

username: her smile :( she looks so sweet

username: ugh i love her idc what yall think

username: omg omg i was that girl, she even gave me her lip gloss bc i asked about the shade😩

yourusername: lmk what u think bb bc the formula is so chefs kiss

username: omg shes in nyc??? i need to meet her nowww

yourusername: for a couple more days, may or may not pop up in saks tmrw at noon🤭

username: y’all were just bitter she’s dating your fave!! y/n will always be her

username: u could never catch me hating on mother

yourusername: i promise you guys i’m not scary😩😩 i’ll just defend my man or myself whenever 🤷‍♀️

lance_stroll: y/n is the sweetest girl i’ve ever met. she’s made me the happiest man ever. hating on her means hating me. i would take legal action against some people who leave nasty comments but y/n’s against it. she’s the best girl i could ever ask for. liked by yourusername, f1wagupdates and others!

lance_stroll: but that’s my girl ❤️

lance_stroll: and that ladies and gentlemen is how to make the y/n l/n giggle

yourusername: STOP EXPOSING ME😖

[jewishrizahawkeye]

k so i made this poll awhile ago to answer my question on if people would rather spend a date with a swiftie or an anti-swiftie (someone who hates her and devotes their life to hating on her). i mentioned i didn’t have the spoons to handle it being longer than a day and know it was going to be biased as it would start in my circle and would work it’s way out, so i wanted to do a longer poll when i had the energy to handle a week long poll like that. (i’m assuming when i post this, as i’m pre making it, i’ll be in recovery from my nose surgery since i’ll be stuck at home a week so i’ll have more time to monitor and look at the tags)

so nows the time, but i’m going to addendum the question a bit:

*some extra things that came up on the original poll i didn’t elaborate on fully that i want to make clear:

- you don’t get a say in what type of swiftie you get. assume that you’re going to be spending the evening with someone who massively loves her and her music and wants to discuss it. they’ll talk about songs, their favorite lines and meanings, symbolism behind the reputation album, etc.

- YOU MUST TALK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT. even if it’s the anti-swiftie you must talk about her. i understand the sentiment people made on her not coming up, and that’s valid, but that’s not the question i’m asking. YOU HAVE TO SPEND THE EVENING WITH SOMEONE WHOS GOING TO TALK ABOUT TAYLOR SWIFT NONSTOP, WILL IT BE THE LOVER OR HATER?

- im just trying to gather a general consensus on this and want to get data from a lot of people which means this is going to end up on people’s blogs who probably hate swifties and are annoyed by them. that’s okay as that’s the point of my question. but if you’re going to go off in the tags about how much you hate her or hate swifties and be an asshole about it im blocking you. you can just simple say “i hate her/i hate swifties” and don’t need to elaborate. you don’t need to sit in the tags going off on how much you hate her and trying to “defend” yourself from swifties. i just want an answer to the question.

- ALSO, this is not an open poll to go harass anyone in general. if you are a swiftie and see an hater in the tags and wanna fight DON’T FUCKING DO IT. just block and go read/watch your favorite media and think of blorbos kissing or whatever, but DO NOT SEND HATE OR HARASS ANYONE.

the hypothesis im trying to prove is that people in general would much rather spend an evening with someone that is going to talk about something they love all night vs someone who will spend the evening talking about something they hate. i want to gather as much data as possible to get a good consensus and if you go and be an asshole to someone because of their tags on this poll, either side of the swiftie to anti-swiftie spectrum, your disproving the point. if you see tags you don’t like just simply block and carry on. understand? k good.

- in general this is not meant to be a very serious or heavy question. it’s meant to just let me pick people’s brains and see what they’d want to do. i just want to get my results and go. just vote, drop your opinion in the tags, and go.

- also, this last part is silly and not at all related to my data, but since i’m forcing you on a dinner date i’ll at least let you pick the restaurant and food you have. so if you could also say what restaurant/food choice you’d want and what you’d want to order i’d love to hear it. sky’s the limit here. go nutz or even very specific on what you’d want to eat. i am trying to learn to cook and don’t know a lot of recipes or different food types, so i’m hoping this will give me a bigger idea of what food is out there to make. (this question is not meant to be a way to stick it to anyone or for you to go “i’ll go to a shitty ass restaurant and take a swiftie/anti-swiftie and make them eat garbage 🤪”, it’s just a fun question to give people something positive to add to the poll if they want. AGAIN IF YOUR GOING TO BE AN ASSHOLE ILL BLOCK YOU.)

- i’m going to be annoying and ask that you reblog for a wider sample size and such, if you don’t want to that’s fine, but i’m going to be polite and ask you nicely.

that should be everything, thank you for reading my long ass list and voting in this poll. i hope you have a good day and such.

[moonsaurora]

i doubt anyone who hates them is going to watch this anyway, considering they don’t care about the truth, but if anyone watches this documentary and comes out of it still thinking their parents didn’t deserve what happened and more there’s truly no hope for you. some of yall are way too comfortable defending two pedos and a rapist

i wish they touched on the fact that kitty touched and did things with lyle also. like she was not just a bystander. she deserved it just as much

people are like “victims should be allowed to kill their abusers” until they actually do. yall want a “perfect victim” and in your eyes it’s a dead one. then when they’re dead you wanna talk about “oh *the abuser* deserved to be put to death”. yall piss me off so bad with that

yall go through all the absolutely HORRIFIC shit they did and tell me you wouldn’t want to kill the person who did it to you. taking away your childhood innocence, making you not feel like a real person. having a mental age of 8 at 18 because they treated you so bad. then people start feeling bad for the people who did that to you. all because you stopped it

[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

[heartsforvin]

bf vinnie x gf mom reader

reader visits the hype house for the first time with her daughter. None of them knew she had a baby besides vinnie(11 months ) from a toxic relationship before, mia starts to be bitchy toward reader on how shes using vinnie and vinnie defends her.

PROTECTER

GF!MOM READER AWH STOP , imma need more (or bf!dad vinnie) 😇

pairing: vinnie hacker x fem!gf!mom reader

warnings: cussing, use of pet names, arguing, use of y/n, lmk if i missed anything !!

summary: you visit the hype house to see your boyfriend but things quickly take a turn

the minute you met vinnie you told him you had an eleven month old daughter, not wanting there to be any lies or miscommunication up front.

to your surprise, vinnie took the news well and had no problem with it. except for the fact he wanted to smash your toxic ex’s face in.

as the days passed and you saw vinnie more often, he started to become a regular thing, part off your routine.

the two of you took things slow, but he knew one thing was for certain — he wanted to make you his girl.

he didn’t care if anyone gave him shit for dating a girl who had a kid, he just knew his feelings, and knew what he wanted.

when he asked you to be his girlfriend you were over the moon excited, loving every little thing about the blonde man you had grown to know.

your daughter seemed to warm up to him too. he’d come by your apartment to see you, and she’d bring out all her toys and mumble incoherent words, since she was still learning to talk.

you loved watching vinnie interact with your daughter, it was the most precious thing to see. the way he’d so intently get into all the little toys she’d bring out, getting down to her level so she could understand him more.

your heart was full, you really thought nothing could get any better. the relationship between you and your ex had broken you to no end, so meeting vinnie really did make your lift so much brighter.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡

vinnie had mentioned to you the first time you met that he was a content creator and was living in a house with other people that did the same thing he did.

you thought that was cool, how he had gotten an opportunity to meet new people and share the love and passion for the same thing he did.

today, you were going to his place for the first time with aurora. you had mentioned to vinnie not to let his roommates know that you had a kid.

nobody needed to know other than him, plus you hated the way people looked and judged you for being a younger mom.

vinnie had told you not to worry, that he’d never do anything like that unless you told him otherwise.

as you made your way to the front door, you held your daughter in your arms with her diaper bag on your back, ringing the doorbell and waiting for an answer.

you smiled at the man behind the door. “hey you,” he said, mirroring your smile. “hi aurora!”

vinnie tickled your daughters tummy, making her giggle and smile widely.

he stepped out of the way and let the two of you inside, closing the door behind you before wrapping his arm around you.

“everyone’s in the kitchen,” he stated. “you want me to put the diaper bag up in my room?” he asks.

you nod, setting aurora down and handing vinnie the backpack. you grab your daughters hand before turning to vinnie again.

“can i come with?” you ask. “i’m just a little nervous to meet them all with rory, don’t wanna be alone.”

vinnie smiles before kissing your cheek, he swings the bag over his shoulder and grabs aurora’s other hand.

“course you can,” he smiles. “come on rory.” he carefully helps the girl up the stairs with you.

once back downstairs, the three of you make it to the kitchen. vinnie’s hand is in yours while you hold your daughter on your hip.

everyone notices the three of you and smiles as you make your way farther into the kitchen. vinnie moves his hand to your back, rubbing small circles to try and calm your nerves.

you’ve only been here a few times, still feeling nervous around his friends. to add to it, you brought your daughter that no one knew about.

vinnie had told his friends he was seeing someone, but didn’t give them the detail that you had a daughter.

“hey guys,” vinnie greets as the three of you stand off to the side. “you guys remember y/n, right?”

last few times you were here you didn’t get much of a chance to officially meet vinnies roommates. you recognized faces, but not names.

a couple comes up to you, wide smiles on their faces as they greet you, telling you their names.

alex and kouvr is who you find out they are. you remember them now, them having been so nice to you the first time you were here.

vinnie smiles as his hand reaches yours, squeezing lightly as he watches you meet all his roommates.

“is this your sister?” kovur asks. it wasn’t an uncommon question, many people would ask if the toddler was your sister, not knowing your situation.

vinnie feels you squeeze his hand tighter and he kisses the side of your head in reassurance.

“this is my daughter, aurora.” you reply with a smile, looking at your daughter.

a girl with brunette hair who had been standing next to you assumed boyfriend scoffed, making you along with the other three people next to you turn your heads.

everyone could do the math, plus it was an easy thing to solve. you’re in your early twenties with an eleven month old on your hip.

“you look a little young to have a kid.” the girl retorts, walking closer to where you and vinnie stood.

you clutch aurora in your arms a bit tighter in a protective hold. you hated the judgment you got, the looks, the stares, everything that came with it.

vinnie sees your demeanor change and rubs his hand up your arm, trying to comfort you.

taking a deep breath, you try to push away the irritation and be civil.

“so?” the tone comes out more mean then you attended.

the girl scoffed with her hands on her hips. she had to be about the same age as you, and she was acting like a kid herself.

“you’re probably just using vinnie as a father figure for the father your daughter doesn’t have.”

that sentence alone pissed you off to no end. you wanted to hit her, anything to show how frustrated you are at her words.

you look down at your daughter, then at vinnie. he knew from the very start what he was getting himself into.

he wasn’t here to replace aurora’s father, not yet anyways. vinnie didn’t even know if this would last, let alone be a step-father to an eleven month old.

“mia calm down, she is not using me.” vinnie cuts in, trying to calm the girl down.

mia scoffs, rolling her eyes at the two of you. “how do you know?” she asks. “how do you know she’s not gonna beg you for some kind of money?”

you can’t help but laugh softly. mia and vinnie look at you for a minute before turning to face each other.

“i know because i know her,” he says sternly. “she is the most kindest, loving, supportive mother i know. she doesn’t need my money, hell, she doesn’t even want it.” vinnie states, making you smile.

you smile at vinnie, grabbing his hand before you hear him continue to defend you.

“if she wanted my money, she would’ve taken it and ran already. y/n wants me for me, mia. i don’t mind if she’s got a kid or not, i’ll love her and aurora until the day i die if it means i get to be with the two of them.”

you almost cry at his words, loving the way he stood up for you. hugging aurora tightly, you look at vinnie as he gives you a smile.

mia on the other hand, just huffs and walks away, leaving it to just the three of you.

“you didn’t have to do that, baby.” you whisper to the boy in front of you.

vinnie smiles and grabs your free hand. “i’m glad i did,” he smiles. “i mean what i said too.” he finishes, making you furrow your eyebrows.

“what i said about loving you and rory until the day i die if it means i get to spend the rest of my life with you.” he repeats.

this wasn’t him proposing, it was too soon for that. this was him telling you he has no intentions of leaving.

a few minutes ago he didn’t think this would last, but now, now he knows what he wants.

vinnie smiles at you as he leans in, hand finding its way to your hip as he presses a gentle, soft kiss to your lips.

you met the guy of your dreams. one that you know will love you and your daughter unconditionally. one that you see becoming a great dad.

you smile against him when the two of you pull away. aurora started whining in your arms and the two of you looked at her.

“whatcha’ want, rory?” vinnie asks softly, stroking her cheek softly.

the girl points to vinnie and you smile. she’s never really wanted someone other than you to hold her, so this was a big step.

you handed your daughter to your boyfriend, aurora smiled widely.

“there’s my girl.” he says, tickling the girl.

you look at your boyfriend with a playful smile on your face. “oh so rory’s your girl now?” you playfully tease.

vinnie looks at you and laughs, he thinks you look adorable like this.

“you know you’re my number one, get in here.” he says, holding out his free arm for you.

you smile and walk right into his arms. he wraps his arm around you and you kiss his cheek before aurora’s.

