#To reiterate it is okay to feel hurt knowing someone you look up to may be an abuser

[bludgeon-alt]

Hello.

I do not post for DSMP anymore, but for the record, although I will be keeping my c!Wilbur content up, I will no longer be creating for him at any point and no longer continue to support cc!Wilbur.

Shubble's abuser is almost certainly him. It is okay to be hurt by this possibility, but if you watch Shubble's vod and take the time to read the corroborating evidence posted by other individuals, there is no one else it could be; it is unproductive and not to mention disrespectful to deny it.

If you feel as though you cannot accept this reality right now, log off, take some time away, and focus on yourself. Wilbur is a grown adult man and does not need his fans to defend him. You are enabling him if you do.

[trippinsorrows]

through your eyes + au 5

authors note: it's been so long. omg. i'm sorry. thank you to my bestie @prettypynklemonade for essentially making me update this 😭

masterlist

words: 6.7k

**gif by @dejameflorecer

warnings: some fluff, roman being possessive/borderline stalkerish, and smut

It’s just a date. Just a low, non-commitment type of date. 

At least, that’s what Solana keeps trying to tell herself. Keeps trying to remind herself. Keyword being trying, because of course, she decided to go the route of self-sabotage and self-harm by keying in Rhea on just what’s been going on, and more specifically, who she’s going on said date with.

“Are you out of your fawking mind?” Solana sighs while Kayden does her eyeshadow for her. 

The shorter woman snorts, working to blend in the crease color. “Well, that went as expected."

“Is this a joke? It has to be a joke?” She walks over to the two women, her tall presence alone demanding their attention. “Please tell me this is a joke.”

Kayden bites on her lip. “I—I don’t think it’s a joke.”

Solana sighs. “Rhea—”

“Sola.” Nothing about her voice indicates anything about what she’s about to say is going to be nice. “You can’t do this.”

“It’s just a date, Rhea.”

“Yeah, with Roman fawking Reigns.” Solana winces at the disgust imbued in his name. “He’s a sociopath. Why the hell would you even want to go out with someone like that?”

“He’s not….” Solana stops, unsure of how to word it. “I think there’s more to him than people realize.”

“Yeah, more evil,” Rhea harshly rebuffs. “Whatever you think you see in him, I promise, is an act. If he’s being nice to you, it’s only because he wants to fuck you.”

Another wince from Solana as Rhea more or less reiterates what Kayden first hypothesized when Solana confided in her best friend about the man. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Kayden speaks up, turning to Rhea. “Regardless of how we may feel, Solana is a grown woman. She can make her own decisions.”

“This isn’t a decision. It’s a big ass mistake.” Rhea’s gazes soften for the first time, her tone almost pleading. “Solana, please don’t do this. You’re one of my best friends. I don’t want to see you get hurt, and Roman Reigns is the exact kind of person who would hurt you.”

It’s strange. Just a month ago, Solana would 100% agree. Would not even be in this situation, because she would have found a way to cut Roman off, get away from him, even if it meant leaving town for a little while.

But, that was before she got to know him. Well, as much as one can get to know a mafia head who seems insistent on making her his, not excluding breaking into her home to ask her out on a date.

Solana is especially happy she decided to leave that part out of the story.

“It’s just a date,” is the final answer she settles on, not missing the disappointment in Rhea’s pretty blue eyes. “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

It’s definitely not the answer her friend was looking for, and Rhea doesn’t hesitate to make her disagreement known. As well as her boundaries.

“Well, I don’t want him here. This is your home, but it’s ours too,” she gestures between herself and Kayden. “And if you want to play with fire, I don’t want the flames anywhere near us.”

It’s a bit hurtful but fair. Solana nods. “I understand.”

She can’t allow herself to think about how the flames have already entered their humble abode, partially because of Roman’s lack of boundaries, but mostly because she’s continued to allow the lack of said boundaries.

Rhea’s gaze is assessing. “Your family doesn’t know, do they?” Intended as a question. Comes out as a statement.

Solana’s answer is quiet. “No.” 

Another pointed look. “I wonder why that is.”

“Okay,” Kayden cuts in, nervous chuckling a contrast to the tension building. “Obviously, we don’t necessarily agree with Solana’s actions, but again, we listen and we don’t judge.” 

Rhea scoffs. “Speak for your fucking self.” She kicks off the door, turning to leave when Solana calls her name. A blown out breath followed by her turning around. “Yeah?”

It feels wrong to ask, but Solana doesn’t have much of a choice. “Please…..please don’t say anything to anyone.”

A small smile sets on Rhea’s face, but there’s nothing friendly about it. “You know, Sola, the fact that you even have to ask me that should tell you how fucked up this is.” The smile is wiped away, replaced with the disappointment. “Don’t worry. I have zero desire to tell anyone about this.”

—------

“You wanted to see me?”

Roman lifts his eyes from the contracts laid out in front of him. Right away, he can see his sister is annoyed. Unsurprising. Rosalia looks and is irritable on a daily basis, but considering her activewear, he’d bet she’s even more irked with him because he’s interrupted her training.

Slamming the door behind her, she walks in and props down on the sofa closest to said door. “It better be worth my fucking time, too.”

Her comment doesn’t bother him. Roman sits back in the chair, responding in a calm but steel voice, “I’m gonna right to the chase.”

She glares. “As you should.”

Roman’s smile is small and wry. “You’re interfering in my personal business, Rosie.” The smile is dropped. “You know I don’t like that shit.”

Rolling her eyes, his twin couldn’t be more unbothered. “You mind telling me what the fuck you’re talking about? Not that I care, but—”

“I know you said something to Solana,” he interrupts, gaze cutting. “Something that upset her.” Something that made her try to push him away, and that’s the part that really pisses him off. 

His words seem to trigger something for his sister. “That little girl from the fight?” She scoffs, shaking her head. “She’s even more sensitive than I thought.”

“What did you say to her?”

“Nothing that wasn’t the truth.” Rosalia’s response is nonchalant as she casually admires her nails. “Just reminded her that she isn’t any different than your other hoes—”

Roman looks away, rolling his neck, doing his best to remind himself that Rosalia is his sister. She’s family. His response to her can’t be like it would to anyone else in this moment, where he’d already have pulled out his gun and lodged a bullet in their head.

He has to be…..mindful.

Running his hand through his beard, Roman manages a curt response. “Do me and yourself a favor, and stop fucking talking.” Because the more she does, the harder it will be to control his brewing temper. “Stay the fuck away from Solana.”

If he didn’t have her attention before, he most definitely has it now. “Excuse me? I don’t give a fuck about any of your little whores—”

He slams his fist on the desk, unable to taper his temper. “Call her out her name one more fucking time, Rosalia.”

His twin, however, is unbothered. Her eyes narrowing, assessing, studying. “Careful, brother, your feelings are showing.” Roman says nothing as his sister leans forward, head tilted. “You actually like this girl, don’t you?”

He doesn’t look away, but he doesn’t answer the question, either. “As I said, my personal life is none of your fucking business.” 

Not answering the question is a bit of a necessity, because he doesn’t really know how to answer it. Saying he likes Solana feels a bit too much. He’s intrigued by her, massively so, intensely attracted to her and fantasizes about the day he can fuck her senseless. However, all of that can be true along with the fact that he doesn’t actually care about or like her.

Again, it’s just the intrigue of it all. She’s the first of many, many, women he’s entertained over the years that hasn’t fallen at his feet. Who he is, the power he holds, and the wealth he possesses doesn’t make her bat an eye. None of that means anything to her. In fact, she’s most definitely the first woman he’s had to pursue in his over thirty years on this earth, and while that may seem irksome and not worth it for most women, Solana is different. He doesn’t know how, but it and she just is. Hence him needing to put his sister in her place before she fucks up just whatever this is.

“And I as I told you, I don’t give a fuck about your personal life and who you decide to fuck. She was just there, and I told her the truth. Not my fault she couldn’t fucking handle it.”

“Rosalia.” He closes his eyes, that damn temptation to snap on her at an all time high. He’d never hit his sister, not unless they were training together, but he certainly isn’t above cussing her ass out and screaming at her. Right or not. “I’m only going to say it once. Leave Solana alone.”

His twin matches, meets, and maintains the stare-off. Sibling against sibling. Alpha vs Alpha. Naturally, she is the first to walk away, not back down. Never that. Just recognizes it isn’t worth it.

“Whatever.” She dismisses, standing up, hands on her hip. “Anything else you need to waste my time with?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, turning on her heel. “Didn’t think so.”

Anyone else would receive a much different response, especially as his sister slams the door, but as already stated, this is his sister. Rosalia drives him insane, but he loves her. It’s always been the two of them, and it always will be. Immediate family, at least. He just needed to establish some boundaries with her, and that’s been done. Should she decide to test them and test him, well, he’ll cross that bridge if and when they get there.

He doesn’t have time to focus on that. 

He’s got a date tonight to focus on. 

—--------

“Oh my gosh…..”

Solana has been on her fair share of dates. Most of which take place at a restaurant, from regular ole Red Lobster to restaurants with names so foreign and fancy that she can’t pronounce. Though the latter only happened once, and it was a disaster, resulting in her sneaking out halfway through the date.

But this, standing on the dock in front of the most stunning yacht she’s ever seen, she's certain that this takes the cake.

Solana is prompted by security to move so they can escort her onto said yacht, and she's so consumed by taking in everything majestic around her that she ends up completely oblivious to when she’s taken directly in front of the man himself.

Roman

He’s dressed appropriately given the setting and weather. Nice, short sleeved beige shirt with khaki shorts and matching shoes. Expensive watch on his wrist. Gold chain around his neck. Smoldering gaze on her, drinking her in from the bottom of her heels to the top of her head where her hair is pulled up in a nice updo.

He licks his lips. “Gotta admit, I was hoping you’d wear red.”

She refuses to tell him she considered it. “I—I like pink.”

He makes a sound and offers his hand. Solana takes a second to accept it, gasping quietly when he tugs her closer. “I like it.” His eyes flicker with something. “I think I’d like you better in nothing instead though.”

Solana tenses, hating the way she’s hit with something other than discomfort and is immensely grateful when he smiles. “Relax, sweetheart.” He starts to guide her behind him to where she realizes a table is set up for them, a romantic, beautiful dinner. “I’m a man of my word.” Solana tries not to think too much of him pulling out her chair for her. “I said no touching.”

Damn.

Embarrassment fills her at such a betraying thought, because why should she feel disappointed at that? 

Roman sits across from her, staring almost. “God, you are breathtaking.”

It’s hard not to look away when God Himself bestows such a compliment. “Thank you.” And she means it, something warm and almost comforting brewing in her belly, replacing the abundance of nerves. “You—you look handsome.”

He always looks handsome though. 

And judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it. “Thank you.” His gaze is studying, as he admits, “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Curious, she asks, “what would have happened if I didn’t?”

His smile is cheeky. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

She does. Solana knows this man would welcome himself into her home once more. Into her bedroom. And potentially, into her.

Thus, her showing up tonight truly was for the best, and the more she sits across from him, dialogue easy amongst them, something tells it was also the right thing to do.

Solana glances around, suddenly unnerved by him looking at her so much. It’s equally unsettling as it is flattering. “This is beautiful. You—you rented it out for us for tonight?”

He smiles again, but it’s more amusing than anything. “I own it.”

Her eyes widen. “You own it?”

“Bought it for tonight,” he answers, making her eyes widen even more as he reaches for the bottle of wine, popping it open and starting to pour some in her glass followed by his.

“Wait, you bought a yacht for our date?” Even saying it aloud sounds ludicrous. “An actual yacht?”

“Pretty sure I answered that already.”

“Roman, that’s…..” She trails off, unsure just what to say and make of that. “We—we could have went to a restaurant or something.” Solana would have preferred that over him spending an obscene amount of money for just one night.

He shrugs. “You said you wanted something private.”

“Restaurants have private rooms, Roman.”

His voice is dangerously calm and smooth. “But not a private bedroom.”

Oh, Jesus.

Solana shifts in her chair, looking away as he chuckles. “Are you always this wound up?”

“I’m not wound up” she replies, feeling an unfamiliar amount of defensiveness. “It’s just….you’re very bold.” And, you don’t take no for an answer.

“I see something I want, and I go for it.” Is his simple reply as he picks invisible lint off his shirt. “That’s extended to people as well.” 

Solana doesn’t doubt that one bit.

Eager for a changing of subjects, she’s about to inquire about when the waiter—or whomever—will arrive when he takes her for yet another loop. “So, I was looking at your Instagram—”

“My Instagram?” She doesn’t mean to interrupt, but it’s hard not to. “H—how?” A valid question considering her page is private, and it’s been a couple weeks since she accepted any follow requests.

“I told you already. When I want something, I get it.” His answer objectively makes no sense but somehow answers her question. “I didn’t read your bio. Just looked at your pictures.”

Swallowing, she finds herself asking, curious almost, “and?”

His brow lifts, matching her curiosity. “And?”

Unsure why she's suddenly so nervous, Solana clears her throat, asking, “what did you think?”

The delay with his answer is the farthest thing from helpful with her anxiety. “I think there’s a lot more to you, Solana Miller, than I initially realized.”

Another almost vague answer that has her sitting forward in her seat, asking almost desperately, “is—is that a good or bad thing?”

The smile returns, and for the first time tonight, it doesn’t seem or even feel like there’s something underneath it. Just a genuine, authentic smile. 

“Tell me the more, and I’ll let you know.”

Solana chews on the inside of her cheek, not wanting to mess up her lipstick by biting down on her bottom lip. "What do you want to know?" 

His answer is instantaneous this round. "Everything."

It’s such a broad response, and off the top of her head, Solana is struggling to recall her posts. She’s shared photos of herself, obviously. Photos with friends and family. Photos of her bookstore and hobbies that include cooking, books, bible journaling, and even her horse, Rainbow. 

But, all of that seems too much to dump on a man for the first date.

Maybe the last.

Thus, her settling on sticking with the major things. 

"There's not much to me,” she answers with a shrug, taking a sip of her champagne before continuing. “I'm....I'm an RN, but I've been on sabbatical for almost two years now. I—" There's a type of sadness that bleeds into her voice. "I was working in the ER, but the things I saw...." She shakes her head. "I just needed a break, needed to not be surrounded by so much death.” An honest, truthful, almost vulnerable thing she’s grateful Roman doesn’t press her on despite the absolute intrigue in his expression as she shares pieces of herself. 

A small smile falling on her face, she continues. “I've always found an escape in books and writing. Another passion I share with my mom, and we opened the bookstore and that....that's been it."

She’s not sure what she expected him to follow up with, but his question certainly isn’t it. "Does she work there with you?"

Ignoring the almost warmth that fills her at such an innocent, kind question, Solana shakes her head, "No, she's a cardiologist over at Central hospital." For whatever reason, even though he most definitely did not ask, Solana finds herself providing additional, unasked information, "she was a nurse back in Mexico, but when she married my dad and moved to the states, she went back to school and got her MD."

He sits forward, elbows on the table. "Did you ever want to do the same? Be a doctor?"

"I did, but...." Solana leans back in her seat, shrugging. "I was a gifted kid. I did all honors classes and a running start program, so when I graduated at 18, I already had my associates and was only in undergrad for 2 years. Did an accelerated program to get my RN, and by 20, I just felt burnt out from it all. I needed a break from school. Then I needed a break from nursing, and now I'm just....trying to enjoy the quiet."

An ironic thing considering there's nothing quiet about the man sitting across from her. 

It’s what causes her to ask, voice soft, "Roman....what do you want from me?" 

Because this can’t keep going on without her knowing just where they’re going. She needs some guidance, some insight into where his head is. Outside of the sexual aspect of this all. 

That part is very clear.

Roman seems to really sit and mull over her question, his handsome face shifting into something serious and genuine. "Not sure, but I'm intrigued by you, and that doesn't happen. Ever. So, I want to see where this goes."

It’s an answer, so she can respect that much. But, the fact that specificity is lacking in his response bothers her. What about her intrigues him? Is it the fact that he’s been able to initiate some type of intimacy both times they’ve been alone? Does she seem easy to him? Because, if that’s the case, the line in the sand needs to be drawn here and now. 

“Roman.” Solana is the one to take her time in figuring just how to word this. "You should know that I—I meant it when I said I'm not like that. I don't—I don't sleep around." Or at all, but he doesn't need to know that. Something tells her Roman knowing she's a virgin will only increase whatever interest he has in her. And, not in a good way. "I don't—”

His response arrives right away. “I know you don’t, and if that was what I was wanting, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” Something tells her he’s being honest. If actual, full on sex is what he was after, he certainly wouldn’t be with her right now.

And it’s his honesty that creates that bridge for her. “Roman, I know we’ve….done things.” More him doing all the things to her. “But, I mean it. I—I don’t want to have sex with you.” And before he can press her, inquire just what and why, she explains, “sex means something to me. It’s not just a thing you do. It’s a bond and connection, and I only want that with someone I have a bond and connection with.” And, I don’t with you. 

Might not ever.

“I’m fine with….other things.” She doesn’t feel the need to elaborate on that. He should know exactly what the ‘other things’ are. “But….penetration is where I draw the line.” And just where the next quiet part comes from, she hasn’t the slightest clue. But, she says it, and she says it loud enough for him to hear, whether intentional or not. “For now.”

It’s a stupid additive. One that makes his brow lift and Solana swallow. If she didn’t give up her virginity to her fiancé of all people, what chance does Roman have? It doesn’t even make any sense. He’s the last person she can see herself going that far with.

