#I’m not supposed to feel feelings like this

[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[euthymiya]

[ ASKING PRICE — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: kinich isn’t so happy that you spend time with ajaw. you’re more than willing to pay the price to make up for it

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; slightly jealous kinich (of ajaw getting more attention) ; ajaw cameo! ; lots of kisses ;) (kinich not ajaw)

You laugh, and Kinich’s vein all but pops.

Normally, he’s agitated by Ajaw on most hours of most days. That much is a well known fact. But not today, though—because today, he’s absolutely infuriated. (And no, this is not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis. This anger is very much here to stay and not go anywhere.)

You’re here to complete a commission with him, not spend your time giggling with a certain saurian. And your kindness is very much wasted going towards someone as pompous as Ajaw—still, there’s a part of him that admires it. Only you could manage to be kind to someone as difficult to get along with.

What he doesn’t admire, however, is that you happen to be the one person Ajaw also doesn’t mind being kind to. (Well, as kind as someone like Ajaw can get, that is.)

“—and when the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw summons the howling winds, and sets the whole world ablaze, you can be the only survivor!”

It’s a grating voice, Kinich thinks distantly, rolling his eyes at the way you chuckle and give a grateful nod, entertaining the pure nonsense of a fool. Ajaw has approximately the same brain power as a dead saurian. That’s to say: none. How you manage to laugh at jokes made by such a simpleton is beyond the comprehension of someone like Kinich—but he supposes you’ve always been kind to a fault. A pity laugh certainly isn’t something you’re above, he supposes.

“Will I have the luxury of ruling by your side as your trusty sidekick?” You play along. It seems to please the dragon, earning a haughty laugh.

“I suppose you can have a small corner to call yours,” he agrees, “just make sure you push that slimy, slithering, miserly worm off a cliff and I’ll allow it.”

You glance over at Kinich as soon as the words are uttered by the obnoxious loud mouth beside you, and he can feel the last of his veins snap—that is, until you smile, giving him a playful wink.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you giggle.

“See?” Ajaw turns to look at him, making Kinich’s eye twitch ever so slightly. “You should be more like this one! The Almighty Dragonlord—h-huh? Hey!”

“Kinich!” You scold, watching as Ajaw cuts himself off with a scream, flying off into the distance from one irritated flick of Kinich’s fingers.

“What?” He huffs, crossing his arms as you throw your head back and laugh.

“You’re cute, you know. When you get like that.”

“Like what?” It comes out as a grumble. A rather petulant one, at that—he almost cringes hearing it in his own tone.

He knows what you mean, too. You know he does, so you reach over to ruffle his hair as his lips curl into a deeper frown. It’s not lost on you, however, that he almost seems to lean into your touch, almost seems to savor the feeling of your palm against his head.

“It’s cute when you’re jealous,” you tease. “Adorable, you know? Seeing you sulk is a bit rare.”

“I was not sulking,” he protests. That, of course, pulls a laugh out of you that makes him sulk even harder. “And I’m not jealous. Being jealous of Ajaw is absurd.”

“Oh but I think you were,” you nudge his shoulder, lips stretching into a knowing grin as he grunts. “Don’t worry, I’d never push you off a cliff.”

“That’s because you’d never manage to,” he shrugs. You give him a playful scowl as you huff, you don’t know that, under your breath. He fights back an amused smile, trying to keep his seriousness in tact. “Have you had enough fooling around? We have a commission to complete. You’re going to make me lose out on mora.”

“Is that so?” You say thoughtfully.

By now, Kinich knows that face. It’s not a very welcomed face, either—it means trouble for him. Some form of scheming on your end that almost always ends with you getting what you want, and almost always ends with him walking away as a loser of sorts. It’s his own fault, of course. Being powerless against your charms is a weakness he’s not entirely managed to overcome yet.

But he’s trying—and he’ll get it one day. He’s sure of it.

“I don’t like that face,” he says dryly, eyeing you cautiously.

“What face?” You gasp, mock innocence feigned even as the mischief creeps into your eyes. He can see it. Sense it. Feel it. Almost like he can tell a foe is coming even before they strike—it’s a practiced precision of sorts.

“That face you make when you’re up to something. I can tell you have something up your—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making him go silent almost instantly. A small part of him can feel his cheeks burn, but the bigger part of him melts before he can even comprehend it.

“What if I paid you a better price,” you murmur, “and commissioned some of your time?”

A hand trails up his chest, rubbing slowly against the expanse of it over his shirt, stopping just over his heart. Evil, he wants to tell you, how evil you are to rest your palm right over his erratic heart.

Like you sense the pounding beat, you grin sweetly.

“You’ll need a better price than that,” he mumbles quietly when he finally finds his voice, clearing his throat subtly.

“Haggling over prices with me?” You pout. “Not even I can get a discount.”

“Of course not,” he says stubbornly. A strong arm wraps around you, pulling you against his sturdy chest as you bite back a grin. “I only accept offers with appropriate prices.”

“Fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes in defeat, leaning in to press a firm peck to his lips. “Will that cover it?”

“Not quite,” his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer. So close, you think his lips could knock into yours from a gentle breeze alone.

But he’s still. Patient. Painfully observant as his eyes stare into you and wait for what he wants—and, well, Kinich always gets his asking price. One way or another, he never walks away short of a single mora.

Or kiss.

So you lean in, pressing your mouth to his as your hands cup his face, tracing the skin above his cheekbone delicately as he sighs softly. His eyes flutter closed, and briefly, he thinks how nice it is when it’s just you. And him. And no Ajaw.

He should keep it like that more often.

He needs it, you think. Needs to feel you up close and personal, needs to know you’re here and staying, needs to know you’re his and only his.

He lets out a soft sound of protest when you finally break away, earning a quiet chuckle from you before you plant a sweet kiss to his jaw.

“How was that?” You whisper, kissing along his jawline, earning a small shiver of approval from him. “Was that payment enough?”

“I suppose for now,” he mumbles.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” you tease, grinning against his skin.

But you know as well as he does, you’re than happy to afford his prices. And then some, too. You’re as generous about spending as he is enthusiastic with taking.

“Or maybe you’re just being stingy,” he shoots back. With a fond shake of your head, your lips are back on his, cradling his face as he leans into you until he can’t tell where you start and where he ends.

It’s hard not to give into your charms, but he’s not so sure it’s a losing battle. It feels suspiciously close to a win, in fact—that is, if Ajaw stays far, far away. (And again, it would be nice if it was not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis.)

He’s sooooo cute and his backstory literally haunts me I want to kiss him so bad you guys don’t get it. I was supposed to skip him but 173 wishes later I now have a c4 diluc and a c0r1 kinich 🥹

[yuoimia]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ HEY, HANDSOME

summary: you’re shameless with your antics, and he hates loves it. characters: kinich & wanderer notes: fem + flirty reader, relationship is not established, but you’ve known each other for a while, wanderer’s is super short and messy bc i didn’t know how to execute my ideas well, wc: 580

kinich

“Are you free next week?”

Kinich glanced up from the base of the tree to where you sat casually on one of the thick branches. Sunlight streamed through its delicate leaves, spilling onto your hair, casting a familiar shadow he breathed in the first time you two met.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing you with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“What does she mean!? Are you STUPID-“

A momentary flash of yellow and green materialised for a split second, not without the usual explosive expressions, before being promptly booted with the irritated flick of Kinich’s right hand.

“Stop smirking,” he sighed, not coming out nearly as stern as he intended. “Out with it, and come down; my neck is starting to hurt,” he continued, turning away, trying to seem as composed as possible. Not now; he cannot be succumbing to nerves and sweaty palms. Why was his mind so foggy? Absolutely no helpful excuses formulated in case he faltered any further.

You let out a disappointed huff. “Fine,” Kinich could almost sense the roll of your eyes from the back of his head. “Make sure to catch me.”

“Wait-“

It happened in a split second, his arms subconsciously reaching out as you slipped down with no hesitation.

Almost instantly, words of disapproval (which included his typical empty threats that he seemed to forget within the next ten minutes) bombarded your ears as one arm held you from the back of your knees, another supporting your back. “Imagine if I didn’t catch you…you need to think before you do things…”

“But you did either way,” you shrugged nonchalantly at his frustrated face, enveloping an arm around his neck to rest your chin on his shoulder. “So…you free next week?” you whispered conspicuously, adjusting yourself to face him properly. “I’m running out of ideas for commissions, you know?”

And you swear you’re hallucinating. You swear you might actually be delusional.

“What if I told you,” he mused at the intimacy of the shared closeness. “That you never needed the commissions for my attention in the first place?” he responded, holding back a smile.

wanderer

“You look terrible.”

The unexpectedly rash comment causes him to jolt his head upright, his eyes instantly meeting the owner of the familiar voice and malicious remark. A strange feeling washes over his body as he relaxes his posture almost completely, careful to avoid seeming too relieved.

“Likewise,” he countered, scanning you with a look of supposed disinterest. Except he wasn’t disinterested at all, thoroughly noting down your appearance and mannerisms. Loose ends of your braid had fallen out of their original position, a vibrant rosy blush below your cheekbones, likely from exhaustion the way your chest rose quicker than usual.

“…likewise?!” you gaped incredulously, seizing a mirror from a pocket of your jacket.

You’re the one that told me I looked terrible.”

“You know I didn’t mean that at all.”

“And you know that, too.”

“You’re supposed to say that you’re tired and hungry,” you muttered disappointingly, fixing your braid in the matter of a few quick movements.

Confusion flooded his mind at the sharp diversions in conversation topics. “Why would I need to say that?” he replied slowly, surveying your face with greater interest and intent, as if thinking that if he stared hard enough, the deepest secrets of your mind would be magically revealed.

A victorious smile and wink adorned your face as you extended a hand. “So I can offer you lunch, handsome.”

[moonstruckme]

CONGRATS ON 7K!!!! I've never seen a blog that deserves it so much!

for the bake sale- id love apple pie number 14 (laddered tights). I'm not sure if poly! marauders is an option- if not James would be great!

hope you have an amazing day ☀️

Poly!marauders is always an option ! Hope you have an amazing day too <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 418 words

You hear Sirius’ quiet hiss, followed by James’ “now you’ve done it” before you can even look down. 

You see the chipped polish of your boyfriend’s fingernail at the epicenter of a new tear in your tights. 

“Sirius,” you sigh. “Really?” 

“I’m sorry.” He presses his hand over the tear as though to stop it from spreading. “You said these were supposed to be un-rip-able!” 

“That doesn’t mean you’re supposed to try to rip them.” 

“I wasn’t!” Sirius pouts at you. “I wasn’t, baby, I was just…I was…” 

“He was feeling you up,” James supplies. 

“I was admiring how your tights look on your legs. Through a tactile lens.” 

“Can they be fixed?” Remus asks, leaning over to see. The four of you are squished into a corner booth at a cafe. You and James had a craving for hot chocolate when the weather turned earlier this week, and you’d brought out your new tights for the occasion. 

“No, there’s no fixing them,” you sulk, cutting Sirius a look. “You owe me a new pair.” 

He manages to look chastised. James brushes his hand aside, poking his own finger into the tear. Like he’s pulled a thread, it snakes up the rest of your thigh. 

“Shit!” He pulls back.  

“It’s okay,” you say, though you sound dejected enough that Remus coos and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “There’s really no way to keep it from getting worse.” 

“Oh, so when he does it it’s fine?” Sirius crosses his arms. “When did we get so blatant with our favoritism?”

“They’re already ruined,” you remind him. “Anything anyone does now is just speeding up the inevitable.” 

You take a long, slow sip of your tea while he sits with that, but when your boyfriend starts to look actually guilty you crack. 

“It’s really okay.” You offer him a smile.

“I’ll get you a new pair,” Sirius vows. 

“You don’t have to. I was only giving you a hard time.” 

He narrows his eyes at you playfully. “I know you were. But I want to anyway.” 

“You don’t have the backbone to be a very good tormenter, angel,” James teases you. Remus hums his agreement. “You give in too easily.” 

You scoff. “Like you can talk.” 

“Seal the deal with a kiss?” Sirius simpers at you. 

You roll your eyes. “Fine.” 

You lean towards him, but neither of your other boyfriends seems at all surprised when Sirius leans down to kiss your laddered tights instead. 

[pantherxrogers]

earned it - yunho x fem!reader (smut 18+)

pairing: soft dom!Yunho x sub!reader

warnings: porn w/o plot, smut 18+ only, spanking, dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamics, ass play, explicit language, fluffy aftercare, probably more that I missed :/

summary: yunho spanks you. that’s literally it lmao. 🤭

a/n: such beautiful, beautiful hands 🙂‍↕️

my masterlist

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision and turning your thoughts to mush. but, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

every time you squirm, your sensitive nipples sweep against yunho’s slacks. he’s fully clothed, while you’re naked and on your knees, bent over his lap. you feel his smooth hands run over your ass, toying with you.

“fuck, look at this ass,” he grunts, roughly groping the supple skin. he lands a few quick swats, watching the way your ass recoils from the contact.

“yuyu, it hurts,” you whine, yet you push your ass further against his hand. the chuckle he lets out makes you feel pathetic. but it also causes a fresh wave of arousal between your legs.

“i know, baby. it’s supposed to hurt,” he coos, using his other hand to squish your cheeks together. he nearly groans at your expression, the lust in your eyes is tangible.

he takes in the way mascara runs down your face, ruining the pretty makeup you applied just a few hours ago. he loves the glassy look in your eyes, peering up at him like he holds the moon and stars. he can see the pleading in your expression, and it only makes his pants tighter.

craning his neck down, he guides you into a sloppy kiss, wetting your full lips. he licks into your mouth, laying claim to it. your soft mewls egg him on, promoting him to spank you even harder than before. the way you whimper against his lips is everything, and he pulls back to see his handiwork.

“you are such a slut, aren’t you?”

all you can do is stare up at him, barely registering what he’s saying to you. you nod your head, agreeing to anything that comes from his lips. the need to please him is strong, lulling you into a state of complete submission.

“hmm, my baby is so obedient. maybe i should give you a reward.” the next thing you know, his finger prod at your entrance.

he’s gathering your wetness, taking his time rubbing between your folds. you can’t hold back your moans, wiggling as much as you can to guide him towards your clit. you can feel it throbbing, begging to be touched.

“p-please yuyu, i’ve been so go- shit!” you yelp, unable to focus on anything outside of the way his fingers stretch you out. he’s starting with two, using his thumb to massage your sensitive clit.

“a little spanking got you this wet? damn, you really are a whore,” he chuckles, speeding up the movement of his fingers. despite the harsh words, he uses his other hand to gently cup your chin. he’s looking into your eyes, almost like he’s hypnotized by your gaze.

“i’m always wet for you, yuyu,” you hum, biting your lip. you don’t miss the way his eyes drop down, hyper focused on your pout.

“such a good slut.” there’s pride in his voice, making your heart flutter. you love his praise, and it’s pushing you near the edge.

you involuntarily flutter around his fingers, making it harder for yunho to continue stretching you out. he continues rubbing your clit, maneuvering his other hand to pull back the hood even further.

“oooo, fuck. ‘m too sensitive, yuyu,” you whine, simultaneously bucking your hips into his assault on your clit.

