#I’ll be that nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to stop. And I’ll never shut up.

[youthful-vengeance]

You are not alone. -BTW

You aren’t either.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise

Pinky Promise 2

Part 3

Part 4

Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C

You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.

The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.

Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.

The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.

“Seresin.”

“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.

“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.

“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.

“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?

“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.

“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.

“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.

“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.

“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.

“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.

But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.

You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.

It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.

“Yes ma’am?”

“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.

“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.

“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.

“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.

“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.

“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.

“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.

“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.

“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.

Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.

When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.

He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”

Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.

“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.

He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”

You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.

“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.

“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.

“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.

“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.

“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.

“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.

“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.

It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.

“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.

“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.

He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.

“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.

He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.

Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman

He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.

Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.

A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy

[fruitjoos]

★ NSFW, 18+ MDNI | ART DONALDSON, PATRICK ZWEIG

Be a good girlfriend.

part one, part two

—

you and patrick were spending the weekend in art's dorm for a much anticipated movie night.

patrick had excitedly brought back a supernatural film he'd been raving about, and the plan was simple: you'd handle the popcorn, and art was supposed to get the drinks. of course, art had grumbled about this arrangement. "why do i have to do anything when it’s my room and my tv we’re using?" he'd complained, rolling his eyes.

as art flicked the light switch off, signaling the start of the movie, you resolved not to nag him about neglecting the drink duty. however, the popcorn quickly turned into a dry, choking hazard. barely able to swallow, you coughed and spluttered, forcing art to pause the movie before the production company logo even appeared.

“babe,” you whined, your voice rasping, “i’m so thirsty! the popcorn is killing me. please, i'm begging you.” you clutched at art’s shoulder with desperation.

patrick groaned dramatically from the other side of art. “we’re never gonna watch the fucking movie,” he muttered.

“shut up,” you snapped, turning your pleading eyes back to art.

art sighed theatrically and rose from the bed. “fine, i’ll go get some drinks from the vending machine,” he conceded, grabbing some bills from his wallet and tossing it onto his desk.

“i love you!” you yelled as he closed the door, mumbling a yeah, yeah in response.

“okay, we’re alone,” patrick said, turning to face you with wide eyes and raised brows, “let’s make out.” he smirked.

“no, you freak. he's right outside the door,” you tossed a few pieces of popcorn at him. undeterred, he crawled toward you on his hands and knees, his eyes smoldering with desire. “like that’s ever stopped us,” he murmured, kissing your lips. “you’ve jerked me off while we were sleeping in the same bed,” he mumbled against your mouth, the heat of his breath mingling with yours. “so stop pretending to be the good girlfriend you’re not.” his words stung, a sharp contrast to the softness of his touch.

“what?” you retorted, stopping his chest before he could lean in again, momentarily stunned by his brutal honesty. the weight of his accusation hanging heavily in the air between you.

he quickly retracted to his original spot, your heart pounding as the door creaked open. glancing over at you, he saw the confusion in your eyes as art spoke. what had he said wrong? his mind raced, replaying the words he thought were witty, the ones he was sure would make you smile and call him stupid, maybe even laugh. but now, doubt gnawed at him, a sinking feeling settling in his chest.

"okay, blue gatorade," he said, forcing a smile as he tossed the bottle to patrick, who caught it effortlessly. "and water for my sweet girl," he added, his voice softer. he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips before placing the cold bottle in your lap.

"thank you," you mumbled, barely audible, your eyes avoiding his as you leaned back against his pillow.

as the movie flickered across the screen, you shifted, trying to find the most comfortable position on his full-size bed. finally, you settled on laying flat on your stomach, your legs lightly kicking against the headboard. your head rested in art’s lap, as he sat in the space between you and patrick leaned against the wall. the blanket sprawled across them.

you were a good girlfriend, you kept reminding yourself, the thought looping in your mind like a mantra. he’s just a bad friend. okay, maybe you had jerked him off that one time, but it was just once. a mistake. girls make mistakes sometimes. who was patrick to tell you what kind of person you were? the irritation flared within you; patrick, who could barely tell his left from his right, had no right to judge you.

the movie’s dialogue faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you. you could feel the warmth of art’s body, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your shoulder.

you are a good girlfriend.

you slipped your hand underneath the blanket covering art's lower half, your fingers tracing a delicate path up his thigh. the warmth of his skin sent a shiver through you, a thrill that made your heart race. art cleared his throat, the sound almost imperceptible over the movie's dialogue, but you felt the tension in his body.

he grabbed a pillow, placing it strategically between himself and patrick, creating a makeshift barrier to shield your actions from view. the intimacy of the moment was intensified by the secrecy, a silent agreement hanging in the air between you and art. his leg muscles tensed under your touch, and you could sense his effort to remain composed.

he tried to make sliding down his gym shorts appear casual, making it seem like he was smoothing out the perfectly unwrinkled blanket. you pulled your hand back out, and brought it up to your lips, spitting out a gob of your sticky saliva right into your palm, cuffing your hand to be sure you don’t spill any of it.

your hand found its way back to his shaft. he jumped at your cold touch as you pumped his dick at a steady pace. the thick meat warming up between your fingers. you gazed up at him, his eyes glued to the screen. “you like the movie?” you whisper. “mhmm,” he gulped. you squeezed him in your palm, “fu–yeah, i love the movie.”

patrick's attention was abruptly drawn to the weird exchange unfolding beside him. his gaze drifting towards the subtle, yet unmistakable, rustling beneath the blanket. as he cautiously lifted his eyes, they collided with yours. you were already staring at him, a mischievous smirk plucked at the corners of your mouth.

he silently scoffed, turning back to the movie. small whimpers left art’s throat as you tugged on his now rock solid cock. up and down. shlick, shlick, shlick. now that patrick knew what was going on, you could be as wild as you wanted to be, making it known that he wasn’t apart of the fun.

you ducked your head under the comforter, slapping his thick, hot cock on the heart of your tongue. spit drooled from your mouth as you swallowed him through your supple lips. art’s mouth hung open with his eyes closed, not caring how crazy he looked to anybody else watching. his brows furrowed from the pleasure of your warm, velvety tongue slurping him up. you licked and slobbed, making a popping noise as you came up for air.

you pushed the blanket from both you and art. exposing his glistening boner, covered in spit. he scolded you, shouting your name, embarrassed as if neither of the people in the room haven’t already seen it.

“what the fuck?” patrick said, shaking his head. irritation rather than confusion etched across his face. he wasn’t confused at all. “shut up,” you straddled art’s waist, kissing and rocking your clothed pussy against his bare cock, “i need to fuck you so bad,” you breathed out, tilting his head back to kiss his lips.

“patrick’s in here,” he clenched his teeth, pressing down your hips to stop your movement. “he can join if he wants,” you smirked, leaning back on the bed to pull off your shorts and underwear, giving patrick a clear shot of your sopping cunt. “or he can sit there and watch. like the good friend i know he’s not.” you said, mocking his words from earlier, climbing back on top of art.

you and art both waited on his response, breathing heavily.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi bubbs, 💖 anon here. I never made a request before, but I'd like to make one now. Can you write a fic in which reader gets injured and Azriel takes care of her and tends to her wounds? Reader has been through a lot in the past so she doesn't know how to react to someone taking care of her. Both of them are also secretly pining for one another. Pls write it if you have the time, no pressure. Much love to you Queen, bye bye💖.

Hey, gorgeous! Enjoy!💕✨

Keep you safe

Azriel hated when Rhys sent you out on missions alone or with anyone who wasn’t him. When it came to you he trusted no one. It was stupid. Over the top stupid but he just couldn’t. Couldn’t make himself settle when he wasn’t the one guarding your back. And then maybe it was the fact that something deep within his chest burnt for you. It was easy with you. From day one you had managed to see right through him. Right through everything he thought he was masking like a true mastermind.

“If you had come to nag me about putting her on a search team with other boys, you don’t have to. By now I know what you will drill me for”, Rhys spoke up before Azriel had a chance to fully enter his study. “I just don’t understand why you do it”, the spymaster slowly closed the door before turning to his brother, “You know how much it unsettles me”. Rhys put down his pen, looking straight up at Azriel, “Man up then and tell her how you feel”, and that was enough to make Azriel's shoulders go stiff. “Stop with that nonsense. Aren’t you tired of trying to play a matchmaker?”, but Azriel’s words only made Rhys smirk. “You can make her yours, admit how you’re feeling, and have an advantage over my decisions. Or you can sulk for the rest of your life because, brother, you’re not getting any younger”, Rhys’s eyes pierced through Azriel. He slowly nodded his head before turning around, “You don’t know shit”, he reached for the door handle once more, “Oh, and if something happens to her because of this choice of yours”, his eyes now much darker, landed on his high lord, “Your pretty face will take a beating. My condolences to Feyre”, and with that, he was gone.

It was an anxious couple of days of sitting around. The reports Azriel had to fill out were adding up but he couldn’t get his mind to settle. And then he heard it. The sea of voices. Among them a voice he would recognize anywhere. Azriel is quick to jump to his feet, rushing down the stairs. And there you stand. Your fighting leather was still on as you gave your last orders to the soldiers that had come with you.

“Y/n”, the shadow singer called out with a tight nod. Your eyes. Tired eyes meet his. A light smile pulls at the corner of your mouth, “Azriel”. The soldiers give clipped nods to both of you before hurrying away. “Didn’t even say goodbye”, Azriel crosses his arms over his chest. “You know i hate goodbyes”, you snicker, turning slightly only to hiss beneath your breath. “Is everything okay?”, the question falls out of his mouth way too quickly but your well-being has been the center of attention ever since you left. “Yeah, perfect. Need to give Rhys a rundown”, and that’s when his eyes notice your clammy-looking skin, the slight tremble.

Azriel reaches out, grabbing your arm, and the dampness of it strikes him. He lets go in a hurry only to be met with a bloody palm. “Yn…”, it’s barely a whisper as his vision zeros onto the crimson staining his skin. “It is nothing”, you brush it off so carelessly that it makes Azriel’s blood boil. “Nothing? You’re bleeding all over the foyer”, he whispers shouts, stepping right in front of you, blocking your way away from him. “I’ll clean it up?”, you try, not too sure as to what would calm this sudden fury burning in him. His wild eyes look you over. And then there is darkness. The coldness of his shadows surrounded everything.

“Sit”, he orders before the mist of his darkness even has a chance to fizzle out. “Azriel you can’t just take me like that”, you hiss out both in pain and frustration. To his apartment outside the city, he had winnowed you. Just like that. Just because. “But it seems like I did”, he sassed over his shoulder before pointing to the sofa, “sit down, woman, before I sit you down”. You gape at him for a moment. Under any other circumstance you would be putting him in his place but now… now you just feel weaker and weaker by the minute.

“You are being childish”, you point out, welcoming the feeling of ease once your body eases against the sofa. “You are being careless”, he throws your own words at him. Ones that you had thrown at him on multiple occasions after his missions. “Shirt off”, Azriel asks, motioning to the material. “Azriel, this is nothing”, you try to reason once again. You don’t want him to see you like this. You can lick your wounds on your own. Have done that your whole life.

“Say that one more time”, it’s a dare you know that. Know him. Just as you know the more you push, the more likely it is that he will be the one doing the undressing. “Fine”, you huff, “I’ll show you so you will get out of my hair”, it’s mean and rude at best, because he had been nothing but nice. You just can’t wrap your head around someone caring. But even you halt at the sight of the angry-looking gash surrounded by bruises. You haven’t looked at it since the attack. You felt it yes. But it didn’t feel that bad. Not to mention the puss slowly forming at the edges. Infected. A chill runs down your back.

“Fuck”, Azriel’s voice fills in the silence. “It wasn’t…”, you start but your voice dies. “Sit, or better lay down”, and there it is, the collected composure, “I’ll fetch clean clothes and Madja’s slaves”, he’s quick to step into his neatly arranged storage room. Searching through the medical supplies. “She’s not in Velaris now but I will make sure she comes here first thing when she returns”, he’s rambling now. Meaning it’s bad. He thinks it’s bad too.

You’re only in your breast wrap when Azriel returns. He would admire you. What man wouldn’t but not now. Not when your chest is coming up and down in broken breathes. Your face looking ashy. “This will hurt. Hold onto my shoulders”, he kneels between your legs, dampening the material. “I’m good”, you say through clenched teeth, letting your head fall over the back of the sofa. Azriel watches you, “I warned you”, he mutters before pressing the cloth to your wound.

Your hands shoot up as quickly as the pain making you cry out. Reaching for the man tending your wounded side. “Breathe through it. Nice and slow”, his lips brush against the side of your head. You didn’t even realize when he had leaned over you. “It hurts”, you cry out, feeling the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Look at me, I’ve got you”, his forehead is pressed to yours. Eyes watching you. He gives you a quick nod and you nod alongside him, “Make it quick”. Another tight nod and the salve-soaked material is once again against your burning flesh.

You cry out, head falling onto Azriel’s shoulder. The agony of it all catches up quickly to you. “Just a bit more”, he pleads, trying to clean away all the crusted-over blood and puss. “You’re doing great. So brave. So strong”, you want to bite back that you’re not a child that needs praise but his words soothe something inside you.

“Lay down, you will feel dizzy”, Azriel reaches out to steady your head back. “Any more not serious cuts on your body?” You lift your arm, one he had grasped. It’s a much shallow wound the bleeding had stopped by now. Yet Azriel tends to it as carefully. You watch him do it. The way he has that almost permanent frown on his face. As if every bruise and cut had personally offered him. “I’ll wrap you up”, he mutters after a while, gathering all the blood-soaked clothes. “I can do it myself, you did enough”, The truth is you don’t want to move. Or more like don’t know if you can. Azriel just looks down at you before sighing, “I understand now why you get pissed when I play big boy around you”, you can’t help but smile a little. Tending to him was always a headache but you always got him to give in. “Got to keep you on your toes now”, you whisper, not trusting your voice.

“Just let me look after you”, he mutters and you take a moment to soak in his worried eyes. “Why?”, deep down you know the answer but there’s an urge now. Urge to hear him say it. “Because…”, Azriel breathes out, stalling, “Because I’ve been worried sick since you left, because this will help my mind settle”. He shakes his head slightly, “Because I care… about you”. You take a shaky breath in, wanting to reach out for him. “Az…”, you mutter. “Don’t say anything now. Heal first and let me help you do so faster”, he cups your face, before going back to fetch the bandages.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seven

authors notes: so this one leaves probably more questions than answers, but there's also a lot of things sprinkled throughout, and all questions will be answered....eventually.

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

cw/tw: fluff, language, discussion of parental loss, brief (two line) flashback of aftermatch following csa, suggestive themes, ptsd trigger

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

masterlist

words: 8k

Solana: Are you busy today?

Normally, Roman would keep his phone face down during business meetings but with increasing communication with Solana, he’s leaned more on the side of having it face up so he’s aware when notifications come through. 

It’s not a priority. Just a…..preference. 

Grabbing his phone, he quickly shoots her back a text.

Roman: What do you need?

Before he can put his phone back down, those three dots appear. He keeps the thread open for her reply to slide in.

Solana: Nvm. I’m sorry to bother you.

Roman curses inwardly, barely keeping it to himself and not making the room of men aware of his frustrations. He can acknowledge Solana has slightly improved with her over–apologizing over the past couple weeks, but it’s moments like this that get him upset all over again. 

He fucking hates repeating himself.

But….

There’s that small, annoying ass, nagging voice in the back of his head that reminds him of why she’s always so apologetic, why she thinks her damn existence itself is an inconvenience. And he can’t really fault her, blame her for years of trauma fucking with her mental.

Roman: You’re apologizing again. How many times I gotta tell you to stop that shit?

It could probably, definitely, be worded better. Maybe even a bit…kinder. But Roman is a lot of things. 

Kind is not one of them.

He then adds, knowing she’ll probably try to find another excuse to not be honest with him. 

Roman: What do you need? The truth, Solana. 

There’s an appearance and disappearance of those dots at least three or four times. He can picture her biting down on her bottom lip as she tries to word what probably is a simple request as best she can.

The amount of overthinking she does has to be fucking exhausting.

Solana: I was just gonna see if you could meet me at the library. I wanted to show you something.

Solana: But, it’s not a big deal! Please forget I said anything.

A couple of things strike Roman strange, two in particular. The first being that as soon as she says what she needs, the answer is an automatic yes. Like, it’s not even something he really thinks too much about, but he also chalks it up to a level of genuine curiosity. This might be the first time she’s actually directly asked him for something.

It must be important. Important enough for her to ask him to come see whatever it is, at least.

It’s why he doesn’t even comment on her second, follow up text.

Roman: What time you get off?

He can make whatever work.

Solana: It’s okay. Really.

This damn girl….

Roman’s jaw clench as he types out a text that matches his mood. 

Roman: Solana….

She’s giving him a damn migraine. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just ignore her at this point. If it’s that fucking important, she wouldn’t be giving him such a hard time.

But then the stupid nagging voice returns, reminding him that her even asking in the first place is a huge deal that shouldn’t necessarily be shot down because of lingering struggles that are probably going to be around for a while.

Solana literally has years of baggage and trauma she needs to heal from.

And that shit doesn’t happen overnight.

Solana: 3pm

Roman blows out a breath. Fucking finally. 

He lays his phone back down, not necessarily wanting to hear any pushback or counter arguments she might try to supply, fake ass reasons she wants to back away from her assertive request. 

Not happening. 

Roman: I’ll be there.

“Jey.” Roman’s deep voice cuts through the group who set their eyes on him. “I need you and Jimmy to handle the Barrett meeting for me.”  While the twins are annoying as shit majority of the time, they’re effective all of the time. Roman has trusted countless meetings with them, and none have turned out badly. They always get shit handled. 

His cousins both echo okayness with this change in plans, as expected. The same way Roman expected his Wise Man to be the one with questions.

“My Tribal Chief, we’ve had this meeting scheduled for weeks. What could possibly be more important?”

It’s a fair question, Roman isn’t too stubborn to admit that. But, it’s also not a question that applies. Again, it’s not that Solana is important, per se, it’s just that if his alternative is dealing with Barret’s loquacious business dealings, he’d prefer Solana.

He’s also partially intrigued by the mere fact she’d even had the balls to ask something of him in the first place. It’s promising. Assertiveness has always been more attractive to him than passiveness. 

Roman’s answer is both simple and vague. “I have somewhere to be.”

“But—”

“Wise Man.”

Paul’s childlike smile deepens suddenly, as if he’s been picked to be fucking line leader. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Who’s the Tribal Chief?”

Rikishi is the only one to offer a visible reaction, hiding his chuckle. He knows exactly where this is going, even if his decades old friend does not. 

“Y–you are, my Tribal Chief.”

Romans voice is sharp and lethal. “So why the fuck are you asking me to answer to you?”

Paul’s expression pales. “I would never, my—”

“Sound like it to me,” Jimmy’s messy ass chimes in. He looks at Jey. “What you think, Uce?”

“Sound like it to me too.” Jey, as expected, agrees. Only for him to nearly fall back in his seat when he jumps up so both feet are on the expensive ass leather. Roman is annoyed all over again for a new reason. “Ayo, Uce, ya’ll got a rat problem!”

At that, Jimmy is twinning with his brother in more than just appearance, also with his feet off the floor and onto the leather chair. Roman hopes they both fall over and break their goddamn necks. Rikishi can handle Barrett just fine.

“Ain’t you like a goddamn billionaire? How the hell you got Stuart Little and his fam running around your crib!”