“my girls.” vinnie says softly as he holds you protectively, making you smile.

you could definitely get used to this feeling.

hiii i absolutely loved writing this , thank you for the request !!!!

i hope you all enjoyed as well !! <3

tags: @cosmicanakin , @anqeliclust , @native2princess , @bernelflo , @visualbutterflysworld , @slvthrs , @leqonsluv3r , @violet0182 , @0strawberrysorbet0 , @lovingsturniolo , @supabhad , @kayleighh , @kriissy4gov , @defnotayonna , @laylasbunbunny , @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom , @hallecarey1 , @jpg3 , @khxna

[radicalisedbabe]

I hope during the break I completely forget 911 exists tbh. Buddies have completely ruined the show for me. They’re a level of nasty that I genuinely don’t think I have seen to this extent in a fandom before,

I really thought buddies weren’t going to be rewarded this season. I really thought it would be made so clear buddie wouldn’t happen. I thought both Ryan and Oliver would finally make it clear. I thought that you morally cannot let the most horrible hateful people win in any way.

But despite buddie being no closer to going canon it still feels like they won

I never even really cared for Tommy, but I was so willing to root for the real gay relationship that is on the screen, that’s never something I would hate on.

But now it’s all said and done, and seeing how these people continue to think it’s okay to treat human beings, and how the show clearly is okay with it, I don’t feel right watching it anymore. Because it’s not okay.

The show and cast will never defend their guest stars who were just doing their job and it’s so disheartening. Both guys will get a new LI and they’re going to get treated exactly the same. And Oliver will continue to bait them, because gotta keep that engagement up.

And I wanna add, I have never seen a group of people who are so skilled in gaslighting. I legitimately feel like maybe I’m the crazy one sometimes. The way they will post about how bucktommys are mean etc, when they say the nastiest thing I have ever seen constantly.

I really feel like it would be best for every person who isn’t a buddie to disengage with the show online. If you’re not that level of toxic, seeing how they act towards people really does just hurt.

[mingis-orangejuice]

Asking the L&Ds boys "What are we?" Part 3: Rafayel

Summary: MC and her boy have been in a sort of situation-ship but MC wants to know why they haven't officially called her their girlfriend

a/n: This ended up being much longer than I thought so I'm making it into 4 parts (one for each boy) Here's Rafayel's part. I'm still writing Sylus' part, so it might take a little longer to come out

Genres/Warnings: angst, fluff, kinda slow burn, a little suggestive

Word count: 1114

Other parts: 1, 2, 4

Under the dazzling lights of an enormous banquet hall, you stand alone awkwardly looking at your phone. It was another one of Rafayel’s art shows. While you love to support him and his art, after going to about 4 different events in one week it gets old. Thomas was really running Rafayel rampant these past few weeks to get him to sell as much as possible before he goes off on one of his random solo trips. And even tho Rafayel hates these types of events he knew it would be good for his image and his wallet (not that he needs it) 

Why did Rafayel have to leave you by yourself? You hated going to big fancy events the only plus side of coming to these was getting to spend time with your boyfriend… wait was he your boyfriend? You guys never actually had that conversation but he gets pretty boyfriend-y when you guys are alone he calls you every night before bed to tell you goodnight, takes you on expensive overnight trips and gets all pouty if you don’t stay the night, but he also still calls you Miss bodyguard but sometimes calls you his muse. What does that even mean? Was he just playing with you or was there something more? 

You were thinking so hard about this that your facial expression looked pretty intense. You didn't even notice that most people at the event were actively avoiding you since you looked like you were ready to explode.

“Hey babe,” a voice from behind you snapped you out of your deep thought. Your expression changed to one of confusion and disgust at the random man who felt that it was ok to call you babe “Are you here alone? I can show you around. I know everything about these art pieces.”

You looked at him, now with a blank expression “Really?” you questioned sarcasm heavily coating your voice. Where is Rafayel? Why is he taking so long to come back? Thomas said he’d only be gone for a few minutes, but it's been over half an hour and now some creep is trying to talk to you.

“Yeah, I'm close personal friends with the artist, I’m actually his inspiration for most of his work, I’m basically an artist too he should be giving me half the profits from these since I’m such an integral part of his work, but I let him keep all of it since we’re such good friends” He steps closer to you as he spouts his nonsense. You, looking rightfully annoyed with him step back but this guy doesn’t get the hint and keeps stepping closer “What d’ you say, babe? Wanna spend the rest of the night with a real artist?  He continues to advance towards you while you step back even further, in your mission to get away from this creep you didn't notice one of the wires running along the floor that connected to one of the lights illuminating an art piece. You tripped backwards. Luckily a firm pair of arms was there to catch you before you hit the floor.

You look up to see who your saviour is. And to your surprise, it was none other than Rafayel. “For a bodyguard, you’re very clumsy” he chucked while steadying you.

“It’s not my fault,” you say preparing to defend yourself.

“I know, it was his” Rafayel points to the creep that had been pursuing you. “What do you think you’re doing pestering MY muse? She clearly doesn't like you can’t you take a hint or is that head of yours just full of fish tank pebbles”

“Just who do you think you are, if you hadn’t come in and ruined everything she woulda gone home with me” The creep angrily stepped towards you and Rafayel. He looks towards you trying to grab your wrist “Babe tell this guy to fuck off so we can get back to our conversation alright.”

Rafayel quickly swats his hand away “Why would she go home with a loser who pretends to be an artist just to get in her pants, when she can have this real artist who gets to be in her pants every night?” Rafayel says with a shit-eating grin. 

“Raf!” You lightly slap his chest a little amused and a bit embarrassed that he would say something like that out loud.

“Yeah, whatever she’s ugly anyway” The creep tries to leave, but Rafayel signals to some of the staff to grab that guy and remove him from the event. As the staff are holding the creep by the arms Rafayel brings his face close to his. “You’re lucky I’m only having them throw you out of the venue for talking about my muse like that.”

Later once the event was over, you and Rafayel were sitting in his living room, he was sketching some new ideas for paintings, and you were absent mindlessly playing on your phone, the questions from earlier still buzzing through your head. While lost in thought Rafayel lays his head on your shoulder. This makes your heart skip a beat and breaks you out of your trance.

“What are we ?” you suddenly ask slightly turning your head to where Rafalye was leaning.

“What?” he lifts his head off your shoulder to look at you confused.

You took a deep breath before starting, scared of confrontation, but you just had to know “When we were at your art show you kept calling me your muse, and apart from that you also act like my boyfriend most days, but you’ve never said that you were and you’ve also never called me your girlfriend. So I’ll ask again, what are we?”

“What, I thought it was obvious?” he said with a little smile. He takes both your hands into his and looks into your eyes

“Well, it's not obvious to me, so?” you wanted to look away from his gaze but you were afraid if you did you wouldn’t have the courage to look back at him again.

“You’re my muse,” he said excitedly, smile growing even bigger.

“I knew it, that's all I am to you just some inspiration for your art ” You sigh and get up to leave but he holds tighter to your hands

Is that what you think a muse is ?” He laughed softly. “To me a muse not only inspires my art but is my art, everything I do is for my muse. My muse consumes my every waking thought, I need her to be around me at all times to even function properly. You’re more than just a girlfriend to me, you’re my most precious muse.”

[i-mean-y-not]

ACCEPTANCE

Connie’s mother doesn’t care for you. In fact, you heard that you were the worst thing that happened to her son.

You can’t cook she says.

You’re a little too thick she says.

You don’t dress appropriately she says.

You don’t give a damn is what you used to say. But as the years go on, the worse it gets. She’s a short thing. Maybe four foot five on a good day. But her words dig at you every chance they get. Her heritage makes her that way she claims to Constance—what she and no one else calls him.

You’re in love with a man that never stood up to his mother.

Never defended you. Wouldn’t raise his voice at her in the slightest. And definitely wouldn’t bring you around for the longest time.

Connie says his mom has always been like this. Disapproving of every woman he’s ever brought home, and you begin to realize that the pattern has nothing to do with the women and everything to do with her. The rest of his family is kind, welcoming, you feel as though you’re part of the family around them. But his mother is one of the most disingenuous people you’ve ever met in your life.

You try your best when you first meet her. Bring her flowers, a fruit basket, and even going out of your way to buy her a personalized recipe book.

Connie often bragged about his mom’s cooking and said that her dream before she had all eight of her kids was to open her own restaurant. You figured this would be the closest thing that she would get.

But when you showed up looking modest and bearing gifts, she scoffed at you. And in her heavily accented voice told Connie, something that sounded very much like an insult. He merely rubbed at the back of his neck and grimaced.

You love him. That’s why you stay. But love is beginning to unravel your insides.

You never want to go to his family’s house for events. And to be honest, you don’t want to be seen with him. So when he leaves you stay home, claiming that you have errands to run.

When he asks, “Hey fat butt, wanna run to the store with me?” The only answer you give is a quiet shake of your head.

He notices immediately.

And he doesn’t chalk it up to hormones, or emotions, or even insecurity. He simply thinks you’re mad at him. He pesters you about it, often. With three months that it’s been happening, he hasn’t figured out the reason for your distance.

So when Thanksgiving rolls around he asks again, you offer another half truth and decline.

This time, however, he doesn’t let you get away with it. He pauses with his shoe halfway on his foot and lifts and eyebrow and question.

“What do you mean?” he responded to the answer you just gave him. It was a simple, no, but somehow his mind can’t warp around that.

“ I mean no, Connie. I’m going home.”

He looks at his you again albeit briefly. “Right, so what time will you be ready?”

Your eyes shifted to the side in slight confusion and instead of thinking the question you ask it out loud. “ Ready for what?”

In a clearly exasperated tone he declares, “To go to my parent’s house.”

Now you sigh and take a brief moment to collect your emotions. You ride to your feet slowly and mumble, “I said I’m going home, Connie.”

He looks off to the side and shakes his head slowly as if you’re the dumb one. “Yeah, I know. And your home is wherever I am so, get up and get dressed.”

You blink several times in irritation and your face is full of irritation when you say, “Did you not hear me, Constance?”

He hates his full name.

You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because of the dead dad that he’s named after. Or the way it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. You know this, but you figure the only way to get him to listen is to piss him off.

That’s all you’ve been doing lately, both of you. He pisses you off by not listening, and you piss him off by not obeying. He takes a calming breath, and after putting on his simple, simple, gold chain, the crosses arms in indignation.

Connie is multifaceted. He could be extremely frustrating when he doesn’t get his way, but he can also be extremely accommodating if he does. But today. Today, it seems like the accommodation is going out of the window.

He pinches the bridge of his nose before uttering, “Fuck is there your problem?”

The one thing you won’t tolerate is disrespect.

So you fold your lips, before you say something you shouldn’t. Then, you take a few steps towards the closet and nod.

“Okay, Connie.” He takes it as a win.

You can see it in the way his lip quirks up slightly. You grab a nude sweater, khaki pants and thigh high brown boots. Once you’re done with your simple make make up you turn your head back to him.

“Ready.” To him it looks like he’s won. But you it looks like you’ve lost.

The small smile still fades on his lips when you snatch your keys off of the hook by the front door. “What are you doing?”

He grabs at your hand in frustration. “I’m driving.”

“You’re pissing me off. You know that?”

You give a small wince when you utter, “Likewise.”

This conversation has been a long time coming. And you’re itching to scream out your injustice. He watches as you put your keys back on the hook where they belong and proceed to take the bathroom. Your makeup takes you all of ten minutes and once you’re dressed, you’re reaching for your keys once again.

He’s there in a flash. Grabbing your wrist, gently, but with enough pressure to let you know he’s there. It doesn’t scare you. He shuts his eyes for a brief moment in what you assume is frustration.

How funny is it now that the shoe is on the other foot. Before an argument ensues, you swipe some lip gloss on and smile gently. “I’m going home, Connie and that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I just love me too.”

That does something. Although you’ve never really voiced it, he knows. Your tolerance, acceptance even is a challenge. Showing up to dinners and gatherings you weren’t invited to made things much worse than they were. Through it all you grin and bear it. Not because you want to, but because you love him.

That love outweighs the pain of rejection. But that love doesn’t come close to healing already irreparable damage caused. He sits his keys down and then he turns to you with the most sincere look on his face. His caramel turtleneck compliments his eyes and the khaki chinos tie in with his mahogany loafers.

“Okay,” he says, and holds his arms out when he sits on the bed. “Come here.”

You hesitate, not because you’re scared but because you’re worried that this conversation is way beyond its expiration date.

He pats at the space that he’s intentionally left open for you between and his legs and you’re sinking into his embrace immediately. As soon as you’re in his arms he begins his declaration. “First of all, let me say this. Even if I could live a million lives, I’d want to live them with you every time. Being with you isn’t a choice, princesa. You understand? You affect my whole being, my very existence.”

Damn if he isn’t dramatic. With a small smile into his shoulder you begin to murmur. He can’t hear you.

You can barely hear you, but he grasps your chin and his hazel green eyes glows as he hums in question. “What’s that, mami?”

You look up and your lash line is already wet when you say, “I’m tired, Connie.”

His lips turn into a sad smile and he nods in agreement. “I know.”

Somehow he gets you to acquiesce and not before compromise. He takes you to your parents and you laugh and talk for about two hours before you’re saying your goodbyes. The car ride is silent to his mom’s house. You’re literally twiddling your thumbs in anxiety. Despite your feelings, you’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. You love him and although he’s selfish sometimes, and cries at beauty and the beast, he’s still yours.