“For now….” And of course he settles on that part. Solana hates herself right about now. “I don’t really agree with you. On sex, I mean. We clearly have very different views on that, but regardless, I respect it. I will respect it.”

Oh.

That….that’s not exactly what she was expecting. 

At all.

“So what…what does that mean?”

Because now she’s even more confused than before. Because she was convinced the minute she made it clear she has no intentions on sleeping with Roman tonight, or any other night, he’d shut the shit down. Would pull away. 

That’s clearly not what's happening though. 

Roman’s answer is clear, concise, and assertive. “It means that doesn’t change what I said earlier.” He reaches his hand across the table, turning hers over, fingers tracing her palm. “I’m still intrigued and still want to see where this goes.”

Solana is quiet, sitting on each word that leaves his mouth, trying her best to process it. All of it.

What the hell is even going on? How did she end up in this position? Roman represents everything she hates about the world she was born into. People like him are the reason she’s done her best to stay away and keep her distance. 

And now, as Rhea pointed out, she’s playing with the fire God himself.

Yet there’s been zero effort on her part to extinguish the flames.

Even as they threaten to lap and consume her.

—--------

For all intents and purposes, dinner is enjoyable and not just the meal itself. Conversation between herself and the Head of the Table is normal, casual, their banter almost something natural and organic. 

And she finds herself just as interested in him as he is in her. Finds herself asking more questions about him, wanting to know more about the man who seems to not exactly be what she always thought him to be. 

Like the fact that he can cook. Or rather, claims that he can. Or that he makes an effort every Sunday to watch football with his cousins, his “best friends” as he calls them. Or even his interest in photography he shares with her, even a couple photos from his phone.

And with each tidbit shared, the normalization deepens. Roman feels less and less like a thing and more and more like a person.

The staff have just cleared the tables, Solana wiping her mouth when he asks, “where do you want to go for the next date?”

For the twentieth time tonight, she’s taken off guard. “Next date?” The small smile on her face betrays her as she teases him almost, “who said I agreed to one?”

Roman chuckles, once again reaching for her hand, holding it this time. “You did the second you stepped foot on this boat.” Her stomach drops, chest tightening for reasons unknown. “Agreed to this.”

Her heartbeat is in the danger zone as she asks in a low voice, “and what is this?”

He doesn’t skip a beat or take his eyes off her, answering so confidently, “us.”

Us

Solana is a mess. What the hell has she gotten herself into?

Shifting, she moves into a new space of trying to set more ground rules with the man who has her questioning almost everything she thought she knew about herself. “Roman, there’s no—”

“Come here.” 

Two words. So simple. Also challenging.

“Roman….”

He sits back in his chair, legs spreading just enough. “Solana, come here.”

Here would be his lap. Here would be a place that she absolutely should not be. But, it’s also the exact place she finds herself moving towards. Barely in front of him, Roman doesn’t hesitate to yank her down on his lap. She’s sideways, face angled down at him, hands on his shoulders. 

"Let me help you understand." Roman’s fingers dance up the spine of her back, adjusting her position on his lap, Solana having to ignore the sizable bulge underneath pressing into her ass. 

Why is he hard?

An unspoken question that’s drowned out by the alluring sound of his deep voice. "You're with me now. That means if someone looks at you, I'll kill them." His hand eventually moves to the side of her breast, applying just the lightest pressure, but enough to have her squeezing his thigh. "If they breathe too hard around you, I'll kill them." Solana has to bite on her bottom lip to retain what's bound to be a moan when he slides his hand to the front of her body, fingertips massaging her exposed skin through the cutouts of her skimpy dress. "And if they try to fucking touch you, they'll wish I had killed them when all is said and done." 

Completely stunned, she isn’t sure how to respond to that. Isn't sure what to say. Her response is truly something that spills out her mouth….”you’re crazy.”

Roman, however, just chuckles. “I’ve been called much worse, sweetheart.” He then sits up a bit, her eyes closing as he ghosts his lips over her shoulder. “Regardless, you still came tonight, stayed, and now you’re sitting on my lap. You know why?” Solana gasps when he moves his hand between her legs. “Because you like this shit. You like how I make you feel. All flustered and discombobulated.” She swallows, and he hums against her, asking, “wanna know how I know?” He easily slides his fingers past her soaked panties, grazing her wet pussy lips and lifting his hand to show her the proof of her body betraying her. 

Roman presents the undeniable evidence. “This is how.” And if the situation wasn’t already erotic enough, Solana can barely contain herself on his lap when he sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking each off.

Her stomach is caving and twisting and doing all sorts of things. “Roman…” 

This.  All of this is the exact reason why Solana has wanted to stay far away from this life. Has wanted nothing to do with the mafia world. The violence. The carnage. The mayhem. And yet, her thighs press together at Roman's oath and his carnal act for reasons she can't decipher.

His gaze drops to her legs, and she curses inwardly. Once again, her reaction to him is out and in the open. 

Roman smirks. "You're touch deprived...." His assessment is embarrassingly accurate. It's gross how Roman's inherently innocent touches seem to evoke more from her than her hand ever could. "I can't wait to fix that."

Solana swallows and taps into some deep rooted assertiveness as she asks, "what about you?"

Roman continues to lightly touch her through her dress. "What about me?"

Her stomach is doing all kinds of weird things, and her head clearly is several miles behind, because there's no logical basis for what comes out of her mouth next. "If—if I can't be with anyone else, then...then neither can you." 

His eyes flicker with something akin to disapproval. “I can't fuck you, but you don’t want me fucking anyone else?” He makes a sound, finger moving circles around her thigh. “Doesn’t seem very fair now, does it?”

On one hand it doesn’t, but on the other, it makes sense to her. “You say…you say you want to get to know me, to see where this goes, well that’s….that’s my stipulation.” The only one she’s really set throughout this whole thing that probably shouldn’t even be a thing in the first place. 

Roman is quiet for another good minute, finally answering. “Fine.” It’s painfully obvious he’s not excited about this caveat, but he agrees, nonetheless. “But, I meant what I said.” His voice and gaze darken again. “No one touches you but me.” His hand lifts to her neck, grasping just enough to evoke a gasp but not enough to restrict breathing. “Is that understood?”

Solana’s gaze is locked with his as she licks her lips, answering breathlessly, “yes.”

And just like that, the darkness settles into something easy.  “Good,” he says it so simply, so casually, hand dropping from her neck.

Solana just looks at him. 

It should be unsettling to her, at least a little, how easily he maneuvers between calm and charismatic and dark and intimidating. 

But, it doesn’t.

It does a bit of the opposite.

Lord, what the hell is she getting herself into? 

—-----------

After some coaxing, additional foreplay, and the reiteration of no penetration, Solana finds herself following Roman deeper into the yacht, headed toward the bedroom. The travel there is a nice distraction, Solana continuing to marvel at the luxury of it all. She wasn’t exactly raised poor, but this level of opulence is unfamiliar. But, something she most definitely could get used to. 

It’s still up in the air if it’s something she should get used to though. 

Finally arriving, Roman closes the door behind them and walks past her. Solana's eyes never leave him, especially when he starts to unbutton his shirt, discarding it to a nearby chair. 

Her cheeks are warm and reddened watching him move onto the bed, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread just enough. She’s ready to remind him of her boundaries when he motions for her with his index finger. “Come here.”

Her chest tightens. “Roman…..”

He makes a sound. “I thought I told you I don’t like repeating myself.” He did. He most certainly did. “Come here.”

Solana swallows, partially unsure why she can’t stand her ground, can’t comprehend what causes her to pull her dress up her thighs just enough so she can crawl on the bed, over to him. Her heart races even more when he grabs her, positions her between his legs, back against his firm chest. 

His lips hover against her temple. “Good girl.”

Her eyes shut, that racing heart of hers nearing dangerous territories. “Roman, wh—what—”

“Touch yourself.”

Solana’s eyes shoot open. 

What did he just say?

And, she goes to express as such, “what do you—”

He moves his hands to her dress, dragging it up higher until her black thong is exposed. “I want you to show me how you touched yourself when I left that night.”

Immediate goosebumps sprout all over her damn body, her mouth dry, her brain struggling to process all of this. “Roman….”

“Because you did, didn’t you?” His taunts are accompanied by his hand slipping under the waistband of her thong, snapping it against her skin. “You fucked yourself thinking of daddy, didn’t you?”

Solana swallows, unable to answer. Horrified at just how he knows this. How he knows she most definitely laid up in her bed, using her hand and vibrator after he left her so flustered and needing a release.

Something freezes her more when an equally terrifying and erotic thought crosses her mind. Was he watching her?

“Roman, were you—” She’s silenced by his fingers dancing along her mons pubis, continuing to taunt and tease her, eager for compliance with his task. 

“Shhh.” His lips are moving along the perimeter of her face as he travels his hand from downward to upward, palming her breast. “Too much talking.” She chews down on her bottom lip when his thumb flicks her pebbled nipple. Damn her for forgoing a bra. “Daddy’s ready to watch.”

It’s crazy. All of it. All of this. All of him. Solana should be running for the hills, should be seeing what resources she can utilize to disappear for a little while, just long enough for this infatuation he has with her to fizzle out.

But, that’s not what happens. What happens is quite the opposite. Lifting her lower half, she slides her thong down her legs, lightly tossing it on the other side of the bed, thus leaving her bare and exposed.

In more ways than one.

Almost nervously, her hand travels to that special space between her legs, a small moan leaving her mouth when she realizes just how wet she already is.

It’s not normal how aroused this man can make her with just words and light touches. 

Three fingers gliding up her vagina evoke another moan from her and an almost grunt from the man behind her. 

“Look how wet you are.” His voice is something of awe and intrigue, Solana moving her fingers back to her pussy, gathering more of her essence. “Just for me. Always for me.”

Her breath is ragged as she starts playing with herself, eyes closing, thinking back to that night. Thinking back to how good his fingers felt inside of her, working her in a way no man ever has.

Solana spreads her thighs, giving her more access to her swollen throbbing clit. “Oh, fuck….”

“That’s it,” he murmurs against her skin, slipping his hand into her dress, palming her breast. “Work yourself, baby. Show me how you take care of yourself when daddy’s not around.”

Solana’s head is thrown back against his chest as she moves her fingers from her clit, to her sticky, gushy opening. In and out, she thrusts her fingers in, all the while imagining it’s someone else touching her.  Someone else making her thrash and moan the way she is. 

And that someone else is the man behind her, the man whose name she finds herself moaning, “Roman…..”

“Hmmm.” Stll, that damn teasing voice of his, deep, baritone, and already knowing. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell Daddy what his good girl needs.”

Oh, she hates him. Hates the way her pussy flutters every time he refers to himself as daddy. How her body responds in a way that defies all logic. 

Same as her response. 

“Touch me.” It’s embarrassing how needy and wanton she sounds in this moment, the way she nearly begs him, her other hand going to his thigh. 

Solana would give anything to see whatever nonverbal response he has at this request. Something smug, no doubt. All knowing. Because there’s no way he can be surprised at such a plea with this situation they're in, how she’s finger fucking herself, leaned up against his chest, his big hands groping and feeling all on her titties. 

The erotic of it all almost calls for his participation. 

And his participation is exactly what happens.

“Oh my God,” Solana nearly jumps off the bed when Roman’s hand is over hers, his thick fingers gently moving hers to the side, the pad of his thumb hovering over her clit, two other fingers dipping inside her. “Shit, don’t stop.”

His deep voice chuckling against her nearly rocks her to her core. “Oh, I don’t plan to.”

Solana’s body moves in sync with his hand as he works her, so good, oh so good. Solana is a whimpering mess, her hand now on top of his, unable to move away, unable to do anything but sink into this all consuming hole of pleasure. “Yes. Oh my—just like that.” 

“Look how needy you are. Fucking my hand like this.” His voice is deep, primal, laden with passion and sensuality that matches hers. “Do you have any idea how I’m going to ruin you?”

Yes. Yes, she absolutely does, because he already has. Just from his hand and mouth. 

Roman’s ministrations are nearing the point of too much, Solana’s release right around the corner, something the man bringing her to heaven is clearly very privy to.

He practically growls, asking, “you gonna come all over daddy’s hand? Hmm?” 

“Yes,” she whimpers, eyes clamped shut, hand moving to his wrist, squeezing when he quickens and intensifies his actions. “God, I’m gonna—ohhh.” She’s cut off by the orgasm that wrecks her body, her drenched cunt throbbing, body jerking against him, flashing, blinding white lights against her closed lids.

And minutes later, she’s limp, slightly panting, still holding onto him, still trying to settle herself.

Never has she come as hard as the man before her makes her come. It’s….overwhelming. In all of the right ways.

“You don’t think we’re done, do you?”

It’s that question that makes her eyes shoot open. What did he just say?

But before Solana can process anything, Roman is moving them, switching around their positions, and it’s when he goes to lift her, she realizes just what position he’s putting them in.

Trepidation consumes her. “Roman, I can’t—”

“I’ve been thinking about eating you out all day,” he groans. Solana hates how easy and natural it is for him to say and admit to the most filthiest things. “Come sit on daddy’s face, so I can suck that sweet pussy.”

And that’s exactly what he’s doing, positioning her, hiking her dress up even higher, holding it scrunched at her waist. “Roman—”

“Stop talking,” he murmurs, Solana finally straddling his face, her hands gripping the headboard. Roman’s eyes are entranced by the sight of her pussy, so wet and pretty, dripping and needing him. “Come here….”

“Roman!” She gasps, when his strong hands tug her down, his mouth completely covering her, his tongue thrusted inside her tight hole. “Oh shit.” Solana’s head falls against her forearm that’s across the headboard. She’s seen this position in porn, has heard her friends talk about it, but no one told her it felt this damn good.

And maybe it’s less the position and more the man.

Roman’s moan underneath her as he eats her out, feasting on her pussy like it’s his first meal of the day, seems to lean on the side of less the position and all the man. 

There’s no concern in the world about suffocating him or too much of her weight bearing down on him when Roman’s grip on her thighs tighten as he pulls her even closer, his tongue circling around her engorged clit.

“God, it feels so good,” she moans, one hand reaching for her breast as she plays with her nipples, grinding down on his face. “Daddy….”

Roman’s groan underneath her is loud and unmistakable along with the way his left hand moves to her ass, giving a slap that echoes through the room and evokes another moan from her. 

She’s not entirely sure what stamina is required for eating pussy, at least the way Roman does, but his seems above average. Because Solana is propped up on his face so long that she feels her thighs begin to cramp and tense, resulting in her sinking down farther on him. And for a brief second, she feels bad, worries that her weight is too much. But, it’s quickly shoved to the side when he once again tugs down on her, welcoming it, welcoming and wanting her cunt to completely suffocate him.

A torture he seems to be deeply enjoying.

It takes some time, what feels like hours, hours that are filled with nothing but pleasure and ecstasy, before Solana’s orgasm overtakes her. And once again, she’s a whining, moaning, writhing mess, coming all over his face and in his mouth. It’s too much, overstimulating in every sense. So much so that it’s Roman who has to carefully lift her from off his face. He moves her down so she’s straddling his lap, her hands going to his shoulders, head in the crook of his neck as she tries to settle herself. 

And, it’s not helped by the massive bulge she feels pressing up against her ass.

Roman kisses her temple, applauding her, “such a good girl for me.” She feels it, every bit of it, even if nothing about this whole thing is good. The pleasure she’s getting out of it certainly is. “Look how you came for Daddy.”

And came she did, Solana can feel his damp beard scraping against her cheek, no doubt her essence being the cause of it. It’s better to focus on that feeling and sensation vs the strange sense of pride and accomplishment she feels at being his good girl.

It's just all so confusing.

She doesn’t know how to feel about this, about a lot of what’s happened since meeting a certain Roman Reigns. Or the way he just holds her, the way she holds onto him despite being fully descended from her orgasmic haze.

One thing’s for certain.

If Solana is in fact dancing with the devil, right now, in this moment, her only hope is that it’s a song that doesn’t end anytime soon.

[fairy-writes]

Heyy

Can i please ask for something angsty fluff with Ayato and a human s/o?

MUST’VE BEEN THE WIND

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kirishima Ayato x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Human!Reader, Angst to Fluff

Notes: Ayato is :re age in this!

Based vaguely on the song “Must Have Been the Wind” by Alec Benjamin

This occurs after the events of Tokyo Ghoul and Tokyo Ghoul :re!

So, minor spoilers for that! (Some stuff may be incorrect; I haven’t finished the manga and am looking at the Wiki for everything)

*TRIGGER WARNING FOR IMPLIED ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS* (not with Ayato)

__________________________________________________________________________

Ayato always prided himself on his hearing. Even for a ghoul, it was exceptional. He had always been able to hear even the smallest detail in a conversation. The rustling of clothes, the quick inhales and exhales, he could hear it all. 

It made for awkward encounters in the apartments around him. Whether that was sex, arguments, or a combination of both, he could hear every syllable. 

Earplugs became his best friend when he was home in his apartment complex. 

At least… until he heard something about you. 

What sounded like a glass shattering against the wall or floor sounded above Ayato. 

With a frown, he paused his video game, and pulled off his noise-canceling headphones to listen better. He didn’t know much about you, only that you lived above him. You were the only one to welcome him into the complex when he moved into his little two-bedroom apartment. 

He knew some vague information about you. 

You lived in apartment 305B, just as he lived in 205B. You kept to yourself but always made it a point to wave to him when you passed each other in the halls.

You were cute, quiet, and, more importantly, you were human. 

Someone shouted. Something about lying. And then you responded.