Roman’s gaze follows the line of vision the twins are so damn focused on only to be met with Dulce calmly walking past both of them to sit in front of him, looking up with a tilted head. 

She’s clearly looking for Solana. 

And he knows this because it’s become a bit of a habit. If he’s home and she’s not, Dulce’s nosy ass seems to seek him out as if he’s supposed to magically make her owner appear. It’s not something he’s brought up to Solana, because he knows she would just freak the fuck out and over apologize for Dulce “bothering” him. 

And that’s not the case. 

It’s a bit annoying, but it’s not a bother.

His staff keep an eye out for her when Solana works, and he’s even seen Solana come back to the house on her lunch breaks to check in Dulce, so he doesn’t mind. She’s keeping up her end of the deal, being the primary caretaker for the puppy. 

“That’s Solana’s dog.”

Jimmy’s bewildered gaze is on him. “This a dog?”

“Yes.”

“You let her get a dog? Like a real ass dog?”

“You fucking see her, don’t you?” At that moment, Dulce calmly lays down on the floor next to Roman’s feet which are literally bigger than her small ass. It’s followed up by Paul starting to sneeze. 

Jey, who is now sitting back in his chair like a normal human being, points out, “man, you hate dogs.”

Naturally, Roman goes a bit on the defense, shoulders straightening. “I don’t hate them.”

Jimmy makes a sound, also with his feet planted on the ground. “Bruh, you literally use to tell us when we was growing up, ‘I hate dogs.’ That’s why we started calling you Big Dog, cause it was funny to see you get all mad and shit.”

Roman may or may not remember that, but it doesn’t mean he’s going to acknowledge it. Besides, he’s allowed to change his mind. Hate was always probably too strong of a word to use anyway. 

There are a lot of things Roman hates, even more people that he hates, but dogs are not on the list. 

It was more irritation than anything.

“Whatever.”

“What’s her name?” Rikishi asks, bending over his chair to try to catch Dulce’s attention.

Roman watches the puppy gradually make her way over his cousin, ears dropping as he gently rubs the top of her head. “Dulce.”

“Dul–what?”

This…..this is why Roman is on high blood pressure medication, why Dr. Michaels recommended he start wearing one of those smart watches to monitor his heart rate and other shit. Not that he did it.

“Dulce. It’s Spanish.”

“Aw man, why you ain’t say that in the beginning?” Jimmy turns to Jey. “The dog only speak Spanish.” He looks over at his dad who now has Dulce in his lap, continuing to pet her. Roman rolls his eyes. This dog is a damn attention whore, just like he predicted. “Hola, lil’ chalupa.”

Jey punches his brother on the arm. “Uce, you can’t be saying that kind of shit. It’s racist.”

“No, it’d be racist if I called the dog Taco Bell since her mama half Mexican, but I ain’t do that shit, cause I like Soso.”

“Stop calling her that.” 

Jimmy avoids Roman’s warning and proceeds to ask with all of the intrigue. “So not only did you let her bring a dog up in here, but you let ole’ girl pick a rat for said dog?”

Already irritated and on edge, Roman isn’t sure why Jimmy’s question irritates him as much as it does, and not even because it's a question that’s being posed when he’s trying to review a contract. It’s that Jimmy is questioning Solana’s decision in general.

He answers as calmly as he’s capable of responding. Roman also notices that Paul is red as a tomato as he pulls out an Epipen. Roman easily brings his focus back to Jimmy. “It’s what she wanted.”

“Should have got a big dog,” Jey suggests, hovering over by Rikishi as he tries to interact with Dulce whose eyes are fluttering closed. Roman swears this damn dog sleeps 23 out of the 24 hours in the day. 

That answer is simple, Roman grabbing a pen to sign off on the contract in front of him. It’s satisfactory enough. “She’s scared of them.”

“What is she not scared of?”

But that comment, for whatever reason, is what makes him snap. “Get out.”

Both the twins are unfazed, but it seems to trigger something for them as Jimmy exclaims, “I forgot!” He looks over at Jey, reminding. “Remember, Soso made some extra food for us.”

“Oh shit, she sho’ did!” 

Roman makes a mental note to write Solana about that. It’s not her job to keep feeding his grown ass, married ass cousins. 

The two bid their farewell, Jey shouting out as his parting term, “yeet!”

“Stop doing that,” Roman calls after their retreating forms as Paul also excuses himself for some air. 

Maybe he really is allergic to dogs. 

Rikishi stands up and walks over to him, still holding Dulce but not saying anything. He’s just looking like he wants to say something. Another of Roman’s pet peeves, of the many.

With a mutter and scowl, he asks, “what?” 

His cousin simply shrugs, nonchalantly commenting. “The girl is growing on you, Uce.” It’s an assessment, for certain.

However, Roman has zero desire to have this conversation with his older cousin, or anyone, in general. Hence, his vague ass reply of, “she’s tolerable.”

Because that’s the truth. Solana is neither amazing nor insufferable. She’s in a pretty balanced space between the both: tolerable.

Rikishi gives him that sly ass look that makes Roman want to punch him in his fucking face. “E tua le fale tele i le faleo’ o.”

It’s an old Samoan proverb that means “Even the mighty need others.”

Instantly, Roman’s gaze is cutting. “I don’t need anyone.” He never has, and he never will.

Rikishi just offers a knowing smile, lowering Dulce back to the ground and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “Of course not, Uce. Of course not.” The older man says nothing else, just walking out, Dulce returning back to stand by Roman’s feet, head up, staring at him.

He rolls his eyes, murmuring as he gets back to work. “She’ll be home later.” 

Dulce barks in response. 

________

The minute Roman pulls up to Solana’s job, sees the expression on his cousin’s face, he knows something is up.

Solo may have a dangerously good poker face, but Roman invented that shit. 

He got the blueprint from Roman. 

Solana is sitting near the front of the building, surrounded by fucking children as she reads some basic ass book that they’re all clearly eating up based upon how they can’t seem to take their eyes off her.

Roman isn’t entirely indifferent, instantly taking note of her outfit, more colorful, less covered. It reeks of Naomi’s influence, but in a good way. 

As always, she looks good, better than good.

Not wanting to interrupt, Roman motions for a few of his men to take Solo’s place as he gestures for his younger cousin to follow him.

As soon as they’re outside the building, Roman gets right into it. “You got something to say, so say it.” 

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that despite his brutal fighting abilities, the man is always careful and meticulous with his words. Unlike his hot headed older brother, Jey, Solo always thinks before he acts.

It’s why Roman doesn’t think twice about the space between the issuance of his prompt and Solo’s answer.

“You made me your enforcer for a reason, yeah?”

It’s an easy answer. “Yes.” 

“You upped me in the ranks to prove myself, right? To earn my way into the inner circle?”

Roman is already bored with the conversation, but considering this is family, he throws a bone. “Yeah.”

“So just how am I supposed to do that when you got me playing babysitter to your new wife?” The turn in topics as well as increase in Solo’s volume does slightly, very slightly, take Roman by surprise. Granted, he does a masterful job, as always, hiding that surprise. “Any lower guy could do this shit. She don’t—”

“Solo.” Roman gives him that tight smile and scratches his beard, typically the last thing people see before they meet their maker. “You answer to me. You do what I say you do, and I say you’re assigned to Solana.”

Roman doesn’t know what’s in the fucking water for people to be testing him the way they are, but it’s really starting to piss him off.

Solo looks down, clearly embarrassed by this talk down but not enough to shut his mouth. “I get that, but—”

“Wasn’t she already hurt once under your watch?” Roman’s voice is razor sharp as he reminds the younger man of his failure. The memory of that fucking bruise on Solana’s wrist from her bitch of a brother returning all of those strong emotions. “I gave you a job, and you didn’t do it. She got hurt while under your protection. It’s because you’re my cousin, you're even still breathing right now. You know better than anyone I don’t accept failure.”

At that, Solo concedes, knowing good and well there is no excuse or justifiable reason. “I understand, my Tribal Chief.”

Roman does his best to chip away some of his anger at this outright disrespect as well as the memories of Solana hurt. He steps past his cousin, calling out over his shoulder. “And Solo, don’t think because you’re family I won’t put a bullet in your head for questioning me.” Out of the corner of his eye, Roman can see Solo still has his head down. “Fail me again, let her get hurt again, and I’ll put your ass six feet under.”

Roman doesn’t allow the conversation to persist beyond that, big steps taking him back to the library just in time to see the children disperse, whipping past him as Solana approaches. The wedges on her feet give her a bit more height, but he still towers over her, which is a usual experience for him.

But, it doesn’t negate the fact that she’s so damn small.

“Hi,” she greets in that familiar unsure voice, eyes darting from him to the ground. “Sorry—I mean—story time ran a bit over.”

He’s appreciative she at least caught the apologizing before he had to call it out. “It’s fine.”

She offers a tight smile and motions for him to follow her, which he does, just as his eyes follow the sway of her ass as she leads the way.  

He’s starting to really enjoy seeing her in jeans. 

She leads him up the stairs and in the back area he’d visited her before what seems like so long ago, finding that her bastard of a brother had manipulated her into being alone with him. The last fucking time that shit will ever happen.

She pulls a key out her back pocket and unlocks the door, informing, “I have to grab something first.”

He doesn’t say anything, just nods. It’s like she feels the need to justify every little thing she does. 

Roman watches her walk over to the desk, leaning over as she grabs him something out of her bag, a notebook, the journal he first found her writing in the first time he came to see her at her place of employment. 

She’s back by him, closing and locking the door. “Come on.”

Typically, if this was anyone else, Roman would have demanded to know just what the fuck was so important that caused him to have to rearrange his whole schedule. Granted, he can’t take that out on her, nor would he ever, when he’s the one who rearranged his whole schedule for her. She didn't ask him to do that shit. 

He did it on his own volition for reasons unknown. 

The walk to the next stop doesn’t take long at all, Solana soon sticks her key in another, unfamiliar door, opening and stepping aside but directing him to walk in.

He does as such, naturally and instantly taking in his surroundings once she hits the light switch. It’s a room obviously, a previous storage room he would guess based upon the large filing cabinet lined against the wall to the right of him. There’s also another couple pieces of furniture against that same wall, like a desk and mini bookshelf, but that’s not what immediately catches his attention.

He’s instead more interested by the remaining walls that are essentially lined with larger, white bookshelves, all filled with a combination of notebooks, books, and journals. Completely filled. 

Intrigued but also confused, the latter of which is unfamiliar to him, Roman turns to Solana, asking, “what is this?”

Her cheeks redden, but she manages an answer that’s somehow not marked by as much stuttering. “There are all my journals—well,” she stops, giving a nervous laugh. “Most of them. Some are books I’ve read, and….” She walks over to a section that somehow seems different from the others, albeit lined up neatly with the rest of the items. Solana’s hand almost hesitantly feathers over the spines of the journals. At closer look, Roman can see they’re a bit dated and worn than the others. “These were my mother’s.”

Her answer surprises him, but he quickly recalls her sharing that she started writing because of her mother, because they wrote to each other.

She clears her throat and then turns back to him, sharing, “every time I finish a journal, I leave it here.”

Obviously. “Why here?”

“My mom started it. It—it was an arrangement she had with Mrs. Jensen. She worked here, and along with her pay, she arranged so she could keep her writings here and after….” Solana starts to hesitate, and Roman can see it’s because emotion is brewing. Just gently bubbling under the surface. “After she died, I kept up with it.”

Roman recognizes the sensitive nature of the subject and makes a subtle effort to change the topic on her behalf. “You’ve really written in all of these?” It’s impressive. He has to give her that. The thought of writing in general has never appealed to him, so for her to have a room full of journals she’s completed is fucking impressive. 

She nods, adding sheepishly, “filled em’ up.” Solana then takes the one in her hand, lifting it a bit. “Finished this one this morning.” He watches her squeeze it into a row that’s probably already being pushed to the limit.

She’s going to run out of space eventually.

She’ll need something bigger, sooner rather than later. Roman compartmentalizes this for a later date and time to navigate.

“You keep em’ here to hide them also, don’t you?”

“They can never know what I’ve written….” She doesn’t need to say who they are. It’s more than obvious. It’d be a sure death wish. “I just—-I know you said you’d write for now and it’s been almost a month, but—but I—I figured if you knew just how important and helpful writing is to me—”

“Solana.” There’s no need for her long ass, drawn out explanation. He understands now why she wanted him to see this space, the goal behind the request. “We’ll write as long as you need it.”

He watches her shoulders drop, a sign of relief. She bites back a smile he wouldn’t be opposed at seeing. She looks even better when she’s smiling. “Thank you.”

He only nods, and Solana finds herself taking him in. 

All of him.

In recent weeks, she’s discovered yet another newfound difficulty and source of anxiety for herself. And that new addition would happen to be in the form of the 6’3 man before her.

Roman has always made her nervous, for a variety of good and valid reasons, but recently, the cause of that anxiety has shifted to something else, something a bit on the unfamiliar side for her, or rather something she hasn’t really had to think about since her last disastrous relationship.

Attraction

Solana has come to terms with the fact that she’s attracted to Roman, yes, but also that she hasn’t the slightest clue of what to do about and with that said attraction.

It’s always been there, to a certain extent, but it was more dormant, something she knew was present but voiceless and nameless, almost invisible.

Now, in interacting and engaging with him more, it’s formed more defining characteristics, creating a sense of butterflies in her stomach whenever his smoldering gaze falls on her or when he says something to her, that deep, baritone voice sprouting goosebumps on the back of her neck.

It also doesn’t help that he’s indicated a couple of different times now that he also finds her attractive, or pretty, beautiful even.

That he thinks she looks good.

None of that makes sense to Solana nor can she understand why he would believe any of those things, but she would never make him out to be a liar, so it must be true, to some extent.

And therein lies the dilemma. 

One of many that exist in her life.

How she’s supposed to balance attraction with fear, desire with aversion, peace with trauma. It’s all a muddled mess. 

“Solana.”

“Sorry.” He only has to sigh one time for her shoulders to sulk, but instead of apologizing, she points out in a small voice. “It’s—it’s a habit.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a fucking habit to break.” His irritation is palpable, and Solana feels even smaller around him, like she’s done something wrong. “It’s not you I’m annoyed with.”

“Oh.” And that genuinely surprises her. In Solana’s experience, she’s always been the source of people’s, especially the men in her life, exasperation. But before she can step out of her comfort zone and ask him what’s wrong, he informs her of something that completely makes her emotions flip and twirl into a puddle of distress.

“Your father called for you today.” And just like that, any sense of relation and ease she’d achieved is dissipated, replaced with growing unrest. “Relax…” It’s not missed upon Solana how Roman’s tone quickly and almost easily jumps from irritated to almost soothing, like he’s trying to calm his nerves. “I told him to fuck off.”

That doesn’t make her feel any better. “He doesn’t like being told no.”

“And you think I give a fuck?” His deep voice is full of indifference and edge, but this time around, Solana knows it’s not directed towards her. He then asks, “do you want to talk to him?”

It takes her off guard. “What?”

Roman repeats himself with a surprising lack of irritation. “Do you want to talk to him?” 

Solana can’t remember the last time she was asked such a question. Been given a choice. Then again, it’s happened quite a few times since her marriage to Roman, starting with Bayley asking her something as simple as how she wants her makeup done. 

She doesn’t know what to make of that. Just another thing added to that mounting list of confusing and conflicting thoughts and feelings. 

“If you want to, I’ll allow it.” He quickly adds the caveat. “But not without me present.”

Prior to the past couple weeks, Solana would suspect Roman’s stipulation stems from a place of possessiveness. But now….now it feels like it comes from someplace else, something so unfamiliar and foreign. 

Protectiveness. 

It feels like he’s being protective of her. 

His proclamation from earlier returns to the forefront of her mind.

“I’m not going to let anyone lay a fucking hand on you.”

He’d also included a list of people he wouldn’t allow to do as such, including her dad and brother, which is why he clearly would only let Solana speak to her father if he’s around. 

It’s just the why that has her stumped.

But, back to the question being posed, the easiest and most simple answer is no. She’d rather not be around someone who’s only ever left her hurt, emotionally and/or physically. Or allocated that task to her brother. 

Not to mention the fact that the only reason he probably wants to talk to her is to discuss this nefarious plot she still refuses to allow herself to think about because it’s so inconceivable. 

“Not really,” she answers after what feels like forever, “but…”

Roman picks up on her hesitation. “But?” 

“Like I said, my–my father doesn’t like being denied.” And before he can protest or again reiterate his outright indifference to her father’s feelings, Solana adds in a quiet voice, “and I usually end up being the one to pay for it.”

Roman steps towards her, and before she can process what’s happening, his finger is under her chin, tugging so that her head is lifted, eyes locked with his. 

His voice lowers, quietly asking, “you still don’t believe me when I say I won’t let anyone hurt you, huh?” It’s rhetorical, sure, but Solana is too focused on the fact that this man is touching her. It’s as innocent as innocent comes, but it’s still touch, something she usually hides away from like the plague. However, outside of the initial shock and borderline discomfort, Solana doesn’t jump away, doesn’t feel the need to put as much distance between them. She’s almost….almost comfortable.

“I’m going to kill them both, eventually.  Fucking with them in the meanwhile only makes the outcome that much more worthwhile. But…” And the surprises keep coming, especially as he makes her aware of his intentions. “One word. All I need is one fucking word from you. That you want them gone, and it’s done. No questions asked.” 

Power.

Solana wonders if this is what power feels like, the ability to say one single word and have a life be ended. How she feels about those lives belonging to her brother and father remains to be seen, but even being given such an option, such an almost promise, it’s an indescribable experience.

Roman’s brown eyes, light and contrasting everything about him that is sharp and hard, study her. “You understand me?”

Naturally, she nods against his index finger that’s under her chin, demanding maintained eye contact. 

“I need words.” It’s a reminder from the infamous wedding night, something that seems so far in the rearview mirror now. 

“Y–yes.”

He seems pleased by this acknowledgment, enough to pull his hand away from her, Solana trying not to make too much of the strange sensation that floats in her stomach at the absence of his touch. 

Roman suddenly offers. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll up your security detail.” Before she can protest and probably apologize if she’d unintentionally indicated it wasn’t already enough, he asks, “you get off at 3 every day?”

“Essentially, y–yes.” 

“I’ll start meeting you.”

The surprises just keep on coming.

Instantly, she feels bad, shaking her head. “You don’t have to—”

“Solana.” This man must get tired of having to say her name, she’s certain of that. “I’ll meet you.” He says the same thing, but this time, she knows not to push back because it’s a done thing. “Just make sure I have your updated work schedule.”

“Wh—what about Solo?”

“He’ll still be assigned to you for any other outings.” This makes her feel a little better, that he’s not entirely rearranging and inconveniencing himself for her. “You ready to go?”

Yes. No. Maybe. There’s so many different questions she has with only a select number of answers, but in this moment, she goes with the one that feels most right. 

Especially with Roman reaching for her hand.

Nodding, she swallows and accepts his gesture, noticing how his large hand closes over hers, almost protectively.

“Yes.”

________

“That for me?” Solana looks up from the notebook she’s almost certain she’ll have filled and completed by the end of the month. Roman’s presence and question both catch her off-guard. She didn’t really expect to speak to him again today, especially after he already spent time with her earlier that day. She figured he’d had his maximum daily dosage. 

Especially after she’d already prepared and fixed dinner for him, the two of them falling into their now routine of him eating in his office, her in the living room before she makes her way out back to the patio where she either writes or, now, plays with Dulce.