And you are his. It’s in the way he holds your hand and drags his fingers over your knuckles. The way he cries when you do. But the reason you stay is simply the way he gets you. It takes a look to understand what you’re feeling and an errant sigh to put him on alert.

When you greet his mother—this time empty handed— she gives you that same depreciating look over. Once again your stomach unfurls in anxiety, but this time, Connie squeezes your hand lightly. He walks past her and gently gives a small nod in greeting.

You’re sure the entire family can sense the discord between you three. Connie, however acts as if this behavior is normal. Blatantly disregarding his mother when she asks a question it speaks to him in general.

When you sit at the Thanksgiving table to eat, you’re lost for a little bit. Albeit, being with Connie for two years has given you a glimpse into Dominican society, and let’s not forget the language.

It all comes to a climax when you ask Connie for a bottle of water at the dinner table.

Almost as soon as he disappears through the kitchen doorway, she mumbles, in plain English, “She has two legs.” Your eyes snap to her at the head of the table and with a little laugh you nod.

You don’t think it’s disrespectful to stand up for yourself. Quite the opposite, you believe. As you’ve gotten older, you’ve gotten much more comfortable with saying what you want.

“Mrs. Springer? Is there a problem?” Your tone isn’t abrasive or rude and you patiently wait for an answer, genuinely confused. What had you ever done to deserve the treatment you’ve received? Not a thing you can recall.

So you draw your shoulders back and look at her straight in her eyes. “Is it because Connie is your baby boy? Or the fact that you just don’t think I’m worthy? I’m trying my best to make your son happy, but I can’t- I won’t deal with this anymore.”

There’s an almost frightening hush over the dinner table and when the hairs rise on the back of your neck, you know that Connie probably heard every word that just came out of your mouth.You can’t bring yourself to apologize. And you won’t. Although you know he’s behind you, the words you push out of your mouth taste like bitter bile.

“I will leave your son,” you declare. Your voice breaks as you continue and a tear falls down your cheek. “I will. He is the love of my life; but I will.”

“Like hell you are,” Connie grumbles from directly behind you.

He grasps your hand in comfort as you continue. “I know that he loves you and he wants approval from you that he’ll never get. I’m not your punching bag, I won’t even get in the ring with you. So if you want a fight, I forfeit. You can have him all to yourself.”

The hand that Connie has grabbed feels a tight squeeze and that’s all it takes for you to close your mouth. He takes over from there.

With a nod at you he whispers, “Get your coat, mami.” Your mouth pops open in confusion, but he simply offers you a smile.

“Trust me.” And you do, irrationally so. Not because you love him, but because he’s never given you a reason not to. So you leave, because he asked you to. The walk to get your coat is the longest. In the modest five generation home that has one bathroom and three bedrooms, it takes you way longer to get your coat than it should. The underlying message was to stay with the coat.

But you can’t help but wait just beyond the entryway of the kitchen as Connie—for the first time you’ve seen it—corrects his mother. A mix or English and Spanish is spoken and being around him long enough, you pick up a word or two. His family from the left side of the table—which is what you can see— all sit with their mouth agape.

You understand when he begins to speak in English, code switching, I’m sure to drive home his point. “I love her and I’m going to marry her. If you want to be in my life anymore, this has to stop. I appreciate you and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, but I’m my own person and you don’t have to approve of the woman I love. You’re going to stop disrespecting her or these little gatherings? Don’t bother inviting me to them anymore. ¿Tú entiendes?”

The silence that rocks the entire house is stifling. This is what you wanted. Right? But somehow, the joy doesn’t compare to the hate you just realized you have for Connie. All this time, he hasn’t opened his mouth to defend you and now that he has…you think it might be too late. The realization hits you like a current at sea that sweeps you away before anyone can notice. It’s a scary thing to fall out of love so quietly you never see it coming.

Neither does he.

“Let’s end this, Constance.”

The words come out louder and softer than you intend. His newly trimmed head snaps towards your voice and his eyebrows wrinkle in puzzlement.

“End what?”

He says and by the look in his eyes, he already knows. So when you motion a hand between you and him limply, he lets out a small chuckle. “We’re not ending anything, __.”

Connie would never force you to do anything let alone beg you to stay, but the tears that form on his waterline makes you second guess that entirely. And for a moment, you completely forget his family is here.

That is until his mother emits a sound that sounds very close to a snort.

“Take me home, please.” you request, calmly.

With his eyebrows drawn so far down you’re afraid they’ll reach his nose, he breathes out, “You are home, princesa.”

His hand taps at the middle of his chest and the tears you’ve been holding onto for two years come spilling out. You don’t want to do this in front of his family. You don’t want to do this at all. But you want to be free again. Not to explore other options but to cherish the man you used to love.

You don’t say another word.

You don’t have to.

With your coat in hand and your phone in the other, you’re walking right back out of the door you entered.

He follows. Of course he does.

“Hey,” he whispers with a hand at your wrist. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a waterfall coming down your face when you reply, “I’m done, Connie.”

“With me?” Is his immediate reply.

You take a step back out of his reach and rub at your arm to comfort yourself. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Why?” His voice sounds garbled, like he can’t quite get the word out without fighting through emotions that physically pain him.

“She’s never gonna approve of me.” He shakes his head quietly. “Doesn’t matter.”

You want to believe him, but you can’t. The faith you once had in him has essentially vanished. Despair replaces it. “It does! That’s your mother and I’m tired of fighting a battle I’ll always lose. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

His sadness gives way to anger now. It’s spoken in the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and tongues at his cheek. “After two years?” 

You don’t know how to respond, honestly.

If you’re being completely transparent, you’re not sure you care. All this anguish that pours out of him is the same feeling that’s been pooling in your gut ever since you met his mother.

You don’t intend to be cold but you simply ask. “Can you take me home?”

You see the fight leave him.

His hands find their way out of his pockets and they shake when he grabs the keys to his car and unlocks it. He opens the passenger side door for you to get in silently and closes it gently once you’re in the seat safely. He gets into the drivers seat and looks over at you, face red and brimming with unchecked emotion.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You simply respond, “ I know.”

[moonbaetarot]

Pick a pile

What makes you a good person

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Your a peaceful person you like to keep your peace. Your someone who goes with the flow your ok with change and new things even if your scared of a situation you know it’s all going to be ok. You stay true to yourself you’re not flashy you don’t flex your money or newest finest things you have. You see things from every perspective you’re not quick to judge you know everyone comes from different paths in lives and may see things differently. You may have struggled with mental health, anxiety or depression in your childhood or teen years this really played a part in who you are today. You may be a teacher or want to be a teacher of some sort or had a teacher in your life who you looked up to I’m getting miss honey and Matilda vibes. You make what seems impossible possible. Someone here could be 22. You have a lot of stability you’re ready for anything. You see everything as an opportunity. You don’t let people get in the way of your path in life. You know how defend your self you usally don’t tho if someone says something about you you just like I feel sad for them like “you must be miserable to hate on me” but if you need to defend yourself you’ll snap and get your point across.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

Being a good person may feel hard sometimes. it’s like you do everything for everyone and get nothing back. You over work yourself for people who don’t deserve nothing from you. You’re worrying about pleasing others over your own happiness. You may feel like being a good person gets you nowhere. (I’m sorry love if someone in your life and doesn’t appreciate you you need to cut them off you deserve so much more then people who don’t appreciate all you do, you are so important and you will find someone that will appreciate you.) You take care you others I’m getting empathetic energy like if someone around you is sick your fast to get them whatever they need because you remember what it’s like to be sick so you wanna help them get better. You stay committed your very goal oriented if you put your mind to something you’re doing anything to get there. Someone here may be very close to their grandma or used to when they were little. You find a way to see the joy in fun in life even when things aren’t easy. You’re good at giving advice you know just what to say in any situation. Someone here may have very long hair or like to their elbow. You know how to keep a promise. You need to learn to cut people out your life love someone in your life isn’t good for you.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

You use past situations to help better yourself. You work well with other people and groups. People see you as approachable you have a very friendly energy about you that makes people wanna talk and be friends with you. I feel like you’re a very good friend always checking up on people making sure everyone’s ok and making sure no one feels left out when y’all hangout. I feel that sometimes your face may say other wise tho lol someone here may have a rbf or just look mad or tired sometimes. You are good in relationships you were made to me a lover I’m hearing “best I ever had”. When you have kids you’re going to be the best parent you are going to love those kids so much And unconditionally. I feel like having kids is going to change you for the better if there things you don’t like or flaws you have become a parent is going to change all of that. I feel like you’re a trustworthy person people trust you with many things. You look out for people you love and protect them from people with ill intentions Your able to see the bad in people and they will think there slick and getting away with it but you see right through them. You have a mothering healing energy people feel safe around you being around you just feels like a big hug. You have a very soft submissive girly energy.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

[charmercharm3r]

i cant NOT think about jeongin asking the 9th member for help with/practice kissing (the phrasing is weird but i lovee this idea 😭)

Masterlist

prev: three, next: five

☆ﾟ

“It’s not that I haven’t wanted to… It just never happened.”

Jeongin was defending himself like his life depended on it. Not that he needed to, no one blamed him or thought it was weird— more of a pride thing on his end.

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” you crumpled the empty water bottle in your hand and turned to Jisung. Raising and bringing it down playfully onto the top of his head, Jisung didn’t run from the scolding. “Why’d you put him on the spot like that! What’s your dating history like then, hm?”

Jisung immediately skipped over to Jeongin to take him into an embrace while the younger attempted to escape. “Ew, hyung— get away! You’re sweaty!”

When he managed to catch him, Jisung rubbed his cheek into Jeongin’s shoulder, “don’t feel bad, Jeonginnie. I’ve kissed people, but don’t worry, it’s not that fun.” Jeongin looked at you with a face that begged for mercy but not attempting to push him away.

“He’s lying, kissing is really fun,” Hyunjin chimed in and took a seat the open space beside you. “Kissing me is even more fun. C’mon Y/N’ie, just one?” He shoulder bumped you and puckered his lips.

“Kiss each other.” With that, you excuse yourself to the bathroom, only to come back minutes later to find Jisung pinning Hyunjin to the floor trying to take your words literally. You turned around and left again before witnessing anything that’ll make your eyes burst into flames.

☆ﾟ

What was probably hours had passed and everyone since forgotten about what had been said in the practice room, entirely too preoccupied with other things. Like singing lessons, for example. The session just didn’t go as you had hoped, that one high note was kicking your ass. As you walked through the corridor towards the exit, you could hear a soft voice from another occupied room.

Peaking through the small sliver of window, Jeongin was sat alone in the tiny confined space. You knocked twice before letting yourself in. He wasn’t startled, but surprised to see you, though the happy expression he wore quickly changed to something more melancholic.

“You’re still here? I thought your lessons ended an hour ago?” You stood in the door frame not wanting to invade too much of his space. Jeongin was always emotionally delicate, though he put up a hard shelled front.

“Yeah, just wanted some quiet before going home.” He twiddled his fingers, mind clearly not in the same room.

“Okay, wanna head back together? I can wait for you, I’ll grab us something at the convenience store.”

“Actually, can you come in?”

You closed the door behind you and sat in the spare chair. “Are you okay?”

He hated talking about his feelings, let alone things as personal as what Jisung had brought up earlier today about kissing. Jeongin has no idea how to go about it. He can’t articulate that he thinks you’re so pretty and that the way your nose crinkles when you laugh is adorable. It’s hard to put into words that he’s never kissed anyone because he didn’t want to waste his first with someone temporary because, “I only get one.”

Your eyebrow raised, “one what?”

His voice caught in his throat, hardly able to push the words past his lips, “one first kiss.”

“Are you still thinking about what Jisung said earlier? It’s nothing to feel bad about.”

Jeongin fidgeted a second longer before deciding to bite the bullet. “Take it. I don’t want it anymore.”

Fuck, he scared you. You’re looking at him like he has two heads and is speaking in tongues. “When you say it like that, I don’t want you to jump into things just because everyone else does. Don’t rush—“

“I’m not rushing. Like, the total opposite,” he sat on the edge of his seat and that much closer to you. “There have been people who wanted to kiss me, and I’ve wanted to kiss them. But I felt like I couldn’t? If I’m going to kiss someone, I want it to stick. Those people, they were temporary and I knew that, it wouldn’t have been fair to them. Now, I’ve been putting it off for so long that I think it’s not even an option anymore. But… then I look at you, talk to you, exist around you. It feels, for lack of a better word, right?”

At a complete loss for words, how have you not crumbled around him earlier? Let alone noticed he felt that way? You sat still with your lip between your teeth, running through all the possibilities that could follow if you were to go through with what he’s asking for. There was the fact that you already kissed one of them— briefly recalling your stolen moment with Felix— and that Jeongin hasn’t shied away from complementing you when he could or being all together boyfriendly. Even if you didn’t think of dating him, what harm could kissing him really do? If anything, doing it will satiate that need for the both of you, then close that chapter.

“Okay, but don’t tell Hyunjin. It’ll make him jealous.”

“More than when you kissed Felix?”

“How do you know that?!”

“I live with him?” He said it as if you were the stupid one to believe none of them would find out. Case in point.

You sighed, “yes, more than that time.”