“you’re okay, baby. you’re okay,” he soothes, drawing languid circles against your nub. he can feel the way you clench on his fingers, spasming at random moments. an idea strikes him, knowing exactly what to do to push you over the edge.

gathering spit in his mouth, he lets it drip down to your asshole. using his left hand to strum your clit, he uses his right to push a finger into your asshole. it’s tight and warm, and he doesn’t miss the way you wiggle back onto it.

your moans increase in volume, overwhelmed by the stimulation of your clit and tight hole. you see white, reaching your high and letting your moans echo throughout your bedroom. yunho’s actions continue throughout your orgasm, satisfying you until the very end.

he chuckles at the way you slump further into his thighs, completely spent. easing his fingers out of you, he repositions you to cradle in his arms.

his aftercare is top tier, whispering sweet nothings as you come back down to earth. his hands are gentle as they caress your body, making sure you feel safe and secure.

you sink further into his grasp, melting into the warmth of his embrace. you feel your eyelids growing heavy, unable to think about anything aside from laying here with your lover.

“hold on, honey. just need to get you to the bathroom,” he hums, standing up to carry you bridal style.

the rest of the night passes without much fanfare. yunho gently cleans you up, helping you get ready for bed. the two of you shower together, yunho doing most of the work. he loves moments like this, fully doting on you and making you feel grounded. it makes him feel grounded, too.

after the shower, he knows it’s time for you to get some rest. as he tucks you into bed, you immediately seek out his warmth, snuggling into his side. you let out a satisfied sigh, finally settled in for the night.

“thank you for taking care of me, yuyu,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. he gently cups your chin, planting a slow peck to your lips.

“anytime, my angel. thank you for trusting me,” he replies, wrapping his arms around your frame. before long he hears your breath slow and feels your body relax.

he glances down, smiling at your state of serenity. with a swell of pride in his chest, he relaxes against the mattress. shutting his eyes, he’s ready to dream of you. little does he know, you’re dreaming of him, too.

[theotherbuckley]

Tommy’s dad dies on a Monday.

He checks his emails on a Wednesday. There’s an email from his aunt. It’s only a few sentences. She was always very succinct and to the point.

His dad is dead.

It was a heart attack.

Bastard didn’t even suffer. 

He stares at his laptop screen until the words start to blur together. For an hour, he just sits there, looking at his computer but not really seeing anything at all. His coffee is long since cold. He never even took a sip. 

His mind feels empty, like there’s this fog that’s settled inside, clouding over his thoughts. He’s stuck. His brain doesn’t know how to process this, and neither does his body.

So he stays frozen. Just staring.

He doesn’t notice the time until he feels large arms wrap around him from behind.

“Tommy?” Evan asks. It doesn’t sound like the first time he’s spoken.

“I—“ The words are stuck in his throat. 

Tommy turns around from his chair, blinking a few times, until he manages to say, “My dad died.”

“Are you okay?”

That’s all it takes for Tommy to break.

He opens his mouth, closes. Shakes his head. 

And he just—

Cries.

Full body-wracking sobs overcome his body as he slumps into Evan’s open arms. He shakes, tears streaming down his cheeks as he burrows his face into his boyfriend’s neck. He’s getting snot and tears all over Evan’s shirt but his boyfriend doesn’t complain, just squeezes him tighter as he continues to be overwhelmed by his emotions.

He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. He just can’t seem to stop. 

He cries and trembles in Evan’s arms until he’s run out of tears left to shed. Evan murmurs sweet nothings into his ear, holding him tight and never letting go. 

“I’ve got you. I'm here,” Evan whispers in his ear. 

He feels like he’s run a marathon by the time he’s calmed down enough to pull back from Evan. His hands shake as he wipes the tears from his eyes, Evan’s own warm hands coming to hold his. 

“I don’t— I don’t even know why I’m cry—crying,” Tommy hiccups. He’s sure he must look a mess, red-faced and covered in tears.

Evan gives me a soft look, a small comforting smile on his face as he presses a kiss to Tommy’s forehead.

“You lost your dad. You’re allowed to cry,” Evan says kindly.

Tommy just shakes his head. “But he wasn’t— he wasn’t good.” He has an awful, vile human who never gave two shits about him. Only cared about him being a man, enlisting, stepping up. He doesn't understand why his chest still aches like his loss matters. It doesn't. It doesn't.

Evan wraps his arms around Tommy. He’s practically sitting on him, but Tommy doesn’t mind. Not when it’s Evan.

“He— He was a big part of your life, Tommy,” Evan says, running his fingers through Tommy’s hair. “And now he’s not. You’re allowed to be upset.”

Tommy just nods, collapsing back into Evan, who rubs gentle circles on his back in comfort, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He lets his boyfriend soothe his pain with his touch. He wishes it didn't hurt in the first place. Still doesn't understand why it does. He hated that piece of shit.

He's glad he's dead.

He hiccups as another tear makes it's way down his cheek. Evan squeezes tighter.

“Is there a funeral?” Evan asks softly.

Tommy almost laughs. “There’s no one who cares enough to give him one. He doesn’t even deserve one.”

“But you do,” Evan says sincerely.

That gets Tommy to look up, eyebrows raised in question.

“You deserve to have the closure,” Evan continues. “It’s a lot better than trying to pretend you’re alright when you're not. Trust me.”

“You lost someone?” Tommy asks. Evan’s never talked about it, but maybe—

“No, no. I just know what it feels like to— to bottle your emotions up when it comes to the people who are supposed to love you.”

“I’ll speak to my aunt about a funeral,” Tommy says. Evan gives him a soft smile and a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling him close again, Tommy wasting no time to burrow into the corner of Buck’s neck, soaking up the comfort of his boyfriend.

“I love you,” he murmurs into his shoulder.

“I love you,” Evan repeats back. 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟹𝚔 || 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐍

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: James becomes a worried mother hen when you faint in Herbology class.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: James Potter x reader

The hospital wing always smelled faintly of antiseptic potions and freshly laundered sheets. You were lying in one of the many crisp, white beds, a blanket pulled up to your chin. A stubborn cough rattled your chest, but you felt far better than when you first arrived. Madam Pomfrey had been quick with a cure, leaving you with a potion for congestion and strict instructions to rest.

James Potter, however, had other plans.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” James tutted, bustling around like a worried mother hen. He had already fluffed your pillows twice in the last fifteen minutes, and now he was pouring you another glass of water, insisting that you sip it slowly.

"James, seriously," you croaked, trying to wave him off, "I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey said the worst is over. I just need some sleep—"

"Sleep?!" he interrupted, turning to you with wide eyes as if you'd just suggested something utterly preposterous. "You can’t just sleep this off, love. You're sick! And you didn’t even tell me you were feeling bad until you practically passed out during Herbology!" He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re impossible.”

You groaned, sinking further into the pillows. “I’m not that sick, James. Honestly.”

But James ignored you entirely, moving on to smoothing out the blankets on the bed, adjusting them just so, then darting back to your side to press a hand to your forehead. He frowned in concern, despite the fact that your fever had already broken.

"Still too warm," he muttered to himself, then in a louder voice added, "Do you need another blanket? What about your potion? Have you taken your potion?"

"Yes!" you replied, exasperated, holding up the empty potion bottle as proof. "I've taken it. I’m fine, really.”

But James wasn’t having any of it. "You should have told me earlier," he scolded softly, eyes narrowing at you in a way that was more affectionate than anything else. "Running around the castle when you're sick, not taking care of yourself. What were you thinking?"

You rolled your eyes, a little grin tugging at your lips despite how tired you felt. “I didn’t want to make a fuss,” you mumbled.

“Well, too bad!” James retorted, crossing his arms over his chest in a very Sirius-like manner, though the anxious gleam in his eyes was entirely his own. “I’m going to fuss whether you like it or not.”

Before you could protest, he was off again, striding toward the door of the hospital wing. “I’ll be back. I’m going to get more of that potion from Madam Pomfrey.”

“James—!” You tried to sit up, but your aching body protested. “She already said you have to leave! She’s going to hex you if you keep pestering her for more potions!”

He shot you a wink over his shoulder. “Let her try.”

True to his word, James disappeared through the door, only to return minutes later with another small vial of potion in his hand. He looked smug, though his hair was even more disheveled than before, a clear sign that Madam Pomfrey had tried to shoo him away more than once.

“She said you have to drink this,” he declared, holding the potion out to you with a flourish. “And then, you rest. Properly.”

“I don’t need it—”

“Drink.”

You sighed but took the vial from his hand, knowing there was no winning when James was like this. You uncorked the potion and took a sip, wrinkling your nose at the taste. James was watching you closely, arms still crossed, but the tenderness in his gaze was undeniable.

Once you’d finished, he set the empty vial aside and sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in to smooth your hair away from your face. “You scared me,” he admitted softly, his earlier bravado slipping away for a moment. “Seeing you like that in class, all pale and weak… I hate it when you’re not feeling well.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “I’m alright now, James. Really. You don’t have to worry so much.”

“Too late,” he said with a crooked smile. “I’m going to worry about you forever, I think. So, you better get used to it.”

You chuckled lightly, though it quickly turned into another coughing fit. James immediately leapt into action, patting your back gently and handing you the glass of water.

“See?” he said, a little too smug for your liking. “This is why I’m fussing.”

You shot him a playful glare, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. As much as you protested, having James dote on you like this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You leaned back into the pillows once more, exhaustion pulling at your limbs.

James, sensing that you were finally settling, sat down beside you again. This time, he didn’t scold you or rush around. Instead, he took your hand in his, thumb rubbing soft circles over your skin.

“Get some rest,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll be right here.”

And despite your earlier protests, you felt your eyes fluttering shut, comforted by the warmth of James beside you. Maybe, just maybe, letting him fuss over you wasn’t so bad after all.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

You're just like them | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

pairings: leah williamson x reader!monkey x reader!buddy x jordan nobbs

summary: monkey is unhappy to spend the night round jordan's for the first time since the transfer to aston villa and she makes her feelings known

double the trouble masterlist

also thank you to @alotofpockets for help with pics for the header + little ideas to add in along the way

“No,” The words out of your mouth were sharp, you folded your arms across your chest and shook your head stubbornly. You were known to be stubborn at times and today was certainly no different.

“It won’t be that bad,” Leah tried again, her tone being gentle but firm, “And you won’t be on your own, Buddy will be there with you as well.” She pointed out, motioning to your favourite little buddy that is bouncing around happily, blissfully unaware of the tension in the room.

“We’re goin’ to Mama’s house!” Buddy chimed in cheerfully, “Monkey ‘ou can see Blu too!” She’s far more excited about this decision than you are, but then again you suppose she’s used to being there more frequently than you, in fact you’ve not actually been to Jordan’s new place so you have no clue what it’s even like, “I show ‘ou all of my toys!”

“See? Buddy’s excited,” Leah said, motioning to your favourite little buddy with a hopeful smile, “It’ll be fun to be there together!”

“Nope, nuh uh!” You insisted, shaking your head harder, “I don’t wanna go there!”

Leah pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a deep sigh, “Monkey, please. I know you don’t want to go, but I would feel more reassured to know you were there–”

“I don’t get why I can’t just come? I’m almost 18!” You interjected, throwing your hands up in the air, “It’s only another month away, it won’t matter!”

“The keyword is that being almost there, Menace,” Leah chuckled, shaking her head in amusement, “Maybe next year my girl, eh?” She joked, ruffling your hair.

“Get off,” You grumbled and tried to dodge her hand from touching your hair still, “I don’t want to go there!”

Tonight was Leah’s birthday party since she couldn’t celebrate much when it was her actual birthday, so the celebrations were delayed until tonight at least.

You were gutted you weren’t allowed to go, sometimes it sucked to not be an adult yet.

Despite your determination to try and change Leah’s mind, she wasn’t overly thrilled with the idea of you coming into a club while being under the age limit and therefor, had the brilliant idea to all but ship you and Buddy off to Jordan’s much to your absolute detest about it 

Hence the whole argument at that current moment that you’re having with her after she’s just dropped the bombshell on you about going there.

“I know you’re not happy about this my girl but it’s just for tonight,” Leah began to speak, “And yes I’m aware you’re almost 18 now but I’m sorry, you’re not staying in the house alone, I don’t know what time I’ll be back and I would feel a lot more comfortable if you were somewhere that I knew you were safe, okay?” She told you firmly, but there’s a hint of a smile on her lips.

“But why do I have to go there though?” You huffed and stomped around in strong disagreement, you definitely weren’t going to agree to going there against your own will, “I’m not going and you can’t make me!”

“Monkey, come on. Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Leah exhaled a sigh and rested her hands on her hips, “Jordan’s really looking forward to spending time with you both as well.”

“I don’t care, I’m not going! Why can’t I just go to Kim’s house? Or even Wally’s?” You demanded, scrunching your face up in confusion, “Or there’s even Beth and Viv’s as well!”

“Because they will all be coming to the party tonight,” Leah explained patiently, her tone calm despite your attitude overall as she continued to fold a set of Buddy’s clothes and put them in her overnight bag fresh out of the washing basket, “Jordan’s really looking forward to spending time with you and Buddy. It’s been a while since you’ve properly seen her.”

A groan escaped your lips, your frustration bubbling over, “Yeah and there’s been a reason for that,” You murmured, hopping up onto the counter definitely.

“Oi, off there,” Leah swatted at your knee, just like she always does but now you just do it to purposely wind her up, “Will you please just give her a chance?”

Rolling your eyes, you hopped off the kitchen counter, “I don’t want to go, Le,” You mumbled, still standing firm in your protest as you lean up against it and cross your arms.

Leah exhaled a sigh, biting her lip, “Look, I know you’re not thrilled about it, but it’s only for one night–”

 “One night?” You repeated, your eyes widening, “One night? Nah, there’s no fuckin’ way I’m going there and staying overnight! No! You can fuck off if you think I’m doin’ that, Leah!” You hadn’t meant to swear, but you couldn’t help your initial reaction at that very moment, “I thought that I would at least be able to come home tonight after you’re back!”

You especially hadn’t meant to do it in front of Buddy and her little ears.

Buddy gasped, her little eyes wide as saucers, “Monkey, ‘ou said bad words!”

“Tattletale,” You murmured, rolling your eyes.

“Excuse me?” Leah’s eyes narrowed, flashing with anger suddenly. You guess you did just swear at her, what other type of reaction did you expect?

“You’re excused,” You replied, a cocky smile plastered over your face, “I’m not goin’ there!”

“Yes you are,” Leah snapped, her patience now wearing thin, “I get that you’re annoyed and upset about this, but I am definitely not going to stand here and allow you to swear at me like that and think you can get away with it. You don’t have a choice in this, you’re the child and I’m the adult and what I say goes, understood?”

“Urgh, whatever. It wasn’t even directed at you!” You grumbled, completely lying through your teeth but you didn’t want to make the situation worse for yourself, the blonde looked pissed as it was already, “I’m not goin’ there and you can’t make me!”

Leah’s jaw tightened, you can see a flicker of hurt flash across her face, but it’s quickly replaced by the stern expression she usually reserves for you when you’ve pushed things too far, “Monkey,” She said, her voice low and controlled, “You’re going to Jordan’s and that’s final. End of discussion.”

“No I’m not!” You shouted, frustration boiling over, “I don’t even care what you say, she abandoned us– she abandoned me! I’m not goin’ there and you can’t make me!”

The words hung heavy in the air, and for a second, there was silence. Even Buddy seemed to sense the shift in the room, her little face wrinkling with confusion.

“Hey, bubba,” Leah turned her full attention to the little one in the room, very much aware this is a sensitive topic to be discussed around her, “Why don’t you go and choose what toys that you want to take to Mama's house when we go there, huh?” She suggested.

“Yeah!” Buddy’s shout was electrifying, not wasting the time to toddle into the living room and seek out the toys that she wants to bring with her for the unexpected sleepover at Jordan’s house.

Leah took a deep breath, trying to steady herself and you can see the conflict in her eyes, the way she’s fighting between anger and empathy, “Monkey, it wasn’t like that,” She finally said, softer now, “Jord didn’t abandon you. You know she didn’t leave you because she wanted to hurt you, she had to make a choice based on her career and sure, it was a difficult one, but it was something that she needed to do but it wasn’t about her not caring, my girl.”