Solana shakes her head, answering softly as Roman sits on the chair opposite her.  “no. It’s…”

“About your mom?”

With him now aware of the nature of some of her writing, she answers, “yeah.” Roman’s question triggers something she’s certain she intentionally never commented on because it was such a shock to her system that she really didn’t know how to respond. “When….when you said it wasn’t my fault….did—did you mean that?”

If she expected there to be delayed response or even confusion on his end, she was entirely wrong because he answers almost on the spot. “Yes. I told you, I wouldn’t lie to you.”

She’s starting to believe that. 

Wetting her lips, she informs in that same small voice, “no one’s ever said that to me before.”

Xavier’s unshaven face and dark, judgmental gaze is focused on her, Solana doing her best to ignore the pain that wrecks her body, the beeping of the machines and IV’s in both her arms. The throbbing between her legs is equally scary as it is confusing. What did they do to her, and why did it hurt so much?

He pulls the cigar from his mouth, dropping and stomping it on the floor, gruff voice asking, “why didn’t you fight back?” He shakes his head, spitting at the same spot that’s littered with remnants of one of many poor habits. “You’re weak just like your mother.”

Roman’s firm voice snatches her away from spiraling too deeply in dark memories of an even darker past. She does her best to shake away any sign she was about to dissociate when he surprises her for what feels like the 10th time today, almost quietly sharing, “My mother was killed when I was ten years old.” There’s a synchronous dropping of her mouth and stomach at the exact same time. “You think that shit was my fault?”

The answer is obvious and immediate. “No. Of–of course not. You were—you were just a kid.”

While her response is borderline automatic, coming from a place of pure logic, everything else is so confusing. Roman’s mother is….dead? Not even dead but murdered when he was a child?

Just like hers.

Solana doesn’t know how to process this. It’s not until this very moment that she realizes not once has she ever considered or thought about his immediate family, like parents and even siblings. At the wedding, so many people were present, obvious family members of his, but she’s just now realizing she never considered who was who. Were they all cousins, aunts, in-laws even? 

Where is the rest of his immediate family? Better yet, who makes up his immediate family? She’s aware of the twins and even his older cousin Rikishi, but is there not more?

“So were you.” She can’t tell if Roman intentionally works to redirect the focus back onto herself or if he’s unaware of the fact she’s suddenly wondering just how much about the man across from her she still knows nothing about it. “So why is it different for you?”

It’s an effective diversion and valid question that she’s never once asked herself.

“No one’s ever said that either.” Her voice is only a couple octaves above a whisper, and Solana finds herself sharing more than she’s probably ever divulged to anyone. “When I….when I’m writing, a lot of the times, I’m writing letters to my mom.” Having this conversation with anyone, let alone Roman, of all people, wasn’t on her life agenda. But, it seems like a lot of ‘nevers’ are gradually morphing into ‘actualities.’

It’s such a strange experience, too.

“Like I said, we used to write to each other, and after….after she was killed, I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I think at the beginning, I kept doing it because….because I didn’t want to accept she was gone.” The understanding and underlying emotion shifts to the surface, resulting in her quickly wiping at her eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Like I was waiting for her to write me back.” It’s not missed upon Solana how Dulce suddenly moves closer, tucking her body right up against Solana’s thigh. “And I’ve kept at it over the years, cause—she was the only person I could ever talk to.”

Roman repeats the same message he wrote to her, almost reminding her of a lifeline she’s gradually starting to realize is available for the first time in almost twenty years. “You can talk to me, Solana.”

And she is. She doesn’t know how and especially why, but she is, and as heavy as the topic is, there’s a hint of relief at finally having another living, breathing person to speak to and with about these things. 

Especially…..especially someone who can maybe relate to her. “How did you do it—how did you….move past it?”

It’s not the best wording, she’s certain of that. Losing a parent. Having a parent be murdered isn’t something one gets over. 

Solana knows this better than most, but Roman….he’s so composed, so together, so unbroken. 

So unlike her. 

His expression darkens as he answers in an eerie but calm voice. “I got my revenge, and I killed every single son of a bitch who played a role.” His delivery unsettles her a bit, but he seems to easily shift back into that almost patient tone she’s only ever heard him use….with her. “But, I’m not like you, Solana. You're innocent. My ledger bleeds red.” Solana doesn’t know what it looks or even sounds like for Roman to be uncomfortable, but his delivery in the next part definitely feels as such.  “I don’t….feel things like you do. You feel everything. I feel nothing.”

She whispers. “I wish I was like that, that I didn’t feel.” Because it’s true. Because it’s how she initially started to self harm, because she wanted to feel something other than emotional pain. Even physical pain was better than the anguish that racked her every day, 24/7.

He’s quick to shut that down, to tell her the complete opposite. “No, you don’t. That would mean you’ve lost that innocence you have.”

That actually makes Solana smile, chuckle, but there’s not an ounce of humor as she shakes her head. “I–I lost my innocence a long time ago.” Stolen. It was stolen from her a long time ago is the more appropriate way to word it. Stomach a complete freaking mess, she does her best to power through her anxiety at what she’s about to tell him. “Roman…..I—”

“Ayo, Uce—”

“What!” Roman snaps, Solana jumping back away from him, hypervigilance back on high and alert. He briefly casts his gaze back in her direction, and she can almost swear she sees a speck of guilt. Like he’s apologetic for scaring her. 

Jimmy, however, is unfazed by his cousin’s temper. He’s lived with it his whole life. Ain’t nothing new. “Rhodes men were on Bloodline territory—”

“What?” At that, Roman’s head snaps back in Jimmy’s direction. And Solana watches as any sign of Roman, patient and almost kind, is replaced almost instantly with that same cold, stoic demeanor that could strike fear in the heart of even the strongest man. 

He stands up, hands on his hips as he moves a bit away from her. Solana also stands, fighting her urge to move closer to him. 

Jimmy also presents with a seriousness she’s never seen in him, never even really knew he was capable of, to be honest. “We got three guys down. Another two critically injured.”

Roman curses, turning away, back toward Jimmy and her. He then asks, “you got a location on em’ yet?”

“Pearce should have it any minute now.”

“Good. Let’s go.” Roman nods, stepping away from Solana and in the direction of Jimmy just as Dulce walks over, clearly wanting Solana to pick her up. She must also pick up on the sudden shift in the atmosphere. 

Dulce in her arms, Solana finds herself calling for Roman. “What—”

“Not now.” His dismissal is sharp and sudden. It shouldn’t hurt her feelings, because it’s obvious he’s in an entirely different zone now, but it does. 

Solana sinks back into her shell of silence as Solo steps forward. “You want me—”

“Stay with Solana. She doesn't step foot outside this fucking house, you understand me?” Roman’s orders are indisputable, an almost sense of urgency in his tone. “Heighten security around the premises.”

Solana has so many questions. Just what is going on? Why is Roman so on edge all of a sudden? Who is Rhodes and why do they present such an imminent threat where Roman marches out the house, Jimmy on his heels without even a second glance at her.

It’s all so confusing. 

“You need to get inside.” Solo’s equally stoic reminder, command maybe, pulls her from her thoughts. And Dulce suddenly growling at Solo definitely redirects her focus.

“Shhh. It’s just Solo,” she comforts, petting and trying to calm the puppy who quickly upgrades her growling to barking. This also confuses the mess out of Solana.  

She’s not sure she’s ever seen Dulce both growl and bark at someone.

Wordlessly, she walks in the house, past Solo who she notices makes sure to lock the door behind them. 

“Stay in your room," he instructs, and while she has more questions than anything, his austere tone is more than enough for her to not push back. 

Dulce will just have to use the crate if she has to use the bathroom. 

Without another word, Solo carries Dulce up the stairs and into her room where she lays the puppy in her bed and Solana climbs onto her.

Chewing on her bottom lip, she grabs her phone and opens up the latest group text thread she was messaging in. 

Solana: Can I ask you guys something?

Their replies come in not even five minutes later. 

Bayley: Of course!

Naomi: Anything.

Without allowing herself too much time to overthink it, Solana sends out the simple question.

Solana: Who or what is Rhodes?

Solana: Roman just rushed out of here after Jimmy said something about Rhodes men being on Bloodline territory. I’m not allowed to leave the mansion.

Just like the start of the conversation, the replies come in almost instantaneously. 

Naomi: Fuck.

Naomi: Yes, stay put. Solo’s there with you, right?

Solana: Yes.

Solana’s anxiety is only growing. Naomi sounds just as intense as Jimmy and Roman were. 

Her follow up text doesn’t do anything to help the confusion either.

Naomi: The less you know, the better. The guys will handle it.

Handle what, though? That’s what Solana really wants to know. What is the story here, and why did this Rhodes person or group have Roman so wired. 

Just then, another notification comes through. From Bayley, but in their individual thread and not the group chat. 

Solana switches over, reading her messages as they arrive almost back to back. 

Bayley: Rhodes is a person, but…that’s a complicated story.

Bayley: And I'd feel bad telling someone else’s story, but what I can tell you is that Rhodes is Cody Rhodes, head to the Nightmare Factory, the Bloodline’s biggest opp. Tensions have been at an all time high for like two generations with countless bodies dropped on both sides. It’s always a bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity. 

Solana is regretting even asking anything in the first place. Bloodbath when they’re in the same vicinity, the same vicinity Roman is heading for as she types. Her shoulders drop, anxiety starting to shift to a new target. 

Concern for his safety.

Bayley: If you’re somehow ever in a situation where someone from the Nightmare territory is around, get the hell out of dodge. They won’t hesitate to kill you, especially with you being Roman’s wife.

Bayley: Or Rollins. Seth Rollins. Especially him. Guy is fuckin’ psycho.

Solana: Rollins?

Bayley: Roman, Seth, and Cody used to be friends a long time ago, like way long ago, and it just….it went bad. Really really fucking bad, and Cody and Roman have hated each other since. Like, I don’t know if hate is even a strong enough word for how much they can’t stand each other. 

Solana: But why?

Bayley never replies. 

________

Roman doesn’t step back into the house until almost 4am. He feels every bit exhausted as he probably looks, more physical than anything, some mental, maybe more than he’d like to admit.

Dealing with anything Nightmare related typically has that impact on him.

Solo meets him at the door, looking as on alert as he did when Roman first saw him at the ass crack of dawn this morning. 

The first thing to leave Roman’s mouth isn’t intentional as much as it is unintentional. “How was she?”

Solo motions to the marble flooring leading to the spacious living room. “She’s waiting for you.”

Roman wasn’t expecting to hear that, and he’s certain it shows in his facial expression. “What? Why? Why is she still up?”

Solo shrugs. “You’ll have to ask her. She don’t talk to me.” Which is more Solo’s preference anyway. It’s his job to protect her, not be her fucking friend. “Everything good?” Roman nods but doesn’t say anything, still stuck on the fact that Solana is still up. “Imma head out.”

Roman’s response is as distant as his expression. He doesn’t care whether Solo stays or leaves. “Alright.”

Once his enforcer is out the house, Roman sure enough finds Solana sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, notebook in her lap as she writes away.

“Solana.”

She gasps, clearly taken by surprise, but when her head lifts and her eyes land on him, she untangles her legs and moves the journal to the side. Solana walks over to him, keeping a distance that makes sense for her. “You’re back….”

“What are you still doing up? Don’t you have work in a couple hours?”

“It’s okay.” She shakes her head, adding sheepishly, “I–I don’t sleep much anyway.” He knows this well. “I just—I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Her eyes widen as she hones in on the nasty looking cut near the middle of his hairline. “You’re hurt….”

It’s really not until she says anything that Roman remembers the only “injury” he received from tonight’s bloodbath. “It’s fine.” He then redirects the focus to the main topic at hand. “Solana, you don’t have to wait up for me.”

She ignores him, actually ignores him and instead reaches up to feel the cut that’s maybe a bit more deeper than he realized because her feather light touch brings a bit of a sting. 

“You need stitches.” It doesn’t sound like a suggestion, and he realizes as such following her next surprising action. She takes his hand and leads him into the kitchen, motioning for him to sit down on the stool as she pulls out the medical kit from under the sink. 

Similar to the night of WarGames, she moves in between his open legs and starts tending to his cut, meticulously and carefully stitching him up.

She says not a word, and neither does he. Truthfully, it’s more an unconscious thing than conscious, like neither knows what or if to say something. Especially considering both are currently feeling more than what they know how to properly verbalize, or verbalize at all, really. 

“There….” Roman can tell when she’s done. She gently runs her fingers over her diligent work, her eyes focused on the source of her apparent concern when all he wants is for her to look at him, for her eyes to lock on him. “I think I’m—” And just as Solana goes to move away, to step back and clean up, she’s stopped. 

She’s stopped, because Roman reaches for her, keeping her near him.

His hand is initially on the small of her back, and Solana has the same experience from earlier. That initial tense feeling that quickly mellows into something almost calm, almost secure. 

She’s not sure she’s ever been this close to him, not since the last time she tended to his injuries, not since their wedding day, since their wedding night.

But unlike that last almost traumatic time, she’s not pummeled with anxiety, not paralyzed with fear. 

It’s just the calm. 

His eyes never leave her, bouncing back and forth between her eyes and lips. He then says in a low voice that’s unlike anything she’s heard from him before. “Solana….”

There’s something different about the way he says her name, something more sincere, something almost….vulnerable. 

Roman suddenly has both hands on her hips, holding her, just as her nervous hand moves to lay her palm against his chest. 

His eyes instantly shut at her touch. Interactions with anything regarding Rhodes have always done something to Roman emotionally, but it’s always been something he can manage relatively well. Something simple and easy. There’s nothing simple and easy about whatever the fuck is coursing through him at having her so close to him, having her touch, soft and unsure as the expression in her eyes. 

She doesn’t know what to make of his eyes closing nor does she have time to consider what to make of that because an image, a flashback of a different kind of touch, a much more painful, visceral touch shoots to the forefront of her mind.

And her chest starts tightening, that fear drawing back up. 

“I–I can’t.” Because as much as some part of her, albeit big or small, likes this, likes being close to him, feels safe being this close to thim, another part, much larger and much stronger, can't handle being this close to him. “I’m sorry.” Eyes watering, she breaks away, Dulce is quickly behind her, Solana reaching to hold the puppy as she dashes up the stairs. 

Roman sits unsure, confused, angry. He stands up, pacing across the floor, hands up and on the side of his head before his fist slams against the refrigerator door. He curses, but not from the blow. That shit doesn’t hurt. 

His reaction and frustration is directed solely toward the fact that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s feeling right now.

The same thing Solana is struggling with as she sits on her bed, legs pulled up to her chest, silently crying into her thighs.

Both of them wondering the same exact thing:

What the hell just happened?

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unspoken Ehos ~ Yoongi

⤜ WORD COUNT: 4.7K

⤜ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!Reader

⤜GENRE: Enemies to lovers, angst, angst with happy ending, fighting, unrequited love, yoongi finally realising hes a dick, being used, not feeling good enough

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - August 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

The hum of the coffee shop’s morning rush provided a comforting backdrop to your thoughts as you gazed out the window, her hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea your friends had ordered for you that morning. It was supposed to be a nice relaxing girls' day today, it had been far too long since any of you had gotten to hang out alone without you rushing off to go to Yoongi and they were determined to make you see things their way today.

"You're not even listening to us," Mia groans as she looks at you, your eyes are staring down at your phone, almost as if you wanted it to ring, just so you could feel needed by Yoongi.

"I am, you were talking about the new outfit you were going to wear," You rambled off, your eyes slowly lifting as you stared back at your two friends. Neither of them looked rather happy right now and you knew why.

"You should turn it off, we're having a girly day," Mia warned you but you bit down on your lip.

If you turned off your phone there was a chance you could miss a call from Yoongi, and then what if he never called you for help again? You weren't going to risk any of it.

"I can't." You choke up on your words a little before lifting the cup to your lips and taking a small sip of the tea, trying to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind that this was wrong. You didn't care.

If loving Yoongi was wrong then you never wanted to be right in your life.

"Why-" Mia stopped herself when your phone buzzed insistently, cutting through the murmur of voices and the hiss of the espresso machine, Mia's eyes narrowed at you daring you not to do it but you smiled sheepishly. Carefully you picked it up, your heart skipping a beat when you saw the name on the screen.

Yoongi. 🩷

Without hesitation, you swiped to answer, bringing the phone to your ear, doing your best to ignore the looks you were getting from your two best friends who were now sitting with their arms folded across their chest. Suddenly you felt as though you were 13 years old and telling your parents that you wanted to go out with friends.

“Hey, Yoongi, what’s up?” Your voice came out shaky as you tried to act cool about everything. Yoongi would call you all the time whenever he needed something and you were there in a flash.

“YN, can you come over?” Yoongi’s voice was calm, as usual, but there was an undertone of urgency that made you panic a little. Had something happened?

“I need some help with this track, and I can’t get it right.” Your shoulders relaxed a fraction knowing that nothing truly bad had happened to him and you nodded your head, despite him not being able to see you through the phone.

“Of course! I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” You replied immediately, already grabbing your bag from the floor despite the look you were getting from your friends. As soon as you hung up the phone, a smile spread across your face but the girls didn't exactly look excited for you to be doing this to them...again.

It happened every single time the three of you were supposed to spend any real time together and if they didn't know any better they would have assumed Yoongi did it on purpose but it couldn't have been true.

They knew that Yoongi didn't see you as anything more than someone he could use but they weren't going to be the ones to be too harsh to tell you that.

“You’re going to see Yoongi again, aren’t you?” Sarah teased, your eyebrow arched playfully, smirking softly as you felt your body heating up. Sarah was the kinder one in your friendship group, constantly encouraging you to go to Yoongi but Mia, on the other hand, was completely different. You nodded, unable to hide your excitement as you giggled a little.

“Yeah, he needs my help with something.” You shrugged casually but Mia shook her head at you. It was clear you were too oblivious to what he was doing. Using you.

“You’re always running to him,” Mia said with a hint of concern, she didn't want to watch you keep disappearing like this. Every time you went to see him you'd be so excited, only to come back looking defeated because he never asked you out.

“What about your plans today? We were supposed to go shopping, remember? It's my birthday tomorrow and we're getting our outfits,” She tried to make you see things from her side but you bit down on your lip.

“I know, I know,” You said, pausing for a moment as you looked at her, you knew today was meant to be a girl's day but you could easily make it up to her tomorrow.

“But Yoongi needs me. I promise I’ll make it up to you guys. Tomorrow, I promise! Biggest present I can find! It's yours.” You smirked at her but Mia didn't look convinced. Sighing she exchanged a look with Sarah that spoke volumes. So much needed to be said but they knew you weren't in the right space to hear it right now. Not when you constantly defended everything he ever did. At one point, they were sure you would have defended him if he tried to run you over with a car.

“Just don’t let him take you for granted, okay?” Sarah warned gently, looking at you with a softened expression but you waved her off and shook your head.

“He’s not like that. Yoongi’s amazing. You guys just don’t understand him like I do.” You smiled sweetly and Mia sighed into her cup, waving goodbye as you made your way out of the cafe. There wasn't much they could do until you saw it for yourself, all they had to do was make sure they were ready and waiting for you.

The walk to Yoongi’s apartment was a short one, but it felt like an eternity as your mind raced with thoughts of him. You'd been in love with him for as long as you could remember, and you'd do anything to help him, no matter what. No matter the time or day you would be there as soon as he called to let you know he needed you. The very idea of being needed by him filled you with a warmth that no one else could ever provide, it was unlike anything you'd ever felt before and you never wanted to let that feeling go.

