#Just that what she says about him matters in terms of intent | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovelivision · 10 days ago

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THE COMPLEX ✧₊

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: fushiguro toji/reader

𝐖𝐂: 9.7k

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after you catch your ex cheating on you in your shared apartment, you run into your mysterious neighbour. surprisingly, you find a friendship in him you weren't expecting. he's especially handy in helping you put together your new bed frame

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ only, smut, swearing, cheating (not by reader or toji), flirting, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v sex, mating press, dacryphilia, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, creampie, cum play, tease!toji, f!reader

Coming home after a long day of work is something that should bring you joy but as you cross the threshold of the apartment you share with your boyfriend; you know something is wrong. The abrupt cut off of what sounded like moans followed by frantic shuffling doesn’t give you much of a chance to think the best of him.

Already knowing what’s coming, you begin looking for your suitcase you have stored away. Checking the linen cupboard in the hall first and pulling it out, dragging it behind you when your – soon to be – ex-boyfriend leaves your shared room.

“You’re home early!” He looks nervous, like he can’t tell if he’s been caught or not yet. He’s about to say something else when his eyes flick to the suitcase you pulled out of the cupboard, “Going on a trip or something?” The chuckle he lets out is awkward and off-putting.

Ignoring his question, you walk past him wordlessly, pushing towards your bedroom, you just want to pack as much of your shit as you can manage and get out of here.

He rushes to get in front of you, stopping you from entering the room, “Why won’t you say anything?”

“What do you expect me to say?” You look at him with nothing but apathy, giving him no chance to pull a fast one on you, “You want me to scream? Cry maybe? Beg you to tell me all the dirty little details?”

“I expect you to care at least a little bit! Ask me why, how long, anything!” His voice raises at you, like he has any right to be mad.

“Those kinds of questions give you hope that I’ll stay,” your hand reaches for the door handle behind him, “And I have no intention of staying,” walking forward in spite of him blocking you, forcing him to either move or stop you.

Acquiescing, he lets you pass him. There is no shock when you’re confronted with the half-naked girl in your bed, the bed you bought – he can keep it. It’s also no shock to see she’s someone your boyfriend works with, what was it again? His work wife? No matter how many times you mentioned that her clinginess and his unwillingness to set boundaries made you uncomfortable he never did anything to make you feel better.

Maybe if you had been paying more attention to him, if you hadn’t checked out of the relationship months ago, you would’ve been able to stop him from cheating. Then again, if you have to stop someone from cheating they aren’t worth your time.

You’d consider saying something to her but there isn’t anything that wouldn’t be a waste of breath, not when she’s sat so smugly wrapped in your favourite sheets. She’s proud of herself and you just can’t seem to comprehend why, the prize she won is some loser who was willing to cheat on his long-term girlfriend.

The suitcase in your hand is thrown onto the bed haphazardly, she startles at the bounce in the mattress, like you were going to hurt her or something. That’s something you find amusing, smile small as you tug open the zipper calmly.

Your boyfriend follows you around the room as you pick up all the necessities you can fit, “Are you seriously just going to leave like this?”

Without looking at him you answer, “Yeah.”

“Why won’t you even try and fight for me?” He sounds desperate and angry.

Pausing, you look him straight in the eyes, “Because I don’t want you.”

“No wonder he cheated on you,” his work wife scoffs from the bed, finally pulling herself out of it, rushing off to the bathroom to change. The speed in which she leaves the room after her comment almost makes you chuckle, like she’s still scared you’ll hurt her.

“Don’t you love me?” He pleads, ignoring her comment.

Instead of answering, you turn it back on him, “Did you love me while you were fucking her?” You don’t wait for his reply, going back to your suitcase.

“Of course I did,” he cements, like he means it, and hell maybe he does but just because he means it doesn’t change what he did.

“Why are you so surprised?” You pull the zip closed and tug everything off the bed, looking at him in exasperation, “I told you that cheating is a deal breaker for me, it always has been, and it always will be, so stop acting so incensed or like I blindsided you with this reaction.”

He glares at you harshly, like he’s the wronged party here, “I thought you would care more.”

“You thought wrong,” it’s taking a lot to continue this façade of indifference, and while you certainly don’t feel as effected as some would, it still hurts, you’re still livid, but mostly you’re tired.

“I never realised how much of a cold-hearted bitch you were,” his tone is cold, words cutting through you sharply.

Sighing at him, you say, “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff later this week, if any of it’s missing or damaged I’ll be calling the cops.�� Grabbing your handbag, you walk to the front door, suitcase rolling behind you, “Just in case this wasn’t clear enough, I’m breaking up with you.”

“You haven’t even let me say anything,” he’s almost frantic, like he’s stunned by your verbalisation of the breakup. “Wait, don’t leave! We can talk about this can’t we?”

Pulling the door open, you don’t look back, “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Your steps in the hallway of the building are rushed, worried that he’s going to follow you. Finger pressing into the elevator call button quickly like that will make it come quicker. It opens just as the door to your apartment does and you feel your heart rate spike, thumb slamming into the ‘door close’ symbol.

Foot tapping impatiently on the floor as you wait for it to reach the lobby, hoping you get there before him. The fact he can switch so quickly between calling you a cold-hearted bitch and begging you to stay is chilling, just who were you living with for all these years.

When the elevator dings you’re so caught up in your thoughts that you jump slightly and then you haul ass, going for the front door before thinking better of it. If he really does intend on coming after you then it might be better to go out the back.

The back of the building is a grimy alley and while you’d really rather not go back there, you’d really rather not run into your ex more, so grimy alley it is. It’s a struggle to open the door with your handbag on your shoulder and suitcase in your other hand. You manage it though, it’s just unfortunate that when you start down the steps you stumble slightly as your suitcase wheel gets caught on one of the stairs, your handbag falls to the floor as you struggle to catch yourself on the railing.

You’re pissed off and grumbly as you pull on your suitcase forcefully, “Just my fucking luck, God, what an awful fucking night. These stupid fucking stairs, always hated it back here–”

A short chuckle sounds from behind and it scares the hell out of you. Spinning around quickly and placing a hand over your racing heart, you see it’s just your neighbour. You’ve seen him in the hall a few times, never saying more than a friendly hello and quick nod of acknowledgement.

He seemed polite enough, you would’ve gotten to know him better, but your ex had told you to stay away from him. Making claims like he was dangerous and bad news; you don’t know if you ever believed him, but he clearly felt some type of way about you being friendly with him, so you kept your distance. Mostly out of respect for your relationship and your partners boundaries but that’s a little bit ironic now, after tonight.

Your neighbour is all too amused when he apologies for obviously frightening you, “Sorry, doll, didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Turning your back on him and leaning down to your bag, you acknowledge his apology, “It’s fine,” you’re trying to be polite but you’re still in a foul mood.

“Need any help?” He offers when he sees you struggling to put everything back in your handbag. Head tilted as he checks out your ass in your tight work skirt before realising he’s staring and looking away before you can notice.

“No.” You answer without looking up, though it comes out harsher than you mean for it to, clearing your throat lightly, you add, “No, I can manage, thank you though.”

His tongue clicks, “What are you doing in this alley, shouldn’t you be going out the front?”

Without missing a beat, you turn the question back on him, “What are you doing in this alley?” Finally standing and raising to look pointedly back at him, handbag placed precariously on top of your suitcase.

Wordlessly, he takes a drag of the cigarette you hadn’t noticed he was smoking, blowing the smoke off to the side, away from you. His smile too big when he notices how your expression twists in slight embarrassment when realising his very obvious reason for being back here.

“You gonna tell me why you’re back here or are you going for some kind of mysterious woman vibe?” He’s glib, annoyingly so.

But attractive, in an irritating kind of way, the kind of way that pisses you off because how dare he be that hot and also be looking at you like that.

Your reply is straightforward, “It’s not a mystery, you’re just a stranger.”

“Cranky little thing aren’t ya?” Smirking to himself when he mentions your bad mood, like it’s so funny.

That pisses you off, you were trying so hard to be polite to him and while you were failing, you were trying, “Listen here mister ‘I’m so handsome I can get away with being an annoying asshole to strangers–’.”

“–Toji.”

You fumble slightly, taken aback by his interruption, “What?”

“That’s my name,” he looks pleased with himself for throwing you off. It’s like he’s trying to win an award for annoying you.

Frowning, you brush him off and continue on your mini tirade, “Right, well, I have had an especially foul evening and the last thing I need after walking in on my boyfriend cheating on me, is some dick telling me I’m awfully cranky. I think I should be crankier actually!”

He huffs out an amused breath at your frustrated rant, “Normally you give your name back after someone’s offered theirs.”

You squint at him, scrutinising his person. Hesitating in answering him but ultimately you give him your name, not seeing the harm in it.

It’s like he mulls it over, smiling to himself before saying unprompted, “A damn shame to see you go, doll.”

“I’m so sure,” you snark back.

Taking a step forward, you go to leave the alley, but he speaks again, “I got one question though…”

Stopping in your tracks, you turn to face him properly, hand propped on your hip, “And what’s that?”

“Why are you the one leaving?” His head tilts at you.

You don’t know why, but you decide to answer him, “It was his place first,” you shuffle from side to side, “Plus I’m not particularly fond of the fact that they’ve potentially fucked in every square inch of that place…”

He barks a short laugh at your statement, “You know… if you were my girlfriend,” he leans in towards you, “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Yeah that means so much to me mysterious neighbour who I’ve never spoken more than a few words to in passing,” you deadpan back at him.

There’s an entertained look on his face as he eyes you up and down, grinning to himself before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Your foot taps impatiently while you wait for him to say more, he looks like he wants to say more but the longer it takes him to talk the more you’re not fully convinced he has anything to say. Puffing, you turn to walk off, only to get stopped by his words, again.

“You got a place to stay?”

Your brow raises at him, “Yeah… I do.”

He shrugs, “That’s too bad.”

“Stop flirting with me! I literally just found out my ex of many years has been cheating on me,” frown prominent on your face as you accuse him adeptly of hitting on you.

His shoulders shake with a chuckle, “The first time I’ve gotten to say more than a few words to you in passing, just making the most of it.”

Something clicks for you, “Now I see why my ex didn’t like you very much.”

“And why’s that?” He’s smug when he asks.

“He’s insecure and you’re very clearly a flirt.”

Unbothered, he answers simply, “Not usually, you just so happen to be my type.”

You click your tongue, caught between shocked and completely unsurprised by him, “Awfully blunt aren’t you?”

Toji smiles at you as he takes another drag, blowing the smoke away quickly, “If you want someone there when you’re picking up the rest of your shit from that jackasses place, feel free to knock on my door,” he follows up his statement with a wink, dropping his smoke and stomping it out. He’s walking to the door, adding, “Stay safe out there, doll. I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

How presumptuous of him, he’s such an ass, and just as you go to tell him as such, he’s closing the door and presumably going back up to his apartment. Your face scrunches as you think of all the things you could’ve said to him and at the things you shouldn’t have said to him. He didn’t need to know all about your relationship like that… tonight just keeps getting worse for you.

At least you wasted enough time that if your ex did follow you down like he seemed he was going to, he’s probably left by now.

✮.

Staying with your friends is uncomfortable, they’re dating and happy and you’re sour about it. Their displays of affection are prompting you to get into motion though, finding a reasonably cheap place to live fairly quick. Fuelled by nothing but bitterness and a sickening feeling like you’ve wasted too much time with your ex.

The next step is going back to that apartment and collecting more of your valuables, having left behind a bunch of things that would’ve been too much of a hassle to grab in the moment. Taking a day off work and borrowing your friends’ car is the move, aiming to go while the place is empty.

It’s still going to be a bit of work moving stuff from the apartment down to the car and your friends can’t take the day off to help. As much as you feel uncertain about it, you might ask Toji for help, he offered after all.

By the time you’re finally heading back to that apartment complex it’s been a few days, not having felt ready enough to come back any sooner. It’s funny how everything about the building is the same and yet you feel so different about it all now, it doesn’t feel like home anymore. There’s no warmth here, just another cold place that one day you’ll pass and not feel a tug in your heart over.

Nerves run through you as you stand in front of Toji’s door, uncertainty sitting heavy in your chest. Maybe he wasn’t genuinely offering, or what if he’s busy, or what if he’s not even home. You’re stupid, you didn’t even consider that he might not be home today, feeling flustered you ultimately don’t knock on his door.

Entering your now old apartment feels odd, most of your stuff is still here but you feel detached from the place. Amazing how a few days can change your outlook so drastically. Thankfully it doesn’t look like he touched any of your things, though you never really had all that much to begin with.

It was his apartment first and a lot of the furniture is his or was bought by the two of you together. Aside from the bed but that’s just because he didn’t want to pay for a new one. If you’re being honest, it never even felt like your place. You lived here and you called it home, but it doesn’t look lived in by you. After a while you stopped trying to buy trinkets and decorations for the place, he never seemed to like them. Always leaving you feeling like it was his place first and a shared home second.

You guess, at some point, it stopped being noticeable but as you stand here now and look through your belongings, you’re realising you really do not have all that much. Whatever you take will hardly make a dent in the large ocean of his belongings, poetic in a way. You’re a small part of him but he was a large part of you.

Grimacing at your own thoughts you move on, not wanting to start feeling those emotions in fear of crying. Instead sourcing the boxes you kept from your initial move in, you tape them back into shape. It’s been so long they look weak and old; time has not been kind to either of you it seems.

On your trips back and forth from the apartment to the car, you pointedly ignore Toji’s door, not wanting to linger on thoughts of him either. It embarrassing that you told a stranger that much about your life and then was willing to have him help you move out. Though he had big arms… he’d probably be really helpful.

This whole thing is taking longer than you thought it would, your arms growing tired from each trip. As you look at one of the few boxes you have left, you wonder if it’s even worth it. Most of what’s in these are clothes or the few decorative trinkets you own.

No, he doesn’t get to keep any part of you. Not the parts that were solely you anyways, he can keep those fucking sheets. Picking up the box, you trudge out the door for what feels like the billionth time. Not able to help the frustration in your steps as you stomp out into the hallway.

Just as you’re about to pass by Toji’s door, your box splits underneath and your things spill out. Thankfully it only really has some clothes in it, but you clearly overfilled it, too heavy for the poor old cardboard. Letting it drop to the floor; all you can do is look at the pile of clothes.

A deep sigh pulls from your lungs and your eyes brim with tears, you’ve yet to cry about this all but your box breaking feels like the last straw. Fighting your tears off desperately and failing as they drip down your cheeks.

Your voice is small when you mumble a tiny, “I hate everything.”

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump, apparently out of it enough to not hear someone leave their apartment and approach you. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised when you look and see Toji, but you are, feeling a little confused at the small amount of relief that runs through you at seeing him.

His tone is careful when he asks, “You okay, doll?” Like he’s actually worried about you.

And maybe it’s because he’s the first person to properly ask you that, or because his hand is warm and large against your shoulder or maybe it’s just because he’s here, you move to hug him. Realising now just how alone you feel, desiring comfort from him.

He doesn’t push you back, instead he wraps his arms around you and lets you soak a portion of his shirt in your tears. A kindness you don’t think you’d expect from someone who looks – or quite frankly – acts like him.

Mumbling in his shirt, “Sorry…” Before pulling back, “I’m okay… sorry.”

“You apologised twice,” he notes.

“Sorry…”

An amused look on his face at your third apology, his thumb reaching up to wipe at the tear on your cheek before speaking again, “Your box broke.”

“I know, it made me cry.”

“Don’t cry over spilt clothes.”

Somehow that poor joke has you cracking a small smile, “Very wise of you.”

“I’m full of that shit,” he moves for your box, letting all the clothes spill onto the floor, “Wisdom.”

“You sure you’re not just full of shit?”

“Ah there’s the girl I met the other night,” Flipping the box upside down, he scoops up your clothes and shoves them inside again.

Realising he’s picking up after you, you tell him, “I can do that.”

“I’m sure you can,” he picks up the box easily, resting it over one forearm as he moves for his apartment door.

“Hey! Where do you think you’re taking my stuff?”

“Finders keepers,” his tone even.

“Hey?!” You call after him, following him into his apartment.

It’s a mirror image of yours, furnishing a bit boring but befitting of what you assume is a single man. Toji drops the box of your clothes onto the floor by the front door, pushing it off to the side.

His words interrupt your snooping from afar, “How many more boxes you got?”

“Uh, only a couple,” you blink up at him, still lost on what’s he’s doing.

He hums at you, “Come on.”

“What?” You’re then following him back out of his apartment and over to yours, he walks in like he’s been invited. Flustered and confused as you hurry along behind him, “Toji, what are you doing?”

“You used my name,” you can hear the smile in his voice, “Almost made me blush, doll,” he teases back at you.

Purposefully not indulging his flirting, “Shut up, why are we over here?”

“Grabbing the rest of your shit, put it at my place before that dick gets home,” he stacks the last two boxes on top of each other, smaller than the box that had your clothes in it. Picking them up with ease, he walks past you, “Could ya get the door for me?”

Mindlessly, you open the door. Why is he doing this for you? “Toji–”

“Do a once over and check you got everything,” he nods back at you, “Don’t take too long though, he gets home from work soon.”

He walks off before you can say anything, so you decide to do what he said. Checking the apartment all over to make sure you got everything you wanted, you were right earlier, your stuff barely made a dent. When you’re satisfied you’ve got everything, you go to walk out the front door, pausing at a note taped to the wall by it.

Not noticing it with your view being obscured by large boxes every time you walked by it, that and you’ve been a bit distracted all day. It’s obviously written by your ex, you’re half tempted to just ignore it but you’re nosy and want to know what he’s said.

It reads a simple: ‘please don’t leave me, it was a mistake. I love you’. Underwhelming to say the least, it doesn’t even move you. If anything, you feel pissed the fuck off. How dare he spit a bunch of bullshit, you’re not stupid, the day you caught them was certainly not the first time they’d fucked here. It was written all over that woman’s face, she was smug, like she’d finally got what she’d wanted by you finding out.

For a quiet moment, you consider writing something back to him, or burning the note, or even just ripping it up. But you’re choosing to leave it there, maybe he’ll wonder if you saw it and maybe he’ll always be unsatisfied as to whether or not you’d have stayed if you had. Maybe he doesn’t deserve closure, maybe he deserves nothing more of you.

You’re getting bored thinking about him, this relationship had already been on its way out, you just didn’t have the guts to leave him for seemingly no reason. Pretending like you didn’t see his shitty note, you lock up the place and take the key off your key chain. Slipping it under the door before walking over to Toji’s.

Looking at his door, you consider if you should knock or walk in. It feels wrong to enter someone’s home unannounced though, even if they did kind of hijack some of your belongings and stash them in their house. Feeling too uncomfortable to simply walk in, you knock, waiting patiently for him to open it.

When he opens the door he leans against the frame of it with his forearm, “I left it open for ya.”

“It’s rude to enter without an invitation,” you say obviously.

He points out, “Didn’t stop ya earlier.”

“You stole my clothes!” You defend.

A chuckle leaves him, “Get in,” he holds the door wider for you.

Pausing, you check first, “You’re not gonna kill me or something are you?”

“A sweet lil’ thing like you?” His smile is big and flirtatious, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of yourself,” rolling your eyes as you walk past him and into his apartment.

The door swings closed behind you, Toji watching you shuck of your shoes, “Nope.”

Standing up and turning back to him, you mumble a small, “Thanks for helping me… and sorry… for crying on you.”

He pouts at you in thought, a hum leaving as an acknowledgment of what you’ve said. “You want some tea?”

You’re taken aback by his sudden offer, “Oh… uh… sure, that’d be nice.”

“Sit wherever,” he waves his hand around aimlessly at the few seating options he has.

Cautiously, you navigate around his apartment, unsure of yourself in here. You’ve only just met him and he’s being so kind, the fact he’s a stranger a more obvious fact when you’re in his home. You hesitate for a moment before taking a seat on his couch, gazing out the window while he clanks around in the kitchen.

Finding yourself wishing you’d put more effort into knowing him, he seems kind, though with how he flirts with you it’s probably better you didn’t. His footsteps are padded as they approach you, his slippers dragging against the floorboards. The tea he’s made for you is placed on the coffee table across from you, along with another he’d made for himself.

With no grace, he flops down beside you, his head leaning back against the couch. He doesn’t seem to have very good manners, his frame spread wide, sitting closer to you than most people probably would.

After a moment, he comments, “All the furniture was still in that place.”

You guess he’s referring to your apartment, “Yeah…”

��Gonna have an empty new apartment.”

“Yeah,” you reach for your tea, “It’ll all be me though.”

His head turns to look at you, “I’d like to see it.”

You smile into your mug, “You trying to say you wanna see my new place when I move in?”

“I think I should be the first person to see it.”

Taking a quick sip, you place the mug back down on the table, still a bit too hot, “And why should you get such a high honour?”

“Because you ruined my shirt by crying into it–”

“I did not ruin your–”

“And because you’ll need someone to help with all your new and big furniture,” he smiles at you like he knows he’s right, all smug and attractive.

Being serious for a moment, you enquire, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

“Isn’t it obvious,” you shake your head at him and his smile grows, “I’m hoping to get into your pants.”

Your face pulls up at him and you push him away by his shoulder, “You’re pathetic.”

“Yeah, but you’re hot and single,” he barely moves at your pushing.

You continue to frown at him, “You have to help with my furniture now, after being so lecherous.”

You’re only joking but he answers as if you weren’t, “Whatever you say, doll,” he smiles arrogantly, like he knows he’s won you over, even if it’s just a little bit.

✮.

The new place is nice, smaller than your last but it’s a good size for you. It’s only been a few days since you moved in though, so your ‘bed’ has been a mattress on the floor and your living room has a sad looking bean bag instead of a proper couch. It’s strikingly bare in here but it’s all yours and you get to decorate to your hearts content, you just wish you had the funds to buy to your hearts content.

Your first big purchase has been a bed frame, deeming it the most necessary. A couch will probably go second and then a place for eating and a desk and… there is so much more furniture you need. Things that can all wait, nothing will bring down your mood. You’re feeling good, your bed frame came today and you’re going to put it together and have the best sleep ever tonight.

…

Premature optimism will be your downfall, you felt pretty good about assembling this altogether yourself. But now after having tried to put this stupid bedframe together for an hour or maybe more all the confidence you had in yourself has been drained. Sitting on the floor of your bedroom, instructions and bits of your bed in front of you, mattress pushed up against the wall and out the way, you have been defeated.

Happy thoughts, all happy thoughts, you can have it together before it’s time for bed… surely… Maybe this is more of a two-person job, you should’ve asked for help. Checking the time you see it’s late afternoon, is it too late in the day to call Toji and ask for his help. You ponder on it for a second before deciding you’re calling him; you want to sleep in an actual bed tonight. Plus, if you don’t get it together tonight, you’ll be sleeping on the mattress out in the living room and that just feels wrong.

The line only rings a couple times before he’s picking up, “Was wondering how long it’d take ya to call me, doll.”

“Don’t be smug, it makes it harder for me to ask for your help,” you roll your eyes despite him not being able to see you.

It’s scary how accurate he is in asking, “Taking me up on my offer to help with your furniture?”

“Is the offer still good?”

“For you?” he hums, “Always.”

He may be the biggest flirt you’ve ever met, “Then yes… I’d like your help, please.”

His smile can be heard down the line, “Those are nice manners you got there.”

“Shut up, just get here,” you hang up on him and text your address, he’s going to tease you plenty when he gets here, you don’t need sneak previews.

Though you are thankful you have his number, having already exchanged short messages back and forth. Sometimes you’ve even talked on the phone with him, you get a bit lonely and it’s nice to be able to call him. He’s not overly talkative but he will listen to you carry on about nothing and you like that in a man. Embarrassingly though, you tend to bring up just about anything so you can keep talking to him for a bit longer.

By the time Toji is in your apartment, you’re feeling down, having tried for a bit after the call to try and assemble it at least a little bit before he got here and failing. The pair of you look at the mess on the floor of your bedroom, his hands on his hips as his brow quirks at the sight. You feel small next to him, humiliated by just how badly you’ve done.

His head turns to the side, “Doll… what the hell am I looking at?”

“My new bed,” you pout back at him.

“You sure?” He double checks.

You’re glaring at him, “Yes. I’m sure.”

His head shakes at you, “Should’ve just called me from the beginning.”

“Well maybe I thought I could do it myself.”

“And look how that turned out.”

You whine at him, “You said you were gonna help.”

“And I will,” he places a hand on top of your head, leaning down, “I just gotta mock you first.”

“Is it out of your system yet?”

A beat before, “Probably not.”

Ignoring him, you offer, “Do you want a drink?”

He pats your head a couple times, “Quite the little host, aren’t ya?”

Your answer is dry, “No drink for you, got it.”

A laugh leaves him at your quickness, clearly enjoying the back and forth the two of you have. “Alright I’ll have your bed together quick; I don’t even know how you managed to fuck it up this bad.”

“Unnecessarily cruel,” you note.

Throwing a smile at you, he reaches for the instructions and glances over them for a moment before letting them float down to the ground. He’s clearly confident in his ability to put the bed together.

And to be fair, he had good reason to be confident. He gets it all assembled easily, barely needing your help save for a few moments where you had to hold something. Mostly, you felt like you were just there to watch him, and you found yourself not minding at all, he looked good.

As the mattress slides into place on the new frame, he gives you a helping hand in making the bed. Putting all the appropriate linens back on, including fresh sheets. It’s beautiful, all ready for you to sleep in, to think you almost cried about this a couple hours ago. The frame itself is nothing special but you’re feeling so much joy over something so simple.

“Thank you so much, Toji,” if it were physically possible, you’d have hearts in your eyes right now.

“More than welcome, doll,” he winks at you, “Want help breaking it in?”

“Okay.”

“What?” He asks again, like he’s not sure he heard you right.

“Okay, you can help me break it in,” when he doesn’t move, you ask, “Toji?”