“But she left us… She left without even thinking twice about it!” You snapped back, your voice trembling with emotion you hadn’t expected to feel, “I asked her to not go and she still did!”

All throughout your life, you have had endless people walking in and out of it.

Your mum abandoned you when you were little and your dad couldn’t wait to wash his hands off you the minute that he could. The 2 most important people in your life just decided to up and leave you, just like that.

It’s one of the many reasons why you keep your walls built up so high because then at least nobody can knock them down and hurt you again, right?

You learned to trust people more when you signed for Arsenal and moved in with Leah and Jordan at the start, you opened up to people who you thought would never leave you, all of them stayed apart from one.

Jordan.

It hurt more than it should’ve done, it just really stung.

The separation between Leah and Jordan was a completely mutual decision between the two of them and you could understand that, in fact even when Jordan moved into a place in London, you would still go there and visit, even spend a few nights there with herself and Buddy when you could.

However, things turned sour when you learnt of the woman’s plans to transfer to Aston Villa in the Winter transfer and from there, you found yourself pushing her away.

If you pushed her away then it would save you from getting hurt too much when you eventually didn’t see her, right?

Wrong.

The day of the move, you found yourself crying and begging her to stay, but she never did.

She left you, she left you and Buddy, and even Leah to some extent.

You couldn’t help but resent her for that now if you’re being honest.

Leah sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over her face as if trying to rub away the tension, “I know it feels like that, my girl,” She said softly, “I know it hurts and I wish I could do anything to make it better, but sometimes people have to make choices that don’t always make sense to us. It doesn’t mean that Jord doesn’t care though, you know she loves both you and Buddy, so much!”

“Well it doesn’t feel like she cares nor can she love us that much if she just chooses to willingly go,” You murmured, shoving your hands in the pockets of your shorts.

“No matter what you think, you know deep down that Jordan does care about you, a whole damn lot,” Leah explained to you gently, her eyes softened ever so slightly, “She didn’t want to go, it was just… look, sometimes life just doesn’t give us the easy option.” 

You continued to scowl, stubbornness etched into your every feature, “Yeah if she really did care then she would’ve stayed, regardless of that and whatever.” You can’t say you’re in the mood to listen, to rationalise, or to forgive. As far as you’re concerned, Jordan chose her career over you, she abandoned you and there’s no good enough excuse for that.

“Look, my girl, I know this isn’t something that you want to do and I know you’re still upset with her about things,” Leah knew this isn’t something that’s going to be fixed with words, but she has to try at least, “I’m not saying you have to forgive her today, or tomorrow, or anytime soon, but I do need you to go there, and just… just give it a chance, please?”

“I… I don’t want to go,” You murmured quietly, shaking your head in defiance. The mere thought of it filled you with resentment.

The blonde exhaled a sigh and ran her hand through her hair, “Please? Just do it for me,” She pauses, “Jord really is looking forward to spending some time with you.” She added.

You let out a derisive scoff, the bitterness evident in your voice, “The feelings’ not mutual there,” You retorted, refusing to meet Leah’s gaze, “Please don’t make me go, Le.”

Leah’s eyes softened with a mix of pleading and resolve, “Do it for Buddy, if not for me.”

The mention of Buddy stung, she didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of this but of course Leah knows that you would do absolutely anything for your favourite little buddy.

“Fine,” You snapped, pushing yourself off the counter with a huff, “I’ll go there, but don’t expect me to be happy there!”

Leah nodded, relief evident in her eyes despite the tension, “That’s all I’m asking for, my girl,” She said softly, “Just a chance.”

The initial drive to Jordan’s place was mostly filled with a tense silence, apart from Buddy’s cheerful singing from her car seat to none other than the soundtrack of North London Forever that she surprisingly asked for herself and of course Leah was quick to agree to the request. 

You keep your gaze stubbornly fixed out of the window, refusing to look at Leah or engage in any conversation and the blonde, thankfully senses your mood and doesn’t push further, already exhausted from trying to reason with you.

“Alright then, we’re here,” Leah announced, trying to keep the mood cheerful as she glanced between you in the passenger seat and the rear view mirror to see Buddy vibrating with excitement in her car seat.

“Fantastic,” You murmured, your stomach tightening in resentment as you stared out the window, not wanting to move out of your seat.

“Mama!” Buddy squealed from the back of the car, all but trying to unbuckle her own car seat much to her disappointment of not being able to, “Mummy, wan’ out!” She whined in frustration.

“Hold on a second bubba,” Leah chuckled at your favourite little buddy’s general lack of patience, “Mummy will help you to get out in a minute.” She added.

“Do I really have to be here?” You asked, frowning as you looked at Leah for a response, which you definitely already knew the answer to.

“You already know my answer to that,” Leah retorted, exhaling a sigh as she turned the car ignition off before unbuckling her seatbelt, “It’s just one night.” She reminded you.

“Worth a shot I guess,” You huffed in response and slowly moved to unbuckle your own seatbelt.

“It won’t be that bad,” Leah attempted to reassure you, giving you a soft smile before she opened her car door and climbed out of it to walk round to the side Buddy is to set her free from her car seat, “Right then, my little bubba. Are you ready to go and see your Mama?”

“I see Mama!” Buddy shouted excitedly as Leah unbuckled her and lifted her up to place her on the ground, “Mama! Mama!” She continued to squeal in delight.

“Yeah, we’re gonna go and find Mama,” Leah smiled genuinely at her 2 year old’s excitement as she held her in her arms as she turned back to look to where you’re still sat in the car, “You’re going to have to get out sooner rather than later, you know?” She told you, amusedly.

“I choose later,” You murmured, barely louder than a whisper, reluctant to climb out of the car any time soon, “Better yet, I’ll just stay in here and come back home with you.”

Leah exhaled a sigh and opened the car door, “Get out of the car, Menace,” She paused as she adjusted Buddy to sit on her hip, “Come on, just give it a chance, please?” She asked.

“Don’t have a choice,” You grumbled under your breath as you slowly climbed out of the car and stood there with your hands shoved in your pocket while you looked further unimpressed, “Are you sure I can’t come tonight? Nobody would even notice I was there, it’ll be fine!”

“No,” Leah kept a firm face as she slammed the car door shut behind you, locking her BMW before starting to walk up the steps of Jordan’s house, who had already clocked the car and came to answer the front door, “Bubba, look it is!”

“Mama! Mama!” Buddy immediately leaned towards Jordan the minute that she clocked her and you couldn’t help but dawdle behind with a scowl etched on your face.

“Hi, Buddy!” Jordan exclaimed, reaching out to scoop Buddy into her own arms as she hugged her gently, “I’ve missed you so so much!”

“Mama you’re silly, you saw me yesterday!” Buddy’s giggles were infectious as she reminded Jordan that she did indeed see her yesterday, having it be your favourite little buddy’s birthday yesterday when she finally turned 2 years old.

“Oh of course I did but I miss you all the time,” Jordan retorted playfully as she tickled Buddy under her armpits which caused the 2 year old to laugh even more, “Or is that not allowed now?”

“Where Blu?” The 2 year old asked eager to see the little four legged dachshund and you must admit that you’ve been excited to see him if anything else.

“He’s inside the house and he’s so excited to see you both,” Jordan told the toddler, placing her down on the ground before she toddles inside the house, “Hiya, little one!”

“Don’t call me that,” You said like the words are venomous to you in that moment.

“Oh, sorry,” Jordan was immediately apologetic as she shared a concerned look with Leah, “It’s so great to have you both here, I, er, I didn’t think you would come.” She admitted, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly.

“Yeah well I didn’t want to be here, but well, I wasn’t given much choice about it regardless,” You grumbled the truth and continued with your carefree attitude you have going on.

“Monkey, don’t be rude,” Leah chided you for your lack of manners, giving you a pointed look.

“What? I’m just being truthful!” You mumbled, shrugging your shoulders carelessly, “I told you I would come but I didn’t say I’d be nice about things.” You added, honestly.

Leah pursed her lips and narrowed her eyebrow, “Hey, come on. We talked about this.”

“Be grateful I’m even here,” You murmured in response, choosing to have more interest with your phone in your hand than to look between the two old, “Cos’ I really don’t wanna be.”

“Enough of this,” Leah scolded you, “This is Jord’s home and you need to at least be respectful of that, regardless whether you want to be here or not, okay? I don’t want to hear about you being rude this time that you’re here!”

“Ugh, whatever,” You brushed past the older women inside the house with your hood up and slumped down on the sofa.

“Look Monkey it’ Blu!” Buddy motioned to the small dachshund puppy that you hadn’t seen in a good while and you did have to admit that you missed him an awful lot.

“Hi boy! Hi!” You crouched down and gave the puppy some fuss, “Oh, I have missed you!”

“I’m sorry about her,” Leah apologised for your rude behaviour, “She’s just… well she’s a teenager for a start and she’s still not exactly handling it well that you’re not just five minutes down the road now.”

“That’s okay, I know what she’s like. Monkey’s stubborn and if she doesn’t want to do something then she won’t, will she?” Jordan retorted, exhaling a sigh, “She really didn’t want to come that bad, huh?”

The blonde bit her bottom lip and shook her head, “I’m sorry Jord, but I’m sure things will get better. You just have to give it time and be patient with her, even if it’s difficult.”

“Don’t be, it’s fine,” Jordan replied, smiling at her ex girlfriend, “I can understand if she’s still upset about me moving to Aston Villa, I guess it’s just a lot to handle for her, huh?”

Leah shared a weary smile with her ex girlfriend, “If it gets too much then let me know and I’ll have a word with her, because despite how she feels, she’s not allowed to be rude.” She made her point evidently clear.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Jordan reassured Leah with a soft smile, “You deserve to have the night off and enjoy your party tonight, don’t worry about either of the kids, they’ll be fine.”

“It's not so much Buddy I’m worried about, it’s more so Monkey,” Leah admitted, shaking her head as she jiggled her car keys in her hand, “I’ve already dealt with both her delightful attitude and language before we left the house and she knows I’m not putting up with it.”

“Oh, bad morning?” Jordan winced in response, “I had no idea moving to another club would have this much effect on her.” She admitted, ultimately regretting the decision there at that very moment.

“It’s a change and Monkey doesn’t cope with them but she’ll get used to it, Jord,” Leah reassured her ex girlfriend, “It just means things around the house are a little bit tense right now, but she’ll get used to it soon enough.”

“But in the meantime you get the brunt of her delightful teenage attitude? That’s not right,” Jordan frowned, hating the idea of you taking most of your anger out on the blonde, “I’m sorry you're having to deal with that.”

“It’s alright, I totally expected it honestly,” Leah admitted as she exhaled a sigh, “It won’t last forever and she knows I won’t stand for it, I was this close to grounding her after she swore at me earlier.” She adds, her patience wearing thin for your lovely words directed towards her.

“Understandable,” Jordan smiled wearily as she scratched the back of her neck, “I don’t have much hope to fix everything in an instant but I can at least try my hardest.” She tells her.

“Just don’t give up on her,” Leah told her as she shared a knowing look with Jordan as she popped her head into the living room and smiled when she saw you’ve joined Buddy on the floor to give Blu some fuss, “Seems just like old times, eh?” She joked, gesturing for Jordan to look in the living room.

“I swear I have a photo identical to this taken last year,” Jordan joked lightly as she moved further into the living room, “I was thinking that we could have pasta for dinner tonight? Monkey, I know it’s one of your favourites… unless it’s changed?” She asked, hesitant for the backlash from you.

“No thanks, I’m not hungry,” You respond politely as you could while seeing the warning luck that Leah is giving you in case you comment something less polite.

“Monkey, you didn’t eat much for breakfast nor did you have anything for lunch,” Leah frowned and shook her head, “You love pasta, especially the way Jord makes it!”

“Not hungry,” You repeated with a tight lipped smile on your face, going back to staring at your phone in your hand and scrolling through Instagram.

“That’s okay,” Jordan agreed with you, “I’ll go ahead and start to make it, I’ll leave some out for you in case you decide you're a bit hungry.” She told you, although you doubt you would want to eat it.

“Right then,” Leah spoke up as she looked towards both you and Buddy, “I’m going to head off back home to get ready, I’ll leave you three to it.”

“Thanks, Le,” Jordan replied, smiling at her ex, “I hope you enjoy your party tonight and celebrate.”

“Oh I intend too,” Leah couldn’t help but grin playfully at her ex, “Much better to know that the girls are both here with you as well.” She added.

“They’re safe with me,” Jordan promised, “Enjoy your party and don’t worry about things here, it’ll be fine.”

“Here’s hoping so– Monkey, be good!” Leah warned, pointing her index finger directly at you, “Remember what I said.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You murmured, rolling your eyes.

“Mummy, wait for me. I didn’t say bye to you!” Buddy came rushing over to Leah and threw her little arms around her.

“Oh how could I leave without saying bye to my little bubba?” Leah leaned down and cupped Buddy’s face in her hands before she peppered her face with kisses, “Be good for your Mama, okay? I love you lots and lots!”

“Love ‘ou lots and lots, Mummy!” Buddy told her, continuing to hug Leah tightly.

“Not as much as I love you, my little bubba,” Leah genuinely smiled at the 2 year old before she turned her attention to you as she walked nearer to where you sat on the sofa, “And I love you too, my grumpy girl.” she told you, placing a kiss on your forehead, much to your own protest about it.

“Leah man, get off,” You grumbled, trying to swat her hand away from touching you, “Bye!”

Leah and Jordan shared another apprehensive look with one another, “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control here. I’ll text you if anything bad happens,” Jordan reassured her, “Enjoy the night, honestly.”

“Okay, okay,” The blonde exhaled a sigh and runs her hand through her hair, “I’ll have my phone with me the whole time, so you can still text me if you need too,” She said, looking more towards you to reassure you that you can still get in touch with her if needed.

“Prepared to be spammed with gifs,” You murmured, a mischievous glint in your eye as you don’t even bother to look up from your phone in your hand, “Can’t say I didn’t warn you either.” You added.

“Mama! Mama!” Buddy’s voice was the centre of conversation with Jordan as the two of them played together on the carpet in front of you with some of the cars that your favourite little buddy brought from home, “Me cars’ red like Mummy’s team!”

Jordan’s eyes lit up in amazement as she smiled at the 2 year old, “That’s right, clever girl! What colour is this car?” She wondered, holding up the dark blue coloured car.

“Blue!” Buddy retorted, excitedly, “Like, not Mummy’s team!” She added.

“Well done, Buddy,” Jordan praised the toddler, “You’re getting more and more smart every day, kiddo!” She told her.

You couldn’t help but sit there and roll your eyes. You didn’t care much to contribute to the conversation Jordan and Buddy were having, you would much rather be interested to sit on your phone like you planned to do, at least your TikTok page was a good distraction.

“Alright, I should probably start dinner soon,” Jordan said, realising the time on the clock on the wall, moving to get up from the floor as she looked at you, “Will you please keep an eye on Buddy for me while I sort that out?” She asked.

Glancing up from your phone, you couldn’t help but huff and place it beside you, “Yeah whatever, but not for you though, I’m only doing it for Buddy,” You told her, bluntly as possible.

“Oh, yeah that’s fine,” Jordan responded, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat as she tries to not feel too hurt by that comment but the reality of it was that it really bothered her - You used to be so close with her, you would follow her around like a little shadow and not you want nothing to do with her at all, it really stung.

“Monkey, will ‘ou play with me?” Buddy’s little voice chirped as she peered up to look at you with hopeful eyes, “We build lego!”