You sounded like you had been crying.

Another glass, more shouting, more crying. Ayato stared at the ceiling for a moment, debating, thinking, mulling his choices over. Then, he made a choice. 

His game was switched off. He pulled on trousers over his boxer shorts and zipped up his jacket. He was out the door before he even knew what was happening. 

What was he going to do? Fight your significant other? Kill them? He had put that all behind him, what with the incident with his brother-in-law last year. And while he hated the phrase, he considered himself a changed man. And that meant he would actually help humans in need. 

A short elevator ride up to the floor above him, down the hall, third door on the right. He paused outside your apartment door, pausing from knocking on the door. 

What was he doing?

Before he could think too much about it, Ayato took a deep breath and knocked. 

You opened the door a moment later, sweater zipped up to your chin despite the humid summer heat. You swallowed thickly, shifting from side to side, 

“Mr. Kirishima! How can I help you?” You said, the cheer in your voice obviously being fake. Ayato shrugged, 

“Just wondering about the noise I was hearing. Is everything okay?” He said quickly, and you blinked, staring dumbly. 

“Oh! The glass? Sorry, I’m just a bit clumsy! I didn’t mean to disturb you, I’ll be more careful—”

“I meant the yelling. Is everything okay?” He reiterated and watched your face fall. 

“Must’ve been the wind.” You say quickly and go to shut the door. But Ayato can’t shake the feeling that something is terribly wrong. So, he wedges his hand in between the door and the doorframe and stops you. 

“Oi! What's the holdup? Get back in here!” Comes another voice, and your expression twists in a brief flash of fear. It wasn’t on your face for long, but it was there. 

And for whatever reason, it hurt Ayato’s heart to see it. 

But before he can do anything, you shove his hand off the doorframe and shut the door hurriedly in his face.

The next time he goes up to your apartment, it’s a week later. 

Ayato is woken up in the early morning by a slam of a door that rattles the walls of his apartment. Instinctively, he feels his kagune pop and fizzle underneath his skin, and he knows for a fact that his kakugan is turning his eyes into a nightmare of black and red. 

He can hear some angry choice words coming from your partner, and the words make him grimace. No one should be talking about you that way. So, again, he rolls out of bed, throws some clothes on, and heads upstairs to your apartment. He doesn’t even bother to put shoes on.

You take a few minutes to open the door. And, like always, your sweater is zipped to your chin. 

“I said I don’t want to talk—Oh… Mr. Kirishima… You heard all that then?” You trail off and peek around the corner as if waiting for your partner to come storming around the corner. Ayato nods, 

“I heard the slam, at least. Everything okay?” Once you’re satisfied that your partner isn’t going to come back, you sniffle and shake your head. 

“No… Everything is not okay. But I don’t want to bug anyone, so let’s just say that it all is alright?” You say and go to close the door in his face again. 

But… Like last time… Ayato stops you.

“Want to go get coffee?” He blurts, and the door pauses, mere centimeters from shutting all the way. He sees your watery eyes peek out of the crack and swallows. 

What was he doing? 

He really shouldn’t get wrapped up in a human’s business. 

The cafe is quiet, with few people, as you and Ayato take a seat at a booth. You order your drink of choice, and Ayato orders his usual go-to coffee. Black, no cream or sugar. Once you’re settled in with your drinks, you seem to relax, if only slightly. And in turn, that makes Ayato relax. 

“So…” He starts and watches you hide a flinch. Your hands begin to shake. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Please, if only for a little while.” You whisper, but as always, Ayato’s exceptional hearing picks up on it. 

And your tone of voice just breaks his disgusting black heart.

So… He shrugs, sips his coffee, and changes the subject.

“What do you do for a living?” He inquires, and your eyes shoot up to meet his own in shock. It's as if you’re surprised he actually listened to your plea.

When was the last time someone actually listened to you?

“I—I’m a teacher,” You say, and he feels his lips twitch in a small smile. You reminded him a bit of Hinami. 

“What grade?” He asked, and you huffed out a quiet laugh, and his heart soared at the sound.

“I teach kindergarten. What about you?” At this, he pauses. Could he say what he actually did? Aogiri Tree wasn’t a thing anymore, nor was the CCG, but there was still a stigma around ghouls. 

He then remembered the yelling at your partner. It was always about lies—lying about this and lying about that. 

So he decided on the truth. 

“I work alongside the Tokyo Security Committee with the United Front.” He said quickly and didn’t miss how you stiffened. Your normally floral perfume gained a sharp, bitter scent of fear, and he could hear how your coffee cup rattled in your hands. 

“Are you a ghoul?” You whisper, and he nods,

“I am. Does that scare you?” He asks, and you nod honestly,

“But…” He glances up from his coffee and finds your gaze locked on your lap.

“But what?” You finally meet his gaze, and a single tear drips down your face. 

“You scare me less than my partner.”

It’s at that moment that Ayato decides that he doesn’t want you to live like that any longer. 

“Come with me.” He says quickly, and you frown,

“Pardon?”

“Come with me to the United Front. You’re a human, but they’ll take you in. I have a friend, Fueguchi Hinami. She’s a teacher as well and could use an assistant.” He implores you, reaching across in a moment of bravery to take your hand. You flinch but don’t pull away.  

Instead, you seem to mull it over, nod to yourself once, and offer a watery smile. 

“Okay.”

[milkoomi]

I'm following your blog for 1 month, it's very pretty. If you could help me with confidence related any info and also my height is very short, everyone is In the class to very tall.I feel to much insecure, I wanna be an entrepreneur, I feel I'm not doing enough .

hi darling!! thank you so much for following me on here and showing my blog support! 🤍

as for your request, i think it’s important to remember 3 very important things when it comes to having confidence:

1. negative self-talk is an absolute NO

i’ve talked about this in a few other posts, but let me just reiterate this! talking down on yourself allows two things to happen: 1. you’ll allow that same negative/self-deprecating words be accessible for others to use on you and 2. you’ll only continue to bring yourself down & get further and further away from finding true confidence.

also, consider this: think about the hurtful things you say to yourself, would you say those things to someone you love? no, right? so why would you say them to yourself? your loved ones would want you to lift yourself up just as you would lift them up, so always show yourself the same love and kindness as you would to a friend!

learn to say “thank you”! when someone gives you a compliment, don’t try to shut it down with “oh, no i don’t look that great today” or “ah, you don’t mean that”. accept the compliments, even if you force yourself to say thank you you’ll eventually start believing in those compliments yourself!

2. “never compare your behind the scenes with someone else’s highlights”

this was a quote i found through a youtube video i watched on confidence! i believe way too many of us focus so much on what we see on social media and, without even giving it a second thought, we start comparing our own lives to what everyone else is highlighting on their accounts. 9 times out of 10, people are never going to show what their real life is like. they’re always going to show the best parts of their lives, and we as individuals only see the good parts of everyone else’s lives while we know the bad parts that are going on in our lives. understand that everyone has their own struggles, but we just might not see it right then and there.

everyone lives their lives much differently, and that’s okay! just because you see people moving faster in their own life doesn’t mean you’re behind or that you have to catch up. it’s your life! you can go at whatever pace you feel most comfortable! what other people are doing in their own lives shouldn’t be any kind of priority in your own life. focus on you and your own path.

3. you are enough

this kind of ties in with the last two points, but reminding and affirming yourself that you are enough will truly do wonders in building your confidence. if you need that reminder from someone else, then allow me to be that person! you are enough. your efforts have been noticed, your beauty is truly unmatched, and you will always be more than enough for yourself and for others.

i believe everyone was put on this earth to provide some kind of purpose, and we may not know what that purpose is exactly just yet, but we have a purpose in our lives. understanding and knowing just that bit of information will motivate you to achieve your dreams and reach that finish line of success! and you will get there, but you have to remind yourself of your worth!

reflect on yourself

i’m really big on journaling here on this blog, and i believe journaling can help people so much in many aspects of their life. i want you to reflect on yourself!

journaling prompts:

write down 3 things you’ve accomplished (whether in the past week, month, or year) and, essentially, write yourself a letter congratulating yourself!

what are 3 qualities about yourself that you take pride in? why?

write a love letter to yourself! talk about physical features you love or characteristics about yourself that make you happy!

think about what your loved ones would say to you, write down 5 of things and write them as affirmations (ex: “i am beautiful”, “i am capable and worthy of success”, “i have a delightful and joyful energy”)

some of my posts i’d recommend:

the art of self-confidence

finding & knowing your worth

final notes —

i wasn’t always a confident person, and there are still days where i struggle finding that confidence i need. but if there’s anything i’ve learned to overcome my own insecurities, it’s that i am the only version of myself there is. i have my own set of accomplishments and i have my own special set of unique characteristics no one else has. you have to learn those things too! there’s no one else like you, no one else who works as hard as you do, no one else who achieves the things you do; there’s only one version of you and that is so, so unbelievably special!

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[bleue-flora]

did c!Dream even realize c!Tommy was suicidal in exile other than that one time where he said its not your time to die yet also on the topic of c!Discduo friendship in exile. THIS

18:39 and 20:03 https://youtu.be/c6ILC5Z5bD4?si=Z7ysWy9LOhcPf22P

the way c!Dream yells. hello?

I mean I’d have to probably watch more Exile to answer properly but, Dream’s not an idiot, Tommy is very depressed and stuff, and in his conversation with Punz later he talks about checking on him to make sure he’s okay [clip] which gives me the impression that he did know and care. But I have to also say, Dream threatened to kill him if he didn’t give over his items, so if he was always suicidal, why wouldn’t he just let him? Ya know? In that stream you linked, he seems to want to not die quite a lot asking for help against the mobs so I get the impression the suicidal ideation didn’t come till later. Even so it can be a very impulsive or sudden thought to happen when you’re upset and miserable.

I myself almost drove my car off a bridge after my friend sent me a nasty text message. Does that make her an abuser? - no. She was hurting, I hurt her, she hurt me back, and it was a shitty thing for her to do, but I don’t think she’s this terrible person because of it… anyways suffice to say a lot of people are suicidal, in fact every single one of my friends have been close, and that’s not to minimize the seriousness, I’m not saying that in any sense. (Please me mindful of what you say and do and pay attention to people in the room who may be hurting, because you never know who’s sitting at the bottom of the ocean like Tommy.) I only mean to say we all are human beings suffering and feeling alone in the world. (Ironic isn’t it? That so many of us feel alone in the world? I saw a quote once that said something along the lines of that if you ever feel lonely look at the moon and realize that there is someone else looking at the moon too and feeling the same way.) And sometimes someone can be hurting, and suicidal and depressed and hurt by others without those people being abusers, evil, bad, shitty, horrible people. In other words, Exile didn’t have to be horrible to push Tommy to the edge, not saying it wasn’t but saying it didn’t have to. In my mind, it’s likely he would have ended up on that tower from the fact that Tubbo didn’t visit him alone, or if nobody visited, if Dream didn’t show up, maybe he would’ve almost jumped sooner. Again to reiterate, I say this not to downplay Exile or Dream’s actions or anything, I’m just throwing out some thoughts on the matter…

Anyways… on a less serious note, Dream screaming in protecting Tommy is hilarious [clip] and [clip]. Reminds me of Techno’s “Phil, Look Out!”

[ahnsael]

We got robbed at gunpoint over the weekend.

First time in almost 9 years of our operation that this has happened. When I saw the names of the suspects, I thought, “I know these guys” Not personally, but I am familiar with both.

I haven’t slept in almost 42 hours. I keep replaying it in my mind with different scenarios. If I go to sleep, those scenarios just will play themselves out in my subconscious. I may go a second day without sleep. I haven’t decided yet.

I KNOW this is not healthy. But my work family is my extended family. And they were in danger. AND I WAS ON A BREAK AND HAD NO CLUE WHAT WAS GOING ON UNTIL IT HAD HAPPENED. I feel like I let them down. My adrenaline from the situation hasn’t faded. If I had beenin there with them and not on a break when it happened, I might have closure. 

I know I couldn’t have prevented the situation. But I would have been there with them. And I could have taken the hit (robbery) out of my drawer as a manager easier than it was for her as someone who is a casino attendant.I KNOW it’s’s not my fault (don’t go all Good Will Hunting on me with “it’s not your fault; I KNOW it is not but I am still allowed to feel bad that I wasn’t there for them when they needed me because I wasn’t informed until it was over).

Detectives wanted us to stick around for interviews. After crying on the shoulder of the one I felt I let down the most, they called my name and I said no. When I turned at my name, one detective said “Are you okay” as tears were streaming down my face. I said, “We were just robbed at gunpoint. You tell me if I am supposed to be okay.”

Another manager came in and I filled him in and he mentioned the HOURS of overtime I could have been getting, but I said “but then I would be drinking on the job and that would be bad.” And he said “If you are about to be interviewed by a detective, why are you drinking?”

“Because we were robbed at gunpoint this morning and we all agreed we needed a stiff one after that.”

We coped. We made jokes. We laughed together to keep from sobbing together. We were scared. I am still scared. I told one bos that I would not be getting any sleep and he took that to mean I was calling off and said “we’ll figure something out.” I had to reiterate that I would indeed be showing up to work, but that I would be emotional. I recognize the two who pulled guns on my extended work family.

They said that if we called the cops they would come back and shoot us all. I didn’t know that until AFTER I had called 911 to report the robbery. After another employee (he didn’t know the threat either) and I both called 911, deputies were EVERYWHERE. We went into lockdown mode. We chained and padlocked the doors shut (I was the one to do that, knowing that it might mean I would be the one to die if they did come back since deputies were already all over the place looking for them).

But the worse part was not being there for my extended family at work. If you know, you know. And ifyou don’t know, now you know.If you don’t see your coworkers,even the ones you don’t like, as extended family (who agrees with their uncle on everything?), you are in the wrong job. The fact that I wasn’t there for them hurts me.

I know it’s not my fault. Don’t you DARE tell me there is nothing I could have done. I know it’s not on me that I didn’t know what was happening. But I am still allowed to feel bad that I wasn’t there to take one for the team. My drawer would have gotten them a lot less money. Even if they knew about my second separate drawer with back up cash. I would have given them that too, if they mentioned it. They still would have gotten a lot of money, but not as much as they got.

One shot at a cop. He hit the cop’s car door and not the deputy. Thank goodness.

But my mom looked up an article and I saw the names and I immediately thought , “I know exactly who they are.” They were regular sports bettors. So apparently while they were placing sports bets (which they did do), they were also casing the joint. They put my extended family’s lives on the line for maybe a year and a half of salary at my pay grade. That will cost them both decades in prison. That pisses me off and puts me in a LONG line of people who want to be let into the jail to kick their asses. I am not a violent person. But they put the LIVES OF MY EXTENDED FAMILY on the line. And the fact that one of them shot at a cop proves he was willing to use that power.

Nothing pisses me off more than some coward, who is only a man if he has a gun to back him up,thinking it makes him a man. . I have no gun. If I had one, I would not be allowed to carry one at work.

But there is a LOT of discussion going around about how to to prevent this in the future. In almost nine years of being open, this is the first time we were successfully robbed. And while some ideas I agree with and some I do not, I welcome ALL ideas. The trouble is that I am the security department manager, and the security department consists of ONE security guard, and while he CAN look intimidating when he needs to, he is a eddy bear.

And he was off the day we got robbed.

But I am done waiting for detectives for hours. after work. They made me wait for four and a half hours and then called it off because I was emotional because I almost lost some of my extended family  If they want to interview me, I welcome it. But come in while I am on the clock. I am tired of working wrounf their schedule and getting no sleep as a result. I gave them my schedule. If they don’t come in, that’s on them. I waited 4½ hours after they arrived (6½ hours after the robbery) to talk to someone. At that point I was too upset and how everything was handled. I told the detective off and left.

They can interview me on MY schedule or not interview me at all. I played by their schedule and it messed me up sleepwise.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Eddie’s cheerleader girlfriend gets injured during a performance, and since they pretty much live together he’s stuck with watching over her, but doesn’t know what to do. It can be any genre,and the rest is up to you

Request by @zephyrthedoll

😘💖

♡

💖

She knew she should have taken the night off from cheerleading, called in sick, or something because now she was very much regretting the decision not to.

How she had managed to get through the majority of the routine she didn't know, it was one of the big games though and she had to make sure everything was perfect.

She smiles as she hears her boyfriend in the crowd, Eddie. He had roped in Hellfire Club to create a huge banner for her in support, he may have hated sports but he would do anything for her and was very supportive of her Cheerleading.

As they finish up the routine she misjudges her movements and because the grass is wet and slippy she falls before she can stop herself.

The impact hurts her aching sore head and she hears panicked voices and wants to get up but she feels so dizzy.

"Move out of my way Carver" it's Eddie and she almost sobs in relief.

"Eddie" she mumbles and tries to get up.

"No sweetie you have to lay still we dont know your injuries yet" Chrissy soothes her but sounds anxious.

"Want Eddie" she mumbles and he is at her side instantly.

"It's okay princess. I'm here" his fingers caress her hair and she feels the dizziness clear just a tad and smiles.

"She might have a concussion" she heard the voice of the school nurse and is gently helped up by Eddie who cradles her close as the nurse checks her over.

"Her vitals are fine, that's a nasty egg on her head though so I would heavily advise limiting activities for a few days. Bed rest is essential too, ice packs in case your head hurts"

She listens to all of this in a daze but its Eddie who takes it all in, he ever so gently helps her up with the help of the nurse.

"Cold" she manages to say as she is shaking so much and Eddie immediately flies into action and gets her into his van.