When you arrived, you knocked on the door lightly expecting to have to wait for him to get to it like usual but it swung open almost immediately, revealing Yoongi in a slightly rumpled t-shirt and jeans, his hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it in frustration. The sight made your heartache, the thought of him so stressed out over something made you want to remedy it right away.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” he said, stepping aside to let you in, shutting the door behind you as you stared around. His apartment was a familiar mess of scattered sheet music, half-empty coffee cups, and the unmistakable scent of creativity in the air. It was obvious he was working on something even if he hadn't told you on the phone.

Whenever Yoongi was in work mode he would mostly shut out the rest of the world, becoming a hermit in his own apartment until he got so stuck he needed to call for backup.

“Anything for you,” You replied with a bright smile, setting your bag down by the sofa as he sighed a little and ran his fingers through his hair.

“What’s the problem?” You glanced over your shoulder at him but he was already walking in the direction of his studio, where his computer screen was filled with audio tracks and waveforms, something you'd seen countless times since being friends with him and the rest of the guys.

“This part right here,” he pointed at the screen where he'd clearly been stressing the most and you narrowed your eyes at it a little,

“I can’t get the sound to blend the way I want. I need another set of ears.” He grumbled, dropping himself down into the chair in front of his desk, and unplugging some headphones before he started to get it ready for you to listen to.

You settled into the chair beside him, listening intently as he played the segment. Your heart raced to be so close to him, but you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, closing your eyes a little as you listened to the track in repeat, trying to think of what was desperately needed.

“I think if you adjust the EQ here and maybe layer in a softer harmony, it could smooth out the transition.” You said as you showed him on the screen, your body stretched across him as you took the mouse from his hand and began to adjust everything.

Yoongi watched you as you worked, a conflicted look in his eyes as he studied you. He admired your dedication and your talent, but there was something else—something he couldn’t quite admit to himself, something he was never even going to admit, even in his head. But the longer he watched you the more he couldn't help but wonder why you were always here for him.

He was nothing but mean to you whenever you were around and he only ever called you when he wanted something from you. By all accounts, he was a piece of shit to you and yet you still came when he called.

“Why do you always come when I call?” he asked suddenly, his voice low. Your heart practically lodged itself inside of your throat as you heard the question. You looked up, surprised as to where all of this was coming from, usually the two of you would work in silence.

“Because you need me,” you said simply, there was no beating around the bush when it came to this, you couldn't hide it forever.

“And I care about you, Yoongi. I always have.” Your voice came out a little shaky as you watched Yoongi. His face gave no indication that he registered the words. He just turned away, staring at the screen in front of him and not paying you much attention.

“You shouldn’t,” he muttered, more to himself than to you but you didn't hear him, your attention was already back on the music blissfully unaware of the storm that was raging inside of Yoongi.

You fucked up.

You didn't just fuck up a little either, you fucked up majorly. It was the night of Mia's birthday party and you'd been late. You were supposed to help her and Sarah set up during the day but since you'd been working with Yoongi the night before you'd barely slept and somehow slept until the afternoon and turned up late to her party. And it was safe to say Mia was not happy. Not in the slightest.

"Look, I fucked up but-"

"I don't know what I even expected, I'm sick of this." She yelled, gaining attention from some of the other people around her as you flinched a little. You'd never heard your friend yell before and never at you,

"Mia, it was an accident. I slept in"

"Because he had you working all night." She grumbled at you, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at you with an unnerving look on her face. Sarah was shaking her head, she'd done everything she could to calm Mia down but there was no going back now.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? All you ever do is use us until he takes your time." Mia spat out, venom dripping from her words. Sarah pulled her arm, telling her not to do this but she shoved her away and shook her head.

"She fucking deserves it. I'm sick of it! We're pushed to the side all because her precious fucking angel calls her." Mia laughs bitterly as you move closer to you, her head tilted to the side with an evil look on her face.

"Do you think he calls you because he's interested in you? Or do you think he cares about anything you have to say?" She didn't give you time to answer before cutting you off,

"You're so fucking boring. I'm going to be straight with you because he won't. He's not interested in anything other than using you, he doesn't give a fuck about you, or your feelings. He knows you're easy to get to, that's why he calls you." She spits out before walking off, Sarah sends you an apologetic look.

"What she's trying to say is that...You're always there for him, dropping everything, but what does he do for you? You're always waiting for him, but he's never waiting for you. You deserve better than someone who only calls when he needs something." Your eyes filled with tears as the words sank in, everything hitting you all at once.

"But he cares about me. I know he does." Your voice was so shakey it was almost as if you didn't believe them as you said the words. Sarah shook her head.

"I’m not saying he doesn’t care at all, but he doesn’t care enough. Not the way you deserve. You’ve built your world around him, and he hasn’t done the same for you." She tells you before chasing after Mia but your heart sank at the thought of it.

The truth of Sarah's words hit you like a ton of bricks, making it so hard for you to breathe that it felt like you were sucking everything in through a coffee filter and never getting enough air into your chest. You felt a sharp pain in your chest, a sense of betrayal and heartbreak all at once as you remembered everything you'd done for Yoongi without anything in return.

Without another word, you turned and walked out of the venue, the noise of the party fading behind you as you tried to shake the thoughts out of your mind. How could you have been so blind to it all?

The cool night air hit her as you stepped onto the street, your mind a whirlwind of emotions that you couldn't quite grasp or understand any of them. You walked aimlessly, not paying attention to where you were going, your thoughts a jumbled mess of memories and realizations as everything continued to hit you all at once.

Tears streamed down your face, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together so you wouldn't completely break down in the middle of the streets.

As you continued to walk aimlessly you were completely unaware of the traffic or the people you passed, your mind numb and blank to everything else going on around you. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, but for the first time...in, well, ever, you ignored it, too consumed by your own thoughts to even think of picking up or even checking to see if it was him. The world around you felt distant and surreal like you were moving through a fog. In your daze, you stepped off the curb, not noticing the approaching car until it was far too late. A blaring horn jolted you back to harsh reality, you tried to step back to the street but it was already too late. The car struck you, and you were thrown to the ground, your body hitting the pavement with a sickening thud, your head smashing against the floor as you squinted up at the black sky. Everything hurt, cars screeched, and people screamed and panicked as they rushed over to you.

"No one touch her! Call an ambulance!" Someone screamed before a face appeared above you but you'd never seen the man before in your life.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you. What's your name? Can you tell me your name?" The voice slowly began to trail off as your eyes got too heavy to stay open and just like that...The world went black.

Yoongi was pacing back and forth in his living room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand as he shook his head at himself. He glanced at the screen for the twentieth time in the past few minutes, his frustration growing with each unanswered call. Every time he dialled, it went straight to voicemail which only further fueled his racing mind that something bad had happened to you.

He'd been trying to call you to get you to come over and help him and Jungkook with a track, even though he knew he didn't really need the help he just wanted to see you. It was an excuse to get to see you again.

“Come on, YN,” he muttered under his breath, hitting redial once more, his heart in his throat as he waited for you to pick up, praying you would answer.

But the same monotonous beep greeted him, followed by your cheerful voicemail message, your voice sending a wave throughout his body.

“Hey, it’s YN! Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!” Yoongi groaned, running a hand through his hair in agitation, how could you do this? You always picked up whenever he called. It was the one thing he could always count on in the back of his mind.

His heart was racing, and a sense of dread was slowly creeping up on him. Where could you be? Why weren't you answering? It wasn't like your character at all.

“Yoongi, man, calm down,” Jungkook’s voice cut through his thoughts. He was sitting on the couch, watching his friend with a concerned expression.

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s just busy or her phone died.” He shrugged his shoulders trying to remind his hyung of the rational things that could happen before his mind went straight to the bad. Yoongi stopped pacing, turning to face Jungkook.

“It’s not like her to not answer my calls. She always picks up. What if something happened? She constantly has her phone on charge! She has that fucking annoying little battery pack she carries around,” He reminded him and shook his head. Your phone wouldn't die. You wouldn't let it die. No. There was something wrong, he could feel it in his bones.

Jungkook stood up, walking over to him, rubbing his shoulder softly as he shook his head at Yoongi.

“You’re overthinking it. YN’s probably okay. You’re just not used to not having her around whenever you need her.” Yoongi’s grip tightened on his phone. It was true and deep down he knew it. Deep down he knew he was used to constantly being at his beck and call which didn't make it easier for him to accept that you suddenly weren't.

“But what if she’s in trouble?” Yoongi sounded so defeated as he questioned Jungkook. Jungkook sighed, placing a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder once again and squeezing it.

“Yoongi, listen to yourself. You’re panicking. This isn’t just about her not answering the phone. You’re scared because you care about her more than you’re willing to admit.” Yoongi frowned, shaking his head. His feelings for you had nothing to do with any of this. Not that he had them.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grumbled defensively, walking away from Jungkook and shaking his head once again, Jungkook chuckled softly.

“Yes, you do. You’ve always relied on YN for everything. She’s always there for you, and you’ve gotten used to it. But it’s more than that. You’re worried because you love her, Yoongi. You just haven’t realized it yet.” Yoongi opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come, they couldn't come out because he couldn't think straight.

Instead, he found himself replaying all the moments the two of you had shared in his mind—the late-night studio sessions, the way you always knew how to make him laugh, the way his heart felt lighter when you were around. A sudden clarity washed over him, and he stumbled back, sinking onto the couch and staring at the wall. All the moments rushed back to him. You would constantly bring him food in case he hadn't eaten. You were there caring for him the second he needed you, sometimes without him even calling you.

Then there were times he'd call you without a reason. He'd make up some silly excuse just so that he could be around you for a little while. Enjoying the way you made him feel. So relaxed...content...Happy.

“I… I love her,” he whispered, the truth hitting him like a tidal wave.

“How did I not see it?” He questioned, his eyes slowly moving over to his friend who smiled knowingly, sitting beside him. It was obvious to everyone but Yoongi that he was in love with you.

“Sometimes it’s hard to see what’s right in front of us. But it’s not too late. Call her again, and if she doesn’t answer, we’ll go find her. Tell her how you feel.” Jungkook smiled warmly at him and Yoongi nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he dialled your number once more. The phone rang, and for a moment, he feared it would go to voicemail again, his fingers tightened around the phone and Jungkook smiled at him, trying to give his friend silent encouragement. But then, there was a click, and a stranger’s voice came through the line, tense and urgent.

“Is this Yoongi? This is Officer Kim. We found this phone on a woman who’s been in an accident. She’s unconscious and being taken to the hospital.” The phone slipped from Yoongi’s hand, his blood running cold, he knew something had happened to you as he choked on the air he was struggling to get into his lungs. Jungkook caught the phone, his eyes widening in shock at Yoongi.

“We need to go. Now.” Was all Yoongi said before rushing to find his keys.

You breathe steadily, your head pounding as you listen to the annoying beeping coming from beside your head. You wriggle your toes a little, trying to stretch and wake up from the deep sleep you appeared to be in. Everything felt too stiff for you to move.

"Yn?" A voice whispered from beside you. You frowned a little, you knew that voice your eyes slowly fluttered open and you saw Yoongi standing there.

His hand cradled yours as he stared at you from the beside chair.

"Yn...can you hear me?" Another voice said, you turned your head toward the sound and a bright light was shoved into your vision making you groan. As you attempted to move your left hand to cover your eyes it felt too heavy. Staring down you saw your arm in a cast.

"She might need some time to wake up," The person with the light said to Yoongi before heading out of the room,

"Come on, beautiful. Come back to me." Yoongi said as you stared at him. What the fuck was going on? Yoongi never called you any kind of name before. Let alone compliment you and he was holding your hand. Actually holding it.

"Good girl," He whispers as you finally come out of the state you were in and everything comes back to you. The fight with Mia. The car horn, and you laying on the floor with your head bleeding.

"What's going on?" Your voice came out hoarse as Yoongi sat the bed up for you, just happy you were finally awake after four days of sitting in a hospital bed with no one having any idea if you were going to wake up again.

"They said you walked out in front of the car. What the fuck were you doing, beautiful?" He whispers, running his hand over your cheek softly before reaching over for a cup of water and bringing it to your lips.

"Am I dead?" You deadpanned, wondering why he was suddenly being like this with you.

"No, thank god." Yoongi smiled at you as he sank down into the chair beside your bed again and you studied him for a second. Remembering everything all at once, the way Mia had screamed at you and made you realise what was truly happening between you and Yoongi.

“I… I remember now. I was so upset…” You whisper, staring down at your arm in the cast. Mia had signed it with a bunch of hearts and I'm sorry was written in big writing making you smile a little. Yoongi watched you for a second, biting his lip.

“I know,” Yoongi interrupted, his eyes filled with guilt as he stared at you. He'd been taking you for granted and he had no idea where to even start with everything. For four days he'd watched over you, not moving from your side unless the doctors ordered him to and he still hadn't been able to think of the right words for you.

“YN, I’m so sorry. I’ve been an idiot. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you, how much I took you for granted.” You looked at him, your eyes searching his as your eyebrows knitted together.

“Why are you here, Yoongi?” The words came out a little harsher than you'd intended but you didn't want to get confused with him anymore.

“Because I love you,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush, his throat drying up.

“I’ve been so blind, but when I thought I might lose you, everything became clear. I love you, YN. I need you in my life, not just as a friend, but as something more.” Your heart didn't skip a beat, it practically skipped a whole fucking playlist at his confession, but the pain of the past couldn’t be ignored so easily. You pulled your hand away, looking down at the blanket covering your body. You wanted to jump into his arms but you couldn't, not after everything you'd finally realised.

“You’ve hurt me, Yoongi. You only called me when you needed something. You never thought about how I felt.” You whisper,

“I know,” he admitted, his voice filled with regret as he stared at you. After you'd been bought in he'd gotten yelled at by Mia and Sarah and they hadn't gone easy on him either, which he was actually glad for. He deserved for them to scream at him for what he'd done to you.

“I’ve been selfish and oblivious. But I’m here now, and I want to make things right. I want to be there for you the way you’ve always been there for me.” You looked up at him, your eyes filled with tears hearing him admit everything you'd ever dreamt of him saying.

“How do I know this isn’t just because you were scared? How do I know you won’t go back to the way things were?” Yoongi leaned closer to you, his eyes earnest as he smiled weakly at you. He was going to do everything to change your mind and make you see things from his side.

“I can’t change the past, but I can promise you this: I will never take you for granted again. I will prove to you every day how much you mean to me. Please, YN, give me a chance to show you.” You studied him for a long moment, your emotions reeling deep inside of you.

The hurt, the love, the fear of being hurt again. Finally, you took a deep breath.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Yoongi. But I can’t go through that pain again. If you hurt me-”

“I won’t,” he vowed as he cut you off, shaking his head at you, his eyes never leaving yours. He was never ever going to hurt you or take you for granted again.

“I promise, YN. I love you.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you reached out to take his hand once more, squeezing it softly as you nodded your head.

“I love you too, Yoongi. But this time, it has to be different.”

“It will be,” he assured you, squeezing your hand gently.

“I’ll make sure of it.” He promises before you move over on the bed wanting him to come closer to you, cuddling up to him as you asked him what you'd missed over the last couple of days.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp @royallyjjk @parkjennykim @piercedddriver

[kotoku]

Hellohello!

May I request an Aventurine x The Nameless!reader? I think that'll give some interesting dynamic

ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ꜰᴏᴏᴛ

synopsis - When you and your friends are extended an invite from The Family to attend the Charmony Festival, you were looking forward to the opportunity of a get-away! (Despite the suspicion that seemed to surround the invite letter.) That is until a certain IPC Executive approaches the trouble that your group has encountered at the reception desk.

pairings - aventurine x nameless! reader

content - this is kind of an enemies-to-lovers scenario (?) but we haven't reached the lovers part yet folks, front desk drama, character shenanigans, i don't really have much to say because it's not really fluff nor angst, let's just say it's a glimpse into a relationship (that would take super duper long to develop into)

warnings - none, besides the occasional swearing

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

When Pom Pom had made the announcement that the Astral Express was about to head to its next destination, Penacony, a part of you was thrilled at the opportunity. However, an unpleasant feeling nagged at you. The invitation letter that was sent out by the family had suspicion written all over it. What exactly will happen at this Charmony Festival? Will your friends manage to find relaxation or get dragged down an inescapable rabbit hole? Time will only tell…

Shaking off the feeling of slight dread, you turned back to your luggage and checked that you had everything. You didn’t pack a lot, but enough to last your stay and more than enough room for souvenirs. Your train of thought was interrupted by rapid knocking, a familiar bubbly voice muffled by your bedroom door. 

“_____! We’ll be heading out soon! Don’t forget anything important!” March called, sounding a little impatient. You couldn’t blame her though, she had been waiting for this trip for a while. 

“I’m almost done! I’ll meet you guys in the main cabin!” You called back, scanning your luggage. 

After checking the rest of your stuff, you rolled out your luggage and bid your goodbyes to Dan Heng, meeting March 7th and the trailblazer at the main cabin.

“Are you guys ready?” You asked, smiling at March 7th’s enthusiasm and the Trailblazer’s excitement. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be! Let’s go before Himeko and Welt leave us stranded at the front desk!” March chimed.

March 7th hauled her luggage down the steps of the express, both you and the Trailblazer following suit. 

-----

Stepping into the Reverie Hotel, the floors which looked to span endlessly left you at a loss for words. It truly was a grand sight, the beautiful decor placed meticulously around the lobby. Near the reception desk were Himeko and Welt, seemingly frustrated and confused about something. 

The receptionist had an apologetic look. This couldn’t be good…

“Uh oh… Trailblazer, ____, something isn’t right.” March spoke, a concerned look on her features. It seems she has also noticed the scene up ahead. 

The Trailblazer had waved goodbye to the bell boy named Misha, following you and March 7th to the front desk. 

“Hey, what’s with the big gathering at the concierge about? We’ve just arrived and there’s already drama happening?” March sighed, stopping by Himeko.

“I’m sorry, but your name really isn’t in the system…” The receptionist apologized, Himeko crossing her arms in thought.

“Mr Yang, what’s going on here?” You gave Welt a questioning glance while the others were speaking to the receptionist. He sighed, closing his eyes before opening them again.

“There are 5 rooms reserved for us. However..the issue is that the Trailblazer isn’t on that list. I assume it’s because they didn’t arrive on the express until later.” Welt explained, looking over to the rest of the group. “Ms Alley, if it is possible, can we reassign the last room to the Trailblazer? It would still be the same amount of people.”

As the others were trying to find a solution to this check-in problem, you noticed a blond figure making his way over to the front desk. Observing his clothing, you were able to recognize that he was an IPC executive of the Strategic Investment Department. If you were to guess his reasoning for being here, it would be because of the invite The Family sent out. However, his presence here did not ease the dread that still plagued you.

The man glanced towards you, a smile devoid of emotion remaining on his face as he interrupted the receptionist’s explanation. 

From there, the group learned that his name was Aventurine, an IPC executive and one of the ten stonehearts, Diamond’s subordinate. With the attitude he was giving the group, you almost wanted to wipe that damn look on his face. The worst part was that he knew how frustrating he was, fueling your irritation further. You were about to make a retort to one of his statements before Himeko gave you a knowing glance. Crossing your arms with your brow twitching in annoyance, you spared Aventurine a glare. 

In return, that bastard gave you a smug smirk before returning to his conversation with Himeko.

The Trailblazer seemed to notice your irritation and gave you an empathetic pat on your shoulder, sharing the same frustrations. 