“How can I say no to my favourite little buddy?” A small small appeared on your face as you slid off the sofa to join Buddy on the floor, she had all but completely abandoned her cars she was previously playing with in favour of the lego bricks that she attempted to drag over from the corner of the room, “Too heavy, Monkey!” She whines in frustration.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got them, Bud,” You giggled and stood up to easily move and pick up the lego bricks, “See? They’re not that heavy, you just needed a strong big sister to lift them up,” You joked with her.

“Thank ‘ou!” Buddy squealed and immediately dived into the box to start pulling out the different colourful lego bricks, “Monkey, ‘ou start with this one and I start with this one!” She declared, handing you a green block.

“Why can’t I have the one you have?” You asked playfully, pointing to the red block that she had in her hands, “I prefer that one.”

“No, that’s my block. ‘Ou have the green one!” Buddy’s little voice demands firmly, pushing the green block back into your hand, “I like red better!”

“Of course you do,” You retorted, grinning in amusement, “What colour is North London, Buddy?”

“Red!” Buddy declared loudly.

“Ain’t that right, Bud!” You nodded in agreement, “Guess I can agree to stick with the green block just for you.” You added, shrugging your shoulders as the two of you start to build together.

However that didn’t stop the two of you squabbling about the rest of the blocks though.

“What’s going on in here then?” Jordan popped her head round the door as she heard the commotion coming from the living room, “I thought you two would be playing nicely in here, eh?”

“Mama!” Buddy’s lower lip trembled a little, her big eyes filling up with frustration, “Monkey’s not sharing and letting me the ‘ellow block!” She whined, pointing accusingly at you.

“You're such a tattletale sometimes,” You rolled your eyes, feeling the frustration building inside of you, “You wanted me to play with you, Buddy! How am I supposed to build something if you keep taking them all?” You argued, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

Jordan sighed and knelt down to the toddlers level, “Buddy, you know if you want Monkey to play with you then you have to share,” She reminded her, “Even if you like the certain coloured blocks.”

“But you don’ understand Mama, I like them ones. Monkey can have others!” Buddy pouted, clearly not liking the answer, “My blocks!” She declared, keeping a tight hold of them.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” You remarked, feeling your own frustration simmering as you do no more than push the tower over that Buddy’s been building in anger, “Oops.”

“M’ Tower!” Buddy’s whined, her upset clearly evident as the tears began to form in her big eyes, her lower lip quivering, “Monkey, ‘ou ruined it!”

“Oh well,” You shrugged carelessly and sidestepped over it to make your way back to sit on the sofa again.

“Monkey!” Jordan’s eyes widened in disbelief at your current attitude, especially towards your favourite little buddy of all people before she was quick to scoop the upset 2 year old onto her lap, “Hey, it’s okay, Buddy. We can just build it again, yeah?” She reassured her, hoping to calm the situation.

Buddy continued to sob and cling to Jordan, “I no wan’ build with Monkey, she’s a meany!”

You couldn’t lie and say that didn’t hurt your feelings because it definitely did to hear it out of the toddlers’ mouth even if she didn’t quite understand the words that she was saying.

“It’s just a tower,” You muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned your attention back to your phone in your hand again to scroll through your social media feeds, “It’s not a big deal.” You added, feeling a tiny bit guilty for upsetting the toddler.

Jordan exhaled a sigh and continued to cradle an upset Buddy in her arms as she turned her attention towards you to address the situation, “Hey, little one–”

“Don’t call me that!” You snapped at her, feeling so much hatred towards the woman in that very moment, “I’m not your little one anymore. You of all people don’t get to call me that!” 

Jordan’s face fell, the weight of your words hitting her like a punch to the gut. You watched her blink a few times, trying to process the sting of your outburst while still holding Buddy close.

“Okay,” The woman said quietly, her voice trembling slightly but still calm, “Look, I know you’re upset right now and I’m sorry li– Monkey, I am, but regardless of that, it’s not okay to upset Buddy like you did,” She told her, her tone gentle but still firm.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” You muttered, not having any interest in this conversation with Jordan at that moment, “You can’t tell me what to do either, you don’t get the right to do that anymore!”

“I know,” Jordan mumbled, exhaling a sigh as she knows that you’re really upset with her and she’s not going to push you to talk to her, “Right, Buddy. How about you come with me into the kitchen while Mama cooks dinner and that way we can give Monkey a bit of space, yeah?”

“Uh huh,” Buddy sniffled and nodded, her little face still wet with tears as she was reluctant to let go of Jordan anytime soon with her arms wrapped firmly around the older woman.

“Come on then,” Jordan murmured softly, standing up with the toddler in her arms as she casted one more glance in your direction, her expression a mixture of concern and sadness, “Take the time you need to calm down, Monkey. If you need me then we’ll be in the kitchen.” She added, before turning towards the kitchen.

“I won’t,” You stated coldly, although you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt tugging at your chest, but you did your best to shove it down and turn your attention back to your phone.

Had you really meant to come across that horrible?

The frustration you felt was evident and you had to remember that Jordan left you, one of the people that used to be a constant source of comfort and support and now she was just gone, but it was her own fault for leaving when she did, so maybe she did deserve the resentment you were showing towards her after all.

You were even more reluctant to join them for dinner, even if pasta was your favourite dinner sometimes but you were too stubborn to give in.

You were somewhat glad that Jordan seemed to sense that you didn’t want to be bothered and didn’t start up another conversation with you, at least until it came time to put Buddy to bed later that night.

“I’m about to go and put Buddy to bed,” Jordan said after coming back through the living room with the toddler ready for bed in fresh pajamas and wet hair from the bath.

You did have to admit that it hurt a little bit when the toddler didn’t reach towards like she usually did, but you suppose that you were mean when you pushed her tower over.

“Okay, have fun with that,” You muttered, continuing to give her the cold shoulder.

Jordan adjusted Buddy in her arms, “Maybe after that, we could sit and watch a film? You still like Shrek, don’t you?” She offers, hoping to start an olive branch from that.

“Not in the mood,” You murmured, reluctant to look up your phone where you currently had previously been spamming Leah with gifs like you had promised, you were so gutted you weren’t old enough to be there in the club with everyone else and had to be stuck here instead with Jordan.

“For Shrek?” Jordan questioned, tilting her head to the side in shock, “Oh, I never thought I’d see the day. Alright, how about one of those Marvel films? I remember you used to absolutely love–”

“No,” You interjected, scowling at her menacingly, “I don’t want to watch a movie with you, and I don’t want to talk about the past either. You left, remember? That’s on you!”

“Oh, uh well then that’s alright,” Jordan stammered, lost for words in that current moment, “Um, I’m just gonna go and put Buddy to bed then.” She added, quick to escape to the safe haven of the toddlers’ bedroom and leave you to sulk in the living room.

You felt a pang of guilt but then you remembered that Jordan brought this on herself. She’s the one that left you, it wasn’t the other way around.

She deserves to be treated this way.

You weren’t left to stew in your thoughts for very long before Jordan wandered back through into the living room, you hoped that she might just leave you to it but you were sadly mistaken with that as she came to join you on the sofa as she grabbed a hold of the remote and turned the TV on to find something decent to watch.

You were fine enough to not have to speak to her while you just continued to sit there on your phone, you suppose you could have gone and sat in your bedroom but that just felt a bit lonely.

It was awkward though for the two of you just sat in a tense silence before Jordan was the first to start up a conversation, “Monkey,” The woman began to speak as she looked towards you, “Do you, uh, do you think we could talk?” She questioned, hesitantly.

Exhaling a deep sigh, you didn’t break eye contact from your phone at all, “I have nothin’ to say to you,” You murmured bluntly, continuing to scroll your Instagram stories. You had seen several private stories of the girls at Leah’s birthday party tonight and you can’t help but be envious that you couldn’t be there instead.

“Okay, well how about you just listen and I talk then instead?” Jordan suggested, wearily as she muted the TV show she’d stuck on, “Look, I know that things have been tough since I transferred to Aston Villa, but you have to understand I did it for the right reasons.”

“You left,” You sneered at her, cold and heartlessly.

Why couldn’t you be at Leah’s party instead of being stuck here in this current situation?

It wasn't fair!

Speaking of the blonde, she had sent you a delightful text that you somewhat made sense off right at the moment.

captain buzzkill 🙄🫡 Hi my cheeky monkeey! 🐒 I hoep you’re not causin any trouble for jord and pease don’t give her a hard time. she loves you so mcuh and I love you so mcuh. lots and lots like jelly tots my girl 💕💕 I’ll see you tomorrrow xxx

You couldn’t help but giggle at the state of her text message, it was very clear that she was very drunk already by the lack of words spelled correctly but it was nice then even when she was out partying and having a good time, she still thought about you and checked in to make sure you were okay throughout.

“What’s so funny?” Jordan questioned, curiously as she peered up from looking at her own phone.

“Nothin’ just something one of the girls sent me from college,” You lied to her, not wanting to tell her it was actually Leah.

Jordan hummed in agreement, “Oh right,” She paused, “Hey, do you uh, do you want to have a game of Fifa?” She suggested another attempt to try and make amends.

“No I’m good,” You were quick to agree.

“That’s okay,” Jordan replied, sounding disheartened.

You huffed and stood up from the sofa, “I don’t want to play video games, I don’t want to watch anything and I certainly don’t want to talk to you,” You told her bluntly, not giving her the chance to speak again, “I’m going to bed,” With that, you made your quick escape down the hallway to your bedroom that you had here.

Although you didn’t make a direct beeline for your bedroom, instead crept quietly inside the toddlers’ bedroom, “Buddy?” You whispered quietly, praying that she wasn’t already asleep.

“Monkey?” Buddy’s little head popped up from her cot with her dummy bobbing gently in her mouth as her eyes lit up when she saw you, before she reached her arms out.

A small smile tugged at your lips, a sense of relief washing over you that she still wanted you despite the way you had acted earlier, “Yeah, it’s just me,” You murmured softly, leaning over the bars of the cot to scoop her up gently. 

Making sure to grab Buddy’s blanket, you wrapped it around her to keep her warm, before sitting down with her in the rocking chair, “I wanted to say sorry for upsetting you earlier.”

“Ou’ were mean,” Buddy mumbled, her words muffled by her dummy still in her mouth as she nuzzled her head against your chest, “Ou’ broke the tower.”

“I’m sorry I did that,” You whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as you felt the guilt of earlier weighing heavily, “That was really mean of me to do it and I didn’t mean to get so angry about things either.”

“Ou’ mean to Mama too,” Buddy said, her eyes peering up at you with quiet sadness, “Ou’ made Mama sad. Don’ like Mama sad.”

Your breath caught in your throat at her words, “I know,” You murmured softly, your fingers gently running through her soft curls, “It’s just… You wouldn’t really understand it, Buddy. It’s complicated.”

Buddy nuzzled closer, the rhythmic sound of your heartbeat soothing her, but words still echoed in your mind. You didn’t want to upset anyone, least of all your favourite little buddy, “I don’t want to ever upset you, Buddy. Do you forgive me?” You asked, your voice filled with hope.

“I forgive ‘ou, Monkey,” Buddy replied softly, her tiny arms wrapping around you in a forgiving embrace, “Ou’ have to be nice to Mama too!”

You couldn’t help but smile at her innocence, though her words stung a little, “Yeah, I’ll try, Bud,” You murmured, gently rocking her as you stared out into the dimly lit room, “Things are just a bit tricky at the minute for me to do that, but I’ll try.”

It was easier said than done and you know there’s still a long way to go before you are willing to accept the apology any time soon, but at least Buddy seemed satisfied enough with your answer as her little hand gripped your shirt and continued to rest her head against your chest.

“I love you, Buddy,” You whispered, pressing another soft kiss to the top of her head, “You’re the best little sister I could ever wish for.” 

The comfort of your embrace lulling Buddy to sleep in your arms, her breath slow and steady against you and for a moment, the weight of everything seemed to lift, feeling the connection that only you two shared.

What you didn’t realise was that Jordan had overheard the entire conversation through the baby monitor that you forgot was still in Buddy’s bedroom. Her heart melted at the tender conversation between you and Buddy, and although she understood that you were seriously upset with her, it left her with some hope that just maybe, things between you both would be okay eventually one day.

You hadn’t expected to wake up in a panic like you did, you felt as if your heart was racing and your breath was quickened. Looking around the dimly lit, unfamiliar room, your surroundings felt too large, too cold and you didn’t like it at all.

Disorientated, you threw your duvet off you as it felt like you needed to escape from it.

Of course you had another nightmare, typically, it was about both of your biological parents this time round. You guess your mum leaving you had been on your mind lately, overshadowing Jordan’s absence in your life now, it brought up a whole lot of unwanted feelings, all over again.

Making your way into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, you succeed with that task until you take a misstep, tripping over one of Blu’s toys in the process and go flying, the glass falling out of your hands and smashing into pieces on the floor.

“Monkey?” Jordan’s voice spoke softly, appearing in the kitchen as her concern was evident, “It’s late. What’re you doin’ up at this time?”

Standing there frozen in the kitchen staring at the shattered glass on the floor until the woman’s voice broke you out of your trance, “Uh, I… I just wanted to grab a glass of water. I tripped over Blu’s toy and it fell out of my hands,” You admitted, looking around to spot the dustpan and brush, “I’ll clean it up now.”

Jordan shook her head in disagreement and was careful to not step directly in the glass, “Careful, you’ll get glass in your feet,” She told you, moving to grab the dustpan and brush out of the cupboard where it’s kept, “Stay there and let me sweep it up, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to do that. I’m really sorry!” The tired state you were in overshadowed the anger you felt towards the older woman, immediately apologetic for what had happened due to past childhood trauma.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s just a glass,” Jordan reassured you, finishing sweeping up the broken glass and dumping it in the bin, “Do you want me to get you another drink?” She questioned, turning to look at you.

“No it’s okay, I… I’m just gonna go back to bed,” You murmured, shaking your head and turning in the direction to head back down the hallway to your bedroom without another word.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Jordan’s words made you snap your head back around and glare at her, “Was that the reason that you’re awake?”

“No,” You growled at her, not wanting to talk about things as you started to wake up  and were more aware of the conversation you were having with the woman.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jordan offered you, evident concern in her voice.

“No, not with you I don’t,” You snapped, continuing to scowl at her, “You… You abandoned me as well when things got tough!”

Jordan frowned and shook her head, “Monkey, I haven’t abandoned you. I’m still here,” She paused, “I know it’s hard to understand that, but look, I’m still here, even if it might not seem like it right now.”

“Yes you did!” You shouted, pointing your index finger directly at her, “Yes you did!” You repeated.

“Hey, please keep your voice down,” Jordan reminded you, her tone gentle but still firm, “Buddy’s asleep, remember? I don’t want you waking her up.”

You couldn’t help scoffing and rolling your eyes, “Oh of course you only care about that.”

“I care about you too, little one–” Jordan began to tell you.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore, you left me!” You interjected, your voice a bit louder than you realised it was.

“I’m still here, Monkey,” Jordan murmured, trying to get through to you.

“No you’re not!” You exclaimed, shaking your head in disagreement, “You left, you’re just… you’re just like them!”

“Monkey–” Jordan began to speak in a calm tone of voice.

“Mama,” The conversation was broken up by Buddy waking up, making her upset well known.

Jordan exhaled a sigh, “I’m going to take care of Buddy and try to get her back to sleep,” She paused, running her hands through her hair, “Try and get some sleep, kid. Just know I’ll always be here for you,” With that, she walked past you to head into Buddy’s room and you are once again left feeling bad for waking up your favourite little buddy.

Could you really ever forgive her for just abandoning you in the way she did?