“Hold on, I wasn’t expecting to get this far.”

You laugh airily, his surprise cute. As much as you were serious, you don’t want to put pressure on him. Moving to walk past and offering, “Do you wanna eat instead? I can order something; I don’t think I have enough in my fridge to cook–”

Your sentence is cut off by his hand on your upper arm, suddenly being pulled into him. “Now hold on, I’m not passing on this opportunity.”

“You sure? You seemed to get a bit nervous for a second there,” you tease.

“Was taken by surprise is all,” he grins.

“Are you really sure, because–”

He’s cutting you off again, his lips on yours, breathing against you, “–You talk too damn much.”

“That’s just–”

You don’t get to finish; he’s kissing you again. It’s insistent and messy, like he’s been wanting to kiss you for too long. His tongue licking into your mouth, pulling a whine from you at how his hands grope at your hips. Looping your arms around his neck, you pull yourself up into him, craving more of him.

He’s large and warm, so sturdy as you hang off him. Such a good kisser, lips slotting against yours perfectly. The way he’s making out with you has shivers running down your spine, finding yourself obsessing over his lips. You don’t want to part from him, drunk on him and the messy way he’s kissing you.

A hand leaves your hip and grabs the side of your face, his thumb pulls on your chin, getting you to open your mouth more. He wants to kiss you deeper, he wants to kiss you so you never forget what it’s like to be kissed by him. Leading you back, he walks you both to the bed until your legs are knocking on it and then he pushes you down onto it.

“You know,” his smile is suggestive, “I think I am hungry.”

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to understand what he means, it’s not until his hands are at the waistband of your pants are you catching on, “Oh!” You’re feeling flustered, “I– you don’t– if you want–”

“–Oh, I want,” He returns quickly. “Do you?”

“Yes…” Your voice comes out smaller than you intended.

He can’t help but snicker at how you’re suddenly so much more shy, “Where’d your sharp tongue go, doll?”

“Shuddup Toji,” you snark back.

The breath that leaves him is amused, his hands pulling your pants and panties off in one go. And then he’s a little breathless because you’re so wet and pretty, his hands are keeping you spread apart.

“Keep ya fuckin’ legs open, doll,” he grunts, “Don’t deprive me of the view.”

“How can you be so– hah–”

He drops to his knees and blows cool air onto your clit, interrupting your comment in favour of a small gasp. Enjoying the way you twitch slightly at the action, “What were you saying?”

“F–Fuck you,” you curse at him.

“You’ll get the chance, don’t worry.”

Not able to hold himself back any longer, he’s putting his mouth on your cunt. His tongue spreading your folds, licking from your hole to your clit and back down again, repeating the motions over and over. No real purpose behind his actions, just enjoying the taste of you on his tongue, relishing in the sounds he manages to pull from you. Essentially making out with your pussy, reverential in his actions.

You try grinding down into him, to guide him where you want but he’s too happy to torture you, his arms hold you open and pin you still. Barely able to rut down into him with how his arms are around your legs.

“Toji,” you whine at him, wanting more.

He ignores your call to him, too involved in how he’s lapping at your cunt, making a mess. Though finally switching things up in a show of pity, his tongue slides inside your hole, fucking you with it. Your chest stutters with your breaths and your legs fight his arms, wanting to close around his head. It doesn’t work, he’s so strong and you feel so weak with how he’s turning you into a puddle.

This may be his new obsession, making out with your pussy and refusing to let you get what you want. Your pathetic whines and fruitless struggle against his grip amuses him just about as much as it turns him on. He rubs his nose purposefully into your clit, the moan you let out is shocked and cute. The way your cunt flutters around his tongue has his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

You’re really going to let him fuck you and that thought alone makes him feel giddy. Parting from you in a messy display, string of his saliva connecting him to your wet pussy, “You wanna cum, doll?”

Blankly, you nod back at him.

He smiles evil, “Ask.”

“Toji…”

“You wanna cum or not?”

“Make me cum…” You look at him and it has your heart leaping, his face slick with you, eyes glazed, “…please.”

“‘Atta girl,” he says like he’s proud of you.

All to happily, he puts his mouth back on you. Tongue fucking you with more purpose, nose pressed into your clit. The sounds of him eating you sloppy and obscene, not that you can find it in yourself to give a single fuck. Your high approaching so much quicker now that he actually intends on letting you cum, back arching off the bed as you get closer and closer.

So badly you want to rock down onto him, you want to grind on his pretty face, but he still holds you tight. He’s so mean to you, shouldn’t he want to make a good impression. Then again, he’s making you feel so good right now, orgasm so fucking close and then he does something devious. His finger slips inside your hole, alongside his tongue, never stopping and barely giving you a chance to acknowledge it.

It feels good and you feel the slightest bit fuller and you’re cumming, so unexpected to you that you’re blindsided as you twitch and cum all over his finger and tongue. Toji groans into you, drinking down your creamy slick. Your hearing is dull and you’re involuntarily twitching in his grip, soft whines dying down as you calm.

He keeps licking at you, you’re not able to tell if he’s cleaning up or adding to the mess between your legs but with the way he’s drooling on your pussy you’d have to guess the latter. Your thighs still shake in his grip, he’s going to force you into overstimulation, that or he’s going to have you cumming again.

Reaching down, you pull at his hair, “Too sensitive.”

“Couldn’t help myself, sorry doll,” he smiles lazily at you.

Your hand drops from his hair, he’s so beautiful, all pussy drunk and horny. “Is okay.”

While he waits for your breathing to start evening out, he licks and bites at your thighs, leaving behind so many marks that you will no doubt be embarrassed about tomorrow. Right now though, you can’t be bothered to move away or try and stop him. Jerking every now and again when his teeth nip at an especially soft spot on your thigh.

When you’ve calmed down, he stands up, undressing in front of you, not minding in the slightest the way you stare at him. His dick bobs under the weight of it, all heavy and leaky, precum dripping from his tip down the length of himself. Your thighs rub together at the sight of his incredibly hard cock, caught between worried about taking him and desperate to be fucked open on him.

“Your shirt,” he points at your chest, “Off.”

Pushing yourself up, you go to take off your shirt but before you can Toji’s tugging it off himself. “Someone’s eager,” you tease.

“‘Course I am,” his hands are quick to grope at your tits, “I get to open your little pussy up on my cock, what’s not to be eager about.” He smirks, fingers pinching your nipples.

“Are you always such a relentless tease?”

“Did you expect anything less?”

“Stop– hah– stop playing with my tits,” your scold has less of an effect when you’re pushing into him and fighting off moans.

He hums at you but pulls his hands back, “Shuffle back.”

Doing as he says, you move back on the bed, sitting more centred on it. He crawls onto the bed, pushing you back onto the mattress with a hand on your shoulder. Quick to open your legs again, hooking under your knees with both hands to push back on your legs. His eyes greedy as he watches your cunt closely, grinning when you clench around nothing.

“Toji, stop being a dick.”

“You want this dick, doll,” he returns, glancing at you, “Should ask real nice for it.”

You return a sharp, “Maybe you should ask real nice to fuck my pussy.”

“You got words now, but I doubt that’ll stay the same when I’m balls deep in you,” he grips his cock and rubs his tip between your folds.

“You gotta ask, Toji,” you remind.

Without an ounce of shame, he asks, “Please, let me fuck your pretty pussy, doll. Wanna feel the way she grips me tight when I fuck her open, want her creaming on me, wanna make a real fuckin’ mess.”

“I hate you,” you huff, annoyed that his words turned you on so much.

“She doesn’t feel the same as you,” he notes, humming at how your slick drips down and coats the tip of his dick.

Whining at him, “Toji, stop being such a– hah– insufferable tease.”

��You haven’t asked yet, doll,” the tip of his cock almost pushes inside you before he moves back.

An unsatisfied breath leaving you, almost having got what you wanted, “I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

“I do, bad,” he agrees easily, “What I want more than that though…” leaning down to talk next to your ear, “Is to hear you fuckin’ beg for it…”

Sadly, your resolve is weak, and you break easily, “Please, Toji. Please fuck me, anything, just stop teasing, please.” When he doesn’t move at your pleads, you add another small, “Please.”

Breathless huff leaving him at how quickly you gave in, he wonders how you’d hold up if he weren’t being so impatient himself. Working you up over and over only to deny you pleasure at the last second, making you cry and beg for his dick. The thoughts have his cock twitching, loving the idea of your wet eyes. He’ll just have to make you cry another way.

“What kind of a man would I be if I said no after you begged so nicely?” He asks rhetorically.

Despite his tone, you answer, “A mean one.”

Barking a laugh at your reply, “Never claimed to be nice, doll.” He delights in the way your eyes grow large, worried he’s going to deprive you more and maybe if he weren’t so fucking horny he would but he can’t bring himself to. “Don’t look so worried,” he coos.

Pulling back, he waits for you to open your mouth to talk before pushing the tip of his cock into you. Your face twisting in surprise, mouth dropping open but no words coming. His breathing stutters at the tight grip of your cunt, not quite expecting you to feel so fucking good around only this much of him.

He looks down to your pussy, watching how he’s slowly sinking into you, “Don’t know h– hah– how gentle I’m gonna be, doll.”

You mumble back at him, already out of it, “Ruin me.”

A shudder runs through him at that, just about cumming in you from your small request alone, “You’re a fuckin’ dream.” He keeps sliding inside you, rocking slightly, not able to help himself when you feel this good, “If ya need me to stop, fuckin’ slap me or something.”

“Won’t want you to– hnn– stop,” you gasp back.

“If you do though,” he insists.

Nodding firmly at him, like you want him to just shut up now, “I’ll– hah– slap y–you, got it.”

“Impatient little thing, aren’t ya?”

Though he’s not much better than you, especially when he’s finally balls deep, mouth salivating as his eyes almost roll to the back of his head. Only fighting the urge so he can see your face and watch how your eyes glaze over. A sight he doesn’t regret waiting for, his dick throbbing at the cute expression you’re wearing, your cunt fucked open and full by him, your brain having trouble doing its job.

Already so cock drunk that you can’t get your bearings enough to talk, he can tell you want to though, can see the way you’re fighting yourself. He’s surprised when you grind into him, against his pelvis. Clearly unable to find the words to ask him nicely to start moving, he groans at your shamelessness, enjoying you like this. You’re greedy and he likes that.

“Cute,” he murmurs, watching your pussy bulge around his dick.

Taking a deep breath, you moan out his name. All pitched and ruined, “Toji.”

“I got ya, doll.”

He pulls back slowly, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls. Your back arches as you moan, already trying to grind back into him. Toji bites his lip at the unabashed display, so willing to be openly needy when you’re this worked up. Not even a little bit shy when you whimper and try fucking up onto him.

Giving you what you want, he thrusts harshly back into you, picking up a diabolic pace. The sloppy sounds of him fucking your tight cunt filling the room, lewd mess spilling from your hole onto your fresh duvet every time he pulls back out. A fact you’d surely be bothered by if your eyes weren’t rolling, and your head wasn’t going fuzzy at how he’s fucking you. Managing to rub up against every single perfect spot inside you, your toes curling and legs shaking.

Cruelly, Toji grabs under your legs, pushing them up and back. Leaning into the movement with his weight, folding you in half. The angle new and breathtaking as he drills down relentlessly into you. If you weren’t cock drunk before you sure as fuck are now, your moans loud, the chanting of his name slurred and barely comprehensible.

“Fuck– how are you so–” Toji’s dick spasms inside you, you’re so unbelievably wet around him. Creamy pussy making an obscene mess on him, “Feel so– hnn– fuckin’ good, doll.”

You shake your head at him, “I– ah!– can’t fff–” you give up half way through, unable to say what you wanted.

He chuckles at your inability to form a coherent sentence, heart leaping at the realisation your eyes are brimming with tears. Sitting so pretty on your lash line, adding to the glassy look in your eyes. Moans slip from him when you shed a few tears, somehow, he’s folding you even more in half. The mating press mean and firm, not willing to give you a chance to change anything about how he’s fucking you.

It’s mind numbing how he’s thrusting into you, not realising how you’re drooling over it. Pussy throbbing at the way he slides into you, the feeling of being so full and split open the only thing on your mind. It can’t feel this good, why does it feel this good? The kind of sex that has you forgetting you’ve ever had sex before. Getting dicked down so good that you can’t even think of ever wanting anything but this.

Toji notices how drunk on him you are, “Hah– Good, doll?”

“Ah huh,” you nod deliriously at him, it’s all you’re really capable of.

Skin slapping against skin fills the room, his brutal thrusts echoing throughout your barely furnished apartment. His ego growing tenfold by the stupid look on your face, your pussy leaving a creamy white ring around the base of his cock driving him insane. Fucking you is messy, and he can’t help the fact that he’s obsessed with that. Loving the way you still try to grind up into him. Failing every time with the way he’s folded you, so needy for more that it’s adorable.

You’re hot and wet and so so snug that he feels like he’s dreaming, hooked on the way your pussy sucks him right back in as soon as he’s pulling out. Taking him so well despite the way you’re struggling to fit all of him, not that you mind, so blissed out and greedy that all you do is moan and pull at the sheets.

Cheeks tear stained at this point, orgasm so close if your stuttered breaths and shaking thighs are anything to go by. He keeps his thrusts the same, not changing anything about the way he’s fucking into you harshly, building you up so quickly that you’re dizzy.

Your back arches up into him, your tits presented to him so enticingly that he feels disappointed he can’t put his mouth on them right now.

“You’re s–so cute, doll,” he compliments, “Fuck– so greedy.”

His deep voice and crude praise send you over the edge, cunt clamping down so tight around him that he struggles to fuck you through your orgasm. Cumming around him so divinely that he couldn’t stop the moans tumbling from his lips even if he thought to. The sounds he makes stick inside your head, brain foggy as you cum but distinctly picking up on the moans he lets out. Pretty and arousing, you wish he had made more sounds for you.

Even as you come down, he keeps fucking you, fervent and desperate as he pummels into you over and over. New headboard slamming into the wall loudly as he fucks you, probably has been the whole time and you’re only just now registering it. Your eyes are bleary from the tears you’ve spilt, you want to rock down into him, wanting him to finish inside you so badly that it’s a feral kind of need clawing at your insides.

It’s insane how good he looks while he fucks into you, his lips parted slightly as he watches the way he stuffs his cock back into you over and over. Abs tense with his movements, eyes lazy and blown out, body sweaty from the exertion of holding you in a mating press while fucking you diabolically. His tongue runs along his lower lip, and you involuntarily clench around him, making him moan weakly, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

Glancing up at you, his eyes look wild, “You’re so adorable when you’re crying for me.”

“Toji,” It’s pathetic and pouted back at him, mind too broken to say much else.

He groans at you, “Ohh fuck!–”

The way your lower lip wobbles so pitifully when whining his name has him blowing his load, not even expecting it himself as he cums deeps inside you. When he realises, he slams his hips to yours, wanting it so deep inside that you’ll feel him for days after. His pelvis grinds into you and you practically purr at it, the stimulation against your clit has your cunt fluttering around him.

He's so sensitive he nearly whimpers at how perfect you feel around him, unwilling to move immediately, truly too obsessed with how you feel around him. The only thing prompting him to pull back being the uncomfortable way he’s folded you in half, lifting his weight off you, he allows your legs to drop.

Eyes locked onto your pussy when he pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks from your hole and down onto your bed, adding to the mess already there from the sloppy way he’s fucked you. Compelled by greed and his horny brain, he uses his fingers to scoop up his seed and push it back into you. Fingers pushing into your cunt and relishing in the way you jump at the intrusion.

“Don’t want it going to waste now do we, doll?”

“You’re a– hah– freak,” you whine at him.

“You fuckin’ like it,” he slips his two fingers deep inside and curls them, “Bet if I hadn’t pinned you, you’d be a little freak yourself.”

Your hips grind down into his hand, apparently insatiable and willing to cum for him for the third time tonight. Needy all over again that it’s almost embarrassing how willing to be fucked by his fingers you are. If Toji didn’t seem so keen to give you what you wanted you’d probably feel ashamed of how you twitch down onto his digits soaked in a mix of both your cum.

You gasp at him, “It’s– ah!– too much.”

“See…” he grins, “…You say that, but you’re rutting down into me so needily that I’m not sure I believe you.”

He enjoys the way your overstimulated body jerks at his touch, cunt swallowing his fingers happily. The sight of your overfilled pussy trying to push his cum out only for his fingers to shove it back in making his chest vibrate with groans. His thumb rubs into your clit and you whine pathetically at him, your hand clamping over your mouth as your toes curl.

So soon after your last orgasm that you’re finishing with barely any work from him, your walls gripping him as you whimper into your palm. Thighs trembling from the force of it, you can’t even hear anything, gaze so bleary that you’re unable to see for a few moments. Toji doesn’t stop moving his hand until you go limp on the bed, your breaths heaved as you struggle to collect yourself.

When he groans, you open your eyes to watch the way he sucks on his fingers. Cleaning them of the lewd mess from the both of you, he’s smug when he sees the way he’s flustered you with his actions.

“You’re so gross,” you whinge at him.

He only laughs as he gets off the bed and ransacks your apartment for something to wipe the pair of you down with. Touch gentle as he wipes between your legs with the cloth he’s found. Despite how careful he is with you, you flinch, so sensitive that you feel like you might break.

Once he’s cleaned you enough, he flops down beside you and pulls you to him, “Think we broke it in enough?”

You consider, “I don’t know… we might have to do that all again.”

“Because the beds not broken in or because you wanna get dicked down again?”

“Just wanna see if it’s like that every time.”

“It’ll be better,” he speaks low, “I went easy on you.”

A shiver runs down your spine, taking him for his word, “Then… next time?”

“Next time,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I’m taking you out on a date first.” Not able to leave it as a nice moment, he adds, “And then I’m taking you back to my place to make you properly beg for it.”

“You’re gonna kill me.”

“Maybe but it’ll feel real good,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes at him, “Fine but you gotta help with all the rest of my furniture.”

“Doll, with the state of your bed before I came over, I almost feel obligated to,” smooth in how he says, “I don’t wanna be visiting such a sad apartment all the time.”

He’s as presumptuous as ever but you don’t feel the need to point that out to him, since he’s right and all.

𝐀/𝐍: this was supposed to be up before christmas but then i had to do things to prep for it UGH... as per usual this fic was only meant to be like... 5k maybe a little less and i got carried away hehe. anyways,, happy holidays all !!! i hope you enjoy !!! <3

[⚠︎] — 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

#visionwrites #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #toji x reader smut #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you smut #toji x you

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linkcharacter · 20 days ago

Note

Really like the recent analysis. I know I speak of curly in a more defensive way than most but I generally try to get the point you made across at the end of the day with my analyses on him and his behaviors.

People love to lock analyses around Curly solely based on what he could’ve done as a physical action and have this avoidance to acknowledging the realistic barriers at play when it comes to those solutions. It’s. The game tries to treat the pre-crash section as if they are grounded in social and organizational realities. So the what if he did this questions about the situation always fall short when the real answer is he either couldn’t or it wasn’t an actual viable option. But then when they talk about what he actually did do it’s surrounded by such bad faith interpretations that his actions were completely intentional or still not affected by outside sources. He’s a very much “road to hell is paved with good intentions” character. He cared too much and that’s a big part of his problem.

There’s such a “perfect victim or nothing” mindset in the fandom where people can’t admit that there are no such things as perfect victims but that also shouldn’t mean that even if there were it would absolve them of the mistakes they made. People want to moralize every action of every character that they don’t realize that some actions are done without any specific morale factor. People just do things, like you said. People assumed failed intentions immediately flip the thought process behind them “he meant to do good but bad happened, he must be bad” and that just is not how people work. It’s how perceptions work but only of the observer.

It’s such a sensitive topic because, yes, you are supposed to be frustrated, even mad, at what Curly didn’t do, but you have to acknowledge the fact these were good intentioned acts even if that good intent did jack squat in the end. That his responses are human and it’s supposed to be uncomfortable and hurt that they were realistic faults of his.

He enabled his friend and it ended bad for everyone including him. No one really tries to argue this fact but everyone seems to think it has to be tied to the morale dilemma and not certain human natures and social factors.

This is all to ask, why do you personally lean towards thinking Curly wouldn’t turn Jimmy in? Are you speaking in the short term of realizing how bad he got or long-term/overall? I feel like he could but it would not be easy and no matter the necessity he’d always have this guilt at feeling bad for doing it.

Ah yes Curly the most imperfect human man character.

Yep yep yep absolutely, people love to assign morality onto characters and call them good or bad and diminishing the depth and nuance of Mouthwashing, filling discussions with bad-faith interpretations or speculating on inconcrete understandings of the incomplete, intentionally vague, context. I adore Mouthwashing to no end for having this oppressive suffocating and constant atmosphere surrounding everything in the game. Really shows off that the environment festers, no one well-meaning guy could create a happy ending with individual actions alone because it's all systematic.

To elaborate from your question tho, at the point Curly was in (if Anya wasn't pregnant scenario), definitely no don't think so (would depend on Anya a too on whether or not she would go to the authorities outside). Curly knew Jimmy was a danger, and I do believe that subconsciously Anya's report to him on Jimmy gnaws at him, but not vividly enough. I want to point out a moment where Anya tells him about the pregnancy, he begins asking "Who would you-", then he's nudged by Anya that she told him and he should know who it is, and he does, instantly saying he's known him a long time and will talk to him. That moment of, for a second not connecting that Jimmy is the assaulter responsible just makes me drag my palm across my face for how much of a man (derogatory) Curly acted like for one dialogue line. Like he just 'forgot' for a brief moment that Jimmy harassed Anya prior? Granted, he instantly believes and takes Anya seriously, immediately dropping the search for the gun he was on in that scene, realizing the severity of the situation and of Jimmy. We also don't know what Anya has told him specifically, how long ago it happened, etc. but the 'implications' of the scene make me believe Jimmy's known sexual harassment on the ship slipped Curly's mind due to him being more invested in "the bigger picture" of Jimmy, not latching onto a harmful and a very serious fucking trivia fact about Jimmy because of his perception of who his friend is as a whole (and with his foggy sleep-deprived mind at the moment), 'losing a needle in a haystack' with how much unknown history Curly and Jimmy shared, so to say.

Maaaybe in some other circumstances, like if Jimmy didn't crash the ship or smth long term I could see him doing it, it would take a lot effort like you said, no matter the necessity. We will never know. If we're going into speculation and imaginary scenarios though, if Anya HERSELF were to try and get justice, Curly would be backing her up undoubtedly (still not disconnecting himself from Jimmy though and feeling guilt on his behalf). But that's all suppositions from my reading of the characters.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing game #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #i am so enjoying this dude like having a civil discussions is so euphoric fr like man thanks for the thoughts #asks

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nattikay · 8 months ago

Text

bedtime

NOTE: stä'noli should be stolä'ni, that was a pretty rudimentary mistake and I'm not really sure what was going on in my brain when I wrote it but 😅 maybe i'll fix it on the image later but i can't be bothered right this minute, i'm already up way later than I should be as is (have an early day tomorrow)

Further language notes/rambling under the cut!

"wait, isn't Jake supposed to be spelled Tsyeyk in Na'vi?" Yes it is! And if I'd given that line to a monolingual Na'vi speaker I would've spelled it that way. BUT Neytiri is bilingual and does not pronounce it "Tsyeyk" (I mean, technically she doesn't say "Jake" either, it's more like "Zheyk" but w/e). So for her specifically I keep the j. I suppose at that point I could've just kept the English spelling completely, but leaving silent letters at the end like that makes things weird in written Na'vi given all the grammatical endings that can be applied (not that that matters in this comic because they weren't needed for the line but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Speaking of Jake, writing Na'vi dialogue for him is fun to me because he's not a native speaker which means I'm free to give him all sorts of beginner habits and/or mistakes, especially given that by his own admission he struggled learning the language. However, since I'm working within a pretty broad time frame, I had to remind myself that he wouldn't be a beginner forever.

I bring this up because there are two aspects of Jake's dialogue here that I was going to point out as...well, not wrong, but as more "English-y" habits I'd headcanoned he might hang on to...but on further reflection changed my mind because I realized that at the time of this comic he's been living with the Omatikaya for nearly ten years and would be pretty much fluent. I still left it written that way but am no longer headcanoning that that's ~just how he talks~ at this point in his life. After all, if I'm conscious of these habits after just two years of studying the language as a casual hobby, is it really believable that he'd be clinging to them after nearly a decade of full daily immersion, even with his self-admitted struggle with language learning? 😅

Anyways, for the sake of rambling about my hobby regardless, one of these aspects was using SVO word order, like English. Na'vi is a free-word-order language, so SVO is valid, but most Na'vi speakers are not going to stick to it exclusively. I think Jake, like many native-English-speaking learners, may have relied on this word order earlier on because that's just how his brain has been wired to process information, but at this point I think just by sheer exposure he'd have broken out of any strict adherence to it, intentional or otherwise.

The other thing is concerning possessive. The standard Na'vi grammatical ending for possessive is -yä. But Na'vi grammar also includes a concept called inalienable possession, which refers to things that are intrinsically yours and cannot be given away. What exactly qualifies as inalienable varies between languages that have such a concept, but with Na'vi it's most commonly seen with body parts. Inalienable possession can be marked with -yä, but there is a slight preference to mark it with the topical, -ri, instead. So, compare:

Peyä mehinam lu ngim. His legs are long. Pori mehinam lu ngim. His legs are long (lit. "concerning him, the legs are long")

Both of these are considered acceptable, but the -ri version is considered just slightly "better" (for lack of a better term).