"It's okay sweetheart, I'll take care of you"

💖

Eddie didn't have a clue how to look after someone who was sick but this was his princess and he was determined to do his best.

He had asked Wayne about possible concussions and he reiterated what the nurse said about limiting activities and bed rest.

"No bright lights either, it will hurt her vision. Make sure you're with her as much as possible"

That was easy as Eddie had no plans to leave her side.

Looking after her was relatively easy, he made sure she had food and that he cuddled up beside her when she slept (he was the big spoon and loved snuggling close to his girl and feeling her close to him)

This was his first time looking after anyone but after the initial worry began to fade he found it easier to do.

He loved helping his princess anyway and had a prescription set up for extra cuddles and kisses to ease her sore head.

With Absolute tenderness, he kisses her head right on the spot where she hit it.

"All better," he tells her, and she grins while holding his hand.

"Uncle Wayne and my mom used to do that when I was very young and bumped my knees or fell. Always made me feel better",

She melts and sits up so she can kiss him.

"You're the sweetest Eddie Munson" he shrugs.

"Gotta make sure my princess gets better quickly, Doctor Munson will make sure of it" she giggles and pulls him closer.

"Well with you looking after me babe, I'm sure that I will get better very quickly. Now... how about a nice, hot, shower together hmm?"

Yeah. Eddie doesn't need to be told twice.

💖💖

[memphis-menace]

Siren!Elvis Headcanons

Disclaimer: Okay so just because I drew him, doesn’t mean my headcanons are the be all end all, okay? If you write about him, feel free to make up your own stuff about him, use this stuff about him, whatever you want! That’s the beauty of fandom! This is just how I personally think of the lad when I doodle him.

Disclaimer #2: There will be mentions of animal traits and geographical/topographical shit. I do not claim to actually know anything or claim it as fact. I am making this up, not aiming for accuracy. He’s a sexy water monster, I don’t think “accuracy” applies here.

Once again, @venus-haze has some AMAZING work out regarding her interpretation of him, and hopefully there’s more coming and I can’t wait to eat it up!

Alright, onto my version.

Okay so right off the bat, my version of Siren!Elvis ain’t exactly a fish. That interview that mentioned crocodile eyes took hold of my soul so. The boy is gator based. 🐊

Lives in a swampy/marshy river type area. Look I don’t know terminology I just know what I live by.

Originally, he sang more traditional siren-y songs; mostly just very melodic, wordless tunes. But as people started building residences and moving near his territory, he heard their music - blues, country, rock n’ roll - and decided he really liked it, so his siren song adapted accordingly.

So, being more reptilian than fishy, he doesn’t have a tail. He has semi-webbed clawed hands and feet, and a gator tail to help propel him through the water. He has scales covering his skin in certain places, mostly his back and arms? I’ll try and draw a reference for what I envision one day I’m not good with description there’s a reason I doodle instead of write fanfic 😭

Now yes, he does eat people. Come on, that’s like. The whole “siren” shtick. HOWEVER, if you should catch his eye as something other than food… 👀

Under no uncertain terms, this fella is a YANDERE. Once he’s set his sights on you, it’s over. You’re his. Prepare to be sung into submission, so to speak.

That being said, he knows that realistically he can’t keep you in the swamp indefinitely - humans are not made for mostly aquatic living. So you can stay at your house, but you better visit him every day or there WILL be a tantrum and his tantrums get bloody

Also his eyes do that reflecty/glowy thing, so if he finds out where you live and you wake up in the middle of the night to see glowing blue eyes by your bed looking at you, don’t worry it’s just Elvis, checking on you.

He may try and eat your pets but if you really reiterate to him that you don’t want him to do that he’ll concede and leave them alone.

However, don’t tell him of anyone you’re getting close to that he may consider a rival. The next day you’ll hear about a nasty, mangled, half-eaten corpse found floating down the river 😬

On the flip side, probably don’t tell him about people who are upsetting you. Unless you’re cool with a pile of bones being left on your porch. Cause like, you know how cats bring you dead animals as a gift? Yeah Elvis will do that. And will get extremely huffy if you throw them away or get rid of them; they were a gift! So what if it’s a liability and if someone finds out you could get arrested on suspicion of murder? He’ll eat the cops, don’t worry!

Fair warning, he will eat you if you try to break up with him or cheat on him. So if you’re starting a relationship with him, it’s gonna be your last one. One way or another. So proceed with caution.

He can also do that scary ass hiss/growl that gators do. Because it’s cool and I say so.

Now if you wanna hear him damn near purr, gently scratch the scales along his spine when you cuddle him. He’ll practically melt.

Now, mans got some sharp teefs. And unfortunately, biting is a love language for him. He’s not being mean or trying to hurt you, he just has to mark you up so people know you’re taken 🙂

Now when it comes to sexy time, you deadass may want to get him a muzzle because hoo lord you may end up in a hospital. He can’t always control his chompers when his hormones get high. He’ll feel bad afterwards and try to help you with the bleeding 🥺

Like most gators, Elvis will eat anything, especially if it’s something you made. Because he can’t fathom that you would take time out of your day to cook something to and bring it to him, when he’s perfectly fine eating raw meat. So it’s super special to him when you bring him food you made. It could be a deep fried boot and he’d eat it happily as long as you made it for him.

Eventually he learns (via siren magic because again, this is fantasy and I can do what I want) how to mask his reptilian features and look human, so he can spend even more time with you! Ain’t that great? :) He’s watched the humans around him for quite a while, so he knows how to behave like one when he needs to. You just need to buy him some clothes. 

This will be updated, but this is what I got for now. He’s basically a big ol puppy with some less than safe eating habits and a unique way of lovin’

He is a g8er boi he said see you l8er boi

[harleyquinnzelz]

Okay so I guess it’s time I’ve said my piece. I know I stayed silent yesterday when the current situations started blowing up my dash. I wasn’t sure what I could say regarding the situation. I wasn’t sure what I was comfortable saying regarding the situation. But after being so vocal regarding the OCFA situation, it feels wrong to stay silent now. 

Whether I decide to share my own experiences regarding the situation or not, I want to stay right from the start that Maddie was someone I considered a friend. A close friend. That, apparently, was not a mutual feeling as I was unceremoniously unfollowed yesterday by Maddie (randomestfandoms) and then unfollowed today but Emily (perfectlyemily). Let me reiterate, these are both individuals that I considered myself close with and while Emily herself has no bearing on the current situation, it still cuts deep.

I will admit, straight up, that I was foolish. I wanted to believe my friend and so there were many situations where I wrote off things that were happening. You never want to think the worst of someone you care about. I wanted to believe that things could be coincidences, and as someone who had multiple times helped Maddie brainstorm new ideas, I know the potential of their creativity. 

Let me be clear, I had friends on both sides of the issue. I defended Maddie multiple times. I didn’t want to outright take sides or potentially invalidate one of my friends who were feeling hurt or upset over potential theft. I say potential here, because at the time I wanted so, so badly to believe that things could be a misunderstanding. I know better now, and if I made anyone feel as if their feelings on the matter were wrong or unimportant then I am so sorry, and that wasn’t my intention. In trying to be a good friend to one person, I fear I may have been a bad friend to others and that was never my intention. 

As I said, I wanted to believe the best in Maddie, I wanted things to be just coincidences, despite having my own experiences and doubts. The important thing was that they were my friend and I cared about them and didn’t want to hurt their feelings. As someone who often worries about my ocs seeming to similar to someone else’s if they so much as have the same face (there have been multiple times I have reached out to other creators to discuss potential character similarities to make sure neither of us were uncomfortable), I know that there are others who have absolutely no problems with this. So I downplayed my own doubts, was willing to drop one oc and changed the fc of another to avoid feeling uncomfortable. I shared my worries with only one person who told me that I wasn’t wrong to feel weird about it, but still I shrugged them off. 

It is another situation entirely to have evidence laid out so plainly. People are sharing their receipts, and there’s no shortage of evidence. I have heard multiple people talk about Maddie downplaying their concerns when they reached out regarding similar ocs. There are accounts of Maddie getting upset when others have used the same fc after them in the same fandom, despite acting cavalier when in a reversed situation where someone would feel like Maddie was copying them by using the same face claim. 

Look, I don’t know what to say here. This whole thing is messy, and it’s hard to turn off that impulse to try to see the best in someone that I thought was my friend. And even as I type this, I worry about how this might make them feel. I know that sounds silly, especially with how quick they were to unfollow me despite my own silence during the situation. They’ve made no defense for themselves and just... innocent people don’t suddenly start unfollowing their friends who have contributed nothing to the conversation. As I said I don’t know yet if I’m going to share my personal experiences, though they have been documented in the interest of transparency. I fear that in trying to be kind I allowed myself to become a doormat in this situation and, even worse, hurt other people by defending Maddie. If that is the case I am so sorry. It’s clear that in light of this evidence and validation of my own experiences that were written off that neutrality isn’t possible in this situation. Please, don’t take this as an excuse to go and attack Maddie, that’s not what this is about. I’m not trying to perpetuate drama here, but as I said it feels wrong to keep my mouth shut now when I’ve been so vocal about other situations in the past. 

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing x.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 8, 711

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

so here is the mini monster chap !! i know I said this was going to be a drabble series but I clearly got carried away LOL

anyways, no spoilers for this chap but I can say it's one of my favs that I've written and I think we see oc getting the comfort that she deserves (and needs!)

and also !! this is my first time updating a series on tumblr and it feels *exciting* hehe, I hope you enjoy this chapter c:

let me know your thoughts in my asks!! i'd love to hear what you think so far :3

all the love and I hope you're having a great

day/night/evening/afternoon wherever you are ❤️

“Open up!”

The only person that would opt to yell to get your attention than ring on your doorbell like a normal person would be Yena. And it helped that you immediately recognised her voice from the first syllable she uttered. That and you were currently moping in your living room with lactose-free ice cream, courtesy of Jimin that dropped it off a day ago when he heard that you were ‘sick’. Even if you hadn’t seen him face-to-face, you remember him softly hoping you’d get better.

You don’t know why she’s at your door, but you’re already on your feet to get her when you hear her begin to mutter curses directed at you behind the thin wood of your entrance.

“I can hear you!” You call.

“Well bitch then open the damn door!” She snaps.

You roll your eyes, and so far with the number of times you’ve hung out with her, it’s safe to say that the two of you were comfortable. You never knew how fun having a girl best friend was until you met Yena, and sure it’s only been a little under two weeks since you’ve gotten to know her through various messages and FaceTimes, but you feel like she’s your friend soulmate.

And when you expressed that to her over a FaceTime call a few nights back, you remember her gagging all while you flush and attempt to take it back. You know her candidly calling you bitch rather than your name was her saying she felt the same.

You pull the door open as she stands there with her eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing you up and down before she scrunches her nose.

“There’s a thing called a shower that you should look into. You look like a rundown version of long-haired Noah Beck.” She grimaces when she eyes you up and down.

You scowl. “You did not just compare me to him.”

She clicks her tongue before she shoves you aside by shoving a plastic bag of the takeout food into your arms and steps into your apartment.

Yena ignores the glare you shoot at the back of her neck when she looks around your living room, scrunching her nose like she was here to inspect your room than pay you a visit.

“Did someone die in here or was that just your will to live?”

You scoff. “Wow. Drag me.”

She waves you off before plopping onto your couch while you sigh, immediately heading to the kitchen to prep the food she brought over.

“For a moment I thought you were dead.” She confesses casually.

When you return with bowls and plates, with the cutlery to match—you give her a dry look before you’re taking your seat on the floor; attempting to hide your half-eaten tub of ice cream, which Yena immediately spots.

“So your first instinct was to yell at my door in hopes that I wasn’t actually dead?” You ask dryly.

She picks up your ice cream and grimaces at it, silently judging you for the flavour before she gives you a shrug.

“Yeah. I was hoping that your spirit would confer.”

You snort. “And the food?”

“A peace offering.” She tells you like it’s obvious.

You sigh, you loved Yena—you really did. She was all over the place and random, but it was a refreshing difference that you needed in your life from the usual law and order you often opted for.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your concern,” You tell her, pulling out a container to see your favourite lemon chicken as you eye her suspiciously. “But what brings you here? I told you I was sick.”

Yena scoffs. “And sick you are, bitch. What kind of sick person devours ice cream? Sure, you look the part but your diet says otherwise. Don’t think I didn’t see the empty packet of snickers in the trash.”

You scowl.

“I recovered yesterday.” You lie, taking a bite out of the chicken.

Yena rolls her eyes and you know she doesn’t believe you. She leans into your couch while she watches you eat, “Namjoon texted me that you may need some company.” At that, you choke.

Her eyes widen as you hit at your chest to get the food to go down, eyes still wide at her revelation.

“Why would he do that?” You cry.

“Girl, I know you’re not trying to deflect—you’re literally about to choke and die.”

You glare at her. “I’m fine.” You cough for good measure, then you’re levelling another serious gaze at her.

“I’m fine.” You reiterate with an emphasis on your state even though you were anything but. “I don’t know why the hell he thinks I need company.” You mutter under your breath.

At this, Yena’s face softens as she leans forward to rest her elbows on her knees while you avoid her gaze; idly poking at your food.

“I don’t know either, and you don’t need to tell me anything.” She says softly. “That’s all I’m here for. To be your company, whether you need it or not.”

You don’t know how much Namjoon told her over a text message, but you don’t think it’s much. Purely because he didn’t seem like a snitch and he was too respectful to ever let other people into the business that wasn’t his own. Even at the thought, you want to groan because you essentially lured him into thinking it was okay for him to kiss you while you were … you don’t even know what the fuck was happening anymore.

“I—” You say weakly, and all Yena does is offer you a comforting smile.

For some reason, the fact that she’s here right in front of you after you spent the day crying and feeling like your heart has been repeatedly stomped over with the addition of your rumination—it feels nice to have someone with you, even if it’s just their presence.

But the way she doesn’t look at you and expects something out of your conversation makes you feel even more overwhelmed, and that’s probably why the dam breaks.

Yena’s eyes widen as she immediately darts out to wrap her arms around you when you end up in violent sobs. You don’t know why you’re crying but you are, and you’re tired of hiding things, your feelings and your intent just to pretend like things were okay.

“It’s okay.” She strokes your hair and it feels warm, like a mother comforting a crying baby and you realise that this is what friends should feel like.

“N-no it’s n-not!” You cry into her shirt and it’s messy, but she doesn’t seem like she minds. Especially when she supports your pliable frame.

“You wanna talk about it?” She asks softly, giving you a kind smile.

You sniffle, staring forward as you feel your eyes swell with the escalation of your tears.

“I don’t know.” You whisper.

She hums, “It’s okay not to know. You don’t need to know everything.”

“I’m just so tired, Yena.” You tell her in a hushed breath.

“Life is difficult.” She admits. “It’s natural to be tired.”

You’re thankful to hear that she doesn’t comfort you with blind optimism. She’s real and she acknowledges how shitty things may be, and frankly, you didn’t need another wannabe altruist telling you that things will get better. You knew that, everyone did. But when you’re at rock bottom and all you see is darkness, you’re not looking for better. You’re looking for a reason to continue.

“Can I say something?” She asks. The way she looks at you is soft and open, and non-judgemental. You feel safe.

You nod your head, teary eyes staring up at her.

“You’re not responsible for anyone’s feelings except your own.” She looks at you so seriously that you nearly feel your breath escape. “There are things that you can and cannot control—and the latter usually falls under the people around you.”

You suck in a breath, and you wonder how she’s so spot on without ever touching on the true context.

“Namjoon texted me but I didn’t come here because he asked me to. It’s because you deserve to have someone be around you when you’re clearly not okay.”

“I’m—”

“You’re not.” She blinks, and you almost pout at her firm tone. “And that’s okay. I don’t need to know what happened to justify how you feel. You could’ve stubbed your toe and feel like absolute shit and I have absolutely no right to judge you on how or when you feel emotions.”

You wonder where she’s been your entire life and why she was only in your life now.

“But the thing is,” She sighs. “You don’t always have to choose between something or the other. Sometimes you need to choose yourself.”

You stare up at her in awe because Yena was cool in general, her laidback and unbending personality was mainly what drew you to her because you’d argue you were the opposite. Even if Jungkook’s words stung, you could take it at face value and accept that it was true.

You were uptight and you were a bit of a prude, and for the longest time, you always resented that aspect of you. But you realised with Yena, she had traits that were resented in a woman as well. And you realise that you’d never be perceived the way you want unless you perceive yourself in a positive light first.

So when she speaks to you so sternly, yet with a tone of care as she picks apart her words so carefully—you realise what you have to do.

“I think I like Jungkook.”

Yena pauses for a brief second, but you don’t see any judgement in her face. Just confusion, a warranted emotion you don’t blame her for having.

“I figured as much.”

Your eyes widened, “How—?”

It’s almost like a repeat of the first night at the football game when you befriended each other, but she only shoots you a gentle smile.

“Call it a woman’s intuition.”

You blink, fiddling with your fingers before you stare up at her, continuing your drawls.

“And we kissed.”

At this, Yena cocks an eyebrow up, “Was this recent?”

You fiddle with your thumbs before you sigh and push yourself up.

“Thing is …” You mumble, “I’m not like that.”

You don’t answer her question because you can’t think of a proper enough response to tell her that yeah—you did kiss him, amongst other things that you foolishly allowed yourself to indulge in. You knew Yena wasn’t judgemental but you also knew that you couldn’t retrieve your words the moment they left your mouth. It was your own judgement that stopped you from saying the things you really wanted and it sucked, royally. Because you could tell that Yena wasn’t out here to crucify you for being … liberated. She just wanted to be there for you.