This ‘Aventurine’ was an enigma to you, his intentions and actions being hard to discern with arrows being pointed to varying conclusions. Being through a multitude of trailblazing missions, his character immediately spelled trouble for you and your friends. Yet finding just what trouble he will cause for your group will have to wait. For now, he was busy stirring trouble at the front desk with onlookers whispering and starting to gossip.

“-- I’ll be counting on all my ‘Trailblazer’ friends here. Looking forward to a delightful time with you all.” Aventurine’s voice interrupted your observation. Hearing the word ‘friends’ being uttered by Aventurine made you look at Himeko with a deadpan expression. It seems that you will be seeing each other around often if you were now considered his friends. Hopefully, he’d be much more interested in your Trailblazer friend..sorry Trailblazer.

Surprisingly, the head of the Oak Family, Sunday, and the universally renowned singer who was his younger sister, Robin, approached your group at the front desk. After Sunday spoke with the receptionist, Aventurine dismissed himself and walked with Sunday to the side, conversing about whatever it was Aventurine had business with. Before he left, he gave you a side glance and a smile. 

Robin’s voice snapped you out of your wary gaze, calling your group over to one of the lounges to have a seat. 

----- 

It had taken a while, but before you knew it you were finally checked in and had arrived at the VIP area. Extending your arms over your head, you hummed in satisfaction at the cracking of joints. 

“Glad that that’s over. I'm hoping nothing troublesome will await us when we arrive at our rooms.” You sighed, walking towards the bar that stood in the center of the room. 

People were scattered around the area, lost in their own conversation as you surveyed the area. 

The interior design had a nostalgic and dreamy aesthetic surrounding it, reminding you of vintage designs and items from your home planet. The atmosphere surrounding Penacony felt light, the concept and history of the place fueling your interest. You couldn’t wait for what encounters you’d face in the dreamscape. 

“_____! We’re going to put our stuff away in our rooms. Do you want to come with?” March 7th pulled you from your thoughts. 

Giving her a smile, you shook your head. 

“You guys can go without me. I’m going to look around for a bit.” “Ok! Trailblazer, let’s go!”

Watching March 7th and the Trailblazer race up the stairs with their belongings, you turned your attention toward the man who was playing the piano. You walked over and stood amongst the small crowd, watching his performance. Although you didn’t recognize the song that he was playing, it soothed your feelings and the stress from earlier seemed to almost fade away. 

Key word, almost.

After everyone had left for their separate rooms, you were the last to follow as you chatted with some of the people who worked there. You bid your goodbyes to the Intellitron nurse who was seated near the rooms and turned the corner into the hallway. However, you didn’t expect to see Aventurine walking out of the Trailblazer’s room. In an instant, you felt your stress come back in the form of a headache, just what was he doing in their room? 

“Ah, _____, is it? I apologize for any perceived slight that you may have felt during our first encounter.” Aventurine hummed, stopping in his tracks when he noticed you. “I look forward to any future encounters, friend.” 

Your eyes narrowed.

“What were you doing in the Trailblazer’s room, Aventurine?” You questioned, arms crossing over your chest. 

“No need for suspicion, friend. I was simply conversing with the Trailblazer about the room arrangements and offered my apologies.” He explained, watching you carefully analyze him. 

“Also, I appreciate you finding my appearance attractive enough to stare at during our last encounter, but I have to ask if that is appropriate of that of a Nameless?”

Your cheeks flared up in both embarrassment and anger, fingernails leaving indents on your palms when you uncrossed your arms. “Excuse me? I was not admiring your appearance, it’s best to not come to such conclusions after a first meeting, Aventurine.” You huffed.

“Is that so? Then the same could be said for you, friend. Although I haven’t made the best first impression, it wouldn’t be wise to assume that that makes up my whole character, correct?” Aventurine countered, his smile widening at your increasing irritation.

“I suppose so, my apologies.” You begrudgingly apologized, your balled fists fell lax. 

“Mmmm, I’m glad you agree. Now that that’s resolved, I’d like to discuss something with you.” Aventurine strolled closer to you, a sly smile crossing his features. This couldn’t be good. 

“Apologies, Aventurine, but it seems that–” “Friend, I would like to make you an offer that would benefit the both of us.” 

The distance between the both of you was small, about a foot away from each other. Your brow 

twitched at the closeness, nervousness clawing at your stomach. Yet, you stood your ground.

Before he could speak another word, a woman with purple hair interrupted the both of you. 

“Excuse me, do any of you know where this area is?” She inquired, giving Aventurine a glance and then looking at you. 

“I’m sorry, miss. I think there is a Family Member in the lounge who may know where your room is. Would you like me to escort you to them?” You tried taking the opportunity to get away from Aventurine and whatever he was scheming. 

“...No, that’s okay. Thank you for your help.” The woman left, continuing to pass you guys. 

“...You’ll have to excuse me, but I am feeling awfully tired after my travels.” Aventurine was about to speak up but you had already passed him, walking to your room. “I hope your stay in Penacony is a pleasant one, Aventurine.” 

He stared at your retreating form, turning a corner into another hallway. Aventurine sighed in disappointment, having looked forward to talking with you. Perhaps, he’ll have to wait until he sees you again to have a proper conversation. 

“I look forward to when we meet again, _____.”

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

note - hi everyone! i just want to say that it'll probably be a bit until i post something but i have received some of your requests! this week seems fairly busy so i'm sorry for any slow responses. i hope to get something out by tomorrow or thursday. thank you all for your understanding and support! (´◡`)

[tkaulitzlvr]

2008 tom forcing reader to answer a call from her bf while they're secretly fucking, going faster and whispering dirty things in her ear as shes on call to tease her, making it harder for her to not to make any noise🤭🤭

btw I love ur writings sm, one of my fav writers fr😩

thankyouu😽🙏🏻

ANSWER IT - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: your boyfriend calls you at a pretty inconvenient time, but tom forces you to answer, and you have to disguise what is really happening, tom not making it easy for you.

content: smut

a/n: thank u so much anon! and oh my god this req is such a good idea, literally as soon as i saw it i knew it was gonna be the next one i write, and i had so much fun making this so thank u so much for requesting i hope u like it!!💞

come over, no one else is home. 10:47pm

i stared at the text message as it came through, the words looking back at me, contemplating on whether i should give in or not. my mind, the more rational, morally correct side of me, tells me that i should say no, reminding me that i have a boyfriend, who would be home from his business trip in just a couple of hours. but, the fact that my heart should have belonged to someone else had never stopped me before. my heart was more reckless, making rash decisions that spoke only for my impulses, not the part of me that felt guilty for what i had been doing for the past few months, completely unbeknownst to my boyfriend.

it was never meant to turn out like this, no. what was firstly settled as a ‘drunk mistake’ that my boyfriend wouldn’t have to know about became a sober fuck, one that happens at least once a week. i am hooked, unable to stay away from tom despite the constant nagging that reminds me how much of an evil person i am. but my guilty conscience is not strong enough to win me over, so i keep going back, completely addicted to the way tom feels, my boyfriend unable to give me the same satisfaction.

he is kind, loyal, loving. i don’t deserve him, really. he would come home from work every evening, completely oblivious of the fact that another man had been inside of me just hours before, intimate with me in the bed that we would sleep in every night - he knows nothing about any of it.

and it is this that reminds me that i should decline tom’s offer, my eyes still blazing into the phone screen as the message stares at me. i have a boyfriend, this is wrong. the voice inside of my head says, chanting it over and over, convincing me to make the right decision for once, instead of acting purely on desire. he would be heartbroken if he ever found out, he doesn’t deserve this. my conscience continues, on the brink of winning me over, the shame of what i have become sinking into me, nothing about this entire thing justifiable on my part. i can put a stop to this, do the right thing, all i need to do is say the word.

k, i’ll be over soon. 10:51pm

i sigh, a little embarrassed at my lack of self-control, knowing that tom has me wrapped around his finger, unable to decline his invitation. the blood is on my hands, staining my innocence, and i am far too into this to ever go back to the way things once were. i jump out of bed, rushing over to the mirror and inspecting my appearance. my makeup is a little messed up, so i take time fixing it, making sure i look perfect for tom, adjusting my hair after, removing any knots in at as it falls to my shoulders. finally satisfied, i grab my keys, leaving the apartment and locking the door behind me, making my way to the parking lot.

i unlock my car, climbing in cautiously, checking that my boyfriend hadn’t unexpectedly arrived home early before turning off my location on my phone, getting used to doing these things to avoid getting caught as much as i could. the car engine starts with a low hum, radio quietly sounding out in the background as i drive to tom’s house, the guilt soon fading away as excitement buzzes around me.

the familiar house comes into view, but i park a little further down the street, not wanting to make it obvious that i was there in case my boyfriend did find out where i was. the street is dark as i climb out of my car, locking it before quickly walking towards his house, checking behind me and knocking on the door.

tom opens it within a few seconds, smirking whilst looking me up and down, moving to the side and giving me room to walk in. he shuts the door behind him, not wasting any time as he pushes me forcefully against the wall, attaching his lips to mine.

“missed you.” he mutters into the kiss as i whine a little in response, already too into it to give him a proper answer, but judging by the way his hands travel down my back, squeezing my ass firmly, it doesn’t seem like he wants to do much talking anyways.

but i didn’t mind, our hookups strictly sexual, no romance behind them. sure, he would whisper things into my ear in the heat of the moment, but i knew that it didn’t mean anything, and i didn’t want it to either. despite betraying my boyfriend in the most evil way possible, i didn’t want to end things with him, somehow still feeling something towards him though he could never pleasure me the way tom does.

without breaking the kiss, tom’s hands hook around my thighs, lifting me upwards as i instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, our lips moving against each other’s as he carries me to his bedroom, my hands locked around his neck, arms resting on his shoulders.

my back collides with the bed as he places me onto it, his hand flush against my back for support as he falls onto it with me, our lips never breaking, his body now on top of mine. he clearly doesn’t want to tease me, his hands finding the bottom of my hoodie, pulling it off and leaving it somewhere on his carpet, leaving me in only my shorts and small pink bra. he smirks at my lack of clothing, drinking it all in whilst his fingers play with the waistband of my shorts. he takes them off too, seeing that my panties match the bra, his tongue moving to the corner of his mouth.

“all this for me, hm?” he smirks, moving my thighs apart and leaning downwards, cupping my breasts in his hands, squeezing them slightly as i let out a small moan, blushing at his words and nodding my head. “i bet he doesn’t touch you like i do, get you to put in all this effort for him.”

tom continues to taunt me, the mention of my boyfriend causing my heart to wrench, guilt settling in my stomach as it is enough to remind me how much of a bad person i am. but, the second tom pulls his t-shirt off, revealing his toned frame, adorned with muscle in all the right places, his abs on full display, any thought of my boyfriend is long gone, my eyes and mind only focused on what is in front of me - the view admittedly far better than anything he could ever give.

tom reconnects our lips, his tongue entering my mouth, hips beginning to grind against mine at a torturously slow pace, hands moving to swiftly unclip my bra. i start to become impatient, fingers toying with the waistband of his jeans as i scramble for the button, undoing them as his zipper follows. he sees that i am struggling, tugging them down himself and letting his boxers come off with them.

he moves my panties to the side, not even bothering to pull them down, before sliding into me, a long moan escaping from my lips as i feel him stretch my walls, already feeling so full.

“so fucking tight, always so good.” he mutters, his forehead against mine, his breath tickling my nose as he speaks, a choked moan sounding from his lips as he is fully inside. he waits a second, studying my expression, gauging that i am okay as he almost pulls out fully, before slamming into me unexpectedly.

my breathing is heavy, body glistening with sweat as i hold onto him, my hands raking down his back as his pace speeds up, becoming more fast and relentless. i am so far gone, in too much pleasure to even process anything that is happening around me - including the sound of my phone beginning to ring.

tom, however, notices immediately, picking it up from the bedside table whilst still thrusting into me, my eyes following his movements as i am too lost in ecstasy to ask what he is doing. he turns the phone, showing me who is calling. my eyes widen as i shake my head, signalling for him to put it down, not wanting him to stop.

“answer it.” is all he says, passing the phone to me, one hand on my hips, helping him to move in and out of me easier, whilst the other holds the phone to my ear. he accepts the call, smirking as my boyfriend’s voice can faintly be heard.

“baby? hey, uh, i just got home from work. where are you?” he asks, tom nodding his head, gesturing for me to speak. a knowing smirk spreads across his face as he speeds up his thrusts, my teeth sinking into my lips to prevent a moan that is dangerously close to spilling from them.

“h-hey love.” i pant, trying to sound nonchalant, failing miserably as i feel tom hit my g-spot, a muffled whine sounding from the back of my throat.

“what are you doing? you okay?” my boyfriend asks, his tone laced with confusion.

“sorry uh- my back is sore, the usual.” i manage to get out, quickly closing my mouth as tom stares into my eyes, enjoying the way i struggle, showing no sympathy as he only drills into me faster. “i’m- i’m at my mom’s house.”

the excuse is terrible, tom furrowing his brows once i utter the words, making me realise how unbelievable it is. but, he finds my lack of thought amusing, smiling a little before resting his head in the crook of my neck, planting rough, open-mouthed kisses there. i sigh out in response, quickly covering my mouth as i mentally curse my self.

“your mom’s place? what are you doing there? it’s like nearly midnight.” my boyfriend responds, clearly hesitant to buy my excuse.

“yeah, family emergency. i-i’ll…be home in the morning-” i have to stop my speech, pursing my lips shut as a moan is dangerously close to sounding from them.

tom smirks against my neck, goosebumps forming on the skin whilst his lips curve into a slight smile.

“look at you. getting fucked whilst your boyfriend is on the phone.” tom mutters, his voice low as he makes sure that his words can’t be made out through the phone. “so wrong. but you love it, don’t you, hm? fucking slut.”

tom continues to taunt me, paying attention to the way i bite my lip, or place my tongue on the roof of my mouth, even squeeze his upper arms, anything to stop any noise from coming out of my mouth, desperate to stay undetected.

“what? is everything okay?” my boyfriend asks, showing concern as he tries to extend the situation, much to my annoyance, unable to keep this up for much longer, wanting nothing more than to cry out in pleasure. “should i come-”

“no!” i quickly say, a little harsher than i initially intended to, the utterance a mix of desperation and an attempt to hold back a moan, the combination coming out as an abrupt plea. “i mean- she, she’s just…a little overwhelmed.”

tom begins to kiss the skin below my ear, biting at it gently, knowing this spot drives me crazy, and once i shiver a little, he knows that he has me right where he wants me, changing his thrusts a little as the new angle causes a familiar knot to build in my stomach.

“could he make you feel like this, hm? only i can, right baby?” he whispers, knowing the effect that he has on me, no need for me to verbalise it, the way my eyes screw shut at his movements enough to confirm it. “so needy, letting me do this to you whilst he can hear. if only he knew…”

his words against my neck combined with the new angle makes the urge to moan almost unbearable as i bite down onto tom’s shoulder, a low grunt escaping his mouth at my unexpected action. yet it only fuels his stamina as he chuckles under his breath, enjoying the effect he has on me, the thrill of the entire situation turning him on even more.

“oh, just, let me know if you need anything okay? i love you.” my boyfriend says, finally wrapping up the conversation as i sigh in relief, feeling at ease as i have somehow managed to pull this off.

but tom clearly isn’t satisfied with how i have managed to stay quiet, desperate to get some sort of noise out of me, and, he knows exactly how to do that. one hand still holding the phone to my ear, he moves his other downwards, using it to rub circles on my clit whilst thrusting in and out of me. and that is all it takes for a restricted moan to leave my lips, unable to be mistaken for anything else. i know that i am in deep shit.

“what the fuck was that? what’s going on? are you fucking someone?” my boyfriend asks, his voice raising as he has finally picked up on what is going on.

“w-what? are you crazy? of course not!” i quickly say, panting through my words, no longer able to hide it, knowing that i am completely fucked.

“don’t fucking bullshit me! where the fuck are you? i can’t believe this, you’re fucking cheating on me? i swear to fucking god once i find-”

his furious rambling is cut off as tom ends the call, turning my phone off and throwing it somewhere on the bed, his hand now running up and down my waist.

“i did you a favour. he was fucking annoying anyways.” tom breathes out, a satisfied grin tugging on his lips, only faltering once he reconnects them with mine, the hurt of what had just happened never sinking in, tom’s movements more than enough to make me forget.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

[urhoneycombwitch]

in sickness, to cherish

foreword: so excited to release this lil’ babe into the world. PTSD and trauma healing is of special interest to me, I hope you enjoy 💖 (p.s. from my limited research I don’t think they would have used a heart monitor for low-risk patients but it is literally integral to my plot so I’m breaking my anachronistic purity rule. soz)

wc: 3k

cw: descriptions of seizure, PTSD + hospital/medical trauma for the whole gang, brief mention of non-consensual drugging, R is referred to once as “Mrs” & “girlfriend”, angst w/ comfort

___

The mounted clock on the wall of the dingy Hawkins Memorial waiting room ticks over to nine PM, a brutal reminder that time (for everyone else, at least) has not, in fact, stopped.

Nine o’clock. As you pace from one end of the plastic chair-lined aisle to the other, you run the numbers in your head, fingers spastic at your sides- it’s nine right now, and Steve was admitted just after six, which means they’ve been running tests for three hours, even though the charge nurse said it should only take one…

”You wanna step outside for a smoke?”

Eddie speaks up from his seat at the end of the row, catching your bleary gaze before you’re turning on your heel again to complete your looping track.

His voice cuts smoothly over the buzzing fluorescents, the old television in the corner droning with last week’s news cycle; it’s enough to disrupt Robin from her half-sleep against Eddie’s shoulder, blinking into consciousness and stretching her stiff limbs as you respond.

“No, thanks.” Your hands slip to the inside of your elbows, squeezing through layers of soft cardigan in a near-bruise, feet continuing the rhythmic pacing. “You can go, though- I’ll make sure Robin comes to get you if anything happens.”

Eddie clears his throat, sinking back into the hard plastic, rings clicking at the armrests. “Nah, I’m good without one. Just thought you’d want a change of scenery, maybe some fresh air would calm-”

“I’m staying here.”

There’s a sharpness to your voice, a rarity- Robin winces, fingers in her lap twisting and fidgeting as she tries to change the subject. “God, Steve’s gonna be spitting mad when he wakes up. He’s the most doctor-adverse person I know.”

Eddie latches on to this with a humorless chuckle- “Stubborn bastard. Wouldn’t let those lab goons go near him, even after last year-”

“Fuck.” The swear comes from the bottom of your toes, even as you swivel on the balls of your feet to loop back in front of your friends; their faces snap to you, a blur of motion as you pass them again- “You’re right. Steve fucking hates doctors. I should’ve-”

Your next breath comes stilted, fingers a vice-grip on your own arms as you pace, pace, pace- “I should’ve treated this like taking a dog to a vet. Crushed up some pills in his food, or something- he never listens to me when I nag him about his hearing getting worse- do you know how many meals, how many glasses of water we share, every day?”

From the corner of your hazy vision, Robin’s gone still and pale, her voice tremulous- “I didn’t mean to imply- this isn’t your fault, you know-”

But you’re not ready to hear that, guilt surfacing like a sick wave, tears pooling, moments away from spilling over, voice trembling with anguish- “Could’ve been so easy, tell him we’re going for a ride, load him up into the passenger seat, he goes to sleep and I could’a passed him right off to a doctor, to someone who could have prevented this-”

Eddie rises from his seat to stand in the middle of your path, hands lifting to soothe and appease, but you’re still in flight mode, like a bird beating its wings against the confines of its cage.