You'll notice that Jake uses peyä instead of pori here; this was because the peyä structure is a more direct equivalent to the English construction, so it's pretty common for new learners to use it instead of -ri. And again it's not wrong, so it's not exactly a mistake per se. So it seemed like a reasonable "Englishy-but-still-technically-correct" habit for Jake to hang on to. And I do still think that may well have been in the case...in his earlier years 😅

soooo yeah. I will still probably be giving Jake some of those speaking habits in comics and such that take place only 2-3 years after A1, but once you get to around 10 years like this one...yeah I think it'll make more sense to just write his dialogue like that of any other fluent Na'vi-speaking character lol

#avatar #avatar 2 #sully family #jake sully #neytiri #tuktirey #neteyam #kiri #lo'ak #comic #my art #lì'fya leNa'vi

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trippinsorrows · 5 months ago

Text

looking through your eyes + eight

authors note: so....i like cliched shit, so there's some of that here. hope it's not too much. this one is also very heavy at points, so please read the warnings, but it def has its moments that help progress the plot. also, the book referenced is a real work that we often use in therapy with survivors of sexual trauma. an excellent, powerfully healing read. i own neither the book nor the excerpt used.

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

cw/tw: references to csa, aftermath of csa, character being triggered, scene of violence/torture, fluff, angst, language, and suggestive themes

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

masterlist

words: 12k (i clearly don't know how to stop. it is what it is)

It's out of our hands We can't stop what we have begun

---Leann Rimes

“Clarke.”

There’s a heavy sigh followed by continued writing, icy blue eyes focused on the report before her instead of the irksome man before her, no doubt giving her those ‘fuck me’ eyes that would be an HR nightmare if HR actually did any fucking thing at this precinct.

She finishes her quote before asking with all the intentional disinterest, “what do you want, Reed?”

His question, as well as his intrusion by her desk, is expected. “why aren’t you joining the rest of us for the luncheon today?”

It’s none of his business, and Danica has no issues telling him that in intentionally vague terms. “Got somewhere to be.”

Finally looking up, she sees Reed’s gaze go cold. “Where?”

Danica drops her pin and answers in the sweetest yet nastiest voice she can muster before 10am. “Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but the Miller girl is being released from the hospital today.”

Reed is just as confused as he is stupid. “Who?”

His obtuseness shouldn’t surprise nor irritate her, but it does. She remembers every single case she’s ever worked, and she’s certain this one will always remain at the top of the list. No matter how far she gets into her career. “Solana Miller. Xavier Miller’s daughter. The home invasion—”

“I know.” Reed’s almost relaxed, nosy disposition has entirely shifted. “Captain said the case was closed. Kid doesn’t want to press charges.”

“That kid is fucking traumatized. Don’t put that on her. Xavier is the one refusing to let us proceed.”

Reed leans forward, harshly whispering, “keep your fucking voice down, alright? Miller is…..he’s not someone you want to piss off. If he says we don’t run it, then we don’t run it, got it?”

“And who the hell is he to decide how the law works?” Clarke is also leaned over her desk, almost a month worth of pent up frustration with the lack of justice bubbling to the surface. “You read that medical report. You were on the scene. You don’t beat a grown man the way they beat that little girl. She could barely fucking walked. Dragged herself to a neighbors to ask for help. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.”

“But she is, okay?” He’s also matching her energy, just as passionate about blatant injustice as she is for said justice. “The best thing to do for that kid is to let her go home, heal, and move on with her life.”

And that’s the part that almost breaks her, that almost makes her shift from her role as an advocate to the survivor within that so deeply identifies with Solana.“You really think it’s that simple? Like she can just go back into the house where she was raped and almost killed and pretend like nothing happened?”

“No, I don’t know, Clarke, and quite frankly, I don’t care. I’m moving on and picking my battles wisely.” His voice switches to something ominous. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d move on too.”

Aware of the underlying implications of his warning, she calls his bluff, “you threatening me?”

“Believe it or not, I actually do like you, Danica, but you’re playing a dangerous game.” Reed’s voice lowers again, and Danica almost feels like he’s trying to be genuine. “I know you’re still new around here, so let me give some free advice. Xavier Miller is a dangerous man. He’s got friends in places you don’t want to find out about. Leave this alone before you’re the next mutilated body we find floating in the river, alright?”

________

Danica Clarke has always been stubborn, a trait she’s certain will lead to her demise, but if this is the route that brings her to said demise, she’s okay with it.

Danica waits in the doorway, aware of how knocking can be alarming. She waits and assesses for the moment Solana’s gaze is close enough to where she won’t be as startled. “Hey there, pretty girl….”

Sure enough, Solana jumps a bit, and Danica is pleased to see the swelling on her face has gone down tremendously and the bruising has started to fade to an almost flesh toned color. She looks less at death’s door than the first time Danica was introduced to the 12-year-old.

“Can I come in?”

As expected, Solana doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly.

Danica moves to sit in the chair on the side of the bed. “Heard you were getting released today….” Danica studies Solana carefully, adding kindly, “may be kinda nice to have a change of scenery.”

Solana remains quiet, but Danica has been around enough survivors, remembers her own survivor story, to know that nothing feels nice or good in the immediate aftermath. There’s just numbness and pain. No in-between.

“I’m so sorry there’s nothing more I can do to help you, Solana. I really am.” And she means that with every fiber of her being. “You didn’t deserve this. You deserve justice, and I wish there was more I could do, but….my hands are tied.” Danica’s only been at this precinct for less than six months, and while asking to be transferred won’t be a good look when evaluations roll around, she doesn’t give a fuck. She can’t serve with bastards who would let sick fucks like Solana’s attackers walk around freely.

It’s too repulsive.

“But, I do…..I want to give you something.” Danica reaches into her backpack and pulls out something she hasn’t had to look at in years. A book, thick, with yellow, paperback binding. The edges are a bit worn, and certain parts are highlighted, but it’s still just as powerful nonetheless. “When I was….a little younger than you, I was raped too.” Danica sees Solana’s gaze lift up, surprise and shock written on her face. “And it wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to heal and finally process what’d happened to me.” Danica’s lips press together. “The counselor I saw in college, she gave me this book, and it changed my life.”

Solana looks down, reading the title, typed in big, black letters: The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse.

“I wanna read something out of it for you, if that’s alright?” Consent, especially now, is everything, so Danica waits patiently for Solana again to nod, permitting her permission to read.

With a deep breath to also prepare herself for revisiting the past, she begins reading a passage that Solana can see she has highlighted.

“I know you're in a world of pain, but that pain will lessen. At the beginning you can't see that. You can only see your pain and you think it will never go away. But the nature of pain is that it changes— it changes like a sunset. At first, it's this intense red-orange in the sky, and then it starts getting softer and soften. The texture of pain changes as you work through it. And then one day, you wake up and realize that life isn't just about working through your abuse; it's about living, too.”

Danica looks up to see Solana sniffling, wiping at her eyes. She’s tempted to reach and take her hand, but she also knows better, knows that the last thing this child wants is to be touched.

“I want you to have this, Solana. I want you to take it, and when you’re older, when you’re ready to reclaim your voice, and you will, I want you to read every word in here. From cover to back cover. You’re gonna be okay, sweetie. You don’t feel it now, but you have to believe it.” Her eyes gloss over. “Don’t ever stop living, Solana.”

“Solana.”

Flashbacks and memories from that time of her life don’t happen often, and it’s an intentional thing on Solana’s part.

She doesn’t like thinking about that part, but this certain memory has now revisited her a total of three times now. Twice in a dream and now in the middle of a conversation with Bayley and Naomi.

That…..that can’t be a coincidence.

“I’m sorry.” Apologizing seems like the most appropriate thing until Naomi shakes her head.

“Roman said we’re not supposed to accept or condone you apologizing for anything, so imma pretend like I didn’t hear that, sis.”

Roman….

He confuses her.

He’s certainly unlike any man she’s ever met. And though that number is far from generous, he’s still the anomaly.

After essentially rejecting what was an….interesting, unfamiliar, different experience between the two of them, she expected him to be upset. To be frustrated. To be absolutely all over her baggage. To ignore her.

But, that’s not what happened, none of that has happened. Instead, he’s carried on like nothing happened, like she didn’t run away from him in near tears.

Like they didn’t….like they didn’t almost have a moment.

He’s stayed true to his word in that he’s met her every day after work in the week that’s passed. And while the first day was awkward, mostly on her part, they’ve fallen back in that same confusing yet peaceful space.

Confusing yet peaceful…that seems to be the theme since the day she said “I do.”

It’s not uncomfortable nor unpreferred over where she came from.

It’s just…..different.

“Oh—okay.” Solana doesn’t know what else to say but notices that Naomi looks like she has something else to say but is hesitant. “Is—is everything okay?”

That seems to be the door that paves the way for said conversation. “I’ve been thinking. You’ve come a long way. Like, you’ve really got the basics down, all the defensive positions, even fluidity of movement.” It’s leading up to something, Solana is certain of this, but it also means a lot to her that Naomi believes she’s progressed. Doing well with this or even retaining Naomi’s training is something she never saw for herself. “I want to advance you to learning attacks. Solana’s stomach starts to tighten. “With weapons.”

And there it is.

Solana winces. “Weapons?”

Bayley sighs, joining in to help Naomi present her case. “We wanna teach you how to use knives.” Solana’s stomach tightening quickly morphs into twists and knots. “Hear me out, please. I know….I know that’s gotta be a sensitive thing for you, and I totally understand why, but knife fighting is a really great skill to have, even if just to have one on you at all times and know how to use it if need be.”

“And let’s be honest, Roman isn’t going to let anything happen to you to where you would need it, but still.” Something tells Solana Naomi isn’t wrong about that. That neither woman is wrong in what they’re saying, but just the conversation brings back flashes of that night, the night that left the physical and mental scars she still bears now.

Bayley offers a sympathetic smile. “Just think about it, okay?” Solana can do that. She will do that, just….maybe not right now.

And she doesn’t have to because Roman and the twins suddenly enter the gym space. Solana’s stomach tightens seeing Roman shirtless, a sight that’s happened a couple times now, and each time doesn’t seem to make it any easier on her nerves. If anything, it gets worse.

“Whassup, ladies.” Jey greets, clapping his hands as he asks, “ya’ll ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” Solana speaks up, not directing her question to anyone in particular, but Bayley is the one to answer. “What—what’s tonight?”

“Night of Champions.” She then goes on to explain. “It’s one of our annual wrestling events. Naomi and I are competing.”

Curious, Solana turns to Roman. “Are you fighting?”

Jimmy, however, is the one to answer. “Soso, Big Dog don’t do these events no more. Not very often anyway, but he’ll be there.”

“Can I come?” Solana directs her question to Roman, knowing that it will be his call. He eyes her unexpectedly.

“You want to?”

She nods, referring to the group. “I—I wanna see them fight.”

It also feels like the right thing to do, to support the two women who’ve been nothing but supportive of her since day one. Even Jimmy and Jey with their often inappropriate comments about her body and continuous praise over her cooking abilities. It’s still always been very respectful in a strange sort of way.

Roman steps towards her, and Solana finds that it takes a concentrated effort to keep her eyes on his and to not gaze downward. Him being shirtless before her doesn’t help with the attraction she’s still trying to wrap her head around and navigate.

He lowers his voice, asking, “you sure?”

She’s confused only for a second when she remembers why he seems to be ensuring this is what she wants. This will be the first time Solana has returned to the Warehouse since Grayson and Austin’s attack, since she caused a whole scene that resulted in the whole damn place being shut down and Roman sending a grim message to all.

For a second, she backs away, retreats from her initial desire. Briefly tells herself that this isn’t what she wants, but that other distant voice in the back of her head, not as present or loud, seems to win the battle this time around.

“Yes,” is the final answer she settles on. “I’ll be fine.”

Roman nods, informing. “We leave at 6:30.”

Solana starts to wonder about what this night could entail when Jey suddenly expresses, “It’s kinda nice outside. I think I’m gonna go for a swim. Get in that aquatic cardio.”

Jimmy also cosigns this after sharing a quick kiss with Naomi. “Oh shit, yeah, lets’ do it

Roman is instantly annoyed, asking with all of the exasperation. “Don’t ya’ll have a pool at your houses?”

“Yeah, but yours is nicer.” Jimmy answers like it’s the simplest thing in the world. He then looks over at Solana, asking, “you joining us, Soso?”

And that, not the idea of returning to the place where she was almost attacked, is what brings on the heavier anxiety. Once upon a time, Solana loved the pool. Swimming with her mom on hot, summer scorching days used to be some of her favorite memories. Now, those memories are plagued with flashbacks of being held under water, a form of torture implemented by her brother.

“N–no.” Solana catches Roman’s gaze on her, the way his eyes dip to her running her fingers against the sides of her workout pants. “I—ummm—I’m going into work for a little bit today, so I should get ready to go.”

Roman speaks up first, skeptical. “I didn’t know you were going in today.”

“I have to take care of something.”

Solana being vague is new, it’s unfamiliar, and it doesn’t feel the best to lie to him in a sense. Even if it’s less a lie and more a vague answer.

There is something she needs to take care of. She just has no desire or even ability to tell him just what she needs to take care of, because that would mean she has to tell him the why, and that is something she’s never discussed with anyone and has no desire ever to.

________

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry I haven’t written you as much. Life has been….very confusing and different, but not bad. I think….I think I like living here.

I like Bayley and Naomi. They’re so nice to me. I think you would like them too. Bayley is Mexican, so we talk in Spanish sometimes, and I love that because it reminds me of us, mama, all our conversations and writings.

Jimmy and Jey, Roman’s cousins, make me laugh. They’re also nice to me, and they really like my cooking, your cooking. I still use a lot of the recipes you taught me.

I finally have a dog, mami! Her name is Dulce. She’s so sweet and little and adorable. Roman got her for me.

Roman…

He’s not what I expected. I don’t….I don’t understand why he’s nice to me. Cause that’s what it is. That much I’ve finally realized. He’s….nice to me.

I’ve never had a man be nice to me.

We had….something happen a week ago. I still don’t really know how to describe it, just that he was touching me, not even inappropriately. And I think…..I think I liked it, but then I got scared because it was like….it was like it wasn’t him touching me. It was them.

And I….I hate that. I hate it because it’s miserable feeling this way. Wanting something but not wanting it. Being scared of something but wanting it. Desiring to be close to someone but not wanting that either.

I feel so torn sometimes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that book the detective gave me after it happened. There’s gotta be a reason I kept it all these years. I think….I think I want to read it.

I don’t know what to expect, and I’m nervous because I don’t like thinking about it, but I can’t, I don’t, want to keep living like this.

I can’t.

________

When Solana asked to attend Night of Champions, she was thinking it would be similar to WarGames. A foolish assumption. It is in the sense that the arena area is packed, not a single seat unoccupied, the boisterous sound of loud chatter and music serving as a backdrop against said chatter. That’s all the same and unchanged.

What is different and what Solana should have thought about was the fact that the two women who made her feel so comfortable last time won’t be there this time, because they’re competing. And so are the twins.

And Nicki is apparently upset with Jey—a recurrent theme, it seems—so she also won’t be present.

That leaves one person.

Roman.

Solana didn’t think about the fact that she’d be seated with Roman. It’s not as nerve-racking as it could be, as it probably would have been almost three months ago when this whole new, unexpected chapter of her life began.

But, it’s still a bit anxiety inducing.

She doesn’t miss how Roman’s grip on her hand remains firm on hers from the moment he helps her out the SUV, his eyes again taking her in the same way he did when she met him back in his office to tell him she was ready to go.

Solana initially felt unsure of herself given the fact that Naomi and Bayley could only pick out her outfit, shoes, and accessories for the night but couldn’t actually help her get ready given the fact that they were competing. Solana struggled to navigate her hair, as always, pinning it up on her head, and her makeup definitely isn’t as nice as the night of WarGames, but it mostly covers up her facial scar, and that’s all that matters.

Still, she must not look completely awful because Roman did not hesitate to give her a slow one over followed by a muttered “damn” and more vocalized, “fuck, you look good.”

She’s starting to lose count of how many times he’s said that now, and each new occurrence still gives her the same butterflies as the first time.

Roman escorts them to their seats, the twins and Paul already being present. Jimmy is the first to speak, whistling loudly.

“Damn, Soso. How we supposed to fight and you distracting us looking all fine and shit?”

“If you want to live and make it to the actual fight, you’ll shut the fuck up.” It’s hard for Solana to tell just when Roman is being completely honest with his cousins or just deadly honest with his cousins.

This is one of those moments.

“Thank you.” She doesn’t know what else to say, what kind of response is appropriate to something that isn’t as so.

Roman then motions for Solana to sit down and easily props his big body down in the seat right next to her. Their arms are nearly touching, but she tries not to think of that. Tries to distract herself by asking the twins, “shouldn’t you be in the locker room?”

“Naw, we fight toward the end of the night, so we like to assess with Roman till then.”

“Assess?”

While Jey was the one to provide the initial answer, Jimmy handles the clarification. “You gon be a member of the Warehouse, you gotta earn that shit. That means doing your thing in the ring. You ain’t cutting it, you out.”

Solana nods, quietly. It makes sense. Roman seems like a man with high standards. “So…you all have the final say?”

Jimmy takes a sip of his beer, shaking and nodding his head toward his cousin. “Naw, that’s all Big Dog.”

Solana glances at her husband who’s focused not necessarily on the conversation at hand but the preparation for what’s sure to be an eventful night.

“If you don’t mind, My Tribal Chief is trying to focus here.” Paul’s voice, equally nice as it is nasty, reminds her of his presence. For some reason, she’s surprised by said presence, though she shouldn’t be. It’s clear the Wise Man is an important asset to Roman.

“Whassup, my dogs!”

Just then a lanky man comes over to the group. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that says ‘honorary uce’ and has wild red hair that looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in weeks. Solana takes a second to look at him, finding him strangely familiar. It’s then she realizes that he fought with Roman, Solo, and the twins during WarGames.

He goes for some kind of special handshake with Jimmy, then Jey, and finally Roman who looks like he’s contemplating murder rather than wanting to return the greeting. He quickly plays it off, “that is well—okay my tribal chief, and—wow—” Him turning to Solana, finally noticing and acknowledging her, is an experience for the both of them. She notices his initial gaze sets on her chest which is uncomfortable but not entirely unexpected given the style of her dress. Still, she shifts in her seat, uneasy with the attention. “Those are—-ummm—” His eyes go wide, as he moves to backtrack on an obvious Freudian slip. “I mean, it’s uh, very nice to meet you, ma’am, or Mrs. Reigns, or your highness. Whichever you prefer is a-okay with—“

“Sami.”

His shoulders hunch and head drops in shame, like he already knows what’s coming. “Yes, Tribal Chief?”

“Go sit somewhere else.”

This Sami person doesn’t even hesitate, confirming he already knew he fucked up in the less than five minutes he was present. “Yes, my Tribal Chief.”

Solana watches, still partially confused but also kind of amused as he wastes no time in departing.

Paul then leans over, chatting away, “I told you, my Tribal Chief, I never liked Shmuel. He’s always been so beneath you. I understand he makes easy collateral, but—“

Roman sighs loudly. “Wise Man.”

“Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“Go join Sami.”

“But……” Solana looks over at Paul. His expression is one of devastation, like he’s just been told he had six months to live. “I—I always sit with you for Night of Champ—“

“Wise Man.”

Paul swallows. “Yes, my Tribal Chief?”

“I’m not gon tell you again.” Roman finally looks over at his closest advisor, forcefully enunciating and instructing, “go.”

Similar to Sami, the Wise Man walks off with his tail between his legs, leaving just Solana, Roman, and the twins.

She has no idea where Solo is.

“See, now you ain’t even have to do all that, Big Dog. You be getting yourself all upset over nothing. You need to start doing some deep breathing or shit, then maybe you could get off them high blood pressure pills.”

It’s that last part that Solana zones in on, that makes her turn to Roman, “you have high blood pressure?”

He lifts his eyes, dismissing, “it’s nothing.”

“Can’t—can’t that be dangerous?” It’s not necessarily a question she needs him to answer. Solana is well read on a variety of subjects, especially subjects pertaining to physical health. High blood pressure can mess with a lot of things, a lot of organs. Eyes. Brain.

Heart

Jimmy is the one to chime in, asking with that typical tone of humor. “Soso, you do know what he does for a living right?”

But, it’s hard for her to find said humor when all she’s thinking about now is how certain meals she’s prepared for him could maybe not be the best for his high blood pressure. How she could be exacerbating that.

Feeling pressured by her inner monologue, she offers, “I can change how I cook for you.” And she can. She probably will, making a mental note to peruse through her mom’s recipe books that would be more aligned with the type of diet he probably needs. “I know there’s certain things you probably shouldn’t eat—”

“Solana.” He interrupts, but it’s not with that same irritation he had towards Sami and Paul. “I’m fine. My numbers weren't that bad. The doctor is just being over cautious.”

She wants to believe him, wants to not be as…bothered by this as she is, but something tells her Roman isn’t unlike most men who downplay these sorts of things.

Letting the conversation go, her determination to help him maintain his health remains.

The conversation shifts to a dialogue between the twins and Roman, the three men conversing in Samoan. She doesn’t mind this, as it also allows her the space to catch the gaze of Bayley and Naomi who look freaking amazing in their gear.

“Soso.”

“I swear to God, if you call her that one more fucking time—”

Jey, possibly foolishly, waves off Roman’s threat. “You understand Yeet, right?”

Blinking twice, she asks, “what?”

“Yeet,” Jimmy says it too, like it’s as basic a word as they come. “Our motto.”

“I—” Honesty is a bit easier with her husband’s cousins. “N–no.”

“Man,” Jey makes a sound with his teeth and jumps right into the explanation. “It’s like a way of life. Like, you yeet when life going good—”

“—when life going bad.”

“—or when you leaving.”

“—or going.”

“It’s a way of life.”

Jimmy and Jey playing off of each other for their presentation is entertaining, at best, but it doesn’t leave her any less confused than she was just a minute ago.

“I—I still don’t get it.”

And that, for the first time, is when Solana hears Roman laugh. It’s not something she ever thought possible, but it’s there, his handsome face turned into an amusing expression as he expresses vindication. “I told you it was fucking stupid.”

“See, I thought we was close, Soso. I thought we was becoming family and shit, but I see you a hater like your husband.”

At that, Jey punches his brother on the arm, reminding with a rough mutter, “man, she be cooking, don’t be fucking up our good thing.”

“Aww shit.” Jimmy quickly moves to backtrack. “I mean, I could see your point.”

Conversation continues as such until the start of the night, Solana watching as the three men around her easily shift into an almost business mode. Their gazes are almost intense, watching closely as matches begin.

Solana partially expected to have to sit and remain quiet for the evening, but certain moves, similar to what Naomi and Bayley have taught her, catch her attention. And it must show, because Solana finds herself occasionally being asked by Roman if she has any questions or if she understands why a fighter did a certain mood.

Some she can answer. Some she cannot.

So she asks him.

And he answers all of them, clearly, concisely, in a way she can understand.

If Roman is irritated by any of her questions, he does a damn good job not showing as such. And to her credit, she does her best to take a guess vs asking outright with certain things, pulling from her time with Bayley and Naomi.

And in certain matches, she’s fully immersed in watching their expertise that questions aren’t even a thing. Like the tag team match between two of the most beautiful women she’s ever seen, Jade and Bianca, as Roman called them. Same with Naomi and Bayley who independently show her a side of their ruthlessness she figured existed but hadn’t seen firsthand until tonight.

“Do you all learn how to fight when you’re kids?”

“More or less,” Roman answers, and Solana has a hard time not staring, not being caught up by how handsome this man really is. “This life….it’s kill or be killed. So to not be killed, you learn how to fight. How to survive.”

Survive…

Solana has such a complicated relationship with that otherwise simple word.

“How come….how come you don’t fight as much?” She’s wondered about this, come up with speculation but would like to know for certain, especially as he seems to be in a relatively decent mood.

Like most things, he keeps his answer nice, simple, and vague. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone.”

“Did–did you?” He looks over at her, and warmth rises back as she tries to clarify. “At some point, I mean.”

Again, it’s a one-worded response. “Yes.”

She’s not entirely sure just what he’s saying ‘yes’ to, but a full blown out explanation was never expected. He doesn’t seem like the type. But something more would have been….nice. Granted, Solana realizes she’s probably pushing her luck in asking all these questions anyway and sits back in her seat, relegating herself to focusing on the current match.

The chill of the arena makes its reminder yet again as Solana crosses her arms over her body, trying to warm herself. The man beside herself notices this, accurately assessing, “you’re cold.”

True to her nature, Solana shakes her head, downplaying the fact that she is very much cold. “I’m fine.”

Downplaying or being outright dishonest is clearly something Solana would do well to push away, because it seems like this man is capable of seeing right through any and all lies.

Roman shifts forward in his seat and removes his jacket, reaching it to her. “Here.”

Rejection would be rude. It would also make her feel even more bad than she already does at inconveniencing him. Still, her options are really singular, meaning there are no others. Only one.

Mustering a small smile, she accepts his objectively kind gesture, sliding her arms through and adjusting as best she can given their size difference. Warmth overcomes her as well as the scent of his collage, something masculine, almost minty. It fits him.

Silence befalls them for a comfortable while before Solana excuses herself to use the bathroom, Roman only nodding in acknowledgment.

It’s in walking down the hall that Solana sees Jade and Bianca chatting away, admiring their championship belts. The taller of the two, Jade, happens to glance her way and smiles, exclaiming, “Girl, you are wearing the hell out of that dress!”

“Absolutely killing it,” Bianca also compliments, her smile just as genuine and affable.

Solana is certain she’s just staring dumbly for a good couple of seconds, because such a compliment from two objectively stunning women towards her was the last thing she expected.

Descending off her shock, she offers an equally genuine smile and expression of appreciation. “Thank you so much.”

The compliment keeps that smile planted on her face. It’s so unexpected but deeply appreciated.

Solana dries her hands and tosses the used paper towels in the trash. It’s a brief glance at herself in the mirror that serves as the start of the slippery slope, landing her back in a brief state of uncertainty. The dress is so revealing, much more revealing than anything she could or would ever wear. But it’s hard to think or sit too much in that discomfort when the night has consisted of several compliments. Sami, Jimmy, Jey, now Bianca and Jade. Not to mention the biggest one, or maybe the one that gives her the most butterflies, coming from Roman.