Yena scrunches her eyebrows in confusion as she allows your words to settle, pondering a response.

She settles for a huff, “Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t … do things like that.” You say softly. “I’m shy and quiet. I’m not active in the social sphere and I only have three friends that I can reach out to if I wanna hang out. But even then, I don’t … I don’t like partying, or drinking, or loud spaces. I’m awkward and horrible at social interaction let alone being able to navigate my romantic feelings. And … I felt so bad about it.”

Yena’s eyes soften, but you can’t look at her just yet. Not when this is the first time you’ve ever laid yourself vulnerable, emotionally that is, to someone that wasn’t just the confines of your thoughts.

“I always wondered what it’d like to be confident, to be liked on campus and not just be known as the smart girl.” You whisper. “My entire personality was built around my achievements and I didn’t know what else to do. What if … what if I peak here and fail after?” Your eyes are wide in despair, and you feel your lips quiver when you speak.

“You’ll never know.” Yena reminds you gently. “You won’t know who likes you or what people say about you—but you’re going to be hearing your own thoughts 24/7 and that’s what kicks you down or drives you further.”

You sigh, nodding your head.

“It’s just … Jungkook and I were close. We grew up together even if he’s younger than me. But we just got along well and he … he saw me. He used to comfort me whenever I’d tell him how pressuring it got and—I feel so stupid because he probably says that to everyone and I fell for it.” You chuckle with no emotion, staring at the stray thread poking outside of your couch pillow.

“Have you spoken to him about your feelings?” She asks softly.

Immediately, you scoff and the sour emotion peaks through again.

“He’s made it clear what he wants to hear from me.” You mutter.

Yena purses her lips before resting her hands gently on your shoulder.

“You’re not answering my question, ______.” She chides gently.

You nibble on your bottom lip and shake your head. That earns a sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you once again, resting her chin on your shoulder as you allow yourself to feel the comfort of her warmth.

“He kissed me first and we did things together.” Your lips quiver when you recall the memories, “A-And he’s with Jennie. I just …” You flutter your eyes shut, “I don’t want to say that I’m the other girl but I feel a lot like a second option and it sucks.”

Yena doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to justify why you felt the way you did, so she holds you tighter.

“Babe.” She gently turns you to look at her with both hands resting on your shoulders. “Did you talk to him? Properly? Do you really know if he’s with her?”

“I think them kissing proves enough to me.” You snap, and you don’t know why you’re being so hostile, especially to Yena.

She purses her lips, “You kissed him and you aren’t together.”

You wince and she shoots you an apologetic look. She sighs before reaching out to squeeze your hand, all while you stare at the ground to level out your emotions.

“I’m not saying that you can’t feel the way you do. But I’m offering objectivity here. Men are … they’re blunt creatures and that’s the biggest difference between men and women.” You furrow your eyebrows as she takes a deep breath before she continues. “And the idea that we’re equal? No, we’re not. I’m not talking about our systemic positions in society but on an emotional level. Men take things surface value and work with it, they don’t stop to think about the layers of feelings that go into interpersonal relationships with friends, family or lovers. Women? We go big or we go home. All we see is the big picture and sometimes the little details get lost in translation. This isn’t me justifying Jungkook playing home with you or Jennie at the same time, but offering you a perspective that may be hard for you to see because you aren’t him.”

It was true, and you hated yourself for being aware but not putting action based on your own thoughts. Yena only reaffirmed the idea that you overthought every single interaction and maybe that was why you were the one that was hurting.

That, or you and Jungkook had horrible communication problems that neither of you was ready to face just yet. But how could you? When the two of you were on two different wavelengths and you were trying to be just enough for him while he was jumping off pedestals to see you.

It didn’t feel nice, and it sucked because he was the same person that comforted you and broke you all at once.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

She smiles at you gently, patting your head gently as you peer up at her with tears between your lashes.

“And that’s okay.” She reassures you with a soft voice, “The only thing scarier than being scared is not feeling at all.”

Before you go to where your heart tells you to—your mind is the only thing that keeps you rooted in some form of rationale. That’s probably why you’re outside of Namjoon’s dorm. You don’t think you’ve ever paid his place a visit despite him telling you his address on multiple occasions, usually opting to hang out in public yet serene places where you were able to get a breather.

Your feet feel heavy and your fist is raised, but it barely moves. Especially when you’re just eyeing his door like a deer caught in headlights. You’ve rehearsed the apology on your tongue a million times, even if you don’t really know what you’re apologising for. But you feel like you must, particularly because you’ve senselessly let him see all of the feelings that you were trying to suppress in hopes of retaining the same ones he had for you.

You take a deep breath and deliver the first knock, the vibrations making your arm feel weak.

But you’re tired of always surrendering to bigger and more frightening things that you could understand. So you purse your lips and play the waiting game.

It seems like a long twenty minutes that you wait, but in reality, it’s only two when the door swings open. You brace yourself to see Namjoon, apology already sitting on your tongue.

You should’ve dropped a text, you knew that. But you decided against it because you haven’t spoken to Namjoon since what happened a few days ago. Neither of you speaking about the kiss or the way your eyes glistened when you saw Jungkook and Jennie together.

“____?” He asks confusedly.

You give him a meek smile, “Hi. Can I come in?”

He blinks at you, and you notice he still has his glasses that he usually forgoes during the times you’ve hung out—and you feel a little guilty for catching him at a bad time.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Sure.”

Namjoon steps aside and you’re welcomed into the space of his living room. The first thing you notice is the interior, and how … Namjoon it was. It’s both cluttered and neat, the palette of his furniture matching the overall vibe he emanated. His furniture is mostly wood, light sandalwood that makes it feel all the homier.

And you tell him such, “You have a very homey place.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you right before he plops himself back onto his couch where you see the bits and pieces of paper scrambled across the floor and the couch. Even then, he was able to look so welcoming even though you reckon he has a right to be hostile—for a reason you came here to apologise for.

“Thank you.” He flushes, patting a spot in front of him for you to take your seat.

When you settle, the atmosphere turns strained when you mull over your words so that you wouldn’t stumble over them. You practised, you did—about a hundred times before you came here and you thought you were ready to apologise and put things behind you but it’s proven difficult when all he does is look at you in earnest.

“Not that I—uh—mind,” He mumbles, “But is there a reason why you’re here?”

You blink at him as you ignore the quiver in your heart.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt.

“_____ why are you—”

“You didn’t deserve what happened the other day.” You interject, voice soft but unwavering when you force yourself to look at him as his eyes widen.

“I wasn’t the one that saw something I shouldn’t have.” He reminds you with a frown.

You swallow, “I kissed you. And you …” It wasn’t helping that he was looking at you so gently as he awaits your continuation. “You didn’t need to save me back then, Namjoon.” You end in a whisper.

Namjoon reaches out to grab your shoulder, touch gentle as he searches for your eyes.

“I didn’t save you …” He tells you tenderly.

“It’s not just that!” You exasperate while you throw your hands up in the air. “I-it’s everything … from the way you treat me and the way you look at me. You didn’t need to do any of that and you even—” You trail off, fluttering your eyes shut. “—what did you say to Jungkook right before we left?”

Namjoon’s eyes enlarge as his grip becomes tense against your shoulder. You can almost see the way his mind kicks into gear as he thinks of a response.

“That—I—does it matter?” He huffs.

Your eyes soften, “Namjoon.” You force yourself to look at him even if now he was the one that tries to avoid your gaze. “What did you say?”

Namjoon tightens his lips before he sighs deeply, head dropping forward before he looks at you.

“I told him to be honest.” He says softly.

You furrow your eyebrows, “To be honest …?”

“I know you have feelings for him.”

Your face blanches when Namjoon basically exposes you. It’s one thing for you to be self-aware of your complicated feelings towards the other boy. But when someone else points it out, especially when it’s Namjoon—the boy who’s been nothing but kind and patient with you while you’re too busy being caught up in your emotions—it’s like a slap across your face.

“I-I don’t—”

“You don’t need to lie to save my face, ______.” He chuckles dryly, eyes darting away as he tries to neutralise his expression. You wince at the spite he establishes, but you know deep down that Namjoon isn’t angry at you. No, he was far too understanding to be. Disappointed? Frustrated? Sure, but never angry,

The silence answers for you when you look away this time, eyebrows scrunched as you attempt to navigate the conversation. You came here to apologise, and to be honest.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“Don’t.” He takes a deep breath as you flinch. “Don’t … apologise.” He sighs.

“I didn’t mean to lead you on, Namjoon.” You murmur apologetically.

He shoots you a half-hearted chuckle, “You didn’t do anything. Really.”

“But I did, Namjoon. I kissed you back.” You frown.

“That doesn’t imply anything. I kissed you, and you reciprocated. We all kiss someone and not mean anything by it.”

You flinch, and you’re familiar with that more than anyone else. The reminder only stings because it makes you realise that you were not much different from Jungkook, the same person you’ve claimed to have messed with you and fucked you over.

“I’m—”

“Please don’t apologise anymore.” He says. “I already feel like shit.”

You smile sadly at him, “How do you manage to be so nice even when other’s do you wrong?”

Namjoon sighs, then he grabs both your hands in his. “You didn’t wrong me, _____. It’s not your fault you don’t feel the same way I do.”

“How did you …” You trail off.

“How did I know you had feelings for Jungkook?” He chuckles. “The same way he knew I had feelings for you.”

You purse your lips, eyes dropping to your lap. “It’s not that simple, Namjoon …” You say softly.

Namjoon smiles at you gently, “Is it?” He gently nudges your knee with his so that you’d look at him. “Life is simple. It’s not easy. But it’s simple.”

You scoff even if a small smile teases your lips, “You really are a philosophy major, aren’t you?”

The two of you grin in tandem before he purses his lips, possible mulling over something before he faces you.

“The two of you are close so … why beat around the bush?”

Your eyes flutter shut, shaking your head. “Like I said, it’s really not that simple.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s not to mock or taunt you. Namjoon simply sees a naive, yet an intelligent girl who doesn’t see what’s right in front of her.

“Remember what I said? I’m a simple guy.” He reminds you, lips in a grin. “Try me.”

You snort, but you’re still nervous. You still remember that he has feelings for you, so you’re hesitant. And he immediately recognises the guilt-ridden expression that you mar.

Namjoon shoots you a stern glare, “Don’t overthink it.”

You sigh.

“Jungkook and I …” You start, fiddling with your thumbs. “We grew up together.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes and shoots you another one of his bland stares. “I know the history. I just want to know why?”

You furrow your brows, “Why?”

“Why the two of you insist on being so emotionally constipated.”

You gape at his audacity, and you’re glad the atmosphere isn’t as tense because Namjoon simply snickers at your reaction.

“I am not—!”

He waves you off, “Really?” He adds dryly.

You purse your lips and relent, even if you didn’t want to agree with him—you knew that he was … right. To a certain extent.

“We kissed.” You blurt.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, “That’s not surprising.”

You shoot him a dry look before he raises his hands in defence.

“He was my first kiss.”

At this, Namjoon’s widen.

“When you were in high school?” He pries.

You flush, embarrassed that you had to tell him otherwise.

“Two months ago.” You mutter.

Namjoon splutters, and you can’t help but glare at him when he quite literally chokes on his spit. You know you caught him off guard, but him rubbing salt in the wound that’s relatively fresh makes you scowl.

“Oh.” He clears his throat. Then he repeats, “Oh.”

You scoff, “Yeah. Oh.”

“Then … what happened?” You know he’s treading carefully with you when he asks you his question softly.

You purse your lips, and you recall every single moment you’ve shared with him. From giggles to hushed kisses, to intimate touches and sweat-stained sheets that have you gasping for air. You remember it all, and they meant … they meant the world to you, but just a speck in his memory.

“Things escalated and we … did stuff together.” You wince.

Namjoon nods in understanding, he gestures his hands around, “Like—”

“I’m a virgin.”

Namjoon blinks.

“And for the longest time, I felt embarrassed about it.”

“Oh.”

“I struggled to find my footing between being sexually liberated and being a woman because for the longest time I thought those two were mutually exclusive. For me, at least.” You say softly.

Namjoon only stares at you.

“And I always wanted validation from someone else to tell me that what I was doing was the right thing to do. Or the supposed thing to do. Never what I really wanted to do.”

“Not that I’m uncomfortable but … why are you letting me in on this?” Namjoon asks with a raised brow.

“Because I want to do something for myself for once.” You whisper.

“Okay …?”

“Why do you like me? Even if I’m … boring and not as sexy as other women?”

You sound pathetic, and the first person you find yourself comparing yourself to is Jennie—a beautiful, confident woman who looked so assured in herself.

“You’re not—”

You groan.

“Namjoon.”

“Okay.” He sighs. “If you’re asking me if I care that you’re a virgin, then no. I really don’t. Because frankly, that concept to me is false and problematic. Whether or not you’ve had sex or not isn’t any of my business.”

You duck your head.

“And I like you because you’re interesting. You’re funny and you’re assured in your own way. You don’t need to be a certain standard of pretty or sexy or whatever for me to like you. I like you because of the time we’ve spent together and that I’ve gotten to know you. The real you and not the person I admired from afar but the girl who throws in jokes out of nowhere but fits so well with the situation. The girl who’s willing to spend three extra hours of her time to help with content that wasn’t prescribed to her. I like you because I’d like to think I’ve grown to understand who you are.”

Namjoon says all of those things while staring at you straight in the face and you feel compelled to cry. Because no one has ever been so honest with you and you hate that your heart can’t reciprocate what should be an easy feeling that comes naturally.

“Fuck.”

His eyes widen.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He coos, a hand petting your hair gently as you sniffle.

“It’s not, Namjoon. Everything sucks because everything is so complicated. Why can’t I just have feelings for you instead?”

It’s selfish, and Namjoon winces. But you’re so overwhelmed that you miss it, and Namjoon is too nice to point his own feelings out.

“You don’t pick and choose your battles, _____.” He murmurs softly.

“That’s not what my mom told me.” You whimper.

He chuckles, “Yeah. Most people like to believe that because it makes them think that they have a choice over the bad things that happen in their lives. But in reality? They don’t. No one decides what happens to them. You pick and choose how you react to things. How you deal with situations and what you make out of those situations is what you can choose to do. You don’t like me, and that’s fine. You don’t have to just because I’m nice to you, _____. Being nice is the absolute bare minimum and something that everyone should feel and do.”

Your face crumbles, “Why are you so wise?”

Namjoon smiles, “I’m not. It’s called offering a different perspective. Just because I see things one way doesn’t make me any better than you who sees things in another. That’s why we meet different types of people throughout our lives. The good, the bad, the in-between. There’s always something people offer to us in the midst of chaos.”

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Namjoon.”

He pats your head, “I said don’t apologise.”

“No, but I want to. You’ve been nothing but kind to me and you picked up a shitty situation to be in when Jungkook and Jennie were at the library. Even right after I kissed you. That was … a horrible thing to do. I shouldn’t have done that just because—just because I was confused … you don’t deserve that.”

He doesn’t look angry, and that’s even worst because you want him to react, to call you a bitch and say that you were a horrible person.

“I don’t.” He shrugs while you wince. “But a lot of the times we don’t deserve a lot of things that we get. And that’s okay. You did what you thought was justified then, and there’s nothing you can do to change it. But you’re hurting too, and you’re confused—that’s what drove you to do the things that you did, and even here. That’s why you’re apologising to me, right? Because you’re not as confused anymore?”

You shake your head.

“I am, I’m still so confused.” You whisper.

“Then let me offer you another perspective.”

You look up to him with big eyes as he smiles at you gently.

“You have feelings for Jungkook.” You immediately flinch, even if he didn’t hit you. But Namjoon continues. “You’re trying to keep the picture as simple as you can even if it hurts you in the process. But

“You don’t understand, Namjoon … we … did things … that I’m not proud off …”

“You don’t have to—”

“He was my first kiss. My first … sexual experience. Even if it was just … third base,” You cringe, but Namjoon isn’t judging you at all. “A-and that’s all I was to him. An experience.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do I, Namjoon?” You say softly. “He said things to me that were so hurtful. And a stupid part of me forgives him but it still hurts every time I think about it and when I see him with Jennie.”

You whisper the words Jungkook’s said to you, and for the first time, you see Namjoon’s jaw harden. The most emotion that wasn’t rationale you’ve seen in Namjoon ever since you first arrived.

“I know it hurts.” He murmurs, holding you close. “And I really don’t want it to seem like I’m justifying his words … but would you want to hear me out?”

You purse your lips and nod nevertheless.

“Jungkook isn’t a bad person.” You blink, you never thought he was. “I know you don’t think he is but you want to. Because of the things he’s said to you because why would a good person say those kinds of things, right? But the world isn’t black and white like that. There’s a grey area where 99% of the population falls into because we operate on emotion and sometimes we say things that we may feel but not necessarily believe in.”

“Jungkook … he’s still young. And I know we’re in college and stuff but he’s still three years younger than I am and two years younger than you. He’s spoken to me about how hard it was to adjust to a high school life where you, Jimin and Tae weren’t a part of. And I don’t know about you but if the only friends I’ve ever known suddenly left because they had to … I wouldn’t know what to do either. He was at a point in his life where his environment played a huge part in the values and internalised beliefs he had.”

You look away as you reflect on his words, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“He mixed around with different groups of people, and I hate this saying but it’s still a common belief to many—especially people his age, almost out of high school. But the ‘boys will be boys’ mentality is more than just misogyny and sexism, but a culture where it feeds off complacency and peer pressure. Jungkook suddenly had to shift from three, good friends who were progressive and influential in an objectively good way to people he was obliged to like because they were his peers.”