Right now, it really didn’t seem possible for that to happen at all, but maybe time will tell eventually.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[miaaluvspaige]

Title: Playing the Part

Parring : Caitlin Clark x reader

It had all started as a joke. A casual comment made during lunch with your friends, a harmless *what if* scenario that was never supposed to lead anywhere. But somehow, Caitlin Clark had overheard, and now, here you were—walking into a packed house party, your hand tightly clasped in hers, trying to convince everyone that the two of you were a couple.

The whole “fake dating” thing had seemed like a brilliant solution at the time. Caitlin needed a way to get her teammates off her back. They’d been teasing her constantly, trying to set her up with random girls, and she was fed up. You, on the other hand, had been sick of your ex showing up at every party, flaunting their new relationship. So when Caitlin came to you with the idea, it seemed like a win-win.

You were friends, after all. Pretending to date couldn’t be *that* hard… right?

Right.

---

**The Party**

The moment you and Caitlin stepped through the front door, you felt a shift in the atmosphere. People were watching you two, whispering, glancing back and forth between you as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. You tried to stay calm, reminding yourself that this was just for show.

“You okay?” Caitlin whispered as she leaned down to your ear, her voice soft but filled with concern.

You nodded, flashing her a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… getting into character, I guess.”

Caitlin laughed, giving your hand a light squeeze. “Relax. We’ve got this.”

Together, you navigated through the crowd, exchanging casual small talk with people who stopped to say hi. Every so often, Caitlin would drape her arm around your shoulders or place a hand on your waist—just enough to keep up the charade without overdoing it. But each time she touched you, your heart skipped a beat. It was silly, you knew. This was all pretend.

At one point, Caitlin leaned in again, her breath warm against your skin. “Heads up, your ex is here.”

Your stomach clenched as you followed her gaze across the room. Sure enough, your ex was standing by the drinks table, deep in conversation with a group of mutual friends. A wave of anxiety swept through you, and you took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Do you want to leave?” Caitlin asked softly, her voice full of genuine concern. She kept her body close to yours, as though shielding you from any awkward encounters.

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “Let’s just… keep playing the part.”

Without missing a beat, Caitlin slipped her hand into your back pocket, pulling you a little closer. It was subtle, but anyone watching would definitely take notice. Your ex included.

You felt their eyes on you, the tension between you and Caitlin suddenly charged with an electricity you hadn’t expected. It was as though the air around you had shifted, and for a brief moment, you forgot this was all just an act.

---

**A Week Later: The Game**

The next week, Caitlin had a huge game. The Hawkeyes were facing off against one of their biggest rivals, and the entire campus was buzzing with excitement. As always, you were in the stands, cheering her on. But tonight, things felt… different.

Ever since the party, you and Caitlin had kept up the fake relationship act for your friends. And for the most part, it had been easy—almost too easy. There were moments when you could barely tell where the line between pretending and reality blurred.

Sometimes, when Caitlin grabbed your hand in between classes or smiled at you during practice, you’d catch yourself wondering if there was something real beneath it all. You’d shake the thought away, reminding yourself that this was all just for fun. But the more time you spent with her, the harder it became to convince yourself that you weren’t feeling something more.

The game that night was intense, as expected. Caitlin was on fire, driving down the court, draining three-pointers like she’d been doing it her whole life. The crowd erupted every time she scored, and you found yourself beaming with pride.

But your focus wasn’t entirely on the game. It was on Caitlin. The way she moved, the way she commanded the court with such confidence and skill—it was mesmerizing. She had this effortless grace about her, and you couldn’t help but feel a little awestruck every time you watched her play.

When the final buzzer rang out and Iowa secured the win, the gym exploded into cheers. You stood up, clapping and shouting with the rest of the crowd. Caitlin’s teammates rushed onto the court, congratulating her on yet another stellar performance. You were about to make your way down to join the celebration when you saw her break away from the group, her eyes scanning the stands.

Before you knew it, Caitlin was heading straight for you, her expression soft but determined. You barely had time to react before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, celebratory hug. The crowd went wild, assuming they were witnessing an adorable couple moment.

But when Caitlin set you back down on the ground, the look in her eyes wasn’t just for show. There was something else there. Something real.

Your heart thudded in your chest as she leaned in close, her forehead resting gently against yours. “We make a pretty good team, huh?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

You swallowed hard, your emotions suddenly all over the place. “Yeah,” you murmured, your voice soft. “We do.”

---

**Later: The Confession**

It wasn’t until later that night, after the post-game celebrations had wound down, that the tension between you two came to a head. You were both back at her apartment, sitting on her couch, the remnants of the adrenaline from the game still coursing through your veins.

Caitlin was scrolling through her phone, absentmindedly playing with the hem of her sweatshirt. You sat beside her, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Caitlin,” you said softly, your voice hesitant but determined.

She looked up, her expression curious. “What’s up?”

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I… I think I’m starting to have real feelings for you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Caitlin’s eyes widened, her phone forgotten as she stared at you in surprise. Your heart pounded in your chest, the vulnerability of your confession hanging heavy in the air.

But then, slowly, a small smile crept onto her face. “You know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… what?”

Caitlin laughed softly, reaching out to take your hand. “I’ve been falling for you this whole time,” she admitted, her eyes searching yours. “This fake dating thing… it stopped feeling fake for me a while ago. I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

Your heart swelled at her words, a wave of relief washing over you. “So… this is real?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Caitlin nodded, her thumb brushing gently across your knuckles. “Yeah,” she said, her voice soft but sure. “It’s real.”

Before you could even process what was happening, Caitlin leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was slow and sweet, filled with all the unspoken feelings that had been building between you for weeks. When she pulled back, her smile was radiant.

“I don’t want to pretend anymore,” Caitlin said, her voice barely a whisper as she looked into your eyes. “I want this. For real.”

You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Me too.”

Mia speaks

If you haven’t noticed I’ve been posting a lot today these are all my drafts I’m spending a few minutes fixing them all up and posting them

[wandascrush]

Runaway Bride

Summary: There’s only one person you really want on your wedding day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Weddings, love, crying, running away, lots of angst

Song: Someday I’ll get it by Alek Olsen

You were out of breath by the time you got there, crisp cold air hurting your chest. Your throat was as dry as sandpaper. Natasha was there, waiting for you like she always was. Your legs were tired from running, broken nude heels in your hands, beautiful and forgotten. The white flowy, soft fabric of your dress touched your body delicately, dragging and picking up the color from the wet mossy grass. Sore legs lowered down to sit on the grass next to the girl who once captured your heart…but she was silent. Just you two, alone. The air was so cold it hurt your bones. 

   You rested your head against the large oak tree that sat behind you two, making a little cove under its branches. So many thoughts were racing through your mind, “I’ve ruined everything. What will people think? I have to say sorry.” But once you saw your favorite spot waiting for you, with your favorite girl, everything melted away. You shouldn’t even be here right now, you shouldn’t have been thinking about Natasha, but she was the only person that ran through your mind. 

   “Long time no see, Natty.” 

    You’ve gotten used to her silence though, it kind of became her new character trait these days. Sometimes you pretended it didn’t hurt anymore, but it always did. A little more each time. Rain droplets started to fall around you, wetting every inch of dirt and stone. More green from the grass started to slowly seep into the beautiful white fabric of your dress. You knew her deep gaze was on you, looking at you with pity…maybe with love? 

   Your chest tightened as you blinked hard, vision blurring, “I was supposed to get married today, you know,” a sad laugh escaped your throat as you played with the fabric of your dress, “I looked beautiful. My hair was done and my makeup was perfect and-I was supposed to be happy today,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I was supposed to be standing at that altar, looking into her eyes, promising forever. But I couldn’t even say the words. Because every time I looked at her, I saw you. And I hated myself for it.”

 “I’m so tired of missing you…and funny enough, I thought getting married would make me happier. But all I see is you. When I say my vows, it’s your name they’re written for.”

I think of you all the time, now that you’re gone.

    The rain poured down in relentless sheets, soaking through the dress. The sky above was a swirling mass of dark clouds and angry wind. Digging your manicured fingers into the soft mud, it felt like the only grounding thing. The feeling of mud seeping under your nails was the only anchor you had.

   You checked your phone, trying to wipe the rain off of it and realized that you’d already been there for over an hour with Natasha. You needed to get back, answer all the missed calls and texts. This would be the last time you two saw each other…something inside you was certain about it. Shaky legs stood up, using the big oak tree as support and grabbing the bouquet you forgot about next to you. 

   You slowly kneeled down in front of your first love, first everything, and pressed your forehead against her cold grave stone, “If love could have saved you,” breaths came in short, sharp gasps, salty tears falling into your mouth, “you would have lived forever, my Natasha.” Soft lips kissed the engraving of her name as you gently lied the bouquet down for her, grabbed your broken heels, and said goodbye. It took all your strength to not look back as you walked out of the private cemetery.

[chiscaralight]

nsfw kinich x fem reader. i love him, i miss him, choking, repaying favors iykyk

i’m so sorry but you know the part at the end of the last scions of the copy tribal quest where kinich says:

'promise me, if you need anything in the future you’ll come to me.’

so on a particularly tough night where your fingers aren’t doing enough, and humping your folded pillows insnt helping, you find yourself stumbling towards his home in the dead of the night. he swings the door open when he realizes it’s you, questioning why you’re here at such a weird hour.

“you said if i need anything i could come to you..”

“yeah, i did. what do you need?”

kinich is very precise with his work. it's something he's well known for, but you weren't too familiar with. but now, with his fingers expertly plunging in and out of your cunt as you struggle to keep your legs up, you understand what everyone means now. his face is inches from yours, breath fanning over your face as he studies your pleasured expression. your back is arching off the smooth wood of the door that he had you pressed against mere moments ago after you smashed your lips against his in the doorway.

his tongue is hot against your neck. you're desperately gripping at the wrist that's assaulting your sopping hole, weakly attempting to push it away from the sheer pleasure that's blooming throughout your lower half. you're whining, cries of his name dripping out of your lips as your thighs start to clamp down around your hand. and he's trying to ignore the throbbing in his pants because you came to him for help this time. you'd done a great deal for him, and it would be unfair to take something from you again so soon. but those eyes of yours, they're pleading, begging for him to just fill you up, as much as that perfect body of yours could take.

and he was right to trust his instincts because your cunt is sucking him in so well. his fingers are tight against your throat, pressing down as his free hand moves to wrap around your waist. he has perfect leverage like this, pulling your back against his chest as he fucks into you sharp and hard. your hands are gripping at nothing, the feeling of his cock combined with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain sending you into a sweet spiral. you can't even feel the words leave your mouth, soft whines and pleas surging into his ears as you mindlessly beg.

"i-inside, kinich. please, please-"

it's the least he could do, after everything you've done for him. he's also trying to convince himself that he's doing this for you, not because he's been thinking about pumping you full of his cum. sure, he'd finish his commissions early so he could drag mualani to come and hang out with the two of you, or purposefully rile up ajaw so he'd have a reason to put him in time out, giving him enough privacy to pump his length to the thought of you. but no, this was entirely about what he was willing to give back to you. so he'd free up your neck, letting your body softly drop to the bed, before securing your hips with both of his hands before ruining you. you're fisting the sheets, squealing hard as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, his thrusts are messy and uncalculated, warmth painting your walls as his orgasm waves through the two of you. he's still smacking into you with such fervor, that you can't hold back your own climax, releasing around his still-hard length with a yell.

and he's obsessed with the white ring that's starting to form around the base of his cock from your orgasm. your pretty hole is still fluttering around him as he continues to move. he stills for just a second, then mutters an apology. he knows he's supposed to be assisting you here, but he just can’t help himself. he's going to have to take one more orgasm from you tonight, but he’ll make sure to give you one right back.

[formulawolff]

ii. eighteen minutes - t.w.

pairing: reserve fem driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 2.5k

warnings: morally gray individuals, slow burn, sexual content (intercourse), allusions to sexual content, cursing, marijuana use, references to alcohol use, lots of power imbalance, questionable boss x employee dynamics, light toxicity, slight controlling tendencies from toto

a/n: here’s the second chapter of my new baby. i really like the direction of this fic & i hope y’all do too. also, i really wanna clarify and say that the reader, toto, and max are NOT supposed to be good people. they are supposed to be written as people who have flaws + make mistakes. i hope y’all enjoy! <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆:

“look at you! come on now, do a little spin for me.”

sucking in a breath, you swivel on your heel, turning in a tight circle. lewis nods in approval, his tongue swiping along his lower lip.

“who knew a fire suit could look so good on someone? if you’re not careful, you may have quite a few drivers in your dms later. me included!”

“stop,” you hiss through gritted teeth, “it’s a little tighter than i would like in some areas.”

lewis’ lips purse, the british driver eyeing every inch of the suit, “that’s not necessarily a bad thing–”

“could you stop harassing our sweet girl?” 

george strolls through the entrance of the garage, arms folding over his chest. lewis rolls his eyes, mouth forming a pout as george plucks a strand of hair from your right rib-cage, “how come you get to be that close?”

“because i don’t sexualize her every five seconds,” george mutters, shaking his head, “how are you feeling? nervous?”

“nervous?” a dry laugh erupts from the base of your throat, “i’m clenching my cheeks right now. i’m afraid i’m going to shit myself.”

“it’ll pass,” george shrugs, “soon the adrenaline will kick in and you’ll be fine. don’t stress yourself out too much. it’s only qualifying.”

“it’s only my first qualifying in formula one,” you counter, wiping your slick palms on your suit, “it’s only my debut as one of the few female drivers in a male-dominated sport. it’s only the first time the other teams will get to watch me drive and–”

“you just want to look good for red bull,” lewis waves a hand, “don’t act all coy over there. we’ve seen your interviews. we know you have an interest in joining the dark side.”

“the dark side?” you arch a brow, “what does that mean?”

“you’d be under the helm of christian horner if you went over to red bull,” george exhales, his hands settling on his hips, “that’s a no-no in the mercedes handbook. so, we refer to it as the dark side.”

“oh,” a slight wave of shame blazes within you as you sense the subtle scrutiny radiating off the british drivers as they pick you apart, anticipating your response, “i just wanted to showcase my capabilities, that’s all.”

“there’s no harm in that,” lewis whistles, “after all, a lot of seats are up for grabs. several long-term contracts for drivers are going to be up after the season. 2025 is going to be one interesting year. that’s for sure.”

“indeed,” george nods, “not a lot will change around here though. i’ll be sticking around. so will lewis.”

at george’s statement, you notice the way lewis tenses up, almost freezing in place. yet, he loosens up the moment another individual enters the paddock, the driver bearing a meek smile.

“howdy, toto!”

“guten morgen,” the team principal is almost cold, showing no emotion as he approaches the three of you, “i assume the two of you briefed our little hase on our strategy for qualifying this weekend?”

“yep,” lewis dips his head, “she’s chomping at the bit to get a hot lap in!”

“ah!” the team principal’s head turns in your direction, a smug smirk now apparent, “is that so?”

fuck you, lewis hamilton. fuck you big time. 

“yup!” you swallow thickly, shifting in place, “i’m ready!”

in reality, there was nothing more than you wanted in that moment to be in max’s arms, snuggling against his chest as his hands roamed, rubbing gentle circles into your back. 

as much as you shunned those feelings that bubbled to the surface whenever he was near, there was one thing that you could not deny. 

he knew how to make you feel safe. 

and god did you wish he was at your side, your fingers intertwined together. even the sound of his voice was enough to soothe your nerves.

if only he was here right now.

if only.

due to the nature of formula one’s guidelines, in order to replace george, you would have to participate in at least one of the practice sessions on the track. which, since qualifying was considered a practice session, you would be given the okay to compete. however, there was the more petrifying aspect of it all.

qualifying determined the grid.  

if you did not perform, then mercedes would be at the bottom of the grid, fighting their way to the top in order to earn points. if you did not manage to snag a position in the top ten, then you would not earn any points. 

and no team wanted zero points. 

especially at the beginning of the season where a high-caliber team like mercedes wanted to make a statement. 

so, it was up to you to set that tone. 

to prove that you were not only a worthy competitor, but also that you were capable of earning points. 

talk about a pivotal point in your formula one career.

a point which would hopefully last more than eighteen minutes. 

hopefully.