“Fuck, you look good.”

Her smile shifts from something more silly to something a bit more bashful, her cheeks warming at someone as handsome and powerful as Roman Reigns thinking that she looks good.

Thinking that she’s beautiful.

A toilet flushes from the only other taken stall, and the door opening reveals the perfect reason why Solana should have just went straight back to join Roman instead of having a mental discourse in the bathroom.

Samantha’s long, shapely legs are the first thing Solana notices along with the way her dress melts to her toned, curvy body. She looks good, and she has to know that she looks good. A woman like her probably has men lined up by the dozen, Roman being at the front of that line.

Samantha’s dark lips form into a smirk as she walks over to the sink. “Surprised to see you tonight.” She moves to wash her hands. “After that not so little incident a while back, I figured that was the last day you’d step foot in here.”

Solana swallows. She’s managed to not think about that day since it happened. Samantha bringing it up is definitely salt on an open wound. “I—umm.”

“Nice dress. A lil snug though. Maybe go up a size next time?” Her voice, so sweet and sugary, is also venomous and knowing. “Or two.”

Solana’s hands naturally move to her stomach, forearms trying to block the part of her body she hates the most and is certain Samantha is primarily referring to.

“Sage, right?” She doesn’t give Solana a chance to respond. “Let me give you some advice. Woman to woman.”

Something tells Solana she’s not going to like this advice.

Samantha dries her hands and walks up to Solana. “I know you’re Roman’s wife, but you can’t seriously think that means anything to him, right? It’s just a title, and he’ll defend you only because it’s defending his pride.” Solana tries to not put too much into Samantha’s hurtful words, but it’s hard not to when Solana knows Roman continues to be intimate with this woman, even after their marriage. She can’t blame him for that, though, especially since he’s definitely not getting it from her. Still, it does sting a bit. “Trust me, I’ve known him very well since we were in high school.” Samantha smirks, chuckling. “So, I would know.”

“Bitch, you don’t know shit.”

The last voice Solana expected to enter the conversation was that of Nia’s. But sure enough, Roman’s’ cousin stands near the bathroom door, arms crossed over her body.

Samantha’s expression sours tremendously as she icily greets the other woman, bigger, stronger, maybe even prettier. “Nia.”

Nia ignores the greeting and comes to stand near Solana, immediately going in on the slender women. “If you know him so well and you supposedly mean that much to him, how come it’s not you with a wedding ring on your finger?” Solana says nothing, keeping her gaze down, but it doesn’t stop her from also thinking about that very valid question. Just why didn’t Roman marry Samantha? “Or better yet,” Solana glancing back up allows her to see Nia’s cruel smile. “Why is it Solana’s name he said when he was fucking you?”

What?

Solana is visibly shaken by that because where in the hell did that even come from? There’s no way that can be true. No way Roman could be in bed with someone like Samantha and say her name.

But Samantha is visibly disturbed, lip almost curling into an almost snarl as she spits, “fuck you, Nia.”

“I’d call you Solana too, so I don’t think you’d want that.”

Samantha storms out of the bathroom without another word leaving Solana alone with Nia, Solana who is still trying to process what was just said and finds herself asking Nia.

“Is—is that true? Did you—did you really hear about Roman—ummm—”

Typically, Solana would keep her questions in the safety of her mind, but this…..this feels almost impossible to not seek clarification on.

“You know he’s my cousin, right?” Nia looks visibly disgusted but still answers her question. “I would never make something up like that about family. Samantha is a blabber mouth that doesn’t realize she shares her shit with that dumbass best friend of hers, Tiffy, and the whole town knows.”

The answer is appreciated, but it still leaves Solana with so many questions.

“I—I don’t understand.” Again, it’s something meant to stay inside but manages to slip past the cracks.

“God, you are naive.” Nia rolls her eyes and explains while crossing her arms. “Sweetie, if a man is balls deep in Woman A and says Woman B’s name, Woman A is not who he wants.”

That seems almost inconceivable to Solana. For Roman to think she looks good and maybe even consider her beautiful is one thing, but for him to desire her in that way is something entirely different.

She doesn’t know what to do with this information.

“Don’t let that skinny bitch get to you.” Nia seems eager to switch the conversation to something different. “She’s a pussy. All bark and no bite. Remember, you have the ring on your finger. You just have to put her in her place one good time, and she’ll leave you be. And if not, let Roman know. He’d never hurt or kill her himself, but he’d definitely ask me to, and truth be told, I’ve wanted to snap that bitch’s neck since high school, so you’d be doing everyone a favor.”

Solana can’t allow herself, or maybe more so doesn’t have the capacity, to think about that right now. She’s still trying to get a grip on chapter one. Still, she offers a quiet ‘thank you’ to Nia, turning to leave when the taller woman says her name. Solana turns back around. “Yes?”

Nia sighs and rolls her eyes. “I know you think I hate you, but I don’t. I may hate how soft you are, but I don’t hate you.” Nia then smirks with an almost playful add on of, “I don’t care enough about you to hate you.”

________

As expected, Roman is immediately asking what took so long the second Solana is back in her seat.

Her excuse is weak. She tells him that there was a line, but it’s the best thing she can come up with on the spot. His expression is all the answer she needs that he certainly doesn’t believe her but will let it go.

For now.

The rest of the night seems to be more of a blur, Solana now more consumed with trying to wrap her head around this newest bit of information.

The twins end up finishing off the event with a brutal but successful match where they, as expected, retain their tag team titles.

Solana could see this, understandably, pleased Roman.

And outside of some constructive criticism towards Jey and Jimmy, Roman expressed his desire to leave as soon as they got cleaned up, which took less time than she expected. He’s guiding them, her, out to leave, her hand still in his, when a thickly accented voice calls the attention of the man beside her.

“Roman Reigns.”

Solana can barely turn around to the source of the voice when Roman’s muscled arm is stretched across her body, moving her behind him, his big body serving as an impenetrable shield.

Because of their height difference, Solana can’t see a whole lot outside of the instant shift of security and even the twins toward whoever this person is.

“How wonderful for you to bless us with your presence so soon after WarGames.” The man scoffs, clearly trying to bait Roman. “What is this, the second appearance in how many years? Hell hath fuckin’ froze over.”

Solana catches a brief glance of the mystery man and gasps. He has an imposing figure, similar to Roman but there’s something cold about him, something….sinister.

“How dare you acknowledge the Tribal Chief—” Roman lifts his hand to silence Paul.

Roman simply states, “talk.”

“You know what I want, Reigns.” Solana hears a footstep and notices how Roman makes a subtle movement that results in the twins also moving closer towards her, shielding her from this man. “You don’t deserve that title. You may have been a fighter then, but you ain’t now. You’re about the Bloodline, and I respect that, mate, but the Undisputed title deserves to be with someone who defends it more than once a fucking year.”

“So what, you think you the one who gon’ take it? Man, we outta kill your ass right now for talking out your neck like that to our Tribal Chief!”

Solana hates being unable to see Roman, to see his face, to be able to gauge and read his facial expressions. He’s an enigma of a man, typically oscillating between irritated, angry, and indifferent, but not having the option altogether to know where he currently lands is bothersome. Especially with what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do something.”

Solana freezes. That….that can’t be good.

“You standing up on me. You make a good tough guy face. Do something.”

Solana’s fingers tap against her side, that familiar knotting in her stomach returning. She glances over at Jey who seems to also be a bit confused by Roman’s response.

“Uce—”

Roman ignores him. “Go on. Pull it.”

Jimmy speaks up this time, rough voice quiet but urgent. “Roman, we got Solana here—”

“Come on. Make it happen. What’s different? Ain’t nothing changed. Think back to the last time you challenged me.” Solana hates when Roman moves away from her, because it means he’s a step closer to this man, this man who seems determined to pick a fight with the Tribal Chief and may get just that. “Think about it. I whooped you then. I’ll whoop you now.” Roman speaks with such a confidence about him, the most violent, straightforward promise of sure brutality she’s ever heard from a man. “Ain’t nothing changed.”

Solana isn’t necessarily thinking about what she’s doing when she suddenly moves herself in between Roman and this man who’s apparently hellbent on getting her husband riled up. It’s another unconscious act as she plants her palms against his chest, both relieved and nervous by how his gaze instantly drops to hers.

Solana licks her lips and finds herself pleading in an unexpectedly calm yet typically soft voice. “Let’s just go.” His initial expression of fury and simmering anger seems to lessen the longer he looks at her, and Solana adds on, desperately. “Please.”

This act of boldness is completely unplanned and entirely stems from Solana unable to stop thinking about how Roman being so upset all the time can’t be good for his blood pressure. It can’t be good for his health.

And for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, that bothers her. It concerns her.

Him not being healthy concerns her.

What does not surprisingly concern her is when Roman moves his hands down to her hips and almost gently moves her to the side, forcing her hands to drop. She expects him to lunge at the other man or to scold her for interfering, but he does neither.

He steps toward him and simply states with all the coldness, “you’ve got your match, but I set the date when I want it.” Solana’s more or less holding her breath, waiting for Roman to strike the man, or worse. “But know this, McIntyre, you step in that ring with me again, I’m not just ending your career this time, I’m ending your fucking life.”

Roman’s threat sends uneasy chills down her spine. There’s no mistaking Roman’s promise, something she’s certain he will be sure to fulfill.

He then takes her hand again and moves her to the side opposite of the man who looks like he hates Roman as much as Roman probably hates him. Solana is almost entirely eclipsed by Roman’s big body as he walks her past the ordeal.

The car ride is a bit uncomfortably silent, Solana recognizing that Roman is still seething from the exchange but most likely waiting until she’s out of his vicinity to express that rage.

But, it's when she’s walking back in the house after letting Dulce do her business that Roman catches and speaks to her.

“Solana.” He’s leaning back against the counter, big arms crossed over his muscular body. He’s so….big. “What happened when you went to the bathroom tonight?”

She can’t be surprised, can’t feel caught off guard by his question. It’s still not something she necessarily wants to talk about or knows how to discuss, but she’ll do the best she can.

“I ran into Samantha.” Taking a deep breath, she tries her hardest to keep it vague but still an acceptable answer. “I don’t—I don’t think she likes me.”

At that, Roman nearly growls, “what did that bitch say to you?”

Solana winces at his tone. “It wasn’t that bad…”

He’s quick with the dismissal and redirection. “That’s not what I asked you.”

“She just—she just talked about my outfit, that—that was it, because Nia came in there, and well, I don’t—I think Nia might hate her more than she hates me.”

Roman sighs, running his hand over his face. “I’ll handle Samantha.” Before Solana can protest, he adds, “Nia doesn’t hate you.”

This brings a small smile to Solana’s face. “That's what she said.”

Roman also looks slightly amused by this, studying her for a second. “Solana.” The surprises keep on coming, because he takes an unexpected turn in the conversation. “I almost lost my temper tonight.”

This….this feels true. His issuance of threats were delivered in an almost calm manner, but it was more deceptive than anything. Like a setup for violence that was potentially about to unfold if she didn’t interfere.

Still, nothing ended up happening, so it doesn’t make sense for him to act like it did.

“But, you didn’t,” she points out quietly, offering a bit of an olive branch. “And….you were upset.”

Solana would maybe argue that he’s always in varying states of upsetness, but that’s not the point of the conversation at hand.

“I have no shortage of enemies, Solana.” His voice takes on a darker, almost subdued tone. It makes her previously amused expression slip into something more somber. “But, I need you to know that I would never do anything that would put you in danger. Drew wanted to issue his challenge. That’s it. He wasn’t going to do anything, because he wants an audience for that. I had it under control.” Solana isn’t questioning that nor did she plan to, but Roman’s next question definitely takes her for a loop. “Were you scared?”

It’s a valid, understandable question that she didn’t think about until this moment. There was anxiety, maybe some element of fear but also concern, so she decides to play down the first two.

“I wasn’t scared.” It was more concern than fear, which, in her mind, are two different things. “Just….confused about what was happening.”

“That’s not what I meant.” His dismissal is nicer than what anyone else would receive. “Of me, Solana. Were you scared of me?”

Another valid question that she’s actually been thinking about on and off for the past few weeks. Solana would like to consider herself not naive to a lot of things about this life that she was born into. She knows that most of the people who surround her are killers. And Roman is no different. The king of that, maybe.

But…..

But, he’s done nothing thus far to make her ever believe she would ever be subjected to that side of him. If anything, he’s worked to stress and help her understand that she’d never be hurt by him. And adding up all of the things he’s done to support said message, Solana feels it only appropriate to be honest with him.

About more than just his question.

“When—-when the twins asked earlier today if I wanted to go in the pool, I got nervous because—-” Solana displays her textbook signs of discomfort with the stammering and playing with her fingers but still manages to get out what she wants to share. “Wes, he used to…..hold my head under water until I almost passed out.” Solana looks away for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “That……that’s who I’m afraid of.” Solana manages to set her gaze back on Roman, almost confidently assuring, “I’m not scared of you, Roman.”

He steps toward her, and Solana’s eyes never leave his, mindful of the way his hand lifts, tensing when he rests it against her face, palming her cheek almost gently. Solana stiffens but easily shifts into something not calm but not on edge either. “You don’t have to be scared of him anymore, of anyone. I won’t let anyone else ever hurt you again.”

And for the first time, she believes him without the speck of doubt and uncertainty in the backseat. Solana has seen nothing from the man before her to indicate otherwise. She doesn’t know a lot of things regarding him, regarding them, regarding just why he’s so hellbent on defending her, but one thing she’s realized is that he’s intentional and determined with his dedication to protect her.

This is similar, very similar, too similar to that night where her fears got the best of her, where she was unable to overpower the discomfort and fear. But, this isn’t that night, and Solana doesn’t feel that building dread in the core of her stomach. It could be the fact that it’s only one hand on her, cupping her face. Nowhere else.

It could even be a very early sign that maybe, just maybe, that book she was given so long ago really does have the healing properties someone from so long ago once promised.

There’s even her conversation with Nia from earlier that sits in the back of her mind, the undeniable confirmation of Roman’s attraction to her. Enough to where he would say her name during that.

Whatever the case, she doesn’t move away, just nods quietly, slowly moving away from him.

“I’m—I’m gonna get ready for bed.”

Roman says nothing, also nodding as acknowledgment, watching as Solana grabs Dulce and disappears out of his sight but not the front of his mind.

________

The Reigns estate is as spacious as it is grandiose. There are several ways and paths to reach a destination.

So, Roman doesn’t have to pass Solana’s room to reach his bedroom. There’s an alternative route in coming from where he was working, but he decides this specific way for reasons he’s not entirely sure of.

It ends up being a good decision because it’s in walking past her door that he hears low scraping against said door. Instantly, he knows it’s Dulce clearly needing to go outside. And she confirms as such with her soft whimpering.

Rolling his eyes, Roman opens the door just enough for Dulce to run out, stopping when she sees it’s him. He glances at the bed to see Solana sleeping, open book on her chest, indicating she fell asleep while reading.

Dulce whines again, and he chides quietly, “be quiet before you wake her up.”

Dulce’s ears go down as Roman picks up the puppy that’s still too little to walk up and down the steps, hence needing human transportation. It’s annoying, but he brings her down the steps and out the backyard.

Settling her down, he instructs, “go on. Do whatever you gotta do.”

He’ll give the dog some credit where credit is due. She’s far more obedient than he expected for a puppy, because in less than 10 minutes, she’s emptied her bladder and is being carried back to Solana’s room.

Roman is careful to lay her little ass back in her bed, aware of her bristle looking legs that would probably break with one bad drop.

Rising back to his full height, he catches Solana turning on her side, the shift in position causing the book to slip and almost fall out the bed, but Roman is fast, catching it before the crash and potential disturbance can wake her up.

Naturally, he glances at the front cover, noticing the age of the book. But the aging look doesn’t mean shit to him when he sees the title and a piece of paper that clearly has Solana’s handwriting. He doesn’t read that, wanting to respect her privacy, but he definitely reads the title, and it instantly shifts his entire mood.

The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse

It shifts his mood from his default state or irritation to quiet rage.

There’s only one reason she would be reading this book, working out of this book. And it’s not that he didn’t already know she’d been violated in one way or another. Her medical records confirmed as such.

But, he was thinking she was a teenager, not any better, but definitely not a fucking child.

Someone hurt her when she was still a child, a literal goddamn kid, and this is something Roman cannot find it in him to avoid investigating. He’s always been a man uncomfortable with unanswered questions, and there are no shortage of them in regards to Solana. Not that he would ever put her in a position to answer them. No. He wouldn’t do that to her, would never make her share something like that with him.

But, he does know someone else he can demand answers from.

Two people, actually. One of them being shit out of luck after narrowly avoiding Roman’s wrath from earlier today in learning that he fucking tortured Solana.

Roman carefully places the book on her nightstand and makes sure Dulce is still in her bed on the other side of Solana’s before quietly closing the door.

Roman is down the hall, powerful strides taking him to his room as he pulls out his phone, dialing the one person he knows for a fact will answer his call at any time. Hitting dial and switching it to speaker, Roman tosses his phone on the bed to get dressed.

Sure enough, he answers on the second ring.

Roman jumps right into it. “Meet me at the Miller house. Get your brothers.”

Solo only pauses for a second, answering in that stoic voice, “we’ll be there in 30.”

Not good enough.

“Make it 20.”

________

As expected, Roman is met at the Miller house by his cousins, all three.

Slamming the car door shut, Roman hears Jimmy yawning loudly. “Man, why the hell is we here?”

Ignoring his older brother, Solo straightens his stance and informs, “I had Pearce disable the security system.”

“Good.” It’s the fact that Solo already knew to do so without being told. Moments like this is when Roman knows he made the right decision promoting and moving Solo up the ranks. He’s more than proved himself.

“I have questions. Miller has answers.” Roman’s answer there is intentionally vague. Solana’s trauma is no one’s business but her own, and just because he is also aware doesn’t mean he needs to broadcast it. “And Solana told me today her brother used to waterboard her.”

“Waterboarding? Like actual fucking torture?” This information seems to awaken both the twins, eliciting angry reactions. “What the fuck is wrong with his ass?”

“We killing them, right?” Jey, forever the hothead and also relatively equal with Roman in terms of how quickly he travels from zero to one-hundred, is the first to ask the most obvious question.

“No. Not tonight. That would be too easy.” And it would. Roman meant that shit when he said he wanted their asses to suffer. “But that doesn’t mean we have to make living easy for them.”

They don’t deserve to live, let alone living easy lives. Not when they’ve done everything seemingly possible to make Solana’s miserable.

Roman then looks towards the twins, instructing, “take care of the brother.” It’s not a necessary directive, but he doesn’t hesitate to add, “make him fucking suffer.”

He then motions for Solo to follow him, the men headed toward the house as Roman swears out loud, “Xavier is mine.”

Roman steps back as Solo waits zero time in shattering the large window in the living room, providing an entrance for the men. Roman grabs his gun, nodding for the twins to move first, followed by Solo, each man armed with a gun. It’s unnecessary, Roman is certain as they’re more likely to find father and son in the midst of illicit acts vs prepared for the onslaught headed their way.

Up the stairs and on the second floor, Roman quietly motions for them to split up, Solo and the twins to the right while he moves to the left, the most likely location of the master.

Solo seems to give him an uneasy expression, but Roman simply nods and heads toward his target.

Xavier is his.

The combination of the brothers works just as Roman predicted, them successfully locating the brother’s bedroom, confirmed by his horrified shout of ‘what the fuck!

It’s followed up with a shout of pain and Jey yelling “Get your bitch ass up!” and “Solo, fill up the tub!”

Pleased, Roman is standing directly outside of Xavier’s door when the older man rips the door open, face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. That quickly morphs into fear when he realizes just who is responsible for this attack.

Roman brings the gun across upside Miller’s head, watching the man fall down and writhe in pain, holding his hand against his now bleeding head.

Undeterred, Roman reaches down, yanking the man up by his neck as he jolts his body against the nearest wall. “We need to talk.” Straight to the point and not in the mood for any bullshit this fucker may try to spew his way, Roman demands, “I want to know what the fuck happened to my wife.”

And there’s a brief but telltale sign that Xavier knows exactly what he’s referring to without Roman even needing to elaborate.

That only pisses him off even more.

Still, Xavier stutters, shaking his head, “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Roman gives a bitter smile, shaking his head and scratching his beard. It’s the last thing he’s certain Xavier sees before Roman again has him up by the collar of his pajama shirt.

“You really want to play these fucking games with me?” It’s a no. It’s a hell no, but Xavier insulting Roman’s intelligence by lying to him indicates the opposite of no. So, Roman will treat him as such. “Who the fuck touched Solana?”

His question is followed up by screaming coming from down the hall, the beautiful sound of a piece of shit getting exactly what he deserves.

“What? Ain’t so tough now, little bitch! Like to beat on women but a pussy when it comes to fighting another man!”

And while it could bring a smile to Roman’s face, Xavier looks horrified in hearing Jimmy’s taunts. Instantly, he’s pleading, pathetic and pitiful, “pl—please.”

“I’d torture and kill that bitch right in front of you tonight if I could.” It pisses Roman off to no end how this man can care so much about his demented son but not give a flying fuck about his innocent daughter. “Now, answer my fucking question, who touched Solana?”

Again, Xavier decides to test Roman’s patience, offering unasked information. “She—she was a virgin before she married you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about her being virgin or not!” She could still be a virgin and have been touched. But truth be told, that shit’s never mattered to him anyway. Virgin or no virgin, it’s always been an irrelevant deciding factor to who he took to bed. “Tell me what happened to her or I’ll blow that bitch son of yours fucking brains out right in front of you—”

Roman pulls the gun from out of the back of his pants, knowing full and well that while he would love to empty the entirety of it in the scum before him, it’s better served torturing him in another sort of manner.

Mentally.

And it does the trick.

“Alright, alright!” Xavier finally caves, sweat bubbling across his wrinkled forehead. “She was raped, alright? Two men broke into the house when she was 12 and attacked her. Beat her real bad. They—they never found them. Okay? That—that’s the truth. That’s what happened.”

No. Not fucking okay. Nothing is fucking okay. Roman wanted answers, felt like he needed them, but knowing the truth, it doesn’t do shit but paint his vision red.

He knew something happened to her.

He just didn’t know how bad.

Raped.

Beaten.

Twelve.

And then another thought hits him, the absolute terror on her face that day when she was faced with what should be the most simplest thing for a person: going into their childhood bedroom.

Roman remembers her fear, the dried blood, the scratches on the wall.

It all makes sense.

She was attacked in her fucking bedroom.

The thought of a child being hurt at all has never sat right with him, but to be hurt in that way. As a child, and for that child to have been Solana.

He’s fucking breathing rage.

“Where the fuck were you, huh?” Roman jerks his body back against the wall, half ready to break this fucker’s neck. “Answer me!”

“I wasn’t home!” Xavier’s sweating has progressed into droplets from his forehead onto the bridge of his nose and shirt. “I—I was out on a fishing trip with Wes.”

A fishing trip…..

This man was out enjoying fucking nature with his dimwitted offspring while his daughter was at home alone fighting for her fucking life.

“You left a 12 year old home alone?” It keeps getting fucking worse. “How long was she alone!” Roman is fully prepared to risk snapping this motherfucker’s neck when he spits out a desperate answer.

“A week. It was just a week.” And if it makes a fucking difference, he desperately adds on, “I—I’d done it before, and she was fine.”

Xavier is either stupid or very stupid, because Roman can’t conceptualize how this imbecile would think the additional information makes it any better.

Solana was hurt.

She was hurt in the worst way possible, and it’s all his fault.

With all of the aggression in his body, Roman throws the piece of shit across the room, intentionally aiming for the glass coffee table that instantly shatters under the weight of his fat ass.

Without a second of fucking hesitation, Roman fires two shots directly into Xavier’s body, one in his right hand and the other in his left foot. Xavier’s shouts of pain do little to dull the unadulterated rage coursing through Roman’s body.

Shouts morph into tiny, pathetic whimpers as Roman slowly walks through the broken glass, tossing his gun to the side as he pulls out the brass knuckles in his back pocket.

“I told Solana I wouldn’t kill you until she gave me the word, and I’m not going to take that from her.” He crouches down besides the now crying older man, crying in the way Roman is certain Solana did when she was alone and helpless. His fury is practically bubbling over now as he coldly vows, “but that doesn't mean I can’t make your life a living fucking hell until then.”

________

Roman walks back into the house with a weight he can’t shake, even with the brutal carnage he unleashed on the Miller household, leaving father and son on the brink of death. That type of violent release typically abates his anger, and it did diminish a lot of it, seeing that piece of shit pummeled into a bloody, broken mess.

But Roman is still plagued with thoughts of the hell Solana endured living in that household. To be attacked in that way in her own home, in her fucking bedroom, it makes Roman want to get right back in his SUV and carry Xavier and his equally piece of shit over the doorstep of death.

But, he couldn’t do that to Solana, take that away from her. He’s just the executioner in this situation. He’ll let the day of reckoning be determined by her because that’s the least she can get.

Coming straight back home, Roman didn’t bother to stop and get himself cleaned up. His guards have seen much worse, and Solana is asleep, so that’s not a concern either.

But, it is a concern because in an almost scene of deja vu, Solana is most certainly not asleep. She’s sitting on the sofa, Dulce right beside her when she hears his heavy footsteps.

Roman doesn’t have time to say anything, too stunned by this happening yet again, even later than he’s returned before.

Why is she up?

Solana jumps up off the sofa and is suddenly standing across from him, her face painted in what’s obviously a moderate to tremendous amount of worry and anxiety.

But, she isn’t looking at him. Not really. She’s more so focused on the blood stained and splattered clothes that adorn him.

“You’re hurt…..” He’s heard her say it the last two times they were in this type of situation, eerily similar in a lot of ways, but this time….this time is different.