You gape at him, purely because you knew that Namjoon was smart and wise but his introspection leaves you breathless and enlightened.

“But that doesn’t change the core of Jungkook,” Namjoon says. “He’s still Jungkook. He doesn’t know how to ask for things that he wants without feeling like he’s betraying his masculinity. And again, I’m not justifying his actions because he’s a grown man too. But he’s lost, and the only thing he knows to uphold this sense of masculinity is by being sexually liberated. Even if he conflates his own emotions with his endeavours.”

“I … I don’t even know what to say Namjoon.” You murmur, eyes looking up through your lashes.

“You don’t need to say anything. I just want you to be honest to yourself, not anyone else. But yourself.” He tells you, carding a gentle hand over your head.

You fiddle with your thumbs.

“What do you want?”

Despite you confiding two different people, you find yourself at a convenience store at 12AM, scarfing down ramen from a cup noodle because your mind was a funny place when it was muddled with a hundred different thoughts. You knew sleep wasn’t an option for you either, and you were hungry. But somehow you didn’t have anything back in your apartment that screamed ‘I’m in a crisis’ enough for you to eat.

Which is why you’re here, while the cashier keeps his eyeball to himself when he sees yet another college student who’s probably having their third mental breakdown of the day.

It is, but not for the right reasons, you think dryly.

You think you’re alone until the chime of the bell momentarily distracts you and you turn your head to acknowledge the next lone customer who may be going through their own set of issues, or had a fucked up sleeping schedule.

But you’re not expecting to make eye contact with Jennie, out of everyone or any stranger you could’ve come across.

She spots you, shoots you a weird look that has you nearly choking on a string of noodles before she moves on to what she came here to do and stops at the snack section, skimming through her options before she settles on a pack of shrimp chips. Your heart churns because they were Jungkook’s favourite. You don’t want to wonder why she picked them.

You turn to your noodles, scarf them down some more because you want to eat your thoughts away even if you’re half-considering to call Jungkook, tell him you wanted to talk. But you knew that if you spoke to him now when you were still sorting out your thoughts, you’d end up in a situation you won’t be ready to deal with.

So when you poke at your food and sigh to yourself, you almost miss the way the stool beside you scrapes against the floor as you cringe.

You turn to shoot a petty glare at the person, and you see Jennie; casually tearing open her chips and popping one into her mouth

You blink at her, and you’re left even more speechless when she juts her hand out as if to offer you a shrimp cracker. Like it was a weird symbol of a truce. Even if you weren’t really … enemies.

“Want some?”

You stare at her, and before you can think twice your lips are moving.

“The crackers or your company?” You say dryly.

Her eyes widen, and so does yours. You didn’t expect to say your exact thoughts and you don’t think she expected a quiet, timid girl like you to have said that—out loud at least. Like Yena said, everyone has a mean bone in them. Some longer and larger than others, but they were still there.

“Wow.” She huffs, but she doesn’t seem offended. “Rude, much?”

You wince and feel compelled to apologise. “Sorry.”

She waves you off and you feel odd to be sitting next to her. You always expected her to be more malicious, a lot more of a bitch. And you frown to yourself because you suppose it’s your own preconceived notions of her due to the association she has with Jungkook that had you thinking of her that way.

“What’s someone like you doing here on a weekday?” She asks off-handedly.

The term ‘someone like you’ doesn’t sit well with you, and you scowl.

“I’m eating. What does it look like?” You retort, and Jennie only raises an eyebrow at your response. Much like an angry kitten.

“Damn, I was just asking.” She mutters under her breath, “I’m hungry. Needed a snack.” She shakes the crackers in front of you, “You sure you don’t want one?”

You can’t believe her as you gape at her easy-going state when she thrusts the bag of crackers into your face yet again.

“No.” You furrow your brows, gently pushing it away as she shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s good.” She reasons, and you don’t know why she’s so adamant about having you take one.

The irrational part of you thinks she wants to poison you, to eliminate you for good so she won’t have to deal with your pathetic pining over a person that wasn’t even yours.

“I know.” You mutter. “I tried it before.”

Jennie nods her head slowly, observing the content of the packet on the back before she turns to face you, “Jungkook introduced this to me. Didn’t see the appeal but it’s addictive.”

You freeze, and your ramen soup is getting cold with the way you haven’t prodded at it for a while and in the air-conditioning in the convenience store. You feel your stomach drop, especially now that your initial suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s nice.” You grit. It really isn’t.

“Did he introduce it to you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

Why you’re still talking to her, or why she was bothering to talk to you when she’s ignored you all this while—you aren’t sure. But you still answer her despite the spite that forms in your chest.

“I introduced it to him.” You inform.

She hums, unbothered. It only irritates you more.

“Is there a reason?” You huff. “Why you’re here?”

She raises an eyebrow, “I’m hungry?”

You scoff. “No.” You slam the table ever so slightly because even if you were annoyed and confused, you weren’t that brave and you didn’t want to cause a scene at a convenience store at midnight. “Why are you here. Talking to me.”

Jennie blinks at you, then stares at you for seconds too long that you flush under her unwavering stare before she ends up in a fit of giggles. You almost think she’s here to mock you, to call you out on your pathetic and humiliating pining for someone who doesn’t care about you the same way you do to him. But she pats you on the shoulder, and you want to think it’s condescending but it doesn’t seem that way at all.

“You’re an acquaintance. You looked like you needed the company.”

You frown, “I don’t.”

She rolls her eyes, munching on another chip.

“You do. Your posture looks depressing.”

“Excuse me?” You scowl.

“It’s true.” She shrugs. “You don’t seem the type to be here wallowing unless it’s really bad. You seem like you have your shit together.”

And because your mind is already muddled and confused, and filled with irrational thoughts. Her words set you off, and you seem to be underrating or overreacting more than usual. So you snap, you shove your cup aside that the soup nearly sloshes out and send her a glare so blazing that Jennie’s caught off guard.

“And you think you know me well enough to gauge whether or not I’m ‘like this’ or the type to have a perfect mental breakdown regimen because I’m smart?” You seethe. Jennie’s eyes widen. “I have mental breakdowns like every other student and I binge eat when I’m stressed and I fuck up from time to time. I curse, yes! I see your face. Oh does she not curse? Well, look at me, bitch. I can curse like a motherfucking sailor at sea when the fishes come because I’m human. I’m just like you. So fuck off with your ‘you seem like you have your shit together’ because I don’t and I’m so fucking annoyed with your stupid face whenever I see it because it only reminds me of Jungkook!”

The silence is defining, even the cashier stops counting his bills for the night because you don’t hear the rubbing of money together. You feel his stare on your back, and more pressingly, you feel Jennie’s shocked expression linger on your face, and now that you’ve come down from your rage. Your face heats up in embarrassment.

You don’t even recall what you said, except for the fact you’ve mentioned her and Jungkook in the same sentence. And your face pales.

“I …” She chokes.

You flush, before you’re turning away, snatching your belongings to leave and forget this convenience store and never return because you don’t think you can show your face here ever again.

But before you’re able to make a run for it, a hand grabs your elbow that stops you from moving any further.

“This is already as embarrassing—” You exasperate, trying to snatch your arm away.

“For a girl so smart, you’re really dumb, aren’t you?” She deadpans.

You gape, finding enough strength to retrieve your arm as you stare at her with a dumbfounded expression.

“Excuse me—?”

“Firstly, let’s unpack what you just said because there are a lot of things that need to be dissected here.” She says blankly.

You scowl, “Look I don’t—”

“One.” She blinks as if she was doing a presentation for a course and not talking to an alleged acquaintance. “I don’t think you should act a certain way just because you’re smart. You’re entitled to your own mechanisms and I’m not judging you for them. I was simply pointing out my own observations, and I’m sorry for being insensitive.”

You’re stunned to silence, because did Jennie just … apologise to you?

“Two.” She says. You listen silently. “I think you have things you need to talk to Jungkook about, and frankly—I would’ve stayed away if I knew that the two of you were a thing.”

“We’re not a thing!” You cry, face flushed.

She shoots you an unimpressed look, “Really. So that oddly targeted blow-up was because of your mental breakdown and not because you don’t have feelings for Jungkook?”

She’s the third person to call you out the same day, or within the first one in the next. And it’s even more embarrassing because it’s the girl you’ve compared yourself to countless times because of your own insecurities.

“Yes.” You snap childishly.

Jennie sighs, gesturing for you to sit on the stool. You want to defy her out of spite, but you’ve already gotten this far into the conversation and you feel like you’d miss out on something if you left now.

“Why are you mad at me?” She asks.

“I-I’m not mad—” You weakly protest.

“You are. There’s anger in you and if it’s not directed to Jungkook then it’s directed to me. Is it because I’m a woman?”

Your eyes widen, “What—?”

“Let me reword that,” She sighs. “Is it because I’m the woman with Jungkook?”

You flinch at her declaration, especially since she indirectly confessed to being with him, while you weren’t.

“I don’t …” You trail off in a whisper.

“I don’t blame you for being angry.” She says. “But I need you to understand that I would never have done anything with him if I knew that the two of you were together.”

“We’re not.” You blink, and her unimpressed look is still there that makes you speak a little louder. “We’re not together.”

She opens her mouth to say something, then shuts it. You see her furrow her eyebrows before she settles for a response that comes a few moments after.

“Okay, then if you’re not together then why the resentment?” She puts it so simply and now that you’re listening to her, you feel a lot stupider.

“I just …” You croak, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t …”

She sighs, “Listen. We’re both women here. I know how it feels to be left in the dark when it comes to things like this but there’s no point in being angry at me when in reality it’s Jungkook you need to talk to. If you aren’t together then I don’t understand why you’re angry with me—or with him.”

You sit there in silence, nearly pouting like a scolded child.

“You’re his type.” You say softly.

Jennie pauses before she raises an eyebrow.

“And you believe that?”

You furrow your eyebrows, “I mean, of course?” You mumble, “You’re pretty, confident and sexy. Any guy would like you.”

For a moment, you think you’ve said too much. Looked to vulnerable. But Jennie doesn’t do the typical mean girl thing where she laughs in your face and threatens to expose you. Instead, her eyes soften, and her hand reaches out to hold yours.

“____.” She calls your name gently, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re pretty. You’re confident. You are sexy.”

You flush, “No. I’m not.”

She scoffs, “_____, there isn’t a set definition of what a pretty woman is like. Nor is there a one-dimensional understanding of a confident woman. There are confident women who strut in their walk and commands all the attention in the room. But there are also quiet, assured women who are intelligent and confident in their capabilities. Both of them are so different, but the one thing that they have in common?” She prompts as your eyebrows furrow. “They’re both women who are worthy of love.”

You blink up at her when her tone goes softer.

“I don’t think I’m Jungkook’s type.” She tells you.

But for some reason you need to deny it, again.

“I think you are.” You mumble, “You’re … you. And you’re probably … experienced.” You cringe at what you say, and you’re mortified if you need to explain yourself to her. But Jennie immediately picks up on it, and you don’t notice how she tenses for a split second but recovers immediately.

“We’ve done things together, yes.” You feel your heart shatter, “But you don’t have to do anything with him for him to like you.”

You sigh, “Maybe. But that's the only way he’s ever wanted me.” You say so softly that Jennie almost doesn’t catch it.

Jennie’s face softens much more, turning into a much gentler expression as she nudges your chin to look at her. And when you do, you feel wounded. You feel so much less assured than you were when you were raging at her. You hated it, how she treated you so kindly when she should’ve been cursing at you like you did to her.

“Do you want to know something?” She asks.

You nibble on your lips before you nod your head.

“If someone doesn’t want you. It’s not because you’re lacking. It’s because they’re lacking the sense to perceive you in a way that recognises your inherent worth to be loved.”

Your breath hitches and Jennie continues.

“I’ve had instances where men didn’t want to sleep with me because I was too confident, too sexually liberated for them. As if who I slept with mattered because it wasn’t them. It was never going to be them.”

“I didn’t sleep with Jungkook.” You tell her, voice soft as if you needed to clarify.

“And you don’t need to. You don’t need to sleep with anyone for them to want you. If Jungkook only wants you for your body then he doesn’t deserve you.” She points out.

You feel your heart clench, and the realisation coming from Jennie only hurts even more.

“But he’s important to me …” You whisper.

“What’s important is not always what’s good for you.” She informs you with a gentle smile. “Your sexuality is yours. And if you want to sleep or be sexual with someone, you do it because you want to. Not because someone coerced you into doing it.”

Your eyes widened, “N-No. Jungkook didn’t force me. I consented. To all of it.” You murmur, “I wanted to do it. B-But I just felt so … lacking? In comparison and … since then all he’s came to me for was just … that.”

Jennie nibbles on her bottom lip, “Jungkook’s not a bad person.” She says softly. And she’s the second person that tells you that. So you know it’s a true reflection of his character.

“I know.”

She smiles, “We both do.” She nods, “But he’s misguided. He’s never had the ability to be with someone he really cares for and I think when that happened—he dealt with it the only way he knows how to.”

You furrow your brows, “But he’s with you.”

She shakes her head with a small chuckle, “No. Not emotionally, at least.” She informs. “And he doesn’t care about me. I know. He’s always kept me at arms-length away, and I’m fine with that because I don’t like him like that either.”

You blink, and your ears turn red. “H-How do you—?”

“How do I separate lust from affection?” She laughs. “It’s because I can. Not everyone can do that, and Jungkook is one of them.”

“But you just said that he didn’t care about you.”

“I’m not talking about me,” She smiles sadly.

Your eyebrows scrunch in confusion until you realise what she was implying. And you don’t want to assume anything, never. Because hope was the one feeling that was worse than fear and you didn’t want to subject yourself to that just yet.

“Oh.” You mumble.

She nods, squeezing your hand.

“I think he misses you.”

You purse your lips.

You missed him, too.

[notyetbulletproof]

You know what would have been cool?

If Anthony told Kate that he would do anything she asked of him, yes, but truly did she want her sister to be shackled to a man who did not love her? (Reiterating what he had asked her earlier) Who saw this marriage as a role to be fulfilled. Duty to wed, done. Who would care for her and her family but never love her. Was Edwina’s momentary happiness worth a lifetime of misery for them all? Anthony may not have been ready to admit how in love with Kate he was but even he knew that proceeding with a wedding was not the best decision for any of them. All duty, no heart.

Perhaps that whole “our places” conversation could have happened before the wedding. I mean this King of Clowns literally did not realise how his actions could have led Edwina on. He was fully convinced she knew he was marrying for duty and accepted his suit. True love matches were rare, people got married for economic reasons and protection. It stood to reason he honestly thought that was her main interest especially with (yes I will be your viscountess, I will marry you) and the whole conversation with Kate about people wanting a match like he was proposing.

Anyway in this turn of events, Anthony would have taken responsibility for the fact that his actions could easily give the wrong idea and how his running from his feelings created a mess that none of them knew how to properly navigate but ultimately, Edwina wishes to marry for love and he could never give her that. He’s not in love with her and it’s best they release each other from his mistake before they hurt beyond repair.

Then they would have to go to the Queen who in her fight with Whistledown perhaps loses sight of what is important and doesn’t accept the want to call it all off. Tells them love and affection grows with time. That this is just cold feet. Wedding to proceed. Edwina makes peace with the fact that she is doing this for her family. Making this sacrifice for her family. To marry someone who does not love her but will provide for her and hers. Anthony makes peace with the fact that he is doing this to protect both their families. Giving up someone he deeply loves (even if he’s not ready to admit it) because of his own recklessness. Kate is still wrestling with the fact that she tried to protect Edwina from a choice like this and wasn’t able to and also wrestling with her very real feelings for Anthony. And that could have easily have led to a deeper look into the fact that so much of what Kate does is because she feels she has to earn love.

Then the wedding happens. Bangle drops. Edwina makes the connection and of course she’s livid but it isn’t so much cheap shots. It’s - he didn’t want to marry me because he’s in love with you. And you’re in love with him. Kate denying. Anthony denying. Or pointing out that his feelings matter not because Kate would choose Edwina’s happiness everytime. Choosing her family and that is a choice he understands and will follow her on. And Edwina being over here like, god for 2 people that feel like they know everything, you’re so fucking stupid. The fight could have been more about their dynamic. About what it became. The sisters allowed to be honest with each other for the first time in years. Fully transparent. Kate could have still said that Edwina deserved all this and Edwina asking her why she didn’t. Why does Kate think she is less deserving? Why?? Why put that on Edwina? What makes Kate less??? It still could have ended unresolved in that episode. But less cheap shotty and lopsided in apologies and amends.

See, I still stand by what I feel about the treatment of Kate and Anthony by their family. Sure, it’s all fun and cool to say “they didn’t have to! No one asked them to be a parent!”. Yeah uh huh okay. Then who? Then who? I’m not saying that both Anthony and Kate didn’t make mistakes. I’m not saying that in them trying to control everything, they didn’t mess so much up. Yep. Mmhmm. They did. However, I’m not going to pretend that their families did not benefit from them putting themselves last. Did not benefit from them pushing down every emotion known to man to be stoic and laser focused on improving the lives of their mothers and siblings. Giving in to vices here and there, craving control like it was the only thing they had going for them. Look, ultimate selflessness has a price and they both paid it because they fucking didn’t know how to balance what they wanted with what they felt they must do. Especially Kate who was so used to doing everything for Edwina’s benefit and propping her up, she didn’t stop to wonder if Edwina was just going along with it because it was all she knew for so long or if she actually wanted the things she talked about. It’s like we lose ourselves and the people we love when we stop seeing them as individuals and instead see them as a collective idea to protect.