As you moved and got more comfortable, he copied in sitting up straight and puckering his lips. “What’re you doing?”

“Getting ready to kiss you?” You rolled your eyes.

Jeongin came from a good place, even if he was entirely clueless. You suppose he was just parroting every time Jisung exaggeratedly tried to kiss the next nearest person. It was kind of endearing, a little geeky, but heartwarming nonetheless.

Putting your hands on his shoulders, you pushed them down to get him to relax. Then scooting your chair closer to his, you spread his knees to let your own take up that space. Jeongin let you maneuver him however you pleased, breath hitching as you stole his hands to place them lightly on the tops of your thighs. His hands were huge, not new information, but definitely a new feeling now that he was touching you. He was on the taller side, broader shoulders and probably able to wrap around your entire body if you hugged him properly. All those thoughts briefly swam around your brain just from the image of his hands on your thighs.

Jeongin was felt as though he was sweating bullets, but still immensely excited. Physical touch wasn’t his most favorite thing in the world, but he enjoyed it when it was you. These small, lingering touches, like where his hands were now, he probably enjoyed it more than he should.

“I’m going to put my hands on your neck, is that okay?” Jeongin nodded immediately, holding his breath. The warmth of your palms on his pulses made him shiver. “Don’t over think it. Kisses don’t need to be aggressive, they also don’t have to be too gentle. Just find a balance, not every person you kiss will want the same thing.” He nodded and absorbed every word that dripped from your perfectly plush lips. At some point he almost stopped listening and focused on your lips all together.

“What do you like?” He blurted out nervously. You giggled, oh so beautifully.

“We’ll get there,” your fingers traced back to comb through the hair at the back of his head teasingly, Jeongin almost fully leaned into it like a puppy. “Be calm. All the time in the world.”

Jeongin’s hands lightly kneaded the flesh of your thighs in anticipation, in need and desperation and longing to just feel your lips on his for the first time. He didn’t realize you were slowly drawing in closer and closer, then he could feel your breath fanning across his mouth and suddenly all the air was sucked from his lungs. “Make sure they want this as much as you. Look into their eyes, hold them tenderly, then ask. Can I kiss you?”

Glassy, watered over with all the stars staring back at you, “please.”

“That’s not a confirmation.” You were so close that the heat radiated off your body made Jeongin overheat in the best way possible.

“Yes, please kiss me.”

You were slow to press your lips to his, whereas as soon as the contact was made, Jeongin leaned further into you, almost shoving you out of your chair. Quick to push him back, you held his neck a little tighter and reined him in. Taking the hint, he put his excitement into his hands that now squeezed your thighs tighter and tighter, not that it hurt. His lips softened more, less eager but just as excited, he followed your lead.

The simple peck ended far too quickly for his liking, chasing as you pulled away. “No, no, more please.”

He moved to grip the bottom of your chair and tug the entire thing closer with the scrape of the legs on the floor echoing with a screech. Now you had nowhere to go, further trapped between his legs where you’d put yourself and Jeongin now reaching for your waist with one hand and the other cupping your jaw. And you didn’t hate it. Actually, you loved it. Getting attention from the one person that hates giving or receiving attention feels so rewarding, which is why you let him take what he wanted.

Long fingers threaded through your hair and tugged you to meet his lips half way, you fell forward into him and let your arms wrap around his neck. For his first time kissing, he was surprisingly well versed. Everything you’ve told him up until now he applied in his rather scattered yet charming kissing technique. He was everywhere all at once and it made your brain fuzzy.

Close lipped, simple, safe, eager, yearning, wanting, warm, fervorous, you didn’t want to let go almost as much as he did. Jeongin lightly whined when you pulled away, chasing after you again and keeping your upper body pinned to his. You hadn’t realized that your knees were pressing against his pelvis until you leaned a little back and he softly whimpered one more time.

“I don’t think you really needed kissing lessons.” He shrugged, smug. “Did you just wanna kiss me?” Another shrug and a crooked smile. “You little shit.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t kiss and tell.” You couldn’t tell if he lied, but truthfully you didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

Rolling your eyes again, he leaned in for a soft peck, molding your lips together sweetly, honey like moans being swapped between mouths.

That is, until the door to the vocal room was being burst open. You jumped in Jeongin’s hold, the both of you looking at who had just ruined your lovely moment.

“Oh, come on! Jeongin?! That is so not fair!” Hyunjin took up most of the doorway with Jisung peaking on his tiptoes over his shoulder.

A sigh fell from your mouth, patting Jeongin’s shoulders and reluctantly slipping from his grasp. He sat still, shriveling into the backrest of the chair as you gathered your stuff. “Aren’t you coming?” You asked him. Sheepish, he scratched the back of his head and pulled the hem of his shirt lower. “Nevermind, see you tomorrow, Jeonginnie.” He avoided eye contact again as you ruffled his hair and pushed past Hyunjin and Jisung.

The two followed behind you, bombarding you with question after question, mostly about how good the kiss with Jeongin was. Hyunjin was dramatically livid, nothing out of the usual, storming ahead of you and Jisung down the stairs to head home.

Jisung lightly pulled you back to a stop, curious eyes looking at you. “What is it?”

“I— I know I joke about kissing, said it’s not that fun and everything but…” he trailed off as though he couldn’t trust the words that he truly wanted to say. You waited patiently until he could articulate himself. “Can I be next?”

☆ﾟ

A/N: it’s been a minute..hoping posting this can jumpstart me into posting more!! i really missed writing and finding this in my inbox after a month was so fun n cute to write, thank u anon!!!

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + five

authors note: soooo, i both hate and love this one. can't tell if i'm just being super hard on myself, but it feels flat and a bit boring, but i also know if i keep messing with it, i'll never feel wholly satisfied, so here is the best version i could come up with!

it does include more of roman's background though so....there's that at least lmao

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: sexual harassment, language, violence, ptsd episode (dissociation, avoidance, breakdown), torture

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

words: 8k

Solana has come to the realization that training isn’t entirely awful.

Or maybe it’s the fact that along with training, she’s allowed the chance to socialize, to be around other people and learn to not be so nervous all of the time. Naomi is a great person for that, bubbly and naturally personable. She’s created such a welcoming space that has left Solana feeling less and less nervous.

A couple weeks into training, Solana also feels like she’s growing more comfortable in her learning. It’s still the very basics, a lot of focus on flexibility, but it feels good. It feels almost relieving to be able to learn certain skills and tips that she can use to maybe one day defend herself. 

To maybe one day be able to take care of herself.

Or maybe some dreams are just too big to wish for.

It’s the end of her session with Naomi, and Solana is in the women’s locker rooms, having just finished her shower. She’s in her head a bit, mentally going over what she’s going to make Roman for dinner.

He’s been gone more often than not the past couple weeks, and she’s torn on that. On one hand, it’s nice not to be around a man who she’s supposed to be figuring out a way to kill, a man whose presence alone creates an additional layer of anxiety on top of the pre-existing baseline that is her everyday anxiety 

But…..

But, there’s also a part of her that….that wouldn’t be too opposed if he was around more. Being alone in the big house also creates a space of anxiety. If…if he was present more, maybe she could learn how to interact with him.

Could learn him.

It’s this strange thought process that’s so confusing and almost overwhelming for her that it keeps her from noticing the pending danger lurking just steps away.

“Hey, Solana.”

Solana gasps loudly, spinning around, her eyes widening at Austin Theory who stands before her with that same predatory smile. She opens her mouth to scream, but she’s too slow. 

Austin backs her against the lockers and slaps his hand over her mouth. His other hand moves to pin her hands over her hand. Instantly, her heart is beating out her fucking chest, an intense weight of dread anchoring her down. 

Solana feels paralyzed. She is paralyzed. 

“Always so damn jumpy. All we wanna do is get to know you....”

It’s almost perfect timing when another man appears, Grayson. But, it’s when he sees Austin and Solana that he frowns, walking over, “man, what the hell are you doing?”

Austin rolls his eyes, laughing. “Come on, don’t be a little bitch. It’s just a little fun.”

“This isn’t funny, Austin. If Reigns finds out—”

“What the fuck is he gonna do, huh?” Austin scoffs, gaze returning back on Solana who has her eyes clenched shut, tears threatening to spill over. “And you’re not going to say anything to him anyway, are you?” 

Solana gasps, breathing uneven as Austin lowers his hand to tug on the knot of her towel just enough to loosen it but not enough to undo it. Regardless, it’s that one act that truly immobilizes her because she’s no longer standing before this man as a grown woman.

She’s that 12 year old little girl completely unaware of what night of horrors is about to be unleashed on her, the way an unspeakable act of evil perpetrated on an innocent child is going to lead her down a dark, depressing path.

And she’s frozen, frozen in time, forever stuck in that state of suffering. 

Grayson’s eyes fall on Solana, seeing that she’s almost no longer present, dissociating, and that seemingly freaks him out even more. He tugs on Austin’s shoulder. “You had your fun, mate. Let’s fucking go.”

Austin has never been one to listen to others. Ever. But in a testament to his cruelty, Solana’s lack of reaction, lack of struggling and displaying helplessness in front of him wanes the enjoyment. He doesn’t get off as much, doesn’t feel as empowered as he does by making people feel small.

So with a scoff and not an ounce of influence from Grayson in his ear, he releases her, stepping back with a smirk as she instantly moves her arms over her chest. 

“Relax, Mrs. Reigns.” She’s anything but, and it brings a smile to his face. It’s so fucking easy to get her unnerved. “Just messing with ya, that’s all.”

There’s more distant talking, snickering and combatting with someone speaking quietly but urgently. Solana can make out part of that as she gradually returns to a state of awareness. Enough to where she’s eventually cognizant of the fact that they’ve left, that she’s alone, that they no longer pose an immediate threat.

But, they do. They do, because what if they come back?

Chest still tightening, breathing still erratic, Solana rushes over to the door, shaking hands managing to shut it closed and locked. But, it’s not enough to just be alone, to know that no one can come in and try to hurt her. 

Because she still feels it.

Still feels hands on her, restricting her, bounding her, and it makes her sick.

Hand over her mouth, Solana does her best to push back the nausea, rushing over to the showers, turning the knob so that it’s at full strength. 

And heat too.

Shoving the towel off her body, she steps under the scalding water and grabs the soap, immediately scrubbing at her body. It’s unnecessary force, unnecessary heat, unnecessary altogether, but it’s the only thing that gives her a faux sense of comfort. She needs to wash the feeling of them off of her, scrub until her skin starts to look wrinkled and raw, her complexion tinging with redness from the heat of the water.

Eventually, the scrubbing stops feeling like enough. Nothing feels like enough, and she falls back against the wall of the shower, sliding down as she pulls her knees to her chest.

And she cries, the water blending seamlessly with the tears that filter out the drain in a way she wishes the heavy feelings wrecking her body would melt away.

Safe.....

It's a dream that she'll never achieve.

A wasted hope.

A lie.

—-----------

“The RKO proposal is pretty decent.” 

“But not good enough.” Roman’s dismissal is swift and to the point. “I want 75% of all profits.”

Rikishi presses his lips together, calmly reminding, “that’s gonna be a hard sell.” 

“Orton is desperate. He’s an imbecile who uses more products than he moves and is running Bob’s legacy into the ground.” Roman is a man who prides himself on always being on the up and up. He makes it his business to know what’s going on with all competitors and even partnerships. “He should consider my offer fucking mercy. 75% or nothing.”

Rikishi sits back in his chair, a proud smile growing on his face. “I’ve taught you well, Uce”

There’s a modicum of truth to his cousin’s words, but for the most part, Roman has learned more on his own than anything anyone could have ever taught him.

“What’s the status of the imports from Columbia?”

Jey leans forward, answering without pause. “Scheduled to arrive just on time, assuming nothing goes awry.”

“Who’s managing?”

“Tama.”

Roman nods. “It’ll be fine.” His distant cousin, Tama Tonga is a bit on the……eccentric side, but he’s never failed to see a successful shipment through from beginning to end.

“If…..” Paul’s low but firm voice enters the conversation, Roman’s lazy gaze falling on the man. “If I may, my Tribal Chief?” With the nod of approval from the Head of the Table, Paul clears his throat. “By my calculations, there’s a way for us to improve on the total time it currently takes for us to move product by over 40% with some minor….changes.”

Jimmy, who sits almost bored at the other side of the table, feet propped up, asks in a suspicion tone. “What kind of changes?”

Paul clears his throat. “If we were to have access to the Eastern harbor—”

At that, both Jimmy and Jey land eyes on their cousins head counsel. Jey is the first to speak though. “You know that’s Nightmare territory, correct?”

Paul’s voice is surprisingly calm. “I do.” A nervous set of blue eyes settle on the man who sits at the head of the table, the primary one who needs to be convinced of the possible benefits of what he’s about to suggest. “If we would just consider—”

“No.” Roman’s rejection is loud and echoes throughout the conference room. “How could you even fucking suggest that shit?”

“My Tribal Chief, if you could please hear out my—”

Roman’s fist banging against the table sends an alert to all members of this current meeting that the Tribal Chief word is final and unchanging. “I said…..no.” 

Rikishi shakes his head, thankful that a stern rejection is the extent of his cousin’s reaction. He can’t believe Paul could even be stupid enough to even suggest such a thing to Roman. Perhaps he could be swayed over to see the business and financial benefits, but Roman…..no, that history runs too deep and bleeds too much red for Roman Reigns to ever consider some sort of ceasefire or let alone alliance with The Nightmare Factory. 