It’s different because she rushes over to him, her hand floating over his chest, one place, two place, another place. Like a plane trying to find a safe space to land, she’s unsure where he’s hurt and clearly overwhelmed by it all.

And then he sees it, the blurry overlay of water over her eyes and the slight tremble of her lip.

Roman steps towards her, trying to be respectful of the distance between them. Her discomfort with touch makes all the sense now. “Please don’t cry.” And this is yet another new, unfamiliar, unexposed territory for him, seeing her so distraught at her belief that he’s been hurt. The way that the thought alone clearly wrecks her.

Roman quickly notices the changing of her breathing pattern, heavier, rhythmic almost.

“Shit…..”

Roman has heard this song before.

Realizing this is a matter of de-escalation, he does what’s needed in the moment and brings his hands to her face, cupping her face.

“Solana, breathe, baby.” The term of adoration isn’t even something that really registers with him at the moment, not an intentional addictive or something he gives two fucks about in this moment, really. He’s solely focused on settling the woman in front who’s on the brink of a panic attack.

He can’t see her deal with that again, especially now that he knows just why she had the first one.

Roman has no hesitation in pushing away loose strings of her hair, never once taking his focus off her. “I’m fine, Solana. I’m not hurt. It’s not my blood.” Recognizing she clearly needs to see it, he moves back to lift and toss his shirt on the floor. “See?”

And that seems to do something for her, something to help settle the panic.

Roman watches her and forces himself not to think about the heat that fills him at her hand on his chest, over his heart. It’s all so innocent. Recognizing her breathing has settled into something less alarming and more familiar, he moves his hand over hers, reiterating once more, “I’m fine.” He waits for her to finish taking a deep breath to ask, “why are you up?”

This has to be the third time Roman has come home at an ungodly hour to find her waiting for him, and he’s trying to figure out what the real reason is.

She licks her lip, clearly working her way up to a response. “Dulce had to…..had to use the bathroom, and I saw you weren’t here, and you didn’t answer my text.” Roman curses himself. He was so caught in his uproar that he didn’t even bother checking that thing, never expecting for Solana to be the missed notification on his lock screen. “I just…..I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Roman has heard this part before and tries to navigate how he wants to push back on his belief that it can’t be just that, but Solana surprisingly beats him to it. “I get….I get worried when you’re not here at night and—-and I can’t sleep until—-”

“Until I’m back….”

He has a good guess why. She was attacked in the middle of the night, and he’s also pretty certain he remembers reading that the attack that killed her mother also happened at night.

“Solana…..” For the first time in a while, if ever, Roman is active in his attempts to explain this to her as gently as he can. “What I do…who I am…I can’t always be here.”

“I know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to bother you—”

“You could never bother me, okay?” He wipes away more of her tears, hand back to cupping her face, realizing she’s not going to pull away from him this time. He takes full advantage of that. Roman moves his other hand to the small of her back, holding her against him. It’s not missed upon him how she also brings her other free hand to his chest. “But, I always make it back, alright?” She nods, as he runs his thumb over the apple of her cheek. “Can’t no man put me down.”

She smiles, a little laugh that does more to him than he’d like to admit, that he feels comfortable with. And this settles him. It settles him more than nearly killing her dad and brother for hurting her, directly and indirectly, did.

Solana nods, murmuring a quiet, “o–okay.”

He’s studying her. Closely. Maybe more than what’s necessary. It comes from a place of concern, and he’d admit as such. “Are you good now?”

She nods again, and he believes it enough to let her go, watching her start to walk away when he’s caught off guard again because of her body, so soft and warm, against his again. Her sweet perfume filling his senses, her arms around his neck.

She’s hugging him. Solana is actually hugging him. He can’t remember the last time someone did that shit.

But he doesn’t waste a second of time accepting her embrace that seems to end just as quickly as it began. He can’t be surprised or upset. This is big for her, obviously, and he would never push her past her comfort zone, but he also can’t deny that the absence of her in his arms is noticeable.

And uncomfortable.

Solana murmurs a rushed goodnight and grabs Dulce to head back up the stairs, Roman eyes never leaving her until she’s completely out of view.

Roman stands there for a few good minutes, unsure of what just happened, working to process the same unfamiliar feelings that coursed through him the last time they had a moment like this. It’s the same as before, just ten times stronger, more intense, more consuming.

Unsure of a lot, two things he knows for asbolute fucking certain:

He’s going to find Solana’s rapists and make them pay for every sick fucking thing they did to her.

There’s not a fucking force on earth that could take this girl away from him.

She’s his.

And he’ll protect her with everything in him.

No matter what the cost.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns x poc!oc #roman reigns x reader #arisnotebook

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certifiedsexed · 27 days ago

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is it weird that my little brother and i still bath with my little sister?

for context: my brother (16) is about two years younger than me and we’d always bath together when we were little. to my knowledge, nothing sexual happened - our parents gave us what i’d consider a good understanding of sex ed when we were young, and all either of us can remember is playing together and such with like bath toys and stuff.

but the thing is, we never really outgrew that? like, we don’t routinely bath together anymore, because we don’t fit into the bathtub lol, but we're comfortable being naked around each other and the like, and i’ll often ask him to get stuff for me if i’m the shower and vice versa. but when we’re on holiday and usually somewhere with a bigger bathtub, we’ll often share a bath or two with my little sister (8) so that we can all play with her with her bath toys, bath crayons, etc.

this sort of thing has always been normal in my family — i’ve never felt sexually harassed by them, and we’re all comfortable being naked around each other and know that our boundaries would be respected even if not. my brother and i don’t have any sexual intentions and don’t do anything sexual towards my younger sister — all we do in terms of touching her is to, like, put soap on her back, and we’ve never made any sexual comments or unwanted touches or anything.

but i’ve been starting to think this is weird because of the gap in our ages now. is it? is it something wrong/should we not be doing this? i genuinely don’t know. it’s always been normal and no one has ever expressed any discomfort, and to my knowledge no lines have been crossed, but i don’t want to be missing something if that makes sense? bc like, ive got friends whose parents never even changed in front of them, and i’m worried that my family, not having any of that sort of social stigma against non sexual nudity, is maybe doing something wrong — but i don’t know if we are, yk?

Look, people can find a reason for anything to be weird but siblings bathing together is actually quite common in some cultures and as long as none of you are being forced into it, it's fine.

Nudity in of itself is not an inherently sexual thing. Clearly, this is the culture your parents have raised you in and so far at least, you've all enjoyed it and are quite comfortable with it.

You've not described either of your parents trying to harass you in connection to nudity, none of you are doing anything sexual with each other, no one is being hurt, everything here sounds good!

If your sister were to say she was uncomfortable and you continued doing it, that would be a different matter. But this in of itself just sounds sweet, Anon.

Just because you and your brother are older doesn't mean you can't still play in the bath with your sister or change in front of each other if that's what you want to do.

Honestly, this all sounds fucking adorable and I wish you all the best!

Hope this helps, Anon. Let me know if you have any other questions! <3

#sex education #asks #consent 101 #frfr this sounds sooooo sweet #o7 continue on anon

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 10 months ago

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can I request a Vox x reader fluff where they've both been struggling to come to terms with their feelings but when something (you can decide what) happens and the reader gets hurt really badly, he confesses

ANOOOOOOOOON!! YOU. GET ME. SO GOOD. HOW DARE YOU HIT ME UP WITH ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES?? Literally, give this trope to me as many times as yall want. I'll find a million ways to write it. Reap the repercussions and enjoy the food you beautiful homie, you!

Star-Crossed Idiots [Vox x Reader]

Vox refused to believe it.

Velvette had been the one to call him out on his shit first. Unlike him, she had a semblance of emotional maturity that meant she was perceptive to shit that flew over his head entirely. While he didn't understand why he found himself going out of his way to spend time with you, Velvette figured it out in a matter of days. The very fact that he had kept his involvement with you a secret was suspicious in itself. Not to mention, Velvette realized before he did. When she discovered his feelings for you, she found it hilarious. And a touch pathetic.

"I mean really Vox, you have zero reason to even know them," Velvette scoffed as she sipped on the frappuccino he had used to buy her silence. Things were already messy enough with Valentino. He had no intention of the pissy moth hearing of this until whatever this was, was sorted.

"Yet you constantly check in on their phone activity, go out of your way to run into them on the streets, and now they're even working for you just because your needy ass wanted an excuse to see them on the regular," Velvette listed as Vox did everything in his power to avoid eye contact.

Vox buried his face in his hands and groaned while Velvette rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't it just be easier to ask them out at this point? I love you, darling, but you're making this so much more complicated than it needs to be."

"No," Vox growled as he looked up and shot her a warning glare. "Do you have any idea how much shit we'd be in if I just started dating some random sinner? And that's only if the feelings were mutual."

He ran his hand down his screen with a huff, turning to look at Vark swimming up to the glass. While Vox had originally had the aquarium extend to the meeting rooms for a sense of looming intimidation, he'd found quite a bit of comfort in his sharks being able to follow him through the tower.

"Look, for all we know, I'm just pent up," Vox tried to reason. It sounded fake, even to his own ears, but he was in denial. There was too much bullshit he'd have to face if he really was as whipped for you as he feared. "It's been a shit couple of weeks. I probably just need a break and a good fuck and this will all be something you make fun of me about next week for ever entertaining in the first place."

Velvette shook her head, sighing as she pulled out her phone and started to scroll.

"Whatever you say."

---

You refused to believe it.

There was no way you fell for Vox of all people. For starters, you told yourself you'd never love again! Every time you'd tried, disaster followed. It didn't help that any potential match was one to be made in Hell. Granted, you knew not everyone in Hell was bad. There were a lot of sinners who you firmly believed belonged in Heaven or some sort of equivalent.

But even so... Vox was definitely not one of those people. Not that that was the important part or truly mattered. You were no saint either, you were also in Hell.

"I don't see what the big deal is toots," Angel Dust sighed as he watched you give Fat Nuggets attention to keep your hands busy through the stress. "There are worse people to have a crush on."

"There's better too," you whined. "I'd rather not have a crush at all," you muttered bitterly as your hand continued the soothing action of petting the teacup pig.

You'd originally been on the production team for one of Valentino's studios. That was how you befriended Angel Dust and why Vox scooped you out from under Valentino to work on his own set. He told you it was because he valued someone who had an ear for audio balance, but Angel said he'd only offered you the new job after the overlord walked in on the cameraman flirting with you right before.

"Why not just fuck the guy and see if it's a matter of heart or a matter of-"

You laughed as you covered Angel's mouth with one of your hands. "Okay, okay! Don't... finish that sentence. I won't let you taint poor little Fat Nuggets ears with your porn language."

Angel snickered as you pulled back your hand. "But you see my point, right?"

"I do," you sighed. "But that's... not really my style. If anything, I think it'd just hurt to see him after something like a casual fling. The idea of him wanting my body, but not me? Yeah no. I'll choose the healthier option of repressing my feelings, thank you very much."

"I'm telling ya, he's into you," Angel groaned. "I've seen the way he is with people he thinks are hot. I've seen him with Val. You're different, toots."

You smile sadly at Angel and put Fat Nuggets down on the bed. It was clear you didn't believe Angel and he was on the verge of ripping out his fur because of it. The two of you were so unbelievably oblivious it was gonna kill him again. "Thanks, Angie but... it's okay. Really, it is."

He sighed and eventually let it go. The two of you talked about other things for a while before Charlie peeked into his room to ask for your help on something. Once you were gone, he rolled over the conversation in his mind as he tried to think of ways to get the ball rolling on your love life.

Angel shook his head with a sigh and pulled out his phone. He scooped up Fat Nuggets and flopped back in his bed as the dialing sound filled the room. The line connected, and he was quick to the point.

"Hey, I know we don't really talk, but I've got an idea."

---

"Really Angie, I don't think this was necessary," You grumbled as you tugged down on the all-too-short skirt of the outfit he'd squeezed you into.

"Oh, but it was and it is," Angel grinned as he took your hand and twirled you in the entry hall to the club. You rolled your eyes and let him spin you in jest. He'd asked you to come with him to one of your old coworkers' birthday parties.

Apparently, one of the rules was to dress like you'd get hired to dance at the club. At least, that had been Angel's excuse when you questioned why he was hovering over you as he did your hair, and makeup and held up several outfits to your body that you doubted would fit.

Despite the discomfort of getting all dolled up, you were happy he'd invited you. It had been a while since you saw your old friends. That being said, it would have been more fun if you weren't tugging down your skirt every two minutes. You weren't the only one hyperaware of how much of your skin was exposed. Nor of the way the fabric hugged your frame tightly. Several of your old friends had suggested you return to the studio with a job in front of the camera instead of in the shadows of the set.

You'd been having a good time, sticking to the corner of the room with some of your old friends to watch the drinks while the rest were out on the dance floor. One of the drunker sinners of the bunch accidentally knocked over some of the drinks while she'd been telling a story about the recent cam show she did. You volunteered to go get more napkins from the bar. One of your friends came with you to reorder the ruined drinks and the two of you had nearly pushed your way through the crowd when you heard a familiar voice call your name through the noise.

Vox didn't have to fight through the crowd the way you had. The second sinners saw the glow of his screen, they were quick to move out of his path. Your friend touched your arm, pulling your attention away from the approaching overlord. They winked at you and told you they had the drink issue handled.

When you turned, you caught Vox's screen flickering from pink to his usual blue. You had never seen any color other than the "You don't get to sleep" blue light, so you assumed it was just a trick of the flashing dance lights above.

"I didn't think you'd be here," you say to break the tension. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him in casual wear, nor was it the first time you'd seen Vox since realizing you had feelings for him. Even so, your heart was beating hard just from the sight of him.

"A-Ah yeah, well," Vox stammered as the music blared through the busy room. "Velvette wanted to drop by. She said something about wanting to check the place out as a potential venue for an upcoming show."

"Just the two of you?" you ask, perking up slightly.

"It was supposed to be," Vox chuckled dryly. His grin was tired and forced as he looked to the side and scanned the room. "Valentino heard we were coming here and tagged along. I don't know why, but Velvette got really heated about it. Something about him fucking up her plans..."

"Oh," your shoulders drop. You cringe internally, wishing you could take back the bitterness in your voice. You hoped it wasn't too obvious, but the way Vox was looking at you like you were some sort of a puzzle told you everything you needed to know.

You actually loved Velevette. She was sassy and cutthroat but had a kind side to her as well. Valentino however... He'd been the source of a lot of suffering for the people you cared about. While the more obvious examples of Angel Dust returning to the hotel looking like shit came to mind, so did the times you had to comfort Vox after being yanked this way and that by the moth emotionally.

That was actually how you'd realized you'd come to care for him as deeply as you do. He'd been standing alone in one of the meeting rooms with a distant look on his face. When you found him and asked him if he was okay, he tried to play it off with his usual bravado, but couldn't. He never cried in front of you, he only vented his frustrations about Valentino and you listened. You sympathized. And eventually, you found yourself wishing you could be the one to treat him better.

Vox opened his mouth to say something, only for Valentino to slip his arm around his shoulder, appearing out of nowhere from the crowd.

"There you are baby," he purred, his fingers immediately slipping under the collar of Vox's vest. You resisted the urge to gag as Valentino took a long puff from his pipe and blew the majority of the smoke in your direction.

"I was wondering where you up and fucked off to," Valentino grinned as he leaned down to nip drunkenly at Vox's shoulder. "You left me all alone with our little fashionista, "Valentino scoffed. "She's in such a bitchy mood."

If it wasn't bad enough that Valentino was practically drooling all over Vox in front of you and pretending you weren't there, insult was only added to injury when Valentino grinned at you with sharp teeth when he called Velvette bitchy.

"Come back and unwind with me," Valentino hummed as he started to kiss up Vox's neck. "Some of my best toys are here tonight. Don't you want to play?"

If Vox had any doubt he was in Hell before, he had every reason to confirm the fact at this moment. He'd fallen out of love with Valentino, but the almost... the almost killed him. To make it worse, he was completely frozen, letting it all happen in front of you. He made no moves to stop Valentino, he made no moves to reciprocate. He simply froze.

Unable to watch any longer as Vox continued to fall for the very same game of tug-o-war he told you he was done with, you bite your lip and turn on your heel. You can't tell if you heard Vox say your name or if it was just a trick of the crowd.

"Anyone else gonna drink this?" You asked as you rejoined your friends still at the table and pointed to one of the more full glasses left on the table. When your friends who were sober enough to answer said you could go for it, you tossed it back in one shot.

You griped to one of your friends who had stayed behind to watch over those too drunk to make good choices. The two of you had been having a damn good venting session about how stupid you felt your feelings were when the entire bar swayed. Your words slurred as your body grew heavy.

One second you were sitting up, wondering why your friend looked so concerned. The next second there was a sharp pain against the temple of your forehead, followed by a heavy thunk, more pain, and darkness.

---

Vox had been desperately searching the dance floor for any sign of you. He'd torn away from Valentino and the moth hadn't bothered to follow. Vox would... handle that another time. For as much as he denied his feelings for you this morning, the second he saw the hurt look in your eyes he knew he had to tell you. There was no way he could ignore the sharp lurch in his chest at the sight of you.

He didn't know what it meant. He couldn't tell if it was just a sense of betrayal after he'd been so open with you about Valentino or if it was something more. Every time he found himself wanting to talk about his true feelings on anything, he wanted to talk to you. Every time he had a rare second alone in the middle of the night, the only touch he craved was yours. Yes, he had a history with Valentino, but he didn't actively want that. He wanted you.

He finally spotted you across the room, sitting at a table with one of the whores he'd seen at Valentino's studio and getting way too close to them for his liking. He made his way through the drunken idiots who were too far gone to notice him, keeping his eyes on you as you started swaying dangerously.

You tried to reach down for something on the table and Vox swore as you lost what little balance you had and fell over. Someone got in his way so he didn't see the impact, but somehow he heard it. Through all the noise he heard the sharp thud and the panicked swearing of the person you were with after.

Vox was suddenly shoving every idiot out of his way, ignoring their shouts as he ran into the small clearing and found you on the ground with blood seeping from your head. He was immediately on his knees, scooping you up as the sinner who'd been with you started freaking out.

The only thing Vox could hear was a high-pitched whine as he pulled you to him and tried to frantically find where you were bleeding from. Half of your head was dripping with blood and he vaguely registered your friend saying your head had hit the edge of the table.

"Just s̴̢̃ḧ̸̺u̸͇͋t̷̯͂ ̷̬̂u̶͖̓p̵̳͗!̶̳͌," Vox snapped as he whipped up and affixed the sinner with a violent glare. He didn't care that half the club was looking at him. For once, he didn't care that he'd made a scene. Logically, he knew something like this couldn't kill you, you were all already dead. But his hands were shaking violently and the buzzing in his head was getting louder because you weren't moving.

Everything around him flashed with bright blue light as he held you close and teleported out of the club without even thinking about it. The two of you reappeared in his room back at the tower and he let out a shaky breath as he placed you down on his bed.

Not knowing what to do, Vox quickly crossed the room and threw his bathroom door open as he searched for anything he could use to stop the bleeding. He was muttering furiously as he nearly ripped the hinges off the cupboard under the sink looking for anything he could use.

Vox let out a loud, angry shout as his body kept glitching. His movements were jerky and he'd hit his head on the sink twice now. Just as he was about to have an absolute meltdown, he heard you groan from his bedroom. His head snapped up and he turned around at the sound of your voice so fast he was surprised he didn't snap his own neck.

Vox yanked a towel off of the wall and scrambled across the nylon tiles as he fell into his room with all the grace of a CEO that he clearly had. He swore, picking himself up and coming over to you as you sat up and clutched your head.

"Shit, that stuff was stronger than I thought," you groaned. "Note to self, don't just chug random alcohol at the club." you tried to laugh, only to hiss as the pain in your head doubled down due to the movement.

"You're a fucking idiot," Vox sighed as he sat down next to you and lifted the towel to your head.

You flinched at the contact, and Vox grabbed your wrist with his free hand. "Stay still," he frowned, pressing again on the wound. "You're still bleeding."

Trying not to do more damage, you stay as still as possible while he tries to stop the bleeding. The silence is heavy between the two of you before you mumble quietly.

"Sorry..."

Vox blinks, frowning down at you. "For what?"

You avoid eye contact the best you can given your current condition and fist your hands on your thighs nervously. "For acting like an idiot. You've told me about how hard it is with Valentino. I should've said or done something and not have gotten..."

"Upset?" Vox finished for you quietly. You flinched, unable to read the tone in his voice. He sighed and slowly lifted the towel from your head, before lowering it. "Why did you?"

"It's stupid," you bite your lip, hand drifting up curiously to see how bad the wound is. Before your fingers could brush against your hair, Vox's hand grabbed your wrists again.

"Try me."

You couldn't say if it was due to the pain, blood loss, or alcohol in your system, but the moment you finally gathered the courage to look him in the eye, you said fuck it. Vox gasped as you surged forward and pressed your lips against his. He'd barely had a chance to process the feeling before you were already turned away from him and rambling some bullshit about how you knew he didn't feel the same.

He took your hand, ignoring the anxious nonsense flowing from your mouth, and lifted it to his lips. Your speech died on your tongue as his lips pressed against the palm of your hand.

"Do you have any idea how much you've been on my mind?" He growled softly, his lips trailing up your arm slowly as he practically worshiped your skin.

If it wasn't for the fact that your blood was still on his hands, Vox would have been so much more rough with you. He would have grabbed you and crashed his lips against yours. He would have torn the fabric that hugged your curves so tightly off of your body and shown you just how badly he'd been needing you.

Instead, he made do with tracing his claw under your chin and guiding you to face him properly. His eyes searched yours for any doubt or sign that you'd acted purely on adrenaline and not something more. When your breath hitched and your cheeks flushed, he knew. As he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, as his arms snaked down and pulled you flush against him like you'd break, as your fingers found a home in his vest he knew.

You wanted him too. You fell for him too. This wasn't a game of "do they, don't they" like the one he'd played with Valentino for so fucking long.

His breath hitched, his arms tightening around you before he slowly pulled back and laughed breathlessly.

"Does this mean we're dating?" you ask, smiling at him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

"God that sounds cheesy," Vox grimaced. The phrase felt so... high school bullshit. But it wasn't wrong. He wanted that. He really wanted that with you.

He reached down, hesitating before his clawed hand gently covered yours. "But yeah... I guess it does," he smiled softer than you'd ever seen before.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #god this is probably so messy #i'll edit it later #come get your food im going to bed

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hughiecampbelle · 5 months ago

Text

The Boys Preference: Being A Spy

Requested: Hi!! i love your content, i wanted to request maybe a preference how the boys + homelander would react if reader turned out to be a secret spy. for example, for the boys reader would spy for homelander and vice versa. i hope i worded it okay. Thanks 💓💓💓💓 - anon

A/N: This is such a fun idea!!! But it also hurts my heart lol. I hope you like it my love!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher wants revenge. He trusted you. He trusted you with information about Vought and Homelander (of which you already knew), but also about Becca and Ryan and Lenny. Things he wouldn't have shared with anyone else. They don't do tracking chips like Vought, though now he wishes they had. The second they find out you're working for Homelander, Butcher sees red. He's furious and yelling and ordering everyone. He feels out of control. As if raising his voice and making others listen to him will take all their secrets back. Will give him his power back. It won't. It doesn't. He makes a promise that if he ever comes face to face with you again, he'll kill you. He'll do it with his hands, not a knife or gun. He wants to take back his power.

Hughie is heartbroken. He opened up to you. He talked to you about Robin, and his parents, and even that night at Teks party. You knew every embarrassing story about him and all the songs he listened to and his complicated relationship with Annie, especially in the past few weeks. You weren't a threat or another Vought Supe, you were different. You were supposed to be different. When he finds out you've been working with Homelander he feels humiliated. You've seen every side of him, no matter how silly or stupid or whatever, and you still turned your back on him, on everyone. You never really cared in the first place. He doesn't fall into total denial, but a small part of him insists this isn't true. He doesn't say it, he doesn't vocalize it, but an even smaller part of him wishes you'd come back and explain. He just wants to know why you did it.

Annie knew something was up. She couldn't put it into words, she couldn't describe it, it was just a feeling. The feeling like, from season two, she describes walking around the tower feeling like there was a loaded gun in her face. You were the most powerful Supe she'd ever met. You were powerful and dangerous and that made her feel uneasy. You smiled when you were supposed to and laughed and you said all the right things, but there was just something off. After her time with Stormfront, she's gotten better at seeing people's true intentions. Or, at least, nor trusting the facade they throw on. She blames herself for not realizing, for not saying anything. Maybe if she had, it would have saved the team from all this heartache.

M.M. hates that he ever trusted you in the first place. You are a Supe, after all, and he never would have let a Supe near him or his friends. But you were so convincing, so sweet, so thoughtful. You really had him fooled. You had them all fooled. When it comes out that you were working for Homelander, he doesn't retreat into himself like Kimiko or seek revenge like Butcher. All the feelings he has, all the anger and hatred and shame, it all turns on himself. He blames himself. He should have seen who and what you were, your intentions. He should have been the one to realize what you were up to. But even looking back on it now, going through everything, he still can't pinpoint the red flags. You were just that good, just that believable.

Frenchie is in denial. You? Working for Homelander? That can't be. You worked together, you laughed together, you scraped off blood and guts together. This cannot be. M.M. and Butcher get especially angry at him when he vocalizes his denial. Even Kimiko will yell-sign at him, begging him to come to terms with it. You were a part of the team, you were his friend. He can't turn his back on you just like that. Whatever information you had given Homelander, it must've been a mistake. He really cared about you. He thought you cared about him. All this time, though, you were working for them. You were reporting back to them. If he can't trust you, who can he trust? For now, he's in denial. It's easier this way. It makes him feel better about the while situation.