You flinch away from his touch, standing with your back turned to them both, staring out the dark window, unseeing. “You know what Steve said to me? Right before he hit the ground? He said, ‘Don’t panic, I’m gonna pass out, try not to let my hair get too messed up.’”

An edge of misplaced humor draws a dry laugh from your throat. The dark window reflects your own face back- tear-streaked, red veins encroaching on the whites of your eyes- as you shake your head in disbelief. “He made a joke. To try and distract me from the fact that he was about to hit the ground and go all… all spastic-”

Unbidden flashes of memory surge to the forefront of your mind: victims of last spring. Twisted forms snapped at the bone, Max’s arms and legs bent at horrifying angles, plaster casts from head-to-toe, freckled face still and sallow against the starch-white hospital sheets-

A leather-jacketed form in the reflection behind you, Eddie’s hand solid on your back against the shuddering breaths wracking all the air from your lungs. You don’t flinch away this time.

Your beautiful boy. Steve. With his eye-crinkling smiles and sharp wit and gentle heart, stiff as a board in the middle of your living room, eyes rolled back in his skull like a downed deer, unreachable, just three hours ago.

“I thought it was Vecna. It’s been so long but I thought he’d come back, somehow, I was this close to running upstairs and grabbing our Walkman-”

”But you didn’t.” The hand at your back is joined by another at your arm as Eddie pulls you to face him, his gaze locking on your own, brown eyes full of grave compassion. “You heard the nurse. She said tipping him on his side was the best call you could’a made, sweetheart- you saved him.”

”But I didn’t know,” you insist, “I didn’t know that’s what would help, I just did it ‘cuz I was worried he was going to choke on his own tongue-”

“Semantics. You intuited it, then.” One of Eddie’s hands leaves your arm briefly to make a dismissive gesture through the air- “Which, in my book, is all the more impressive.”

Unconvinced, your voice small and tightening along with your chest- “What if this happens again, and he’s alone, this time? What if he’s working one of his three closing shifts a week, without Robin- what if he’s driving?”

You can’t help the spiraling of your thoughts, what-if scenarios jumping in line, each one more horrifying than the last.

Robin rises to stand beside Eddie, opens her mouth- to deny, to comfort, it’s unclear- but is interrupted by a new nurse who’s just appeared in the doorway.

“Mrs. Harrington?”

This snaps you back to earth, a bit, another watery laugh as Eddie takes a step back, allowing you to swipe at the mess of tears on your face before turning to the nurse- “Yeah. As good as, I guess. How’s he doing?”

With a last look at your friends, the nurse leads you down sickeningly-bright corridors while reading from a clipboard- most of it’s medical jargon, your foggy brain struggling to keep up as you stay on her heels.

What you gather, as you’re led to his room, is nothing new- Steve’s had a seizure, likely due to the trauma his brain incurred from the ‘earthquake’ of ‘86, and it’s unclear what triggered it, or if it’s likely to happen again.

“We’re going to keep him overnight, just to monitor his condition.” The nurse stops at a door labeled Room 202, hinges squeaking as she pushes it open. “He was really lucky, this time. Must’ve had a good guardian angel looking out for him.”

Heart thrumming thick in your throat, you almost ask the nurse to wait, to give you a second- maybe a quick bathroom break to splash some cold water against the tear-tracks, or even an extra few seconds to pretend at being stoic- but she’s already ushering you in with a kind smile.

The nurse pulls the door shut, and you’re left alone with the boy in the bed.

He looks exhausted, dark circles pulling at the soft skin below his eyes, which are full of relief, trained on you as you approach.

“Hey, there’s my girl.” There’s a scratchy quality to Steve’s voice, on its way to being lost.

You were doing really well, no crying or anything, before he spoke. But hearing him, paired with the awful sight of a medical cord wrapping around the width of his broad chest, has your face crumpling in an instant.

“Oh, shit. Aw, honey. C’mere-” Steve reaches for you, halfway to sitting up off his supporting pillows, and you quickly close the gap, sitting near his hip on the bed.

“No, hey- stay down,” you chide through the tears, pushing at the shoulder of his white hospital tee. “Don’t put any stress on your body.”

“Cut the stress, she says,” Steve grumbles, leaning back against the stack of pillows but compromising by pulling you in closer. “My baby’s crying, and she tells me no stress?”

His left palm slips over your cheek, thumb swiping away tears, while his right hand- IV taped flat over the back of it- slides to rest on your waist.

”Gonna tell me what’s wrong, hm?”

Under different circumstances, you’d laugh at his question- christ, where did he want you to start: but with that amber gaze so full of empathy, desperate to fix what’s making you sad, you’re stripped raw with sincerity.

”I was just- I was so scared, Steve-”

Steve pulls your face towards his, needily, a breath away from begging for a kiss before you lean in for one.

He tastes salty, like sweat and tears, lips plush and softly seeking against the seam of your own. Between the kisses, he’s mumbling apologies, “sorry, so sorry”, broken by the need to be as close to you as all the medical gear will allow.

There’s a soft noise from the back of his throat, and you pull away just enough to bump your nose into his, hands running up to push through the soft strands of his hair.

Steve practically purrs under your touch; you’re careful not to disturb the tubing wrapping around the length of his chest, leaning your weight into his shoulders instead.

A vein of hilarity spikes as you remember Steve’s last words before he went under: and here you were, fingers pulling at his dark roots, breaking his one request. When you start to giggle, Steve’s eyes pop open, baffled, hair sticking up at the ends when your fingers leave his hair. Both hands now squeezing at your hips, he feels left out of the joke- “What?”

“I just- nothing. Never mind. I’m really glad you’re okay.” It’s the truth. You frame his lovely face with your hands, kissing his forehead once before sitting up fully. “I don’t wanna fight about it here, okay? Let’s just focus on you feeling better, and then-”

“See, now, wait a minute-” Steve holds up a finger to interrupt. “You don’t get it. I’ve been hoping and praying for hours now that my pretty girlfriend would come in here just so we could have a good fight.”

He tweaks at the skin of your hips (with the IV-hand, so you can’t just smack it away, dammit), smiling up at you far too dreamily for someone reclining in a hospital bed.

Settling against the length of Steve’s torso, your arms cross over his stomach just under the tubing as you start, carefully- “You know, Max had one of these- when she was in the hospital?”

”Yeah, you’re right.” Steve’s hands worm their way under both your cardigan sleeves, seeking out the comfort of skin like a magnet- “Think it tracks heart rate. Or something.”

“Mm-hm. And… you know how she had to go to physical therapy three times a week? For, like, half the school year?”

Steve’s thumbs swipe absently at your wrists, a line pinched between his brows, trying to piece together your angle. “…yeah?”

“Takes a lot of time, to heal from something like that.” Your eyes drop to his chest, throat swelling with the effort of holding back a sob. “And I’m just- just thinking of all the times you might be alone, and how we could have prevented this, and-”

“Hey, hey, hey- shhh…” Steve soothes, shaking his head. “Honey, it was inevitable, okay? Nothing we could’a done. The doc told me this shit can happen, like, years after a big event. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Fighting against the wall of emotion that makes speaking harder, you return his head shake, desperate for understanding- “But you can’t promise that, baby. You had a seizure- an actual, medical emergency, and… we don’t know if it’ll happen again.”

With a purposeful straightening of your spine, you state, resolutely: “I want a different promise.”

Steve presses the crown of his head back into the pillows, melodramatic, resurfacing with a tsk. “So stubborn. What promise you want, then, huh?”

”I want you to promise that you’ll see a doctor- a real one. A head guy. Not some… family medicine quack.”

Steve grins, charming even while unusually pale- “I love it when you talk medical, really gets me going-”

He decides to bail on the rest of that sentence when he sees the flare of irritation on its way to real anger in your face, raising both hands in appeasement- “Okay. Hey- I promise to see a real head doc. I don’t intend on putting you through this again.”

WIth a sigh, you surge forward again, mumbling “Thank you” into Steve’s lips, a kiss of relief and gratitude. Best news you’ve heard all day.

His groans vibrate through you, hands running down the length of your side, near the bottom of your cardigan; you squeak at the intrusion of his cold palms on the bare skin of your waist but they warm quickly, and you’re willingly distracted as his tongue presses against the seam of your lips.

Perhaps not exactly hospital-appropriate, but as it’s been an evening full of adrenaline-filled panic and heartache, you figure some making out might be a good cure for the both of you.

“Won’t scare you like that again,” Steve says, lips already pink and spit-slick, intense and breathless as he clings to you between kisses- “Gonna be okay. You saved me, angel. Love you s’much…”

Your hand, previously resting on Steve’s knee, automatically slides up at his words, notching into the soft expanse of his inner thigh over the thin sheets- “Love you too, so much…”

A bright, electronic noise jolts into frantic beeping- the monitor that Steve’s hooked up to is loud enough to startle you into sitting up.

There’s no time to process or even rearrange yourselves before the nurse from earlier bustles into the room to glare at the machine’s screen; best you can do is a swipe across your mouth, hopefully hiding any evidence of moments-ago spit-swappage as you stammer out, “Um, yeah, sorry- h-he was trying to sit up and that set it off, I guess…?”

Steve lies placid and amenable against his pillows, giving the nurse a gold-medal grin, which unfortunately does nothing to allay her suspicions.

“Uh-huh.” The monitor alarm is stopped short with the press of a few buttons, and she gives Steve a sideways look, clipboard tucked under her arm- “You ready for your other visitors, Mr. Harrington, or should I give you a few more minutes?”

“Bring forth the party, Patricia.” Steve folds his hands behind his head, wincing when his IV gets bumped but covering it with a wink.

Nurse Patricia leaves. You cover your heated face, mortified- “Oh my god. She probably thought I was giving you a handjob or something, jesus, Steve-”

He’s outright laughing at you now, unable to help it- “Come on, no she didn’t. And even if she did…”

Steve is momentarily distracted, frowning down at his chest, following the monitor’s line to the machine; you watch through cracked fingers, his face lighting up, triumphant. “See, I bet if we unplug it from the wall same time as disconnecting it from here, we might be able to fit a handy under the radar, after all!”

Robin and Eddie enter the room just as you’re swatting Steve’s shoulder; over your subdued and mildly horrified laughter, he groans in faux-pain: “God, you two got here just in time. She’s beating me up for no reason.”

As Eddie settles into the plastic chair under the opposing wall’s window, you scooch down the mattress, patting the side closest to Steve with an encouraging smile at Robin.

She takes the seat, appreciative, her clammy hand slipping into yours for support as she addresses Steve: “Y’know, if you did this to get out of doing inventory this weekend, you could just say so.”

“You caught me, Robs,” Steve says, thumbing over her knuckles fondly. “Finally gonna join my conspiracy to make Keith’s life hell?”

You’re about to cut in, emphasizing that no one else should be making any hospital visits, when a metallic screech has the three of you on the bed whipping around.

Eddie’s managed to crack the barred window- judging by the sound, it hasn’t been opened since the 70s. He freezes with all the attention, then speaks around the cigarette clenched between his lips, suave again- “Pardon the interruption. Anyone else care for a smoke?”

Everyone in the room blinks at him, in various stages of disbelief; Steve starts laughing, first, which gets Robin going, and eventually you, too, until Eddie’s grinning around the cigarette, lighter halfway to his mouth as he chuckles- “Well, can’t say I didn’t offer…”

Robin makes a comment about nicotine fumes, which quickly devolves into her and Eddie fiercely bickering.

The elevated chatter of your friends fades into the background as Steve takes your hand atop the sheets, head tilted to get you in his line of sight again- love you, he mouths.

Love you, too.

[malarign]

silence

contains: crush!Riki x fem!reader | genre: fluff but with angst at the beginning | tw! yn is totally blind man idk what to tell you, mild argument with a reconciliation :)) | wc: 1,0k

reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: i just thought it would be nice to write some continuation to shoulder nap, so hope you enjoy!

You shifted in your sleep as the sound of a ringing phone reached your ears. Scrunching your face in tiredness and lassitude you opened your eyes that soon got bigger at the sight in front of you. Just inches from your face was Riki, who slept soundly with his arms wrapped around you. You froze realizing you must have dozed off on him. What if you made him uncomfortable? Why didn’t he just wake you up?

Your living room filled with the sound of an incoming call, so you wanted to see who that was but Riki’s grip around your waist tightened.

“Don’t go,” he mumbled half awake and nuzzled his face against yours.

Freezing at his small action you felt how blush tinted your cheeks. What the hell is happening?

“Riki, it’s really late and I think it’s your phone not mine,” you reasoned, hoping it’ll make him let you get up but he lazily shook his head.

“I don’t get to spend time with you almost at all,” he said, voice low from his sleepiness. “And I hate it. If I knew I won’t be able to hang out with you as much as we did earlier, I wouldn't have become an idol.”

“You don’t mean it,” you said after a solid minute of being at loss for words. He dreamt of standing on a stage since you could remember. And now you could see a new side of him, a new smile that performing in front of seas of fans created. You loved watching it, just like you loved him.

“I don’t mean what?” His eyes met yours in the darkness. “Hating not being able to spend time with you or not becoming an idol?”

“Both?” you said quietly, but unfortunately loud enough for him to hear. How he wished he didn’t though.

“When will you finally realize?” he sent an ask into the ether.

You got up nervously and handed him his phone, pretending you didn’t hear his confession-like question. Riki looked up at you slightly sad and resigned and with a sigh took his phone which started ringing again. Accepting the call he heard Jungwon, who was either extremely nervous or furious.

“Riki? Where the hell are you?” His voice reached even your ears through his phone.

“At Y/n’s place, where else?” he snapped back.

“Do you know how late it is? Do you know who gets massive nagging from our manager?” Jungwon asked helplessly, but not hearing any response from the younger he continued after calming down a bit: “Send me her address, I’ll get you a cab.”

“No need to, I’ll get it myself.” Riki ended a call and without a word walked past you to the front door.

“Riki,” you called him before he could step out of your apartment. “Are we okay?”

His eyes filled with hurt looked straight into yours. Not wanting to say too much, he decided to not say anything. He just turned around and closed the door behind him leaving you confused, with a single crack on your heart.

Days passed and not even a single message was exchanged between you two, unusual for your long term friendship. The silence killed you from inside and in frustration of being ignored by him you decided to pay him a surprise visit. Greeting the security that by now knew you pretty well from all the times you watched their dance jam lives or other activities you made your way to the dance studio they always used.

“Y/n?” You heard Jungwon’s voice when you were about to step in. He looked at the determined expression that painted your face and without questioning you he said: “He’s alone. Please solve whatever happened cause he’s being unbearable.” Mumbling the last part he left you in front of the practice room.

You could hear music coming from inside accompanied by a few frustrated grunts. Taking a firm hold on a handle you stepped in. As soon as he saw it was you he stopped his routine and turned around to face you. Looking at him you tried to stay mad, but just like the day you last spoke his eyes showed hurt, making it almost impossible. But somehow you managed to spit out: “Are we gonna talk or you’re going to ignore me again?”

He lowered his head and glued his eyes to his feet. Already familiar silence suffocated you. He finally said weakly: “I like you, Y/n. Screw this, I love you. And I don’t know what else I have to do for you to finally realize that.”

Now it was him who searched for answers in your eyes. But the impact of his words dumbfounded you. So your stupid feelings were reciprocated this whole time?

“What?” you asked in a whisper. Tears brimmed abruptly in your eyes not believing what you just heard. “Say that again.”

The face you put on brought a smile to his lips. He stepped closer to you to the point the tips of your shoes touched.

“I love you.” His hand brushed the strand of your hair away and made you let out a shaky breath.

“Again.” Your voice was even more quiet.

“I love you.” He raised your head by your chin to face him properly.

“Again.”

Riki leaned in, laying a soft kiss on your lips. It took a while for you to respond but when you did both of you melted in each other’s touch. He cupped your cheeks as you placed yours at the back of his neck. Pulling away he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Can’t believe you didn’t see how crazy you made me feel throughout our friendship,” he suddenly chuckled.

“How was I supposed to know?”

“I literally said I wouldn’t become an idol for you, I think it’s quite telling,” he reasoned. “And please, I let you fall asleep on me, why on Earth would I let you do that?”

“Because we’re friends? Friends care about each other,” you said tilting your head.

“I cuddled you, in my arms. You think I cuddle Sunoo to sleep?” He tried to argue convincingly.

“You don’t?”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

taglist: (open) @nicholasluvbot, @en-chantedtomeetyou, @skzenhalove, @nfrgirl, @kpoprhia, @redm4ri, @jaelaxies, @yenqa

[ghostofhyuck]

I want your midnights

But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Goodbye!”

“Take care!”

“Call me when you get home!”

And the very last guest just left your home. You could only let out a sigh as you returned to the mess left as you held a New year party at your home. There’s a lot of deflated balloons, large glitters, and party strings everywhere, the chairs were out of place and the dining table was still full of leftover food.

You can’t even think about the kitchen because you surely know that it’s full of plates and kitchen wares waiting to be washed. The empty bottles of wines and cans of cheap beers heaping on the kitchen island.

You decided to sit on the couch to rest for a bit, that’s when it hit you that your feet are aching from wearing heels the whole night.

“You okay?” a soft tone calls you out and before you knew it, Jeno was kneeling in front of you. Removing your shoes.

“What did I tell you about wearing heels?” he says in a stern voice.

“You know how much I love wearing heels,” you defended.

“Of course I know, but next time don’t wear pointy heels, they’re hard to balance,” your feet are now free and you could only rest your head as exhaustion hits you slowly, ignoring your boyfriend’s nagging.

“Want me to take you to your room?” Jeno asked, sitting beside you.

“No no, I have to clean the mess, you know how lazy I can be in the morning,” you told him.

“You can rest, you know that? I can take care of it,” your boyfriend assures.

“Jeno, you’re tired too, you’ve been helping me nonstop since morning,”

“But —”

“No, I don’t want to hear another word. It’s my party and I’ll clean the mess,” you said with a serious tone.

A minute of silence passed between you two. You and your boyfriend are having a staring contest, waiting on who’ll give in.

“Fine, but I’ll take care of the dishes and the leftover meals,” Jeno surrenders.

You could only chuckle at his defeat, “I love you so much, you know that?”

Jeno smiles, “before that, I want to give you something.”

He quickly leaves the room which confuses you. It’s New Year, and though it’s sweet that he has a gift for you, you’re a bit taken back because you don’t have anything to give him.

“And before you overthink about having nothing to give me, it’s fine don’t worry,” Jeno tells you as soon as he returns. He sat beside you and from there, he was holding a small box.

Your heart started to pound, this isn’t how your New Years supposed to start. You couldn’t help but nervously smile as Jeno places the small box in front of you.

Contrary to what you thought it was, the box contains a silver chain necklace with a pendant of a “J.” Making you sigh in relief.

“It’s beautiful,” you muttered. It was simple but it totally suited your taste. You grabbed the necklace as your fingers traced the pendant. “J for Jeno?”

“I have yours too,” Jeno replies, grabbing a necklace that was hidden from his undershirt. Same design with your initial as his pendant.

“Come here, I’ll put it on you,” you immediately handed him the necklace, turning around and brushing off the hair that covers your neck.

You felt the cold pendant just above your chest. You couldn’t help but smile as you wore your lover’s initials. He also wore yours which made you smile wider.