“Well, that shit got awkward real fast,” Jey mutters, uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the atmosphere. Even if it makes all the sense in the world. “How about that marriage life?

Roman shuts his eyes. It’s jumping from one annoying topic to another. “What?”

“Man, Big Dog living good over there,” Jimmy’s smile is wide as he rubs his hands together. “Lil Soso can cook her ass off!”

“Stop calling her that.”

“Speaking of ass, she pregnant yet?”

This is why Roman didn’t want to get on this subject, because he knew where it would lead to, another road he’s not trying to go down right now.

Rikishi chimes in, “their delivery is trash, but the question is still fair. Is there a chance she’s pregnant?” A sly smile falls on his face as he teases, “I know you well enough, Uce, that I don’t need to remind you of the importance of trying.”

Jey snorts. “That ain’t never been a problem for any of us. Especially Roman. Man, I still don’t know how you don’t have a gaggle of lil mean mugging ass kids running around here.”

The answer is simple, and Roman expresses as such. “Because I know how to fucking use a condom unlike you idiots.”

“Hey. I don’t know what you talking about. All my kids by Nicki.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

At that, Jey jumps out the chair, Jimmy rolling his eyes as Paul shakes his head and sighs heavily. “Ayo, you the Tribal Chief and everything, but you not gon’ keep disrespecting my wife like that, aight?”

“Where did you sleep last night, Jey?” Roman’s tone is both bored and knowing, especially as Jey’s gaze drops the same way his ass does right back in his seat. “That’s what I thought.”

“Just…” Rikishi’s voice is louder, allowing him to realign the conversation. “Keep us updated, Roman. When she does get pregnant, you’ll need to up her security.”

“I’m aware.” Just like he’s aware of the fact that unless this girl is the virgin fucking Mary and will have an immaculate conception, there’s no need to worry about that right now.

Or ever. 

His business phone lighting up with a familiar name across the screen is both a welcomed surprise as well as distraction for Roman. Without hesitation, he answers, watching the TV anchored on the wall light up.

Roman’s shoulder straightens as he leans back further into the soft Italian leather of his chair. “Dwayne.”

“Roman.” Dwayne removes the stereotypical dark glasses Roman always grew accustomed to seeing his cousin wear in any interaction. His smile beams. “Long time no fucking see, cousin.”

Roman shrugs, answering honestly, “been busy.” 

“I saw that. Congratulations on the marriage. An invite would have been fucking nice.”

At that, Roman chuckles, calling out his bluff. “Like you would have come.”

Dwayne’s laughter echoes through the office. “Fair.” He then greets the rest of the men present, though it’s a surprise to no one that his initial exchange is solely with Roman. They’ve always had a great bond, even better business partnership, hence the position Roman has placed him in. “You know why I’m calling though”

And there goes the ‘fun’ while it lasted. Straight into business with his big cousin. He respects it immensely though. Dwayne is all about profit and efficiency and ensuring the smoothness of operations. “The same reason you always reach out, cause it’s not that often.”

“It’s been a couple years, cousin….”

“I’m aware.” 

And he is. 

6 years, to be precise. 

“You need to fly out here.” Dwayne isn’t saying anything Roman doesn’t already know, hasn’t already heard. “They need to see your face.”

“They have you.”

Dwayne snorts. “They hate me almost as much as they hate you.” They being that other side of Roman’s family, the side that he could go on with the rest of his life without seeing or speaking to. The side that probably feels the same about him and his Tribal tattoos, long hair, and skin that is not like theirs. 

Yeah….hate is definitely the right word.

“Do you care?”

“Hell no.” The answer is surprising, unlike Dwayne’s next statement. “But, I do care when shit starts to get more openly disrespectful.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re becoming bolder with questioning your leadership. Less subtle. More direct.”

At that, Roman’s attention is fully captured. He sits up in his seat. “Is that so?”

The twins, Rikishi, and Paul all exchange knowing glances, having been wisely quiet to allow the Head of the Table to conduct business as he sees fit. But this, they all know where this is going.

“Maybe it is time I remind them who the fuck is in charge here.” As much as Roman loathes the idea of having to be around and interact with these fuckers, nothing vexes him more than having his authority challenged. 

Like he’s not the one, the two, and the three they’ve been looking for. 

“I’ll see about flying out within the next week.” 

Jey speaks up for the first time. “I can’t just leave on that short notice—”

“Did I say I needed you to come with me?” It’s a bit of a rhetorical question. “I can handle this on my own.”

As is his preference with most things, because in Roman’s opinion, most things are handled better and in the way that most pleases him when he does it himself. His expectations can only be set and maintained or exceeded by him.

“At least take Paul with you, Uce.” Rikishi suggests, and in the moment, it’s last thing he wants. Paul’s already pissed him off enough for the day. “They need to be straightened out, not taken out. Paul can help you keep that balance.”

Roman isn’t obstinate enough to disagree with that. Paul does have his uses, one of which being his ability to talk Roman down when the preference is to just kill motherfuckers the second he deems them annoying. 

And that’s not the goal for this trip.

Not yet, anyway.

“Fine. Wise Man and I will go.” There are far too many other things on Roman’s plate for him to push back on a plus one. This is immaterial to the larger picture. “Dwayne, start the preparations.”

“You got it, brotha’. I’ll keep in touch.” 

The screen goes dark as Dwayne ends the call. Roman reclines back in his chair, a mixture of muddy, dark, bleak emotions. The idea of having to be around his maternal family is quite literally sickening to him. He hates those sons of bitches almost as much as they hate and despise him.

But on another hand, the idea of getting away from all this, from this Solana dilemma, there could be some benefits. He’d be gone for a couple of weeks, perhaps even a month. Maybe in that space he’ll come back to a different kind of woman. A woman who knows how to fucking stand up for herself instead of being so scared all the time.

And as if reading his cousin’s mind, Jimmy breaks the silence, asking, “Ayo, Roman, you sure you should be leaving—”

A knock on the door seems to only exacerbate the tension as Roman snaps. “What?”

Alicia, his secretary, easy on the eyes and effective in what she does, opens the door just enough to stick her head through. “I’m sorry to bother you, Mr. Reigns—”

“So why are you?” It’s well known that Roman is a man who hates interruptions, especially when he’s in the middle of a briefing meeting, and she knows this well. Might be time for a new secretary.

Alicia swallows and calmly explains, “your cousin, Nia, is on line one. She says she needs to speak to you immediately.”

“She can wait.”

“With….all due respect, sir, it sounds like an emergency. She’s been blowing up the lines all morning.”

Curious, Roman turns his personal phone over and sees his lock screen littered with missed calls, texts, and a voicemail all from one person. 

Nia. 

With a heavy sigh, Roman dismisses Alicia. “I’ll handle it.”

Quietly, she closes the door and he unlocks his phone to return the call. Nia never makes such an effort to get in contact with him. Some shit must have went down, though his mind still wonders what level of bullshit could have occurred that even she can’t handle. 

Phone laid on the table, he dials and places it on speaker.

“It’s about fucking time, you asshole!” Her introduction is unsurprising. “I’ve been trying to call you for almost an hour.”

Roman is already tempted to hang up the phone and block her until further notice. “What do you want, Nia?”

“You need to get down here now.” He’s still not hearing anything that would warrant him moving an inch. “Your fucking Princess Peach wife—”

But at that, Roman’s interest is piqued. He sits forward in his chair. “What about her?” 

“I don’t know, she had a mental breakdown or something and has locked herself in the locker rooms. We can’t get her to come out—”

Right away, Roman gets to blaming and accusing. “What the fuck did you do to her?” Nia can’t respond before he asks the next important question. “Where the fuck was Solo!”

“I didn’t do anything, Roman! And Solo can’t be with her in the fucking women’s locker room!” Nia’s defense is as sharp as his imputation. “I told you that girl isn’t made for this life. She’s a fucking problem! Come get her now, or I’m going to blow the damn doors off myself.”

Highly vexed with Nia’s smart ass mouth as well as the nature of the situation, Roman slams his finger on the end button and stands up from his chair, rolling his shoulders. “Fucking hell.”

Jey, just as confused as everyone else, decides to be the sacrificial lamb, asking, “Roman, what was that—”

“You two come with me. Wise Man. Rikishi. Finish and send out the response to Orton’s proposal.” Roman issues out indisputable commands as he marches out of the room, the twins not hesitating to hop up and follow suit. Confused or not, they know better than to question their cousin when he’s in one of these moods.

They don’t even say anything for the beginning portion of the ride to the Warehouse, a rarity for them considering they always have something to say. But this time, they wait for Roman to break the silence, and he eventually does, still just as angry. 

“I don’t have time to be dealing with this shit!” To say Roman is pissed would be an understatement. He’s livid. For a lot of different reasons, really, maybe even mostly at the fact that his head counsel had the unmitigated gall to even utter Rhodes name around him.

Roman would see the entire empire go up in smoke and flames before he’d ever agree to any sort of alliance with that son of a bitch.

That only adds on top of the fact that the Italian faction of his empire seems to be questioning his ability to lead, as if the data doesn’t clearly support that business has never been better. The cash flow is endless. Numbers don’t lie.

But, Roman knows the real reason for their insubordination. 

It’s because of his father, the Samoan blood that runs through his veins. His being afakasi. Mixed. They believe that following that night, the alliance between the Bloodline and the Guild, an alliance sealed by the marriage of his father and mother, should have been dissolved. That someone from his mother’s side, a full blooded Italian, should sit on that metaphorical throne.

But, that’s not the case.

Roman assumed power because it is his by birthright, and he’ll be damned if he lets some ignorant fucks try to take it from him.

So yes….there are a lot of different reasons for his anger.

But, it’s a lot easier to blame it on the reason he’s in an SUV now, heading to a place he didn’t even plan to attend today.

“I’m not going to keep dealing with this shit with her.” He’s not even entirely sure who he’s speaking to at this point, or if he’s directing his statements to anyone in particular. Just needing to vent and get it out.

“What do you mean keep dealing?” Jimmy is the first to pick up on his cousin’s wording. “Something like this happen before?” 

The twins look between each other and then back at Roman who runs his hand over his face, realizing that if there’s anyone he can trust to keep this between them, it’s the twins. Annoying and sometimes dimwitted, they’re notoriously loyal and can sometimes provide sage advice.

“She had a complete meltdown on the wedding night. Panic attack, wouldn’t stop crying.” Roman conveniently leaves out the part of him talking her down from a panic attack. They don’t need to know that. 

No one needs to know that.

“After ya’ll….”

“No.” He answers, honestly. “We didn’t even do it. She was too hysterical.”

“Wait a minute.” It doesn’t surprise Roman that Jimmy is the first to put two and two together. “So you ain’t even fucked her yet? But you said—”

“I know what I said.” He doesn’t need to be reminded of anything. Roman’s memory is long and sharp. “I also know what I do and don’t feel like dealing with right now.”

“Uce, the only reason you even married this girl was so that she could give you an heir. How the hell is that supposed to happen if she won’t even let you touch her?” As much as Roman wants to snap at his cousins, he can’t. He can’t because they’re right. It’s something he’s thought about on and off since the wedding night.

It’s painfully evident to him that Solana’s mental state is….fragile, to stay the least.

He doesn’t need fragility.

He doesn’t do fragility.

The same way he apparently can’t do her.

“Maybe you need to just annul the shit and cut your losses while it’s still early.” Jey suggests, and Roman can’t deny the idea has a level of appeal to it. Until the next part leaves his cousin’s mouth. “Send her back to her family.”

“No.” That’s an easy no. He’s not entirely opposed to the idea of annulment, but what’s not an option is sending her back to that house of horrors. The only way he can see himself doing that is if he’s put a bullet in both her brother and father’s head, which technically, is the plan anyway.

He would just be making some…..timeline adjustments.

“I won’t send her back there. That’s a death wish.”

Maybe set her up with some money and a house. Let her live out her days with her damn writing, reading, and cooking, the only three things she seems capable of doing without fear. But even thinking that, Roman wonders just how capable she is of living on her own.

Xavier kept the girl so damn sheltered. He’d have to keep a security detail on her at all times. Maybe keep Solo with her. She seems to have grown somewhat comfortable with him. 

The same with Naomi.

Or, so he thought. People who are moving in the right direction don’t lock themselves in public fucking locker rooms.

Jimmy also points out, validly, “well, you obviously can’t keep her around if she literally can’t do the one job she has.”

“Let’s not be irrational, alright?” Jey, in a twist of faith, tries to be the voice of reason. “That girl can cook.”

Jimmy’s eyes light up. “Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Sure enough, he switches his tune. “Man, Soso ain’t even that bad, uce. You just gotta be patient with her.”

The change of tune doesn’t surprise Roman, but his suggestion is almost comical. If not for the fact that he’s already in a sour ass mood. “Do I look like a patient man?”

“No, but you do look like a man who could benefit from learning how to be patient,” Jimmy’s rebuff is quick and sharp. “That’s why you and Jey on high blood pressure medication right now. Both ya’ll hotheaded asses be getting yourselves all upset over nothing. Probably why you’re going gray too.”