“all right,” toto clears his throat, placing a hand on your shoulder, “come with me. we’re going to go on over to the car. i’m going to have you meet with bono, marcus, and james. they are going to give you a little insight about the new upgrades to the car, along with some adjustments we’ve made since sakhir.”

“sounds good,” letting out a shaky breath, you follow the team principal’s lead, dipping your head to fellow members of the crew as they wave, circling around you like vultures. they appear eager, poised to pounce at any given moment. with every passing second, the tension in the air thickened, a buzz beginning to grow among the garage. 

of course, they were talking about you. 

this was the first time you were going to be behind the wheel of their car. the car that they had worked tirelessly on over the course of weeks, if not months. the car they had poured all of their passion, their energy, and their resources into. the car that required numerous donations and sponsorships to build, craft, and perfect. 

a car that was worth millions. 

and it was up to you to ensure that the car came out unscathed, without a single scratch or dent.

some pressure that was.

and god, was it starting to weigh on your shoulders.

“before you speak to the team, i need to tell you something.”

you pause, cocking your head, “yes?”

toto leans forward, his mouth hovering merely millimeters by your ear. 

“don’t fuck this up, hase. the moment you get behind the wheel of that car you are going to do one of two things for me. one, you manage to qualify in the top ten for tomorrow. or two, you crumble under the pressure and crash the car.

if you crash the car, you’re fucking done. you will never step foot inside brackley ever again. i will release you from your contact the very moment you make it back to the paddock. so don’t fuck this up, yeah? i’m sure you don’t want to lose your cushy little lifestyle in the reserves.”

a shiver courses down your spine, fear bubbling up in the pit of your stomach as he towers over you, wearing a sickeningly smug grin. however, that terror only lasts a second, dissipating as retaliation takes over. it’s fiery and hot, your jaw clenching as your fists form tightly wound balls. 

“fuck you,” you manage to spit out, “fuck you, toto wolff.”

“that’s exactly what i wanted to hear,” he coos, breath hot as it fans against your ear, “good girl.”

“fuck you,” you sneer, “if you utter so much another word to me, i’m crashing the fucking car.”

toto wolff couldn’t help but let the satisfaction course through his veins as you glower, folding your arms tightly against your chest as you make your way over to the huddle of engineers and crew. you were almost stomping, your steps a little louder than usual. 

he had you right where he wanted you.

tensed up, fury filling you to the brim. your brows pinched together with dismay, a frown etched across your features. the toes of your shoe tapping away against the floor, itching to feel the wheel beneath your fingertips. impatient as ever, the fear of loss mixed with the desire to win creating a dangerous yet lethal mix. 

a loaded gun, merely seconds away from firing. 

to toto, this was necessary. 

this was the only way he was going to make you a champion. 

you see, toto wolff made no mistakes.

he was a calculated individual, carefully plotting and carrying out every single move when it came to the decisions made by the team. no detail, no matter how miniscule or trivial was finalized without his permission. no contract was signed without his presence. no calls were made without his knowledge. 

so, the decision to replace george with the reserve driver for the first grand prix was not a decision that was made lightly.

in his eleven years at mercedes, the team principal had witnessed it all. with eight constructors’ championships, seven driver’s championships, and a stake in the team, toto was a dominant force in the world of formula one. he had seen his fair share of controversies, faced backlash from the media, and harbored his secrets. 

although he thought he had seen just about everything there was to see in formula one, that all changed the moment he saw your face. 

that was the exact moment in which toto wolff’s entire world came to a screeching halt. 

that was the moment in which he knew he had to have you. 

he knew he needed you at mercedes. 

no matter the cost. no matter the stakes. no matter the risk.

he had lewis hamilton to thank for that. 

it all happened one race weekend in zandvoort. toto could recall the memory perfectly, down to the exact minute. he could remember the way lewis was toting you around, your arm entwined with his. it was in the garage, as lewis was giving you a tour, showing you around a little bit, introducing you to a few prominent members of the team. 

at first glance, toto was under the impression you were just another fuck for the british driver, another innocent girl that fell victim to the bachelor’s charming ways.

that all changed when lewis introduced you as the prodigy of prema racing, the one who shattered records and obliterated barriers.

the next world champion pf formula two. that was, if you played your cards right.

the next face of the mercedes team, if toto played his cards right. 

as fate would have it, you did earn that title. 

in turn, that achievement ended up changing the trajectory of your life. it opened up numerous doors, more than you ever thought were possible. brands reached out to you through social media, inquiring about sponsorships. fans praised you across social media, stating that you were a trailblazer for the world of motorsports. 

most importantly, it opened the door to formula one. 

you had toto wolff to thank for that. 

with the help of lewis, he was the one who got the ball rolling on your contract. he was the one who took a chance on the hot-headed, bratty driver. he was the one who called you, inquiring if you wanted to sign a two-year deal with mercedes. you would be in the reserves, but you would be on the team, nonetheless. 

although you were not the first or second driver sitting in a seat, toto was well aware of the potential brewing within you. 

which, was partially the reason why you were competing today. 

he wouldn’t have made the call if he did not believe in you. 

as you slip into the car, he lingers at the helm of the control panel, sliding on a pair of headphones. 

“one, two, radio check. hase, can you hear me?”

your voice, so sweet and delicate, floods his ears, “i can hear you, toto.”

“good, good,” he tuts, “okay team, let’s have a good qualifying, yeah?”

as the remainder of the crew finish the check, the team principal’s gaze fixates on the reserve driver. her helmet was a little too big, but he could make out her lashes as they fluttered, her head bobbing along as the team buzzed about, ensuring that everything was in perfect order. 

a member of the crew flashes toto a thumbs up, signaling that it was time.

“all right hase,” with every fiber in his being, the team principal fights a grin as you mimic the wave of a princess, a gloved hand rotating back and forth as the car lurches out of the garage.

“es ist zeit zu gehen.”

the second you sailed on to that track,, your foot pressing on the gas, any doubt or fear dissolved, replaced by nothing but pure, electrifying adrenaline. 

“all right ms. reserves,” marcus’ voice seeps into your right ear, “let’s see what you can do.”

when it came to qualifying, all it took was one lap. 

one singular lap to prove yourself. 

and by god, that’s what you were going to do. 

you were going to prove yourself that you were more than just a body in the reserves. you were going to prove to the world of formula one that you were dominant on the track, just as you were in formula two. you were a world champion. 

the only woman in your sport to ever accomplish that magnificent of a feat. 

one of a kind.

the longer you were on the track, the more you realized how your body longed to be behind the wheel. the bells and whistles of the car came easily to you, really. natural, even. just as you had practiced in the simulator. 

your reflexes were sharp, on point with every turn of the chicane. your feet rotated back and forth between the gas and brake with ease, almost as if they had a mind of their own, like they knew this circuit by heart. 

before you knew it, you were sailing back toward the pits, to the mercedes garage. the chatter of the radio was almost like white noise to you, as you had paid no mind to the voices that filtered in and out of your helmet. part of you felt a sense of guilt for not listening to the engineers or crew. although, at the end of the day, you were the one driving the damn car.

coming to a halt at the garage, you pit, flipping the visor up. members of the crew swarm your car. yet, the only one you really make out is toto. with his broad stature and powerful aura, he was truly hard to miss. 

the team principal leans over, one hand resting against the halo of the car. 

the other taps your helmet, the corners of his lips tugging into a broad smile. 

for the first time, you make note of his dimples. how they soften his chiseled features. 

and for the first time, you can’t help but notice how gorgeous toto wolff is when he smiles. 

“congratulations, hase,” a chuckle rumbles in his chest, his hand lingering on your helmet. 

“with the fastest lap on the track, you’ve made it to the second session of qualifying.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆:

taglist: @sweetjellyfishland @ts1m1kas @bxuzi @racecardilfs @bblouifford @justacornerofmybrain @irishmanwhore @noooway555 @sleutherclaw @okdokeygryssel63 @jeannealicette @marknolee @allyisalright-blog

[rabbidbunwy]

🔞 Gojo x reader| Minors DNI| NSFW WARNING 🔞

Needy little things

Sum. You can't get enough of your best friend dick Warnings. fem! reader x best friend roomate! Gojo,hookup, unprotected, riding f!,f! receiving,cussing,praise,petnames,cummin outside then inside,teasing,begging,both the parties being selfish in their own way,two rounds,filling up

i'm no english native so sorry for some mistakes

please reblog 🔁 and like❤️

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia @ponderingmoonlight @satorkive

He chuckled at your words. “Break you? Don’t be dramatic” he said, his hands roaming over your body. He loved teasing you, making you squirm and whine underneath him.

“You’re taking me perfectly well” he continued, his lips finding your neck. Satoru had his fair few hookups in high school, yet he never felt this way around any of them. It felt special with you. He needed you. Only you.

"Fuck Toru, don't come inside" you phanted "fuck,if someone sees us were doomed" He was too caught up in the moment, to lost in you. Your face was flushed pink, your breathing ragged, and he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“And who’s gonna catch us? They’re all in a mission" he said. His lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses behind. “No one’s going to find out.”

"Outside Gojo outside" you whined at your friend as he groaned. “You’re a tease.” Satoru did as you say, though, his release ending up on your stomach. “There. Happy, princess?” He asked, his breath panting. He’ll never understand why he does all these things with you. You know he’s supposed to be the strongest and yet here he was, listening to you like a good boy.

"More" you whined as you switched position so you were riding Gojo "Need more" you cooed “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” He teases, his hands moving to your hips to help steady you. “Just can’t get enough of me, hm?” Satoru had a habit of getting snappy when he was riled up. “So whiny” Satoru chuckles. “Stop being so cute or you won’t get what you want.” He leaned up, his lips right by your ear. “You know how to play the game, princess. Beg.”

"Mhn please let me come Satoru" you whined riding him harder "I will let you come inside just-mhn" you whined trying to bargain. He could feel you getting needier, and he loved it. Satoru grunted, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you rode him. “Needy little princess, that’s what you are.” He smirked, his blue eyes staring up at you. “And how badly do you want it?”

"Please please,so bad" you ride him hard gripping him "i'm close" He didn’t think you would be so demanding, not with the way you usually act. Even he was a bit surprised, seeing you like this. Though he knew, he knew that he was the one who reduced you into a whiny mess. “Yeah, you’re close, huh?” He says, his voice low. His hands squeezed at your hips, guiding you as you rode him. “You’re being so selfish.”

“Not even gonna ask if I’m close?” He teased, a smirk still on his face. “Just focused on yourself, princess?” Satoru was also close, though he loved seeing you like this. A sweaty, whiny mess with your only thought being your own climax. He was addicted to how you looked when you were like that. “So pretty when you’re desperate.”

“Yeah, you look good like this. Just so desperate for release.” He grunted, his grip on your hips growing tighter. “It’s so cute how you think only of yourself.” Satoru’s breath was growing more heavy, he could feel himself nearing his own release. “Can’t even ask about me, huh?” He teased, his smirk growing. “How selfish of you, princess.” He chuckled again before a moan escaped his lips. “I’m almost there, too, you know.”

You whined as you snuggled on his chest licking it "please come" you begged “There it is.” He said softly, almost lovingly. Satoru smiled as he looked down at you. “That’s what I wanted to hear, princess.” His hands moved up to your hair to pet it. “You sound so cute when you’re asking nicely.”

You gripped him mewling as you both camed "ah ahn T-toru"

His breath was shaky as he came. “Yeah” he whispered, his hands sliding up to hold you. “That’s it princess, that’s it.”

He knew what he was doing wasn’t right, that fucking his best friend was wrong. Yet he didn’t care. Satoru didn’t care if he was being selfish, as long as he had you in his arms.

“You did so good” he said gently as he pet your hair. “So, so good.” Satoru knew he should be gentle with you afterwards, as he usually was. You always got clingy, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t love it.

You felt his cum around your walls "mhn you had a lot" you whined humming Satoru huffed a laugh at your words. “Yeah” he said gently. “Yeah I guess I did.” He always cum a lot, but he felt a bit embarrassed when you pointed it out. Though that thought was quickly replaced with a smirk. “Maybe you bring that out of me.”

"i know you need more Toru,you're still so hard i can feel it" you moved your hips in a circular motion moaning softly. A gasp escaped his lips as you talked, his hands grabbing onto your hips again. “You really are a tease, huh?” He grunted. Satoru was already hard, even after just finishing. He was trying to keep up his smirk, yet his moans were a dead giveaway of just how much that turned him on. “You’re a little minx, you know that?”

“You just love getting me all worked up, don’t you?” He said, his voice a little shaky. “Playing with fire, princess…” He groaned as you moved your hips. “I’m gonna have to spank you if you don’t stop.”

“Or” he continued. “I could just make you behave right now.” His hands moved over your body, stopping to grab at your sensitive spots. “I know how to make you behave when you don’t listen, princess.”

you whined as he rubbed a certain spot "mhnn Toru,dont do this to your best friend" you teased moaning “Don’t do what?” He asked, knowing exactly what he was doing. “Teasing you?” He smirked before rolling the two of you over, so Satoru was on top of you now. “Or are you hinting that we shouldn’t be doing this?”

He placed a hand on your stomach, his blue eyes looking right at you. “You love doing this with me, princess, I’m just giving you what you want…”

“Just like that” he whispered, his breath warm on your neck. “It’s a good thing we don’t have a meeting tomorrow, huh?” He teased as he started to move his hips with more force. They were going to be at this for a while, though he didn’t mind. Satoru rarely had any self control, and he definitely didn’t when it came to you.

“You have anywhere to be in the morning?” He asked, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m gonna be keeping you up for a while, princess…” "mhn n..no..im free tomoroww morning" you moaned softly holding the sheets “Good” he said, his lips finding your neck. He started to lick and bite at it, leaving behind marks. “I can keep you all to myself then.” He was already leaving hickies on you, wanting to make sure everyone knew you were his princess.

You whined as you felt closer again "Toru.." “Yeah, I know” he whispered back, his mouth up by your ear so you could hear him clearly. “I know you’re getting close again, princess.” Satoru’s hands moved back to your hips as he started moving his hips a bit faster.

“I can tell by how you’re holding the sheets.” He teased gently, his smirk still on his face. “You really are so needy, princess. So, so needy.”

“But you’re cute like that” he continued between his own moans. “I love how you need me, so I don’t mind spoiling you a bit.” Satoru knew he shouldn’t be treating you that way, but his selfishness was so strong. He’d do anything to get a whine out of you, anything at all.

“Come on, princess” he said, his voice a bit softer. “You’re close, I know it.” Satoru began to move a bit faster, feeling himself getting closer as well. “I know you’re getting there, princess.”

“Come on, let go” he whispered, his breaths getting a bit ragged. “Let go for me, princess. I know you can do it.” Satoru’s mouth moved to your neck, biting down a bit harder than before. He was starting to get less gentle with you, but he knew that’s how you liked it.

“There it is” he teased gently, noticing the way you were whining more. “So close, huh?” Satoru’s mouth continued to work on your neck, leaving behind more hickies in their wake. “I love it when you’re so desperate, princess.”