“Jeno!” you couldn’t help but to squeak as he kissed your neck — next thing you knew, his lips trailed on your shoulder while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“We need to clean up the mess,” you tell him but you couldn’t help but soften against his touch and kisses especially when he pulls you closer to him.

“It can wait.”

“But I’m tired and sleepy,” you whined, trying to squeeze yourself out but Jeno is just too strong for your own good.

“I told you that you can go and rest,” he rebuts.

“It’s my party, I should clean too!”

But it seems like Jeno is not stopping. You could only roll your eyes as you tried to fix your position, finding yourself comfortable sitting on his lap. From there, you could see his smile where his eyes also smile too. His hands are on your waist which tells how much he wants this.

“You better help me clean, okay?” you said before placing a kiss on his cheeks. You couldn’t help but chuckle as a lipstick mark planted perfectly on his cheeks.

“Of course, come here now,” he tells you eagerly, pulling you to a deep kiss.

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒜 𝐹𝒪𝒪𝐿 𝐼𝒩 𝐿𝒪𝒱𝐸

info ⭑ geto suguru x reader ﾉ 2.4k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ ex-boyfriend geto ﾉ band au ﾉ hurt/comfort ﾉ a wee bit angsty ﾉ some suggestive bits ﾉ reader is tipsy ﾉ ambiguous ending

note ⭑ hi! after writing this, i really wanna continue something with this band au geto! not sure if that means i'll be making this into a series. . . perhaps an anthology? idk! lmk if you'd be interested :3 happy reading !

the streets of tokyo during the late hours of the day are restless—especially here in shibuya. you’d think the bustling crowds, fast pace, and your slightly tipsy state would make it difficult to recognize anyone but the universe seems keen to prove you wrong recently.

because standing at the corner of the street you’re supposed to be turning at is him—the man you haven’t seen in nearly five months and didn’t plan on seeing any time soon.

the sight of geto makes you stop–or more accurately, stumble–in your tracks. you can’t help the way your eyes widen and your mouth hangs open. it’s as if time slows for a couple of seconds in his distant presence. you can’t think straight and you aren’t sure if that’s because of him, too, or if you have the alcohol to blame for that.

regardless, when you finally regain cognitive function after what feels like an eternity, you’re able to tell yourself that you need to turn around and find another route home. unfortunately for you, the thought comes a second too late, geto spinning to face you just before you have the opportunity to turn on your heel. the brief moment of shared eye contact doesn’t stop you from trying to run for the hills, though you quietly curse yourself for getting caught in this predicament while you do so.

you hear the shout of your name from behind you, but you don’t dare come to a halt. your perseverance to escape is futile, made apparent by the newfound proximity of the familiar voice and the feel of fingers snaking around your wrist. you aren’t sure what possesses you to do so, but you quickly swing around to face the man hellbent on catching up to you. he seems just as surprised as you if the way his eyebrows shoot up is any evidence. 

“hey, wait—i come in peace.” geto raises his hands in mock surrender to show that he stands by his words.

you believe him. 

your fingers are cool as they brush against your forehead in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. there isn’t much you can think to say other than, “sorry, i just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“i gathered as much.” geto nods, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. he knew this reunion–if it ever even happened–would be awkward, but the air between the two of you is so tense that he finds it a little hard to breathe. he clears his throat before continuing. “kind of looked like you were trying to avoid me though.”

“got me there,” you softly admit.

geto understands but he doesn’t relate. he’s been trying to get a hold of you since he landed back in japan last week and his efforts have been fruitless until now. running into you this way may have been a coincidence but geto doesn’t intend on squandering what just might be his one chance to tell you what has been nagging at his mind for the past few months. “look, i was hoping we could talk.”

the expression that paints your face upon hearing his request is apprehension. he can practically see the blinking red lights and hear the alarm bells going off in your head. and, as much as he hates to admit it, your worry makes sense. the last time he asked you to talk, he broke up with you.

“ten minutes—fifteen, max.” geto attempts to bargain. he hopes the limit on the time you have to spend with him will convince you to agree, to hear him out. it hurts, but after chewing on his cheek, he adds another condition that’ll work in your favor. “and after, if you don’t want to see me again, i’ll leave you alone for good.”

with as much effort as you’ve been putting into steering clear of geto since his return, you’d think his words would come as a comfort to you. they don’t, though. the feelings that surge within you at hearing them contradict your strict avoidance of geto up until this point. they make you confront the fact that you have wanted to see him and can’t stomach the thought of never seeing him again.

you’re taking a risk by doing so, but you nod.

“okay, let’s talk.”

the two of you end up at some park a little ways away from the city center—one where you can see the orangey-red leaves flutter through the air once they fall from the trees and watch the fountain in the pond shoot up water that rains back down. despite how pretty the scenery is, you can’t help but look at geto instead.

it’s been practically half a year since you last saw him. you’re sure he’s changed quite a bit since then but all you can focus on are the ways he’s stayed the same, the little parts of him that you missed while he was gone—like the dragon tattoo that snakes up his shoulder to his collarbone. seeing it floods your head with memories of when the two of you were together. mornings spent tracing the delicate lines with feathery touches, kissing up the ink and coloring the creature with love bites.

you almost flinch at the reminder. your plan wasn’t to revisit the past, at least, not those moments, but seeing the tattoo on display makes it almost impossible. it’s geto’s fault for wearing that stupid sleeveless hoodie. you drag your gaze up to meet the obsidian shards that are his eyes. “strange choice of attire for such a chilly night.”

he rubs his arm at your observation, a grin gracing his lips. “yeah, i didn’t plan on staying out for long.”

you know that you agreed to come with him, but even sitting on opposite sides of the same bench is proving to be overwhelming. so, instead of regarding his innocent statement as simply that, you view it as an out. “if you have somewhere you need to go or someone you’re supposed to meet, we can do this another time.”

“no way.” geto doesn’t let a beat of quiet pass before he speaks and shakes his head. “i finally caught you and i’m not letting you get away so easily.”

the confession stuns you to silence. there are a million thoughts bouncing off the walls of your skull right now–how this wasn’t a good idea, that you weren’t obligated to listen to what he wants to say–but the one that worms its way past the others and to the forefront is that his words are… romantic. it’s frustrating that you aren’t mad at him, especially when you’ve spent so long convincing yourself that you should be.

it seems as though the feelings you tried so hard to bury are beginning to resurface.

you clear your throat. “what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

“right,” geto starts, a hand coming up to scratch at his neck. his tongue pokes out from between his lips to poke at the metal hoops wrapped around them. they’re things he does when he’s nervous, like when he first asked you out on a date or when he’d tune his guitar while waiting to go on stage. you wonder what it is on his mind that has him so on edge. though, you aren’t sure if it’s your place to ask, to show concern like you used to, so you stay quiet.

“i guess i wanted to talk about how we left things,” he finally tells you.

you should have seen this coming, and maybe part of you–a part you were trying to ignore–did. there isn’t much more the two of you can discuss. there have been a lot of unspoken thoughts lingering on your mind since that night, ones that you never planned on letting see the light of day. you’ve gone so long sitting on your feelings; what’s the point in digging them up now?

“what more is there to talk about exactly?” you ask, crossing your arms—using them as a shield. “you broke up with me to go on tour and i told you that i understood—no hard feelings.”

geto is quiet across from you, but you can tell there’s something weighing on his mind, words on the tip of his tongue. a few moments of stillness pass before he spits it out. “i don’t think you mean that. not then and… not now.”

“what do you want me to say, suguru?” you toss your hands up in frustration. your voice has been low, controlled up until this point but rises with your question, with your growing irritation. does he want to humiliate you even more than he already has? your intention of continuing to sit on your feelings, to keep them hidden, is lost with the way words unknowingly spill past your lips. “that i was dumb for thinking that i was worth a little more effort to you? that i should have let go of you as easily as you did me?”

there’s a certain level of relief that comes with your words but they also open up a wound you’ve been trying your best to close. all the emotions you felt that night feel as raw as they did then, as though you’re reliving it all over again. 

the tears return, gathering at your lash line and threatening to fall but never rupturing the dam. the insecurity comes back, too. you can feel the ghost of a knife piercing your heart as you think about how it felt like he had chosen music over you. but who were you to ask him to reconsider—to think of you before his music, his dream?

tonight is turning out to be more than you can handle.

you’re about to stand, apologize for your outburst, and excuse yourself when geto speaks up.

“i didn’t let go of you—not really,” he quietly admits. his hand reaches up to his neck again, fingers twirling the loose hairs that happened to make it out of his bun. the action makes his words carry more truth and while you can’t bring yourself to believe him entirely, hearing them has an uncontrollable effect on you.

one of the tears you were adamant about not shedding until you were out of his sight rolls down your cheek. you quickly wipe it away with the sleeve of your shirt. “you don’t have to say that, it’s not going to make me feel any better.”

“i mean it, though, i do.” when you finally muster up the courage to meet his stare, his eyes tell you that what he said is the truth. his eyes have never lied. “i thought about you every day while i was on tour.”

the confession sends a pang to your heart. it clears up the fog of turmoil clouding your mind, although a haze of uncertainty lingers. does he mean that he missed you—the same way you’ve been hopelessly missing him?

you don’t have to aimlessly ponder, as geto continues.

“look, i asked you here because i wanted to tell you that i regret how i went about things. i thought about my choice–about you–a lot. and i realized a little too late that i owed us a chance. i was scared that we couldn’t handle long distance and that we’d both end up hurt but i never considered the possibility that it might have worked for us.”

geto unconsciously reaches for you, though when he realizes what he’s doing, he thinks better of it, letting his hand rest in his lap instead. just because he’s laying himself bare for you doesn’t mean the pain he’s caused has disappeared. besides, he still has one thing to say before you can even consider forgiving him.

his tongue glides across his lower lip, over the two silver hoops situated on either side. “i made a decision that both of us should have had a say in. i’m sorry.”

beyond the feelings of heartache and self-doubt, the thing you felt most that night was unheard—as if anything you could have thought to utter during that moment would have fallen on deaf ears. geto seems to have noticed that much, reflected on it and recognized his mistake. his apology, the acknowledgment of his fault, unchains the final weight that was tugging at your heart.  

you sniff and dab at the stray tears that have trickled down your face. “thanks for saying so. and… i forgive you.”

there’s a weight of his own that makes geto’s chest feel lighter upon hearing your words. from the minute he started rehearsing this conversation, he imagined that he’d damaged you to the point of being unworthy of your compassion, your forgiveness. this is more than he could have asked for, even if you still choose to take him up on his offer of leaving you alone for good.

“i’m glad,” geto nods, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, though he doesn’t let the short moment of happiness overtake him. “i know that was probably a lot and if you need to take some time to decide how you want us to proceed, if at all, i understand.”

you shake your head and the corners of geto’s lips fall into a neutral line. he made a good point earlier, one that you can’t ignore if you want to prevent yourself from getting hurt the way you did before. and despite just learning about it, geto was hurting, too. if you can minimize the pain either of you have to experience, you will.

you clear your throat with hopes that your voice will come out steady. “i’d rather come to that conclusion together. since it has to do with both of us, y’know?”

geto’s shoulders slump as the tension seeps from them. “yeah. yeah, of course. whenever you’re ready.”

“we can start tonight if you have time,” you suggest, bashfully rubbing up and down your arms. it really feels like you’re starting over. before you knew his name, simply when you had a crush on the hot guy playing at the bar you were visiting for the night. “i want to hear about how your tour went.”

“okay,” geto easily agrees, the smile from earlier making its way back to his lips. it meets his eyes and the obsidian shards sparkle—with hope.

hi there, sua here! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[theemporium]

[1.4k] mayfield!reader, bad ideas in the backseat of a car and steve realising he is just a teenage boy who will do anything to see a pair of tits (smut)

based of the prompt: “I’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now” 

.

“We should stop.” 

“Do you want to stop?” 

There was a brief pause, tension and desire thick in the air. 

“Fuck no.” 

Somewhere in the back of the back of his head, there was a voice nagging him that he shouldn’t be doing this. The voice was telling him that it was already a bad idea the other times he had done it, that it was risky and stupid and not worth the eventual consequences. And somewhere, deep down, Steve agreed. 

Just not at that very moment. 

Because in the end, Steve was a teenage boy with very little self-preservation instincts and even lower self-restraint when a pretty girl flashes him a smile and gives him a little bit of attention. 

“Fuck, Stevie,” your voice was humming against him, words tickling his neck as your lips wandered further down. Sweet, chaste kisses that made a pitiful whine leave his lips when you skipped over the spot you both knew drove him mad. “Can’t leave too many marks on my pretty boy.” 

“Yes, you can,” he answered embarrassingly fast, the words practically tumbling from his mouth as he reached out to grip the back of your thighs. The skirt you had been wearing when he picked you up was long abandoned, left somewhere in the front seat and the tank top did little to cover your torso. 

God, Steve fucking loved summer.

“Yeah?” The amusement was dripping from your voice, making his heart skip a beat as your fingers danced down his chest, your eyes focused on the way his abs softly clenched under your touch. “Wanna show everyone who you belong to?” 

“Shit,” his head fell back against the headrest when the heel of your palm pressed against the bulge in his shorts. He hadn’t even had time to change out of his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform. He hadn’t had time to do much before you had slipped the note to him in between dollar bills and a sly wink. “You…you can’t say shit like that.” 

“I can’t?” you hummed as your fingers nimbly began working on the zip of his blue shorts. “But I like the way you blush all pretty when I do.” 

“You’re a menace,” he managed to gasp out as he lifted his hips, shrugging the material of his uniform off until he was just left in his boxers in the back seat of his car with you on his lap. 

“And you love it, Stevie,” you retorted as your fingers dug into his cheeks, pulling his face close enough that your noses were brushing. “That’s why you keep coming back for more, isn’t it, baby?” 

Steve groaned, his hooded eyes focused on your glossy lips. He could already practically taste the cherry lip balm on his tongue. “Your brother—”

“What my step-brother doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you corrected as your lips just ghosted against his. “Plus, he’s the last thing I want to be talking about right now.” 

Steve could feel his body buzzing in pleasure and excitement as you rolled your hips, a few flimsy barriers of material keeping him from where he wanted to be as his hands slid along your torso and sides. 

“Don’t you wanna break some rules, Harrington?” you whispered to him before kissing him senseless.

It was the kind of kiss that made you forget about everything else in the world. It was the kind of kiss that left his lungs burning for air and his lips burning for more. It was the kind of kiss that kept Steve coming back even though he knew it was a bad idea. 

“I-I’m not much of a rule follower myself,” Steve dumbly muttered as he chased your lips, as he chased for more but you just pushed him back. 

You tried to bite back your smile. “You gonna help me be a bad girl, Stevie?” 

Steve swallowed. “How bad do you wanna be?” 

“I have a few ideas,” you whispered to him in the darkness of his car, parked and hidden away off the main road. Hidden away from the world that was so desperate to keep you apart. “A few things I want to…try.” 

He could see the brief hesitation in your eyes. Because despite how confident and self-assured you acted, he knew there was a little spark of insecurity that stopped you from giving in. Because he knew this was all new to you, that you weren’t always sure what you were doing, that you were scared of fucking up somehow. 

Steve knew because that was the whole reason this messy situation had started. 

Temptation to taste the one thing he couldn’t have under the guise of helping, under the guise that he could teach you and guide you and show you a world you were hidden away from for so long.

It was stupid but Steve couldn’t stop himself—not when it came to you. 

“Tell me what you wanna do, sweetheart,” Steve said to you, his voice low and gruff and it made you want to squeeze your legs together. You could never quite deal with his voice, you could never quite deal with what it did to you.

Your fingers danced along the waistband of his boxers. “I wanna fuck you.” 

He raised his brows, clearly amused. “You wanna fuck me? Done that quite a few times, baby.” 

“No, I—” you paused for a moment, something heated in your eyes as you pulled the confinements of his boxers down enough so his cock sprung out. You gulped a little before you continued, “I’ve always let you fuck me, Stevie. I wanna change that.” 

And, god, he couldn’t handle it when you said his name like that.

“I wanna fuck you,” you said, sounding a little more confident and sure in your words this time around. Your eyes found his once again and this time he didn’t miss the hint of mischief as you reached down to pull the tank top over your head, throwing it somewhere in the car with the rest of your clothes. “And you’re gonna let me.” 

“Uh huh,” he murmured, a little dazed as he watched you reach around to unclip your bra. His eyes didn’t move even as the material of the undergarment fell from your chest. “Fuck me, baby. Do what you want.” 

Your eyes seemed to spark with his words. “Anything I want?” 

His cock was painfully hard, a bead of precum spilling from the tip as he looked at the very pretty—and very naked—girl on his lap. And if he was being completely honest, any thoughts or common sense he had were gone long before you even took your bra off. You could have asked anything of him at that moment. Fuck, you just had to smile at him and he was dropping down to his knees for you. 

“I’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now,” Steve gritted out between clenched teeth, hands squeezing your thighs as he tugged you close to him again, as he shattered whatever space was left between you. “My pretty girl said she was gonna fuck me.” 

The giggle you let out would’ve had you rolling your eyes at yourself months ago, but something about Steve Harrington calling you pretty just turned you to mush. 

You didn’t fight it this time as you kissed him, giving into that warming feeling in the pit of your stomach that told you to just give yourself to him. To give in to the pleasure and desire and lust that made you feel dizzy and sick in the best ways possible. 

He never got over the little gasp you let out as you sunk down on him, the way your hands grabbed onto his shoulders and your eyes were focused on the space between your bodies as you watched him disappear inside you. 

He never got over the pretty sounds you made, the way you said his name in some mix of a whine and a gasp as you felt yourself reaching your climax and how you clung onto his body until every possible square inch of your skin was touching his.

He never got over the way your lips met his in a bruising kiss, your hands lost in his hair and your words whispered into his ear as you told him to come, as you told him to finally give in after making you feel so good. 

It was fucking addictive and Steve Harrington could never stop, no matter how bad of an idea it was. 

You called, he answered.

No matter how stupid it was that he kept giving in every single damn time.

.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

JASON TODD & DAMIAN WAYNE (generalized fanon | maybe wfa)

—

“Reaction Time” (Jason Todd x Fem!Reader) and (Damian Wayne & Platonic!Reader)

| Reader is introduced to the first of her new boyfriend’s extended family.

| SFW, breaking in, Damian Logic™ -frazzled!reader

| pic sources: beg.=rebirth rhato, middle=batman & robin#12, and end=rebirth teen titans • all comics

| part of the meet the bats series

| 1k+ words

It’s the small hours of the morning still, you can tell by the heat of Jason’s body pressed along your side. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, the comforter hasn’t fallen off your body at any point, you're not too hot, and when you listen over the sound of your own breathing you don’t hear anything off.

Your soft breaths sound normal, nothing concerning there. You hold your breath so you can hear better. You want to go back to sleep but you have to get rid of the nagging ✨wrongness✨ that had you awake in the first place.

You find Jason’s breathing fine, luckily calm, and when you focus harder you can make out the tiny murmurs - Jason consistently had nightmares, whether they woke him or you up or not - and the more pronounced huffs of breath that were a product of wherever the Sandman had taken him. There was something off about it though, like it was louder.

Your nose scrunches and you finally open your eyes, sliding blurry sleep crusted orbs to watch your boyfriend you piece it together. His breaths weren’t louder; they were overlapping. Or-

You blink your eyes open wider, watching his chest rise up and down. Both sets of breaths weren’t matching. Your world stutters.

The breaths were coming from opposite directions too.

It’s as your head’s whipping around that you feel the barely there scrape across your neck and the flash of metal in the corner of your eye. Your body freezes, breaths quickening in your chest just as Jason jumps up and your eyes lock on a small shadowy figure.