There may be some element of truth to what he’s saying, but it’s also irrelevant to the issue at hand.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mutters, and it’s the truth, because that’s what Roman does. He figures shit out. 

He always figures shit out.

The SUV is barely parked when Roman flings the door open, slamming it shut behind him, not knowing exactly what he’s about to walk into.

“What happened?” Roman’s demand is accompanied by his powerful stride into the Warehouse, Nia immediately rolling her eyes and pointing to Naomi.

“Ask her. She was the last one to interact with her.”

Naomi is unsurprised by both Nia throwing her under the bus as well as Roman directing his fury in her direction.

“What the fuck happened?”

As someone who’s been involved with the Bloodline and their family members for over a decade, she’s used to both Roman’s anger as well as being on the receiving end of said anger. So, her response is calm and to the point. “Like I told Nia, we trained, and she was fine. She actually did well today. I had another training session after her, so we agreed on the next date, and she left for the locker rooms. That’s it.”

Naomi’s answer is unhelpful, but he believes her. Knows she’s being honest. It’s just that her honesty doesn’t do shit for him.

“Clear the place.” It’s directed to Nia even if his focus is still on Naomi.

Nia steps forward, irritation undeniable. “Roman, seriously? We have matches lined up—”

“I don’t care. I want it cleared now, Nia.” She’s about to protest again, but he lifts his hand, warning, “I’m not in the mood, so don’t fucking test me.” 

Nia isn’t stupid. She might be able to teeter the lines some days with her cousin, but this clearly isn’t one of those days. Grumbled protests stay within the confines of her inner dialogue as she turns on the edge of her heel to start emptying the Warehouse.

The twins step forward, asking, “what you need us to do?”

Nothing. He doesn’t want anyone to do anything aside from leaving him the hell alone, but that’s not an option. So, he moves quick to find a task for them. Naomi as well. “Check the cameras. Something happened, and I want to know what.”

“What if—”

“Check the cameras.” At this point, Roman’s about to kick them all out if people keep questioning him like he isn’t the fucking Tribal Chief. 

Control has always been a big thing for Roman.

When one doesn’t have much, or any, as a child, they overcompensate, and then some, as an adult.

He recognizes that fully. 

As all parties move to follow through on his orders, Roman heads toward the locker rooms, ignoring the complaining of the gym goers having to prematurely leave against their own volition. He’s not focused on that, just on the panel near the doors, a panel he’s never had to use until this day.

A panel only he can operate and use as its his biometrics and only his. Again, a man who likes control.

It takes less than a minute for him to gain access, the door automatically opening. Roman steps in and closes it behind him. 

“Solana.” He’s certain she won’t answer him, won’t magically do a 180 and feel well enough to step out, but he does feel like at least making his presence known to her will minimize her fear and surprise. 

Because one of the first things he notices and hones in on is sound, listening for any and all sounds that could lead him in her direction, and it’s a bit on the easy side considering there’s only the sound of running water coming from one area. And if he had to guess, one specific shower stall. 

Carefully, his steps take him from one end of the room to the other, moving in the direction of the woman he needs to find.

And he does find her. 

He finds her sitting on the floor of the shower, naked, enclosed in the corner, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring like she’s in a state of shock, like she’s not aware of where she is or what she’s doing. Like she’s not aware of the heat of the water bearing down on her body.

“What the hell?” Roman’s first reaction is a modicum of shock, the heat from the steam alone almost instantly suffocating him. Naturally, he moves toward her, to cut it off, but her scream of terror stops him prematurely. 

“No!” It’s been a while since Roman has heard that level and depth of fear in someone’s voice, in the hefty depth of their sorrow. She’s petrified. “P–please don’t.”

It’s for that he actually hesitates, doing his best not to shout at her because that’s clearly the last thing she needs. “Solana, I’m not gonna fucking touch you, but you’re burning yourself!”

While he does his best to keep his eyes focused on non–inappropriate areas, he can already see the reddening of her arms and back. If she already hasn’t burned herself.

Again, he tries to reason with her, which is such a strange experience. Roman doesn’t negotiate with people. He does whatever the fuck he wants and cuts down anyone who has something to say about it. But this, this is a completely different experience he’s not entirely sure he knows how to navigate in a way that won’t fuck this girl up even more than she already is. 

“I’m just going to shut the water off.” Announcing his intentions seems like the next best thing, even if it seems to do little to calm her. So, he bites the bullet and moves fast enough to where she can’t protest until it’s already done.

Which is exactly what happens. 

“No! I—I need—I need to get clean. I need—” She starts crying again, hugging her legs closer to her body. “I can still feel—their hands—”

“Did someone touch you?” Interrupting her isn’t a good idea, especially with the way anger naturally floats into his tone. It’s almost impossible for it not to. If someone fucking touched her….“ Solana….what happened?”

She gasps, shaking her head, pleading almost. “Please….please don’t m–make me t–t–talk about it.”

There’s a distant look in her eyes, one that’s both uncomfortably but extremely familiar to Roman. He knows what it looks like for someone to be physically present but mentally elsewhere. That’s what Solana is right now. 

She’s not talking about today but something else, something much darker that whatever happened today only triggered. 

Roman slowly starts to crouch down in front of her but she jerks back. “I’m not going to touch you, Solana,” he again reiterates. “But you can’t stay in here.” He starts to remove his jacket, reaching it over to her. “We have to go back to the house.”

Again, she’s panicking, protesting. “I can’t—I can’t go out t–t–there.”

“I had the place cleared,” he explains. “There’s no one out there except for the twins, Naomi, and Nia.” Truthfully, he’s starting to wonder if he should have asked them to leave too. He didn’t know she'd be this frazzled. 

“Come on," he encourages.

Eventually, she accepts his jacket, and Roman stands back up to his full height, turning around and allowing her the privacy he’s sure she’d want. She steps forward, Roman seeing she’s hugging herself keeping his jacket covering her body. 

She keeps her head down, obviously still shaken up, still messed up from a lot of things. He honestly doesn’t know where the trauma stops and ends with this girl.

Roman directs her. “Get dressed. Meet me outside.” He looks down at her, needing some level of acknowledgement. “Okay?”

Solana surprises him by glancing up, nodding softly, walking away to what he would guess is the locker where her clothes are. 

Pleased that she’s at least well enough to be left alone to follow through on a simple task, Roman exits the locker room. He approaches the desk, the twins immediately standing up. It’s not lost upon him that Naomi and Nia are nowhere to be seen. If he had to guess, Jimmy sent Naomi home, not wanting her to bear anymore of Roman’s wrath. And Nia left to avoid unleashing her wrath on Roman, neither of which he’s entirely upset about. 

He has no interest in seeing either of them right now.

Jimmy speaks first. “We found something.”

“Send it to me.” Roman is smart. Always has been. It’s not difficult for him to connect the dots to see that someone clearly fucked with Solana. And he’s almost certain whatever footage the twins found will confirm and show exactly how she was fucked with. The same way he’s entirely certain that managing his anger seeing as such is damn near if not wholly impossible.

And she doesn’t need that right now. She’s already a hot mess. Being exposed to his explosive temper will only exacerbate that, so being sent the footage for him to view when he’s alone and can respond as violently as he wants is the best route.

Especially with his next order.

“Whoever it is, bring em’ to Asylum.” He adds, as if it needs to be specified. “Tonight.” 

Jey nods, and Roman notices there’s an edge to his voice. The same way there’s an edge in Jimmy’s expression. They seem pissed. “You got it.” And for some reason, Roman has a burning guess that it has to do with whatever they found rather than it being directed toward him. 

Waiting for Solana to exit the locker rooms, Roman blows out a deep breath and scratches his beard. This day has been a shitshow for a variety of reasons, but this reason in particular, this thing with Solana, it ranks pretty high up there.

He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing to do with this girl. 

“Jimmy.”

“Whassup?”

“Text Paul. Tell him I want Solana’s medical records. All of them.”

Roman knows now he needs answers, specific answers regarding exactly what he’s dealing with. And Solana is clearly in no position to share these things with him, not that he’d even want her to. 

She’d probably have to be admitted somewhere if he tried that shit. 

Jimmy looks understandably confused but affirms, “I gotchu.”

And with that, Roman also pulls out his phone, scrolling through his contacts, selecting the thread and typing out a message he doesn’t really think twice about.

Roman: Dwayne. Change of plans. I’ll come when I can, but now’s not a good time. I have shit here I need to handle first.

Roman: In the meantime, take my name out their fucking mouths. 

————

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

And just like that, Solana knows that he knows what happened. Knows about Austin and Grayson.

And it turns her stomach. 

Roman took her back to the house. He left her alone, giving her time and space to come down from her breakdown. And even in sitting in her room, writing out her feelings about the day's events, she knew. Solana knew that it wasn’t that simple. That Roman wouldn’t just leave what happened today at that.

That he’d want to know what happened, what triggered it, but naively, she tried to convince herself he’s too busy of a man to deep dive and find out on his own. To push her for answers. 

She’s wrong.

She’s wrong because that’s the first thing to leave his mouth when he finds her in the kitchen. 

Roman’s question, however, is valid and understandable, even if just the thought alone of having this conversation makes Solana physically uncomfortable.

Still, given everything that’s happened today, she can’t blame him for wanting answers.

She just doesn’t have them to give.

Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I—I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” His tone is full of mockery and frustration that she also can’t blame him for but physically finds herself feeling unsettled. “Bullshit. I want an answer, Solana.”

Her skin feels hot, stomach starting to knot. “I just—I don’t—”

“I can’t handle problems you have if you don’t fucking tell me that you have a problem in the first place.”

“I’m sorry—”

At that, Roman snaps, unintentionally, but also a build-up from all of the day’s events. “Stop fucking apologizing!”

What he doesn’t expect is for her to jump back away from him, so much so that she falls to the floor and hurriedly moves back against the cabinet, as she shouts in a panic, “I’m sorry!” Her arms are crossed in front of her body, a defensive position, like she’s waiting, bracing.

Waiting for him to hit her.

Roman’s been in this position countless times. Standing before people as they begged for mercy, begged for him to not enact his vengeance, to rule out his judgment as judge, juror, and executioner. And it’s always been a thrill for him, a boost to his ego, a reminder of his power.

And not once has he ever felt bad for causing such a reaction.

Not until this moment. 

With slow, careful movements, Roman also moves to the floor, one leg outstretched, the other hiked so his foot is planted on the ground. His arm casually resting on his knee. “Solana….do you remember what I said to you that day at your job?”

She's still waiting for the inevitable, waiting for him to lash out, for him to hit her. But, she’s confused by the fact that instead of him doing so just yet, he's sitting on the floor opposite of her. And somehow, she finds it in her to focus on his question. He said a couple of noteworthy things that day, but somehow, she knows exactly what he’s referring to.

“My…..my clumsiness.” Clumsiness he told her she wouldn’t have to worry about, but she’s been more than worried about it, more waiting for it, expecting it at some point or another. 

“And I meant that shit.” His head is leaned back against the cabinet, and Solana suddenly feels even worse. He seems so stressed out from all of this, from her. “You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you. Not your dad. Not your brother. Not fucking Theory and Waller.” There’s a bit of a pause as he adds, almost quietly, “and especially not me.” 

Solana is unsure what to make of what he’s saying to her. Not sure how to process and take it at face value. It’s hard for her to digest the fact that one of the most dangerous and violent men in the country wants her to believe that he’d never put his hands on her. That he’s not someone she needs to be scared of. 

And she doesn't understand it, can’t comprehend how he can not be like every other man in her life. “W–why?”

“Cause unlike your piece of shit family, The Bloodline has morals. I’m not a good man, Solana, and I don’t pretend to be. But, I’ve never hit a woman, and I never will.” Roman never pictured himself having to explain to a woman why he has no desire to beat her. Yet, here he fucking is. “Real men don’t do that shit.”

Solana doesn’t know what to say to that, is still not sure what to say to any of it. But then, Roman is speaking again.

“It’s no secret. I have a temper, and that’s not going to change. I’m not going to change. Not for you, not for anyone.” Solana knows this, knows this very well, and understands it just as much. She would never expect him to change his ways, especially for the likes of her. “But, I—I’ll try to be mindful of it around you.” 

That…..throws her for a loop. Why? Why would he do anything for her? What has she done to make him even feel like he should? Except stress him out and cause him unnecessary problems.

Roman continues, asserting, “but, you’ve gotta start fucking telling me shit. I need you to meet me halfway here. I need you to communicate with me. You can’t spend the rest of your life writing what you refuse to say out loud.” 

She licks her lip, a nervous action, replying as best she can, “I’m not—I’m not used to—” She’s not used to people caring about her, caring about her wellbeing, and maybe that’s too strong and too inaccurate to describe what Roman is saying. It’s certainly how it feels though. “I—I’ll try.”

He seems pleased by this, probably not fully satisfied but enough for him to drop the subject. And she appreciates that, and is thankful for it. This day has already been a lot, too much. She’s so fucking tired. 

Roman says nothing else, not that she needs him to, not that he needs to. But, as he stands up, turning to leave, she finds herself asking him, “where—where are you going?”

His answer is simple but ominous. “I told you. No one lays a hand on you.” He grabs his jacket off the sofa, sliding it on as he vows, “I’m gonna make sure everyone understands that shit from here on out.”