“Can’t even talk” he teased, “just a whiny mess, just like I like you.” Satoru was getting a bit rougher with his hands now, his grip on your hips getting tighter. “You just love being helpless for me, don’t you? Yeah, thought so.”

He started moving a bit harder and faster now, his own groans getting a bit louder. “I’m close too” he mumbled into your ear. “Can’t hold back for much longer, being like this with you.”

“Princess, I’m gonna….” He warned, his mouth still on your neck. “Gonna come….” Satoru’s hands squeezed at your hips a bit harder, as if he was trying to hold back the feeling.

“Do you want it inside?” He asked, his voice quieter now. “Or out?” Satoru honestly would have let you choose either way. He didn’t have a preference, he just wanted you to keep making those whiny little sounds.

“Gotta tell me princess” he added with a smirk. “I need to know where I’m putting this.” His hand moved up to your hair, his fingers tangling with it again. “Can’t decide by myself, can I?”

"Mhn inside" you phanted mewling gripping his back “Inside.” He repeated, his voice even quieter than before. A small shiver went through his body as you told him that, his hands squeezing at your waist a bit more. He didn’t move for a moment, just trying to regain his breath before nodding. “Yeah, okay princess.”

“Gonna fill you up, okay?” He said, his lips moving up to your ear. Satoru was already close, so he didn’t move for a moment until he was ready. “Can’t keep anything from you anymore, princess… You have me wrapped around your little finger.”

“You own me, princess” he whispered, his tone a bit shaky. “All for you, all mine, just like you’re all mine…” He started moving again, his mouth moving to your neck. He was starting to get a bit rougher, almost a bit more possessive of you.

Satoru groaned as he released inside you, his body shaking slightly. “Yeah….” He muttered, his mouth still near your neck. “There it is… good princess.” He leaned back, looking down at you with his blue eyes

“Look at you” he said, his own breath still shaky. “All whiny and messy…” Satoru looked down at your body, noticing how much of a wreck he’d made you. “I wonder if it’ll ever be enough for you… you’re always so unsatisfied.”

“You just want more and more…” he teased gently, his hand moving up to your hair. “My greedy princess…” Satoru let out a light chuckle as he continued to pet your hair.

A small smile spread across his face when you snuggled into his chest, an arm wrapping around you to pull you in closer. Satoru let out a small sigh, the hand in your hair still playing with it. “You’re so adorable, princess…” He whispered as he watched you fall asleep.

“You’re always so cute like this…” he muttered, mostly talking to himself at this point. His other hand moved down to your hip, where all the marks he’d left were. He felt the desire to leave more markings there tomorrow, claiming you all over again.

“You’re all mine” he whispered as he looked down at the marks all over your neck, as well as the hickies on your hip. There wasn’t a single part of your body that Satoru hadn’t marked up, claiming you as his every single time.

He sighed again and relaxed, his arms pulling you even closer to him. He loved falling asleep with you in his arms, knowing you were all his. He let his own eyes close, holding you tight as he fell asleep as well.

[batwynn]

Everyone always talks about soulmates and the person you’re meant to be with, but all I can think about is my soul place… the place I’m meant to thrive in but can never get to.

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + seventeen

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

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

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

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

masterlist

words: 15k

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

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

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

Is taking on him.

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

Solo too.

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

“You gonna tell us what happened or—”

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

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

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

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

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

Rikishi speaks up again. “Plan?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jey nods in agreement. Rikishi looks torn. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

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

Her empty side.

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

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

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

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

He closes his eyes.

Love. 

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

Or felt. 

Not….not in this aspect at least. 

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

And then came Solana. 

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

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

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

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

Because he loves her.

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

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

Because he loves her.

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

Because he loves her. 

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

Because he loves her.

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

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

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

Or love. 

And yet….it’s there.

It’s there for her. 

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

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

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

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

Very wrong.

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

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

Roman sighs, eyes shutting again. 

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

This shit is much harder than he realized. 

________

Roman: How are you doing? 

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

Roman: Do you need me to come home?

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

Just not this soon, perhaps.

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

The smile somehow grows deeper.

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

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

Solana: We’re good. :) 

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

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

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

Roman: Where are they?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not being good enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman: Smart kid. 

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

Solana: Your kid, clearly. 😅

Roman: Damn straight.

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

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

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

Roman: We should wait longer. 

Roman: I’m not taking any risks.

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

Thus him wanting to not ‘take any risks.’ 

Solana: I understand.

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

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

Solana: Just yet anyway….

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

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

Roman: Seriously? You really want another baby?

Roman: He isn’t even a year yet.

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

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

Solana: No, you’re not.

Solana: And that wasn’t a no…..

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

Roman: It wasn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

But, he’s not.

If only he could see it. 

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

Roman: Jesus Christ 

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

But, he most certainly was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s just the kind of father he is.

His kids come first. 

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

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

“Time to get up.”

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

Her future.

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

“You up, sweetie?”

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

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

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

She shuts her eyes. 

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

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

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

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

All of it has.

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

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

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

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

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

But yet….

It’s not a horrible experience either.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When he’s the one that saved it. 

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

And then she’s smiling. 

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

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

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

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

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

Mrs. Reigns…..

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

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

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

________

“Hey.”

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

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

She can only pray this time around is different. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The other wing?”

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

“I.e. the really crazy bitches.”

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

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

“Solana—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We were kinda hoping you said that.”

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

________

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

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

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

“This has to do with Solana, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gail hesitates. “Not exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m asking you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gail takes a deep breath. 

It was worth a try. 

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

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

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

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

Solana’s handwriting. 

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

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

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

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

 10

How does this person make you feel safe?

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

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

He listens to me and always checks on me. 

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

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

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

And I started to believe him. 

It’s been on and off since then.

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

Yes. For the past four months. 

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

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

I was happy.

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

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

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

Sadness. Anger. Confusion.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

Called my husband. 

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

Roman 

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

He’s not much better than Xavier. 

If not worse. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Especially if what she wants is him.

Cause he wants her just as much. 

________

Roman doesn’t get nervous. 

Ever.

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

And he hates that shit.

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

He shuts his eyes.

Fucking nerves.

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

“Roman…”

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

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

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

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

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

But nothing about her asking for him. 

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

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

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

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

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

And he has zero issues with this. 

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

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

“Yes, of course.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Both, probably. 

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

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

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

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

Because she thought she was a burden.

It kills him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love, perhaps?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need anything?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medicine. 

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

Love….

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

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

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

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

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

He won’t deny that he loves her. 

But, he can’t act on it either. 

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

It’s just better that way. 

________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roman,

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

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

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

That’s why I’m asking.

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

Roman, I think I should go. 

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

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

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

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

For us. 

But mostly for me. 

I want to get better.

Please let me.

Te quiero mucho,

Solana

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

Because I do. 

I love you, Ro.

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

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

With all my love,

Solana

________

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

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

And he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She’s just done.

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is certainly proving to be such an eventful day. 

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

“How can I help you?”

[itneverendshere]

invisible string - r.c series (two)

pairing: pogue!rafe x kook!sweetheart!reader word count: 5.7k warnings: domestic violence; absent parents; angst; fluff. (so far) read part one here

Rafe didn’t know how to describe it, but it was like… he was breathing easier. Like he wasn’t always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He couldn’t believe you’d chosen him, a stray. He’d been taking it slow with you. 

It was mid-afternoon, and you were by the lake this time, sitting on the weathered dock, feet dangling off the edge, again. He had his fishing rod in hand, showing you how to cast it properly. The sun hung low in the sky, painting everything in this soft, golden light that made your hair glow like some kind of halo. He had to keep glancing away because it messed with his head. A literal angel.

“You gotta flick your wrist, not your whole arm,” he explained, demonstrating it for you. “Like this.” He flicked the rod smoothly, sending the line out into the water with barely a ripple.

You gave him a look, like you were tired of his shit but then copied his motion. Your line barely made it halfway to where his was, and you huffed, frustrated. He laughed quietly, shaking his head.

“You’re tryin’ too hard,” he said, standing up to move behind you. “Here, lemme help.”

He hesitated for a second, then stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your from behind, guiding your hands to hold the rod correctly. He could feel your body tense for a second before you relaxed into him, your back against his chest. His breath hitched, but he focused on showing you what to do, trying to ignore the way his heart raced from being this close to you. He was whipped.

“Now, just flick it—gentle, like you’re barely trying” He guided your hands again, and this time, the line shot out farther into the water, just like his.

You grinned, looking over your shoulder at him, and he realized how close your faces were. Too close. His breath caught, but he didn’t move, didn’t pull away. He never did.

“See?” he muttered, “Told ya, you got it.”

“Only ‘cause you helped,” you said, voice was all soft and sweet, like honey.

Your eyes didn’t leave his, and he couldn’t look away if he tried. He could feel the warmth of you, smell the faint scent of your shampoo mixed with the lake air. He should’ve moved. He should’ve stepped back, given you space.

But he didn’t.

“Is this why you wanted to teach me how to fish? So you could feel me up?”

Rafe’s face flushed red, heat creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

“N-no,” he stammered, but it sounded lame even to him. He stepped back, giving you space like he was supposed to, scratching the back of his neck, trying to play it off like he wasn’t burning up inside. “I was just… y’know, teaching’ you how to cast. Not my fault if you can’t get it right on your own.”

You laughed, that soft, carefree sound that always messed him up, like you didn’t know you were punching way out of his league. You turned back to face the water, flicking the rod out again, and this time, it went far—farther than you expected, your excitement obvious as you glanced back at him.

“Look at that!” you said, grinning like you’d just won something. “I’m getting better.”

He laughed, “Told ya you could do it.”

He shouldn’t be there, shouldn’t be that close to you, shouldn’t want you the way he did. But there you were, fishing with him like it was normal. He sat back down beside you on the dock, pulling his cap lower over his eyes, trying to cool down and act like his heart wasn’t still racing. 

Rafe was feeling like his stomach was doing flips, and not the good kind. He wasn’t the type to get all worked up over stuff like this, but here he was, his hands sweaty, his heart racing like he just ran five miles.

You were sitting across from him now, looking all laid back and pretty, messing with that dumb bracelet he’d seen you wear a hundred times before, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what he was about to ask you.

You two had been sort of together, what, two months now? He didn’t know how to explain it, but every time he saw you, it was like a part of him just... calmed down. Like all the chaos in his head got a little quieter when you were around. And that scared the hell out of him.

He wasn’t the kinda guy to catch feelings. Hell, he’d spent most of his life trying to not feel stuff. It was easier that way. Safer. But there he was, that night, two months ago, sitting’ next to you on that fancy couch in your parents' house, kissing the living hell out of you. He couldn’t get you out of his system even if he tried.

And then he kissed you again, every day for that matter, for the next couple of months. Because, how could he not? You were perfect. His absolute dream girl. 

He shouldn’t want this so bad. Shouldn’t be sitting there trying to memorize the way you looked in that moment. And yet, here he was, listing off your favorite things in his head like it was his new obsession.

He thought about the way you’d light up when you’d talk about books. Not just any books, though. You had this thing for old, worn-out paperbacks, the ones that looked like they’d been through it. You said they felt like they had history, like every dog-eared page told its own story.

Then there were your playlists. He still couldn’t figure them out. You’d go from old-school classics like Fleetwood Mac or The Rolling Stones, then switch it up with some indie band no one had ever heard of. But it all fit you somehow—just a little bit all over the place, in the best way possible.

And sunsets. God, you could never resist a good sunset. Every time the sky turned even a hint of pink or gold, you were there, snapping pictures on your phone like it was your personal little piece of magic.

Rafe couldn’t explain it, but every time you were around, everything just felt easier. Like the mess in his head quieted down. And that scared him because it wasn’t supposed to be like that. Not for him.

It was like his brain had its own playlist, except instead of music, it was a loop of all the things you liked. It kinda freaked him out, how much space you were taking up in there. You didn’t even know, did you? How you had him twisted up like this. How you made the world around him feel like it wasn’t gonna fall apart any second. He wasn’t used to that.

He watched you flick the rod out again, more confident this time, and he couldn’t help but admire how determined you were. That’s another thing he loved—how you never gave up on stuff. You’d try something a hundred times until you got it right. Like the way you insisted on learning how to skate last month, even though you kept falling. You’d get back up every time, laughing like it didn’t even faze you. He liked that about you—how nothing seemed to scare you.

And then there was your laugh. That one killed him every time. It wasn’t just the sound of it; it was the way your whole face lit up when you laughed, like the world didn’t have a single problem. Like, for those few seconds, nothing could touch you.

He realized he’d been staring at you for way too long when you looked over at him, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” you asked, the corner of your mouth twitching into a little smirk.

Rafe blinked, shaking his head like he could shake the thoughts loose. “Nothin’”, he mumbled, feeling his face heat up again. 

Smooth, real smooth, he thought.

And then there was the way you loved the water.

Always dragging him down to the lake or the beach, talking about how the sound of waves crashing made everything else seem far away.

He never told you this, but he thought it was funny how you loved the water so much but were terrified of deep water.

You’d cling to him when you were in over your head, and yeah, he liked that way more than he probably should’ve.

He kept running through all the little things, trying to figure out when it happened—when he started catching feelings for you. When you shoved the food in his face? Offered him a warm shower and a bed? Was it when you forced him to watch that old movie, the one where you kept quoting all the lines before they happened? 

“Stop ogling me.”

Rafe's heart did that weird thing again, that stuttering, fluttering mess in his chest as you grinned at him, tossing that line out like you weren’t absolutely wrecking him from the inside.

He tried to act like he hadn’t been caught staring.

Again.

"Wasn't ogling," he muttered, feeling his face heat up. He shoved his hands in his pockets, looking out over the water like he wasn’t completely whipped. "Just thinkin’."

You shot him a side-eye, clearly not buying it. “Yeah? About what?”

You, he thought. Always you. 

“Just... life," he mumbled.

What was he supposed to say? That he’d been sitting here mentally cataloging all your favorite things like some lovesick idiot? That every time you smiled at him, it felt like the ground wasn’t so shaky anymore? He couldn’t just say that.

But he was starting to feel like he had to. Like it was gonna burst out of him if he didn’t tell you soon. You’d been messing with his head for months now—it was driving him insane.

"Y’know," he started, swallowing hard, not even sure how to say it, "I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? And what’s that?"

He scratched the back of his neck, feeling way too hot under that cool evening air. His voice came out rougher than he meant. "You. Us."

You froze for a second, that playful smile slipping just a little, but you didn’t say anything. You just waited. Always so patient just for him.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, rubbing the back of his neck like it could distract him from the fact that his heart was about to pound out of his chest.

"I—I like you, okay? I like you a lot." He looked down at his boots, then back at you, eyes searching your face for any sign of what you were thinking. "I know I’m not the best with... y’know, words and feelings and all that, but you—you’re different."

He stepped closer, the dock creaking under his boots, and he reached out, gently taking your hand. "You make all the noise in my head stop. I don’t know how to explain it, but when I’m with you... it’s just easier. Everything’s easier."

You blinked, your eyes wide, like you weren’t expecting that.

"M’ not good at this stuff," Rafe continued, his voice soft now, almost nervous. "But I wanna be better. For you. I wanna be the guy who makes you feel good, who makes you happy."

He hesitated, feeling like he was about to jump off a cliff. But he had to ask. He had to know.

"Will you—" he cleared his throat, his grip tightening just slightly on your hand. "Will you be my girlfriend?"

He wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable like this, like he was putting his heart out there and hoping you wouldn’t crush it. But for once, he didn’t care. He needed you to know how he felt, even if he was rough around the edges and still figuring it all out.