“If I was you I wouldn’t move another inch,” Jason warns.

You whimper, barely registering the safety of a gun clicking off and Jason's arm raised over you.

Then you scream.

A small voice talks right over you.

“Tt, this is who you want to be your girlfriend? She has terrible response time.”

“Damian?”

Jason’s exclamation makes you gasp.

“You know him?”

Jason glances at you when you talk through your screaming, face creasing in worry, before he groans and clicks back on the safety of the gun. Putting it back underneath his pillow and then easing the blade away from your neck.

“Baby, breath, okay? I’m gonna deal with him,” he nods at the shadow who sounds like a fucking baby - what the fuck? “And you're gonna be fine. Sheath this shit Damian or so help me god,” he grounds out.

You’ve stopped screaming but your chest is heaving as you watch the kid move and put away the sword. That’s a suspicious amount of stop light colors.

“Is that Robin?”

Another scoff from Robin. There’s a superhero in your apartment, why in the world?

“Y/n baby-”

Jason’s voice is only the tiniest bit hysteric, which is utterly inappropriate because you are buzzing out of your skin right now. You scramble up when Jason tries to keep you down, squeezing as close to the other side of the bed as you can with him in the way.

“Why are you so calm? What the fuck is Batman’s sidekick doing in my apartment, Jason?”

“Leaving,” he shoos the boy harshly. “He was fucking leaving.”

Robin shrugs and you find yourself laughing lightly.

“Oh my god….”

What if you were naked? You could’ve so easily been naked right now.

“Oh my god…”

Robin waves towards you with a scowl.

“She is an insufficient choice for a partner.”

“What the- get out! I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

“You are also losing your touch, Todd, you should have sensed me seconds before my weapon got that close-”

Jason grits his teeth and whips around to point at the door.

“I’m not losing shit. Now, go. The fuck. Outside.”

Robin purses his lips, domino creasing in what you can only guess is a glare, before marching out. You stare wide eyed after his back, eyes drawn specifically to the hilt of his sword.

“Jason…”

“I am so sorry. Is your neck okay?”

All you can do is nod.

He moves so he’s in front of you, blocking your view of the door and the tiny vigilante behind it. His hands hover awkwardly over your body while he speaks in hushed tones.

“That’s good at least.” He huffs, “I told them to give me space because you weren’t ready, I did. I promise.”

“Mhm,” you nod then drop your head in your hands. “Jason?”

“Yes baby?”

“I’m about to cry.”

He sucks in a breath.

“Okay, alright okay, just hold on. I-” he jumps out of the bed. “I’m gonna draw you a bath and get you some tea and send my little brother home, alright?”

“Yeah okay,” you mumble. Bless him but your boyfriend never knew what the hell to do with blatant emotions.

Or, scratch that, he knew what to do and could talk it out just fine when they were your feelings. He also just overcompensated for the teary stuff.

You take in a deep breath, rubbing at your temples.

This time when Jason reaches for you he touches. Warm hands grab your own and bring them down to his lap, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

“It’s fine. You’re fine. I’ll handle it.”

“Yeah,” you breath, blinking wet eyes at him. “I trust you.”

He blinks, “You trust me?”

His brows move up and his head tilts, and it’s all very endearing but-

“I know, okay, but not right now. Let’s shelve that for when I’m more awake and your kid brother who’s Robin isn’t in my living room.”

“Agreed,” he licks his lips. “We’ll talk about everything tomorrow.”

“Amazing,” you lean in and the two of you share a brief kiss. “I’m gonna head to the bathroom.”

“You deserve it, get in there.”

You laugh faintly, pulling your sleep shirt over your head and grabbing a shower cap to switch out your bonnet with.

“Passion flower tea?”

You give him a thumbs up and a ‘yes please’ before disappearing behind the bathroom door. You miss the way Jason smiles at your retreating form.

The last thing you hear before you slip into the rising warm water and flowery scented bath salts is a litany of soft curses before Jason forces himself to go have that conversation with his brother.

─────

“So how’d it go?”

You lean against your closet door, new set of pajamas on.

“He’s embarrassed but he’ll live,” Jason heaves a sigh, hands running down his face. “I’m sorry again.”

You shrug, “It’s fine. Not like you planned it. Now, are you okay?”

“No, yeah, I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

You walk up and wrap your hands around his wrists, he gives in to your request and lets you pull his hands away. You bring them down to his sides and run your palms up his arms, rubbing out some of the tension, before cradling the sides of his face.

He cracks his neck before looking at you and you give him a little smile.

“It’s cool, I’m not going anywhere.”

“If you say so,” he hums, hands coming up to rub at your forearms. He turns to press a kiss into your palm.

“I do say so. You told me your family was weird Jason.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t regular people weird and I can’t even promise he won’t do it again. Or that one of the others won’t just show up one day too.”

“Uh huh,” you shrug and move in so you can peck him on the lips. “I’ll just have to get used to your brand of weirdness then. No big deal.”

He scoffs, “‘No big deal’ she says. Just wait.”

You laugh much less tinged with panic this time.

“I will, because I want to be a part of your life.”

His eyes crinkle.

“Yeah yeah,” he murmurs before kissing you longer this time. When you pull away he’s smiling. “I love you too.”

He clams up, casts this guarded look at you, and you shake your head.

“Oh my god, Jason. I also love you. Can we go back to bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Sounds good.”

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!

[hyperfixat]

AI LESS WHUMPTOBER DAY FOUR HIDING AN INJURY

support and engagement would really motivate me to help post and work on the rest of this stuff!

(@ailesswhumptober)

You desperately want to fit in with your demonic housemates, but it’s so hard sometimes. They’re so fast and strong, and all in all so much more capable than you… at times it’s embarrassing, or humiliating, but they don’t even have to show it off for you to notice everything they’re doing you could never dream of.

It is no secret that demons are more physically capable than humans, in terms of speed and strength, and everything important. You can’t resent them for this, they can’t control their anatomy, but it doesn’t stop you from resenting yourself.

If only you could run a little faster, jump a little higher, last a little longer. Being left behind, tears a hole into your heart, the fear of being forgotten, even worse, abandoned, drives you to push your limits.

Even when you’ve solidified a place in the family of the Avatars, anxiety still nags at you to push, push, push.

This is far from the first time you’ve injured yourself trying to keep up with the demons, and you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. You ran a little too far, with strides too big for your body to handle and you damn near heard something tear.

Luckily, a couple steps after the injury, they were done dashing across campus. You walk inside RAD in line with them, suppressing winces and attempting to fix the limp your body begs to have.

“MC.” Lucifer’s voice calls to you as he approaches from the other end of the hall. The brothers around you quiet down and watch.

“Lucifer.” You stare back.

“Come with me, I need to talk with you. Privately.”

You hide your hobble as you take stride behind the demon and he pulls you into an empty classroom. Your leg aches at the impact of stumbling into the room, and Lucifer’s face twitches as you attempt to mask the pain.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Of course, why do you ask?” You strain to keep your voice light and unbothered.

“You are injured. Do not lie.”

Damn him.

Huffing out your frustration you roll your eyes, “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing to worry about. Thank you for your-.”

The flippant way you attempt to dismiss his concern frustrates him. Lucifer’s eyes flash, light making the red look like lasers.

“If you do not tell me where you are injured we will do this my way. I will find out what is ailing you.” For a moment you wish to indulge him in that, see what his way is.

Lucifer holds another standoff (stare off) with you before you break.

“My ankle hurts.” You grumble the phrase, averting eye content.

“Good human,” Lucifer says way too casually. It makes your heart leap. Before you know it he’s kneeling in front of you. “This one?” he hovers his hands above your injured ankle. When you nod, he tugs your pant leg up and cuffs it.

Lucifer hums thoughtfully as he gently pulls your sock down and examines the bare skin of your ankle. It’s slightly reddened, darkened, due to the extra blood flow. Using his teeth, Lucifer tugs off his leather glove on his dominant hand and presses it to your bare skin. A light flow of magic and your ankle is good as new.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.” He really didn’t, you’ve managed just fine without him thus far.

“Nonsense. Now, tell me, how did you come to obtain such an injury?”

Embarrassment leads you to lie. “I don’t know.”

“Lying again? I thought you were better than this, MC.” Disappointment from Lucifer hurts, but doesn’t thaw the embarrassment.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t go trying to run away.” Lucifer manages to stop you before you can even begin to flee back to his brothers with a firm hand on your hip.

Stubbornly refusing to talk to him, you avert your eyes and focus on a point just beyond Lucifer’s head.

“MC.” He scolds yet again. “We can stay here all day, little star.”

When you still do not relent, Lucifer moves his head into your line of sight.

“Your brothers are a bit faster than me, and I tripped over myself while keeping up to them. No big deal, Lucifer. Leave this alone.” Though you know saying such is futile, you cannot stop the words.

“Why wouldn’t you say something?” His eyes narrow. “I’ll need to have a talk with them. Don’t let this happen again.”

You let it happen again.

Well, almost.

Just before you go falling down into the harsh Devildom concrete a pair of hands wrap around your waist and settle your still dangling body into their hip bones. You look up and see Lucifer staring down at you, a single brow raised.

Your face heats, but neither of you say anything, and Lucifer’s stride doesn’t falter as he follows along his brothers.

[section-chief-prentiss]

girls

Summary: After an UnSub threatens to out you, you come out to Emily. 

Word Count: 2269

TWs: threats of being outed, coming out

Ao3

This whole case had you on edge.

It was a local case, and normally, that fact brought you comfort. Sleeping in your own bed after a long day was exactly what you needed. 

You got home late and beelined for your bed. If you were lucky, you could squeeze in a few hours before you needed to be back at the BAU in the morning. 

You started stripping as soon as your door was closed and locked behind you, shedding clothes on your way to your room. You threw on the first oversized t-shirt your hands touched and rolled into bed, your mattress welcoming you into its warm embrace. 

You plugged your phone into the charger on your nightstand and set your alarm, cringing at how soon you would need to be awake. But before you could lock your phone, a text rolled in from an Unknown Number. 

Stop investigating or I’ll tell your team you’re gay. 

Your blood froze in your veins. The UnSub your team was chasing was technologically savvy and had proven he wasn’t afraid to use it. Through various social media accounts and other media leaks, he’d flaunted the victims he’d kidnapped and killed, and so far, Penelope had been unable to track him. 

You debated the odds of this being a random spam text when another appeared.

If you arrest me I have a failsafe that will alert them right away. 

You knew better than to respond, but you knew you couldn’t block him until Penelope took a look at the message.

The thought stopped you in your tracks—if you showed Penelope these messages, the team would find out anyway. 

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your sexuality; your family knew—you came out to them when you were 12. Your mom and your brother were your biggest cheerleaders, and while it took your dad a little longer to come around, he was firmly in your corner now as well. Your friends were no different. 

But work was another story. You loved your BAU family and trusted them with your life, but you’d only been with the team for a year. And you weren’t in a relationship at the moment, so your dating life just… hadn’t come up. You’d always known you’d tell them eventually, but you wanted it to be on your terms. 

Despite the threat, you had no intention of stopping investigating or encouraging your team to do the same. 

But the nagging voice at the back of your head that it could all come crashing down at any moment left you with a lingering feeling of dread that kept you awake, tossing and turning until your alarm went off just before sunrise.

You stumbled through your morning routine like a zombie, moving aimlessly from room to room. You made coffee on autopilot, dressed in a daze, and didn’t realize you had two different shoes on until you were one step out the door. You swapped one out for a matching set, grabbed your bag, and headed to the BAU.

You wished you could shake it off. Pretend it didn’t bother you. But as you took your seat at the round table, you knew the carefully crafted facade you’d put up was already chipping away, and it was only a matter of time before your team saw through it. 

“You look like hell,” Rossi said, taking the seat next to you. “Did you sleep at all?” 

“Not really,” you hedged, taking another swig of your coffee. 

Tara and Luke filed in next, and you absentmindedly exchanged morning pleasantries with them, glancing at your watch and wondering what was taking the rest of the team so long.

Emily, JJ, Reid, and Penelope buzzed into the room together, and the energy they brought with them made you sit up a little straighter.

“Our UnSub has made his next move,” Emily announced. She stood at the front of the room, pulling something up on the screen behind her, while the rest of the team took their seats. 

Screenshots of texts filled the TV, and a hush fell over the room as everyone took them in. 

Stop investigating or I’ll tell the press about your addiction, one read.

Stop investigating or I’ll tell the media about your pathetic sister, read another.

With a click of the remote, two more messages appeared, with familiar text that sent a shiver down your spine.

If you arrest me I have a failsafe that will alert them right away. 

You glanced at the timestamps of the messages, fighting to keep your expression neutral. You’d stared at the messages you received long enough to know they came at 2:41 AM. These messages had been sent just a few minutes before.

“JJ and Reid received these texts last night; we assume they’re from our UnSub,” Emily announced. “Before we start today, I need to ask if anyone else received a message last night. You don’t have to reveal what it said; JJ and Reid gave me permission to share theirs, but I need to know if he’s targeting anyone else.”

The team glanced around the table at each other, shaking their heads. When Emily’s eyes met yours, you found yourself shaking yours as well before you could think about it. 

“These threats say more about the UnSub than about us,” JJ said. “He thinks these are threats, but they just prove we’re human. It wouldn’t change how people perceive us, and even if it did, I wouldn’t care.” 

You’d turned to Reid, skeptical. “Is that how you feel?”

To your surprise, he only shrugged. “I’m proud of my sobriety. Last year alone, 17.82% of Americans had a substance use disorder. It’s more prevalent than anyone wants to believe.”

Your heart swelled at their bravery. But the text message you’d received still hung over your head.

“Penelope is working with JJ and Reid’s phones to see if she can trace the messages back. If anyone else receives anything, please let me know right away. In the meantime, Luke and Rossi are going to head down to Metro P.D. to interview more of the victims’ families,” Emily said. “Tara and Y/N, the M.E. is expecting you; she has the latest autopsy results. JJ and Reid are going to stay here with me, and we’re going to work on the profile.”

The team dispersed, but you felt glued to your chair. 

“Are you okay?” Tara whispered.

You nodded. “I just need a minute. I’ll meet you in the bullpen?” 

Tara put a hand on your shoulder before doing just that. 

When your legs stopped shaking, you stood and glanced through the windows at the rest of your team. Emily made eye contact with you through the glass, and you tilted your head toward her office. The raven-haired woman nodded, and you both wordlessly made your way over.

You beat her to it and started pacing across the carpeted floor. You kept your hands clasped so Emily wouldn’t see they were shaking. 

The Unit Chief closed her office door behind her. 

“Is everything okay?” she asked, sitting on the edge of her desk. 

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You closed it again, mind reeling. 

Were you really about to do this? This hadn’t been your plan when you walked into work this morning, but you knew it was the right thing. 

Despite that, your heart raced in your chest. Stars danced across your vision, and your breathing became shallow. 

This wasn’t fair. You cracked your knuckles, a nervous habit, but your hands shook as you did so. 

Tears threatened to spill over, so you turned away from your friend, sitting on the small couch on the opposite side of the room. You pressed your palms against your eyes, willing the emotion to go away. 

“Not now,” you whispered. “Please not now.” 

The couch shifted as Emily took a seat next to you. She placed a gentle hand on your back.

“Take your time,” she murmured.

You pulled your hands away from your eyes and clasped them in your lap. 

“I got a text from the UnSub last night too,” you said, voice raspy. 

Emily moved her hand from your back to resting on your knee. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.” 

You nodded. You knew you could trust Emily—trust your whole team. None of them would judge you or think lesser of you, of that you were sure. But your heart still felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. 

“He threatened to out me to all of you. And said that if we apprehended him, he had a failsafe in place to make sure everyone found out.” 

Emily’s face crumpled. “Y/N…”

“It’s not that I’m ashamed of who I am,” you whispered. “I’m not. My family knows, my friends know… It’s just that it’s private. I wanted to tell you all on my terms, when I felt ready. And he took that choice away from me.” 

Emily took your trembling hands in hers, and tears welled in your eyes. 

“I love you, Y/N,” Emily said with a sincerity that stilled you. “We all do. You are our family, and I can say with full confidence that this doesn’t change how we feel about you.”

You took a deep breath. “I knew it wouldn’t. I just wanted to control how I told at least one person. How I told you.” 

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Emily said. “I can’t tell you how honored I am.” 

“I know we have to tell Penelope,” you said. “So she can try to trace it.” 

Emily shook her head. “We can wait. See if she can get anything from JJ and Reid’s phones; we may not need yours.” 

You grimaced. You didn’t want to hinder the investigation or ask Emily to do the same by keeping this to yourselves. 

“That means a lot to me,” you said earnestly. “But I can’t ask you to do that.” 

“You’re not asking; I’m offering.” Emily’s dark eyes pierced yours. “Just tell me what you want to do.”

“Will you come with me to talk to Penelope? I’d feel better having you there.” 

“Whatever you need,” she assured you. “Is it okay if I give you a hug?” 

You nodded, and it wasn’t until Emily’s arms were around you that you realized how badly you needed some comfort. You sank into her embrace, resting your chin on her shoulder, letting your friend hold you.

She rubbed one hand in circles on your back, and you closed your eyes, the exhaustion of the case catching up with you. You could fall asleep right now. Now that you were safe. 

But there was still work to do, so you pulled away, your cheeks flushed. 

“Thank you,” you said.

You wiped your tears away, suddenly self-conscious when you remembered the rest of your team was just outside. 

As if anticipating your hesitation, Emily asked, “Would it be easier if I brought her in here?”

It was tempting, but you didn’t want to call more attention to yourself.

“No, that’s okay,” you said. “Let’s go to her office.”

Emily didn’t stand until you did, but once you did, she was ready to hold her office door open for you. 

As you walked through the bullpen, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at your teammates. You heard them murmuring—working on the profile, you told yourself—but you held your breath until you were out of sight and knocking on Pen’s door.

“Enter!” She chirped from the other side.

You scanned your badge and the door clicked open, revealing Penelope in front of her wall of monitors—the text messages up on one, another busy tracking the source. 

“Do you have a minute, Pen?” Emily asked.

Penelope whirled around in her chair. “Anything for you, Peaches.” Her eyes widened when she saw you standing beside Emily. “And Y/N! To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I got a text from the UnSub,” you said, your phone in hand. 

“Have you gotten anything from JJ’s or Reid’s yet?” Emily asked.

Penelope frowned and shook her head. “Not yet; the UnSub is flexing his tech knowledge, but I am better, and I will find him.”

You smiled at your friend’s easy confidence. 

“Can I see?” she asked.

You nodded, wordlessly unlocking the device and handing it over.

You watched as Pen scanned the message. Watched as her mouth opened in shock. When her eyes reconnected with yours, there was fury behind them. 

“I will bury him,” she growled. “How dare he—”

Emily held up a hand. “Needless to say, discretion is important here.” 

Penelope’s eyes widened. “Oh, Y/N, I know I’m not known for secret-keeping, but I would never…” she shook her head. “I’ll never tell a soul.” 

Your heart swelled. “Thank you, Pen. I will tell the team, I’d just prefer to do it on my terms.” 

“Of course,” Penelope said.

“I can take your place with Tara,” Emily offered. “If you want to stay here and work on the profile with Reid and JJ.” 

You shook your head. “That’s not necessary. But thank you.” You looked between Emily and Pen. “Thank you both.” 

“Let’s go make this son of a bitch pay.”

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