—-------

Asylums, historically, have been places of horror. Where the lives of so many end in cruel and undeserved ways. Screams and pleas falling on deaf ears, memories of terror forever etched in the walls and halls of a building that’s only seen suffering.

It’s a fitting name for Roman’s location for interrogation. 

Torture. Because there is no being interrogated by the Tribal Chief. It’s just straight up, unadulterated torture. And truth be told, it’s a bit of a last, or maybe second resort. Killing someone in the moment is much easier, preferred. A shot to the head, a knife across the throat, even the snap of a neck. All much easier than methodical, drawn out ending of lives.

But some instances, some circumstances call for something more, something sinister, something lasting.

And that’s exactly what Theory and Waller are going to get.

By the time Roman walks into the building, sliding and tossing his jacket to the side, the twins have done a decent job roughing them up. One of them—he could never tell the difference—nor did he care or will it matter in a few hours, has a black eye that’s swollen shut. The other’s nose is crooked and bleeding, most likely broken. Their clothes are already stained with sweat, blood, and dirt. 

They’re both tied down by their wrists and ankles that he can see have started to dig into their skin. Their chairs are situated opposite each other. Good. That’ll make this even better. Calmly, Roman walks over, snapping his finger as Jimmy and Jey step back, visibly pleased with their warm up. 

He crouches down between them, looking back and forth between both with a smirk. “Gentleman, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” One of them, the taller of the two looks scared shitless while the other is glaring with idiotic defiance. Like he clearly thinks he and his friend are going to leave this building alive. 

They’ll leave.

Just in pieces.

“I’m Roman.” His voice is slick ice. “Roman Reigns.” There’s a rush of adrenaline that soars through Roman’s big body seeing the fear flash in both sets of irises. Good. They should be fucking terrified. “But, I do know someone you have met.” His voice goes cold again. “My wife.”

“Actually, I saw you meet my wife, but you didn’t just meet her, did you?” Roman smiles, shaking his head. “Naw man….ya’ll did a hell of a lot more than that.” 

Roman doesn’t need to have footage of just what happened in that locker room. He can paint the image all on his own, and it’s an image that makes his blood go cold. The footage of them in the hallway was damning enough. “You cornered her, didn’t you? You waited until she was alone and vulnerable and you harassed her. You sexually harassed her. My wife.” 

Roman shrugs, looking between the two. “What ya’ll think should happen?” Their mumbled and grumbled voices are incoherent against the gags in their mouths. Laughing quietly, he continues, “now, now, I’m a fair Tribal Chief.” Roman stands up, walking over to the wall of tools and weapons laid out. He settles for the hunting knife. “So here’s what I’m gonna do, I’m gonna let you tell me which body part goes first.”

He motions for the twins to remove their gags and upon that removal, the defiant punk is the first to speak, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

The other one, however, is damn near in tears. “Pl—please. We–we’re sorry.”

“Shut up, Grayson! He–he’s bluffing.” Theory, he thinks, decides to prolong his torture even longer by reiterateing, “we didn’t even fucking touch her. The bitch is ly—”

Roman sees red, again, most likely a buildup of the day's events. But, it’s pure rage that fills him as he slams the Buck 119 down against Theory’s left hand, cleanly slicing off four of his fingers. 

Theory’s screams fill the room as the twins chuckle, Jey taunting, “who’s the bitch now, huh?”

Roman grabs his chin, vowing, “I’m gonna make you suffer the longest.”

“We didn’t hurt her, I swear.” Grayson is now crying, clearly ready to beg, plead, and whatever else it takes to get him out of this hell. “Austin just—he had her up against the locker, he–he pinned her, but we didn’t rape her. I swear!”

Grayson unintentionally paints a picture in Roman’s head of what he already figured is what happened, what he figured is what sent Solana into her traumatized state.

Big mistake.

Roman brings the knife down on both of Grayson’s thighs, intentionally aiming for near the top of his knees, his quadriceps, effectively rendering him permanently paralyzed. His screams of pain are music to Roman’s ears. Roman grabs him by his jaw, screaming, “who the fuck do you think you are! She’s mine! You hurt her and think I’m not gon break every bone in your fucking body? You don’t ever fuckin touch what’s mine! You understand me!”

The younger man is practically hysterical at this point. “Please….” Roman looks down, hit with the stench of urine, seeing that the one with the accent has pissed himself. Disgusted, he backs away, hitting the pathetic son of a bitch with a blow across his cheek that sends teeth flying out his mouth.

He turns back around, eyes focused on a now teary eyed Theory. “I was going to be fair, let you decide in which order I dismember you, but now…now I’m just gonna make you watch as I kill you both, piece by fucking piece."

He looks over at his cousins who seem completely unaffected and almost indifferent to the gruesome scene unfolding before them. “Jimmy.” Roman doesn’t hesitate, a sadistic smile on his handsome face. “Give me the saw.”

—------

Blood is such a pain in the ass to get out of almost everything. 

Roman showered a good twenty minutes before leaving the Asylum, and he can still see specks of dried blood, or maybe it’s bone, or flesh. 

There’s a sense of satisfaction that fills him though, that almost calms him as he imagines the look of pure terror and fright on their faces as he methodically took their lives, piece by piece. Well fucking deserved in Roman’s opinion.

And he’d do it all over again if he could.

Minus the blood and guts and shit, because that's just fucking annoying. Roman readies to take another shower, hitting the light switch near his bedroom door when he immediately notices the brown journal sitting in the middle of the bed.

There’s a second to pause and another second for him to realize he’s seen a similar book before. Solana. He’s seen her writing in one very close to the one on his bed. 

Less apprehensive, Roman walks over to see it’s open to a page filled with neat writing he knows must belong to Solana.

Lifting it, he reads what she’s written.

Roman,

I know you don’t want me saying sorry anymore, and I know you want me to talk to you, but it’s really hard for me. I’m not used to this. I don’t know how to talk to you. 

And I know you said I can’t write, but writing has always been the only way I can express myself, so I will try to talk to you more, but….until then, can I just write?

Solana

Right off the bat, Roman’s first and initial response is no.

Because why the fuck would he write like something out of a damn movie when she could just fucking talk to him?

But, that’s the thing, that’s exactly what she’s trying to express to him, that she can’t, that it’s too hard for her. Right now, at least. Because there’s also a promise, a promise to try to transition to more verbal communication, Roman’s preference.

Granted, he hates talking to most people in general, but it’s preferred over writing damn letters like the 1700s.

And then he thinks about it, recalling earlier today and the pure terror in her voice, the fear wracking her body so much so that she didn’t even realize she was this close to third degree burns. He has to be realistic here, realistic about what she is and isn’t capable of.

As frustratingly slow as it is, she is trying, in her own way. He can’t fault her for that.

Regardless of how he feels about it, this is the best she can do. For now. And he’ll hold her to working towards that, because growth doesn’t happen in comfort zones. She has to get used to being uncomfortable with new things. That’s just how it is.

But this….he can meet her halfway.

Grabbing a pen out his nightstand, Roman writes out his response, taking and laying it out on the kitchen island for her to see first thing in the morning.

Solana,

I recognize communication is challenging for you. If this is what works for you, I’ll do it. For now.

Do you work this weekend? If so, call off. 

I’m taking you somewhere.

Also, there's nothing you can't tell me.

I promise you that.

Roman

[sturn5iolo]

BECOMING THIS

synopsis: you and matt broke up and now your slowly losing yourself, and becoming someone you hate.

pairing: ex! matt sturniolo x f!reader

warnings: angst (not really) , drinking / drugs , use of y/n (i’m sorry)

you grab another plastic red cup, filing it with random alcohol siting on the counters not even daring to look at what they are. taking the mixed concoction, chugging the whole thing in seconds. you feel the burn go down your throat as you stumble forward onto the cold counter of a strangers house. 

a few hours before, your friends had to beg you to come to this party. of course when they asked you were high off your mind and you agreed.

you feel your friend ava come up behind you, “hey do you wanna come sit with me, you don’t look too good..” she spoke in your ear.

“noooo im fine let me do what i want.” you slurred out to her, pouring yourself another drink. ava walked away not wanting to budge anymore.

you move your body to a couch nearby. a brunette boy sat on the farthest side of the couch, you sit down a few inches away from him. he had a joint in between his lips and a lighter in one of his hands, you watch him from the corner of your eye.

he takes one long drag before pulling it away from his lips, suddenly as he blows the smoke out he turns and faces you, “you wanna hit?” he asks. you scoot closer to him while slurring out a “okay..”

the unknown boy moves the joint from his lips to yours, watching closely as you inhale the smoke. after a few long hits and passing the joint back and forth, you start coughing, feeling the alcohol and weed start to mix together and make you cross faded.

while sitting with the boy, your other friend gia comes running towards you and grabbed your arm, “there you are! i was looking all over for you,” she yells out loud to you over the music, pulling you away.

as you get pulled around someone bumps into you, making you stumble backwards a bit. it was matt.

“oh my bad i didn-” he starts but cuts himself off as he looks at your face. “y/n.”

your lips form a straight line as you nod. matt takes in your bloodshot eyes and immediately understands what is up, “are you fucking high right now?”

you scoff at him and giggle, “none of your business.” you say walking outside but matt follows you, “uhm actually yes it is.” he defends.

feeling the cold air hit your body was a relief, “how matt we broke up like two months ago?” you question, still having the weed and alcohol in your system barely processing this conversation.

“because y/n, you always hated stuff like that! you would try convincing people not to drink or smoke and here you are!” matt says to you. he knows exactly why your doing all this, and it’s because of him. he’s the one who broke your heart.

“i don’t understand the problem matt.” you bluntly replied. “the problem is this! you becoming this! i know we’re broken up but i can’t live knowing this is happening.” he cried out to you.

you run your hands through your frizzy hair, “well that’s too bad matt. your going to have to.” you smile, walking off into the darkness with just your phone in hand.

a/n : this is so horrible but i’m posting it anyways erm first fic on this account 🥲👏

[torscrawls]

Batman’s no-kill policy is ectophobic

Summary:

“Well that just makes it sound like he thinks ghosts are worse than humans, you know? And! It got me thinking, Batman refuses to kill his enemies, right?” “Right,” Tim faintly agreed, desperately trying to make sense of this conversation. Phantom relentlessly continued, oblivious to Tim’s spiraling sanity. “Maybe that’s because he thinks that ghosts are less than humans! He doesn’t want to create more of us.”

Phantom is upset that Batman refuses to kill his enemies. Tim just wants his shift to start so he can get out of this conversation.

Words: 1 245

You can read the whole thing on AO3.

-

Tim was sitting in the break room of the Watchtower, mindlessly flipping channels on the big wall-mounted TV while trying to wake up for his next shift. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Phantom slowly drift in front of the big windows, face almost pressed against the glass and his whole attention fixed on the stars outside.

This in and of itself wasn’t anything uncommon; Phantom seemed to have an almost obsessive fascination with space, but what had caught Tim’s attention was the frown on the ghost’s face. Normally he would have a dreamy expression if not a big smile on his face as he watched the expanse outside the windows, but not today. And Tim was willing to admit that it was getting to him.

After another few minutes of switching between channels, silence, and no change in the frowning Tim pressed the off button on the remote and heaved a sigh as he turned to face the window and the floating ghost. “What’s wrong?”

Phantom startled as if he had forgotten he wasn’t alone in the room, or as if he had forgotten he could be seen by others. He had a bad habit of forgetting to turn himself visible and scaring the shit out of people around the tower. He looked over his shoulder and fixed Tim with a wide eyed, literally shining, look of confusion. “What do you mean wrong?”

Tim made a vague gesture at the ghost. “You’ve been frowning ever since I got here. Did something happen?”

Phantom turned around in the air, spinning on his own axis until he was looking at Tim upside down. Tim noted that his hair stayed in the same position throughout. He wasn’t jealous, not at all.

“Well, I was just thinking... Does Batman hate ghosts?”

Tim blinked, thrown by the direction the conversation had taken. “What? No?”

The frown on Phantom’s face deepened as he righted himself in the air. “But he just told me that he ‘was sorry for my loss’, as if something bad had happened? And when I asked him what he meant he said he regretted not being able to save me.”

Tim paused, weighting his words carefully before slowly saying, “I’m sure he just meant that he was sorry that you had… You know…” Tim trailed off, winced, and then forced out, “Died.”

It was always a hard subject to breach, nobody liked to think about death. The Justice League and the Batfamily had all come to the unanimous decision to avoid the subject around their newest member since they were convinced that he would react badly to the topic.

Phantom snorted. “Yeah I know. Kinda hard to miss.”

“I didn’t mean—”  

But Phantom cut him off, “Wait. Is that why none of you talk about death around me? You’re scared that I’m gonna be, what? Offended?”

“Well… No?” Tim said unconvincingly.

Phantom laughed. “Oh my Ancients! You did! That’s so cute!”

“You know, we don’t really talk about death with each other either,” Tim said, feeling like he had to defend himself somehow.

Phantom tilted his head, still smiling. “Why?”

Tim blinked, thrown by the question. “Because… People don’t like to think about that?”

Phantom pursed his lips in thought. “See, that’s what I meant! Isn’t that just kinda rude? I mean, I’m dead, does that mean you guys don’t wanna think about me?”

“No?” Now it was Tim’s turn to frown. “That’s different.”

“Hmm,” Phantom hummed, looking unconvinced.