Every watch “Rise of the guardians”? When the Santa character says something along the lines of “we are very busy bringing joy to children! We don’t have time… for children”. —- yeah! That vibe. Being so focused on protecting your families, you lose sight of how they’ve changed, of what they want, of who they are. Especially when they are just beginning to work that out for themselves.

And the “True love intangible can’t be dictated” type conversation Edwina and the Queen had could have still happened. The Queen admitting her own defeat. That she stopped listening in her quest to unmask a gossip monger. Trivial pursuits during a time of great grief for her. It was a fun distraction but she let that dictate too much and the decision now lies with Edwina.

I don’t know. There was such potential to make it less of a soap opera cheap shot drama. So much deep stuff to unpack if they handled that better. Oh well.

[itlivesproject]

I’m sorry but.. I’m disappointed. There are tons of variables for “hoeing around” but none for actual poly? I was so excited for this project ever since it was announced but now feel like I won’t be able to even properly enjoy it. And honestly … it feels like it perpetuates the idea that all poly people are whores or cheaters… even if that wasn’t the intent. It just really hurts :/

hi there,

as someone who is poly themselves, i also wanted to see a poly route in ilw, but after recently joining the team as a programmer (and pseudo writer), and looking at how everything has been set up as well as reading through the full story and coding said jealousy variants, it would infact not do poly rep justice.

from reading the faq, you may say “oh it can still work out as poly, you just have to try hard enough” as that’s what i said too. but with the context of the full story, knowing the love interests, and the history they have with eachother (and rowan(mc)) as well as taking into account their own sexualities, it would be almost insulting to push them into a polyamorous relationship

im not going to reiterate what was already previously answered. but, we are not pb, we see the love interests as their own individuals with their own minds, ideas and values. not just people who are there to make rowan (mc) happy. so yes, as default if you’re flirting w multiple people in a friend group, said people you’re flirting with are bound to feel some type of way. regardless of whether mc themselves is poly.

poly rep should be real rep, where it’s intentional and well written. where even with characters as complex as the ones in ilw, it wouldn’t be out of character, random or odd. i’ve thought of many ways to some how incorporate a poly route in this work but trust me when i say it would do more harm than good.

imagine all the times pb randomly asked if we wanted to hook up with Li 2/3/4 after we fully committed to Li 1(d&d/ trr)? or like the time in the elementalists where they ask you abt your sexuality and then go and say “well here you can also hook up w ppl you said you weren’t attracted to!” a few chapters later, like yeah it can be fun for shits and giggles but at the standpoint of seriousness it’s a slap in the face and just weird (at least to me).

and i know this is fiction, but in real life do you honestly expect everyone you’re attracted to be poly? and if they aren’t poly, to be okay with sharing you? without any jealousy or conflict? to share you with people they have beef with? people they don’t know or trust?

im sorry that you feel hurt, pb has shit poly rep to begin with and this work doesn’t have any, i can def understand your frustration and pain.

but, i do hope that this cleared a few things up! much love, sugar

for further reading:

regarding the technical complexities of including these routes check here

regarding polyamory specific to our lis check here

[dekalko-mania]

Adding onto this post right here, I have some additions, mainly in terms of how this mindset affected how Danny first interacted with Jazz. To reiterate that whole post, I theorize that Danny’s parents raised him to equate good grades to intelligence, and due to his recent plummet since the accident, he thinks he’s not smart. 

How That Affected His Relationship With Jazz

In the beginning of the series, we see that him and his sister have a greater rift. They obviously do care for each other, but he views her more as obnoxious or a know-it-all. On her part, she kind of sees him as a naive little brother who obviously needs her more informed guidance. 

There’s honestly some grade A character development that takes place with both of them, but let’s start with Jazz. She initially cannot handle being wrong, and although she cares for Danny, she shows this more through means that make her come off as arrogant. Which like honestly, can’t even blame her for. It wouldn’t surprise me if she got hit with a case of gifted child syndrome later. 

When Danny really starts to hit a tough spot is when she finally realizes this is something completely out of her control. She doesn’t know what’s wrong, just that it’s bad. Once she does find out what it is, she still has no clue what to do. This is new territory for her, but the previous episodes already taught her to deal with not knowing everything, so she’s at least better equipped now. 

The entire reason I think she even struggled with that in the first place is because, well, coming from the same household as her brother, she was affected by this mentality too. It’s expected of her to always be intellectually ahead.

Then on Danny’s behalf, I think he may have developed some resentment towards his sister because she’s more academically inclined, and he always takes the brunt of the sibling comparisons. He’s pretty often sarcastic towards her in S01, and while it’s common for siblings to be little shits to each other, his quips are usually along the same lines of him poking fun at her for being a know-it-all. Simultaneously, he also places a lot of importance in how his sister views him. So while he may feel that slight resentment, a bigger part of him honestly does look up to and respect her. When Spectra lied to him claiming Jazz said he was a loser, it hurt him more than anything else up to that point. Because here’s the pride of their family, someone he views as the best, saying he won’t amount to anything. 

Here’s just some quotes/scenes from canon to show a bit of this earlier (and sometimes still occurring) tension:

Jazz: “C’mon, we used to talk all the time!” Danny: “Yeah, when I was eight and you weren’t a fink!” (So around here maybe was when the distance started)

Jazz: “Still mad?” Danny: “Wow, you are the smart one!”

Danny’s despondent expression when Jazz is announced as the student who got the highest score in the history of the C.A.T. 

Danny at Jazz: “Okay, I get it! You’re brilliant and I’m stupid, and I’ll never be able to get as high a score as you.” 

Jazz often talks down to him without intending to. Such as when he really was making an effort to study in the ultimate enemy, and she was kind of calling him out on every wrong answer. It’s done with good intentions but y’know.

There’s definitely a lot of growth that happens and makes this issue appear less often. Besides her finding out his secret, giving him more space, and backing him up, there’s one major difference that changes the game later on. That is, after she officially joins Team Phantom, there’s finally something he feels confident about. 

In terms of ghost hunting, this is his territory now. His existence as a half-ghost already ensures he has an advantage, and as mentioned before, he’s extremely good at handling the mental gymnastics he has to pull in this profession. He also makes an effort to talk to the ghosts, map out the GZ, and store information. So it’s something he learned with a lot of personal experience and research. While Jazz is the know-all on academics, he’s the go-to for anything ghost. 

She has the leverage at home and school, but on the battlefield, he really is a pro. He finally has something that he can feel proud of and confident about. The problem isn’t automatically solved, and we do still see the occasional inferiority complex show up, but it’s getting there. Wish we could’ve had an actual sit down where they both discussed their respective experiences.

Jazz and Danny’s relationship is honestly one of the best in the show. Like they really do prove in the end that they will protect each other, and he even starts to feel safer around his sister than his own parents. But honestly, really taking a step back and seeing the progression of it, they had lot’s of ups and downs. It’s complex in its own right. 

This is a long ass post, but I’m really having fun elaborating on this topic. Will have one more to wrap up this little trilogy lmao.

[ptergwen]

i got a funny blurb request

you know how some boys think that pads are stuck onto the vag, not the underwear? peter is one of those boys... so imagine peter being like “does it hurt to take your pad off? is that why women cry on their period?”

LMFAOOOOO he’s a dummy he definitely would

“ok, pads... lots of pads and some tampons just in case,” peter explains as he puts down two full shopping bags on the coffee table.

you’d gotten your period over at his place this morning. it was no big deal, though. you could make a quick trip to the store, clean up after. there was a change of plans when you took tylenol and passed out instead. being the thoughtful boyfriend peter is, he decided to go get everything you need while you napped. he can’t fully understand the pain you go through each month, but he can do his part to ease it.

“may helped me figure out what to buy. i didn’t wanna wake you up.” he lays in the spot you leave for him on the couch, giving your forehead a warm kiss. you hum and hug his torso. “thank you for going, petey. tell may i say thanks, too.” brushing stray hairs out of your face, he smiles. “no thanks necessary, baby. we love you.” he’s now peppering kisses to your cheeks as you smile back. “i love you more. so much more.”

“debatable. are your cramps any better?” peter wonders, bringing a hand to your stomach. his fingers rub soothing circles like they were doing earlier. “yeah, i think the tylenol worked. keep doing this, though,” you sigh and let your legs tangle with his. “anything you want, princess. whatever feels good,” he speaks softly and continues his movements. your face nuzzles into his shoulder.

“you never call me that. must really feel bad for me,” you laugh out, your ankles locked around one of his thighs. peter presses his lips together innocently. “well, yeah. don’t periods hurt, like, a lot? i only know a little about them from may.” nodding, you remove your face from his shoulder and cup his cheek. “they don’t just hurt. they ruin your life for about a week. seriously, it’s insufferable.”

“every single person with a uterus has my respect,” peter announces, putting his free hand over yours. you swipe your thumb over his skin and peck his lips. “as we should. can you hand me a box of pads?” “course, princess.” he leans forward and grabs one out of the bag, holding it out to you. “here.” “thanks. i’m gonna go put one on.” you pinch his cheek before getting up from the couch.

“wait, y/n?” peter calls after you. you stop on your way to the bathroom, turning around. “yeah?” “do those hurt, too? when you take them off?” he’s frowning as he looks at the box in your hands. “uh, no. why would they hurt?” you try not to smile. “because, um, don’t they go on your...” he trails off for a second so you can fill in the blank. “you stick them on... there.”

his face stays completely serious and concerned, so you know he’s not joking. guys can be so ridiculously clueless.

“peter, peter. no. we actually don’t,” you correct him gently, watching his mouth twitch open. “what? i don’t understand... how do they stay on, then?” he’s genuinely shocked. for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, he sure doesn’t act like it. you head back over to the couch and sit down next to him.

“well,” you set the pads on the table. “we put them in our panties. there is a sticky side, but that goes face down. it just keeps the pad in place.” you’re biting back a grin, peter looking at you in awe. “so, they don’t go on your...” “no. god, no. how would that even work?” he scratches his neck in embarrassment of his lack of menstrual cycle knowledge. “i guess it wouldn’t. you can’t pee or anything. unless-“

“the american education system has failed you so bad,” you giggle, peter rolling his eyes at himself. “i should learn some more on my own, too. gotta get educated on these things.” moving in closer, you wind your arm around his neck. “you don’t have to do it alone. i could answer your questions.”

“you’d really do that?” peter looks over at you with heart eyes. “you shouldn’t have to... it’s my job.” “but, i want to. i don’t mind, petey,” you reiterate. “makes me happy you’re interested.” he leans his head on yours, arm wrapping around your middle. “okay, let’s do it.” you smile up at him.

“let me go to the bathroom, then i’ll give you your first lesson.”

[kitsu-katsu]

About revived (by Derivakat)

(Disclaimer: Nothing against Derivakat, I think her songs are amazing in general and she's very talented, I simply have a bone to pick with these lyrics and characterization)

So um, here's my counter to some of the lyrics because fuck it, I'm tired and fueled by spite, let's go:

Let's start with the chorus:

"White streak in my hair but no stress now" - Funnily incorrect, cc!Wilbur confirmed that the white hair is from stress itself, it's not about the revival process alone. Also just by reasoning, I cannot imagine what might have been stressful about spiralling and believing that the world is out to crush you, believing that you're the scum of the Earth as well, only to die, spend 13 and half years in dark isolation and then being jolted back up to life missing huge chunks of information, really cannot fathom how that might be stressful /s

"I've seen hell, but this is a bit more my style" - True you know? It's awesome that he's said that he's over the moon about being alive again after spending 13 and a half years of pure isolation in the dark, screming until his throat was hoarse. But coming from the tone of it, I'd like to point out that Wilbur's also still passively suicidal and self harms (check out the part under "He doesn't love TNT, he self-harms with it" in this post)

"A decade of time to make everything mine" (also counts for "This is my sunrise, this is my dawn, this is what I've waited for all along. All of this time, all this is mine. MINE. MINE. MINE!")- Honestly, based on what he's been doing, no prejudices, forget everything fandom's said: he doesn't really seem to want to "make everything his", does he? This perception mostly comes from him saying "This is my sunrise, this is mine!" in the original revival stream, however, if you forget about common fandom perception, what's so evilly framed about a guy who spent 13 and a half years of isolation in the dark saying "this is my sunrise!" after watching the sun coming up again for the first time since his death, in which he was extremely emotionally unstable? Like for real?

Now onto the verses:

"Am I the bad guy? I'll be the bad guy again" and "I've come back hell-bent" - Now, he has said that: “Here’s the thing, Tommy. I, I, I, I know I was bad, and I know I can redeem myself, but like, you know, there’s a little bit of fun in being bad, you know, we’ve spoken about this.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 11:31, 5th May), BUT, since then he's also expressed genuine remorse for his worse actions during Pogtopia (check out the parts under "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" and "Wilbur cares. A LOT" in this post), a wanting to redeem himself and truly become better and... uh... OH! He's also admitted that he's afraid he scares people and cried when Ranboo said that he was "an alright person". For real, just watch the Healthy Competition stream and read this reddit post by cc!Wilbur

The reddit post in question, just in case:

"You think I cared? It was always a means to an end" - So false. Just... so false. Ok, so quick one, let's review the actual lines said originally about him "not caring for L'manburg" in full:

“Uh, one thing, I didn’t actually really care about L'Manberg, I just cared about, you know, sticking it to the man. Actually, I cared about L'Manberg for the sole reason that I could use it to stick it to the man.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 24:18, 5th May)

“Look, I- Okay, I said it wrong. Look, I did care about- I did care about L'Manberg, but I cared about it for- You would call it the wrong reasons, but I, I- Just don’t think about it, don’t think about it too hard. Look, L'Manberg’s gone now, we’ve got that, you know- That, that wart on my side is gone, you know. I salute it, I salute it, you know, it was a great- It was a great place.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 25:18, 5th May)

“Look, Tommy, I’m gonna reiterate for you once more because I don’t think you quite understood, and that’s okay, you know, you don’t need to understand everything. I did care about L'Manberg. I did, I did. A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet, Tommy. L'Manberg would have been as loved by me had it been called Bimbum and was built in the middle of the desert.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:05, 5th May)

“The actual location, and the actual things it was, it were, were not important to me. It’s the thing it stood for. Which was freedom, liberty, and sticking it to the man, Tommy!” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 26:26, 5th May)

“We were a family, Tommy. We were…” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 27:26, 5th May)

So as you may see, he retracts himself immediately and explains his feelings with more nuance

Then, let's look at the more recent confession to Ranboo:

“I told Tommy that I didn’t actually care about L'Manberg, and that it was just like a tool for me to use to gain like, you know, power and stuff. But it’s not, it’s not true.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:36, 3rd Aug)

“L'Manberg is- was really important to me. And it is still to this day.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

“I want it to, em, I want its history to live on not as a stain caused by me, you know. I basically just took a big shit on the history books, it feels like. I wanna, I wanna make it, I wanna make it feel like it was, you know, it was something that happened. You know, it was a great thing, you know, think of the good times. The- The years of safety. Well, not years, but you know.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 26:47, 3rd Aug)

If this got more explicit I'd be literally hitting you over the head with it. Anyway, check out the parts under "Wilbur cared. A LOT" and "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with" in this post

"So who cares? So what? I'm not calming down" and "Shut up! And listen" - “Tommy, shut up! I mean, Tommy, come over here. Tommy, come over here, come over here, man. It’s cool, it’s cool, it’s cool. Sorry, I, I-” (Alivebur)

– (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 26:08, 31st May)

That line's totality gets often cut down, erasing the immediate apology after the loss of cool. Furthermore, I'd argue that him "not calming down" in general is mainly due to his euphoria and overexcitement during certain scenes where it makes complete sense for him to be feeling like that, and in a broader sense, he has a tendency to say things in the heat of the moment and out of impulsivity that he turns to later regret from all the way back at Pogtopia. Him not calming down now is either out of impulsivity or outright euphoria to be out of limbo, not necessarily an evil thing. And when he percieves he should calm down, he tries his best to do it, or apologizes for snapping

“I’m sorry I wasn’t, you know, entirely on the same page. But, man, I promise you, I’ve calmed down, you know, I’m all, I’m all settled in. I understand, you know, what’s changed, what hasn’t, who’s new, who’s old, you know, who’s still about, you know, who… Who, uh… uh… Who trusts me and stuff.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 15:04, 3rd Aug)

“I relived that explosion in my head so many times man. And, and, and I- I get that you don’t, you don’t trust me, I do, but like, man, look at me, bro, I’m not gonna do it again. I’m not gonna- I’m not gonna hurt you again.” - (Wilbur’s A Year Later: 21:21, 3rd Aug)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times" and "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized" in this post)

"There's nothing wrong with me" - BUDDY. Wilbur drowns in self-hatred, what are you talking about? The man got caught off guard and cried when someone said "you're an alright person"... He's worried that he scares people, he knows how others see him on top of his own self-hatred

“TommyInnit, as you know, is just, he thinks I’m insane. I’m not insane, chat, I’m not insane.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 4:30, 16th Oct)

“See, I’m not so crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 16:40, 16th Oct)

“I’ve told you, I’m not crazy, Tommy. I know what I’m doing, and this is genuinely the best thing we could do right now.” - (Wilbur’s The Festival: 17:18, 16th Oct)

“I’m not crazy! How am I crazy?!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 43:18, 17th Oct)