Kimiko retreats into herself. Like after her fight with Stormfront, after losing Kenji, she hides under that table and watches TV and doesn't talk to anyone. You and Kimiko were close. You were almost as fluent as Frenchie. She told you about when her and him kissed, she told you about being scared from the virus, everything. She never thought you would have been part of Vought. She never would have suspected it. Ever. You were a Supe, but that wasn't enough to make you a bad person. Now she's hurting all over again. She's angry and sad and ashamed. She's furious and she can't take it out on anyone or anything. She yells at Frenchie who's deep in his denial, which makes everything worse. It just makes everyone else angrier.

Bonus! Homelander is furious. He's lethal. You disappear long before he realizes, taking out your chip and going into hiding with The Boys. It's been days since you were even in the tower and he uses everyone to look for you. The Deep and New Noir are absolutely fucking useless, so it's up to him and Firecracker to track you down. Sage rubs it in his face that she knew the whole time, which isn't helpful either, but it's part of a larger plan she's had, but does not disclose fully. Homelander wants you dead. He trusted you. He let you in on his life, his secrets, and you were just using him. No one uses Homelander. He's not going to let you get away with it. He's not going to let you see another day. You fucked him over. That's unacceptable.

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death---dealer · 7 months ago

Text

Cross Roads. ( Noa x Human!Reader ) Part Seven.

Ha ha ha

Title: Cross Roads. Fandom: (Kingdom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( We got some violence, some injury, mentions of mating. ) Pairing: Implied ! Noa x Human!Reader. Words: 7.1K ( uuuuuuuuu every word is pained. ) Summary: Everything seemed to bubble to the surface. Expect what was actually needed to be said. READ THE SERIES HERE.

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“I asked Echo… to stay.” Noa was hesitant with the words he chose to tell his friends. His green eyes flickered to theirs for the reactions, which admittedly, in the moment, didn't seem too bad. Well, until the words finally sunk in and Soona’s eyes met Noa’s with a bit of a widened stance and flurried worry, Anaya put it together and sputtered, grasping the side of his head with both hands before gesturing broadly at the hut where the Echo was before gesturing back at Noa.

The Leader only nodded in confirmation to Anaya’s silent inquiry. “Cannot tell anyone! Secret… Very…” He paused and pressed his lips together firmly into a coiled line of nerves, “Very… important to me.”

“Eagle Clan is more important than Noa’s wants!” Anaya yapped, Noa groaned deeply in his chest as a Bonobo came rolling by with their Eagle holding some fish, spotting the trio a rather curious look at Anaya’s statement. Reaching forward, he grabbed Soona by the elbow, Anaya by the upper arm and drifted to stand more exclusively behind the hut that was used to dry fish.

“How important?” Soona asked and Noa, feeling relief, slumbered at the familiarity that she would spare her criticisms until Noa gave more information.

Noa swallowed softly, his agape mouth telling both Soona and Anaya all that they needed to know. Noa hadn’t thought this through.

“This… Noa…” Soona’s voice came out quietly as to not alert anyone who might be passing by as they chittered together about the secret that Noa just spilled.

The three of them viciously scoured around with their matching sets of eyes, and there was no one else around but if an Elder happened to catch wind of what Noa’s intentions were, there was going to be some deeply introspective council meetings in his future about the audacity he had to proceed with such a dangerous endeavor without consulting them first. Noa knew that. That he had made a rash decision but he felt like he could not stop himself from taking advantageous leaps as far and as long as it was going to take him.

The result of the hushed nature of the conversation really depended on how long it was going to remain a secret, and that itself ultimately came down to two possibilities. One was if the Echo even came to agree with the terms that Noa had offered. The second was more blatant; if Anaya had the capability to keep his mouth shut and not chatter to someone who’s business this was not.

“This will not work. Too different… Echo will… will not stay. Leave us! Betray.” Soona’s voice strung around Noa’s mind like a cutting spear and despite thinking the same things, even so much so that the Echo herself said something about it, he still felt the sting and abandonment of support from one of his closest friends.

Pragmatism did not sit well with her as she looked at Anaya who pushed himself forward to speak but only nodded in agreement to his friend's statement. She hoped he would say something to take away the lingering pressure in her chest that rested at denying an idea from Noa, but Anaya just looked at Noa with defeated shoulders, knowing fully well what the Eagle Clan’s leader looked like when he was determined to make something go his way. No matter what either one of them said, Noa had made his bed and already asked the Echo if they wanted to stay, much to the dismay of Soona. Anaya was on the fence, it was evident in how he was teetering between Noa’s points and Soona’s rebuttals.

Noa figured that this was going to be the case - the allure to keep an Echo around was not well established amongst the Clan. Apes liked to talk, and there was no telling if the news would spread to surrounding Clans about the Echo presence and come to hunt them down. That was a true possibility, one that hadn’t really been mentioned to Noa until this moment when it finally sprung forward in his mind. He sat on it for a moment and looked at his friends in contemplation. What was he supposed to do?

Go back to the Echo and revoke his offer? Tell her that he was sorry, but he couldn’t be allowed to let her stay despite having the power to actually acutely disarray anyone else's opinions on the matter? Noa’s jaw clenched, the sun beaming off the movement and telling Soona that she needed to be more gentle with her words of disapproval. She needed to delve further, make it more personal and up the ante. Maybe then… Noa would come to his senses, at least she hoped.

“We have built… so much…” Moving to gesture towards the village, Noa’s eyes followed suit and flickered amongst the small huts that lined around the larger embankments of the tree-houses they had built as homes. Along the small fires that lit in each of them, dotting up the twirling nature of the posts. So finely detailed and sculpted together, baby vines tangled their way up the legs and slants of woods in a happy dance to get more sunlight.

They had been planted there shortly after they returned from the events of Proximus Caesar, and Noa felt a swell of pride hit his chest that they were indeed prospering. It was evident where there had been fire - the pieces of wood and sap used to build were fresher than the old, appearing brighter in color and in shape.

So close to the top of the main tree-bungalow, where small flitters of memories hit Noa when he recalled spending time there as a child with his Father, tending to the birds. Or being chased by them, he was almost positive it was the latter as Eagle Sun was adamant to follow and peck at Noa’s head, even as a child.

All of these things, not worn to pieces in his memory, but losing traction and fading with time. His eyes rested on the hut that encased the Echo in question for a second too long as Soona sighed heavily in front of Noa, her smaller shoulder hitting against Anaya’s with the dramatization of the action. “Does Noa… not realize Echo could tear it back down again? Leave us… in fire…?”

Following suit, Anaya nodded and finally verbalized, moving his hands in the motions of his words, “Agreed! Anaya… not scared to go back to that time but…” He said self-confidently which made Soona roll her eyes and shove her shoulder more aggressively into his. He yipped and looked at her with a sunken gaze. This was about Noa’s predicament.

“Noa,” Anaya shifted forward and placed a hand onto Noa’s forehead, flat-palmed and opened. “Need to think about the future. About the Eagle,” Anaya brought his hand back a few inches, “Clan.” And proceeded to smack Noa right on his brows. Noa squeezed his eyes shut at the feeling, raising an arm and batting Anaya away.

No matter what they told him, no matter how much he refracted and tried to justify his case, there was not going to be mutual understanding on the issue. At least this evening. Noa drew a deep breath in and encased it longer in his lungs before exhaling. He left it with one more stroke to an already burnt out fire.

“Am thinking of future…” He looked at Soona first, meeting eyes and reaching to embrace her shoulders in his grasp. “Echo could help us… Learn their ways,” He moved to Anaya and placed his hand in a parallel fashion as Anaya had previously done to him, “Gain,” The hand moved out a few inches, “Knowledge.” And proceeded to fall right back down between Anaya’s eyes.

And with that, Noa slumped onto all fours, almost like he was hunching in on himself. Drifting between Soona and Anaya and towards the Bird enclosure, his gait was subdued, knuckles pressing further into the ground as he moved, there was no eagerness to really get anywhere and he felt a tingle of guilt hit his chest at leaving his friends so abruptly but they just… Refused to see his side of things. Actually, so much so that in talking to them, he didn't get much time to really explain in his own words what his reasoning was behind taking the action with the Echo.

He tilted his head at that. He had a concise reasoning, that being Raka’s wise words that perhaps, they could live together peacefully, each dominant in their own right but then the words of the Elders and his Father came crumbling down. They brought danger wherever they went. Echo were inherently selfish.

They would tear down the Apes just to build themselves up, even the ones without the ability to communicate and who were lesser in intelligence. It was a deeply ingrained experience and instinct for them, as far as Noa was aware and based on his experiences. Apes had been told their entire lives that Echo were always a threat, especially if they got too close to a Clan foraging or camping, or Eagles forbid, an actual Ape.

That was unheard of, Ape and Echo ever being friendly to one another, let alone agreements being made in mutual understanding like Noa was alluding to. Always, Echo were too stupid to understand, always they were too selfish to understand any other viewpoints other than survival.

Tickling the back of his brain was the incessant idea that she would only accept Noa’s terms out of selfishness, even though he was adamant that they were not going to kill her if she was released, refusing to help. She had nothing really to gain by accepting, and she had nothing to lose by refusing if that’s the choice that’s been made. He’d let her go then, if that’s what she wanted, but he’d always have one eye on the back of his head, always looking over his shoulder, in case she returned with more Echo to destroy the village. Like she had alluded to Noa.

How did Noa know she wasn’t going to? Blind faith was not something Ape’s lept into. Their laws, their systems, were based upon the generations who built them up, from the experiences garnered over and over again as new Apes came to power. It was Noa’s turn now, but he was terrified. There was no easy choice, he felt like he was being pulled into two splitting directions. He wanted to know more, he yearned for it in fact, and this Echo could help him. He wanted to keep his Clan safe after what happened, and this Echo could take it all away again.

One was prey, one was the hunter. A fish to an Eagle. To most Clans of the valley, and especially to those in the valley beyond it was a strict law. The prospect didn't necessarily sit right with Noa when he thought about it, leaving a rather metallic taste on his tongue if he pressed on it too long. If he lingered in pondering about… being actual friends with her, this Echo he had offered freedom to in exchange for teaching Noa, showing Noa face to face if their interests really aligned and if there was any true basis to Raka’s… No, no. To Caesar's teachings and laws.

He could hear Anaya calling for him, telling him that the evening meal was just a few minutes away and that he was going to miss it if he took off now, but Noa slid the words right off his ears and continued on, trailing up the twirling steps towards the solace he found after his Father passed. Noa’s shoulders lifted and then fell with a heavy sigh. He needed to think. Needed to contemplate in the only way that he knew how. With his Father. With his Birds. With himself.

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Anguish wrapped you into her arms, grasping at your head with one hand while the other laid against your mouth, permitting anything from coming to fruition from your vocal cords, staving off any chance in the immediate moment to give Noa an actual answer to his last question. Even swallowing was difficult as the hold your emotions had on you were refusing to let you drain your throat of the thick coating of mucus that built up there from the tears, you felt like you were legitimately drowning as a small gasp managed its way out, tumbling into the otherwise dead air, accompanied in flurries by the crackling of your small fire.

It appeared as if he was unable… to look at you anymore. The tension in his shoulders brought you in but then wiped you right back out when you heeded contemplation to touch him, just to get him to look over at you.

“Noa---” Surprised at the fact that you finally managed to peep something out of your body, you tried to ignore the smothering sensation that flooded right along your diaphragm, curling and encasing every one of your ribs with fiery intent when you looked at the side of his face, his expression drawn in on itself.

Brows furrowed together, wrinkles appearing between them, his actual face fell downwards into a slope, his mouth agape, canines catching your eyes when they enticed the light of the fire just right. He could rip you apart, he could… Swallowing hard, all the build up from your throat and nose slid down grotesquely. Even at the sound of his name, he didn't shift to look at you like he always did.

“Noa, I-I can’t answer that question… Not in the way you want me to.”

You’d have been lying if you admitted to him that you hadn’t thought about it once or twice. Not that you were unhappy with the Clan, unhappy with your life, and the budding perspectives you had now thanks to Noa and the Clan’s ever endearing accommodations, the friendships of Anaya and Soona and… Your eyes rested on Noa once again. Whatever was happening here, whatever force of nature was keeping you tethered to the Clan’s leader.

There was always going to be a part of you that was inherently Human, no matter how accommodating they had all been, no matter how much you learned of their culture, their ways of living, and no matter how much you wanted to be something different, something that Noa would accept…

The times you had talked of other Humans, the redolent nature of your voice, the passing fleeting memories you had of them… The answer itself was remarkably twisted and hit your mind going too fast for you to comprehend. You missed them, but you did not yearn for them in the same way that your hands were out-stretched for Noa to take, if that’s what he wanted. You missed them, but you didn't want to leave.

I don’t want to leave, you told yourself. I don’t want to leave, but I… miss them.

All you wanted was for Noa to pull you up against him, to tell you that it was okay to think about it, but to have the knowledge that no, you didn't want to leave. There would be no argument at that point, you imagined. Knowing the male Chimp well enough, you figured he would hear only the first part of your reasoning and assume that you’d want to leave.

You could hear it in your mind, see the distaste hit his expression as he tells you that you were free to go, you always were, there was nothing keeping you here, and there was nothing keeping him to you. Heart sinking in your chest to the point where it felt like a black hole had been carved out there, you looked down at your hands once again and traced the delicate detailing of the shapes on your palms. A good distraction for you when you didn't want to cry, but still, it only did so much.

Tears were burning at the backs of your irises, your feeble attempts to keep them in their ducts beyond futile as a few of them escaped and trickled down your rounded cheeks, kissing themselves into one singular drop before falling off your chin into your lap. Whereas they had been thin and fast tears previously, these were thickened and fat with ripped emotions you didn't even know how to begin expressing, let alone to an Ape who may or may not have had the right vocabulary to understand the complexity.

You hit yourself on the inside at that thought; Noa was not stupid, it was foolish of you to fall back to the primitive thinking you had when you first met. Noa knew what you felt, whether you were willing to admit that to yourself or not. Noa felt what you felt, unbeknownst to even himself, and surely not to you.

The slow draw of his shoulders raised attention to the standing of his fur along the collarbones, upwards across the sweep of his shoulder blades, and then repeating their pattern on the other side. Twisting his neck at the vibration of your words against his eardrums, he was put into a contemplative state. His body was reaching for an involuntary reaction of mild irritation to the answer you had given him in the form of him shifting from one side to another, the rise and fall of shoulders increasing and the bickering sound of his breathing, straight through his nose.

Noa twisted his head and for a split second of relief, you thought he was going to entwine your eyes with his like he had done so many times before and tell you something you wanted to hear. Vacant and feeling a wash of abandonment, he pushed right past you and rested his glance on the fire. Crackling intently, it seemed the only thing that was able to grip passed the heavy strain that drifted from both of your bodies.

“Tell me the answer… you think… I want to hear.” Like thunder rolling down a mountain, his words sunk into you aggressively, pensively and wantingly. It was deft in its grip around your mind, it was thoughtful in how it showcased that Noa was bargaining in a sense, and it was yearning for some sort of clarity.

Whatever the answer was, Noa knew, was going to cause turmoil. He just wanted to satisfy that itch inside of his brain that still persisted. He wanted to know what you thought. About things in general, did you think that the sky was the same color that he saw? Did you see the beauty in the flowers like his eyes were able to admire? What… Did you think about him?

His jaw clamped firmly shut again as he finally drew his fiery grassy gaze towards you, crushed at the state of your body upon first glance. It reminded him so reductively of when you first arrived, your eyes refusing to meet him, your mind racing at the prospect that he was going… going to kill you… Tightening his hands, he relished the feeling of the wood now digging into his knuckles as he was still seated on all fours

“I don’t think about them.” You harshly whispered and looked over at the fire, eager to see exactly what had previously kept his attention there but there was nothing. Just a regular fire, burning to its heart's desire, much like the sensation that rolled along your chest now. Heated, unbridled anger. He was playing games, getting you to answer something that wasn’t true to help himself feel better. You couldn’t knock it though, in your bids of survival, you had to resort to similar measures. Drawing a deep breath into your lungs, you tried desperately to keep yourself grounded since Noa was unable to do it for you any longer, either by choice, or by neglect and you weighed which one was worse.

They both were, in their own ways.

“I never have thought about them since I got here. I don’t think about leaving, I think about-- about---” You hiccuped and squeezed your eyes shut, unable to bring yourself to come to a complete sentence. It was on the tip of your tongue, the rest of your words that you wanted to say but they were lost to you when it finally came time to admit.

“You think about them… often?” Noa deduced that from what you had just told him.

“No,” That was based in truth and you pleaded that he was able to tell when you looked at him with tearful eyes. “O-Only sometimes.”

“You… think about leaving?” He was even more quiet in asking that, hushed to the point where it was hard to pick his voice apart from the fire.

“Yes.” Another fact based in truth. “Y-yes… N… N…” Your voice cracked and failed before you managed to get the ‘not often’ added to the ending.

Noa nodded at that and looked away from you again. “We… should not be here then…”

Shattering at his words, you finally brought yourself to uncoil from your tightened ball. Dropping onto your hands and knees, you scooted towards him in a quick shuffle, which in any other circumstance, would have made the Ape laugh to see you struggling on all fours when it came so naturally to him. Your scent wafted against him in waves, Noa shutting his eyes to shut down that side of his mind to focus on the now.

Not the possibility of the future, or the past. Now, and here. In your hut, with you, alone… How he wanted things to go differently. If he had command over the entire situation, you’d be nothing but a tangled mess under him as he placed his canines against the delectations of your jugular, dragging them down in a bid to get you to say his name one more time, and then again as he brought you closer to him, and then again and again until the night was over and he drenched himself over your sweaty body, wanting nothing more than to encase you with his fur, to fill you to his hearts pleasure knowing that there was ultimately going to be nothing to bear fruit.

He had no idea where those notions came from, his lack of understanding Echo mating was evident when he thought too hard about it. Animalistically, all he wanted to do was push you down and prove in any way that he could that he was a provider, and he was able to keep you satisfied, by any means.

Bringing his mouth against your neck. Mine. Letting his thickened fingers trail along the tender skin of your body. Mine. The way you would say his name when he left marks along where he was going. Mine.

Instead, in his endless list of fumbles, he had asked one bad question after another, justifiably getting you upset in the process. Noa hated that he was uncouth like that, that his brain didn't pick apart the smaller aspects of how you might react to his questions. You, as an Echo, not you as all Echo’s.

That… Had been his mistake in all of this. Seeing your opinions, hearing your voice and your words as all encompassing to the Echo ways when it simply wasn’t going to be that. They were all yours, never anyone else's, and never Noa’s to dive into. Guilt ravaged his senses and tore down the most basic walls he had built for himself to stop this moment from even coming to fruition. But, here you sat, Ape to Echo. There was no way… that Raka’s words were right. There was no way to come to an agreement, no matter how much he pushed for one, no matter how much you pulled into it.

Noa finally responded to your shift when you finally managed to sneak your way into his vision and he was unable to see anything else. Torn out of a mild sense of abhorrence towards himself, he watched as you moved in front of him to sit on your knees, so close that he was able to feel the heat radiating off of you in waves, nothing coming from the fire any longer. His green and golden speckled eyes held nothing but animosity at you, glass hitting the back of your throat with a small cry, “Why?”

Turning his head away from you at the sight of your tears, trying to ignore the lingering saltiness that now ran between the two of you as a few of them hit Noa’s knees from your sudden proximity, he… Wasn’t sure of the answer. “Wasn’t fair to offer you to st--- stay.” He uttered and finally stood to be bi-pedal. Even though he wasn’t particularly tall, Noa towered over your frame as you were left to rest on your knees in front of him. “Elders always say… Echo’s bring trouble. Should have never offered it to you, I should have…” Growling under his breath, Noa refused to look at you and offered his gaze to rest on the wall to the left, “Never let you.”

“I wanted to stay!” You cried at him, lifting a hand to wipe your forearm under your nose to get rid of the snot that was falling into your mouth caused by the pure vengeful tower that the tears took on the way down. “I want to stay! I can’t go back out there, I-I would die, they would hunt me down! I n-need to stay!”

Noa’s eyes narrowed at you. So, that was it? You agreed to stay to save yourself? He felt foolish and suddenly, all the moments, all the grazing of his eyes against your skin, your glances at him during dinner, your laugh, the way you would hold onto him when you needed leverage, the soft silence that was always around the two of you when not in the throes of conversation… All these things to Noa… That meant something… Selfish, his mind taunted, Echo is selfish. Elders told you, should have listened, Noa.

“I need to think about the Eagle Clan future!” He shouted back at you, regretting it instantly when he saw how you cowered under him, the shadows of his body echoing along your features which were alight at times from the firelight behind you, your shoulders drawing in on themselves, your eyes now widened with understandable fear as you took a tumble backwards, innately out of intensified fear. His voice had come out like a whip, animalistic and growling at you as you had been warned about when you were a child. A tiny whimper left your mouth at that, as he peered down at you. “Cannot… think… Of the future when Echo…” Noa looked into your eyes, still rounded and afraid, “When… you do nothing but cause trouble and distractions.”

He could have sworn he heard a small ‘I’m sorry’, but that could have very well been wishful thinking as Noa’s shoulders dropped the tension, his fur still prickling on the edges. What he said… was right. It was said by Anaya and Soona months ago but… Now Noa knew. They were right, and he was wrong. Feelings never mattered in all of this, if you were so easy to dismiss the kindness that he offered you in favor of leaving, despite your pleas to stay. Squeezing his eyes shut, he thought about his Father. Echo brings nothing but trouble, rattled inside of his mind over and over again, one of the last things, the last pieces of advice he ever got from the Master of the Birds.

“You… you need to leave.”

“Noa!”

“Raka… was wrong.”

“Noa…”

“Apes and Humans…” You blinked at that, never having actually heard him call them that before. It was always exclusive to ‘Echo. “never see eye to eye… Cannot… Live side by side.”

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He had given you time, Noa. Time to contemplate your next move, time to think about the idea and get settled into the prospects that you would… be living with them, and by proxy and association, you would become a part of the Clan itself in a strangely twisted way. He had just taken you around the village to start your integration. At first, the premise left you feeling a bit uneasy at the looks of Apes towards you were less than understanding. There was the underlying idea that Noa was taking you to be killed, maybe in a ritual of sorts, but you pushed that back as you feet pattered lightly against the dirt path.

Noa was in front of you, only two feet or so, with you trailing closely behind. His gait… You hadn’t noticed when you were in the small hut, there was not much room for him to properly stand on his feet, but it was intense and strong, like he had been imbued with much purpose. From small conversations here and there, you got the feeling that your intuition might be correct.

The mantle he had taken from his Father, the Crown itself, must be terribly heavy on his head. Powerful, his broad shoulders captivated your eyes as you tried to focus and find the muscles underneath his dense fur. Fingers twitching, you wanted nothing more than to grab at him just to scratch your internal thoughts, and to say that you were allowed to, and to genuinely test the waters as far as your bargained life went. If you went for him, to touch, to graze, would he see it as a threat and kill you? Would he be perplexed? You were unsure but tucked the notion for later in the back of your mind. Surely with time as you two embarked in this mutual arrangement, you might lean in to learn about the comforts an Ape felt about being touched.

The long sweep of the tree-house structures were a marvel in and of itself, leaving you breathless as you trailed upwards, refusing to look down and satisfy your morbid curiosity to see how far the ground really was, Noa gesturing vaguely towards family nests, explaining in rather simple terms that communal sleep was normal, especially amongst family and close friends.

Often, that broke apart, he told you, when Apes began courting and mating each other, delving into the realm of building their own nest together for the future family they were almost sworn to have, sworn to bear after being ceremoniously tied together. You thought that a wonderful aspect as Noa talked about it, not going straight for the details as to not confuse or intimidate you, but enough to give you a glimpse. You tired it straight to the prospect of marriage amongst Humans. Seemed similar enough, and it seemed like a great start for the agreement you two were flirting around with.

“Do you think… Echo and Ape can.. Live together, side by side?” You perked up at the first question of this agreement that you had chosen to dive into as he drew you back downwards, now shuffling towards the river that was sitting to the east of the village. Privacy, you thanked whatever was up above that Noa had a concept of privacy and intuition enough to see that maybe the topics of contentious conversations were best left between the two of you. Or, he was taking you over there to drown you and then proceed to gut you like a fish, easy access to water for him to discard of the tasty guts, keeping the good ones and to also keep his hands free from your blood. You had no idea, and despite that thought ringing in your ears, you proceeded to follow him.

For the first question, it left you rather… stumped. There were a lot of ways to answer it. You could answer it out of fear, contemptment, agitation…. Fear. You lingered on that and watched with a caught breath as Noa crouched his body down, your mind reeling at how truly dexterous he was as he used both hands equally, both feet equally, never seeming to favor one side over the other.

Mentally, you found yourself then taking notes on his demeanor, knowing you had never seen an Ape, in this particular case, a Chimpanzee so close, so concise with movement and intent. As much as your jaded mind hated to admit, and despite the disparaging size between the two of you, you would venture to say that Noa was more graceful at moving than you were, as you often caught yourself tripping over your own feet or external forces.

Physically, you were hesitant to bring your body downwards as you sat on top of a rather comfortable looking rock and racked through your mind for a rational answer to his question. Noa watched intently, noting how you looked at him before choosing to sit like you were asking permission, which you really didn't need to. It’s not like you were a prisoner. More or less… He tilted his head in thought as he saw a few Apes meters away, staring right at you and then proceeding to chitter to themselves as they walked away. Tolerated guest. For the time being. Until you could be trusted further.

You supposed that’s all this was about, Noa wanting to get to the bottom lip of that very question and it made sense that the first topic he chose to delve into was that. No point in dallying or small talk. The Ways of Caesar, he had briefly mentioned, were heavily based in the ideology that Humanity was not that bad, Apes were not that bad, and in hypothetical situations, they should be able to co-exist. Obviously not, you thought to yourself sarcastically, otherwise you’d have not been hunted to the very brink of death.

“I think that… If it was possible once, it’s got to be possible for it to happen again.” That was a rather optimistic answer and you patted yourself on the back for not giving it too much complexity.