Tim scrambled for a change in subject and latched onto the first thing that came to mind. “So why would you think that Bruce hated you just because he said he was sorry for your loss?”

“Well that just makes it sound like he thinks ghosts are worse than humans, you know? And! It got me thinking, Batman refuses to kill his enemies, right?”

“Right,” Tim faintly agreed, desperately trying to make sense of this conversation.

Phantom relentlessly continued, oblivious to Tim’s spiraling sanity. “Maybe that’s because he thinks that ghosts are less than humans! He doesn’t want to create more of us.”

Tim had to step in at that, feeling like they weren’t on the same page when it came to some very important fundamentals. “Phantom, you—you understand that people don’t like dying, right? It’s the end.”

Phantom tilted his head with a look of confusion. “It’s not though?”

And Tim guessed that was true. He couldn’t really argue the point with a literal ghost, now could he?

“The town I come from, people don’t really care. Death, life, it’s kinda all the same,” Phantom said happily, as if that wasn’t a very troubling statement to make. And with no respect for Tim’s quickly dwindling sanity, he continued with a thoughtful finger tapping at his lower lip, “Except that death has a lot more flying in it. And energy beams.”

Tim made a mental note to try and find out exactly what town Phantom was talking about. Hopefully it wasn’t one on Earth. He managed a resigned, “Of course,” and hoped that was the end of the conversation. He needed to have enough energy left for his whole shift after all.

But Phantom just nodded and continued on, “Batman refusing to kill his enemies is all just an obvious ploy not to have them move on as ghosts!”

“Obviously,” Tim faintly agreed.

“That’s messed up! He just wants to trap them in the human realm with him so he can torment them forever!” Phantom shook his head. “I know a couple of people in the Zone who would love to exchange torture ideas with him. I thought that Fright Knight was scary and now I’m working with a guy like that, can you believe it?”

Tim couldn’t. “I—I don’t think that’s what he means by that.”

Phantom huffed in annoyance and crossed his arms. “It’s blatant ectophobia, is what it is!”

Tim opened his mouth to try and come up with an argument when the subject of their argument stepped into the break room. Bruce addressed him with clear disapproval in his voice, “Red Robin, you’re late for your shift.”

Tim had never been so grateful to receive Bruce’s disappointment. At least he wasn’t alone in this shitshow of a conversation anymore. “I’m sorry. Me and Phantom was just having a conversation about how you’re clearly discriminatory towards ghosts.”

Bruce stopped from where he had turned to leave. “…What?”

Phantom nodded. “Yeah! Don’t think I’ve forgotten your rude comment earlier about your condolences!”

Despite the bizarre situation, Tim almost laughed at the shocked expression on Bruce’s face, visible even under the mask. His father opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again, “I was just saying that I wish I could have helped you before you ended up as a ghost.”

“And I’m saying that that’s clearly showing a preference for living people!”

Bruce pressed his mouth into a thin line before saying, “I think we need to have a conversation about the value of life if you’re going to be joining us on any more rescue missions.”

“See!” Phantom looked at Tim as he gestured angrily at Bruce “There he goes again!”

Tim got up from the sofa. “I’m late for my shift.” And he left the break room as if the ghosts of hell were at his heals. Which they kind of were; Phantom’s angry voice following him down the corridor. He really wasn’t awake enough for this shit.

[rikiislvr]

💜party (2) - nishimura riki

read part one first (or not! it won’t really effect the story TOO much but i’ll still recommend)

@ to remind @riksaes ! <3

niki held the door open for you to go inside the slightly empty restaurant, “wow? gentlemen for once hm?” you giggled and he just shook his head with a slight smile.

“i don’t know what this look you have on me but, it’s not true.” he followed behind you, you just stared at him, he furrowed his eyebrows at your ‘answer’ and licked his lips out of awkwardness.

you two got your seat at a mini booth, the waiter taking your orders, leaving you and niki in a empty restaurant in front of each other.

“so.” he says to you and you turned from the window to look at him, “why do you hate me so much? besides the fact of how i act in school?” he asks.

“you surround yourself around the wrong people, and they influence you. i truly believe you are a civil human if you aren’t around the people you are.” you say, niki listens to your words carefully,

“jake?” he asked, “no! jake’s not too bad. i’m talking about.. the others.”

he nods with a low ‘ahh’. “i see.” he says and you just stared at him. “well. i don’t hate you.” he smiled, you furrowed your eyebrows before a giggle slipped out, making him chuckle.

“really? why not? what if im horrible?” you rest your hand on your palm, “because i’ve been noticing you more often. you seem so—“ he cut himself off,

“soo?” you push him, “so sweet. you’re nice to everyone and you stay in your zone. really good at kicking a damn ball, which i don’t understand— soccer is so hard..” he shook his head.

“basketball is hard? soccer is just running and kicking?!” you defend your sport and he scoffed, “nah. basketballs ways easy, just run— and shoot the ball!” he smiled, as if it was that easy.

“whatever.” you turn to the window and giggled to yourself, niki began to realize how much he liked staring at you, you were truly so so beautiful and he wondered if you knew that.

he cleared his throat to prepare himself for what he was gonna do, he lifted his arm and grabbed your chin softly, turning it back to him, your eyes widened and stared at him, “oh..” you shift in your seat.

“you’re really pretty, did you know?” he asked you, you were taken back on the sudden compliment, but you.. surprisingly weren’t complaining. “thank you niki.” you shot him a smile, and he swore he felt his heart melt.

see— many girls liked niki. it was normal. he didn’t like to admit that but it was true, he walked a foot into school and suddenly has like 100 girls on his ass asking for his number or something.

and he tried giving some of try, taking them on dates but he just.. didn’t feel the spark. not because they weren’t his type, he doesn’t even have one. they just weren’t the one for him.

and he really believed in love and soulmates, he just had to find his.

so when he felt that spark when you smiled at him, he knew something. it’s something he never felt before anyways. he’s always had his eye on you, he just didn’t wanna bother you with his popularity.

because once you’re seen with niki, you’re stuck to his name.

before you could open your mouth to say anything the waiter came over with your pancakes, you cut yourself off with a nervous chuckle as you two thanked her and began to eat.

niki loves pancakes, he immediately cut into them and shoved some in his mouth, his cheeks stuffed as he has syrup in the corner of his mouth.

“dude! you look so cool 24/7 but as soon as you eat pancakes you look like a baby.” you giggled and reached over and wiped his lip with a napkin, he stuffed back a chuckled since his mouth was full.

you giggled and began to your pancakes as you two shared a comforting silence, just the sound of the forks hitting the plates softly, you checked your phone, it was 1am.

“we should hurry.. it’s really late and i’m supposed to be staying over at karina’s.” you say, niki couldn’t speak so he just nod and continued chewing.

-

you two finished eating and niki paid for you, and you two were back to walking on the silent quiet rodes as he was walking you to karina’s first.

“thanks for paying for me.” you break the silence as you two finally arrived at karina’s house, he just nods softly staring at you, maybe he wasn’t so bad. when he isn’t trying to show off 24/7.

you cleared your throat. what now? do you just.. walk away or?

i guess so. you dipped your head and began to turn until niki grabbed your arm making you stop, “i really hope this isn’t our last time hanging out like this. i enjoy your presence more than i could admit.” he chuckled looking down at the floor.

you tilt your head, “yeah.. me too.” you smiled, you two just stared at each other, not wanting this night to end yet. not knowing what to say, scared if one of you said the wrong thing, the whole night would be over too soon.

niki felt his heart beating, he stared into your beautiful eyes, and this next move was straight out of nervousness.

he lifted his hands to cup your face, you jumped a little but, you let him. you wanted him too.

you melted in his touch, and he smiled at you. “goodnight, y/n.” he whispered as he continued to stare at you, small smile and his hands cupping your face.

“goodnight niki.” you blink slowly, he chuckled softly before slowly letting go, and began to take small steps backwards until he was fully turned around and down the street.

you stood there and watched him, you could still feel the warmth of his hands on your face.

you couldn’t believe you basically went on a date with one of the most popular kids at school. you just hoped it wasn’t the end, which it wouldn’t be.

maybe you’ll ditch parties more often hm?

a/n: this is so cute ok wtf. hope u liked :)

tl: @certified-ni-ki-lover @noblub-4ulolz @yourmyst4r @vixialuvs @ni-ki-ismyluv @judeduartewannabe @soobs-things @en-chantedtomeetyou @definitelynotherr @heyniki @wntersm @geniejunn @pkjay @baevsxii @k1ttylvr

[pretty-blkgirl]

Soul’s Desire [Ch. 33]

- Masterlist -

~~~~|~~~~

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head when you fell?”

“We can go back to the hospital if you need to”

“I swear to God I’ll get Eunji fired, she went too fucking far”

“Want some more food?”

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“You sure you’re not concussed?”

“Security stopped me from going onstage when I saw you fall”

“You have a bruise on your arm”

Chan was nice enough to allow you some much-needed silence on the car ride to Han and Lee Know’s dorm, but as soon as you two stepped foot in the door, the other seven of your soulmates swarmed you.

Soon, eight worried men were surrounding you, offering food, questioning you, or ranting about how they were going to avenge you.

Han knew half the reason you were upset was because of the backlash you were getting, so that was the main topic after the boys ensured you were full and well-hydrated.

“This is so fucking frustrating” Felix, the usual peacemaker, seethed. You noticed he and Chan spoke English when they were pissed. Their accents were heavier than usual as they ranted to one another, offering solutions to your problems.

“Baby we’ll take care of this, don’t even worry about it” I.N sighed, giving you a look of sympathy

“How so? It’s not like you guys can tell people to stop talking shit about me”

“I can” Hyunjin shrugged, “And I will. Fuck my idol image, I’ll do whatever it takes to defend you”

You smile, “I appreciate that baby, but that’ll do more harm than good”

“A dating rumor will start. Dispatch will eat that shit right up” Seungmin noted, “Then she’ll get more hate. Then the company is involved, internal investigations, hiatuses maybe”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, his irritation apparent but he nodded, agreeing that speaking out may not be the best solution.

“All we can do is let this shit blow over. I mean, people are talking shit but I saw a bunch of Charms defending me”

“I’ve seen some Stays defending you too” Han pointed out, “Actually, anyone with sense is defending you”

“There shouldn’t be a need to defend her in the first place. People are mad because she had a medical emergency. That’s so stupid” Changbin ranted

“People are stupid” Chan sighed, frustration clear in his voice, “What do you wanna do y/nnie? How do you want to handle this?”

Eight pairs of eyes stared at you as you thought about the question. Really, what could you do?

“It can’t be helped” You conclude, “This is just… one of the downsides of being an idol. It sucks but I just gotta deal with it.”

“I’m so sorry baby” Felix frowns, tears welling up in his eyes. You dubbed Felix the “feeler” in the group. Whenever you felt like crying but you didn’t want to let those tears out, he’d do it for you. Same for if you wanted to laugh, or scream. He gave you that relief.

“I feel like we can at least get Eunji fired” Han groaned

“She said it was an accident, plus I can’t blame her entirely. I hadn’t eaten anything the entire day, part of it was my fault too”

“It wasn’t a damn accident” Changbin huffed, “And don’t blame yourself for anything. However, I’m gonna make it my mission to make sure you’re eating and drinking like you’re supposed to”

You nod, knowing when Changbin is serious about something, nothing is going to stop him from doing it.

“You know what? How about we all turn our phones off and just spend time together? No outside distractions, and especially no social media” Hyunjin suggested

Everyone agreed, but you made sure to send a message to your members and manager, letting them know your whereabouts.

I.N. ran to the kitchen and came back with a large plastic bowl. It had little cartoon cats on it, so you knew who it belonged to.

“Everyone put their phones in the bowl. We’re having a soulmate bonding night”

“You sound like Felix” Minho rolls his eyes but is the first to hand over his phone. The rest of you follow suit, with Hyunjin being the last one to do so.

“Let’s pop some popcorn and watch a movie” You suggest, “I’ll pick the movie”

“Nuh uh y/nnie” I.N. protests, “You have a habit of picking sad movies. We aren’t crying tonight”

“Let’s watch a scary movie,” Seungmin says

“Hell no” Chan and Felix seem to say at the same time

“Romance then” Hyunjin smiles

It’s you who sighs this time, “Hyunjin, please. You know I adore you, but nobody wants to see Titanic….again”

“I say we watch an Action Movie,” Changbin says excitedly, “Jurassic Park?”

“We watched that last time” Han whines

“Let’s just do a comedy” Minho grunts, grabbing the remote and picking a random streaming service

You all settle on a random movie you enjoy and the boys have never seen it.

The spacious living room was filled with laughter, sounds of sneaky kisses, and the crunching of popcorn as your movie marathon went on.

At some point, the movies stopped, and you all had sleepy conversations that lasted way longer than they should have.

Before you knew it though, you were curled up in Minho’s bed, wearing only a shirt you stole from his drawer.

You slept in a starfish position, leaving Minho to sneak off to Han’s room to get a chance at a comfortable night’s sleep.

The rest of the boys went to their respective dorms, all giving you a kiss goodnight before leaving.

You dreamt of sunny days and starry nights, lying on the grass with eight familiar faces huddled around you.

It was the best sleep you had gotten in years.

~~~~|~~~~

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