“Everyone I seem to meet has this deep intrisnic feeling of disgust towards me. Jack Manifold seemed to be quite nice to me, but I reckon he, I could feel it, you know, in his stare. But like, you don’t have that. I can tell you’re a good guy.” - (Wilbur’s resurrected gentleman of L'manburg: 30:24, 5th May)

“Quackity, I’ve, I’ve, I’ve, I’ll be honest you with you, I’ve lost everything, man. I, um. I’ve lost decades of my life. I’ve lost my- most of the people who cared about me. Some people don’t even know I’m back yet, and I, and I think that’s probably for the best. So I feel like that does humble a man. That really humbles a man, you know?” – (Wilbur’s A Deck of Cards with a Green Smile on them: 1:00:52, 31st May)

“Listen, Phil, I met, I met Quackity. After you very kindly lent me your house. I went and met him. Yeah! I met up with him, and I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was, I’m gonna say it, it was nice. It was a nice time. I- I- It felt good, it felt, uh, you know, he didn’t, he didn’t seem afraid of me, which is cool.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 7:38, 25th July)

“Not many people do. I mean, Phil, you don’t seem afraid of me, you’re not afraid of me, are you, Phil?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:03, 25th July)

“Good, good. 'Cause I’m not afraid of you.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 8:10, 25th July)

“Why? Why? … No, no, no, no, no, not the, not the bit about the, not the bit about the right foot, the why don’t you think I’m a bad person?” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 35:13, 25th July)

“Can I be real with you, man? I think I scare people.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:30, 25th July)

“I mean, like I, I, I, I don’t think I, I- I think a lot of people share your idea, but they share your idea in trying to- trying to keep me from hurting them, you know? Like they’ve seen what I can do, and they don’t want me to do it again, so they adopt your emotion in order to do it.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 36:46, 25th July)

“Dream is- He’s had his comeuppance, and I have not! My comeuppance was apparently not good enough for this people. They’re just waiting, they’re waiting for the next thing for me to slip up on, and, Ranboo, I’m not gonna fucking slip up, Ranboo. I’m different.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:07, 25th July)

“I’m living in eternal limbo, again. I’ve been through limbo, I’m out of limbo, and socially, I’m still in this limbo.” - (Wilbur’s Healthy Competition: 38:36, 25th July)

(Check out the parts under "He feels inhuman. He knows that people see him as a freak, evil or crazy and that makes him feel dehumanized", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character" and "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character" in this post)

"Oh yes, I blew up the nation!" (said with glee) - I make a point of the tone in this specific line, because I could make a point of the tone in the whole song, but this line is a good example. He didn't blow up L'manburg just with glee like "hell yeah! I did it!". Of course he talks about it with pride sometimes, but it's usually either said in the middle of the same impulsive moments in which he'd claim he doesn't care, said with relief of him having control over at least that situation (like him sighing right after doing it just to ask Phil to finish it off by killing him), or said with the same deflection with which he'd claim that not having a grave didn't affect him and was badass actually since he only wanted it for the hateful obituaries anyway (which was a lie, and he admitted it on the third of august stream when saying "I was so pressed about not having a grave" in case you had doubts)

Finally, I want to make emphasis on the fact that: The explosion on the 16th had two main drives behind it and they often get glossed over. The first objectivee was blowing it up and causing just enough destruction to get L'manburg back (You know, when Wilbur still had some kind of hope). After his spiral went further and his paranoia and self-loathing worsened, his two drives become apparent: First was blowing it up to rid the world of the twisted thing L'manburg became, ridding the world of what the twisted version of his ideals became with Schlatt in control of them. Secondly, he wanted to end L'manburg as a part of himself and rid the world of himself completely (by this I'm referencing his suicide), he decided he wanted to die and expected that as a result since a lot of time before the 16th. The explosion was effectively a bigger projection of his suicide, rid the world of both himself and his creation, mixed with his constant desire to protect, it also becomes "rid the world of the corrupted version of L'manburg that became Manburg", because for all intents and purposes, since the important thing about L'manburg was its founding ideals, L'manburg had been dead for a long time at that point.

“Yesterday I had the perfect opportunity to blow everything up and finally end it, you know. I had the perfect opportunity to finally blow up everything and end it and just completely save everyone, right, from the tyranny of Schlatt and the tyranny of the existence of Manberg and L’Manberg, right.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 25:17, 17th Oct)

“Explain it to me! Give me a reason! Give me a reason!” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:50, 17th Oct)

“Who else is it gonna hurt?! It’s gonna hurt Schlatt, Manberg, and-” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 26:55, 17th Oct)

“Why did I bring- I should have just done it. I’m such a fucking showman. I should have just done it.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:18, 17th Oct)

“No you two can escape, I’ll be the… I’ll- I’ll- I’ll be… I’ll be trapped in here…” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 27:27, 17th Oct)

“I just- I just want to f… I just wanna end it, I wanna end it. I wanna press that button, man.” - (Wilbur’s Speedy Stream Festival What festival: 28:08, 17th Oct)

(Check out the parts under "Wilbur cares. A LOT", "Paranoia and distrustfulness are integral parts of his character", "Self-loathing and self-sabotage are also integral parts of his character", "He hesitated regarding the button tons of times", "He really cared and cares about L'Manburg, and didn't want its ideals twisted to hur others with", and "He really regrets what happened in Pogtopia" in this post)

[madswonders]

A Lesson In Romance #10: Thoughts

Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Implied anxiety, Mentions of canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.5k

Plot: Reader keeps getting caught in rom-com situations with Spencer Reid. This time, they're paired together on a case.

A/N: I know that the BAU's conference room has big-ass glass windows but just imagine that the blinds are closed for the entirety of this chapter aha. Also this chapter is a doozy... like 1k words longer than usual, so enjoy!

Masterlist | All chapters here!

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As Peter Gizzi once described the phenomena of love, "About you there is nothing I wouldn’t want to know / With you nothing is simple yet nothing is simpler."

In high school, your reputation always preceded you. The cynic that never had a boyfriend, much less a drunken one-night stand; a prude who waited over ten dates to have her first kiss; or the "ice queen" who kept her emotions locked up and threw away the key.

If they saw you now, you wondered if they would laugh at how you've changed; because these days, you looked like you were keeping the best secret in the world, one that threatened to burst from your lips every time you smiled.

What you didn’t know, is that you didn't need to be a profiler to see it. From the bubbling laughter and whispered conversations, to the not-so-secret longing glances. You and Spencer disappeared into your own world when you were together, and everybody knew it.

And for the first few weeks, that was enough. You found it easier than usual to ignore the thoughts that lurked in the back of your mind. That is, until you couldn't.

"... I want you and Spencer to work on the geographic profile." Hotch had announced, and you remembered the feeling of your blood running cold.

There were two reasons for this. First was the fact that this case linked twenty homicides across three years to a single unsub. If there was any case that required the two nerdiest members of the BAU to team up, this was it.

Unfortunately, that fact was closely followed by an overwhelming fear — and you wanted to preface this by saying that you were usually a woman of logic and science — but, somehow, you couldn't shake the thought that something bad was going to happen to you and Spencer, and you weren't ready for it.

Leaning against the cool conference room wall, you tapped your toes in an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. You were trying to recite what you learned from your PhD; that your mind was jumping to conclusions and that it was normal to be nervous. It was normal to feel this way. You were normal.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, jolting you out of your mantra.

You realised your boyfriend had been talking to you for awhile now, but clearly, you weren't listening. You shook your head apologetically.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. Could you say that again?"

"I was just saying, you can start by pinning the names and locations of the victims, and I'll put up the crime scene photos... but are you sure you're okay?" He asked again, this time shooting you those puppy dog eyes that made you weak.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine. Let's get to work." You said firmly, grabbing the box of push pins. You felt his gaze linger on you for a second, before he began picking up his own stack of pictures.

The first hour sped by quickly as you and Spencer listed out all of the unsub’s possible motives and next victims. At the half hour mark, Hotch dropped in to check on your progress, bringing takeaway coffee and leaving with a rare smile.

At the second hour, the rest of the team returned with some new leads, and unfortunately, new bodies, but nothing that helped solidify the profile any further than what you already had.

At the fifth hour, there was no denying it. The team had hit a wall. While the rest of them were back in the field investigating more leads, you sipped on your second cup of coffee while staring at the evidence board. Spencer paced the room behind you.

"The messy dump sites. The carvings onto the victims' chests. One points to the unsub being disorganised and inexperienced, but the other is a clear, almost narcissistic ritual." The doctor thought aloud.

"Usually that means the unsub is trying to make a statement, but he killed his first ten victims before the police found out, then killed another seven and three right under their noses before going dormant. If he wanted to make a statement, why wouldn't he tip off the police or media sooner?" He grumbled.

"Are we sure it's not a taunt to the local police’s competency? Many of his first victims were found in secluded areas with limited police support." You pointed out, tapping the edge of your cup in thought.

"No, the victimology and locations are too wide spread. A taunt would present a clearer message." He said.

You turned around suddenly, causing him to halt in his steps. "Here's something completely off the wall — but what if the unsub was trying to achieve a specific pattern with his kills?" You said, gesturing with your cup.

Tap, tap-tap, tap, you created the rhythm with your finger.

"That would explain why he isn't acting like a narcissist. Maybe he's suffering a mental condition that compels him to complete a certain pattern, and subsequently, ritual with his kills. Could be rhythmical, musical, numerical..." You explained.

"Numerical. That's it!" Spencer squeaked, rushing to the board with a marker. "I thought these numbers seemed familiar earlier, that's because they make up prime numbers!"

He backed away from the board to reveal what he wrote. The numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, and 11. A lightbulb turned on in your head.

"2, 3 and 5 make up the first ten kills. 7 is the next, which he managed to complete perfectly, but something happened to the unsub at 11." Spencer voiced your thoughts.

"He might have been incarcerated, or injured. But we can't rule out the possibility that he might have moved out of town and resumed the pattern elsewhere. So either we can expect 8 more victims here, or the unsub has already moved onto the next number: 13." You quickly finished the train of thought.

"Love, you're a genius!" Spencer rushed over to pick you up by the waist, twirling you as you laughed in relief. But the relief turned to surprise when he kissed you deeply.

God, he was good at this. Even when your feet touched the ground, it felt like you were seeing stars. Though it was only when your lips parted that he had the decency to blush.

"Love?" You breathed.

Spencer's cheeks turned crimson in embarrassment, but he didn't back away. Instead, he leaned forward, bumping your foreheads together gently.

"I didn't know you had that in you, doctor." You teased.

"Well, my mother did school me in classic romance literature from a young age. Not to mention, I happen to be a genius at most things..." You could hear the smile in his voice, and you giggled.

The doctor pulled away then, an adoring smile still plastered across his face. "Are you fee—" He began, but his voice died in his throat as his gaze fixated on something behind you.

"Ooooh, am I interrupting something?" You turned around to see none other than Penelope smiling coyly from the doorway, and the two of you jumped apart.

"N-no, nothing!" Spencer blurted out.

"All fine and dandy here." You added on, blushing furiously.

The tech analyst smiled deviously. "Well, I thought I'd come and check on my two favourite lovebirds. Anything else from the case for me to chew on? Except whatever that was earlier." She teased.

"Actually, there is." You cleared your throat awkwardly, while the good doctor looked like he wanted to melt into the carpet.

"We need you to search up murders in neighbouring cities that match the mutilation by our unsub, then cross-reference the time frame with any new residents. We suspect he might be trying to complete a pattern, and that he may have done it somewhere other than here." You said.

"On it, future-Mrs-Genius. I will get back to you so fast that you won't even have time to get down and dirty." She half-yelled that last bit, heels clicking as she walked back to her office. Before you could even formulate a response, she was gone.

You felt your boyfriend wrap his arms around you from the back. "Now, where were we?" He whispered.

You giggled, leaning back into the doctor's chest while he rocked your bodies side to side. "Are you feeling better now?" He asked.

"Next time someone says it's not as intense in here as it is out there, I'm going to give them a stern talking to." You joked.

"You know what I mean, love." Spencer reiterated gently, the pet name falling from his lips like it was the most natural thing in the world. "If you tell me about it, I can help you. You know I'm always here for you."

You sighed softly, blinking back tears that threatened to spill.

"It's something stupid. I-I'm fine."

He turned you around, brows furrowing in concern when a tear rolled down your cheek. "What's wrong?" He asked, wiping it away tenderly.

"I— I was worried about us working together." You admitted. "And it's not because I don't like working with you, but I just— I just couldn't—"

"Take a deep breath, love. Slowly." He held your shoulders as you breathed in and out, once, twice.

"I've been afraid this whole day — no, for awhile now — that something was going to happen to our relationship." You confessed shakily. "And it's not about our jobs — although I worry about that too — but I'm scared that one day you'll wake up and realise that I'm not worth the trouble."

You looked up at the ceiling, trying to stop the next wave of tears.

"A-and it's only gotten worse because I've never been so h-happy with another person before. Only you've made me feel this way, and I'm t-terrified that I'll lose what we have."

There was a brief silence as Spencer pulled you close to his chest, one hand stroking your hair carefully. You could hear his heart beating fast.

"Do you remember when the team tricked us into sharing a bed?" He whispered, a hint of a smile trickling into his voice. "I think about it every single time we're about to go into the field. Because you said you'd never leave me, and now, whenever we're out there, I know I'm not alone."

He breathed in deeply, your head gently rising and falling together with his chest.

"You've given me someone to come home to, love. What we have, you'll never lose it, okay?" He whispered.

"Baby, I—" Your voice halted. Crap.

"Wait. Baby?" Spencer repeated back to you, a teasing lilt in his voice. Your face flushed, and you unwinded your arms from your boyfriend to cover your face.

"Oh god, can we pretend that didn't just happen?"

"I have an eidetic memory." He pointed out. You let out a watery laugh, knowing when you had lost.

"Alright, alright. But I do have another ide—"

Then, the conference room phone rang. It was Emily. "Hey guys, Garcia managed to narrow down the unsub and we're 10 out, but we'll need some back-up."

"Be there in 15." You replied, while Spencer shot you an amused look, Luckily, he waited for the call to end before saying the next words.

"Let's go, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes and laughed, already strapping on your kevlar. "That's it. You're not driving."

"Aww!"

---------

After the major breakthrough in the case — all thanks to Nerd 1 and Nerd 2, as Derek fondly called the two of you — the case managed to wrap up neatly and the BAU found themselves in a rare position. Ready to end the work day, on time.

Not that anybody was packing up to leave just yet, although you wished they would, because Penelope had decided to start enthusiastically retelling how she found the BAU's resident lovebirds in the conference room, unable to keep their hands off each other.

"Last I heard, pet names aren't a crime — and how long were you standing there anyway?" You accused, blushing.

"Firstly, they are. Criminally cute, that is!" Penelope squealed, while the rest were in fits of laughter. "And secondly, you should never underestimate my awesome ninja abilities, because I heard everything that I needed to hear."

"Do I even want to know?" Spencers winced.

"I don't think you do, pretty boy." Derek laughed, clapping the genius on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait. Can we go back to how Spencer's pet name of choice is love?" Emily gasped in laughter.

"You've got to admit it's kind of cute, Emily." JJ smiled.

"Sure. If you're courting Mr. Darcy and attending cotillions."

"C'mon, Prentiss. All that means is that our boy's got style." Derek added to laughter, while Spencer whined in protest.

The door to Hotch's office opened suddenly, both him and Rossi stepping out with expressions of urgency on their faces.

“Sorry to break up the fun, kiddos. But there's been an update to the case.” Rossi announced, following right behind Hotch to the conference room.

The laughs were wiped off everybody's faces as you traded concerned looks. As you filed into the room, Hotch had already begun speaking.

“Another body was found half an hour ago. Same MO, same random victimology, and same kind of dumpsite. And the unsub just told us where to find his copycat.”

“Wait, we never profiled a second unsub.” Derek interjected.

"It doesn't makes sense — the first unsub is a control freak. He didn't like the idea of anybody messing with his sequence. Wouldn't he have done something if he knew somebody else was copying his pattern?" You asked.

"We profiled that he wouldn't be able to deviate from his pattern. What if he had to continue, even when somebody else was committing some of the crimes for him?" Spencer countered.

“Hold on, you said the unsub gave us a location?” Emily asked.

"And a time." Rossi voiced up. “8pm tonight at The Basil. The first unsub claims that's where the copycat finds his next targets."

"How do we know if we can trust him?" Derek asked.

"We don't. But he didn't display any telltale signs of doubt when he told us, and this is the only lead we have." Hotch's frown deepened. You had a feeling he didn't like the idea of this either, but the team didn't have a choice.

"Okay, if we're doing this, he can't know we're onto him," Emily thought aloud, "and we'll need precautions in case it's a trap. That means..."

"Undercover agents... and the bait." Hotch said with finality.

“And who did you have in mind for that?” You piped up, and everyone turned their eyes to you.

“You and Reid.” He stated the obvious.

“B-b-but, I’ve never gone—"

“You’ve more than proven your abilities in the field since you joined us, and having natural chemistry will make it less suspicious to the unsub.”

You opened your mouth, but no words fell from it. Hotch was right. Of course he was right.

As if hearing your thoughts, Spencer took your hand in his and squeezed, and you felt a little calmer already. “Ok, I’ll do it.” You said determinedly, while the doctor echoed your sentiment.

Hotch nodded, beginning to assign roles to the rest of the team while you squeezed your boyfriend's hand tighter, a new mantra forming in your head.

Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be okay.

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