Noa on the other hand, began playing with a smoothened pebble between his calloused fingers as he listened with acute focus to what your thoughts were. And… to his surprise, they were remarkably underwhelming. He figured you’d go off on a tangent about how Echo ways were better, more efficient, more clever and smart. Turning his eyes towards you, he looked at how you were holding yourself. Arms wrapped in front of your body, your eyes turned towards the river as you watched it cut its way across the landscape.

He hummed quietly, tossing the pebble into the water and drifted towards you on all fours until he was sitting only a foot or so in front of you, facing your direction so he was able to see your expressions which he found more than amusing. He found himself detailing them in his mind how they differed from the expressions he was used to seeing with his fellow Apes. “No… way to know for sure.” He commented softly.

Noa looked at you, on equal ground as you were seated and he was crouched in front of you. Even and equal, eye to eye. Instead of breaking the connection as you so often did, finding the intensity of his eyes sitting under an already intimidating brow incredibly difficult to maintain eye contact with, you lingered and peered deeply into them.

Noa’s eyes twitched a bit at that out of skepticism, like you were analyzing him to his very depths. Maybe you were, maybe you were just staring at him with the realization that this was really the first time that you had seen him in such great lighting, having only deduced minor details about him from the dim fire of the hut you were kept in when you first arrived, and teased in the times when he took you to relieve yourself. Admittedly, that’s what he was doing. Looking, watching, noting and remembering.

Working your eyes towards the water, you nodded in minor agreement, not sure what was alright to say and what would be overstepping the line. “There’s never going to be a real way to know unless it happens.” Was your response as you looked down and caught his gaze once again.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・

“No-Noa, you need to let me finish---”

“No." He was stern in his actions, almost disgustingly so as his shoulders glowered intimidatingly at you. He’d never hurt you, you said again and again inside of your mind but the chance in his stance, the irritation falling off of him like a song, was smothering all your basic senses and you found yourself crawling backwards a bit at the mere sight of him.

“I was… stupid to think that this would work. I knew---” Noa grunted out of lack of vocabulary to properly express what he was feeling. “I knew this was going to be a problem,” He gestured at you, the movement itself causing a few more tears to ricochet down your face and fall silent on the ground. “I--- I pushed past it, I…” Words stopped and he brought a hand up to sign instead, ‘Never should have trusted an Echo.’

He lingered on the last word he presented to you, the power in his stance dissipating into the air around the two of you and left to encase your body. “You don’t understand.”

“Why… always that?” Noa swallowed hard, “Why will I not… understand? Am I just… stupid Ape to you? Aren’t we all just---”

Finally finding it in yourself to stand up, you stumbled a bit once your feet were planted and tried to shake the feeling of your left leg prickling from sitting on it too long. It was even a tighter fit in your small abode with the two of you standing, Noa’s head nearly hit the roof, yours was a few inches below his, “You need to shut up! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

It was Noa’s turn to widen his eyes at your words, astonishment clear in his expression. He’d never heard you yell like that, much less with the tear of agony that wiped along your cheeks, fiery still in your eyes as you took a step towards him, almost chest to chest at this point as you poked his right pectoral where his scar was. Noa didn't flinch - it wasn’t painful at all, your touch would never cause him pain and deep down he knew that but nothing was stopping the unresolved from bubbling to the surface as he grasped your wrist tightly with his hand, circling his fingers around the delicate bones without a care. You groaned at that, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to rip yourself from him.

“Let me go!”

“You need to stop being selfish!” He retorted, “Never have seen Ape as full of themselves…” He growled at you, lifting your hand up above your head in a straight pinned line. Quite literally, Noa had you dangling in the air as he lifted your arm upwards, your feet leaving the ground as he brought you to be eye to eye with him. In them, the familiar glow of greens and golds were replaced by crazed dilation, the color was eclipsed beyond any sense of knowing who the Ape holding you really was.

“But Echo’s are so…” Catapulting your gaze, it fell on his canines which were on amused display for you, “Should have never let you stay.”

He kept saying that like he was trying to convince himself. “Noa---” You reached up with your free hand and grasped at his hand, trying desperately to get him to let you go even if that meant you were falling to the ground with a hard thud. He’d never hurt me, you thought again and squeezed your eyes shut. But he was.

The grasp on your wrist began to feel red with ache, pulled beyond its limits by the fact that he was holding you mid-air by the appendage. “Let me go, you’re-” Clawing at his hand, you pleaded with crazed fluttering eyes.

“You’re going to break my wrist, let me go!” Bringing a leg up, you pressed it against his stomach, right below his diaphragm. Without warning, Noa released you, taking no pleasure in seeing you fall backwards with a hardened sound against the dirt ground below. A tuft of pillowed dust surrounded you as you looked down at your now bruised wrist, trying to ignore the pure burn that hit the side of your body that you ultimately landed on with your entire brute weight. If your wrist wasn’t broken, it was severely strained by the looks of it.

“You’re just an animal.” The anger didn't stop there as you scrabbled to your feet, holding your wrist tenderly. “I knew it from the moment I met you! Just a damn, dirty Ape!”

The words felt like they weren’t yours, but they were what came out much to your displeasure. It tasted like you had just swallowed the most sour berry, having to come to terms with it and swallowing much to distaste. Looking at him didn't help, in fact, it only caused more rage to hit you and swell you into the waves. “I should have never trusted you! What reason does a Human have to trust an Ape like you!?”

“Me?” He retorted and threw you the most tantalizing of daggers, his arm expanding so he was pointing in your direction, “Look at… yourself! I don’t… know why you didn't just leave when I’ve made myself more than… clear… now that…” Noa came to a slow pause, looking down at how you were holding yourself, your wrist. He had felt it crunch below his touch, the self-reflection finally hit his senses at what he had done. What he had said.

“You…need to leave.” Was what he chose to mutter, looking at your wrist for a few seconds before directing his attention towards the exit. Remaining silent on the spot you had on the ground, the side of your body impaled with dirt and sediment from when Noa had inadvertently dropped you, you let him pace without another word, without another objection.

“Morning time, you can… Take my horse, but you don’t… belong here anymore. I need…” Huffing, you watched his shoulders fall in defeat, “I need to think of my Clan’s future, was not when I asked… you to stay… When I w… wanted you to stay…”

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ TAG LIST:

@ohwaitimthewriter @hera-annwn @saturnnie-03 @filliandkili

@hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @moonchild1433

@kaenalsha @unsteady-bitch @whamsworld

@yummyfanta @nuhteyam @babylockley @edynmeyer1 @callsignwidow

@moonlightnyx

#noa #noa x reader #noa x human reader #kingdom of the planet of the apes #kotpota #planet of the apes #pota #mae #raka #proximus caesar #owen teague #fanfiction #fanfic #emmy writes #pota fanfic #planet of the apes fanfic

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the-s1lly-corner · 9 months ago

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Various HH characters x Artist reader

Prize 4/5 for @coldestcoconut

This post contains: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Nifty

Notes: Reader is GN

CWs: None

CHARLIE

Its canon that Charlie herself is an artist, she makes her own presentations and everything! Shes very open to sharing her supplies with you, though a lot of the colors she has are very bright and saturated. You might inspire her to have an artsy based exercise in the hotel, you... may get a few groans and looks from some of the other hotel residents.. whoops.. gushes and goes insane whenever you make something for her or really show her anything, she can go on for hours and hours about how lovely your work looks! Woukd put it on the fridge/hj

VAGGIE

Not at all an artist, and she doesnt... exactly know techniques and terms. She is proud of you and shes trying her best to show that, but... her compliments seem to fall a little flat when praising you thanks to her voice as well as her just not knowing terms. A lot of the time its comments like "oh, this looks good," whereas other characters can say WHY it's good. Though is that really that important when seeking validation? Keeps all the art you give her in a folder somewhere, neat and away from harm

ANGEL

It should be a given that hes going to ask if you can draw something... rather inappropriate. Were you really surprised? He might likely also ask you to draw fat nuggets, he even offers to pay you. Keeps some of your doodles pinned up on his vanity mirror on his room. Hes an artist, just not in the way you are. He has an appreciation for your work even if it's a different genre! It doesnt matter what your skill level is, hes going to be a little interested. He offers to pose for you if you need a quick reference, he can offer something interesting thanks to his flexibility! Free of charge, too!

ALASTOR

Similar to Angel, hes an artist just in a different way! Angel is a dancer and an actor, and Alastor uses radio as his medium! Hes.. interested enough in your work, though he can be a little more.. critical in his criticisms (but only if you ask for it, hes not rude!). He doesnt intent to fully stamp out your excitement, hes simply trying to get you to reach your fullest potential as an artist. It is balanced out by elements he enjoys in your art. Watches you like a hawk when you work. Dont try to be sneaky and try to draw him, he already knows what you're doing.. but he might just allow it, it's not like you're using a camera

HUSK

Hes indifferent, at least.. mostly.. he listens when you talk about your hobby and he makes sure you know hes paying attention. But you can tell that hes not sure how to keep the conversation going thanks to him just... not being into art. Sure he can tell when something has talent and had work put into it, but hes not the type to sit down and really dissect a piece. Though... his appreciation for art does grow thanks to you. Keeps the doodles you slide to him while he's working the bar- gets a little pissed at himself if part of the papers get wet from the condensation from the drinks

SIR PENTIOUS

NIFTY

She draws! As a hobby and when shes not warring with the bugs in the hotel! Sometimes the two of you sit and draw together- though Niftys more.. scribbling on the papers. Shes just excited is all! Don't ask where she got the red paint from. Hoardes the art you give her, very possessive of the drawings. Probably attempts to stab someone if they get too close to her stash

Hes a bit artistic himself, being an inventor and all! He draws his own blueprints and as well as his own designs. It may not be the same as the things you may create, but it's still a bonding point between the two of you. He let's you use his fancy pens and stuff, just please return them! Will praise you to heaven and back whenever you show him something, he knows some art terms and you can bet hes going to be using them to really push his praise! If you ever draw him anything hes going to keep it, likely framing it as well!

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queenofapeacefuldawn · 14 days ago

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Spy × Family Chapter 108: An Analysis

So, after a two month wait, we finally got a new chapter! And we were SO well fed LMAO!!!

Anyway, as always, spoilers for Spy × Family Chapter 108 under the cut!

We start off the chapter with Melinda nervously explaining to Yor her reason for being "Lunaluna Selena" in disguise: it's a fun hobby!

And, obviously, she's in disguise out of worry about the rumours that might spread if the former First Lady of Ostania dabbles in mysticism: as it might cause problems with her husband. (Though it is messed up that she has to hide her hobbies from her own husband, but we know how Donovan is).

In the middle of Melinda's monologue about why she loves this sort of thing, she drops a rather odd line:

(First of all: DANDADAN reference anyone?) Kidding, kidding, it was probably just a throw-off line, but what we're really focusing on is: Melinda's emphases on the word "Telepathy".

Now, side note, I'm not sure if the emphasis was to draw our, the readers' attentions to the fact that Melinda believes in the concept of telepathy existing, or if Melinda herself is putting emphasis on the word "telepathy", implying she knows something about the project that Anya was made for.

It is a fascinating thing to put in, though: if one's talking about the things they believe in, then putting "telepathy" in the top three seems like an odd choice, especially if more general terms like "superpowers" or whatever exist.

It does seem very intentional on Endo-sensei's part to put in, especially since, as of now, we don't know how much Melinda knows about Donovan's current plans, or even about what he's done before.

It could be a reference to Anya's past, or some sort of red herring so the reveal of Anya's past can be more shocking. I'm not sure. Yet, I choose to believe that Melinda knows something about Anya's past--- something maybe she found out on accident? Which is why she's so terrified of Donovan?

In essence, this chapter basically confirms that Melinda is suffering some sort of psychological abuse at the hands of Donovan, leading to her fear of him. What's more interesting is that Donovan is intentionally trying to drive a rift between Melinda and the boys. Possibly he's trying to isolate her by keeping them under his thumb, so that she doesn't try to "betray" him? Or maybe he's already threatened the lives of the boys in return for Melinda staying, all for the sake of keeping the "happy family man" image up to the public (though we know how messed up the family really is).

These panels. They confirm that Melinda has thoughts about standing up for herself and Damian (and Demetrius too, I guess--- I think it's implied), but the sheer terror of what Donovan might do holds her back. Half a step forward, a whole leap back. She even says, "Fortune telling [a hobby that she loves dearly] doesn't matter either. What am I doing here?"

So. yeah.

[NOTE: I skipped over the tarot reading part initially so that I could talk about Donovan and his abuse, and connect it to the first bit of the chapter. The tarot reading part comes now.

NOTE 2: All the information about the tarot cards comes from Google. I have no knowledge about tarot, so please take this with a grain of salt, and if I make any mistakes, please don't hesitate in correcting me :)]

These are the cards we see initially.

She says the card representing Anya's present is the Four of Cups. According to Google, it means:

The Four of Cups tend to appear when you are feeling discouraged and unmotivated. You may feel as if there is no solution or way forward in your situation. Life has become stagnant, and nothing seems to make you happy or passionate.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

Which is kind of true in reference to Anya's life as a student. A student's life is filled with studying (God knows I know it), something Anya is apathetic towards. It's also "Plan A" of Operation Strix: through studying, Anya becomes an Imperial Scholar and Twilight makes contact with Donovan Desmond.

Or, it could be an allusion to Melinda's situation: she's discouraged, and feels trapped in her marriage. Nothing makes her passionate anymore, because everything she experiences is tainted by her husband (see: the panel above where she says 'even fortune-telling doesn't matter).

Melinda says that the Death card represents the factors around Anya. There's the obvious joke about "Oh the Grim Reaper's right next to you!" with Yor next to Anya, but the Death card shouldn't be taken literally.

The Death card signals that one major phase in your life is ending, and a new one is going to start. You just need to close one door, so the new one will open. The past needs to be placed behind you, so you can focus your energy on what is ahead of you.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

This is a reference to Anya's previous life as a test subject, and orphan; and how she's left that past behind and been allowed to actually be a child, and how she's finally being loved as she deserves. How her circumstances, the factors around her are changing. It could also pertain to her physical growth, or maybe it was just there for the joke about Yor being the Grim Reaper (which is still pretty ominous. Who is Yor going to have to kill?)

And, finally, the Star in reverse.

When the Star card is reversed, it means that you are feeling as though everything has turned against you. The challenges that you would normally see as exciting seem instead to make you feel as though you cannot overcome them. You have lost faith in something, whether inside yourself or with something you normally find dear. Without hope, without faith, we cannot find the motivation to progress forward in the challenges that we face. Where in your life are you feeling hopeless? In what ways do you already feel defeated? And how does that affect your actions? The star reversed asks us to nurture our sense of hope and positive energy to help propel our actions with joy instead of fear.

(Labyrinthos, Tarot Cards Meanings List)

Since this represents Anya's future... it doesn't look to good. It feels intentionally grey and murky, with no clear answer as to what's going to happen in Anya's future, but it still seems pretty bleak.

Overall, these readings don't seem to point to a future that seems too good for Anya.

I am very afraid what's going to happen to her (and to find out what's going to happen to her), but I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

We still don't know what exactly Anya means by "This feeling... I think I've felt it before...", especially when it's related to Melinda's fear of returning home and to Donovan. Again, it makes me very nervous for her backstory.

Anya and Yor return to where the rest of the gang is, and---

why is he like this.

After Twilight spends the whole day socializing with the other parents, "pumping them for information", Emile talks about how nice it must be to have a nice mom, which leads to this interaction:

This has a striking similarity to the chapter where Anya confesses about her mind-reading powers to Damian: the reassurance back then that Damian loves his dad, and now, the reassurance that Melinda loves him. Parallels about who he loves and idolizes, and now who loves him.

And, it's also so heartwarming that she specifically takes off her mask: showing her, perhaps, most true self to him, especially due to the fact that she comes from a family of actors, constantly putting on masks.

Speaking of masks... we can see a bit of [REDACTED] bleed through the mask of Loid, and Twilight.

It's the same, pensive expression that we see him wear in Episode 35 (Chapter 56), except it's more... tired. More weary. Less affectionate.

(The panel from Chapter 56)

We see a man imagining What Could Have Been, if the trajectory of his life hadn't changed so drastically: especially at a festival much like the one he's currently at.

We see a man tired of war.

We also see it in Episode 3 (Chapter 3)

This is when he's seeing young boys playing, and thinking of himself and his own friends.

Anya doesn't read his mind, but she does read his expression-

And so, the family man mask comes on, but not quite as properly as he'd like.

We can still see [REDACTED] shine through.

It's the same smile he gives Yor and Anya when Nightfall comes over, the smile with, which Fiona notes, "a tiny hint of real emotion seeping out from beneath it".

We jump to some time later, with Director Gorey asking Loid if he's willing to take on a VIP patient who presents a "challenging" case, which is followed by the inevitable reveal that the patient is Melinda.

I think this implies that Melinda has tried seeing psychiatrists before, but none of them worked out for her, or none of them could figure out what was wrong with her (hence the "challenging").

It's also revealed that Yor suggested Melinda sees Loid, which is greatly boosting his mission.

Gorey says that he suspects she's suffering from an intense case of Persecution Complex, so I searched that up.

People with a persecution complex suffer from the feeling that other people are trying to harm them.

(Cambridge Dictionary)

Given Gorey's diagnosis, I'm wondering if he's implying that Melinda is untrustworthy (which also implies that Melinda might have spoken of her fear of her husband--- perhaps in a roundabout way, which also led to her being classified as "challenging".) Though, for this, we'll need to wait and see next chapter.

FINAL THOUGHTS: I really loved this chapter! It definitely was worth the two month wait (and, I hope Endo-sensei is better, I think he took the break because of poor health). I'm excited for the next chapter! Tell me what your thoughts are!

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fuckyeahisawthat · 2 months ago

Text

Fully prepared for this to be a minority position but I am deeply emotionally invested in Paul and Chani not getting back together in Dune Messiah. Not just because I love angst and tragedy (I do) but because I don't think there's a way to do it without undermining the narrative and character arcs that Dune Part Two executed so well.

Paul and Chani's relationship in the Villeneuve films exists on a totally different foundation from what's in the books. It's a political love story and you simply cannot separate out the politics from the romance. Their connection starts with the politics and the love is built on top of that.

It's not just that they happen to fall in love while fighting together in an anti-colonial guerrilla war; that is why she falls in love with him. Because he is willing to take the same risks as her in fighting for her people's liberation. Not by trying to impose himself as a leader (at first) but side by side with her as comrades and equals. Let me fight beside you. That's all I'm asking. He is quite literally willing to put his body on the line for a struggle that's been with her all her life, that she cannot escape, but that he could walk away from if he chose. And in fact he proves himself to be an asset and not a liability in this struggle and they start winning. And yeah that shit's romantic as fuck!! Kudos to whoever on the writing team was like actually direct action solidarity is sexy af because they were right and they should say it! There clearly is some attraction or at least interest in Paul on Chani's part from fairly early on, but it's only after he's proven his political worth, in battle, that she allows herself to trust him on a personal level enough to begin a romantic relationship with him. (And it's only after Paul takes off the Atreides ring, the symbol of the fact that he came there to rule over her, that the narrative permits him to advance to this point.) They could have been comrades but not lovers, but never the other way around, because there's no other version of Paul that this Chani would have fallen in love with.

It's important that they meet in circumstances where Paul has no structural power over her. Chani never would have trusted the Paul who stood in the colonial palace and pledged to "honor" Stilgar by offering him hospitality on his own fucking planet. Because she would have known, just as Stilgar did, that such an offer of fellowship, no matter how genuine and well-intentioned, is not made on equal terms. It's only once Paul has been forcibly separated from his colonial privilege that they have even a chance to approach each other as human beings. (And, in a sort of dark irony, that violence becomes a bridge that connects them. That Paul is driven not by abstract power games among the Great Houses but by real grief and anger over the violent death of people he loves at the hands of the Harkonnens must surely be something Chani understands. And it builds a level of trust and empathy between them, that she doesn't have to explain the stakes of what they're fighting for. He knows it in his bones.)

It's not a coincidence that all their explicitly romantic moments are shot through with politics. Their first kiss is wrapped up in a conversation about what it means to be Fremen and I would very much like to be equal to you. (Yes, he's flirting his ass off with that line, but I do think he is sincere.) Their single post-coital scene has I'm no messiah, I'm a fedaykin of Sietch Tabr--not just a commitment to her people and her home but to her specific form of political struggle in which he is joining her. Throughout their whole relationship, the personal and the political are so interwoven as to be indistinguishable from one another.

This kind of commingling of emotional commitment to a person with political commitment to a culture/people/cause could have very easily slid into something tokenizing or fetishistic, but the writing manages to avoid that by sticking very strongly to a couple of guardrails. One, Chani is not some passive prize to be won, but an active agent of her own liberation, whether Paul is in the picture or not. She is the Fremen liberation struggle within the political allegory of the film; she is its voice and embodiment from the moment we meet her. On a character level, she is doing her thing and it's up to Paul to either follow or get out of the way. Even though we know he is afraid of her dying, he never once suggests she leave the front lines of armed struggle (can you imagine?) because that struggle is such a fundamental part of who she is and what he loves about her.

Two--and this one is important for what comes next--the narrative never trivializes the political side of their relationship in favor of the romantic. The second Paul reaches for any kind of power over the Fremen, over Chani, the trust between them is broken and the romance cannot continue. She might still love him as a person--you don't just turn that off--but she cannot be in love with him as the Lisan al-Gaib, fulfillment of a false prophecy she hates; as the Duke of Arrakis, her colonial overlord; or as the Emperor of the Known Universe, overlord of her overlord. As soon as he pulls that shit he is just another colonizer and she's done with him.

And like, kudos to the narrative for being absolutely uncompromising on that point! That's what makes both the political allegory and the personal tragedy hit so hard! Paul, bro, you fucked that one up good and now you are Experiencing a Consequence! I LOVE that in the end, love isn't enough. All the love in the world isn't enough to keep Chani from walking out at the end of the film, because the foundation that love is built on is broken and cannot be repaired.

(I do believe that by the time he is declaring himself Emperor, Paul thinks he has no choice, that this is the only way to save the people he loves from any number of worse fates. But that, too, is a betrayal, of a kind I don't think Paul fully understands. Because either you think the Fremen are capable of governing their own planet or you don't. Deciding unilaterally that having a "friendly" imperialist in power is the best you can hope for is a profound denial of the agency of the people Paul claims to be doing this in the name of. It's either paternalism or despair, and neither are acceptable modes of thinking for a serious revolutionary. Chani would tell you as much.)

The thing with making a bold writing choice like that is that...you cannot then walk it back in the next film with Chani choosing to forgive Paul or coming around to seeing the world his way and understanding that yes it's politically unsavory and he's manipulating the people he said he was in solidarity with but this was the only way! If you do that then the whole framework of what the first two films are trying to say about power and imperialism and resistance and solidarity collapses into incoherence. On a thematic level Dune Messiah is all about the consequences of Paul taking power the way he did and these are the consequences.

And on a character level...I just don't see any way to come back from such a deep betrayal. Even if some part of Chani still loves him. Even if she's pregnant with his child(ren). (We have like, zero information about how movie Chani feels about family and pregnancy and childrearing that would indicate that she would care one bit about her children's biological father being involved in their lives when he is otherwise busy being a space dictator.)

There are several categories of scenarios I can think of to get Paul and Chani interacting again (she goes back to him as a spy/assassin; she's brought back to the palace under some sort of duress, "for her safety" or even as a political prisoner) but none of them involve them being genuinely together as a couple. I could also see them not interacting at all for most of Dune Messiah. What I cannot see is any scenario in which she genuinely forgives him or ever fucking trusts him again. That shit is over and there's no getting it back.

#dune #dune part two #dune messiah #dune messiah speculation #paul atreides #chani kynes #paul x chani #paulchani #managed to tease out a lot of ship thoughts i have been having in one form or another in this post #let some character choices be irrevocable #it's narratively satisfying even when it's sad

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northern-passage · 16 days ago

Note

I really don't get how Lea could ever think they and the Hunter were a team, when apparently they knew about the collar thing while the hunter didn't even know??? They are the literal embodiment of the Hunter's alienation and dehumanization. Will Lea (and the narrative) ever acknowledge how fucking despicable the order actually is??? They're a bunch of child abusers who prey on poor families and practice human trafficking. On that note I actually deeply despise the Hunter's mentor. That fight scene with him forcing us to stand up again and again? I don't care that the same was done to him and he did it to make the Hunter stronger or whatever. That was the same logic my grandmother had when she hit my mother, and she would have done the same to us if my mother hadn't cut ties with her and broke the cycle of generational violence. I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't play this game right now as it very clearly trigger some things within me that I should address elsewhere than in your ask box, but I guess I needed to express how helpless the Hunter made me feel. Especially with Lea. My character (and myself I guess) couldn't sit down and have a normal conversation with them given how blind they were to the Hunter's situation, and that was even before I understood what the collar thing truly meant after replaying the demo and reading the last snippet you published. Lea comes from a powerful family with ties everywhere, they are literally called our 'handler', and they know what the ladder does to someone (both short term and long term, mentally and physically)... And they truly think them and the Hunter are the same??? Equals??? The only explanation I can find is that they grew up their entire life within the order and never knew anything else, and so this is a case of great ignorance and deep denial. They need a good wake up call and a lot of character development, but when I see Noel's reaction and Lea's behavior during their rival route, I'm kinda worried.

well... i mean most of what you've mentioned here is The Point. Lea is a hypocrite, and the hunter can argue with them and refuse their partnership because of it. Jorah is an asshole and treated the hunter poorly at times, to the point that him and Rodrick argued about it frequently, and is why Rodrick attempts to intervene when they spar. the Order does cause harm and coerces people into their ranks, usually children or those that are more vulnerable and lack other options; and this is always true no matter how the hunter tries to justify it and convince themselves otherwise. all of the people and institutions in this game are complex, none of them are righteous, and they exist as they do because i have something i want to say-- all of these are choices i've intentionally made when writing this story.

and we're only on chapter 1 right now (and even before the rerelease, only on chapter 2), all of the characters need character development, none of their arcs have even started yet.

this story is supposed to make you Feel, big feelings and little feelings, my goal is for people to connect with the characters or at the very least just empathize with them and have a desire to see their stories through. i'm not out to trigger people but this game is intended to be a dark fantasy that explores heavier topics. i'm always open to discussing my thoughts behind certain characters/narrative choices and i will always welcome suggestions if you feel i need to add something to the content warning list, but i really don't like asks like this, and i'm not really sure how to respond as a stranger on the internet. you can either trust me and my intent as the author, or maybe it would be better to not continue with the story if that's what is best and safest for you. only you can know and make that choice, not me.