You looked at him for what felt like forever, and then, slowly, a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

You threw yourself at him, jumping into his arms with this burst of energy that caught him completely off guard. He stumbled back a step, barely catching you, his arms wrapping around your waist as you clung to him. Your face was buried in his neck, and that’s when he felt it—the dampness.

Hold on. Were you crying?

“Woah, baby,” he stammered, holding you tighter, but his heart started racing for a whole different reason now. “Did I—did I make you cry? Shit, did I mess this up already? I swear, I didn’t mean to freak you out or nothin’. I just—” He cut himself off, his words coming out fast and panicked. “I fuck up everything, don’t I?”

You pulled back just enough for him to see your face, and there were tears streaming down your cheeks, but you were smiling. Laughing, even, like he was being ridiculous, which only confused him more.

“No, no, oh my god,” you said, wiping at your cheeks, sniffling through your smile. “It’s—it’s happy tears, you dumbass.”

Rafe blinked, his brain not quite catching up with what you said. “Happy tears?” He looked at you like you’d just told him the sky was purple. “You’re cryin’ ‘cause you’re happy?”

You nodded, laughing as you brushed the tears away. “Yes, Rafe. I’m crying ‘cause I’m happy.”

Relief washed over him like a wave, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Oh.” He paused, then broke into this shy, crooked grin. “Okay. Good. ‘Cause for a second, I thought I messed up.”

You laughed again, your arms still around his neck as you leaned in closer.

“You didn’t mess up, not even a little.” Your voice was softer now, and you looked at him like he hung the moon or something. “You made me really, really happy.”

He never thought he’d be the guy to make someone happy, let alone you. He lifted his hand, gently brushing a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. 

“Didn’t know I had it in me,” he muttered, his voice low, almost shy.

“Well, you do,” you whispered, and before he could overthink it, you leaned in and kissed him—soft and sweet.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he couldn’t help but smile. “I guess I’ll just have to make you cry like this more often, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the way you looked at him, like he was more than just some rough-around-the-edges Pogue. His grin didn’t leave his face as he watched you wipe at the last of your happy tears, still a little stunned that he of all people had managed to make you feel like that. 

You were looking at him, a teasing glint in your eyes, but before you could even start talking again, he pulled you in closer, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Rafe,” you giggled, your voice muffled against his mouth. “Let me—”

“Nope,” he mumbled, cutting you off with another kiss, this one lingering a little longer. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you felt his smile against your lips. “Not done kissin’ you yet.”

You let out a breathy laugh, trying to speak between the kisses. “Rafe, seriously—”

But he wasn’t having it. He kissed you again, deeper this time, his lips soft but insistent, and you practically melted into him.

“Don’t care,” he muttered, his voice low and raspy against your mouth. “Got a lot of kissin’ to make up for.”

You tried to playfully shove him, but he just grinned and kissed you harder, not giving you a chance to get another word in. Every time you tried to pull back to say something, he’d tilt his head, his lips capturing yours before you could even think.

“You,” you tried again, your voice breathless between the stolen kisses, but he just chuckled, his hand slipping into your hair, tilting your head back slightly so he could kiss you deeper, “Kiss me every day.”

“Uh-uh,” he muttered, his lips trailing down to your jaw, making your head spin. “I don’t care.”

Your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, your breath hitching as he kissed along your neck.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, but your voice was softer now, less of a protest and more like you were completely caught up in the moment.

He pulled back just an inch, looking down at you with that lazy, crooked grin that made your heart skip a beat. “Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, his forehead resting against yours.

You rolled your eyes, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. 

“Maybe,” you said, pretending to play it cool. “But you still won’t let me talk.”

Rafe brushed his thumb along your jaw, his eyes tracing over your face like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“Sorry, baby,” he drawled, clearly not sorry at all. “But I’m tryin’ to make up for lost time here.”

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you again, his eyes were softer, more serious this time. “I mean it though,” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m real glad you’re mine.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling. “I’m glad too, Rafe,” you whispered, your fingers brushing against the back of his neck.

He grinned, leaning down to kiss you again, but this time, you were ready. You pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before his lips could reach yours. “Ah-ah,” you teased, a smirk on your face. “Not done talking yet.”

Rafe groaned, but the smile never left his face. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, his hands still resting on your waist. “Get your words out. I’ll give you, like, ten seconds.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes again. “You’re such a dumbass,” you said fondly, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” he agreed, leaning down just enough so his lips brushed against yours again, barely a whisper. “But I’m your dumbass now.”

“Hold on,” he nearly whined, pushing his forehead against yours with exaggerated impatience. “Does that mean you’ll accept the phone now? Actually, I was gonna say—since you’re so insistent on this whole ‘no phone’ thing—you should just take it.”

Rafe’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, you want me to take it? For real?”

You crossed your arms, giving him a look that said, "don’t push it." “Yeah, obviously.”

“But—"

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the truth was written all over your face. “Please? It would make me worry less.”

He stood there for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was still mulling it over, but then he let out a breath, stepping closer to you.

“Fine,” he said, his voice softer this time. “I’ll take it. But only ‘cause you asked so damn sweet.”

Taking the stupid phone meant accepting that you cared, that you wanted him in your life in more ways than just this. And while it scared him, it also made something bloom in his chest, something unfamiliar but good.

He found himself staring at the screen like it was some kind of foreign object.

“Now you have no excuse not to text me back,” you teased, nudging him gently with your shoulder.

His face softened as he glanced at you. “Guess I don’t.”

You gave him a playful shove, and he caught your wrist, pulling you close again before you could get too far. His arms wrapped around your waist, and he rested his chin on the top of your head, breathing you in.

For a moment, the world felt still. Peaceful.

But then, like a cruel twist of fate, he heard a voice—one that made his blood run cold and his heart sink. He turned his head, and there she was. His mom, if he could call her that. Her face was gaunt, lined with the weariness of someone who’d been through too much, but that didn’t make it any easier to see her.

“What the hell?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He felt the protective instinct flare up, not just for himself but for you, too. He didn’t want her anywhere near you. Not now. Not ever.

She ruined everything she touched.

“I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you,” she said, her voice cracking with a mix of desperation and anger. “I need to talk to you.”

His jaw tightened. “What do you want, mom?”

Her eyes softened for a split second before that familiar hardness came back. “Come back, okay? I didn’t mean to—”

“Come back?” he let out a breathy sarcastic laugh, “You serious?’ Nah, not after you kicked me out, not after all the shit I had to deal with. You got no right to come here and act like you care now.”

Her face twisted in pain, and for a moment, he saw the woman he used to know when he was a kid. But it was quickly gone. “You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you? You think you’ve got it all figured out?”

He didn’t want to scare you off.

“Aww hell,” Rafe muttered, rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to keep the anger from takin' over. His hand tightened on your waist, like he needed to feel you there, grounding him. “I’m not doin' this with you. Not here. Not now.”

You stayed quiet, your fingers lightly brushing his arm, feeling the tension building' in him. He glanced at you, and for a second, you could see the rage contained in him, he was trying' to hold it back for your sake.

“Rafe, I didn’t have a choice. You don’t understand what it’s like—”

“I don’t understand?” he barked, his voice rough, like he was barely holding’ it together. “Nah, you don’t get it. You never did.” He took a step back, almost like he needed to put space between himself and her poison. “M’ gonna stand here and let you guilt-trip me. You threw me out like I was trash.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could get another word in. “I got someone now. Someone who gives a damn 'bout me. And I’m not lettin’ you mess that up.”

His mom’s eyes flicked to you, and there was this flash of something’—jealousy, regret, maybe both.

She huffed, her shoulders dropping’. “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Rafe. I just... I need help. I don’t got nobody left.” Her voice cracked, and for a second, it almost sounded real.

But Rafe wasn’t buying it. He was done being manipulated. He was tired of her games, she was sick and she needed help, and if she didn’t want to be helped, there was nothing he could do for her. 

“Yeah, well, I’m fresh outta help,” he said coldly, then turned back to you, his hand reaching for yours, like he was trying' to remind himself that he was better off now.

A familiar figure stepped out from behind her beated up car—her boyfriend, fucking Tony. His gut twisted the second he saw him with same smug look plastered across his face, strutted toward them like he owned the place.

"Well, ain't this a cute little reunion," Tony sneered, his eyes lingering on you for just a second too long. Rafe's grip on your hand tightened painfully, and you felt the muscles in his arm tense like he was ready to snap.

Tony’s attention slid back to him, but not before taking another slow look at you. “You picked yourself up a pretty little thing, huh?” He licked his lips, and Rafe's vision tunneled.

In that instant, everything around him went quiet.

The world could have been on fire, but all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart. The red-hot rage that he'd been holding in for so long, the anger he tried to keep locked down, was hanging on the edge. Every part of him screamed to beat the living shit out of him, to make him regret every second he spent breathing the same air as you.

“Watch your goddamn mouth,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth, like he was seconds away from losing control. “Look at her like that again, and I swear to fucking God, I’ll make sure you can’t look at anything ever again.”

You squeezed his hand, letting him know you were there, that he didn’t have to do this alone. His mom stood there, not standing up for either of them as usual, like she was waiting for him to change his mind, but when he didn’t, she shook her head and walked away, mumbling’ something' under her breath. She didn’t even put up a fight for him, how typical.

They’d probably run out of money to feed off. 

Tony raised his hands, feigning innocence, but the smirk never left his face. “Easy there, kid. I’m just sayin’. No need to get all riled up.”

Rafe took a step forward, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. You could feel his emotions radiating off him in waves, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he fought to keep himself in check. You placed your hand on his chest, feeling his heart hammering beneath your fingers.

"Rafe, let it go," you whispered, trying to pull him back before things went too far. But it was like he couldn’t hear you anymore.

Tony chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying the way he was getting under his skin. “Guess the apple don’t fall too far from the tree, huh? Just like your momma—quick to anger, quick to screw things up. Look at you, following in her footsteps.”

“You have five seconds to walk away before I call the police,” You all but announced.

“You think you’re some big man now, huh?” Tony still taunted, ignoring you, his voice dripping with condescension. “Got a pretty girl on your arm, a fresh start, but you’re still the same angry little boy. You ain't gonna change—”

You didn’t even let him finish. Your hand was already in your pocket, pulling out your phone.

You weren’t going to let this escalate.

"Enough," you snapped firmly, holding up your phone so both Tony and Rafe could see it. You turned your back slightly to Rafe, giving him a moment to breathe and calm down as you dialed the number.

Tony’s cocky smirk dropped for a split second when he realized what you were doing. “Oh, what, calling for backup?” he sneered, but you could tell he wasn’t as confident as he had been.

“No, I’m calling the police. My dad’s a well-known attorney. He knows exactly how to deal with people like you.”

Rafe hadn't even realized what you were doing at first.

You didn’t take your eyes off Tony as you raised the phone to your ear. “Hi, yes, I’d like to report an incident,” you began, your tone professional, all business. “There’s a man harassing us, and he’s trespassing on private property. We’re at the docks, near the edge of Seabrook Avenue.”

Tony’s face turned a shade paler, his eyes darting between you and Rafe. “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute—let’s not do anything rash here,” he stammered, clearly realizing that the game had changed. The cocky attitude evaporated in the face of actual consequences, “I’ll leave.”

“Then start walking,” You threatened, phone still in your ear.

“All right, all right,” Tony muttered, “No need to get the cops involved. I’m leavin’.”

He cast one last glare at Rafe, then turned on his heel, stalking back toward the car.

You kept the phone to your ear, your voice low and professional as you continued speaking to the operator, making sure Tony didn’t have any second thoughts. His mom gave Rafe one last, but still said nothing. She followed Tony back to the car, and within moments, they were driving off, disappearing down the road.

As soon as they were out of sight, you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. You hung up the phone, turning back to Rafe, who was still standing there, staring at the empty spot where the car had been. His shoulders were tense, his jaw tight, but there was this brokenness in his eyes that made you want to bawl your eyes out.

You stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

 “Hey,” you whispered, your voice soft now, “They’re gone.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair, like he was trying' to shake off the whole encounter.

“Sorry 'bout that,” he muttered, his voice a little hoarse. “I didn’t mean for all that to happen. Not in front of you.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to apologize. I’m here for you, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms again, holding' you like you were the only good thing in his world. “Thanks for not running,” he muttered into your hair, “Most people would’ve bailed by now.”

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. “I’m not most people, Rafe.”

“Clearly. You’re better.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and even with all the crap that had just gone down, you could see he was startin’ to relax a little. “You’re stuck with me now,” you teased lightly, tryin' to lift the mood. “No more excuses, remember?”

How did you have him under your spell in such a short amount of time? He felt delirious.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your hand resting lightly on his chest, feeling his heartbeat still thudding hard beneath your fingers.

“Are you really okay?”

For a second, he didn’t answer, just stared down at you, like he was trying’ to figure out how much to let you in. His jaw tightened, and he looked away, running a hand through his hair again, like he was still trying’ to shake off the whole encounter with his mom.

“I-I don’t know,” he muttered finally, his voice low, rough. “I mean… I’m used to her being’ like this, y’know? It isn’t nothing new.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “But it still messes me up every time.”

You reached up, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes, your fingers lingering on his cheek. “You don’t have to act like it’s not a big deal. It’s okay to not be okay.”

His eyes flicked back to yours, and for a moment, the walls he kept up so tight seemed to crack a little. He swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbin’, like he was trying to push down all the emotions that were building up.

“I just… I hate that she still gets to me,” he admitted quietly, “After everything, I should be able to just… forget about her. But I can’t.”

You tightened your grip on his hand, letting him know you weren’t goin’ anywhere.

“You’re not weak for feelin’ like that,” you said gently. “She’s your mom, Rafe. It’s natural to want her to care, even after all she’s done.”

He closed his eyes for a second, takin' in your words, like he was tryin’ to let them sink in. When he opened them again, they were softer, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen them.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said, his voice low, almost like he was talking’ more to himself than to you. 

You felt him tense up under your touch, and it hit you—he was scared. He’d already cried once, already let you see that part of him that he usually kept locked up tight. Now, he was trying to pull it together, to show you he was strong, that he wasn’t some broken kid. But deep down, you knew he was still hurting, still carrying’ all that pain his mom dumped on him.

“Because I see you. Not the mess, not the baggage. Just you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes flicking’ away again, like he couldn’t handle looking at you right now. “I don’t want you feeling’ like you gotta fix me or something’. I’m not a charity case.”

“You already know how I feel about you saying that.”

For a second, it looked like he might shut down again, like he was going to retreat behind that hard shell of his. But then, he sighed, shoulders sagging a little as he let some of that defensiveness go.

“I just don’t wanna be that guy,” he muttered, almost to himself. “The one who’s always leanin' on someone, cryin' about his problems. I already did that once, and…”

“And what?” you asked, “You think it made me see you any different?”

 “You didn’t see me like some... weak-ass loser? Bein’ all emotional and shit?”

You shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. “No, Rafe. I saw someone who’s been through hell and still manages to keep going. That doesn’t make you weak. It makes you strong.”

He was quiet for a moment, takin’ in your words, his brow furrowing’ like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. Then, finally, he let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing' just a little. “You make it so hard for me to push you away.”

You raised an unimpressed brow, “Would you like to push your girlfriend away? Because I can walk—"

“Kidding,” He protested, pulling you back the moment you attempt to move, “Jesus Christ. Can’t even make a joke. You’re not going anywhere,” he muttered, like a prayer “Not now. Not ever.”

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth in his words made you smile against his chest. “Oh yeah?” you teased. “That a promise?”

He chuckled, his hand stroking your back in slow, calming circles. “Damn right it is,” he whispered, his voice low, almost like a vow. “I don’t care what happens, I’m not letting you go. You’re stuck with me now.”