#no judgement either way i have the content warnings there for a reason i know this story isnt for everyone & can be upsetting #but i would appreciate in the future. for people to not vent personal traumas to me in my inbox #ask #anonymous

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ldrloversblog · 13 days ago

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In defence of Vivziepop and the women of HB

I’ve been seeing a lot of people criticising and bashing Vivienne for the way she writes her female characters compared to her male characters and to an extent fans and the antis are correct and their criticism is valid but it’s reached to a point that the fans and the antis are being more misogynistic than the person the claim to be a misogynist (Viv).

They are always blabbering about how she can’t write a woman who isn’t mean, evil, emotional and has no depth or a sad backstory. I believe that most of the times people forget that Viv is not the sole writer of the show, yes she is the creator but she is not the only one in the writing room she is not the only one who has control over the story and the characters there is whole team involved.

“But all her female characters are mean without reason”. Wrong there are reasons why they are the way they are.

Verosika is the way she is because of Blitz. In AT we learned that when she finally mustered up the courage to confess her love for the person that was her boyfriend and presumed bodyguard at the time (since she is a pop star) left her in the middle of the night without an explanation and stole her credit card which he maxed out on horse riding lessons. Ver isn’t a bad person just because, she is that way cause of heartbreak, hurt and betrayal. She even had his name tattooed on her arm that’s how committed she was.

Barbie Wire, a child with an abusive father turned to addiction and alcohol and we know that she still keeps on using because of a freak accident that killed her mother, burned the circus, left her and Blitz’s best friend disabled for life and scars than can never be healed.

Loona an abandoned child that grew up in the orphanage and every time she got adopted she got turned back due to her temper and problematic teenage behaviour. Of course someone who was never wanted as a child and treated nicely isn’t gonna be all sunshine and rainbows. Despite all that Loona has come a huge way from being the always mad, defensive and socially awkward hellhound we met in ep.1.

Octavia, one of the most if not mischaracterised and wrongly hated character of the show. The first time Octavia is shown to us she is a child that has a terrible nightmare where she can’t find her father anywhere. From that alone we can understand that Octavia is someone who’s afraid of being abandoned by the only person that she can find comfort in. Her parents constantly scream at each other and most of the time ignore her (whether it’s intentional or are too wrapped up in their own problems and goals) and never try to communicate with her properly or explain the whole situation. She is not a spoiled little princess who’s always broody and “emo” and annoying just to be, she is 17 a very vulnerable age at which she needs the two people that are supposed to take care of her in the world the most but she doesn’t and she feels that she never had them cause she never mattered, the only thing that mattered were their petty fights and duties. Via is allowed to feel hurt by her parents actions and lack of care and is right to confront them for their shitty behaviour towards her her whole life. She needs time to process what’s going on and come to terms with her own emotions and situation. If she doesn’t want to hear what Stolas has to say right now then that’s the right thing for her to do now. The love and trust she has for him is so strained and it’s gonna be a while before he can make up for his mistakes.

Stella is another character that the fans and antis complain that is evil (or cartoonishly evil which is boring as they’ve said after the last episode) because Viv has always to make her women unlikeable and stupid. Stella and Stolas were forced into the same fate without their consent at the age of 10 and have been miserable ever since. I like Stella I’m not gonna lie she is not the best written villain and we don’t know why she is the way she is but what we know is that she really hates and resents her husband and doesn’t really care for her child unless it’s to manipulate her against her father. Cartoonishly evil or not, she is entertainingly stupidly evil for someone driven by her hate and big ego, a narcissist that’s always right and above everyone else but what she doesn’t understand is that her brother is holding the strings and plays her like a puppet so he can do his own bidding in the disguise of getting rid of her husband. Sometimes villains don’t need to have a heart wrenching backstory, someone or something that made them evil some people are just evil either by them themselves or their environment. There are 2 more seasons left of HB im sure that the writers sooner or later will give us a good explanation as to why Stella hates Stolas so much and wants him out the way.

Millie a Wrathian who thought that she was good for nothing but killing people and being “the muscle”. Millie (as seen in GF) worked by herself taking jobs to survive and make a living until she met I.M.P and became a part of a team, a family that taught her that she is more that just a machine to kill people and is now the best version of her self. Married, happy with her career choices and I can’t wait to see how s3 will handle the unplanned pregnancy plot because there are a lot of things on stake here.

Why do we as fandom always have to demonise women for the smallest things and baby men for the horrible and wrong things they do and have done to others? Why don’t you give the same energy to Paimon, Cash and Crimson? Neglectful and abusive fathers? Striker? Who preaches about how royals are the worst thing to happen to imp kind but the moment he is paid by a royal to betray one of his own he’s quick to take it and run? Blitz? Who until recently never apologised for the bad things he did and ruined so many people’s life’s? Stolas? Neglects his own child in favour of his lover and stuck in his own foolish fantasies in the process losing whatever little faith Octavia had in him, obliviousness to see past his nose and his (not purposefully) prejudices?

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separatist-apologist · 20 days ago

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The Prophecy

Summary: No one has seen or heard from Elain Archeron in two months…until she turns up one day in the Spring Court with no memory of where she's been or what she's been doing.

Tamlin and Lucien will have to work together to untangle the mystery of Elain's missing memories.

My gift for @olenvasynyt- but other people can read, too. I wanted to update yesterday but work is ruining my life/fun

@acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1

Elain wanted to hate Spring. She hated the males living within the manor, hated that she wasn’t allowed outside even more, but she didn’t hate Spring itself. She woke that morning to rain pattering against her half open window, soaking the wood floor below. It seemed wrong to ruin them, even when so much else was already destroyed. There were no servants, no magic to keep it all clean, and so Elain set about doing it herself.

Tamlin and Lucien seemed to avoid the manor about as often as they avoided each other. There were terse words exchanged when they did interact, along with some hushed whispers she could never quite make out. It didn’t matter—Elain had learned, since she’d been made, that magic possessed loopholes. It wasn’t a perfect, infinite thing but rather a tool, much like anything else. Doors had locks, could be broken even without keys, and so too could spells, wards, and other enchantments.

It was simply a matter of finding them. Elain spent the next two days following the chains from room to room. She could see the aura of them, the way she could on every living thing—magic was alive, in its way, and it had a specific, iridescent shimmer that marked it. To Lucien and Tamlin, it seemed as if she were merely testing the bounds of her new prison.

There were chinks, though it was strong. Lucien and Tamlin had woven the ward together before keying it with their blood. Lucien’s magic was warmer, a faint, orangish glow while Tamlin’s was brighter, a rose gold that smelled like grass clippings in the rain.

She’d need to untangle them from one another before she could go about finding the holes in which she could slip through, and that was more complex. Lucien tended to show up every time she started working, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Something had occurred between them in the music room. She’d closed her eyes for a moment, preparing to play as a way to clear her mind, and when she opened them, she found Lucien on one knee before her, hand on her leg, face ashen.

“What did you say?” he’d whispered.

“Get your hands off me,” she’d replied.

Frustrating that she’d slipped like that. Lucien had stood without a word and stalked out of the room. A bigger woman would have asked him what she’d said so at least she knew as much as he did. She simply didn’t want to speak to Lucien. He, after all, had conspired alongside Tamlin to keep her locked up. Neither of them felt sorry for it, nor did they have any intention of letting her go.

Elain wanted to sit them both down and ask what their long term plan was. How long did they think they could keep this up before someone realized? A couple months at most, if that long. And then what? When Feyre brought the Night Courts vast armies to their doorstep, what then? Would they fight a war on her behalf?

No, they wouldn’t, and Elain knew it just as surely as they must. She needed to get out before they came up with some second part to their plan, which would almost certainly involve putting her somewhere no one could find. The manor was big, with windows and doors and walls that, if need be, could be destroyed.

If only Lucien would stop trailing her. She didn’t always see him—but she could smell him. It was a distinct smell, the first she’d been aware of when she’d been dumped out of the cauldron. She couldn’t explain it, could tease out all the individual notes. All Elain knew was how it made her feel, and she didn’t like that feeling.

Everytime Lucien slunk in behind her, she felt safe. When he left, she was on guard again, nervous to the point of goosebumps and shaking, tiptoeing and peering around every corner for danger. When he was there, she was bolder. She marched into rooms without care or concern, comfortable in the knowledge Lucien had no idea what she was doing.

He was with her then, as Elain made her way into the library. It wasn’t much larger than the one in the House of Wind, which she’d spent a decent amount of time in. Rhys and Ferye didn’t have one in their personal home, which meant anything Elain wanted to read had to come from Nesta, who could be quite judgy.

Tamlin’s library was low on the sorts of classic romances Elain preferred, but heavy on history and folklore. Begrudgingly, she appreciated some of that—at least it was unrestricted. And the chains on the wards were vibrant there, swaying like windchimes just overhead. This was where she’d start unravelling, she decided.

“You can come out,” she snapped, plopping down in a chair. Lucien appeared from behind the door frame, hands jammed in his pockets. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve made sure of that.”

“Just tell us where you were,” Lucien replied reasonably.

“Even if I remembered—and I don’t—why would I tell you now?”

“So you can go home?” he suggested.

Elain scoffed. “I’ll tell Feyre everything you did. We both know you’re not letting me go.”

Lucien blinked, his expression slack for a moment. He hadn’t considered that, then. Wasn’t he supposed to be smart?

“What do you think she’ll do, when she learns?” Elain heard herself asking with boldness that didn’t seem to belong to her. It was the anger, she decided, pent up after years of polite silence. His expression was steely again. “Probably as much as she’d do if you were still there.”

Ouch.

“Good talk,” she mumbled, blinking away the urge to cry in her frustration.

“I shouldn’t—that’s not—cauldron, Elain, this isn’t how I wanted things to go between us,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Yeah, she bet not. Elain understood what it was Lucien wanted, the things he hoped for. She opened her mouth to tell him that was never going to happen, but something stopped her. Some tingling at the back of her throat, some anxiety that made her too afraid to force this confrontation.

“I’m not your enemy,” Lucien added softly.

“You’ve locked me inside this house,” she replied, equally soft. “What does that make you?”

He winced, turning his head to the side as though it pained him to look at her. Maybe it should pain him, at least a little. Elain didn’t feel bad about what she said, nor would she force herself to soften her words like she so often did.

Maybe Lucien deserved whatever he heard, if only a little.

“Just tell me where you were,” Lucien all but pleaded for the second time. “I can protect you.”

Elain laughed, then, gripping the edge of her chair tightly. “You can’t protect yourself,” she said, the words striking at the heart of him. She didn’t need foresight to know that—watching him all these years told her so.

Lucien’s expression hardened, again. “You’ve been protected your entire life, Elain. How will you fare without anyone looking out for you?”

Prick! That wasn’t…entirely…true. She only stared at him, hoping he saw the burning hatred she currently felt. It wasn’t just him that made her angry—Elain had been angry since she’d been kidnapped from her bed and drowned in the Cauldron. Often, she wanted to scream at the top of her lungs until someone relieved her of the endless, consuming monster buried within her ribs.

But she’d seen how that went for Nesta.

Perhaps it was inescapable for her, too. After all, here she was, trapped with Lucien with no way out and no rescue. Would Feyre even care once she learned it was Lucien who had her? Or would they look the other way for Elain’s own good?

Lucien offered Elain a rather filthy gesture with his hand, which prompted her to yell, “I thought you were supposed to be a gentleman!” at his retreating back. His barking laughter echoed down the ruined halls, spoiling her mood. Ass.

Elain spent the rest of her day hiding from Tamlin and Lucien and examining the chains of magic. It took her about as long to untangle Lucien’s magic from Tamlins, separating them so it was easier to pull them apart and slowly unravel the entire thing. The library was the worst place to start given she couldn’t slip out a window. But if she could get it through the floor, the ruined conservatory was just below and that had doors out to the wilted garden.

She’d decided to start with Lucien, assuming of the pair, the High Lord would be the stronger magic user. Lucien, though…his magic was complex, each chain a puzzle. Some of them burned her fingers like real flames while others were so blinding they illuminated the entire room and the hallway beyond.

A tray of food waited for her just outside her door, Lucien’s scent all over it. Guess there were some gentlemanly impulses left, though the flower in the little vase at the corner of the tray looked as if someone had squished it in their palm. She ate, door closed, before setting the tray back in the hall. She could open her window as the frame pulled inward, rather than outward, and the breeze felt nice on her skin.

It hadn’t been a week, she reminded herself. She was far more clever than Tamlin or Lucien gave her credit for, and no one understood how her magic worked. Elain barely understood it, truthfully. She’d simply begun to lie and tell people her magic was gone after the Cauldron had been destroyed, and then repaired, and everyone was willing to believe her.

But it hadn’t. Her magic was, as if ever had been, potent.

Elain rubbed at her eyes, falling backward to the bed. Someone or something had been in to clean given the lack of cobwebs hanging from the chandelier overhead. Her room smelled faintly of marigolds, strange given they were more of an autumnal flower. She turned her face toward the pillow, inhaling deeply.

Sleep came easy even when it shouldn’t. Elain found herself standing in that foggy crossroads, the path often impassible thanks to tangles of thorny creepvine. Many of the early nights, after she’d been turned, were spent at this crossroads trying to coax the vines back. It seemed important to explore them.

When she hadn’t been able to, Elain just assumed it was some irritating nightmare she’d never be free of. As Elain approached the crossroads, she found one path veering left was open to her. A rocky, paved road lay beneath her feet. Squinting, Elain tried to see where it led but a heavy, green tinged fog obscured her vision.

That didn’t stop her. Dreams couldn’t hurt, after all—right? If she got scared, she’d do what she always did and force herself to wake up. With an open path, Elain moved forward eagerly. Why now, she wondered—though it didn’t stop her. Even as she stumbled over little cracks and holes in the road below, all she felt was excitement.

Something bright flared through the fog, the source of it impossible to discern. Light appeared so suddenly it might have been her imagination had it not created sunspots in her vision. Picking up her pace, Elain tried to move faster, but the magic of the dream didn’t allow her to arrive any sooner than the dream wished.

Elain didn’t realize she was trekking up a hill until her breathing became labored, sweat sliding down her neck. If it was a dream, it certainly felt uncomfortably real. It wasn’t—this was only a dream.

At the top of the hill, Elain could see something, though the edges of it were blurred as though she were viewing it from under water. The air warped around her, shimmering irridescent as it prractically begged to be touched. Elain did, surprised to find it was wet, like dew on the grass just before dawn.

She jerked forward as if someone grabbed her wrist and yanked, sending her stumbling forward. There, standing in a glen framed by distant mountains on either side of the early dawn’s horizion, stood Lucien. He hadn’t noticed her—perhaps he wouldn’t, given this was her dream. Elain trotted behind him like a spectre, careful to keep a healthy distance between them. He was making his way toward a creek, his white shirt sleeves rolled to his ankles.

He’d nearly made it when he turned, abruptly, brow furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. Elain only shrugged her shoulders blithely, because this was her dream and in her dream Lucien had to do as she wanted. She pointed toward the stream.

“Stand in it.”

What fun, to boss him around.

Only, he didn’t move. Lucien merely remained where he was, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re in my dream, Elain.”

She blinked. “This is my dream.”

He prowled forward, head cocked to the side. Tenatively, he reached out and poked her in the cheek, only for her to swat him away. That felt real. Elain blinked again and then, before he could say a word, snatched the dagger resting casually at his hip.

“Put that down!” Lucien warned, hands raised in defense. She wasn’t going to hurt him—Elain pressed the pointed end against her finger and pricked, surprised to find it hurt. Blood welled from the wound, and when she turned her hand over, blood dripped to the ground.

“I’m real,” she said, more to herself than anything. “Where are we?”

“Autumn,” Lucien said moreosly.

“You miss it?” She didn’t know why she was asking. Elain held the dagger in her hand, arm resting limply at her side.

Lucien only shrugged, turning tol ook at the scene around him. She supposed she ought ot have guessed—the rainbow of colors dotting the mountain side certainly didn’t belong to Spring.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. Something about the magic of her dream made it easier to ask him the questions burning in the back of her throat.

“This is the only time I can see home,” Lucien replied, misunderstanding what she was asking him.

There was no point pressing the issue. She turned, wondering how to leave this dream meeting. Perhaps she could find Feyre and warn her sister she was being held hostage. Easier said than done given she had no idea how she’d walked into Lucien’s dream. The path had opened, seemingly of its own accord, and had brought her here. What did it want her to find?

But whatever clues lay in the grassy glen or the bubbling brook were a mystery to her. It looked serene—picturesque, even—but not anything more than a memory of Lucien’s brought to life by his own mind.

“Elain,” Lucien murmured, gripping her arm. He was touching her. Why? She frowned—but he was shaking her shoulders, now…and his voice was garbled. Far away. “Elain!”

Elain jolted awake to artificial lights half blinding her. Blinking her eyes open, she found Lucien half straddling her body with shredded hands, his own expression panicked. She tried to sit up only to find herself restrained, half buried beneath thorny vines.

“What’s happening?” she breathed, panic rising in her throat.

Lucien hacked at more of the vines, sending the plant thumping lifelessly to the ground. Her own skin was scratched, though nowhere near as bad as Luciens. He continued to pull, revealing a room filled with creepvine. It had come through the window, winding around the room as it sought to smother everything within it.

No longer restrained, Elain scrambled to her feet, breathing hard as she stared back at him.

“You were in my dream,” Lucien whispered, as if needing to hear her admit it. She only nodded.

“That was magic,” he added pointedly.

“I…I don’t know anything about it,” she said honestly. That much was true, at least. Lucien only frowned.

And said nothing else.

—

Head in his hands, Lucien waited for Tamlin to say something.

Anything.

“I’ve never…I’ve never heard of that sort of magic,” Tamlin finally murmured. “Dream walking?”

“I swear she was there,” Lucien repeated, though that hadn ever really been in question. “She was looking around.”

“There are very few accounts of Seer’s and their magic,” Tamlin began, hands steepled in front of his lips. His study was the worst of the ruined rooms, barely functional with the ruined walls, floors, and furniture. They’d dragged in a chair for Lucien to sit in while Tamlin leaned against his desk, which leaned aggressively thanks to a splintered leg. “Understandably, the courts that employed them weren’t keen to inform the rest of the world what, exactly, their prophets were capable of.”

“Does it matter?” Lucien asked. “How long before she goes waltzing into Feyre or Rhys’s mind and tells them everything?”

Tamlin didn’t seem concerned. “If she was going to, she’d have done it by now.”

“She doesn’t know how it works, but she’ll learn,” Lucien pressed.

“Then we have time. We need to know more than she does, and get ahead of this before she sends Night to our door.”

“What do you want me to do?” Lucien asked. They were being watched—not by Elain, who had stormed off to the library that morning mumbling about the endless survelliance happening day in and day out.

“We need to learn where she was those last two months and why she’s here,” Tamlin reminded him, though Lucien believed Elain didn’t know or remember. She seemed to have such a poor grasp on her magic that it was entirely possible she’d lost track herself in her dream world. Though, that didn’t explain how she’d ended up here.

There was something bigger than Elain, and maybe even Rhys, happening. Would Rhys conceal this from Feyre? And could Feyre keep it a secret? Would she torment Nesta with Elain’s absence if she knew exactly where Elain was and what she was doing? No, Lucien didn’t think so. He believed she’d put on a ruse—that she’d decieve him. But not the rest of her friends and family. Lucien also believed Rhys would keep it from Feyre so long as Elain herself didn’t know.

“Are we sure this isn’t a daemati controlling her?” Lucien questioned.

Tamlin rubbed as his jaw, stubbled after sevral days of neglecting his apperance. “No, I’m not. Rhys has always been cagey about what he can and cannot do, and how far his influence extends. If she’s here, and he knows it, then he knows everything we’ve done and everything we’ve said in her presence.”

“It could be a ruse,” Lucien replied, trying to think of Rhys’ angle. “If he’s considering a rival for the throne, killing you for kidnapping Elain would certainly give him that.”

“We need allies,” Tamlim mumbled, green eyes sliding to his feet.

“Don’t—don’t ask me—”

“I have to. After…after everything, so many noble families fled. I need their gold to raise an army,” he told Lucien. “I can’t hold our borders forever, and if Rhys rallies the solar courts…” He could sweep into Spring with very little difficulty, topple their fragic, unstable government, and install a puppet High Lord that owed Rhys his allegiance.

“I’ll send queries to Winter and Summer,” Lucien agreed, well aware news would travel. He’d need to be discreet and careful. “I can also…Eris…” he trailed off.

Many of the Spring Court nobles had fled to Autumn where Lucien knew they didn’t truly enjoy themselves. Beron was too controlling, demanded too much of their money, their resources, and whatever else he could squeeze from them. Transplants would be regarded as the lowest of the low, ranked just above the common fae but not as high as his favored families.

If Lucien could guarantee them power and access, he was certain they’d return. If. Because he certainly couldn’t stroll back into Autumn after Beron had put that bounty on his head. He could appeal to Eris, but…Eris had allied himself with Rhys, and who knew how deep that alliance went? Lucien didn’t know if he wanted to gamble his life on his older brother.

Eris always put himself and his own interests first, after all.

“Start with Summer,” Tamlin finally said, some scheming left to him. “After what happened in the second war…Tarquin is still bitter.”

“I’ll bet,” Lucien mumbled. “And Elain?”

Tamlin rubbed his eyes. “We could drug her to sleep every night.”

Lucien’s barred his teeth without meaning to, causing Tamlin to sigh. “Right. Then we will continue as we are and simply hope she knows as much as we know. Have you given any more thought to her vision?”

“The prophecy?” Lucien asked numbly. “No, I couldn’t begin to unravel it.”

“I have a contact in Day—a scholar who has quite the reputation. I’ll send it to her, see what she makes of it,” Tamlin murmured.

“And you don’t think she’ll find it odd our borders are closed, Rhys is on a manhunt for his missing Seer, and you just so happen to have questions regarding an errant prophecy?” Lucien snapped.

“It’s the only plan we’ve got,” Tamlin half snarled back. “We need to move quickly, besides.”

“Oh, this is such a mess,” Lucien whispered, rising to his feet. How had they even gotten here? If he could go back, he would have simply dumped Elain on Rhys’s doorstep and forgotten the entire thing.

“Do you trust me?” Tamlin asked against Lucien’s retreating back.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?” he repeated, looking up at his friend. “With your mate. Alone.”

“I—” It hadn’t even occurred to him to be concerned for Elain’s safety while he left. What was Tamlin going to do? He’d seen how his friend had once tried to court her sister and the wide berth of space Tamlin had given her.

“Of course,” Lucien agreed without hesitation. People could say whatever they liked about Tamlin—there was a lot to be said—but Lucien knew he wasn’t going to touch another Archeron even with thousands of marks on the line.

“And if I wanted to keep her here?” Tamlin murmured, his voice softer. “A Seer.”

Lucien had to work to keep himself from snapping. “If that’s what she wants.”

“It could be,” Tamlin suggested, holding Lucien’s gaze. “You ah…you said she likes plants?”

“She can’t go outside.”

“The greenhouse is available,” he reminded Lucien. “I only thought…if she preferred being here…”

“We’re holding her hostage, Tam. I don’t think the greenhouse is going to impress her, but you’re welcome to try.”

Tamlin looked as if there were other things he wanted to say, swallowed when his better sense won out. That was for the best. In Lucien’s fantasies, Elain was content to stay wherever Lucien was and never missed the Night Court.

“What about mothers estate?” Tamlin practically whispered. “The other courts aren’t aware of its existence. We keep the wards up, let them waste their time trying to get to the manor, meanwhile we’re at the border.”

“That’s risky, and is assumptive of a lot of stupidity on Rhys’s end,” Lucien began slowly.

“He doesn’t find us particularly intelligent,” Tamlin hissed. “Why would he check anywhere but here? I can make my presence known on occasion—just enough for his army of bats to report I’m out prowling. Business as usual.”

There was heavy bitterness in Tamlin’s voice and right then, Lucien wished he could shake his friend. Rhys had taken everything that mattered to Tamlin, and then everything else that didn’t, besides. Some of it couldn’t be helped—Feyre had always been Rhys’ mate, and had always been on borrowed time with Tamlin. And some of it was merely his one-sided revenge that he’d never move past, regardless of the part Rhys had played in all of it.

Tamlin had given them exactly what they all wanted—proof he’d never been the right kind of male to govern, to love, to even be friends with. And Lucien could admit that Tamlin hadn’t really tried to prove them wrong. He wanted to tell Tamlin that the best revenge was rebuilding his court and showing Prythian that he deserved everything he had.

“Okay,” Lucien agreed, certain it would eventually blow up in their faces. “Lets do it—in the dead of night. I’ll winnow Elain if you drop the wards for me.”

“As soon as you return from Summer,” Tamlin agreed. Lucien didn’t bother to say anything else as he left, though he hoped that, perhaps, this was the start of something new. Sure, the circumstances were less than ideal, but maybe it was all of them needed—Elain included. Someplace new, without all their history hanging over their head. Maybe they could find peace, if not as lovers, than as friends.

Lucien, at least, hoped for that.

Whether he’d get it was another matter entirely.

#elucien

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